The Shape and Form of the Thing
an Odin Sphere story of indefinite definitions
by volta_arovet
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Word count: 500
Odin Sphere- Ingway/Mercedes- magic- fairy magic and the magic of men

"I'm hungry," Mercedes said, throwing herself on the ground with a pout. Ingway restrained himself from covering his face with his palm--he had far too much flipper for the gesture to work properly--and contented himself with a sigh.

"I don't usually give advice for this sort of thing," Ingway said, "but I'll try to do my best: eat something."

Mercedes rolled her eyes and dug into her pouchette. "Brilliant. Really. What would I do without you?"

"Waste away into nothing, pining quite beautifully, I suppose," Ingway said. Mercedes ignored him.

"I thought I had some cheese in here," Mercedes said, more to herself than anyone else.

"What would you say," Ingway said, hopping closer, "to a hot cross bun, fresh from the oven, light and steaming hot with sweet icing still melted on its top?"

Faerie Queens did not drool at the prospect of food, no matter how deliciously described. "Please and thank you?" she said hopefully. "Wait. Where are you keeping it?"

"Just watch. nothing up my sleeves, and--" He reached behind her ear and produced a golden Valentinian coin. "Presto!"

Mercedes frowned. "That's a trick." She checked her suddenly lighter pocket. "And that's my coin!"

"Of course it's a trick," Ingway scoffed, ignoring the latter accusation. "All human magic, save the unfortunate bargains with higher powers, are a trick. That's why I am merely inconveniently frog-shaped, as opposed to living as a being who truly desires only a fly and a soft lilypad to lie on."

"That's great, but you promised me a bun," Mercedes said, hands on her hips.

"So I did. Would you like to see me turn this coin into a bun?" He raised the coin with a flourish.

Mercedes grinned. "Sounds good."

"Very well. I believe we passed a vendor not far back." Ingway began to hop away.

Mercedes stood up and stomped her foot. "You are the worst magician ever."

"Mercedes," Ingway said. "If you were to stamp you foot and purse your lips and mark the proper sigils, then this coin would surely yield to your desires and becomes a true hot cross bun, and yet." Ingway paused. "I am but a man."

Mercedes cleared her throat, and Ingway looked at his flippers.

"Of sorts," he amended. "So I could take this coin and match its appearance to a bun--quite easily, in fact. I could make its weight as light as your footsteps, its temperature as hot as your temperament. I could even match its sweetness to your smile."

The line was far too cheesy for Mercedes to blush.

"But beyond all the layers of illusion, beyond the false sight and scent and taste, do you know what it would truly remain, at its heart?"

Ingway held the coin between them, his large eyes affectionate and mocking beyond its golden rim.

"Yeah," Mercedes said, snatching the coin away and marching towards the vendor. "An annoying, slimy frog."