Epsilon Twilight
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69. Nice and Warm
🕑 Added 2025-10-18 11:59:37 +0000 UTCChristie felt as if she had been struck by some earthshattering revelation. Is this the truth that the scholarities proselytize about? She clutched her chest as she tried to stop her ragged breath, but it was hard. Her heart beat fast, and hot air came out of her lips. Nightrobe without undergarments, what a lethal combination.
She took a deep breath.
Her seductress had come to her room to inform her about her own mistake, but what a fatal mistake it had been. Christie didn’t want to let Agatha suffer in their relationship, but it was now the redhead who was suffering. It wasn’t a physical or mental ailment that was afflicting her. In any case, the correct epithet would be physiological.
Oh, crown in the heavens, the nouveau riche cursed as she bit her index finger. Control yourself, Christie. Agatha is in the other room. It was really hard to control herself. It didn’t help in the slightest that her lover really gleamed with that soaked hair, wet skin, and nightrobe that adhered to her body.
Christie felt her sanity flow out from her body, and she had to manually reel it in like the heaviest of anchors; otherwise, she wasn’t sure what she could do.
She took another deep breath.
“S-supper clothes and appropriate footwear,” the redhead told herself as she still clutched her bosom. “And undergarments. I cannot forget about those,” she awkwardly giggled.
Whilst it was common for nobles to burn clothes once they became too small or outright burn them after a certain number of uses, her dearest father liked to keep every piece of clothing. Mementos, he said. Of course, this tradition only really extended to his dearest daughter. Once a piece of clothing, whether it be a dress or a pair of shoes started to show the strains of over-usage, he would have Christie shelve it away. That meant a loss of storage space, but considering seventy percent of the rooms in the manor were empty – and that was a really low estimate – it didn’t matter much.
But it also had a clear advantage. Christie’s growth spurt was a rather recent event – even if it hadn’t ended just yet – so most of the dresses from the previous year would be more than valid for Agatha.
“Hmm, too many green and red dresses. White can work – it always works – but it is far too… cliché. There is this pale yellow summer dress but…” She took a look at it. “Too infantile. Agatha might bludgeon me to death if I show it to her, and I cannot blame her.”
Because Christie was already about her paramour’s height when she was a child, most of the actual dresses that would be a perfect fit were a bit infantile in nature. But she had many dresses of that period. Between her ten and twelve years, her dearest father had a bit of a shopping spree – a midlife crisis of some kind, now she realized with the potent gift of foresight – buying her many dresses, whether they were tailor-made or not, and whether they fit with her or not.
“Men,” Christie sighed. “Both Adrien and he always fail to match colors. I am no painter, but color theory is not that hard.”
But there was a small victory in there. Thanks to that shopping spree, she now had the whole rainbow of plain dresses. Not only was the variety in color appreciated, but also the simplicity of the piece, as these were some dresses her dearest father had bought from stores on his occasional travels around the barony rather than commissioning a tailor.
“I think Agatha will like this. Simple enough that it does not look infantile and also not fancy enough that she might have problems accepting it.” Of course, Christie wasn’t just going to lend her the dress but outright give it to her lover. “But she is my lover…” She muttered under her breath as she gathered undergarments and footwear. “Should my stuff not be hers and so on?”
But she knew that wasn’t the case. From a cynical point of view, that only applied to a legal marriage. Which, even more technically speaking, only applied to nobles as commoners didn’t tend to marry. Such commoner unions were on a word-of-mouth basis, after all.
“So that should mean it is it not wrong…” The redhead countered her own point. “Even for our little, hidden relationship.”
And then she stopped thinking about it. Both of her forearms were littered with pieces of clothing dangling precariously and her hands were occupied with two sets of footwear – moccasins and sandals – so she knocked on the bathroom door with her foot.
“I have everything here. Could you open the door? I fear my hands are full.”
A moment later, the door opened and a blushing Agatha met her. The blond was clutching at her chest even though she was completely dry by now, a gesture that only excited Christie even more. She said that I looked like a bunny to her when she met me at the statal examination, but she looks so much like the scared hare now… The nouveau riche had to use every last fiber of her willpower not to say that out loud.
