Instantly, I was washed into a merry crowd of Naids, sprinkled with a few Harpies, Hurpiti, and Luc-Luc. Whenever someone saw Basilisk, they greeted him with a cheery “Gorsis!” before drawing him into a conversation. Once again, his unfamiliar attitude returned as he smiled and laughed out of tune with his self from minutes ago.

As we made our way through, Basilisk introduced me to every curious person we came across. I was peppered with questions that I tried to answer politely (and yes, I did cuss a few times. Don’t judge me. Be glad I toned it down). I have to admit, I enjoyed myself. This band of friends and neighbors had whipped up quite a celebration in one of Wake’s parks: tables laden with foods, drinks, and desserts; hats, beads, and masks in chests spread out on the grounds; competitions of games with hoops and balls and whatever the partygoers could think of; all bundled together in an atmosphere that just instantly made you feel light on your feet.

While I might have had fun, I made sure to stick close to Basilisk. He was basically my card to my party. Without him, I’d just be some stranger…

Fuck, that makes me sound bad, doesn’t it? Okay, fine: I had fun hanging out with him. I said it, damn it. Happy?

Basilisk pointed out the tastiest bits of food and helped me picked out random accessories for us to wear. He helped me talk with the folks of the party, acting as a mediator until we could carry on our own conversations. And when we started playing those backyard games, shit broke loss.

For one game, a bunch of partygoers ran an obstacle course set up around the perimeter of the park. It was nothing major; just some sandbags, boxes, mud pits, etc.. At one point, Basilisk and I were neck and neck as we climbed over several stacked crates with a couple of ropes swinging from the top. He broke ahead and reached the top crate before me. I started climbing over when he jumped over to the other side. His tail had whipped out and knocked my hands off! I fell, landing in a puddle at the base of the stack. I would have thought it was an accident, but Basilisk stuck his head around the corner, flashed a grin, and ran off laughing. I was stunned; I had never seen him act like that. Then, I got mad. During the next game, a prepared food fight, he may have ‘accidentally’ gotten hit in the back of the head by a wayward pie. Who’s to say what happened?

That’s how it went for most of the night. Whenever we participated in a game, Basilisk and I tried our damned best to outdo the other. Every time I saw him in the middle of a game, he was smiling like a fool. For the first time, he genuinely didn’t look lethargic; instead, he never stood still as he switched from one game to the next with some unbounded energy. Even when we had to take a break, he was in a better mood, nonstop talking to me the entire time.

We chatted back and forth, telling random stories that happened to cross our minds. We exchanged complaints about certain customers that came into the Tidepool. We people watched, well, more like we laughed at anyone making a fool themselves. I discovered, much to my surprise, that Basilisk had been enrolled in combat classes nearly his entire life. When I asked him why he'd been in those classes for so long, his energy flickered and he vaguely replied: “It’s just what happened.” I didn’t press, and we lapsed back into the party games.

We were having fun, the night going so much better than I first expected. It was nice.

Then, I noticed something else.

When the crowds around the games had dwindled and the food had been put aside, the gathered locals began talking to one another in sit down conversation, not just in passing. Unfamiliar, but still friendly, people would rope Basilisk into their discussion whenever they saw him. They would ask how he was doing in some throwaway greeting, sometimes asking about the bakery or some other thing, then the conversation would follow a pattern of questions. The same ones popped up so much that I began to wonder if they were scripted. Basilisk gave the same replies every time, dozen of times, almost word-for-word.

“How’s your brother doing?”

Basilisk: “He’s doing great! He has his hands full with the baby, but Conda and he are happy as can be!”

“How’s your sister faring?”

Basilisk: “She loves her job and can’t stop writing about all she gets to do after her promotion.”

“Where are your parents?”

Basilisk: “They had promised to take the twins to see a carnival a couple of towns away, so they weren’t able to make it.”

“The twins are shaping up just like Cobra and Elapid!”

Basilisk: Laugh - “Yeah, they really are, aren’t they?”

They were so many others that I can’t list them all. After that, they would go on about something his siblings had done when they were younger, a story they heard about the twins, about what his dad did one time, or even ranting about how successful his aunts and uncles were. Until that night, I hadn’t known a thing about Basilisk’s family; fuck, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he lived with his uncle above the bakery. Now, I knew so much from little stories that it felt like I had taken a class about his relatives.

