Academy Days: Outcasts – 5 [❤️]
"You.”
Your heart leaps up your throat. The harpy girl blocks the hallway and you pray to every Empyrean you know that they would rescue your soul from the young woman before you. You tried to avoid her, to keep your head down and rush through the building as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, another feud between students erupted in the building and several hallways were blocked by a translucent purple jelly.
When you noticed her gaze entirely focused on you during class, you knew nothing good would come of it.
Wednesday is not the type of person anybody wants to mess with. She moves like a shadow, appearing out of nowhere before class starts and disappearing back into nowhere when it ends. The few who were unlucky enough to cross her found themselves suffering misfortune after misfortune. Missing magical foci, doors slamming open in their faces, embarrassing secrets exposed...Her scathing glare is enough to get anybody to shut up, and her gleaming talons do more talking than she does.
Unless it’s time to present work in class. Why, oh why did you have to end up in the same art theory class as her? Her paintings are horrifyingly grotesque, her sculptures vibrantly violent, and her poetry is as somber as a mass grave, and twice as gruesome.
Who rhymes ‘ever-hoped clandestine’ with ‘jump-roped intestine’, anyways?
You are Tatt, and you’ve made peace with your relatively short life.
“Hello, Wednesday.” You may stand taller than her, but you can’t help but shrink under her gaze. “If it’s about my critique on Cemetery of Woe, I’m sorry, I’ll change my—”
“If you think your puerile commentary offended me, save your breath.” She steps closer, your body freezes in place. “I approached you because you fit my criteria.”
Criteria? Either she intends to sacrifice you, or…
“Please tell me this isn’t a terrifying harpy courting ritual.”
Wednesday recoils, the slight purse of her lips and furrowing of her brows disproportionally pungent in expressing how distasteful she finds the idea. Her talons tap against the floor and a terrible chill fills you.
“Make that joke again, and I will ruin you before you have a chance to find a girlfriend.” She closes her eyes and the chill slowly leaves you. “No, you fill a set of criteria that would be conducive to helping an…ally of mine.”
Oh sweet stars, she is going to sacrifice you! What dark force will this mad harpy spill your life essence to satisfy?
You want to leave, but she waves a wing and clips out a command.
“Follow.”
Your traitorous legs acquiesce, and you look back on all the decisions you made that led you here. You never thought the capital would be so dangerous; fledgling mages dueling in the halls, that whole mess with a dwarven arms dealers, rumors about people going missing…
“You qualified for Camelot University because of your experience as a hedge wizard.” Wednesday doesn’t look at you as she talks. “Your style of magic has left you isolated among our peers. And your malicious-looking beard makes you even more of an outsider.”
Every sentence is like a knife in the chest. It’s true, people tend to avoid you. They think your magic is creepy, even if it’s just a specialized way of casting. Wands and staffs can be expensive! So what if you move the ink in your skin around to form tattoo spellforms? It’s a perfectly legitimate shortcut by using your body as a canvas.
As for your beard…You have a bit of a long chin. Not a thick, manly chin like that Chad-ish guy from the Attraction Dragon frat. But long and jutting in a way that catches your shirts every time you get dressed. You thought people would stop staring if you stored some extra ink there, but all it does is make you look like some scheming vizir. At least it’s faster to have the ink there for perception enhancement spells.
It seems your stubbornness has finally brought you to your end.
Your solitude has made you the perfect target. Nobody will miss you. Nobody will care. Sun and stars, you’re going to die because you were too uppity to learn to cast magic like everyone else!
Wednesday leads you to one of Camelot’s more isolated parks. This is it. You’re going to be drawn and quartered, exsanguinated, burned, crucified, and fed to the vermin in service of whatever dark entity Wednesday desires.
You, Tatthew Inkbert Darkherald, are about to be ushered from your mortal coil.
You take what may be your last breath as Wednesday pushes aside the branches and—
You blink. Instead of a terrifying clearing thick with the scent of blood, you find a small group of people sitting around. Having a picnic.
A plump redhead with dog ears, nearly unhinging her jaw to eat a ridiculously large hoagie. A willowy harpy sitting by her side, daintily eating cherry tomatoes. The pair are all smiles, as pastel and bright as can be. A bit further from them is a dwarf woman dressed in leathers and furs, her auburn hair braided with bones. Waiting patiently on the other side is a centaur, shuffling nervously in her mismatched, rusty armor.