“I think this one piece will suit you well, and I also brought a handful of underwear and socks as I was not sure what would fit you,” she told her little, adorable, leporine, and shy inamorata.
“Thanks,” Agatha said softly, snatched the clothes out of Christie’s arms, and closed the door behind her.
Wait, how did she close the door if she walked away? The redhead thought in perplexity as she saw the petite girl walk away from the door as it closed. Oh, I am blessed with such stupidity some of the time, she gasped as she realized that agates were, in fact, a thing. I am so limited in my own usage that I forget that people can just… use them freely.
With a sigh, Christie went back to rummaging through the closets to get an outfit of her own. She sighed again when she saw the contents.
“Of course that my dearest father has bought even more dresses,” the nouveau pinched the bridge of her nose as she saw her chronologically latest closet fill to the brim. “Miss Diorite should have tightened his leash instead of setting it free now that I was away…”
Just to make her dearest father happy, the redhead chose one of the new dresses, a soft green one with short sleeves. More summer-y but still boasting a decently long skirt.
By the time she was done, the grandfather clock tolled its bell, announcing supper time. It was way cheaper to have an agate vein working as a clock, yet her father still chose to have several mechanical clocks dispersed throughout the mansion.
“Agatha,” Christie knocked on the door. “It is time, are you done?”
“Uhm… I am but…” The voice across the door was more muted than it should be.
“But what?”
“I… do not think this dress fits me…”
“Nonsense!” The nouveau riche protested. “Open the door and I will judge that by myself.”
Christie could have opened the door herself, but she had learned her lesson. Her ladylove needed her space, and she would give it to her. If Agatha did something, it was because she wanted to. Shakily, the bathroom door opened and the petite girl peeked her head over it.
“Agatha, I cannot see the dress if you hide behind the door.”
“I cannot help it!” The blonde half-yelped half-yelled. “This is the fanciest I have ever dressed and I feel… weird.”
Sacred be the earth! Christie cursed inwardly. I chose a fractured store dress on purpose so she wouldn’t react this way! She knew that shouting at her would only make her cower, so she kept it to herself. She also was aware that if she grabbed that round face of hers and kissed her, her darling would listen to her every command as she became inebriated in love, and that was precisely why the redhead didn’t do it.
Christie was trying to be less forceful around Agatha, no matter how hard that task might be. Not only did she not want to hurt her sweetheart, but she also yearned for the blonde to be the one who initiated their interactions. Just like the one who started it all. And that required self-control.
A lot of self-control.
“The academy’s uniform is far fancier,” Christie countered with a macerated smile.
“That is not the same, and you know it! One thing is a uniform and the other is… well, wearing fancy dresses,” Agatha sighed. “I look ridiculous.”
“I will be the judge of that,” the redhead stated plainly. “Agatha, please, reveal yourself.” Well, that came out wrong, Christie instantly realized, but she didn’t bother to correct herself and just continued to smile.
Her swain took a deep breath and pushed the door open, therefore allowing Christie to see the dress. The light-blue dress matched perfectly with Agatha’s slightly tarnished blond hair, but her sun-kissed skin and sapphire eyes were also a notable combination. She also wore the sandals instead of the moccasins, which fit better with their white color.
“Agatha,” she called her out taciturnly as she looked at the petite girl from head to toe. “You are gorgeous.”
“Croak…” Agatha yelped. Or at least, Christie hoped that it was a yelp.
“What in the depths was that?” The blonde was already blushing, but the remark from the redhead truly set her ablaze like a campfire.
“I do not know…” She revealed with a very, very soft voice as she looked away, a hand rubbing the sapphire on her chest.
Christie smiled. Her ladylove was embarrassed to death, but she only saw a beautiful sight. Though truth be told, it was that beautiful because of that embarrassment.
“Should we get going then?” The redhead turned away, but as she did so, she felt a tug on the skirt of her dress. She turned her head, fearing that it might have gotten lodged somewhere, only to find that it was the blonde holding it. “Something wrong, Agatha?”
“This is the l-last time we will see for the rest of the day, right?” The petite girl slightly shivered as she spoke.
