Scenes From A Destination Wedding Weekend, Part 2: Breakfast Pastries!

Mona

{reveal "Author Citation"} Hazel is a contestant on Harem Hotel: Dungeon Crawl {endreveal}

“You can consider this a cheat day, Mona. I doubt you’d be able to resist all of the cookies and cakes, anyways.”

Yay! Cheat day! I’m going to eat sooooo much cake!

Mona grabs a breakfast pastry and melts into her seat as she bites into it. Soooo good. They get these all the time? I wonder how Kevin is doing with the other Masters at Mr. Cooper’s party? It’s a little weird being the only Mistress at the bachelorette party...

“Oooh, Summer, Winter, Jenny, you GOT to try one of these!”

At that, a drop dead gorgeous, basically naked lady perks up from a bit aways. Mona is openly drooling over her sexy hips and thighs. She is imagining all sorts of depraved things she should not do with her. It does not help that she is only wearing only vines, which seem to caress and barely contain her. As the woman approaches, Mona starts to feel like the promise she made to Tegan not to flirt outside the harem is... less of a big deal than the vicious vixen made it out to be.

She approaches Skye first, who is by far the one doing the best job of maintaining eye contact. Mona assumes the woman has eyes; she hasn’t gotten her gaze high enough to check.

“My apologies, but I couldn’t help but overhear. Three of your haremettes share names with my disciples. I would love to say a few things to them.”

Skye gives her a pointed look. “My apologies, ma’am, but Mona over there is the Mistress on our current season. I am Skye Copse-Wood, first wife of Queen Tyalangan. I am on staff of our season, as is my daughter Summer. With that cleared up, I am sure no one here will object with you joining us.”

“What a lovely name, Skye!” She turns then to Mona and pauses as she assesses the aggressively horny gremlin for a moment. The process involves turning her torso slightly from one direction to the other to watch the reaction, before eventually offering a smile and a hand with a surprisingly firm grip to shake. “Hazel. I take it you’re enjoying your time on the show?”

Mona still hasn’t made eye contact. Her mind is going haywire. Boobs! Such big boobs! They might even be bigger than Tegan’s when she’s fully topped off with SP! I so wanna grind my clit into her nipple. Ooh, could she order her vine clothes to pin me down? Wait... she said something... C’mon, Mona, be responsible...

“Uh… yeah, generally… the show has been fun… I got to make friends with a bunch of people and got cool magic and got to have fun and stuff. The responsibility and pressure and diet plan and Craig get to me occasionally, but I am sure I can handle it. Can you squish my head between your thighs?”

Skye swoops in like a mother hen. “Okay, Mona, how about we go get some of those pastries for the table? Come on. A pleasure to meet you, Hazel. May The Lady of the Dance bless and keep you.”

The nude drow woman gently pulls the gamer girl away from the others. Mona keeps staring at Hazel’s body until her neck starts to get sore. Skye gently grabs her chin and forces her to look her in the eyes. She sees the worry in it as the elder drow asks, “Okay, Mona, you are usually better than that. What’s gotten into you?”

“Dunno. There was just something about her that made me feel okay vomiting out my horny little gremlin thoughts.”

“She has a transformation that lowers your inhibitions. You need to remember that some people here have transformations they can’t control. Please try to be respectful.”

Mona is better able to resist staring, now that she is well away. And I have been trying to be good. “Thank you for watching over me, Skye.”

“You’re welcome. Want to help get those pastries for the others now?”

Hazel [No Last Name]

Far from offended, Hazel lets out a quiet, earthy laugh at Mona’s offer while the vines that are all she wears rustle and shift as though ready to react. Before either she or they can take action and respond, however, the other woman is whisked away by the lilac skinned woman and she is left in the company of Jenny, Summer, and Winter.

Hazel offers them a warm smile and easily transitions into addressing them, “You wouldn’t happen to have an Autumn hiding somewhere, would you? I met a handful of lovely young ladies who share names with you, but I don’t see a counterpart for their fourth here. Does every season have a Summer, Winter, Autumn, and Jennifer?”