You’ve never seen such a collection of weirdos.
“Oh, Wednesday!” The other harpy stands, her gentle smile washing away the last vestiges of the fear that once gripped you. “You found someone! A man? That’s…surprising.”
“Why?” Wednesday’s tone is curt, but different somehow. “You asked to find someone brave, who wouldn’t be afraid of unconventional magic. Tatt fulfills the criteria.”
That’s what she was looking for?!
“I dunno…” The plump girl bounces to her feet and cocks her head. “I guess we just thought you’d bring a girl? Not a guy with a very evil-looking beard.”
Is your chin really that bad?
As it turns out, Wednesday did not bring you here to get sacrificed. What a relief! Of course, you do without the comments on how your comforted smile looks like you’re planning on summoning an army of the damned…on the bright side, you’ve found some interesting folks.
The centaur, Spiritsteel, collects armor with strong spiritual echoes. She says it’s because she wants to honor the memory of centaurs who’ve lost their lives in battles across history, though there were apparently some unfortunate side effects to wearing so many spiritually pungent pieces of armor. Tripping, failed potions, wardrobe malfunctions, and enchantments malfunctioning around her were just some of the deleterious events plaguing Spiritsteel. You knew spirits were a thing, academically at least, but you never realized they could be so detrimental.
It turns out, not all horseshoes are lucky.
Fracti, the strawberry-blonde harpy, thankfully managed to quell the detrimental effects without exorcizing the spirits. Spiritsteel claims that it’s resulted in her armor bestowing helpful properties upon her.
The dwarf, Flay, is more of a business partner of the dog-girl, Cherry. Who is apparently a kobold incredibly skilled in biomancy. Flay is one of those dwarves that prides herself in working with unconventional materials. For a dwarf, that means anything that doesn’t come from the earth…so, animal hides. And since Cherry hunts for meat so frequently, she found Flay and offered to give her anything she didn’t eat.
Flay was surprised to find that Cherry could also produce stronger hides from within her own body. Which may explain the vibrant colors of some of her furs.
As for why they gathered you all here?
“Miss Ality is getting even meaner with Fracti!” Cherry pouts. “Even when she does everything she’s supposed to, Beastie gets all up in her business!”
“I had one of her classes last year.” Flay chews her lip. “Every now and then, she picks a student to humiliate, as an example to the rest of the class. Word is that’s how she trains her beasts. If she’s got Fracti in her sights, not much you can do about it. Even going to the Dean won’t do much, him being busy as he is.”
“Unless she confronts her.” Wednesday says. “Once Fracti holds her ground, the illusion of power Ality holds will crumble. But Fracti is too pathetic to do that.”
Fracti shrinks, hiding behind her hair.
“I, um, tried a ritual of bravery with just the three of us…” Fracti is quiet, her wing-fingers tapping together nervously. “But we weren’t enough to appease the spirits…”
“Yuppers!” Cherry barks, swooping the two harpies into her arms. “Which is why we need your help! It’s like, if we all team up, we can form a pack devoted to helping each other in classes with our weird magic. A study pack!”
Fracti leans into the chubby kobold’s hug, rubbing her cheek against the giggling pinkette’s. Wednesday, however, looks like a cat that’s been forced into cuddling. Smushed against Cherry’s face, she doesn’t look nearly as scary as before.
“Study group.” Wednesday clarifies.
You…aren’t against it. It would be helpful to have a group of people with whom you could improve your abilities. Not to mention help for the classes you struggle with.
“A group devoted to esoteric rituals, unsanctioned magic, and consorting with spirits?” Spiritsteel almost rubs her chin, but spots you and stops herself. “It almost sounds like a coven.”
Everyone looks at each other pointedly.
Before the age of modern magic, groups of hedge wizards gathered in covens. While dark wizards either worked alone or through alliances of convenience to consolidate power, these covens were a community with shared goals and philosophies. They were formed from people who disagreed with conventional magic or governance, often women displeased with the strict roles brought on by the period's even gender distribution. Sometimes, errant knights or even entire knight orders would accuse them of evil magics and come to blows with them.
Looking back through a modern lens, historians recognize their forms of magic as yet-undiscovered schools. It was only through the propaganda of organizations like the Holy Knights and Arcanoknights that these hedge wizards were labelled ‘witches’ to be hunted down and exterminated.
