AVIS IN BETWEEN (Lesbian)

Part 22 (II) AVIS NEVER LOVES

So, it's time to get dressed, for Aquilina could misunderstand the situation if she wakes up and sees her mistress bending over her dressed only in panties and touching her hair none the less. I tiptoe to the wardrobe and open the doors which let a disgusting creak (as if it speaks the same language as the old cot). I am shying away from the gigantic moth that I disturbed and distracted from something important. This is, no doubt, the servant's room. Man's room. The clothes are modest, simple, and there are only few of them, but neatly folded and clean.

That's what I really need: shapeless trousers with straps (mmm... too long), but I can roll up the trouser legs.

I pull on the man's shirt and tuck it jauntily into my pants.

It will do!

I was not able to find my shoes, but I don't care, for those were not good walking ones. The capital streets are not medieval dirty, so I can return to the castle barefooted.

Digging through a drawer, I find a couple of yellowish sheets of paper and something that looks like a charcoal pencil. With my hands all dirty, I write a note for Aquilina (I hope she can read!):

Dear Aquilina!

Thank you very much for your company! I haven't had so much fun in a long time. You are always welcome in the castle. Come and visit me as soon as you can!

P.S. For the inconvenience caused and for the clothes that I took from the wardrobe, I give you my dress. Hope this will be enough... It's the least I can do for you.

Take care of yourself.

I almost signed my real name, but when I came to my senses, I scribbled "Avis" below.

Oh, how Zarya will be furious when she finds out that I exchanged a ball dress with precious gems and exquisite lace for a pair of working trousers!

I could not help an evil grin twitching my lips when I imagined her angry face.

***

The pungent sun is at its zenith. The working people are in a hurry and heading in every direction; carts, filled with goods, are creaking merrily, moving by themselves, being controlled by Goddess knows what magic; someone is washing the windows of beautiful showcases with pompous clothes, bright canvases or fancy utensils; a small flock of twelve-year-old children in blue tunics are running in the Rathouse direction (little mages from the Academy!). Every now and then small animals dart by; birds flutter out of nowhere; glowing "splashes" of mages' transformation are seen. So amazing: instead of a smiling, hulking fat man, an emerald, flexible lizard appears and quickly runs away somewhere. I hope no one will stand on his tail.

I changed clothes because I wanted to be relatively invisible in the streets, but the opposite happened: citizens look at me even more often now than when I was in my black dress, but as soon as birdpeople come closer, they immediately (as if calmed down) and modestly avert their eyes, blush or nod politely.

It's strange.

"Hey, lad! Yes, you, curly! Get out of this street! This is not a place for dogsbodies! I don't think you want me to jail you for breaking the order. You have your own sidewalks!"

I am approached by a tall, short-haired man in clothes that remind of castle guards, but lighter, without any protective leather armor, and he himself is less attractive in face and figure than the stately, androgynous bodyguards. A man could be from the city guard or a local vigilante.

"Are you deaf? I'm talking to you, lousy boy!" He comes up to me, armed with a whip.

I slowly and viciously raise my eyes to him. Everything inside me is bubbling: just one more step in my direction and I will kill him... But, fortunately for him, the guard no longer approaches me, but he shies away in fear, as if he had seen the ghost of his beloved aunt.

"M-Mistress! You are a Mage! I am so sorry! Please, don't punish me! It's just your clothes that confused me, Mage! It is my job to make sure that all sorts of ragamuffins and dogbodies do not wander in the wrong places! Mistress, have mercy, I have children, I beg you ..."

"Go to hell!" I say exhaustedly, looking at his pathetic face.

I was really ready to kill him...

He bows ten more times, to the delight of the crowd, and disappears behind the blue fruit counter.

How did he know that I am a mage? Of course, my eyes!

I quickly turn to the nearest shop window and notice the same light glow other female mages have. I was sure I didn't have any! I try to get a better look at myself, but the white shine disappears, and it's just simply me and my green eyes, but I do really look like Victorian urchin: the bangs have grown long and are falling to my eyes, the curls stick out in different directions, one strap from the pants has fallen off, and my bare feet have already become dusty. No wonder he mistook me for a beggar boy.

I see both myself and not myself in the reflection, but rather some strange fusion of two people.

How to understand where am I and where Avis is?