Illudora Day

     She blinked, staring hard at the clock. This Kyrii had returned faster than her most loyal questers. And she could only count the loyal ones on one clawed hand. Surprising.

     “Hello again. One copy of A Plague Upon You!, as you requested, milady.” There was a smoothness to the Kyrii's voice, like Fruitmallow Grog simmered to absolute perfection—that may or may not have contained poison beneath the surface.

     “Well...” Jhudora was disappointed at not being able to fry this fellow, turn him into stone, or experiment on him like the others, but this Kyrii's entire attitude was intriguing. “Well done, then.” The praise fell from her lips like pebbles off a cliff.

     But to her even greater surprise, he didn't hastily scoop it up like even her most loyal. “And, I brought a spare, just in case something goes wrong.” The Kyrii reached into his thick mane and pulled out a second scroll, identical to the first.

     Jhudora started. This was even more than what she'd asked for, and in record time, too! And it wasn’t as if one could just waltz up to the Magical Bookshop and buy a copy willy-nilly. These sorts of items could only be obtained by…other means. “What are you?” she asked, her eyes turning to merest slits.

     “Simply one who earns an honest wage, and shall wage war when the time comes.”

     “Guess that's what I'll call you,” she said dryly.

     “Fine with me,” Wage replied.

     “No Neopet has ever thought to bring me two of what I asked for, and on time, at that.” Jhudora mused, tapping her fingernails on the side of her chair. Jhudora was flummoxed, but she was careful not to let it show—much. “In any case, this will help you wage the war you crave.”

     Two scrolls and a bubbling (but tightly corked) potion changed hands. Wage grinned and stroked his tiny beard. “Why thank you,” he purred in his grog-like voice. “Same time next week?” he asked, his eyes locking with hers.

     Where did this Kyrii come from? The faerie needed a second to think. “Yeah,” she acknowledged, waving him away. “Yeah. Fine.”

     “I'll take my leave, then,” Wage bowed and turned to go. “Oh, and...

     Happy Illusen and Jhudora Day.”

     A bang.

     A puff of acid-green smoke.

     And suddenly, Wage was being held by his shirt collar.

     “How—dare—!” Jhudora spat, rage closing her throat. Realizing this, Jhudora unfurled her intimidating wings, bathing the Kyrii in doom.

     “Milady, I know you don’t quite…enjoy having your name paired with the likes of Illusen—”

     The name elicited a hiss from Jhudora’s lips.

     “I beg your pardon, that faerie,” Wage corrected, showing no signs of begging at all. “But I don’t make the calendar. You might want to check that, or else you’ll be late for the celebration. And if you’re late, that may give questers the wrong impression.”

     The calendar?

     “Enough games, Wage!” Jhudora’s grip tightened on Wage’s shirt. “You should know by now: never, ever speak of her when you are anywhere near this bluff, or you’re leaving it differently than how you came in. You got th—” the dark faerie trailed off as Wage showed her his miniature calendar.

     On today’s date, two holidays were unceremoniously smeared together. JHUDORA DAY was written in deep purple script on the right of the date’s box, while halfway through it an annoyingly green ILLUSEN DAY was written on the left, as if competing for the box’s space.

     “No, this can’t be right!” Jhudora snapped. She rushed into her abode, completely forgetting the smirking Kyrii, and pawed through the messy experiments and documents on her desk, shooing away her Bartamus in the process.

     There it was. Two layers of text, reading ILLUDORA DAY to the untrained eye. Despite their respective celebratory days being a month apart, ILLUDORA DAY stared her in the face.

     A cold sweat coated the dark faerie’s skin. “What…no…”

     “Jhudora?”

     Jhudora didn’t need to turn around to know who was standing in the doorway. “You’re not welcome here, and you know it.” The growl was almost as caustic as her potions.

     “I don’t like this any more than you do,” Illusen stepped through the doorway. “But have a look.” Illusen stepped forward with her own miniature calendar.

     “ARGH! What is it with everyone carrying those around these days?!” Jhudora barely glanced at the calendar to confirm it said the same thing on Illusen’s.

     “You really should be more organized, Jhudora,” the earth faerie commented, glancing at the whirlwind of documents and potions, as well as the extremely flustered Bartamus flitting nearby. “It’s a wonder you get anything done with your workspace like this.”

     “I don’t need you to barge in unannounced and criticize how I do things.” Jhudora sniffed. “Now out. Let’s pretend the mistake never happened.

     “That’s just it,” Illusen frowned, a hint of a whine in her voice. “We can’t.”

     “Why?” The word dripped with venom.

     “Just think about it for a second. Everything on the calendar is expected. The Negg Festival, Tonu Day, the Day of Giving, heck, even the 3rd day of the Month of Running.”

     Jhudora’s eyebrows furrowed. “Wasn’t that cancelled?”