“It’s a good thing you’re here, Tatt.” Flay elbows you in the hip. “Even if your beard looks super evil.”
“…it’s not a beard, it’s my chin.” You grumble.
You cast to shift the ink in your skin away from your chin, and their eyes widen.
“Wowie!” Cherry claps her hands. “Wednesday made a great choice! You’d have to be really brave to show us that!”
What does she mean by that?!
Tatt is a big help when it comes to organizing the ritual lines. His experience making sigils on his skin proves to be effective, and you’re so very thankful to Wednesday for finding him.
You are Fracti, and for some reason, you felt a bit…off-balance when Wednesday brought a man along. Not there’s anything wrong with that! You just…hoped…maybe…eventually…the others would bare themselves, unbothered and unrestrained. You're sure you could convince them to accept casual nudity, maybe help get Wednesday comfortable with the subject.
You don’t see that happening with a man; there’d be implications.
Ah.
For some reason, your heart flutters. The barest hint of the sensation returns, disappearing as quickly as it came.
“What next?” Wednesday breaks you from your trance.
The ritual circles have been drawn and everyone looks to you for guidance. You smile and wrap Wednesday in a hug, pulling her close so that your chest smushes against hers. She stiffens, opening her mouth to say something, but your wings trace on her legs where skin meets scales. A silent breath escapes her parted lips and you hum contently.
“Thank you for helping, Wednesday.”
You never could have gone so far without her. The spirits, those that flock to her when you touch her, are of the more vague sort that you never could commune with before. These esoteric spirits were beyond your reach until recently, and you’ve been able to do so much more. And now, you’re going to borrow the spirits of bravery so you can confront Miss Ality and gain her respect.
“Whatever.” She grumbles, fussing under the others’ gazes.
Cherry gives you a knowing look, a wolfish grin plastered on her face. You know you shouldn’t be teasing your friend like this…but you can’t help it! The spirits around her undulate with her happiness, and you just love making your friends feel good.
You pull a thermos out of your knapsack and pass out cups, then directing them in their respective circles. You pause on Wednesday, and she raises an eyebrow inquisitively. Dealing with Wednesday is almost like dealing with a particularly furtive spirit. In many ways, she’s more spiritually aligned than you are! How still escapes you.
You didn’t want to tell her this when the ritual failed last time, because she was so invested in the mechanics behind it. Instead of allowing your worries to fester, you pass her a cup and move her into place.
“Before we start, I need you to drink this.” You hold up the canteen and begin pouring into their cups. “Normally, it’d be diluted in a sweet drink, like punch, because it tastes bad…it’s supposed to elevate your state of consciousness so that the spirits are more potent.”
“Uh…what’s in it?” Tatt stares into his cup.
“Some herbs and mushrooms, mostly.” You pour yourself the rest of the canteen. “Cherry, you’ll have to let it affect you, at least a little.”
“Yuppers!”
She stares pointedly at your bigger portion, and you pat her on the head, right between her ears. She giggles and follows your lead as you drink, hard and fast. You’re more acclimated to it; the druids have had you drinking this since you were a teen.
Seeing you drink a much larger dose, the others tentatively sip. You wince at their pinched expressions. At least Wednesday and Cherry took your advice and chugged it quickly. The last three choke down the rest of the mixture.
“You weren’t lying when you said it tasted bad.” Flay smacks her lips. “Are you sure we couldn’t have this with fruit juice? Maybe in a punch bowl—”
“No!” They jump at your exclamation. You take a long, calming breath. “It’s best…not to leave it out. Mistakes can happen…”
A grand gathering, a celebration, an unattended bowl, and bodies…so many bodies. A community lost. Unity, shattered. You shake your head, dislodging unhappy memories.
“Let’s get started.”
You stand in the center of the circle and begin channeling the spirits. The park becomes deathly silent, a slight tremble in the magical weave the only sign that the ritual is starting. A subtle movement shudders through the earth beneath your talons, and the psilocybin begins to kick in. Lesser spirits of panic and fear threaten to converge, but you guide them away, protecting your friends as their pupils dilate and their minds ascend.
“OoOooOooh! Funky!” Cherry giggles, her skin rippling in odd patterns.
“Why…why is the grass singing?” Spiritsteel whispers.
