Gamer stepped into a witch's hut. Dried herbs, dreamcatchers, wind chimes, and other bobbles hung from the ceiling at almost every point. A haze lingered; a combination of burning incense on a central round dining table and obvious drug fumes. Plates and bowls covered the table with an assortment of prepared dishes. Chests, cabinets, and drawers lined the walls and were jam packed with jarred consumables, funky liquids, and clothes. An altar framed an archway into what looked like a closet that was renovated to be a sleeping cubby. The candles that surrounded the altar showed signs of frequent use. They burned now, and provided the altar dim light. It spooked Gamer a bit, but once his eyes adjusted to the hut, he noticed a pair of human legs draped over the bed's edge. The upper half of the person was completely shrouded in darkness due to the surrounding dim light and angle.
"She's ready for you," the shrooman said. He walked out from under the table and left. When the door closed, Gamer faced the sound of movement from the cubby. Princess Persica unveiled herself.
Persica's aesthetics reminded Gamer of a hippie, or a trustafarian. Lots of skin showing, with an open pink skirt that cut at the sexiest angle. Her pink blouson ran up high on her belly, and hung open and loose. There was no sign of an undergarment. Thin cloth dangled from her shoulders and waist, and wrapped her bare feet. She must have had four different necklaces on, and a myriad of bracelets, trinkets, and gold adorned her wrists and forearms. Her blonde hair was voluminous, with a fountain of dreads in the back and side. Her green eyes were large and baring, and her lips slightly puckered. The princess exuded a mystic allure.
Gamer, in his basic ass drip, raised a hand in greeting, "Yo."
Persica spoke with a soft tone, "You must be the one who helped my shroomans. Before we speak on anything, first allow me to thank you."
Persica crossed one leg behind the other and cordially bowed. Gamer waved it away, "It's no problem. Glad I can help. I don't mind getting my hands dirty to achieve my goals."
Persica pulled out a chair at the table to have a seat, "Then I believe we will compliment one another well. Please, rest your legs, wandering soul. Would you like something to eat or drink?"
Gamer examined the plates and bowls on the table. Mushroom soup, mushroom steak, mushroom sticks, fried mushrooms, mushroom salad, and pudding. The drink of choice, in a clay pitcher, looked like wine. He sat and said, "Thanks, but I have to be careful what I eat. My body might change, like Marco's."
"Like mine, too," the princess nodded. She poured wine into her cup, "I assure you, the nutrients here will not morph you."
"You can also use red caps?"
"And many others. I tend to collect such items, and use them only as a means for defense. Though, I do not understand why those like us are the only ones changed. Not even Lord Shellie transforms from such substances," Persica served Gamer a plate of the mushroom charcuterie board.
A suspicion rose up in Gamer, "I definitely expected some kind of mushroom person when I heard about you."
"The shroomans are my adopted people. They are my family, regardless of my physical form," Persica smiled towards the door.
Gamer picked up a wooden fork and stirred his plate, "Well, glad I could save your family. You've got some scary enemies."
"Yes, and quite formidable. The shrooman with you told me about your encounter with Marco, as well as your goals. I had thought only Lord Shellie could match Marco's tenacity."
"Hopefully that tells you how serious I am about protecting you and the land."
"To what end?"
"I need something that's a part of my culture. The more allies, resources, and successes I have, the better chances I got. Simple politics, really."
"You seek to discover the balance between empathy and selfishness," Persica spoke mystically. She reached behind a bowl to a tray unseen to Gamer. She picked up what looked like a joint, already lit, and slipped it between her lips. She inhaled, and basked in her burning lungs, before breathing it out.
"So what do you say we team up? You show me how you access the stars, and I take out Marco and Lord Shellie," Gamer proposed the deal.
Persica contemplated while fiddling with the joint in her fingers. She took another huff, and spoke while exhaling, "Is it possible we can find a peaceful resolution with them?"
"That's an odd request, considering everything they've done to your people..." Gamer smelled something fishy. Perhaps it was the mushroom and fish skewers.
Persica sighed, "We have...a history. I'd rather them not be harmed."
"History?" the smell of fish became a whole damn aquarium.
"I...have feelings for both men."
Gamer groaned with his eyes, "You've got to be double fisting me."
"I assure you I speak the truth," Persica used a finger to roll one of the fried portobellos around on its plate. "It began when Lord Shellie kidnapped me, long ago, for the first time. My father eventually negotiated my release, but I'd spoken to and grown attached to Lord Shellie. He is a greatly misunderstood soul."