Hazel has a chance to take in the three before her. Summer and Winter appear to be siblings, as far as the nymph can tell. They are dressed the same: basic white blouses, both with a few less buttons done than most humans would consider appropriate in public, with flirty miniskirts. They, like Skye, all appear to be elves, but not like her disciples. They are short, all about five foot tall, with lilac skin. Summer is the curvier of the two siblings, but is considerably less busty than her Summer. The Winter before her is flat-chested. They both have the wiry muscles of, say, a gymnast.

Jenny is a dryad, with sparkling green eyes, deep mahogany colored hair, and cherrywood “skin.” Her little pale sundress clings to the torso of her lithe body and her heels add a few more inches to her already tall height.

“Technically,” Summer starts, “my name is Urinlaire and my brother here is Helchrive, but using full proper elvish names here feels too stuffy. We don’t have an Autumn on our set, but maybe Aunt Tessa counts? Her names have to do with the harvest?”

Winter adds, “Most seasons don’t have names based off of the seasons, actually. The Weaver twins from Athanor are Summer and Autumn, if you like philosophical musings in your smut.”

Jenny is more interested in moving on. She looks a bit nervous. “Things are still relatively new to me. How do you cope with all… that?” she asks, gesturing toward Hazel, “You know, not being human anymore? Sorry if that strikes a nerve.”

The announcement that there might actually be an Autumn – or at least, something close to it – gets a delighted laugh from Hazel. The nymph nods seriously at the mention of the Weaver twins, but then focuses in on Jenny at her question. “Oh, honey – are you struggling with the changes? I’d be happy to talk to you if you need someone friendly to lend an ear. I’m a bit different, though – the only human on our season is our Master. The rest of us, well – I don’t know what kind of world you come from, but magic is a rare and dying thing on ours. I was a nymph when I was born and I’m a nymph now – an Epimelides, if you want to get technical – but one of our girls didn’t even know she was a brownie until she was brought on the show, if you can believe that.”

She takes a moment to look around, then gestures towards the nearest empty two-top table she can find. “If you want to take a minute to talk in private, I’d be happy to. I’m not really sure how this whole thing works, but if you’ve got an Aunt Tessa, I’d be happy to be an Aunt Hazel if that’s what you need.”

The dryad girl hesitates, but the twins distract Hazel to let her decide. Summer starts, “Oh, Tessa is literally our Aunt. She’s in Mona’s harem, too. Nice lady. Got turned into a sea elf, just like Queen Mama. Jenny is one of her roommates, but not a relative.”

Winter leans over to whisper, “You okay, Jenny?”

The dryad nods. “Maybe talking to someone new about this would help?”

With that, the twins set off to mingle. Jenny lets Hazel guide her to the alcove and takes a seat. “Sorry, if this is dumping on you. You seem nice and I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t know exactly where to begin, but, this isn’t the first time I was on the show. I was 19 when I was taken. My first season, the Master was my boss, a middle-aged man running a failing coffee shop. I didn’t do well in the first challenge, which was to write and recite love poetry for him, so my transformation that week was to tie my beauty to how interested my boss was in my conversation. Then, after he decided I was too boring, I was eliminated. I was turned into a... sex toy coffee table, I guess? Ever spent a century unable to move and staring up at the ceiling? Where strange men would…”

She runs out of breath, huffing halfway to tears. She takes a few deep breaths, then continues, “I don’t know all the backroom politics, but my current season’s Host was sent to punish the bastard. She rescued me. Her Producer reversed my elimination to... this. I’m thankful, I truly am, but I’m so scared of failing again. I don’t want to be turned back into an object.”

Before the girl has even finished speaking, Hazel has her wrapped in an embrace that smells of sunlight and rich soil. She doesn’t shush Jenny, but the soft murmurs of comfort she offers brook no gainsaying. “I haven’t, but I’ve talked to a few older trees. Apparently the trick is to have something to look forward to. There was an oak who was always excited for the squirrels nesting in winter, said it made him feel all cozy.”