Wednesday stares at her wing-hands, her eyebrows raising higher and higher.
“This should not…I thought...” Her voice tinged in confusion, you send your comforting presence her way, calming her down. “So certain psychedelics have an effect…fascinating.”
They indulge in their state of enhanced consciousness and you coax the spirits to organize, bidding them to whirl around the ritual circle until you can pick out the ones you need. Resolve, fearlessness, bravery, confidence, willfulness…one by one, they peel from the outskirts of the ritual circle to congregate on you. You close your eyes, trusting the mushrooms to guide you, to guide them, and clap your wings together.
You feel…assured.
Flay, Tatt, and Spiritsteel sit in their circles, marveling at the trees and the clouds. Wednesday stares at the ground, blinking repeatedly. And Cherry’s body twists and contorts, a mobius strip of flesh and blood standing on two legs, completely constrained to her clothes.
A horrifying sight, but you aren’t even disgusted, only observing your friend exploring the fractal patterns of her own body. It’s time you test how brave you are. You have to go somewhere you’d normally feel terrified of, someplace dark, and empty, and claustrophobic.
The catacombs.
Perfect. You’re about to take wing when you feel someone grab your shoulder.
“Wednesday?”
She’s shifted her wings into arms, yet her eyes are unfocused and distant.
“I am incredibly high right now.” Her thumb gently rubs your collarbone, and before you have a chance to explore the rush you feel, she continues in a confused tone. “And I appear to have lost my wings.”
You giggle as she runs her hands up your neck to rest on your cheek. Her passive eyes glint with a hint of want. The brief image of a wide smile you don’t remember her having flashes in your mind.
“You’ll need a spirit guide.” You lean into her hand. “Follow me. I’ll help you find your wings.”
“Can you help me too?” Cherry whines. “My butt is backwards.”
True to her word, Cherry’s hips are facing the wrong direction. She appears to have reconstituted herself almost properly and sadly paws at her bouncing behind as she struggles to understand what went wrong. Her tail wags confusedly in her own face.
After you help reorient Cherry, you request some spirits to protect your new friends while Cherry and Wednesday follow you to the catacombs. The sun is starting to set when you find yourself at the entrance, the oppressive dark yawns before you like the maw of a great beast. A great many spirits must reside below, spirits old enough to remember the times of Arthur and his knights. Spirits, whispery echoes of knights long gone, of royalty from another world…
Any fear you once felt glides right off you. You smile and go inside.
As you walk deeper into the dark, a hand gently curls around your wing-hand and you pause. The thumb runs in lazy circles on your wing-palm, finding the most sensitive spots between your scales. You may not be able to see, but you can sense the spirits congregating around Wednesday excitedly.
“Wednesday.”
“You can’t see in the dark. I’m not holding your hand.” Wednesday asserts, though her breath lingers inches away from your shoulder.
“Well I can, and I am!” Cherry chirps, her hand snapping over to hold yours. “Oh right, harpies can’t see in the dark!”
There’s a click and Cherry’s body glows a soft pink. She pushes her tongue back into her mouth and beams.
Bones surround you. Human bones, dwarven bones, elven bones, centaur bones, all arranged in stacks along the walls. A hundred empty eye sockets stare at you, lingering traces of death spirits emanating within. Fractals dance and melt together, the remains of so many dead twisting in an unnatural symphony in your vision.
“Ta-da! Bioluminescence!”
You return Cherry’s smile. There is no fear.
Only confidence. Assurance. A slight…pull from deeper within.
You follow it on a whim while Wednesday looks at your held hand in confusion. As you go down winding passageways, Cherry experiments with different colors and Wednesday cocks her head at the shadows dancing on the bones.
“Kobolds can glow in the dark?” Wednesday asks.
“Nope! I borrowed this trick from some fishies up north!” Cherry’s lights flare and change colors like a disco ball. “PsychaDELIC, right?!”
Normally, you’d laugh at their antics. Watching your two best friends brings you so much joy. Yet the pull lingers on the edge of your senses. A call, a beacon, a familiar song…promising unity.
“Can you replicate anything?” Wednesday asks. “Wings? Horns?”
“Yup, yup! Though I can’t fly…” Cherry pouts. “I’m too dense for that.”
“If you wanted to, you could grow extra limbs.”
“Yuppers!”
