***

Wake up.

Brush teeth.

Shower. Don't shower. Wait, no. Shower this time.

Deodorant.

Comb your hair, you piece of shit.

Get dressed, pull on shoes.

Breakfast, breakfast, break... Leftover spaghetti? No, it's started to rot in the fridge, it's been so long.

Didn't you have a slice or two of spinach and bacon... Pizza! Yes!

… You're probably going to regret this later, but for now, your stomach is full and you can go on with your morning routine.

***

Zach Bruys bent down and did a quick retying of his boot laces before walking to the main room of his home.

1685 Blightblossom Lane. The address belonged to the condo Zach stood in. It was such a large space that the city decided to give the singular condo it's own moniker separate from the building it resided in.

Zach sighed, pulling his fingers through deep brown hair as he performed a mental checklist of what needed to be done before he left to do errands.

“Let's see,” The 22-year-old said, his voice a warm neutral that lifted up on certain syllables, “Rooms 3 and 7 need their carpets deep-cleaned. Room 4's bathroom needs a new toilet paper holder. Shit, and the window in Room 1 was busted a few days ago...”

He folded his arms and marched to the supply closet in the main hallway. He snatched up his favorite toolbelt, grabbed a canister of cleaning wipes and sponges, as well as a bottle of all-purpose cleaner.

He was going to have to make more than one trip, probably ten and over before he was done. But this would be a good place to start.

***

“Dear Mom and Dad,” He spoke out to Room 1 as he hefted up the new glass to the window pane, “I'm still taking care of the condo. Not like I can do much else with the two of you still gone. But, hey.”

He fastened the glass into place and plucked a cleaning wipe from the canister next to his feet. “It gives me something to do in the mornings.”

Wipe.

The smears remained; egged on by the residue on the glass that the warehouse employees had done fuck all in the means of cleaning up.

“Damn it...” Zach groaned, taking a new wipe and going at it harder.

***

“Mrs. Kusnetstov from the second floor keeps insisting that I should sell the place,” Zach shouted out over the choking whir of the carpet-cleaner. He shoved and yanked it over the pink shag carpeting in Room 7. “I guess she means well, but where the hell would I even go?” Which, really, was the thick and sad of it. A young man who was unequally Yokut and Japanese (he hated how his hair would never choose between stereotypically smooth or stereotypically thick and wild). He was gawked at whenever he went to the local Little Tokyo and he was pitied when he visited the Yokut settlement. So, really, what was the point of leaving?

“I mean,” He turned off the carpet-cleaner, “What if I did leave and you guys came back to an empty house, huh? What then?”

The words rolled through the room and crashed into a silent death in the hallway.

***

“The city's even been hounding me for the space.” Zach marked the part of the off-white bathroom wall where he needed to drill. He abhorred the thought of fucking this up again. He already had to patch up the remains of the last time he tried to fix one of the other towel racks.

Zach hefted up the power drill and rummaged through the bits that he had. “'You're holding up progress', they say. 'Think of what you could do with the money', they say. 'Why are you being such a stubborn little shit', they say.”

Zach fed the drill into the wall just enough so that, when he hefted up the first handle of the toilet paper holder, he would have a notch to put the corresponding nail.

***

“They say that I'm selfish keeping all this space to myself.”

Zach pulled a rag damp with polish over the doorknob of Room 5. He moved it back and forth until, when he removed the rag, the knob was sparkling like the sun's reflection in the harbor.

Zach looked around the condo. He removed the bandana from his hair with a low breath. “It's not like I'm forcing people away from renting some of these rooms out.”

''Cause she's a Maneater

Make you work hard!

Make-'"

Zach ripped his phone out from his pocket and hit 'Accept'; not even glancing down at the caller-ID. “Talk to me.”

“Where are you?” A woman's voice snapped out on the other line, “You know that the LlamaYama Cronutwich food truck calls it a day at 1:37! PM! To. The. Second!”

Zach shied away from the screeching voice and looked at the clock on his phone. Indeed, it was already 1:15. “Shit!”

He tore off the tool-belt, the gloves, and almost ripped off his boots before he realized how futile that would be.

He grabbed his wallet and keys off the counter and bolted towards the door.

His boots screeched against the hallway's hardwood floors when he forced himself to stop his momentum.

Zach walked over to the mirror he had hanging there and brushed back his hair, just to have it fall back into place. “Whatever.” He walked to the front door and took a step out.

Not before turning back, examining the state of the condo, and snapping a quick picture of the space with his phone.

***

Nestled by a fresh-smelling bay and surrounded by gigantic steel bridges, Dama Fristad was known all over the country as 'the harbinger of new beginnings'. The population was primarily younger (recent college graduates, idealists, and entrepreneurs), majority employed, and wholly of the favor of looking towards the morrow and never the past.

Were there unsavory elements to this bay-side burg? Of course; we're talking about a city of living, breathing creatures here. Someone's bound to get stabbed, mugged, raped, or –

But the point is that it didn't happen as much as it did in other cities. Everyone was far too busy trying to build up lives they could look upon with pride and pass on to their loved ones.

“One Honey-Whip on Vanilla Wafer!” A burly, hair-covered man popped his upper-half out of the side window of a brown and white food truck decorated in llamas wearing chef hats.

“That's me.” Zach walked up and waved his receipt before anyone else could try and steal his order like that one asshole from two weeks ago who--

The truck owner handed him the warm delicate, flaky layers of a croissant and donut love-child split in two with a large scoop of fresh ice-cream in the middle.

With his food in hand, Zach walked back to the stone bench where the young woman who damn-near screamed his head off on the phone sat.

“So,” Faaria took a bite of her own order as Zach sat down, “Any takers on your condo?”

“No...” Zach was about to take a bite but he went on, “I've been updating the listing on every rental site every other day for the past eight months.”

Faaria adjusted her bright blue hijab to try and avoid staining it in her haste to finish eating. “I still can not believe you've gone this long without any tenants.”

“Like it's my fault?” Zach brought out his phone and opened up the latest site that had any rental inquiries. “Look at this. I put it as clear as night and day: '1 bedroom, 1 bath, kitchen-access, prime central location. $878/month as well as a share of utilities'. Do you know what I was sent last night?”

“No, but I am sure you are going to tell me.”

Zach swiped his phone screen and read out, “'Do you really need 878 tho??? I can't see paying that much for one room...'” Zach shoved his phone into his pocket. “If it wasn't what I was asking for, why the hell would I have posted the ad?”

Faaria shrugged. “Maybe they wanted to haggle you down.”

“I'm renting rooms.” Zach quipped back, “Not selling fruit in the back alley of Calcutta.”

The truck owner slammed his fist against the side of the vehicle. “Alright, last call!” He looked around, scanning through the crowds. “Come on, I know one of ya wants--”

In the corner of his eye, he could see a small hand bandaged hand waving a five dollar bill near the window. He looked down, a smile growing on his face. “Well, hello little lady.” He leaned out of the truck as much as he could to address the little bundle of ancient bandages. “What can I get for ya today?”

“Vanilla on cinnamon!” The little mummy beamed, her mouth missing several teeth but her eyes just as bright as most human children her age.

“Vanilla on cinnamon, huh?” The truck-owner chuckled as he went to prepare the order. A fresh cinnamon donut, a scoop of creamy sweet vanilla... “Here you go.” He waited until the mummy had a good hold on her order. He nodded, “Tell your moms I said hello.”

The mummy nodded and rushed off. She was going to get this right back to her parents and they were going to go to the park to share it!

The little mummy ran past Zach and Faaria just as Zach said, “Maybe I should claim that the condo is haunted so I can get some tourist revenue.”

The little mummy kicked up her feet when she saw an older mummy and the off-colored flesh of a zombie near the water fountain.

“I – WAH!” Her tiny feet tripped over the brick of the path and as she was sent to the floor, her icy sweet treat meeting the floor with a splat. She caught herself upon her hands but the moment she looked and saw the dismal fate of her ice cream, her wrapped-up face squeezed tight into a grimace. Her tears and whines rang out through the park, finally prompting the zombie and mummy couple to shuffle over.

“Oh no...” The older mummy cooed, gingerly lifting her child into her wrapped arms, “You have to be more careful, dear.”

The zombie turned towards the departing food truck. “Damn... it...” She rasped out. Despite the limited vocabulary her and her kind had control over, the words held all of her frustrations at the fact that the LlamaYama was G-O-N-E for the day.

Zach was listening to his friend talk about how there had to be something he wasn't trying. However, his ears were far more taken by the crying of a child robbed of a simple joy.

“Hello~?” Faaria waved her hand in Zach's face. His gaze had been wandering and his attentions were blatantly elsewhere. Zach silently got up, cronut sandwich in tow, and walked over to where the zombie and mummy were failing to calm their daughter down.