“I guess so. We should rest after supper; we have been on the road for too long.” The tall girl spoke with supreme confidence. She was normally the one who trembled, yet as she saw her dearest acting so meek, a passion became aflame inside her that only made her mightier.
“Could we… uhm…” Agatha blushed even more intensely, her cheeks ablaze as if commanded by Heat. “I mean… T-this is the first time in a while that we have been alone, so maybe, you know…”
“What do I know?” Christie tilted her head in faux confusion, as she had a vague idea of the nature of the request.
The villager took a deep breath and her tremors stopped. Her eyes were locked with the nouveau riche’s. “Could we kiss?”
Christie didn’t bother to give her a verbal response as she slightly knelt to match Agatha’s height and met her small lips. The petite girl jolted a bit, but she didn’t pull away from the kiss; in any case, she became voracious as she bit ever-so-softly the tall girl’s underlip. The redhead responded in kind by pinching her lover’s upper lip with her front teeth, suckling only a tiny bit.
They simultaneously freed their respective vocal grasps, only to plunge themselves back into another kiss, now exchanging their tongues and saliva in a sloppy affair. Christie put a hand behind Agatha’s head to pull her even closer, and she reciprocated in kind by putting an arm around her waist.
Agatha, that was the only thing Christina Valasela could think about as she combed her hand through the blonde’s hair. It was still humid from the bath.
That made her go even crazier.
Her inamorata separated her lips for a quick breather, but the redhead’s sanity had dwindled too much to concede her such privilege as she landed a peck on her lips and assaulted her again.
And again.
And again.
Oh, Agatha. Agatha… Christie’s arms trembled as she felt something building up inside her. It was really difficult to contain. She felt that primal urge when someone saw something adorable and small, like a kitten, and just wanted to snuff out its life. Agatha, Agatha, Agatha… I want to eat you whole.
Then someone knocked on the door.
“The supper’s ready.” It was Adrien. “Come to the dining room before Diorite becomes mad.”
Said Agatha jumped out of her grasp with feline grace; Christie was so dazed that her posture lingered for a handful of more seconds as she realized what had just happened. Her cheeks put all of Agatha’s previous blushes to shame.
The two girls shared a meek and embarrassed look. Then they broke into a silent giggle. Once Christie had recovered her composure, she projected her voice.
“We will be there in a moment! I was helping Agatha choose clothes for supper!”
“Gotcha,” the coachman responded and his steps echoed across the corridor until they completely disappeared.
“How is it that it is I who gets the fault dumped on?” Her lover pouted and crossed her arms.
“It was not a lie,” Christie answered with a smile and then kissed her on her button nose. “Now, let me fix your hair a bit; it has become a mess from all the kissing.”
“More like you have made it a mess,” Agatha half-heartedly protested as she let herself be escorted before the mirror.
Christie picked up the comb and started fixing the blonde’s hair, but as she did so, she closed onto the petite girl’s ear and whispered, “And I would do it again.”
The redhead hummed in pleasure as Agatha blushed again. She tried to fight against her, but Christie locked her into place and quickly fixed the seductress’s hair. With a smile, Christie puffed her chest in satisfaction at a job well done.
“Shall we get going?” She pressed her cheek against Agatha’s head.
“You are not going to fix your hair?” Her ladylove looked at her with a tired squint.
“We do not have time for that,” Christie threw the comb away before Agatha was able to steal it and she pulled the petite girl by her hand out of the room.
The villager pouted in frustration at not being able to reciprocate the teasing, which only made the nouveau riche even more. After all, it was obvious she wanted to mess up her hair rather than to fix it as Christie’s head had been left unperturbed during their vocal exchange. As she led Agatha across the mansion, the blonde grew more silent and collected once they approached the dining room. Christie stood one moment in front of the door and took a deep breath, for she expected a shout from Miss Diorite.
When she opened the door, they were met by a warm and lovely smell. Her dearest father sat at one end of the table, and surprisingly, so did Adrien and Miss Diorite at the sides of the table.
“Do we eat all together tonight?” Christie mouthed as she sat on the opposite side of the table to her dearest father.
“I believe the occasion called for it,” the vulpine man answered.