“Tentacles.”
“Yupperoonie!”
“Any set of reproductive organs you want.”
“Suuuper weird question, but yeah, yup!”
The pull grows stronger. Something is getting closer. You try to walk towards it, but your friends hold onto your hands, their conversation planting them on the spot. You don’t want to let go…
“Show me.”
“Mmmm…’kay!”
Your stare is transfixed on the shadows of the catacombs, feeling the tug on your very soul. You stare past a moment that would have filled you with glee, into the encroaching darkness. Wednesday crouches in front of you, still holding your wing, as Cherry effortlessly pulls down her tight jeans to show off her bushy crotch. You could be watching them celebrate the uniqueness of their bodies, watching them admire one another as only the closest friends could.
But you’re not.
A length of pink flesh spirals from between Cherry’s legs and Wednesday observes with clinical fascination.
“Boar.”
“Very curly, quite springy.”
The penis straightens and splits into five, opening up like a flower in the dark-haired harpy’s face.
“Tundra echidna.”
“You can never have too many.”
The penises reconverge, melting together into a sharp point. Wednesday teases the tip with a finger and flinches.
“Glacial Splatworm.”
“Brings a whole new meaning to ‘sword fighting.’”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
It’s getting closer. Your heart hammers in your chest, beating to the rhythm set by another. You try to walk between your friends, but something long and prehensile bursts from Cherry’s loins. It curls around Wednesday’s neck and cuddles her expressionless face.
“Dolphin! This one was hard to get a hold of.”
“Impressive…what would yours look like? A kobold’s, I mean.”
Cherry shuffles nervously for a moment, clenching at the hem of her shirt with her free hand before her penis contorts on itself, shortening and thickening into a throbbing red implement. Wednesday’s eyes widen as they trail from the knot all the way to the tip. She gently brings her hand under it, feeling the heft as Cherry lets out a soft gasp. Her little finger subtly rubs small circles atop the thickest point of her knot.
“It’s beautiful.” Her uncharacteristic words almost pull you out of your trance. “Is it connected to your reproductive system? Or...urinary tract?”
“Nope!”
“Too bad.” She sighs.
“Huh? Why?”
Wednesday blinks a few times and licks her lips. She breaks away to look at Cherry, but her hand is still holding her member.
“…I’ve heard it’s more efficient.”
“Huh. I guess it is. It’s only connected to my nervous and circulatory systems but—”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Your friends’ conversation fades into a buzz; your mind pulls ever deeper into the darkness. Whispers flick at the edge of your consciousness, an orchestra of voices in perfect harmony. Join us. Join us. Join us, in unity.
You step between your friends.
“Fracti?” Someone on the edge of your awareness pulls at your wing.
Something on your left grips your hand tighter. Something on your right growls.
Someone steps out of the darkness. She’s a friend, though you don’t know her face, or her name, or even who she is…you only know that you can join her. You let go of whatever you were holding, her perfect smile widens as you step closer—
“Fracti!”
Something pulls you back. You struggle, attempting to reach the friend, the ally, the union. Something on your other side picks you up, and your friend frowns. She lets out a hiss, but there are no spirits of rage or hatred, no spirits at all…
There are no spirits in the catacombs.
Only the path to unity.
Your friend flings her hand and an acerbic jolt of green energy lances through whatever is carrying you. Someone screams, a shadow pierces from the darkness to stab your friend in the back and through her chest.
She hisses, neon green fluid bubbling from her chest, and several more spears of darkness pierce her limbs. She struggles, the shadows dissipating into whisps with a tug of her arms.
Something forces your face away from your friend, and you find yourself staring into pools of pure darkness. A white ring ripples from the center and her desperate words shatter through your spirit.
“Snap out of it!”
You gasp as the creature’s hold on you breaks, a cacophony of voices crying out in rage.
The thing that looks like a woman lets loose an unearthly screech, her form flickering between woman and something else. You catch glimpses of a black carapace and hungry green energy before Cherry rushes at it with a snarl, the sizzling hole in her abdomen not even slowing her down. She picks up the creature and slams it into the ground, the bones in the walls clattering from the force of the blow. As Cherry’s stomach knits itself back together and muscles upon muscles swell across her body, the creature’s limbs bend backwards to lift itself up. Wednesday expertly casts a bolt of lightning in the gap between Cherry’s legs to keep it down, it convulses for a moment
…but easily recovers.