The line is delivered with such utter sincerity as to be absurd, and is followed by far more practical advice. “Not that I think you’re in any danger of going back – you said your new host was sent to punish the person responsible, so it doesn’t sound likely that they’ll let it happen again – but just in case, why don’t you tell me all about your new season? I may not have a lot of experience with the show but your Aunt Hazel – well, she’s shepherded more than her share of flocks through tumultuous relationships.”

Kevin

While the big group heads towards the Dance Hall for the bachelorette party, Kevin is following one of the identical maids towards the Banquet Hall for the bachelor’s party. The maid is... disturbing. Something about her feels... off. Kevin can’t quite put a finger on it.

Walking beside him is Tyalangan. Kevin is admittedly a little intimidated. He hasn’t exactly spent a lot of time with the Host, especially since he started dating Winter. “So, why am I going to the bachelor party instead of Mona? I’d have figured that all the Masters would be there.”

Tyalangan states, deadpan, “Between her and you, who would more enjoy baking and arts and crafts?”

That is a very good point. I mean, from what I watched, Andy doesn’t seem too much like a dude bro. Maybe this won’t be bad as a militia unit party? At the very least, I won’t have to fake like I’m interested in the strippers, if there are any...

The sea elf smirks. Kevin guesses, “You are reading my mind again?”

“No more than usual. Also, Andy said no to the strippers, much to at least one lady’s chagrin.”

Both a comforting and an unsatisfying answer, that. Kevin nods along, “Then why isn’t Winter coming with us?”

“My dear boy wanted to be with his sister and other mother. Also he likes arts and crafts. He would have had fun with ‘the boys’ too, but...”

I get it. Winter wants to spend time with his family while he can. I can appreciate that. As weird as the situation is, his parents actually love him as he is and not how he projects himself to be. I wish I could live as honestly as him. Maybe, when we save the world?

Kevin observes the Hotel as they walk through it. A very different vibe from the one “back home.” Kevin idly wonders how much of the differences are due to Host aesthetics versus appealing to the Master in question. Mona would definitely be intimidated from how “adult” everything feels. Speaking of Mona, the bull’s worry about last night creeps back up.

He hesitates, but still asks, “While I have you, about what happened last night...”

The Host pauses and gets very still. “Mona was and is fine. Her plan worked better than she intended in a way she didn’t intend it to. If her plan failed, I was watching and waiting. That’s all you need to know before we get back. I don’t want to explain it repeatedly and will need to talk with her privately first. Let’s just try to enjoy the weekend.”

“But...”

Tyalangan arches an eyebrow.

“It went that badly, huh?”

“No comment. Drop it.”

The Banquet Hall doors stand open. Warm light, teak floors, a buffet running the whole length of one wall, and past the glass, the zen garden sitting in its own quiet square of morning. The maid stops two paces short of the threshold, folds her hands, and waits. She doesn’t go in. She doesn’t leave, either.

Kevin walks past her and doesn’t look back. If she’s still standing there in an hour, I’m not going to be the one who checks.

“Harper!”

The voice comes from somewhere in the middle of the room, and then its owner arrives at speed: a woman almost six feet tall, electric blue hair tied in a short ponytail, sleeves shoved up past the elbow, a clipboard tucked under one arm like a weapon she’s decided not to draw yet.

Harper’s whole posture changes. “Sam.”

They hug. When they break apart Sam keeps hold of her forearms and looks her over.

“Birthday party,” Sam says. “You gave him a sword and a koala headband.”

“I stand by both.”

“He did show the Warrior Princess look. Did you see? But she wears the headband wrong.”

“I’m aware. I’ve made my peace.” Harper glances at the clipboard. “Am I on that?”

“Groomsperson. Which means tomorrow you’re mine at seven, you stand where I put you, and you don’t teleport anywhere.” Sam taps the page twice. “Anywhere.”