"Here we go..." Gamer shrugged with his mouth. She was a Stockholm Syndrome girl.
"Lord Shellie's goal is to be king and rule over all. He's imposing, charismatic, scary, strong; everything I'm not. He values my body and skills, and can even tell a good joke. Though our energies don't align, I must admit, I admire him and his affection," Persica blushed while speaking of this lord.
"What about Marco? I can't imagine you getting along with a psychopathic murderer."
"That one is more complicated. Marco rescued me once from Lord Shellie. Each time thereafter, it became a battle between the two of them, with me as the prize. Both made me feel valuable - more than any amount of coin could. Then, one day I decided to reward Marco, after Lord Shellie put him through a grueling course."
"A league of legendary enemies?" Gamer guessed.
"Go kart racing."
"Yikes..."
"I invited Marco to my now demolished castle. I baked him a cake and grew to understand his ways. Like you, he mentioned a different world, and how he would keep me from Lord Shellie. He seemed genuine...until he ate the cake I made for him. After that, his behavior radically changed. It's as though eating the cake turned him into a mindless, violence-prone man," melancholy painted Persica's expression. She seemed lost in thought.
"A cake made him the way he is now?"
"I made sure to carefully select the ingredients for the cake for no adverse effect. However, I must have made a mistake somewhere. He grew violent, unreasonable, and hateful," Persica held back her tears.
That earlier suspicion returned, and Gamer asked, "Before you and your father came to Chanterelle, where did you live?"
Persica thought for a moment, but gave nothing, "I don't actually remember. I think I was too young to save those memories. I can't...seem to recall anything."
Gamer carefully considered Persica's and Marco's origins. They were the only humans around and could use the game's power ups. Gamer suspected that Marco ended up turning into an NPC during the cake fiasco. Persica lost it earlier than that. They lost themselves, and became driven only by their final thoughts and feelings. If Gamer hadn't cheated...
"Okie dok, horrific, and you've been hiding away here because you want Marco and Lord Shellie to duke it out? Maybe killing each other in the process?" Gamer moved on to her motivation.
"That is accurate. My heart is theirs, but both bare oppression and violence upon Chanterelle. I, for that matter, am hopeless. Neither will listen to my woes, and my will is weak before them. Thus, for Chanterelle and the shroomans to find peace, I sequestered myself away and dream of a resolution. As a pacifist, these times strain my heart," Persica rubbed her arm nervously.
"Are you sure you're not hiding behind pacifism when it's simply abuse?"
"Abuse..." Persica disdained the word. She set her joint down and withdrew a little, "If that is my curse, I must blame my father for the infliction."
"Daddy issues, too?" Gamer wouldn't be surprised at this point.
Persica's expression shifted from calm but troubled to repressed frustration, "My father was a hardened man. Too focused on conquering and accruing profit. He used his cunning to have the shroomans follow his every word. He treated them poorly, and took pleasure in their groveling. He planned for me to be just like him. Yet he'd end up choking on his words."
"The plot thickens," Gamer remained jovial. "Did somebody start a revolution and dance all over his ass?"
"No, he choked on food while scolding me."
"Oh..."
"I made a promise on his deathbed, after spitting on his face, that I would seek peaceful conclusions to conflicts. Perhaps that hate is my poison," Persica returned to sorrow.
"Yeah, I get the father thing. Mine's the reason why I'm here," Gamer empathized.
"Is that so?"
"Mine's a big name politician where I'm from. Tosses around power and money like they're greetings. The only thing he cares about with me is becoming number one in my field of expertise. The moment I disappointed him, he turned his back on me and sent me here. Bastard..." Gamer shared.
"Why is it that they feel like they have total control over us? Like, seriously? Ugh!" Persica's mystique dropped. She leaned her elbows onto the table and sliced her hand like a knife, "It's like they just want a miniature version of themselves!"
"Or when they have you do things because they're too old to do it. That way they live through you vicariously. But if you screw up, they blame you for ruining their dream!" Gamer joined in on the trauma dump.
"I know! It's so stupid!" Persica slapped the table.
"I bet it's because they're insecure about themselves," Gamer leveled with the princess.
"Self-loathing," Persica agreed while having an epiphany. "And then, with all that bottled up energy, it spreads like a spiritual disease..."
Gamer and Persica grabbed separate bottles of mushroom spirits, knocked back big swigs, and let out hearty sighs. It was time spill the beans.