Cherry finishes transforming into her true form, the ferocious kobold howling as she rends her claws through the creature. The neon green fluid sprays on her, sizzling through her shirt and furry hide with a yelp of pain. Cherry’s flesh returns to a pristine state in seconds and hones her angry gaze towards it. The creature, grievously injured, breaks away from Cherry and tries to flee, only for Wednesday to hurl a wind spell and slam it against the ceiling.
“You…MEANIE!”
Cherry snarls, bringing down a fist enveloped thick chitin on the creature’s head and shattering its skull in a spray of gore.
The illusion on the creature fades, its body sizzling and falling apart before you could get a proper look at…whatever it was. The voices dissipate and you realize you’ve been clenching your head throughout the fight, your claws drawing blood from your scalp. Cherry and Wednesday rush to your side, the former quickly shifting back into her plump shape and wrapping you in a big hug, the latter looking over you for injuries.
“What…was that?” You manage to ask, the fear slowly trickling back into you.
“No clue.” Wednesday purses her lips, her gaze drifting to the fizzling remains, its acidic blood removing the last traces of its existence. “It lacked the hallmarks of a regular sapient. Was it using hypnosis?”
“No.” You shudder. “Something else…something deeper, related to the soul.”
Your words linger in the air like a curse.
“Good thing the adrenalin got the shrooms out of our system.” Cherry squeezes you tighter, her soft curves enveloping you in a comforting blanket. “What if you ended up here alone? Moon and stars, what would have happened?”
You know what would have happened. You would have been lost. Not dead, worse.
You shudder and nestle deeper into Cherry’s still-glowing chest.
“We would have gone to get you.” Wednesday asserts.
Warmth blooms inside you.
Your gaze dances between Cherry, the kobold bringing you light, and Wednesday, the harpy for whom the darkness bows. You were promised unity, something you’ve desperately looked for since you lost the druids.
You already have it.
They are your light and your dark, your push and your pull, your terrible truth and your comforting lie…
You may be able to more easily commune with bravery spirits after the ritual, but you won’t need them anymore with Wednesday and Cherry at your side. The two of them complete you.
“Wednesday?”
The harpy stands guard, even as Cherry gently rocks with you in her embrace. Dark eyes with white sclera meet yours and she wordlessly extends her hand for you to hold. Her grip is looser than before, but the memory of her thumb teasing your sensitive spots lingers… and something else that you didn’t quite see.
“What were you two doing when that thing came at us?”
Wednesday freezes. Cherry cocks her head, Unwilling to let you go, she extends a leg to pull her crumpled jeans back to her.
“Wowie, it’s a good thing it found us while my pants were down!” Cherry’s giggles bounce her breasts around your face. “Otherwise, they’d be just as destroyed as my shirt!”
Wednesday pointedly keeps looking away from the nude kobold cuddling you. Is that…a slight blush at the tip of her ears?
“No more shrooms.” She says with finality.
The next day, you confront Miss Ality in her office. Wednesday and Cherry wait behind the door while you calmly lay out your complaints with your teacher. You talk about how she’s being unfair, and that your reports may not be to her taste, they’re still accurate.
She doesn’t take it well.
But after the confrontation with the thing, you find that you can easily weather Miss Ality’s slew of insults and sarcastic comments. So there you stand, serene expression on your face as Beastie Ality snaps her riding crop on her desk repeatedly.
“—all my time in this college, never, and I mean never, have I had the displeasure of teaching someone so stubbornly naïve when it comes to dealing with monsters! I was insulted enough when you tried to convince me that manticores enjoy belly rubs, and you have the utter gall to say that you know more than me?!” She snaps the riding crop on her desk.
You don’t flinch, staring at her coolly as she catches her breath.
“Your abilities are limited. Not mine.”
Ality’s face turns several shades darker. She raises the riding crop, almost as if to strike you, but puts it back down.
“I’m going to fail you.”
You know what?
“That’s okay. I don’t care about your opinion anymore.”
“OUT!” Beastie Ality screams. “OUT, OUT! NOW!”
She rabidly slaps her desk, waving her riding crop around like a wand. You smile and leave, satisfied. You never needed to be brave. All you needed was what you learned from Cherry and Wednesday: the art of not giving a frick.