MAZOness

Myriil touched her index finger to her lips, tapping the soft pad against them distractedly. This new world was much different than the one she normally lived in, and had very little in common with the few places she had ended up by accident. A hard, gray stone covered the streets and most of the buildings that lined the streets; windows and metal took care of the other structures. Large boxes of metal with rubber tires streaked through the middle of the roads, forcing all those on foot to walk close to the buildings on a lighter gray path. Tri-coloured lights marked the intersections and held some sort of control over the cars. The scent of food was present, but it mostly smelled of strange smoke.

Kurix mentioned coming to a place similar to this once. He hadn't been there long, only meeting a strange man named Furieux before he ended up in the forests of Callisting again. Since mentioning this anecdote, the attention-deficient doppelganger faded into the streets and hadn't appeared since. Myriil saw no point in playing hide-and-seek with him. She could see through his disguises without hesitation, but unless he was within line-of-sight, he may as well have been invisible. She wasn't upset about it; Kurix would scamper back when he sated his need for fun. As for what she would do. . .

A series of shrieks and screams struck at her ears, nipping the points and spiraling inwards. Myriil strode a little quicker down the hard stone path; she didn't run, sensing excitement in the sound rather than fear, but she was curious nonetheless. She looked left down the next crossroad and saw a crowd of young humans, the majority female, clustering around a shop decorated with thin, brightly-coloured lights. She tilted her head, wondering what the elation was about, but when she caught the sound of music drifting through the mass of excited humans, Myriil decided to just investigate.

---

Mark, long-time employee of Shuffle Songs, sighed, ruffled his acorn brown hair and begrudgingly messed up his beloved spikes. He wanted to care, but fielding questions about the idol plastered all over the store since he opened shop had drained his motivation. None of the girls that had walked in were interested in anything other than Mazo and his newest album, Charm. MAZOness was this year's epidemic, mesmerizing the female populous and a good portion of the male side as well. Mark sighed, knowing he had no argument to make. Mazo was talented, charismatic, and had a habit of appearing to charm his fans in person. Someone started whispering that Mazo might appear at the store sometime that day and they'd been flooded with freeloaders since. They'd made some sales on Charm and Mazo's latest poster, but most had bought the CD when it first came out. He glanced at Angel, who looked just as tense and tired as he was.

Geez, is that fantasy convention here already? Mark tilted his mouth into a bothered diagonal line when he saw the newest customer to make it through the flock of teens and past the front doors. She looked like something out of a Tolkien book; long, silvered hair; tall ears pointed at the tips of the cartilage; her clothes detailed with elaborate markings on the fabric; Mark glanced to her hips and noticed a sword and sheathe tied to a nice belt. He quirked an eyebrow, wondering if it was real, then wondered if this girl was for real. She certainly didn't skimp on the details; the ears were impressive, not even showing the seams where her ears ended and the fake points began. He watched as she gazed around the music store, delicately touching CDs, guitars, and speakers with the tips of her fingers, which were not covered by the ornate gloves she wore. He furrowed his eyebrows together, thinking her act to be quite involved, perhaps a little over-the-top. Mark glanced to his co-workers, but Angel and Jamal gave no indication that they cared to deal with the new girl; he sighed, tried to fix his hair, and walked over.

"Can I help you?"

Myriil turned away from the long, stringed instrument towards the young human that approached her. She gave him a smile. "Maybe. I was just wondering about the music I could hear from outside. Everything in here is so metallic, like nothing I've ever seen before."

Mark flinched, almost missing every word spoken to him. He hadn't expected this cosplayer to look the part of an elf either. He'd been to a few conventions before, and it was understood that anyone could dress up for them, whether they suited the part physically or not. This girl, well, he didn't know what to think. She didn't fit Vogue or Paris's walkway of models, but Mark couldn't erase the blush spreading across his cheeks. Something about her smile stuttered his heartbeat.

"You're. . .not from around here, I guess?"

"No, I'm sorry. I hope I'm not bothering you."

"N-No." Mark looked at his feet, not exactly sure why his normally cool attitude around girls was failing him in front of a (very good) cosplayer. "Um, you like music, I guess?"

Myriil ducked her head, trying to find the young man's gaze, not sure why he started staring at the ground. "Yes, music is a very important part of me."

"Um, all right." Mark turned towards a nearby player with a series of demo discs settled on its lower shelves. He tried not to look at the windows and shelves, this section of the store plastered with the decade's hottest icon, and instead told Myriil about how headphones and CD players worked, handing her the display set to try. "Hm, you probably like Celtic music, huh. I'll see if I can find something. . ." He muttered something more and shuffled away.

Myriil kept her attention on the two foam pads held together with a single band at the top, marveling at the idea that this device could play music without the instruments. She couldn't wait to try it, ecstatic to know how it worked. She glanced to the shelves and saw one face repeating throughout the section of the store. She picked up a plastic case that Mark had called a CD to look at the idol that all of the girls outside were talking about. He had eyes the colour of blue crystal in the sunlight, and a smile that sparkled even without the effects on the paper around him. There was a long-stemmed rose in his teeth; the colour of the petals was similar to the electric lights she saw outside of the store. His hair made her giggle, spiked up like forks of lightning. Myriil wondered if the style was natural, just like another human she knew. She touched the scar on Mazo's cheek and knew she wanted to hear his music. She pulled out the CD inside the case and placed it in the player.

