Short Sub Story: Vix and Kale

"So… uh," Kale began, scratching the back of his head with the charisma of a lost sheepdog. "Nice weather."

Vix stared at him with a look that could shuck corn. "It's raining, Kale."

"Oh. Right. It's just—y'know—nice rain."

The rogue sighed, adjusting her hood. The town's cobbled street glistened under the drizzle, the evening light catching on the wet stone like liquid gold. And Kale was, once again, determined to waste this opportunity by being the dumbest, densest, most well-meaning himbo she had ever been cursed to flirt with.

She had tried everything—subtle compliments, casual touches, outright threats. Nothing worked. The man could parry demon claws but not one hint of romantic subtext.

"I got you something," she said, flipping a small pouch from her belt. Inside, a charm she snatched from a merchant's stall—stylized like his sword, imbued with just enough luck magic to maybe keep him from getting himself exploded. Again.

"Whoa!" Kale beamed. "You made this?"

"…Sure. Let's go with that."

He took it like a kid handed a free puppy. "Thanks, Vix! I'll treasure it forever."

He slung it around his neck backwards and upside-down.

"…You're unbelievable," she muttered, ears visibly steaming beneath her hood.

Then—chaos.

A HONK pierced the street like a trumpet of impending idiocy.

A flash of white.

A blur of motion.

A flying goose rocketed past, feathered wings flapping like destiny itself was late for a comedy sketch.

Riding it: Poffin.

Wearing both a smug grin and a slightly tattered crown of leaves.

Grinning like a gremlin on a caffeine bender.

Behind him: Lyra in full chase mode, screaming about fashion and animal safety regulations.

And trailing that madness? A horde of barking dogs, howling cats, and what might have been a very committed ferret.

Vix barely had time to say "Oh no," before Poffin locked eyes with them mid-flight.

"WITNESS ME, MORTALS!" he shouted, which, of course, sounded like a series of dramatic squeaks to everyone but Ash.

The goose clipped a fruit stand.

Bananas launched into the air like artillery.

Vix ducked. Kale did not.

He slipped on a mango. She slipped on him.

There was a dramatic, cinematic pause as they hit the ground, tangled together.

Face to face.

Nose to nose.

Her hood had fallen back. His hand had somehow landed around her waist. One of her daggers was stuck in his boot. A banana was tragically smooshed between them.

Time stopped.

So did Kale's brain.

"...Hi," he said, voice cracking like a poorly tuned lute.

Vix blinked.

She could stab him.

She could kiss him.

She could do both.

Instead, she leaned closer, eyes narrowed.

"Say one word about the banana and I'm punching you into next week."

Kale gulped. "Yes ma'am."

Kale scrambled up first, offering his hand like a gallant knight who'd absolutely just body-slammed his rogue companion into the street. Vix took it with the grim dignity of someone pretending that the world hadn't just witnessed her banana-bellied shame.

They dusted themselves off in silence.

A dog wearing a tiara trotted by.

Neither spoke of it.

They began walking again, not quite side by side—more like two magnets still trying to figure out which direction is "attract" and which is "accidentally launched a fruit stand into orbit."

"So…" Kale ventured, his voice still recovering from emotional whiplash, "about earlier—"

"Nope," Vix said flatly, not even looking at him.

He nodded quickly. "Cool. Cool cool cool. No talky. Got it."

They walked on, rain pattering softly, silence stretching.

"…Thanks for the charm, though," he added after a moment. "I think it really might be lucky."

Vix didn't look at him, but the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"If it keeps your head attached, I'll consider it a return on investment."

A goose honked in the distance.

Neither of them turned to look.