Misty sprinted after Prince Vlidel, stumbling a little over her feet as she went. Her legs were full of weight and a little too sloppy to keep up with the rest of her. She was always a little bit drunk after using the power behind her eyes.

Percy raced ahead of her, snapping his front paw and leaping back into another green robe that appeared out of thin air. In a distorted blur that lasted only a second, he was back to his full stature. The Prince also pulled out another matching coat from out of his invisible closet, occasionally looking behind him to see that Misty was still there, just 10 paces behind.

“What type of magic can do that!? To a whole room!? There is no magic to do that is there!? Have I lost my mind!?” Percy muttered to himself, screeching to a halt when he saw that Misty had somehow gotten in front of him. She was standing on a little bridge that reached over a few decorative rivers.

He was agape, terrified, silent, and the sound of the trickling river filled the awkward encounter.

“Percy Vlidel!” She sang, after that awkward moment of waiting for a “thank you for saving my life” that never came. “That’s your name, right? My, my, you run so loud, I could track you down from a mile away!”

He was not happy to hear this.

“Stop and leave me alone!” Percy Vlidel hissed, hopping over Misty and into a little artificial park that sat between the decorative rivers. There was a gritty feel of astro turf on her paws, and cute potted succulents in containers that gave the park a surreal oversaturated ambiance.

Misty managed to get front of him again, and he nearly tripped over his own feet. She was starting to enjoy this silly game they were playing, despite his anxiety about it.

“Don’t be scared of me! I saved your life, remember?” Misty insisted. “It’s OK!”

“You aren’t real.” He growled, covering his heterochromic eyes so she couldn’t control him with her glare. “That thing with your eyes. That’s not real!” His spotted tail twitched in agony, expecting her to attack.

“Listen, I’ve been chased around this maze of liminal spaces all day, and I just need you to calm down, talk to me, and explain some things.” She said. Percy peeked out from behind his hands. “Please?”

“Adnrolia Avu!” He shouted, and Misty was tossed directly into the decorative river while Percy darted into a nearby shop covered in frills and lace.

She shook off the water, making sure to kick out all four of her legs to get the stale, chlorinated scent off her. To be honest, he had done her a favor, after the Outskirts, she did stink a lot. Her smell was still nothing like her own, but at least it wasn't full of mold and dust anymore.

When Misty realized where Percy had gone, she was astounded by his choice of hiding place. It was the tackiest tea shop she had ever seen in her life. Possibly the place where all doilies go to die. A sweet piano soundtrack trickled out from under it’s frilly valances.

She nudged her way through the door and was hit by the strongest scent of potpourri her nose had ever been victim to. Misty preferred the Outskirts.

Percy shivered in the front foyer of the tea restaurant, waiting for a sweet brown cat to walk towards him. She was soft and warm, like the sweater she was wearing.

“Percy?” His friend asked, her voice high, soothing, and serene. It was a voice so sweet and polished that it had the air of being coached to be that way. “Percy what are you doing here?”

“It’s the only safe place in Avurn.” He told her, trying to not look at the shape of Misty standing in the entrance. The girl rubbed his shoulders until he stopped trembling.

“Why would you say that?” She wondered, her eggshell blue eyes were innocent and walleyed, so she tilted her head to look at him more with the right than the left.

“Because it has you, Chalene.” He said quietly, his voice full of passion. Chalene hid her smile behind her hand, and as she did, she looked down and met eyes with Misty, who was nearly the opposite of her in every single way.

“Who is your friend?” Chalene asked politely.

“Um. She’s not really there. I think I made her up. Can magic do that?” Percy asked.

Misty was so flabbergasted she couldn’t answer to that.

“No.” Chalene answered. “I don’t think it does, but you have a lot of it, so maybe? Aw. You’re shaking. Come, I’ll order some tea.” She lead Percy by the arm through a coral beaded curtain and into the main seating area. The tinkle of the beads was followed by the comforting chime of spoons stirring china glasses and ornate plates being placed among tables.

“I’m real by the way. I’m Misty.” Misty told her, hopping at their heels. Chalene directed Percy towards a booth that was in a dark and cozy corner. A single hanging lamp illuminated their table, soft shadows from the lace along it’s fabric cover graced their seats like the pattern of leaves falling through trees.

“You are such a lovely person, Misty!” Chalene smiled, leaning over to touch Misty’s cheeks like a grandmother meeting a new baby.

