Dungeon Item Shop - Chapter 160: Radiance (Patreon)

Fresh looks over the chunk of glass that Jubilee had made out of the moondirt. It is different than the normal, crystal clear glass that Jubilee’s magic usually makes. Rather, the 'moonglass' is milky and holds less of a prismatic shine. The light that it catches from around the room seems to lean more towards the cooler tones, rather than the usual brighter pinks and yellows.

Jubilee watches her carefully from the side. “So? What kind of fuckery is this going to end up becoming?”

“It’s not going to be anything like that,” says Fresh, flicking the glass once with the tip of her finger. It lets out a sharp, crystal clear ring that resonates around the basement. She stops and thinks for a second. “Well… maybe a little.”

Jubilee crosses their arms. “That’s an odd amount of foresight, coming from you,” they state. “Are you getting sick or something? Should I get Basil?”

Fresh holds her hands above the chunk of glass.

(Fresh) uses: [Craftsman {Saw}]

A clean slice of the hunk of glass separates itself from the rest. Carefully, she lifts it off and sets it onto the table. “I’m fine, Jubilee,” says Fresh, smiling back at her friend. “Thanks for always worrying about me.”

“I’m worrying about me,” replies Jubilee, rolling their eyes.

(Fresh) uses: [Craftsman {Saw}]

She cuts the top half of the removed piece off, creating a straight sheet of glass. “No you’re not, Ju~ bi~ lee~” says Fresh in a sing-song tone, looking over her work.

(Fresh) uses: [Craftsman: Polish {Lustrous}]

[Lustrous Moonglass]{Holy}

A thin sheet of extremely reflective, enchanted glass filled with a holy energy.

“Are you trying to pick a fight, goo-brain? You know that there aren’t any witnesses down here, right?” asks Jubilee, sounding somewhat agitated. Fresh closes her eyes, pulling her head back as she purses her lips and carefully blows the glass dust off of the pane of glass before her.

Fresh looks over to Jubilee and shakes her head before turning back to her work. “Exactly. Jubilee?”

“What?”

Fresh grabs a bottle of moonwater and a rag, dampening it before slowly starting to wipe the rest of the dust away. “Would you still be my friend if I was an evil witch?”

Jubilee shrugs. “What? Fuck, why do always talk like a five year old at the fairgrounds, asking if we can be friends?”

“’Cause I wanna know,” replies Fresh. The rag in her hand squeaks as she polishes the sheet of milky glass. She lifts her head, looking over towards Jubilee.

“You already know, shit-head,” replies Jubilee, sounding annoyed, crossing their arms and looking away.

Fresh sets the rag down, lifting the sheet of opaque, shiny, polished glass up before herself. She looks into her reflection. It winks back at her, though that might have just been her winking to herself.

“Mm,” replies Fresh happily, smiling back at Jubilee’s troubled eyes, which stare towards the sides of the basement, as if meticulously examining the wall next to them. “Sorry.” Setting the mirror glass down to the side, she grabs some iron ingots and sets to work, making an extremely thin, ornate frame. In truth, she does feel a little bad about embarrassing Jubilee like this with her honest words. But she needs to speak them shamelessly.

Not only to clear the air with her friend, but also because she needs that warmth in her chest for this crafting process, she needs to access that strong feeling which is nuzzled deep inside of her body, far beneath her breast, there where her heart strikes with strong candor.  

(Fresh) uses: [Craftsman: Metalworking {Frame}]

[Metal Frame]{Oval}

A round, metal frame made out of flattened iron.

“You’re also my friend, no matter what, Jubilee,” says Fresh, rather suddenly.

“I’m going to go now,” says Jubilee, turning to leave. “Before you make this any more awkward.”

“I’m going to start crying if you leave, before you let me finish,” pouts Fresh, puffing out her cheek.

“I can live with that,” replies Jubilee, very, very dryly.

Realizing that she has to get to the point, Fresh sighs and takes a deep breath to steady her shaking legs and her wildly beating heart that is fearful of what is to come. “I think I figured it out, Jubilee. Sorry,” she adds on at the end, realizing that this news will likely cause her friend some distress.

Jubilee turns back around towards her, not saying anything, but looking her way uncertainly, as if fearful that she means what they think she means.

Fresh continues to smile and then shakes her head. “I might be wrong, but I think I get it all now. The mask. The mirror. Your -“ Fresh corrects herself. “- our old house.” Fresh sets the mirror onto the frame, sprinkling some glittering dragon scale dust onto it. It doesn’t do anything, but she likes the way that it sparkles. It’s a finishing touch, a delicate gesture of love for her creation, for the process of the creation itself.

(Fresh) uses: [Craftsman: Attach]

“I just want you to know that I don’t care,” explains Fresh to her silent, very stiff friend. “You can hide yourself as much as you need to feel comfortable.” She lifts the new mirror up, examining it with pride. “You can keep as many secrets as you need to. I have some too,” she admits, scratching her cheek, as she turns back to Jubilee. “You can be as mean as you need to be, to keep me and the others away. But if you need a room for yourself, I’ll make one for you. If you need a new mask, I’ll make one for you. If you don’t want to sleep alone at night, I’ll come over -“ She lifts a finger. “Not-a-creep!”

Fresh turns her own embarrassed face shamelessly back to the mirror, nodding to it one final time with a particularly determined nod, as she and the girl she sees in her reflection come to a silent understanding.

[Witch-Crafting: 8]

[Enchanted Magical Mirror]{Holy}(Excellent)

The reflective, nearly perfect surface of this magical mirror shimmers with a bright intensity, as it catches only the rays of every good thing in the world, showing the viewer only the positive qualities that others see in them and nothing else.

The image of her reflection changes drastically as the glow around her hands wears off. Fresh smiles at the wide-eyed child that she sees in the mirror and it smiles back, jumping around in excited, youthful vigor, as warm light grows all around it. She turns the mirror around to Jubilee, letting them see whatever it is that they’re meant to see. “You don’t need to ever take off your mask, until you’re ready, Jubilee,” she smiles, holding it out to them as she walks over. “Because I already know what you look like!”

Fresh feels like she has come to know Jubilee down to the minute details by now. She knows when they get up, what they like to eat, what they like to do. She knows what colors Jubilee tends to like the most and which ones they seem to avoid, even just unconsciously. She knows that Jubilee knows about Shamrock’s sneaking of the candy and she knows that Jubilee had purposefully decided to let him, much like her sneaking out of the house to go to the dungeon back in the northern city.

She knows that Jubilee isn’t open about their emotions, at least not verbally. But she knows that Jubilee is just as openly emotional as she is, just in a different way. Jubilee shows their feelings solely by their actions, rather than their words, rather than a mixture of both. By the color of the clothes they wear, by the small gestures of wearing gifted flowers and by the things they show her how to make and by the things that they make for her. By their scolding and hard-worded lectures, meant to keep her in line, to keep her safe. To keep her ready for this world that she clearly wasn’t prepared for from the start. By their initial jealousy about the others being around all day, instead of just the two of them. 

But Fresh has never seen Jubilee cry before and now, becoming distraught herself at seeing it, she quickly sets the mirror down and runs over to them, apologizing profusely as she falls down and grabs them in a hug that they don’t fight.

But she makes sure not to squeeze too tightly.

Jubilee, much like the glass, no matter how hard and dangerous it might appear, is a delicate and fragile creature. The frame of their body and spirit having already long since been shattered, leaving only the jagged edges of a broken thing behind for the next person to find.

The two of them stay downstairs for a while and cry together. It’s just what best friends do.

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;_;