     “Has been since the beginning of time. But that’s of no interest.”

     "The point is, if neither of us celebrates our own days, everyone might think something is very wrong with faeriekind, and Fyora won’t like that at all. You know how she reacted when The Fyora Question was published in the Times.” Illusen folded her arms. “We just can’t afford to risk such a report again.”

     Upset though she was, Jhudora was not so reckless that she couldn’t recognize good sense when she heard it. She had been around for that scathing article and the Incident that followed. Nothing she cared to drudge up in her memory.

     And yet, she did remember: she’d cackled when first reading the article, but felt a tiny twinge toward the end. Whether it was empathy or fear, she could not guess, but if someone had done a serious investigation about Jhudora’s plans, especially when it came to that wretched earth faerie—

     Her mind flashed with the image of Wage smirking and stroking his short beard.

     There was nothing else to be done. She simply could not take such a chance.

     Jhudora’s wings drooped over her body, as if she wanted to shield herself from the truth. “All right,” she conceded. “Let’s go…celebrate.” she grimaced.

     “Hold on there, pally.” Illusen’s face contorted into a forced smile with each word. “You’re so not ready for your day.”

     Cupping the dark faerie’s face in one hand, Illusen dabbed at her tongue with the other, then proceeded to smooth a stray lock of purple hair back into place. “Hm, that’ll do, I suppose.”

     “Get your soil-streaked hands off me!” Jhudora pushed the earth faerie away and ran to her mirror. No dirt, thank Fyora.

     Illusen harrumphed. “I hope you don’t mind, but the venue of our conjoined day is your bluff. I left a sign back in Meridell. Everyone should be arriving soon.”

     “How thoughtful of you.” Jhudora rubbed her temples before looking out towards the sun. Was the day over yet?!

     To her horror, a host of Neopets had gathered at the base of the stairs leading to her home, staring at the pair of faeries in awe. Some were cheering. Others were holding up flags sporting crude drawings of Illusen and Jhudora. Some were just gawking as if they’d seen a one-headed Bearog.

     “We’ve got to keep up appearances,” Illusen hissed through clenched teeth as she waved to the populace. Jhudora understood. With shaking hand, she reached for Illusen’s and clasped it, not caring if her sharp nails raked the earth faerie in the process.

     If they had, Illusen showed no sign of pain. She grinned much too widely and continued waving as the two faeries descended the stairs. She did, however, take the opportunity to jab Jhudora sharply in the ribs. Jhudora got the hint and fought the instinct to scowl. Her lips were upturned, her teeth were on display, but she was absolutely. Not. Smiling.

     Jhudora made her way back to her usual quest-giving spot, an imposing craggy structure. If one squinted, it might even have resembled a throne. Without ceremony, Jhudora plopped herself down, leaving Illusen standing before her.

     And before she knew it, Jhudora felt her sides and wings being squeezed. “Scooch over, will you?” Illusen snarled under her breath.

     “There’s no law that says I have to share my seat with you! Forget it, sweetie!” Jhudora growled back.

     “Ms. Illusen, ma’am?”

     The wings and tempers furled into tight coils.

     “Ah, you’re back already!” The earth faerie’s visage softened, but there was a tightness that lingered in her jaw. “You’ve brought the Valentine Kadoatie plushie I’d asked for!” she beamed. “Not an easy task, especially for one so young.”

     The Flotsam in front of the Earth faerie gave a long, slow ripple from neck to tailfin. A flattered shrug.

     “You’ve more than earned this!” Illusen reached behind her and pulled out a long sword, well-crafted with leaf shapes at its hilt. “Now, do take it easy!” she yelped as the Flotsam gleefully took the sword between his teeth and swung it. “It’s not a toy!”

     The warning fell like mist.

     The Flotsam squealed and squirmed away, striking the blade against every tree he passed.

     “Oh, yeah, he’d really earned that,” Jhudora clapped her hands in a mockery of good cheer. “Giving a sword to a child, what in Neopia is wrong with you?” Jhudora snorted.

     Illusen glowered. “He’d completed enough quests to receive that!” Another jab at Jhudora’s ribs. “Anyways, isn’t it time for you to evaluate your quester?”

     Sure enough, there were two lines of waiting Neopets that stretched clean off the violet bluff.

     Jhudora wanted to scream.

     ***

     Time stretched like a hangry Plumpy.

     And suddenly, there was a Neopet between both lines, waiting at the front. To both faeries’ mild surprise, the quester was holding nothing but a camera. It was a Scorchio, grinning from ear to ear.

     “I don’t recall asking for a camera,” Jhudora grumbled.

     “Nor do I,” Illusen mumbled.

     “Oh, it’s not for a quest, per se,” babbled the Scorchio, her grin growing wider. “It’s just that…I’m a huge fan! Of both of you! And to see you both here today—” the Scorchio squealed. “Well, this has gotta be the happiest day of my life! It’s not even my birthday! Please, please, please let me take a picture with both of you!”