Faaria pouted at the retreating back of her friend. She wasn't just talking for her own benefit. However, as she watched Zach hand over his own cronut-sandwich to the little mummy and depart with a wave and a ruffle of the child's ribbon, a quiet little 'aw...' left her lips. And with her heart feeling fuzzy from the display, her brain was blooming with a new idea to help Zach out. She wanted to be able to go home without worrying about him being alone in that giant empty condo.

“Guess my track-record of going without LlamaYama's is still safe.” Zach tried to joke it off but, despite doing a good deed, he was still slightly disappointed that he had run all this way just to end up missing out again. Zach looked and saw Faaria grinning up at him. “What?” He looked down to his feet. Up to his knees, to his shirt. There was nothing amiss. “What's got you grinning like that?”

Faara finished her food and clapped her hands together. “We're going to get your rooms filled by the end of the week!” Faaria hopped up to her feet and grabbed Zach by the wrist.

“Wait, your hands are sticky.”

“Shut up and let's go!”

***

Zach often wondered if someone like him should have been so familiar with the inner workings and sinew of City Hall. But Faaria had a thing for dragging him to work with her to see what a real job was like. So he knew to wave to the guardian lion statues in the main hall of the older building. Both statues nodded their greetings to him before resuming their stone-faced duties. The sound of great wings flapping caused Zach and Faaria to duck just as the graceful form of the mayoral caladrius whisked by: her great wings reflecting the light of the room as brilliant spectrums.

She departed and they were soon off again. They reached an elevator and Faaria produced a key-card from her pocket and swiped it through the reader on the wall.

“I should have said something before,” Zach spoke as they stepped into the elevator that soon lowered down, “But what are we doing here again?”

Faaria waggled a finger in his face. “Good things to those who wait.”

“Last time you said that,” Zach shoved his hands into his pockets, his foot tapping as he waited for their stop, “I didn't have water in my condo for a month.”

Faaria folded her arms and sent a pout and a cut of the eyes Zach's way. “You still aren't letting that go, are you?”

“I had to go to the Chinese restaurant around the corner just to take a bath, Faaria.”

A chime floated down and the elevator doors opened. “Hey, wait.” Zach looked up, left, and around. The intimate warmth of red velveteen wallpaper and embroidered flooring seeped into his perception: it condensed his senses, letting him smell the crackling fireplace two rooms away.

“This is the floor of the city Housing Committee.” Faaria kept walking and Zach even found himself, “Come on, keep up! We're here for you, not me.”

Zach grumbled something under his breath along the lines of 'around the corner for a bath, Faaria...' but allowed the tug of his friend to pull him.

She skidded to a stop in front of a simple, unassuming room with a glass door. “Faaria, for the love of God,” Zach glared down at her, “If you try to tell me that there's wine in here.”

“Quiet down, Fortunato,” Faaria opened the door and led the way in. It was a tight fit for Zach so he didn't even know how the hell Faaria was walking through with her, ahem, larger presence.

Shelves upon shelves, crafted from steel but blanketed with verdant moss, reached to the ceiling. Zach stopped to take a look at one of the many, many treasures this storage room held.

They were perfectly round, perfectly smooth, while they held the fluidity of water and the color of the world around them.

Zach's words fell lifeless to the ground as he approached one of the orbs. He hefted it up into his hands, a soft warmth spreading out from his fingertips and resting into his bones.

He smelled... vanilla. And sugar.

“It's an Enviea.” Faaria explained, “They're what allow non-humans and humans to live in the same space.”

Zach had to pull himself away from the welcoming aura that the Enviea seemed to flood over his entire being. “What do you mean?”

Faaria leaned against a shelf. “Well, think about it: a dragon, a mermaid, and two humans couldn't live together in the same house without gutting it or something, right?” She looked up at the collection of Envieas in the chamber. “They... affect space and matter. I don't completely know how they work, but all the businesses and rentals and things in town all have one.”

That was it. Zach understood now.

“How much?” He asked, his eyes looking back at the Enviea in his hands. He knew that something like this couldn't possibly come for cheap. But, just maybe...

If, you know...

It would help him rent out those rooms...

Faaria stood up straight. “Right to business, hm? Let's see...” She hummed and swayed, “The typical price is around, oh, 150,000--”

“What?” Zach dropped the Enviea back onto its cushion like it was made of fire. “Faaria, what the hell? I can't afford this; why the hell did you bring me down here?”

Faaria stepped back. “Come on, I had a feeling... But maybe we can find a used one around here for you to buy at, I don't know, half off?”

Zach scoffed and Faaria pouted at him once more. “At least I'm trying to help, you big grumpy baby!”

“Faaria.” Zach sighed for a second. “Most of your 'help' results in me begging for a quick and merciless death.”

“Now, now, you two...”

“There's no need to argue in a place like this.”

Zach whipped his head to the left. “Mayor Hebeus!” Then to the right. “Mayor Heart!”

Mayor Heart was an older woman, dressed in a baby-blue skirt-suit and matching heels. Her black hair had some streaks of gray in the up-do she had, but her brown skin showed no sign of her age.

Mayor Hebeus stood upon four powerful legs, the hoof of each leg swaddled in billowy feather hairs. He had started to bald a bit, but his gray goatee was as thick as any rugged lumberjack's. His torso was draped in a suit jacket, the tails falling over his lower half and splitting in two just as his swishing tail came into the picture.

Faaria smirked and folded her arms. “Told you.”

But Mayor Heart allowed her painted lips to curl up in a skeptic's grin.

“And I thought that I told you that I need you to file the rest of the petition templates for the leprechaun banking school?”

Faaria flinched back like she had been burned. “Well, you know...” She tugged at her sleeves, “I just wanted to... Help my best friend out with his rental situation?” Faaria ended her piece with a chuckle.

Mayor Hebeus looked to Zach. “Still no decent applications, huh?”

Zach sighed and started to leave the Enviea chamber. He should have known better than to let Faaria drag him into any more bullshit but he was getting desperate.

***

He walked through the halls of City Hall, dipping out of the way of an embittered Cwn Annwn trying to make their way to the law department. Zach followed the hall, took a left, and let the quivering carpet underneath his feet carry him back to the reception area.

Now then: if he could just find that one bench that he always seemed to be in a three-way power-struggle with two non-humans for any time he was stranded here. Zach squinted his eyes to get a good look. His vision was obscured by the lumbering mass of opaque sludge that was being escorted through the building. When they were finally gone, Zach carefully stepped over the slime trail left behind and found, to his relief, that the simple wooden bench was empty. “Now to wait.” He whispered, leaning his back against the wall once seated.

He felt submerged: cloaked in the sounds of growls and hisses, of ancient languages mingling with human tongues. Zach took a deep breath, soaking it in. He finally opened his eyes and let them fall onto the one major ornament of Dama Fristad City Hall. Oh, the building was well-furnished and decorated, but the shining jewel of the city was the velveteen dress of deep plum encased in a glass tomb. It stood in the center of City Hall for all to see... And for some to strive for.

Zach heard Mayor Hebeus approaching before the centaur spoke. Hoofbeats traveled further than footsteps.

“Still haven't found a princess for this dress, huh?”

Mayor Hebeus shook his head. “Unfortunately the search for someone pure enough of heart and kind enough of mind is looking to be too much of a reach. But,”

Zach found his attention taken away from the dress beneath the glass when the centaur next to him began rummaging through his pockets. Zach managed to keep his mouth shut for all of three minutes before he asked, “So, I've been wondering--”

“No, I'm not going to start wearing pants just to have better pocket options.” Mayor Hebeus switched to his other coat pocket: mumbling something about 'nosy young people' and 'how would that even work, anyhow?' It took him another minute. “Ah.” Mayor Hebeus pulled out what he had been looking for: the familiar warm scent of vanilla and sugar whispering to Zach's senses. Zach turned as Mayor Hebeus eased an Enviea into his hands. “Sir, wait—”

“You know just as much, if not more, than I,” Mayor Hebeus insisted, “That those rooms have been empty for far too long. Go on, boy,” Mayor Hebeus nickered, one of his hind-legs tapping at the linoleum floor, “Take it.”

Zach looked down at the clear orb and then back up at Mayor Hebeus. He couldn't accept this, really... Though he was certain that if he didn't, he would get a pun about looking a gift horse in the mouth by Faaria later on.

…

Yeah, he would honestly rather die than hear that. “Thank you, sir.” When Mayor Hebeus handed him a handkerchief to wrap the Enviea in, Zach took it without question.

This could actually work.

Now Zach just needed a way home that wasn't Faaria or public transport. “Mayor Hebeus,” He looked up, “Do you think that maybe I could hitch a ride home?”

“Don't push your luck, boy.” Mayor Hebeus gave Zach a simple punch to the shoulder; tail swishing angrily behind him.

