Love Crafted

You wake up a bit earlier than you thought you would. It doesn’t take much effort to figure out why. Abigail is tucked up against you, using your tummy as a pillow. Usually you’re the one using Abigail as a pillow, but sometimes things move around while naps are happening and this isn’t so bad. Your tummy is a very good pillow after all.

Still, you didn’t wake up just because of that. Abigail is mumbling in her sleep, indistinct words that you can’t quite make out that tickle you with each breath. Her eyes are shut really firmly and there’s a teeny tiny frown creasing her forehead.

You’re pretty sure you know why Abigail is like this, you just don’t know why.

You bask in the confusion of that statement for a while.

On the one tentacle, Abigail is worried about Daphne because Daphne likes her. Which is really strange. Daphne liking her isn’t a bad thing. On the other tentacle, Abigail probably likes Daphne back, but she’s not sure if she likes Daphne in the same way, which is also confusing and silly.

You would go on, but Abigail only has so many limbs and therefore can’t juggle as many problems as you can.

No wonder she’s having such a hard time sleeping, the poor silly mortal.

You run your stubby little fingers through Abigail’s hair and try to let her sleep a little more. The sun isn’t up yet, so it’s not school time. Still, you’re awake now, and as much as you adore napping it’s not time for that, not when you need to figure out how to help Abigail.

Fortunately, Abigail has a bunch of books in your little apartment, and they all have knowledge in them. You pop an eye out and fling it over to a tentacle that grabs it out of midair. Now you can scan her library for books about fixing humans.

It only takes a few minutes to discover that Abigail, the silly summoner, has no books on that subject. Not a single one. Plenty of books on boring things like physics and magic and familiars, but not a single good book about Daphnes or love or cuddling.

At least, that’s what you think at first!

Some creative searching and you find a pile of books neatly tucked inside the heating vent right next to the bed. Of course Abigail would hide her best books! Just like how you hide all the smart things you know so deep in your own mind that sometimes you forget how smart you are. You pry the metal grate off the front of the vent with a plop and set it aside.

The books within all have images of male humans wearing very little on their covers, sometimes with girls next to them who are usually only wearing sheets. You make a happy noise, push your eye back in place, and with a few tentacles start reading.

You’re halfway through the first book when Abigail stirs, looks around with big blinky eyes and sees what you’re reading.

Usually Abigail is very cute when she wakes up. There’s lots of yawning and stretching and other post-wake-up adorableness. But this morning she’s up as if someone just doused her in water. She squawks and swipes the book out of your tentacles. The little jump sends her tumbling off the side of the bed and onto the ground with a thud.

You poke your head over the edge. “Good morning!”

“Good morning, Dreamer,” Abigail says. She raises the book up a bit. “Where did you find this?”

A tentacle points off to the side where the grate is sitting next to a hole in the wall. The other books are all just sitting there.

“Ah,” she says. “Can you please... not read these books?”

“But it was interesting,” you say. “I was learning! If I study hard I can be like the heroes in that story.”

Abigail’s face is starting to go red. “Please, please don’t read these books,” she says.

You huff, but it’s a small thing to ask. “Okay. I wanted to learn how you fix you and Daphne.”

Abigail rolls around and stands up, then adjusts her nightshift so that it falls around her legs instead of riding up around her waist. “We don’t need fixing,” she says as she places the book back in its place. “We’re both just... taking some time to think.” She rubs at her face and looks out the window. “And it’s early. Urgh, I won’t be able to sleep. Do you want breakfast?”

Is she asking you if you want to eat? What a silly summoner. “Yes.” You nod you head and begin climbing out of bed too. “But I also want more cuddles because we have more time.”

Abigail laughs, and you’re happy to hear it. Her laugh is the best happy sound. She sets some water to boil and breaks a pair of eggs on a pan, then turns with her arms raised for hugging.

You collide into her and use your arms and a small portion of your tentacudlers to squeeze her close while the eggs sizzle and make the room smell yummy.

When hugging time is--temporarily--over because otherwise the food would burn, you move to the table and sit down on your chair while Abigail puts slices of bread into a magical device that burns and magics the bread into toast. “So, how are we going to make Daphne more happy again?”

Abigail sighs and moves the pan around. “You’re still going on about that?” she asks.

“It’s important.”

She scrapes the eggs onto a plate, pours the hot water into a mug and pulls two toast from her little contraption and butters it up. All of that is placed right in front of you with a fork and knife and a little teabag that you plop into your mouth and swallow. She returns to make her own breakfast while you start devouring yours.

“I... I.” Abigail shifts a little. “I love Daphne. She’s like a sister. More even, a best friend.”

“And she loves you too,” you say as you poke at the yellow egg juice with a corner of a toast.

“I know,” Abigail says.

“Is it because you don’t think she’s pretty?” you ask. “The book talked a lot about boobs. Do you not like Daphne’s boobs?”

Abigail goes red again and rubs at her face. “Dreamer, please don’t... don’t mention that part of a girl’s body.”

“What about her--”

“Don’t mention butts either. Please.” Abigail cuts you off.

You harrumph and go back to eating slowly. You were going to mention wonderful personalities, but now you’re not sure if that’s okay too. Abigail is being very unreasonable with her list of things you can’t do and people you can’t eat, you find.

She sits across from you and takes a sip from her mug of tea. “Do you think I should try?” she asks.

“Try what?” you ask right back. You’re not a mind reader--most of the time--you can’t expect to know what she’s talking about.

“With Daphne? Maybe just, just one date? Maybe? It would make her happy. And I don’t want to lose her because of this.”

“But do you think she’s pretty?” The book stressed that prettiness was the most important thing about a girl. You’re not sure about that. Huggability and cuddliness were never even mentioned.

Abigail goes very red and tries to hide behind her mug. It’s, of course, too small to hide her face. “A little?” she squeaks. “But I like boys.”

Your eyes narrow. “Which boys?” you demand.

“No boy in particular,” Abigail says. “Just... boys.”

You don’t understand this whole thing about picking people based on such tiny differences. You have a hard enough time telling one mortal apart from the other as is. “So you never look at girls and think they’re pretty?” you ask.

Abigail is blushing a lot again.

You sigh. This whole situation is just one big mess. Your summoner is lucky to have such a kind and compassionate and understanding familiar.