Elvira

The thin, wiry figure sat huddled in their cloak, overlooking the vineyard from the railing. There would never come a moment Laplace would get used to this place, here in the canyon amidst a wasteland. Funnily, it might as well be a mirror.

“If I didn’t know better I thought you were committing to an escape.”

Laplace turns their head to see Dima stepping onto the balcony. “I think my hatred of sand and dust trumps my dislike of you lot,” they say. They shrink towards the nearest pillar as Dima settles down on the railing next to them. “What do you want?”

“Sheesh, straight to the point then,” Dima drawls. There’s a bright grin on his face, and he’s somehow managed to make sitting on a railing look like the most comfortable activity. “How would you like a promotion?”

“I don’t work for you unless this is some… Strange new torture method,” they say. Laplace chuffs and turns away. “I’m your prisoner, so I have no choice in the matter.”

“Well, Yes, but that’s why I’m offering this. I want to work with you.” Dima extends a hand. “You’re a necromancer and the sole reason your old boss still stood by the time I got to him. You really have extraordinary skills Laplace.” He chances a smile. “We’d be honored to have you.”

Laplace blinks. “Way to make someone feel confused,” they say, smacking their lips a little. “There was no honor in my lord but it’s not like you have any either.” A grimace. “You’re not fooling me.”

“I know. So you should know I can tell you have nothing to lose,” Dima responds. “So why not take a leap into the unknown? If you don’t end up enjoying it, you can leave and I’ll make sure you’ll be accompanied by a guide to help you through the wasteland.”

Laplace shoots Dima another long hard look. The man batting his long pretty eyelashes doesn’t help with fostering any kind of trust in them. “… Fine.” They take his hand. “But you have to tell me how you do… All of that.” They make a broad gesture.

“You’re gesturing at all of me.”

“Correct.”

- - -

“So you blew life back into a dead egg,” Dima says.

“Hmhm.” Laplace stands looking at said luminous egg with their arms crossed.

“And you chose…” The soul that stirs inside is a troublemaker, certainly, Dima thinks. He can feel the chaotic energy even in its dormancy. His open mouth snaps shut. “Well, at least the tyke is going to be pretty.”

“Stop patting yourself on the back,” Laplace says, though not unkindly. “I think it’s a perfect soul to give a second chance. There’s nothing more beautiful than something fighting against death itself with such fire.” They turn their Ruby gaze to Dima.

Dima meets the gesture with a smile. “There’s no telling if they’re actually going to end up just like the soul you stuck in there. At least, depending on how you raise them.”

Laplace is quiet for a moment. “I… Can’t do that.” They hold up a hand, seeing as Dima is already gearing up to protest. “Not because I don’t want to. But I do not trust myself with a precious young thing such as that. I need to find myself first.”

“So you just wanted to learn my technique for guiding the dead?” Dima murmurs. Laplace nods, and he sucks in a breath. “Guess it’s being dumped on me.”

“Hypocrite. You’ve sent plenty of your own experiments away for the same reason as me.” Laplace snaps and leans in towards Dima. “So something tells me you know how to resolve this.”

Dima sighs. Gingerly he takes the egg in his arms, his half-lidded gaze peering down into its depths. “… Well, I think I know a place. They’ve always been sent to find good homes since I can’t do much here.” Well, there were also those that sought out him to request raising one of his scions nowadays. He turns, beginning to move towards the exit of his underground lab.

By nightfall, Evike would bring the little miracle to their new home.

And the same old loss settles in Dima’s heart.