2: The Great Convergence - Part the First

Zach slowly sat up in bed. He pressed his hair back with his fingers and hopped out of his mattress's alluring hold.

“You have to get up sometime, you miserable fuck.” He whispered to himself before pulling himself out and walking to the shower.

***

Zach walked around his condo for the fifth time that morning. He was getting a bit... not anxious, but he was confused. His condo looked the same. Did Mayor Hebeus give him a busted Enviea? Even with Faaria texting him in the middle of the night, reassuring him that the changes would be more apparent when he finally got some tenants, Zach was uneasy.

“Just throwing it all to the wind here...” Zach stopped his pacing to push the candy dish on the coffee table. It was just.

A little.

Off-center. An impassive face often hid deeper passions and agitations. When he felt as though the main room looked okay, Zach grabbed several pieces of chocolate from the dish and walked to the door.

***

“Shit!” Zach grabbed his knee, gritting his teeth at the pain from the sudden impact against his leg. “What the hell was that?” He looked around before finally taking note of the large chest that stood in the hallway. It was your typical grade-A treasure chest: black lacquered wood gilded with gold. It nearly pulled Zach closer to it; something inside of it... calling to him.

He shook his head. He didn't have time for this, he had to talk to his doorfairies.

If you lived in a nice enough place and could hang a basket of living flowers upon your door, you could end up with doorfairies. And it wasn't a bad thing, either: if a family of doorfairies moves in, making their home in the breathing blooms upon your door, you could expect fortune, tranquility, and safety.

Zach stepped close to the basket of blightblossoms upon his door, the violet blooms and thorns shuddering with his approach.

“Hello?” He spoke, and waited.

“Hello?” Zach spoke, and looked at the time on his phone.

“... I have chocolate.” Zach stated.

“Good morning, Zachary~!” Three teeny-tiny heads topped with fuzzy antennae popped out of the blightblossoms: a chubby father, a slim mother, and a little daughter.

“Is that for us?” The doorfairy mother asked, already snatching away the chocolate that Zach had brought. The doorfairy father leaned his fuzzy body against Zach's finger and schmoozed, “Boy, let me tell you Zach: you are a dream! Sleeping and screwing all day and amazing food! All without having to lift a wing!”

“Maybe some of us should look into lifting their wings more often.”

A flutter of wings found Zach's ear as a fourth doorfairy flew over to Zach's hand. “Hey, Zach.” He called up to the human.

Zach nodded at the doorfairy with the rich, blue fuzz: a stark comparison to the others' rose. “Hey, Periwinkle.”

Periwinkle fluttered up and landed on Zach's shoulder. He put his chin in his hands and pouted, black eyes pleading, “Please tell me you've found a reason for this door to open more often. I'm dying here!”

“Damn it, Periwinkle!” The doorfairy father growled out at his son, “Haven't you ever heard of 'not looking a gift Pegasus in the mouth', you little ingrate?!”

“It's not being ungrateful when you just want to do what you're born to do, you fat fuck!” Periwinkle yelled at his father.

Zach didn't even try to get in the middle of this fantasy family feud. He waited for the motions to rise: Periwinkle's father trying to fly up to get at his son but failing due to his weight, Periwinkle cutting the air with more of his complaints (complaints that were, really, justified), and then Periwinkle's mother and little sister coming into the fluttering fray to dog-pile on the indignant doorfairy.

The thing was, though, that Zach didn't have the time for this. “Guys. Guys?” He snapped his fingers, the sound-wave rolling over the doorfairies and quelling the squabble. For the moment. “Great, good; you can listen up now.” Zach cleared his throat, “I'm actually expecting some potential tenants today. So, can you guys maybe... Go back to working?”

“WHAT?!” Periwinkle's family squeaked in horror. But Periwinkle shot up into the air and did a complete loop.

“Praise be to Trillium the Fair!” Periwinkle zipped over to Zach and gave him a high-five to the finger. “I've been waiting for this day!”

Zach opted to take his leave and wait for the first of the applicants. Though, that left the matter of the chest. “No one else lives on this floor.” He stepped closer and tapped the chest with his foot.

Nothing.

Zach rubbed the back of his head. “God damn it.”

***

Zach panted and wheezed, sweat beginning to bead upon his brow. He had just managed to carry the chest into the main room and, damn it, the thing must have weighed as much as a morgue's worth of dead bodies.

Zach took several steps. He was desperate to find a place where the chest wouldn't be an eyesore.

“Visitor!” The doorfairy father announced, his tiny voice vibrating through the door via the blightblossoms.

“Oh, fuck this.” He let the chest drop to the ground. “I'll just call the postal company about it later.” Zach jogged over to the door. He brushed down his shirt and wiped the sweat away from his forehead. “Okay. Okay, here we go.” Zach reached out for the doorknob –

He was shoved into the wall when a hoof kicked the door inward with a resounding crack.

“What the shit?” Zach yelped, trying to ignore the bruise forming on his stomach from the doorknob. Zach squeezed his way out from behind the door. “Can I help you?”

He didn't get an answer aside from two literal jackasses walking in.

The two donkeys, one brown and one white, walked in on their hind-legs. Dressed in black suits with shimmering blooms in their breast pockets.

“Vicinity clear?” The brown donkey gruffed out, adjusting the earpiece he had in his right ear.

“Vicinity clear.” The white donkey nodded. He knocked his hoof on the door and the both of them rushed to stand, at attention, on either side.

Soon Zach heard hoof-beats from the hall. They were gentler than the ones that had knocked his door in: falling to the floor like the winter's first snow.

When he first saw them, there were the crystal hooves that cleared away dust and debris and dust as they kissed the ground. His coat was pristine and white, a few silver speckles on his hindquarters.

The hair of his luxurious mane and tail floated and shifted around him. The silken strands twisted between bright silver and deep blue as sparkles, like stars in the Milky Way, swam through. Deep eyes; stormy, blue eyes framed by thick, white lashes. The equine beast looked around the apartment, careful to not pierce anything with the spiraling horn jutting from his forehead. Zach stood up straight and asked, once more, “Can I help you?”

The unicorn nodded, main and tail shifting, “Allow me to make an introduction. I,” He readjusted himself to bear his weight on three legs, lifting a hoof to his chest, “Am the first son of the reigning King Alabastras and Queen Fuschiabolt Winterdust: Prince Silveste Winterdust.”

The two donkeys closed the door, allowing Silveste to step closer to Zach. “I am here to inquire about the open status of your dormitory selections.”

Zach looked at the unicorn for a long while. “I beg pardon?”

Silveste chuckled. His eyes sparkled when he spoke, “I would like to rent one of your rooms.”

“Oh, right.” Zach got up and led the way further in. “The kitchen is large enough for several beings to cook and entertain without bumping into each other.”

It was odd to fall back into 'open-house' mode after his condo had been empty for so long. But it was the fact that someone was actually there, not pulling or hiding behind passive-aggressive fake inquiries...

Silveste looked around. He gave a quick nod. “Might I see the chamber in which I could retire and gather clarity for the next morn?”

Zach looked Silveste up and down. “Listen, I'm going to need you to ease up on that before you drive me crazy.”

“Right, of course.” Silveste cleared his throat. “I'd like to see the rooms now.”

***

Zach opened up the door to room three, the first two being denied due to not 'having the right aura', whatever that meant. “Step on in, have a look around.” Zach let the equine entourage inside. Speaking of which... “So, I got your name,” Zach hung tight near the door, “But your friends here elude me.”

“Oh, Blancher and Bruner?” Silveste gave a nod towards the two donkeys. “They're my bodyguards. They've been with me since before I was born; I don't know what I'd do without them.”

Blancher and Bruner didn't say anything.

'Tough crowd.' Zach thought.

“...y, this room will do.”

Zach nearly missed the way that Blancher bowed to one knee, Bruner walking close to Silveste with a briefcase weaved of ivy and sweet-grass. It opened with a click and Silveste grabbed a wand out of it with his mouth.

A wand. A purple-polished handle topped with a snowflake crystal embedded in the center of a silver ring.

Before Zach could say anything, the wand was already shining brilliantly in Silveste's grip. The flash that started off as a mist exploded into a flood that engulfed the entire space.

Zach shielded his eyes and didn't lower his arms until he heard the sound of bubbling waters. He gasped, looking around to see that what had been Room 3 not even a few minutes ago was now a piece of pristine forest. A soft breeze blew through the boughs of grand oak and maple trees that nearly obscured the view of a shimmering violet sky. The grasses and plants beneath their feet held an ethereal glow.

“Much better.”

Zach turned to see Silveste, Blancher, and Bruner examining the mystic space. “Do you two think I should send home for my bedroom set or should I order a new one?”