Through all this, Basilisk’s fake demeanor never wavered: every question received a friendly answer, a fake laugh would come up now and then, and he listened patiently as the stories dragged on well after the stars had come out. When the party had been reduced to a handful of people, they called it a night. After helping them pack up, we said our goodbyes and parted ways.

We were walking back towards the Tidepool when I literally watched Basilisk shift over. His comfortable posture slouched back into place, his visage was once again dull, and his voice lost that higher note. I was sort of relieved; the display had started to unsettle me.

“That was fun,” I told him honestly, smoothing my hair that had been ruffled by a feathered hat I had worn throughout the night.

“It was okay,” he replied with even less personality than usual. I know I said he normally looks tired, but Basilisk seemed completely exhausted.

Against my protests, a flicker of concern came up. I blame Cobalt’s influence on that. “What’s wrong?” I asked for the second time that night.

He just shook his head.” Nothing. I’m fine-”

“Cut the crap,” I interrupted. “You’ve been acting off all evening. What’s going on?”

“I said nothing’s wrong,” he replied. “I’m just tired.”

“Tired? You must really think I’m dense. You started acting like that the second Barra showed up.”

“Acting like what?”

“All smiles and polite. Even your voice changed a bit!”

He shrugged. “Don’t know what you want to hear.”

Enough of this. I sped up, turned, and stood right in his way. When he tried to walk around me, I moved to cut him off. After many failed attempts to get past me, Basilisk suddenly lunged to my left. I pretended to block that way, predicting that he would feign to my right, which he did. His body shifted and the next bit was a blur. Suddenly he was behind me, walking away unobstructed. It took me a moment to figure out that he somehow passed me. Something bubbled up inside me, pushing me towards him and grabbing his wrist.

He tried to pull back, but I wouldn’t let go. “Tell me what’s going on!”

“Let go, Lily!” He pulled harder. I tightened my grip.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong, damn it!”

“Just stop!”

“Just tell me!”

“Why do you want to know? It’s known of your concern!”

“Would you just tell me already!?”

“Let go!”

Right then, I felt it. As a prickle ran along my shoulders, I felt a surge of emotions rise up. They were panicked, urging to run away. I pushed them away, for now, keeping my grip on his wrist.

“I’m not letting go until you explain!”

“There’s nothing to-”

“Bullshit! I’m asking because I want to know! I want to know what’s fucking bothering you, so just tell me already!”

He stopped trying to free himself, standing there, stunned. For a second, neither of us moved as the tension in the atmosphere simmered. Then, he let his head drop, just enough so that he couldn’t look at me. I could still see his eyes moving, darting wildly, never settling on any one thing. His free hand started running through his hair, scratching and feeling, leftover bits of pie smearing. The fingers of the hand I held captive started twitching. His feet were shifting relentlessly.

“I.. I don’t- What… Why do… I… I.. There’s not… I don’t… I.. I… I-I-I-I”

His stuttering grew worse, his voice sounding strained, his breathing irregular. His hand in his hair moved faster, making the strand stand up around his horns. His tail lashed relentlessly. One of his feet started grinding against the stones, making a scraping sound. “I-I-I I don’t-”

This isn’t what I expected. The foreign emotions returned, a swirl of confusion. They seemed frantic, overwhelming, yet as if they were trying to disappear at the same time, flickering like the flame of a candle. They came and yet in amalgamations of panic, fear, irritation, and dread.

I dug deeper, trying to find a vivid image. With this strong a feeling, something should emerge, but anything that began to appear broke to pieces or was swallowed up by a presence I couldn’t recognize. It was impossible.

I looked around the surroundings of the street. The windows in the shops had gone dark, the wares absent. No one was out walking since it was so late. I didn’t know what to do: should I take him back to the bakery like this? But it’s such a long walk. Would he be able to make the trip? I need something close…

I remembered a modest home that sat along the edge of the lake, a couple of minutes away. I released Basilisk's wrist, the feel of scales vanishing. The emotions drifted away once the contact was broken. I put my palm against his shoulder, making him flinch, and started guiding him down the road to the lake, where I could find a little help.