“Uhm…” She felt a voice whisper in her ear once she sat down. “Where do I sit?”
The redhead turned her face to the side and squinted in confusion. Oh, I assimilated myself back into the mansion lifestyle that I forgot about Agatha. Oops.
“Sit to my right as my dearest father has them to his right.” It was a soft, implicit statement. Not quite a show of strength, but at least it was something. Christie didn’t want to push the issue just yet.
“Right,” Agatha responded under her breath and sat right next to her.
Christie didn’t blame the girl for not knowing where to sit, as there were many chairs all around the table and Miss Diorite had decided to set plates and utensils for every single one, even if there were only five people present. If the intent behind that was to make the room more lived in and less empty, the head maid failed, for it only felt more devoid of human presence now.
“And what is the occasion?” Christie went back to her dearest father’s previous statement as she guided her hands around the table to pick up from the many plates on its spine to guide Agatha. Instead of a three-course meal, it was more of a first-come first-served type of feast with plates of delicacies served in a line on the elongated table’s center.
“Christina, my dearest daughter,” the patriarch chuckled, “have you even forgotten when your birthday is?”
“Oh,” the redhead mouthed as she realized that today was indeed the day. “That was… oddly good of timing.” And chuckled herself.
“Quite,” her dearest father nodded as he moved himself to put something on his plate. “Whilst it would not have been an issue to not celebrate your birthday on the day itself…”
Christie squinted. Miss Diorite squinted. Adrien squinted. Literally no one bought those words. Well, maybe Agatha did, but that was because she didn’t know how Christie’s dearest father’s mind worked. Yet.
“…it is still nice that you have made it back home to celebrate it,” the green-eyed man finished speaking, oblivious to the shared gazes at the table.
“Are the dresses that I found in my bedroom my gifts?” The green-and-red-eyed girl raised her voice ever-so-slightly.
“Oh!” Her dearest father’s eyes shot wide open in realization. “You are wearing one of them!” Both his visage and tone overflowed with glee. “I am glad you are using them, but I am afraid not. You mentioned last year that you did not like that I treated you like a child, so that is my present.”
“My present is… not getting presents?” Christie squinted.
“Yes,” the patriarch nodded.
She smacked her lips and contained a sigh. “I do not know how to put it into words, but this is one of the best presents you have ever given me.”
“I knew you would like it,” he smiled warmly. “Even I can realize that you are not a child anymore. So I will not pamper you again.”
“Dearest father, you have had my friend’s mother out of the estate so she can bring a convoy of tailors to make me new dresses,” Christie looked at him with a tired tone and a squint.
“I will not pamper you as much,” the lithe man corrected, his smile only intensifying. “And now that you have mentioned Esmeralda,” her dearest father turned to face her inamorata, who almost choked at being noticed. “Is it my estate to your liking, Agatha?”
“Y-yes, uhm… Hasel,” the blonde responded with uncertainty.
“I am glad to hear that,” her dearest father's smile didn’t falter. “So, if you are Esmeralda’s daughter, then you are from this barony, right?”
“Yes,” Agatha answered with more confidence, but her voice was still trembling ever-so-slightly.
“That is curious to say the least,” the Valasela patriarch cut a chicken leg with a knife as he spoke. “A girl from a village, daughter to a seamstress, and yet she has managed to reach the heavens. Academically speaking, at least. How is it so? Are you academically gifted yourself?”
Christie couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable as she saw her dearest father interact with her dearest. Not only was she anxious about the case that he somehow unraveled their relationship, but those questions also pestered her. Even if he didn’t know she was dating the girl, that was no way to talk to your daughter’s best friend.
“Dearest father?” Christie called him out. “Would you please not interrogate my best friend during supper?”
“Oh, Christina of mine, I am not interrogating her. I am just genuinely curious. I must know if she is even more gifted than my prodigal daughter.”
“No, I am not,” the blonde chuckled awkwardly. “I was admitted to the Skyscraper Academy because of my agate as it piqued the interest of a researcher.”
“Ah, I see,” her dearest father was surprisingly comely with his response. “It is indeed outstanding how you have managed to achieve the Third Stratum during your first year of instruction.”