Blancher and Bruner gave each other a quiet look. “You two are right.” Silveste nodded, walking to a soft flat of flowers and sweet-smelling leaves. “I'll put in the order tomorrow. Bruner, can you give our kind landlord the deposit so he can be on his way. I'm sure that we've taken up far too much of his time.”

“What did you do?” Zach muttered in awe. Magic was a common occurrence in Dama Fristad, but you usually had to travel to the Shimmer Gale District to have it specifically done for you.

Zach watched Bruner walk over with a checkbook in hoof. But he had questions. “Unicorn magic?”

“Diluted, of course,” Silveste replied around the wand until Blancher came to put it back in its briefcase. “The idea of using pure unicorn magic is absurd.”

Zach took the check from Bruner and shrugged. “Guess I'll leave you guys to get settled. Welcome home.”

***

Zach stepped out of the condo for a second to check if anyone had gotten lost (though, he was the only residence on his floor). He could hear simple bickering from the blightblossom and the doorfairies within. Zach knew that Periwinkle was beyond hyped with the development, but the rest of the family –

“Such tortures never existed back on Azathoth...”

Zach turned to the western end of the hall that was punctuated with a staircase. Periwinkle peeked his head out of the blightblossoms before flying over and hovering by Zach's ear. “Is it another tenant? Zach, is it? This is so great!”

The humming of the doorfairy's wings was deftly ignored. There was something about the voice from the hall's end: the way that it wriggled and rolled through the air.

A squelch.

A squish.

A slide.

A writhing mass of slime and tentacles pulled its shuddering form up the stairs. It looked around with three black eyes, magenta forked pupils contracting and expanding.

“Shit.” Zach backed up at the sight of the tentacles. “Are you still a target for hentai-trope bullshit if you're only half Japanese?”

The writhing mass turned at the sound of Zach's voice. “Oh!” It pulled itself to Zach, its height reaching up to Zach's groin. “We are sorry about our appearance! We weren't expecting your, erm, your...” The gelatinous creature let out a crackling trill, three eyes squinting up, “What is human word for--” The tentacle-blob made noises that blended vowels with clicks for several seconds.

Zach turned to Periwinkle. “Don't suppose you speak Eldritch-ese?”

“Sorry,” Periwinkle shrugged and floated back to the blightblossoms, “I only took a semester of Harpisian back in Secondary.”

“Great...” Zach turned back to the bleb at his feet, wide eyes looking up at him. He followed the trail of translucent slime that the tentacle-blob had dragged from – “The stairs?”

The tentacle-blob gasped, the sounds not coming from a mouth but wisping about in Zach's mind. “'Stairs'!”

Zach watched as the creature reached into its slick, slimy body and pulled out a clean notebook and pen. In handwriting that was perfect portions scratch and script, it wrote out a series of symbols and then the word 'stairs' next to them.

The tentacle-blob examined its notes with a nod. It tossed the notepad up above itself and its body tore open into a ravenous maw. Wriggling tendrils and spiny teeth swallowed down the notepad, with spine-shattering squalls filling the hallway. It pulled itself back together and smiled with its eyes.

“Can we rent one of your rooms, please?”

Zach, still shell-shocked, eased the front door open.

***

The tentacle-bleb handed Zach a thick manila folder full of photos, dusty pages, and paperclips.

Zach opened the folder up to an ink-drawing of the very tentacled horror in front of him. And the words... It was written in a humaneness script, but pronouncing it was a feat. “'Ne'...” Zach twisted his lips and tongue around the combinations of the letters on the page, “'Phobos'?”

Nephubos nodded. “Yes! You said it correctly! Usually, we have to spend so much time going over it!”

Zach flipped through a few more stained pages and weathered pamphlets. He clapped the folder shut and set it down on the coffee table. “So, what's an Eldritch Abomination like you doing in a place like this?”

Nephubos's dark slimy body swamped over to a pale pink swath of hair. The dark slimy state returned, as did that voice. “We have been given great opportunity! A full scholarship to Dama Fristad Academia to study Human Culture and Relationship Dynamics!”

“DFA, huh?” Zach folded his arms and watched the bleb crawl around the main room and touch everything with its tentacles at least twice.

“Yes, yes! We are so very overjoyed to have been chosen to study a subject of such vast interest and variances! But...” 

Those three wide eyes swam through Nephubos's gelatinous body to look up at Zach. “We are in need of shelter while we learn. And we happened upon your listing while using the primitive human technology called a...” Zach cringed when Nephubos reached into themselves and pulled out that same notepad from before. They sped through several pages, eyes squinting at the right one. “Laa-p-tooop!”

Zach turned away just as the ungodly shrieks and baying began, signaling that Nephubos had put the notebook back inside. The noises finally subsided and Zach found it in himself to look down again. Nephubos's minute movements managed to make their body jiggle and their tentacles wiggle. It warmed Zach's heart a bit.

“Let me show you to a room that you might like.” Zach led the way down the nearest hall. Room 6 would be a good fit.

***

Zach slammed the door to Room 6 open, a series of claws, tentacles, and bubbling slime speckled with agitated eyes reaching out forto him. He shut the door, shoving himself up against it in an attempt to keep the hellish din inside.

'Decorating', is what Nephubos had called it.

“Visitor!” The doorfairies chimed out before there was a scratching at the door. Zach could have sworn that he heard some growing agitation in the voices from some of the small beings.

Maybe he was imagining things.

He walked to the door and sidled up close to look through the keyhole.

The sight that welcomed him was... relatively normal. A pretty face and a pointed chin. Topaz eyes with plenty of surrounding eyeliner with a smorgasbord of thick dark tresses around their smiling visage. “Hello?” Zach could hear the stranger call out. “Are you home in there?”

Zach pulled back and shrugged. After being crushed by his own door and still wiping his hands free of some otherworldly slime, Zach could use some normalcy.

Zach opened the door.

Zach was forced up against the wall by a warm behemoth of sandy brown.

“Hi!” Said the creature, whose body was that of a lion: heavy paws, lustrous mane, and large ears. His face, despite holding the same shade as his fur, was more human-esque. Well, as human-esque as you can imagine when a creature fills the entire walkway and front area of a condo. “Is this the place?” The sphinx asked, making a circle and smothering Zach beneath more of his fur and bulk. “It's so pretty! And in such a good location!”

'I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die!' Zach screamed in his head. He certainly couldn't have done so with his mouth. Not unless he wanted to make an impromptu hairball.

The sphinx stopped circling and sniffed around. He sat on his haunches and reached to his side, pulling Zach free from his fur. Zach swallowed down air as soon as his mouth and nose were free. “If I wasn't gay already,” He wheezed, “That would have put me off of pussy entirely.”

The sphinx didn't seem to hear him. “You have such a nice home!” He beamed down at Zach and Zach could get a better look at the topaz eyes that bore slits pupils. He followed the whorls of liner around the sphinx's eyes that formed an Eye of Ra.

“My name's Gahiji.” The sphinx introduced himself after he let Zach go. “And I'd like to rent one of your rooms!”

Zach looked the sphinx from the golden headband around his head down to the manicured claws on his paws. He couldn't even get away with saying something like 'oh, sorry but I don't think any of our rooms will fit ya, buddy'. Fucking Enviea...

“Okay..?” Zach tried to smile back but he was snatched up and rushed over to the nearest window.

“This is great! This is so great!” Gahiji clapped his paws together and opened the window. “Almighty Morning Star~?” He called out, “I've finally found a place! Come see!” That was it. Zach was officially of the mindset that this sphinx was crazy; shouting into the air like he was.

Then the air got hotter.

Not like fire. More like the change one feels when driving from a beach to a desert. Zach looked up and the sun was lowering down. Closer, closer, closer still. To rest near the building. If Zach wasn't still so close to what had to be 13,000 pounds of clingy lion mixed with God only knew what, he would have panicked.

He was still uneasy but when the sun began to shift and form into something new, he simply stood still.

The Sun god Ra's avian face appeared in the flaring orb or plasma and fire. Ra looked around for a second before gaining focus. “Gahiji.” He addressed, his words sending zephyrs of heat over the building. “Are you sure that this is where you would want to live? We could try that nice bungalow off the 91 again.”

Zach opened his mouth. Gahiji covered his face with a heavy paw. “Oh no, almighty Illuminator. I want to live here. This place is perfect!” He grabbed Zach and jumped to the left, the apartment shaking. “It's nice!” To the right, sending a glass toppling from the counter. “And roomy.” To the left again. “And it's right in the center of everything!”

Zach was going to puke.

Gahiji hopped backwards: one paw before the next, chattering away until Ra chuckled,

“My dear knowledge-keeper, I have heard your concerns. And your praises. You, boy.”

Gahiji carefully set Zach back on the floor. Zach waited for the salty bile in the back of his throat to settle back down before looking up.