     An acrid “ABSOLUTELY NOT” rose to Jhudora’s lips, but again she felt an elbow in her ribs. Did Illusen sharpen those?!

     “Of course you can, sweetie,” Illusen whispered, looking around nervously. “Just…keep it to yourself, won’t you?”

     “No way!” cried the Scorchio, rushing onto both their laps, smacking the faeries with her broad tail. “I’m gonna show all my friends!”

     SNAP.

     A flash that left spots in all three of their visions.

     BANG.

     Next thing they knew, all three of them were positively covered in confetti. A nearby Uni holding a portable (and now smoking) cannon winked at them before scampering off.

     Jhudora pulled a lock of hair in front of her face. The strand was decorated with lime green and purple bits of paper, which was fine, she supposed, but intermingled were tiny circles of deep red and dusty green.

     It would take days for them all to fall out of her hair. Jhudora’s knuckles went white as she made a fist with one hand. She beckoned the next quester toward her.

     “Ms. Jhudora, ma’am…your eminence…your darkiness…” Jhudora waved again.

     The trembling Skeith understood and ceased the formalities. “I’ve got your Dirt Hole.”

     A few snickers from the questing lines. Jhudora silenced them with a scathing glare.

     “Well…so you do,” the faerie acknowledged, snatching up the oddly perfect circle of dirt. “Here you go, kid.”

     Illusen watched in horror as the Skeith gleefully claimed the dual-tone lollipop. “Isn’t that poisonous?” she asked, disbelief drenching the question.

     “What’s the problem?” Irritation pricked at Jhudora’s entire being.

     “It’s just that…he could get…I dunno, poisoned?”

     Jhudora scoffed. “Gimme a break, you just gave that other kid a sword! And Lyrio here is a Skeith besides!”

     The Skeith turned around and raised a claw. “It’s Elyrio, actually…”

     The dark faerie slumped back in her chair. “Fine,” she breathed, exasperation replacing fury. “Fine,” she said again, turning to the Skeith. “What you got there is a gift that keeps on giving. Next!”

     “She’s gone soft,” someone in line whispered. “Look how close they are! And Jhudora didn’t even turn that guy to stone!” someone whispered back. “Jhudora did have a point about the sword.” “Illusen is really losing it.”

     Before long, both lines were bubbling with whispers, each whisperer hoping the two at the top of the bluff wouldn’t hear.

     But faeries have sharp, sharp ears.

     “Who said that? Who started it?” Illusen started, her eyebrows tightening into a knot.

     Jhudora cackled. Was the patience of the ever-so-perfect Illusen beginning to wear thin?

     To Jhudora’s disappointment, Illusen was distracted from her indignation by an immense shadow blocking the sun.

     “Everyone! Everyone!” A shrill call was followed by a swift descent. “We brought the cake! Illusen made it herself!”

     A cheer rose from the crowd as pair of Shoyrus floated down the last several feet to the ground, placing a culinary monstrosity on a nearby table.

     It was like watching a Faerie Cloud Racer wreck—Jhudora simply couldn’t look away. It was tiered in such a way that it was at least as tall as Jhudora. The faerie couldn’t even tell at first glance that the cake, with two clashing shades of green, as well as purple and earthy red, was entirely covered in soft icing, so smoothly was it blanketed. And most infuriating of all, above the absolute perfection that was the cake, were two small figures pressed far too close together on top of the highest tier.

     Smiling.

     Her lips curled into the beginning of a snarl, but then, Jhudora’s attention (and nerves) were once again wrenched away by—a ripping sound?—

     The faerie stood up and wheeled around, whacking Illusen in the face with her massive purple wings. Jhudora’s entrails became an icy lump as she watched several Neopets hack away at two banners.

     One happened to be the banner. The banner that was by now a much-too-faded purple velvet, the banner that had been present for Jhudora’s first official Day to herself, the banner that was carefully hidden in her most private quarters—

     And it now read “PPY DORA DAY.”

     There were voices. Cheerful. Laughing blobs of white noise that assailed her spirits yet more.

     It wasn’t until the Neopets lifted the banner, hastily sewn to the forest green banner of HA ILLU”, that Jhudora felt her blood turn from ice to magma.

     “HAPPY ILLUDORA DAY?” she read in a shriek, her wings nearly knocking over a few hapless revellers.

     The scene froze before her. Faerie and Neopet alike stared at her, not in fear or admiration, but utter bewilderment. Did she not like all the collaborative work to make their day a special one?

     Jhudora let out a roar that would make the most battle-hardened Ninja School student tremble. It wasn’t fair! The choice of venue, sharing a chair with her, arguing over quest rewards, the photograph that would be in the Neopian Times by next Friday (that nosy red Shoyru would see to that), the confetti that was still stuck in her hair, and now her beloved banner!