“Seven.” Harper says it the way someone repeats a diagnosis.

“Seven.”

“I haven’t been told seven in about a century.”

“Then it’ll do you good. Extra sleep and all that.” Sam jerks her chin toward the far end of the Hall, where a knot of people are already laughing too loudly for the hour. “Felix has been asking after you. Andy’s looking forward to seeing you. Go. Eat something first. Trust me on the eating.”

Harper goes, and doesn’t look back either, which Kevin finds he appreciates.

Then Sam turns and looks up. And up.

“Huh,” she says.

Here we go.

“You’re Kevin.”

“I’m – yes.”

“You owe my fiancée forty dollars.”

Kevin blinks. “...I’m sorry?”

“You glitter-bombed your return letter to us.” Sam sticks out a hand. Kevin takes it; his own swallows it whole, and she shakes it like that’s completely normal. Her grip is surprisingly strong, and Kevin somehow is certain that if she wanted to, she could probably crush his hand like paper. It’s an odd thought. “Sam Collins. We found glitter in the bed. We found glitter in the shower drain. Liesa found glitter in a book she hadn’t opened since the first round, and I need you to sit with that for a second, because I’ve had weeks and I still can’t get there.”

Wait... what? I don’t... Kevin stammers, “That must have been Mona’s idea.”

“Mona didn’t sign it.”

“No,” Kevin sighs. “She did not.”

“Forty dollars. New sheets.” Sam is already walking, and he follows, because that appears to be how she moves through the world. “You wrote back fast, though. I liked that. Most people take a round.”

“I had questions.”

“You did. Nine of them.”

“They were separate issues.”

“They really weren’t.” She stops at a table near the windows and pulls out a chair, and Kevin’s chest goes tight, because the chair is enormous. Deep-seated, high-backed, reinforced at the joints, built for something with his shoulders and his horns and his weight. There’s a folded white towel on the seat. Sam doesn’t say anything about the towel. She doesn’t look at it, or at him, or make her face do anything at all – she just holds the chair and waits.

Kevin sits down. It takes him a second to get his voice back to the right place.

“Thank you.”

“Eat before the eggs go cold. They do that here out of spite.” She drops into the seat opposite and props her chin on her hand. “So you’re the one who isn’t sleeping with her.”

The bluntness of it knocks something loose. “...Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Sam nods slowly. “Me too.”

Oh.

“Ten years,” she says. “College. He almost ran me over with a bike, and then I sat on him for three days until he passed foundational math, and that was pretty much that.” She picks a grape off his plate without asking. “Everybody else in this hotel has a word for what they are to him. Wife. Consort. Contestant. There’s a whole scoreboard in the lobby. And then there’s me, and for the first two weeks I kept standing around waiting for somebody to hand me one.”

Kevin thinks about the confessional booth these kinds of shows normally have. About the cameras. About being asked, on record, in front of everybody, who he’d pick.

“Did anyone?”

“Nope. So Andy and I, we picked our own,” She shrugs. “Best friends. Honorary siblings. Partners in crime. Pick your poison.”

“That’s not really an answer to the question.”

“It’s not,” Sam agrees. “It’s just what I did instead.”

Kevin turns his cup a quarter turn on the tablecloth. “Winter says something similar. That if you wait to be given a place you’ll wait forever, so you should just...” He stops. Hears it. Feels the heat go up the back of his neck and into the base of his horns.

Sam takes another grape.

“Winter’s the drow, right? With the sister who dresses like him?”

“...Yes.”

“Smart,” she says, and reaches for the coffee pot. “Sounds like a handful.”

“He is a nightmare. But the good kind.”

“Best kind.” She fills his cup without asking whether he wants it, then her own. “Okay. Eat fast.”

“Why?”

“Because in forty minutes I’m making all of you climb a wall.”

Kevin looks at her over the rim of the cup. Sam looks back, entirely serene.

I like her.

Kevin: -1 BP (BP Transfer, plus interset conversion fee)

Sam Collins: +8 BP (BP Transfer)