“Boy,” Ra addressed the human in the room, “The child next to you is very precious to me and mine. I understand how the presence of creatures like him and beings such as myself may be overwhelming, but I order you --”

“Make sure that he doesn't get into the medicine cabinet by himself, got it.” Zach interrupted. He wasn't trying to be rude, but he really needed to finish this and get some fucking ginger into his stomach pronto. Ra blinked down at them. He cleared his throat and shook his head, “Right. Okay. How much of a deposit are you asking for?”

***

“And this,” Zach said, leading Gahiji into one of the available rooms, “Is one of my larger layout rooms. Well, besides the basement. Hey, do you want to live in the basement?”

Gahiji tilted his head. “How does a condo have a basement?”

Zach shrugged, “I don't know, after today I'm just giving everything the King Crimson approach.”

Gahiji took that as a window to look around. “I probably wouldn't want it, though. Being surrounded by gloom and doom? I can't possibly imagine subjecting myself to that when it's such a wonderful day!” Gahiji looked around and made a circle around the room before nodding. “Yes, this will do it!”

“Great.” Zach folded his arms, “You can call whoever you need to help you move in and – you're going to pull some mystic bullshit and completely ignore me, aren't y--”

A flurry of brightly colored feathers flew into the room. They spun and spun, faster and faster until they took the form of a woman dressed in a gown of ibis feathers. A crown of gold and ebony feathers rested upon her head.

“Ma'at!” Gahiji bounced over and crushed one of Zach's feet on his way to the goddess of justice and harmony. She merely laughed as he got close enough for her to scratch behind his ears. “Such an excitable creature, as always.” When Gahiji pulled away, Ma'at looked around. “A reasonable amount of space... Yes, yes I think I'll be able to do something worthwhile with it.”

“Good,” Zach grunted and dragged his screaming foot out of the room. “I'll leave you two to whatever plans you have.”

Gahiji waved a paw at Zach's retreating form. “Thanks again!” He chimed out.

The door slammed shut. 

3: The Great Convergence - Part the Second

The fridge door squeaked as it was pulled back, Zach poking his head in. Oh, the beers standing guard by the leftover Chow Mein seemed tempting... But, it just wasn't a good time to, well, have a good time.

“Still,” He shut the fridge and leaned against the door, “Three out of nine rooms rented already. I guess the Enviea is doing its job.”

Though he really could do without another mouthful of hair or nightmare fuel anytime soon.

***

“Much too lively.”

“Nowhere near enough black and blue.”

“Too close to the sky but not nearly close enough to the ground.”

Zach kept silent. The group that was looking through his apartment then was composed of the resident Lich of the Necriona District in town, the (emphasize the 'THE') Grim Reaper, and a young combination of the two. He had to be their son, Zach realized, looking at the figure in the cloak leaning against the wall.

The ghastly face of the Lich glanced over at Zach. Zach had to avert his eyes when he felt his body grow heavy at the sight of the icy blue lights the lich called eyes.

“Are you sure that this is the place?” The lich asked the younger figure.

He nodded in silence. The Grim Reaper, however, wasn't too enthused.

“This is nonsense,” Her voice reverberated through the condo, “We will go back to Necronia and put this nonsense of you 'moving out' out of your head and beyond our troubles.”

Well, it wasn't like Zach had the wherewithal to force these three to fall in love with what he had to offer. He just wished that they would get this over with so that he could prepare for another walkthrough.

The younger hidden figure lifted his head. He tilted it to the side: listening.

“What's that?” The lich asked, taking a listen. “Hm...” It was a raucous sound: crashing, roaring. It would take one's breath away if it could be heard by more than those who could no longer speak.

“It's louder here.”

The first sound of the younger figure's voice made Zach's bones jumped out of his skin. He had been quiet this whole damn time and now he decided to open his mouth? Fucking kids these days...

The Grim Reaper lifted a bony finger to her teeth, dark eye-sockets thoughtful. “I see. Fine.” She nodded to the Lich in the room.

He held up his hands in time for a grisly pen and a checkbook made of aged skin to appear in front of him. Sritching, scratching. “Here you are.”

“Wait,” Said Zach as the check was forced into his hands, “What did you guys hear? Actually, wait!! This is more than first and deposit!”

“Let us be on our way.” The Grim Reaper announced, ignoring the human in the room and leading the shadowy trail of her cloak behind her. She stopped, not to let her husband join her but to address the younger figure. “Fane.”

Zach watched the figure, Fane, lift their head: a lone seafoam light shining out from the darkness of the cloak. “I will be in touch.” Said the Grim Reaper, “Your father and I will be expecting progress.”

And that was that. She disappeared in a haze of mist and, in a blink of blue, the Lich was gone as well.

Zach looked down at the check, grimacing as it began to wriggle before going limp. “Hey,” He looked over at Fane. “Your mother's not going to get mad and cut my life down by thirty years if I deposit this as is. Is she?”

And then it was like night and day. Gone was the quiet stander-by, now Zach was greeted with Fane presumably rolling his eyes and scoffing. “She gave you extra to feed me. God, you're embarrassing.”

“Wait, what?” Zach walked to Fane, the phantom interloper standing shorter than him. “What's your damage all of a sudden?”

Fane turned away. “There's a basement here, right?”

Zach scrunched up his face. Fuck this little shit if he thought he was going to get an answ – “Hey!”

“You're too busy being stupid over there.” Fane said, his cloak dragging on the floor as he found the stairs that descended into the abyss. “I already found it.”

Zach opened his mouth.

Then decided 'Fuck it'.

And merely waved Fane off to do whatever.

The last bit of the phantom's cloak disappeared into the darkness before Zach scratched the back of his head. “What a shitty attitude. Probably gets it from his mother...”

***

“Oh..!”

Scaley claws surged forth to grab at another scaley body, bringing it close to a silk-covered chest. Zach sat on the couch across from a family of three nagas. And they weren't the fantasy-porn variants of 'human torso fuzed with snake bottom' either. 

No, no; these were scaley from tip to tail. The mother of the micro-nuclear family was built more like an elegant cobra compared to her death adder-esque husband and her python-esque offspring. “My baby...” The mother kissed her son's cheeks, her forked tongue flicking out over the same spots. “I still remember back when I laid your egg. It feels like yesterday and now you're leaving the nest!”

“He'sss a twenty-four year-old, Charlotte!!” The father hissed, “Quit smothering him, for God's sake!”

“Raleigh!” Charlotte hissed at her husband. She immediately regained her sweet composure, turning to Zach, “You have to understand: my little Silas has been at home in the nest all his life. And when he up and started talking about 'culinary school'-this, and 'moving out on his own'-that! It darn-near gave me a heart-attack!”

“He'sss a grown ssserpent, Charlotte...” Silas's father hissed under his breath, Charlotte holding Silas tight and baring her fangs at her husband.

“Raleigh..!” She caught herself again, resting a clawed hand upon her cheek, “You'll excuse us for just a moment.” Zach said nothing as the cobra naga dragged her death-adder naga mate off to the balcony. The door slid open, two bodies slithered out, and then the door slid to a close.

But, even with the barrier of glass, one could just make out the furious hissing-match going on outside.

Zach looked to the naga still on the couch. His shy posture didn't necessarily match his large size (at least half a head taller than Zach). His scales shifted whenever he moved: melting from sandy brown to a ripe green. They also changed shape: round, to square, to diamond.

His eyes gave Zach a questioning look and, for a minute, Zach wondered if he had missed something.

Wait.

Silas's hands. The motions that the naga performed were nonsense to Zach's brain until, out of the blue:

'...she's always been like this, I guess. My dad doesn't make things any better.'

Silas was mute. And, thank God for the Enviea because Zach new for damn certain that he didn't recognize the gestures on his own.

“Crap,” Zach said, “I've been ignoring you this whole time, haven't I?”

'It's alright.' Silas signed, 'At least you weren't doing it on purpose.' The naga shrugged his shoulders. 'Like my dad.'

“Maybe if you didn't coddle him ssso much, he would be talking like a normal naga, Charlotte!!”

“HE CAN COMMUNICATE JUST FINE, RALEIGH! MAYBE IF YOU WEREN'T SUCH A STUBBORN ASS--!”

Zach and Silas shared a glance. “Normal for you?”

'Every. Single. Day.' Silas looked down at the coffee table, his claws still moving, 'It's why I finally decided to move out. I actually got into Keebalah Culinary Tech. The crème de la crème of confectionary and culinary education for nonhuman kind. I love my parents, but I can't breathe with them around.'

Zach noticed that Silas's parents were still arguing on the balcony. He stood to his feet and pointed down the opposite hall. “Let's get you a room.”

Silas smiled, his forked tongue flicking past his lips. 'I'd like that.' Silas slithered after Zach and took another sniff of the air. 'It's already becoming a bit of a full-house, isn't it?'