     Blinded by the sheer injustice of the calendar, she slammed down her fist—

     And felt a soft squish in her claws.

     Chest heaving, Jhudora didn’t think before hurling the squishy mess at the nearest target.

     Splat.

     Illusen’s jaw hung open as marbled cake and frosting clung to her like wet leaves.

     A collective gasp.

     Illusen stared down at herself, then back at Jhudora, the mask of decorum long discarded. With her own battle cry, and the might of a crashing oak, the earth faerie darted towards the cake, faced Jhudora, and thrust two fistfuls of the stuff at her in one smooth motion.

     “FOOD FIGHT!” cried a tiny Flotsam waving a (now hopelessly battered) sword, and that was all the crowd needed to storm the cake.

     Jhudora’s bluff devolved into absolute chaos.

     ***

     No one noticed at first that the bluff was bathed in orange.

     Illudora Day was officially over, and no one, not Neopet or faerie, felt like they could lift their arms. Everyone stood exhausted in a battleground of streaked icing and confetti.

     But as the first star materialized in the sky, so did a Uni (whose cannon had long since run out of confetti) take her leave. On her back was a tiny Flotsam with a cake-covered sword clutched in his fins.

     As more and more stars emerged, the Neopets gracelessly filed off the rocky bluff. The gaiety from before was still present in their icing-smeared forms, but it was more subdued.

     Illusen’s shoulders sagged with relief. The long day had ended at last. She slowly turned, gazing at her work now spattering the stones, the sparse trees, and Jhudora—Jhudora.

     The dark faerie’s hair looked as if a Kau had licked it from behind, and there it stuck. Confetti of all colours clung. Pale green icing, now a stark baby blue in the moonlight, was slathered across her wings and dress in a wild pattern. Marbled cake was smeared on her face like war paint.

     In short, she looked absolutely ridiculous.

     Illusen couldn’t help it—she had to smile, even as she watched the dark faerie bring a frosting-laden crumb to her lips.

     Jhudora’s eyes went wide. The dark faerie met the earth faerie’s eyes.

     Illusen’s smile faded.

     Jhudora swallowed.

     Neither spoke.

     Jhudora looked the earth faerie up and down. Purple splatters of icing and marbled cake were clashing horribly with her filthy tones of green. “You look so stupid,” she commented, far too weary to say much more.

     “Look in the mirror.” Illusen sniffed.

     Jhudora narrowed her eyes, but there was something about that lingering taste in her mouth. Curious, the dark faerie brought another piece of cake to her lips.

     And suddenly, she was back a score of years, celebrating her very first Jhudora Day with a homemade cake. Back when a time she hurled water balloons instead of insults, back when the rivalry was just an ember instead of the impassable bonfire it was now…

     Jhudora blinked. Illusen was still standing before her, watching her, looking as dumb as ever.

     “You make a good cake.”

     Illusen’s eyebrows rose, but fell again as she winced and rubbed her upper arm where a fragment of cake had struck.

     “You’ve got a good arm.”

     Jhudora was now free to go back inside, clean herself off, and forget the day ever existed before sending tomorrow’s questers to powerwash the entire bluff the next morning.

     Instead, words flew out of her lips before she could stop them.

     “Will you be able to travel to Meridell tonight? If not…” Jhudora trailed off, her brain finally catching up to her mouth. What in the world had she almost—

     “Better not.” Illusen looked down.

     “Oh.” A flicker. “Then get out of here.”

     Illusen rose into the air, her wings splattering Jhudora with yet more cake. “So, same time next year?” she called down.

     “Oh, get lost, Earthy!” Jhudora spluttered, wiping her mouth.

     “Whatever you say, Cakie!”

     And so they bickered long into the night.

     ***

     Scores of miles away, nearly halfway across Neopia itself, a hooded Kyrii stood before a Lenny. The Lenny absentmindedly stirred her hot cocoa. “News, you say? News that couldn’t travel by Crokabek?”

     Even at the insane hour, around the time Count Von Roo returns to his slumber, the Kyrii noticed that not a hair of the Lenny’s austere bun was out of place. He grinned and stroked his tiny beard. “Phase 1 of the plan went swimmingly.”

     “And this could not wait until morning because…?” the Lenny frowned, sipping her drink.

     “Because someone already got a jump on Phase 2 long before Phase 1 was completed.” The hooded Kyrii said this as casually as discussing the weather. "Have you checked the stories in the catacombs?"

     Likewise, the Duchess was cool in her response, not betraying a single bit of alarm the news should have inspired. “Those faeries must be so confused.”

     The Kyrii twirled his beard around one gloved finger. “Oh, I don’t know. They seem surer of themselves than they let on. And even more so…of each other.”