Myriil couldn't describe the sound that filled her ears. The melody carried sounds she had never heard before and knew she could not replicate on her flutes. Sounds like chaos that this Mazo somehow contained and conducted with expert skill. She thought of his smile when she closed her eyes, touching a hand to the earphone that played his music for her to hear. Charm was the perfect name, capturing her heart with only a single song. The second song began, a fresh cadence stronger than any magic she faced in battle. A blush touched her cheeks and she didn't try to hide it.

"Yet another girl lost to his charm." Mark sighed, returning to the counter, not surprised but nonetheless disappointed that Mazo claimed another one. He joined his coworkers in cleaning the store, having very little else to do if potential customers were all outside, high with hope that Mazo would appear for them. Every so often, he glanced in Myriil's direction and looked away just as fast; her euphoric expression was too much to bear, and not simply because it was Mazo to inspire it. Her smile was so genuine, not sparked by want or desire. Simply happy.

Soon, Mazo's magic came to an end, the thirteenth song whispering its final notes, and Myriil gently removed the headphones, the euphoria still lighting her eyes. There were no words to describe the music Mazo wielded on this small disc and she would not try to make them up. She would never forget his smile, not with the melodies she now knew. Myriil replaced the headphones on the player, and prepared to go looking for Kurix.

"Um, did you want to buy the CD?" Mark asked, sidling to Myriil's left, feeling pushy despite doing his job. Something about her honest expression.

"Oh, I would love to, only I don't have your mechanisms to work it." Myriil gave an apologetic smile as she placed Mazo's CD case back on the shelf she had picked it up from. She did want to support Mazo's art, however he made it come through these devices, but she knew nothing like this existed in the world where she would eventually return.

"Th-that's all right." Mark produced a pair of large crimson headphones from behind his back; they were the same colour as the rose Mazo was holding in his teeth. "These are promotional HPD players; that's, uh, HeadPhone Discs, and they run on sunlight. They can last up to six hours after the sun exposure if charged enough, so you can take it."

HPD players were a new technology that Mazo himself had designed, or at least had commissioned to be designed for his music. The HPD only carried one disc, but the novelty of having a set of headphones similar to Mazo's was enough to garner more attention from the fans. Mark had been planning on keeping that player he had for selling online, but instead wanted to see Myriil smile at him the way she had for Mazo's talent.

He got his wish.

"Oh, but I don't have your currency." Myriil patted Mark's hand as a thank you, taken by his kindness.

"That's fine. I'll exchange it later." He shrugged off Myriil's next protestation and held the headphones towards her, gesturing that she take them. Warmth prickled his hands when her fingers brushed his.

"Thank you, this gift means more than you know." Myriil pulled out a satchel of gold and silver coins that could have bought a number of valuable rituals, believing the device to carry value beyond magic. Mark startled a little at the weight of the pouch, wondering what kind of technophobe town Myriil came from.

He didn't get a chance to ask; the swarm of Mazo fans outside gave a shrill scream and began a stampede down the city streets. On the other side of the store, Angel remarked that Mazo must have really come. Myriil brought her new headphones to her chest and wondered about that.

---

"There you are." Kurix gave a lazy stretch as he came around the side of the music store and stepped to Myriil's side. He glanced at the odd device in her hands and gave a yawn. "Done anything useful today?"

"You deceived this crowd of humans, didn't you?" Myriil looked around, seeing accidentally dropped autograph books, roses, and plenty of Mazo pictures. The crowd had disappeared, which was no small feat given its size. She had guessed the real Mazo hadn't come; he wouldn't have appeared just to run away from his fans. Unlike a doppelganger she knew.

"Harmless fun." Kurix ignored the solemn look in Myriil's gaze, seeing no need to apologize about a crowd of gullible humans who failed to question the odd clothes their "Mazo" was wearing. He hadn't bothered altering his attire, only his looks. The prank worked and it had been fun. "Never mind that. I managed to locate a certain bloody moron and he's much more fun than these young humans."

"You found Raigen, here?" Myriil did not chastise Kurix for the name he had pinned to Raigen; the two of them didn't call each other by their actual names; instead, she only heard "bloody moron" and "you damn dolphinginger" when the two spoke about or to one another. The men were too stubborn to be polite, and Myriil decided not to fight a battle that offered only loss.

"Yeah, he was competing in a street match a few miles over. In an official ring even." Kurix didn't lose the sly curve of his smile, stretching his arms out, fingers laced, before placing both hands behind his head. Myriil said nothing, though suspicion trickled through the gray-blue waters of her eyes. Kurix widened his grin and showed teeth. "It was a tough match. I noticed our bloody pal looked a little tired, so I tossed him a white towel to pat his face with."

Myriil crinkled her eyebrows. She didn't know much about Raigen's wrestling and fighter career; he was always too embarrassed to talk with her about it whenever they crossed paths. She did know, however, that white flags meant surrender in the human world of battle politics. "But, wouldn't that mean you had him forfeit."

Kurix only upheld his grin. Even as the sound of raging steps pounded the ground and a loud yell rang through the streets.

"I'll kill you, you damn dolphinginger!!"

Myriil sighed, watching her ally stick out his tongue and dash down another alley just as a bloodied streak of lightning tore down the street after him. She knew there would be destruction and injury if Kurix was caught, and saw no reason to try and stop it. Raigen had agreed to only ever injure the troublesome doppelganger, even if his threats were much worse. Instead of fighting the inevitable, Myriil slipped the headphones over her ears and willingly returned to Mazo's spell.