Zach thought about that. “I guess so. But, so far, everyone's been pretty cool about it: mostly going straight to getting their rooms the way that they want them.”

Silas nodded. 'I'll probably have to go back to my parents' nest to get my textbooks and baking supplies.'

Zach felt a bit relieved. No more sudden magic bullshit or flipping through Lovecraft's wet-dreams. “Well--”

The door was forced open faster than Periwinkle could announce it: a pile of loaded suitcases was hurled through the air, smacking into Zach and sending him into the nearest wall.

Silas immediately slithered over and began digging through the luggage. He hissed as it felt like there were lead weights crammed in every corner of every case.

He didn't have long to work. Heavy hooves clopped against the floor, a low voice barking out, “What it do, pencil-dicks?!”

Silas flinched and turned around to see a minotaur looking down at him. The minotaur tossed his remaining backpack onto the floor and scratched at his stomach through his tight-fitting shirt. “Hey, scalie, you seen a human around here anywhere?”

'Yeah! Under your mountain of crap!' Silas signed furiously, eyes narrowed and tongue lashing out.

The minotaur snorted out and stepped over Silas's tail so he could grab his largest suitcase. Zach popped out when the weight was removed and gave the minotaur the grimmest frown he could manage. “Can. I. Help. You?”

The minotaur jabbed a thumb against his thick chest, “The name's Odysseus and I'm taking one of your rooms!”

With Silas's help, Zach climbed out of his weighted tomb and stood up in front of the monumental minotaur: from filthy hooves, to his recently trimmed mohawk. “And, why, should I rent to you and not wait for someone to come along who hasn't crushed me under an airport's worth of luggage?”

Odysseus threw his head back and bellowed out a huge laugh. “Ha, you're funny! Look, my credit-score is fucking flawless and,” He dug into his pockets, “Here, take it.”

Zach frowned even further as he was hit in the face with a check bound to a couple of monetary notes. It had Zach wondering if a good portion of non-humans just had excess money laying around in spades for shit like this.

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” Odysseus snorted out, “Going to go pick out a room. Try to have something to eat for me by the time I come out, alright? Alright...”

Zach and Silas watched Odysseus take his one backpack, the rest of his heavy hoard simply left where he had dropped it. “He's the exact sort of guy,” Zach began, his expression still neutral, “That you just know has a dick so small that he has to compensate in every. Other. Aspect of his life.”

Silas frowned when he heard a door open and then shut. 'He took the room that I wanted.'

***

The brevity of breathing room was something that Zach took complete advantage of: scrolling through inquiries on his phone. With Odyss-Ass and Silas getting settled, he simply had to survive whoever came in next and – O-oh.

Oh.

There were several dragons looking to move in, a banshee, and a dullahan. Zach grimaced at the notion of adding scorch marks and icicles to his daily maintenance rotation. And he actually liked being able to sleep, so he didn't need a banshee living under his roof. Their cries could pierce through any wall or barrier. Maybe the dullahan. Zach lifted his finger to open up the inquiry but his phone flashed as Faaria's picture popped up on the screen.

“I'm still mad at you.” Said Zach after he pressed the phone to his ear.

“Oh, shut up.” Faaria huffed out, “Anyway, do you have any rooms left?”

Zach grimaced. “Yes... but I feel like telling you that is opening the grounds for more 'make Zach miserable' time.”

He could hear Faaria roll her eyes over the phone. “Look, I am sending over a nice young thing who has just made it into town but needs a place to stay.”

“Never say 'nice young thing' again, please.”

“Shush!” Faaria hissed, “Anyway, he's going to be there soon. Don't scare him off with your usual mopey self.”

Zach's face was impassive but his words were flat and cold. “Well that was dickish.”

Faaria sighed. “Sorry, I'm sorry. Look, this kid is really nice but he's, well, trying to get away from some awful things.”

Zach took a seat. “Is he a refugee?”

“No, nothing to that extent. Look, just give him a chance, alright? I'll talk to you later.”

“Later then.” Zach hung up. The sound of slick tentacles sliding across the floor made Zach look to his left to see Nephubos crawling around.

“Sorry, sorry!” The writhing mass said, “We are just exploring. There are so many things in here that we've never seen before. Like this!” Nephubos pressed themselves up against the couch and ran their tentacles along it. “It's so soft and plush! And you... recline upon it?”

“Y-yeah.” Zach cleared his throat, “It's called --”

Nephubos pulled themselves over the back of the couch and landed next to Zach with a loud 'splat'. Zach moved a bit away from the ooze that started to seep into the upholstery. “A couch.”

“I see, I see!” Nephubos reached into themselves and pulled out their unfazed notebook. “'Couuuuuch'.” They scribbled the word down and put several symbols next to it that Zach couldn't recognize. Nephubos's eyes swept across their gelatinous form to look at Zach. “This is nice.”

“Mm-hm.” Zach hummed back. It was... He just didn't want to get too comfortable before – 

“Visitor!” The doorfairies shouted. Zach got up and walked over to the door. He braced himself to be smothered or slimed or tackled... But there wasn't any of that. 

He blinked and looked at the creature on the other side of the door. “Did Faaria tell you about this place?”

His hair was curlier than a freaking R&B convention. Simple but elegant horns twisted up from his head and the mask that was his face crinkled as he chuckled. “Yes, how did you know?”

“Come on in.” Zach stepped aside to let the rakshasa in. He carefully lifted his feet one at a time to avoid the rakshasa's long, striped tail as it followed along the floor. “I thought you guys usually stick to India.”

“Ha ha, yes.” The rakshasa chuckled again, bat wings shivering, “And, trust me, the weather here is already colder than I am used to.”

“It's 85 degrees.” Zach deadpanned.

The rakshasa turned to Zach and held out his hand. “Forgive my rudeness. My name is Suraj.”

Zach returned the gesture and continued into a bow. Zach knew a little about nonhuman culture, after all; he hadn't been raised on an Amish barn.

Zach had to ask, though, even if it was none of his business in the long run, “What's a predator like you doing in this neck of the woods? If I'm correct,” Zach sat back down, he was getting tired of the standing, “Rakshasa are social predators, right? Family piles and close-knit circles?”

Suraj's joyful disposition seemed to die for a quick second. But it soon came back. “I just wanted a change of scenery. It's never good to stay in the same place for too long, right?”

“I'd disagree on that,” Zach turned around, “Well, I can either show you to a remaining room or you can go searching on your own. Your choice.”

With a savage crack, a dozen dripping tentacles seeping out of Nephubos's room. “Oh no!” Nephubos pulled themselves across the floor. They ducked away from the fanged beak-like appendage that surged out and snapped at random.

With Nephubos fighting their bedroom furniture, Zach and Suraj had a moment to think. “Maybe...” Suraj hummed, “I should find a room to set my things in before it gets too late.” He yawned, both sets of fangs revealing themselves for a quick second. “Jet-lag is setting in something fierce.”

“Come on.” Zach waved Suraj over to follow him. “You might really like Room 7.”

They passed Nephubos's room on the way, the tentacle-bleb tying the monstrous beak of their bedroom-set so it would stop snapping.

“Should we help him?” Suraj asked Zach, but Nephubos slammed the door and waved one of their tentacles.

“Nothing to worry about! Just settling into a new home!”

“Home...” Suraj echoed. That word held just that much warmth coming from the rakshasa's lips.

***

It was going on 3:35.

Zach had relocated to the kitchen table. There were deposit checks and cash to the left of him and a layout of the condo in front of him. “Room 3 has a unicorn...” Zach scribbled onto a napkin, “Room 6 has a living porno prop, I have a douchebag in the basement and a turd-sandwich in Room 1...” His lower lip was caught between his teeth as he wrote Silas's and Suraj's names next to Room 2 and Room 7 respectively. And, with Gahiji bouncing in the picture, Zach had successfully managed to rent out all of his available rooms save for two.

“Never! Ever! Met her at all!

Ya wish you never ever met her at all!”

Zach snatched up his phone and walked into the main room. “Zach Bruys.”

“A good strong voice for such a strong-sounding name.”

Oh.

Ooh, baby boy... Zach had to take a second to brace himself up against the nearest wall. Deep, like dark caverns hidden beneath the Earth, baritone voices. The one thing in the world that seemed to make him go weak in the knees.

“Can,” Zach swallowed the lump that had appeared in his throat, “Can I help you?”

The voice on the other end of the line chuckled and Zach felt himself falling ever faster. “I was in the market to rent a room. Well, two of them. To be precise.”

“Two rooms?” Zach echoed, feeling just how hot his face had become.

He could hear the flipping of pages before the voice asked, “Is this a good time to talk? I can call back at another ti--”

“No!” Zach insisted, embarrassingly loud at that. He caught himself too late and shook his head, “N-no. This -- I mean – now is fine.”