“Er…” Agatha raised her voice, but she blushed and then shrank.
“What is the matter?” Unfortunately for her darling, the Valasela patriarch didn’t give up easily, especially after being engaged with him in conversation.
“I just was, um, wondering how you knew of the current Stratum of my agate.”
“There is nothing much to it, I have just seen a lot of agates in my life as a miner, so I can tell the quality and Strata of agates. Call it a sixth sense.”
Miner, Christie uttered in the confines of her mind. All her life, she had spent thinking her dearest father was an actual miner who had struck copper and become wealthy, but now she knew that wasn’t the case. From what she had heard from her classmates and her own investigation, miners were the highest degree of soldiers. Perhaps miners didn’t wield the authority of a commander, but their might was prized nationwide, if not worldwide.
And her dearest father was one of them.
“So, how did you become my dearest daughter’s best friend?” The patriarch once again instigated her enchantress with that inquisitive tone of his. Christie squinted at him, her expression growing sourer by the minute, but he eagerly ignored her.
“Well, how people usually become friends,” Agatha giggled, but now in an actual well-mannered way, her fear apparently forgotten. That or she had somehow warmed to the man. “We are roommates, so we interacted daily. Well, that is not quite right. Christie helped me the very moment I arrived at the academy as a noble girl wanted to steal my bed, but she offered to change rooms so there were no issues. So… I guess we were friends since the very beginning? And then we kind of became inseparable. Maybe too much. Christie spent a good chunk of the year without more friends as I just hogged her for myself,” the blonde chuckled amusedly.
Christie felt at ease as she heard Agatha calmly – if not outright enthusiastically – speak. How? Why? The redhead pondered, but the answer came at her instantly, her cheeks warming up a bit alongside the realization. It is because she is talking about me rather than her… She trembled on the spot, wanting to hug her sweetheart right there and then.
“I am glad to hear that.” Christie almost gasped as she saw her dearest father smile. Never before had his smile felt so veritable and warm before. No longer vulpine, but rather… fatherly. “Life has unfortunately twisted my hand and forced my dearest daughter into reclusion, something I lament and will continue to lament until I die, but it warms this father’s heart to hear that even with all those handicaps, she has been able to get such a good friend.”
Agatha blushed at those words, and Christie couldn’t blame her because she was also blushing. Her dearest father was so sincere that it was just shameful.
Whether it was out of shame or lack of initiative, the conversation died. Only small talk ensued as five people at the table went through the many plates. But that didn’t matter to her. The atmosphere was nice and warm, certainly one of the best birthdays she had had for that alone.
Christie was famished from all the road rations and starved of actual good food thanks to the academy food, so she filled herself up. Her consort seemed to do the same as she looked partially nauseated from all the food she had had. And even with all of that, they hadn’t even made a dent in the feast on display on the table.
Soon enough, Miss Diorite brought the dessert. And to no one’s surprise, it was Christie’s favorite. Pudding.
“Mmm~” The redhead moaned in delight, spoon in hand. “Birthday pudding is always more delicious. How do you do it, Miss Diorite?”
“Ah, it is a secret, Miss Christina,” the head made smiled coyly. “If I were to tell you nothing guarantees me that you will rush into the kitchen and try to fill yourself up with subpar copies.”
Others might have interpreted the maid’s words as an insult, but Christie just heard the empirical truth. It had been a handful of times that she had infiltrated the mansion’s kitchen and tried to make something of her own. All attempts had ended in disaster. But I now have Agatha… Could she recreate the birthday pudding? …That has gotten me thinking…
“Agatha,” she called out her ladylove, who was busy stuffing herself with the pudding. Hmm, definitely not a bunny. She is more of a squirrel. “I know it is strange to ask this considering I have not made myself clear until today, but when is your birthday?”
The sciurine girl looked at her with a hint of confusion as she shoved all that pudding down her throat. Once upon a time, Christie would have considered those gestures un-ladylike, but now they were only adorable. Agatha’s expression remained petrified for a moment, clearly performing some mental arithmetic.
“Uh…” She grunted in a mixture of confusion and surprise. “Today?”
