Massa shifted a little, the firelight casting soft shadows on her face as she reached for the skewer still crackling over the fire. With practiced fingers, she tore off a steaming portion of the roasted meat. The smell made Hope's stomach rumble again, though he tried to play it cool. She turned toward him, the flicker of the flames reflecting in her eyes.
"Hopeless," she said, tilting her head slightly, "I think you've got some oil on your mouth."
Before Hope could respond — or check his reflection anyways there was no place he could reaychevk he's reflection — Massa leaned in. Her fingers moved with quiet confidence, and the cloth in her hand brushed against the corner of his mouth, wiping it gently. The touch was brief, but electric.
Hope stiffened, nearly choking on air. For someone who'd gone most of his life without affection — or even casual human contact — the act hit him like a stun grenade. Her fingers were warm. Precise. Gentle.
His body felt like it had frozen solid, like every nerve was holding its breath.
Crap... he thought. Get a grip. Act normal.
He forced a serious expression onto his face, but it was stiff — almost comically so. His eyes darted away awkwardly, and that's when he accidentally caught Nefer's gaze. She hadn't said a word, but the look on her face said everything. Amused. Knowing. Watching.
And smiling.
Crap, he muttered under his breath, she's reading my thoughts again...
Trying to distract himself from the rising heat in his face, Hope shoveled the rest of his meat into his mouth, chewing faster than necessary. The silence stretched a little after that, heavy with awkward energy and faint amusement, until Massa finally broke it.
"Why don't I show you one more trick?" she said casually, her voice cutting through the tension like a calm breeze.
Hope's eyes lit up like a kid at a fair. "Yeah—yeah, go on!"
Massa smiled. She bent slightly and picked up another small stone, this one flat and smooth, about the size of a thumb. She flicked it up into the air — a casual, effortless motion. Hope's eyes followed the arc of the stone as it spun once, then twice, before landing with a soft slap onto her palm.
When her hand opened again…
Two stones.
"Whaaaat?" Hope muttered, mouth half-open. "No way."
Massa smirked again, brushing her knuckles against her sleeve as if wiping off invisible dust. "It's simple," she said. "When I threw the stone up, you instinctively tracked it — your focus followed the movement. That was the misdirection."
Hope blinked, trying to piece it together.
"I already had another stone hidden in this hand." She held up the palm. "The throw distracted you — so when it landed and you saw two, your mind told you something impossible just happened. But the illusion wasn't in the throw... it was in your assumptions."
"Arrgh," Hope groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Can't believe I fell for that again."
He leaned back slightly, shaking his head as the fire cracked and spat tiny embers into the air. The moment hung there — a quiet rhythm of warmth and wonder.
Then Massa lifted both hands again, her fingers curling in that now-familiar way — slow, sharp, deliberate. Her movements had a kind of rhythm, like a practiced musician hitting invisible beats. The stones danced between her fingers, vanishing and reappearing in flashes of motion.
And then, just as her hands stilled…
She opened them.
Nothing.
Not a single stone in sight.
Even Nefer, who normally met most things with boredom or sarcasm, leaned forward slightly, clearly intrigued. The flames flickered across her curious eyes.
Hope inhaled sharply. He wasn't even sure he was breathing before that.
He was speechless.
Then, slowly, Massa leaned forward again — close, but not too close. Her arm moved gracefully toward Hope's shoulder. Her fingers pinched gently at the fabric of his cloak… and with a smooth, slow reveal…
She pulled out both stones from the fold near his collar.
Hope flinched. "No—what—no way!" he gasped. "You didn't—there's no way I didn't feel that!"
He looked genuinely shaken, like reality had betrayed him. The weight, the texture — he hadn't noticed anything. He would've sworn on a Veilshard he was clean.
Massa smiled, then sat back. This time, her voice took on the tone of a patient instructor.
"Let me explain," she said, "because this trick didn't begin with the throw. It didn't even begin with the double-stone reveal. It began when I leaned in earlier… to wipe your mouth."
Hope stared at her, trying to trace the thread.
"That was the real trick," she said. "The moment I leaned in close — when I touched your face — that was the first misdirection. Human touch is powerful. It overrides logic. It pulls your awareness inward. I knew you wouldn't be thinking clearly, especially not you, Hopeless. So I used that moment of vulnerability to place the stones in your cloak."
Hope's eyes widened. "You planted them... then?"
Yes," Massa said. "But if I revealed the trick immediately, you would've remembered. You would've traced it back to that moment. So I needed to cloud that memory. Bury it beneath layers of distraction."
She gestured to the earlier trick.
"So I performed the stone-throw illusion — not because it was impressive, but because it served a purpose. It pulled your mind forward, away from the moment I touched you. That trick didn't exist just to impress — it existed to erase. It gave your brain something new to focus on, something to process and analyze. While you were trying to figure that one out, your memory of the initial contact dulled — became background noise."
She looked at him, eyes glinting.
"By the time I revealed this final trick — the stones hidden on your collar — your mind had already accepted the throw as 'the trick.' You'd forgotten the moment I planted the real pieces. So this reveal? This final moment? It seemed impossible."
Hope just sat there.
Speechless again.
And maybe, for once, a little humbled.
Nefer let out a long, low whistle. "Alright, fine. I'm impressed."
Massa simply smiled, brushing her hair back.
Hope, finally finding his voice, muttered, "You're terrifying."
Massa laughed gently. "I'm just observant."
And for a moment, in the heart of that flickering firelight, surrounded by the ruined, mysterious realm of The Ashlands — the three of them felt something close to wonder.
A quiet space, where mystery could exist outside of monsters.
Where human hands could still create magic.