“Excellent.”

“Christ on a bike!” Zach fell on his ass with a shriek. He bit his lip again when he heard a bicycle chime in the hallway.

There was no time for that, though. Zach ran his eyes up the tall, broad physique that had appeared inside of the condo in the span of half a breath.

A wendigo. But not the Native American variety that Zach was used to. A dark blue suit with a raven tie, large leather shoes shined to perfection, and thick white hair that made up a beard in the front and fell in long tresses to his back.

Oh, there was also the matter of the large skull that rested upon his neck. A cross between lupine and crocdylinian features with deep dark eye-sockets only broken by the bright eyes within: flashing like blue and green fire as they regarded Zach. Zach followed the tight curl of his horns until the conversation began.

“Forgive my intrusion.” The wendigo closed the book that he had in his hands. “You've probably had a busy day and, here I am: popping in unannounced.”

Zach wished that he could have cared more but this creature's voice was turning his insides into jelly with every syllable.

“...weather we've been having. Oh, my manners.” The wendigo chuckled: the gentle shaking of his chest the only physical sign of the sound coming from him. “My name is Abelard von Baumgarten.” The wendigo offered a dark hand to Zach.

Zach took it and gave an earnest shake. The flesh was lukewarm at best but the way it engulfed his hand (and Zach was a pretty large guy) gave that deep, warm caress of a voice that much more weight.

They let go of one another. Zach covered his nearly flushing features with a quick hand; moving it away as soon as the warmth left his cheeks. “So, asking rent is $878, along with a deposit of first's and last's month.”

“But of course.” Abelard nodded, his facial features unmoving. As expected. And, as expected, Zach nearly groaned out like no man's business. He bit it back, though: continuing on.

“However, with you needing two rooms --”

Abelard reached into his breast pocket and, one extravagant flip between the fingers later, held a check out to Zach. “I am prepared and then some. In order to get these two rooms.”

Zach took the check and let his eyes follow the elegant curls and twists of Abelard's handwriting. Sure enough, there was the necessary amount for the two rooms. “Why...” Zach shook his head to clear away the fog known by anyone who had ever been near a sweet piece of ass, “Why did you need two rooms again?”

Abelard looked around until he noticed the couch. “Zach, take a seat with me.”

They both moved to the couch. Zach all but collapsed onto his side while Abelard slowly let himself sink into the plush cushions.

“I've just moved into town,” Abelard's words were so deep they rumbled through the couch and into Zach's very bones. Zach watched the Wendigo flip the pages of the heavy book he carried until he came to a sketch of the Dama Fristad skyline. “I was just offered a job as the resident Non-Human Researcher for the Dama Fristad Police Force.”

Zach quirked an eyebrow. “Really? And they didn't station you over in Necronia?”

That deep rumble rippled through Zach once more with Abelard's chuckle. “No. Apparently,” He leaned over and said, “Apparently I'm... 'too lively'.”

“Heh.” Zach thought to the phantom in the basement. “Oh, I have my own experiences with that.”

Abelard's eyes looked over to the dark discarded chest in the room. But he didn't speak on how it caught his attention. He allowed the discussion to merge over to his need for two rooms. “Evidence and records.” Abelard explained, “Seems to me that, despite what my work will entail, that I haven't earned enough priority to keep my library inside of the police department building.”

The door to Odysseus's room cracked open: the minotaur jogging over to the couch and tipping it over: Zach and Abelard faling to the floor.

“Where's the food, fat-ass?”

“You were serious about that?” Grumbled Zach. He hadn't gotten to his feet before he heard a painful-sounding bellow. He looked back up to see Abelard holding tight onto one of Odysseus's ears, the minotaur looking about ready to cry: one of his hooves stamping against the ground.

Odysseus bellowed out again, unable to twist out of Abelard's hold. “I know for a fact that you weren't raised in a barn, young one. Don't you figure that interrupting a conversation shows for a strong lack of manners?”

“Let go!!”

Abelard shook his head. “Apologize, young one.” When Odysseus choked and bellowed out once more, Zach could tell that Abelard was pinching harder.

“Fuck, okay, FINE!! Sorry!”

Abelard nodded and let Odysseus go. The minotaur immediately grabbed his ear to feel for any bleeding. He retreated to the kitchen and began rummaging about in the fridge on his own.

Zach got another good look at Abelard while the wendigo's back was turned. He really did fill those slacks out nicely.

A flutter by his ear. Periwinkle. Zach turned to see the doorfairy humming by his head. “Looks like you're at full capacity.”

“Yeah, it's like night and day.” Zach took a second to get the couch right-side-up again. “It's amazing what a ball of water and some resilient bones can do. But, here we are: eight very interesting tenants later.”

Odysseus peeked his head out of fridge, a celery stalk sticking out between his lips and a jug of milk in his hand. “Eight?”

Abelard picked up his book from where it had been tossed to the floor from Odysseus's pestering. “You may want to do a small recount.”

“What?” Zach blinked and held up his fingers. “Silveste, Nephubos, Gahiji, Fane – the little prick, Silas, Suraj, Odysseus, and, you, Abelard. That's eight tenants.” What were these guys getting at? He had single-handedly endured each and every one of their brazen introductions. He would have known first hand if a ninth non-human had tried sneaking in. The only way that he could have forgotten something like that is if they had come in before all the chaos had begun: Zach forgetting about them after the first blow to his self-esteem in the form of a door to the face.

Abelard said nothing. His eyes, though, were looking at that black chest that was sitting in the center of the main room.

Zach followed the wendigo's gaze and immediately remembered how this day had started. This friggin' chest and how he had nearly busted his shin open against it. How he had nearly broken his back carrying it in. And now it was trying to make more trouble for him?

“Hey.” Zach nudged his foot against the chest. “Hey. Get up.”

The chest rumbled and trembled. It yawned and grumbled. It snorted up a bit of air and let out a muffled sneeze.

The latch in front unclipped itself, allowing the lid of the chest to open with a significant 'pop'. Inside were rows upon rows of knife-like teeth and thick, opaque drool drenching over fleshy burgundy walls. 

A long, thick tongue lolled out of the chest and, on the inside of the lid, a great eye that shined like a ruby blinked up at those in the room. But it wasn't garnering the most attention at the moment.

Nay, that went to the form of the young boy whose torso hung out of the vicious chest: anything from his waist down dissolving into that slick, dark flesh. The boy 'sat up' and gave an exaggerated yawn that was copied by the rest of the chest. He opened his eyes and looked at his surroundings with ruby-colored eyes.

“Hey...” He looked and pouted, his thick bobs of copper hair following his motions, “This place is pretty nice on the inside...”

“And who are you?” Zach asked, already feeling like he wouldn't like the answer.

The boy... the treasure-chest... The mimic gave a small two-finger salute. “The name's Mira. And I want to live here!" 

Zach folded his arms. "Tough tiddy, kid. First off, I'm not even sure you should be living on your own. Secondly, do you even have the money to pay rent and a deposit. Third, I'm out of rooms."

Zach almost felt bad, too; he wouldn't want to send a little thing like this Mira out on the street. 

But Mira merely. 

Chuckled. 

"Listen, kid." He shrugged, "I've been around since the Aztecs were wiped out due to a bunch of guys who didn't know the meaning of 'pull out'. I'm not going to be rejected by some squirt barely out of diapers. Or access to PornHouse.com. Fucking douchebags." Mira sank into the chest, the lid falling shut. It opened up again so Mira's tongue could hold out two handfuls of gold coins, jewelry, and gemstones to Zach. 

Don't tell Zach how he knew they were real or how he figured that the mimic would lash out and rip off his arms, it was a mystery to him.

"This is all fine and good," Zach had to insist, "But I still don't have a room for you." 

Mira closed himself and reopened with his boyish appearance back in place. "I'll just stay in the main room here. A room of my own would probably be too much space anyway. Everything I need is inside me."

"Huh." Zach nodded, "That was surprisingly deep." 

"Of course it was!" Mira closed himself and reopened with a laptop in his hands. He turned it on and asked, "So, what's the passcode for the wifi in this place?" 

Zach had to decide what was more worth it at that moment: stopping Odysseus from eating him out of house and home, kicking the mimic out, or finding some way to keep Abelard talking so he could hear more of that lovely, lovely voice. 

He sat back down on the couch. "You." He pointed to Mira, the mimic waiting with wide eyes, "'Melancholia'." 

"Finally~!" Mira typed in the passcode, whooping when his laptop connected. 

Zach turned to Nephubos, the tentacle-bled crawling out of his room. "You. Has your furniture calmed down yet?" 

"We... think so?" Nephubos offered. Zach watched Nephubos crawl to the kitchen and finally turned to Abelard. The wendigo looked down at him. Zach could swear he was smiling. 