“No, I’m not lovely-”

“Such intriguing eyes!” Chalene continued, leaving Misty uncertain if Chalene was serious or was actually making fun of her. Chalene’s long paws were so warm, and so was her smile. She couldn’t be real. “Such an unusual personality, you have artistic quirks, don’t you? I love to meet artists!”

“Mrrow fft, you think I do art?” Misty sniffed.

“Oh!” Chalene gasped, her hand to her heart, “I understand you’re new here and so you’re VERY cultured, complicated and multilayered, but please do not swear. It’s really not becoming for such a bright, young, elegant lady as yourself.”

Misty was utterly baffled at any of these descriptors aimed at herself.

“Please, sit over here, they save this table for me.” Chalene insisted, shuffling into the soft padded booth around the circle table.

The amount of doilies and lace had skyrocketed at this particular side of the restaurant, and thankfully, it was so full of stuff, that it was easy to hide yourself in the knick-knacks. Perhaps that was why Chalene liked the place, but it was more likely because Chalene really liked lace.

“I think she must be my psyche.” Said Percy, opening a menu and starting to relax into the yellow padding of the booth’s seat. The creamy fabric had been stitched with floral vines and flying doves.

“You talking about me?” Misty asked.

“Like an Id, or an Egg. Or a Super-Egg.” Percy mused, scratching his chin.

“You’ve been studying too much!” Chalene sighed, “I don’t want to frighten you in your fragile state my love, but you might want to re-read the part on Freud.”

“Can I order eggs or are you still Aviatarian?” Percy asked her.

“Of course I am! I’m supporting Flinshkie!” Chalene answered, tapping her fingers.

“Well, Flinshkie wasn’t doing his job today. Waiter?” The waiter walked over to take their order, and Percy motioned down at the menu only saying the word: “Eggs!”

They ordered for Misty because she didn’t really know the concept of a menu or how to read. She was ready to eat anything that came out of that kitchen, although from the sound of it, she was eating about one fancy bite of food rather than a full meal.

“I heard you mention Miranda back there, Percy. Do you mean Miranda Hanshicock? I’ve seen her before but she didn’t seem…” Misty trialed off, “Those terrorists said she was like a Queen or something?”

“Oh!” Chalene whispered in a hiss. “No no! There’s no Queen! Don’t say such unlucky things!”

“So Percy isn’t a prince?” Misty pointed at Percy, who’s nose flushed red.

“That’s just gossip, really” He insisted, “and also I guess...bloodlines…”

“Oh hell...” Whispered the man who sat all alone on a table right next to them that was hidden by a billowing curtain.

He was a gray cat with stripes around his eyes and an asymmetric turquoise and brown cape around his shoulder. The man intentionally chose to sit behind a velvet curtain with golden fringe and about 10 little cupid angels that were pinned to the fabric so he could stay out of the spotlight.

And now...he was sitting next to a bunch of gentry. Not just any gentry, but the 2^nd and 5^th in the Kingdom.

He was doing his best not to hear the conversation behind him, but the next line made him stop cutting his steak in surprise.

“Oh Misty, you don’t know, do you? You seem quite perplexed.”

“Misty!?” He thought to himself, cutting his steak so quietly so they would not hear him or regard him.

It could not be the same Misty. This was the last type of place she would ever enter, he made sure of that himself when he chose to hide in it. It had to be only his imagination.

“Well,” Chalene sighed “It’s quite upsetting to talk about, so we won’t dwell on it. Would you like some pepper tea? It’s very soothing. It helps you lose weight, too! Makes your fur silky and shiny!”

Misty lapped it out of her cup and Chalene stopped her.

“Oh my! You are funny! Very artistic. I’m afraid you must try and use your thumbs!”

“Never!” Misty hissed. “<If the gods of the dry meal saw us they’d>”

Misty stopped herself and coughed into her paw. Brinkley, who was the gray cat sitting only one curtain away from them tried to sink further into the shadows of the fabric’s fringe.

This was indeed the same Misty. This was the same Misty that thought he was dead.

“Sorry.” Misty said. “English isn’t really my first language. I uh...thumbs are bad, everyone knows that. They’re really, really bad. Aren’t they?”

Brinkley looked down at his apposable thumbs, a growing fear boiling in his stomach.

He had done this. He had brought her here. He had freed her from himself. This was how it was all supposed to be, planned out years and years ago.

But if it was the right thing to do, why did he feel so terrible about it?