"You have quite a bit of work ahead of you." Abelard hummed. But Zach merely reached for the remote and turned on the TV. The afternoon news was on: a clown reporter honking away her report about a local cafe that had just opened. 

"As long as my condo isn't burned down to the ground, we're good."

4: Hooves and Claws

The morning sun broke through the thick canopy of pine and ash trees. 

Crisp, clean waters cascaded down upon Silveste: cleansing his coat and relaxing his mane and tail so that they seemed to melt into the crystal pool surrounding him. Silveste nickered and moved away from the waterfall. “Blancher?” He called, his vision obscured by his soaked mane, “Bruner? I – Oh,” He stopped when he felt hooves upon him, “There you are.”

Blancher, the white donkey, brought over a woven basket filled with glass bottles and spheres full of powders and liquids.

Bruner, the brown donkey, came carrying towels knitted from the wool of Fae Ewes and golden brushes.

The two donkeys waded through the crystal pool until they were close enough. Blancher poured the contents of several bottles onto Silveste's back. A combination of sweet-smelling liquid and shimmering powder was massaged into the unicorn's drenched mane: Blancher's hooves belying just as much, if not more, dexterity as human fingers.

“I should get a new phone...” Silveste hummed, keeping his eyes shut to prevent any soap from getting into his eyes. “My parents are probably wondering about how the search is going. Though I have just moved in, so I guess I have a bit of a grace period. Also...”

Blancher and Bruner had learned, after twenty-two years of service to their prince, that the best means of action was to tune him out whenever he began to ramble. It wasn't a feat of disrespect, just an attempt to retain one's sanity.

Blancher guided Silveste underneath the waterfall: the clear waters whisking away the bubbles and oils.

Well.

Most of the bubbles and oils.

You see, with more than two-thirds of the suds left, the waterfall had trickled out.

“Blancher... Bruner...” Silveste huffed out. But the two donkeys could only shake their heads.

“Water disruption?” Blancher asked.

“Water disruption.” Bruner confirmed.

Silveste walked to the shore of the lake and struggled to pull himself out with his form being weighed down by water. “This is a truly unacceptable course of occurrences! My follicles need to be lathered, rinsed, and repeated to a completionary scale before I can commence with my daily compendium of actions!”

Blancher and Bruner had tuned out around 'unacceptable', so they were waiting for their prince to calm down long enough so that they could get to the bottom of this.

Silveste grimaced with how he was still dripping with suds and oil. This had to be the work of whoever was in the room next to him.

“Blancher! Bruner!” Silveste nodded towards the small vale of trees that led to the door. “Let us go and clear up these chaotic principles of aquatics!”

***

Silveste knocked a hoof against the door of the room next to him. “Hello? Hello in there!”

Blancher and Bruner stood at either side of their prince; the unicorn huffing as he didn't get an answer soon enough for his liking.

“Hello?!” Silveste knocked harder until his efforts resulted in the door easing inward: a warm air billowing over them.

Without hesitant thought, Silveste traveled down the golden brick-hewn path that led deep into the earth. Blancher and Bruner followed him in. They passed intricate carvings of hieroglyphics and paintings curled and swirled onto the wall in striking golds, reds, and blues.

A gentle tug on his tail stopped Silveste at the base of the descending staircase. The unicorn looked around and saw that, with a few more steps, he would have fallen head first into a pool of warm, jasmine-scented water.

Water that was surely the cause of his own shower being cut short.

Blancher and Bruner followed the sides of the pool until they happened upon two large paws dangling out of the water.

Silveste grit his teeth, nostrils flaring and hooves kicking at the ground. “A lion? Here?”

Blancher and Bruner narrowed their eyes, ready to defend their prince. “Dying to a lion in the line of duty.” Blancher hummed.

“Seems like a nice way to die.” Bruner whistled back.

The waters broke apart and the three equines in the room braced themselves for the worst...

“Wow!” Gahiji whistled as the waters settled, thick drops rolling down his mane and fur. “I didn't realize how deep this pool went! Ma'at really went above and beyond for me~!”

Blancher and Bruner immediately deflated away from their offensive stances. “Sphinx?” Blancher asked.

“Sphinx.” Bruner confirmed.

Silveste wasted no time when the assumed threat was dissolved. “Hark there! Keeper of wisdom!”

Gahiji tilted his head.

Silveste huffed out, “Okay... Could I inquire upon the fate of the aquatics belonging to me that would be facilitated for cleansing?”

Gahiji bit his lip. “I wouldn't know. I just filled up my pool for a bath a few minutes ago.”

Silveste stepped back. Someone who understood him upon first words. “Oh.” He shook some soap from his mane, “Well, then your bath has resulted upon the abrupt cessation of my own and I demand compensation!”

“But I didn't do anything...” Gahiji gave a little pout. As little as someone his size could muster. “You're really high-strung. Ooh, how about a massage! I'm really good at massages!”

Silveste groaned, his mane falling limp over his face. “Look,” He nickered, “I just want to finish my bath so I can move on with my day. Could I please use yours.”

Gahiji clapped his paws together. “Of course! That way we can talk, get to know each other, discuss our favorite foods...” Gahiji went on and on, not noticing how the water in his pool was starting to descend. By the time Blancher and Bruner noticed, Gahiji had felt his rump touch the bottom of the still-warm-but-ultimately-empty pool.

“Oh.” Gahiji frowned, tail flicking listlessly. “Well, that happened. I guess. But!” He beamed, “We can still talk! Oh, I know! Truth or dare! Twenty-Questions? 'Never Have I Ever'!”

Silveste could feel the hair in his mane cry out for washing and fluffing. It had been far too long: the oils were surely stripping away his hair's nutrients. Tears in his eyes, the unicorn tossed his head back and neighed, “ZACHARY!!”

***

The water-closet door swung open: Zachary setting down a toolbox and looking around. "I've lived here all my life." He deadpanned, "And I've never had the water-heater give up the ghost like this." 

"I can't go out like this!!" Silveste bayed out. His eyes frantically flitted left, then right. "There has to be some less-taken course of directory actions that has yet to be expl--" 

Zach used the bucket in the water-closet and poured some of the cooling water into it. He quickly upended the bucket over Silveste. "What did I say about doing that?" Zach sighed. 

Gahiji smothered a laugh behind his palm at the sight of Silveste's pitiful state. The poor unicorn's eyes began to water, and it wasn't from soap. "I'm a prince... Why is this happening to me?" 

Zach got out a wrench and went to work. With every twist of a nut and tap against hollow steel, his muscles bunched up underneath the shirt he wore. "Shit-times don't care about titles. When they decide that your life needs to suck for a bit, prepare to get on your knees, because shit-times are not gentle." 

Zach examined the exhausted water-heater. He finally whispered, "Shit." He got up and started to leave. 

"Where are you going?" Gahiji asked, bouncing after Zach and shaking the apartment. "Can we come?" 

Zach shook his head. "I need to go pick up some stuff to fix the water heater. Can you guys just... stay here so you can tell the others not to try and take baths until I fix this?" 

Silveste, once Blancher had come over with the briefcase that held his wand, took it and waved out a spell. The water was wicked away from his mane and tail: the curls returning and the colors shining as bright as ever. "I'm not so sure if we--"

"Can do!" Gahiji plopped a paw on top of Silveste's head. "Come back soon, Zach!" 

Zach shook his head. He patted his side to make sure he had his wallet and phone. Zach nodded to himself and walked out of the condo.

Bruner came along and offered Silveste a sparkling muffin. "Going out today?" 

Silveste took a bite and shook his head. "No... My mood has been shattered, torn, and all but dismantled into a million pieces before being tossed amongst the chaotic waves of life." 

The hallway was quiet save for occasional puffs of equine breathing. 

"..." Gahiji blinked. He leaned to the left. Then to the right. "So..." He asked Silveste, "What's your favorite color?"

"The color of disappointment and panic." Silveste frowned. 

Gahiji blinked. "Oh..! You must mean black! One of my former classmates really liked that color. Then again, he was a death-god, so I guess it was a given..."

5: Shopping in ShimmerGale

“I think this might be it.”

The fluttering of pages.

“Okay, yep!”

Nestled between two department stores not too far from Zach's building, Pecan Pavillion was a simple bookstore that managed to keep a steady clientele despite being in the era of digital publications reaming the living hell out of the printed word.

Rory Fontaine was similar in age and build to Zach, but his warm demeanor and small presence mixed with his softer voice made him seem that much younger. That much smaller in being.

“Here you go.” Rory set a book down on the counter in front of Zach, “'Plumbing and Piping on the Nonhuman Scale for Dinguses'.”

“Really wish it wasn't called that.” Zach frowned. He picked up the book and skimmed through a few pages. He also stepped aside when an old cyclops hobbled over. “You are a lifesaver, though.”

“Think nothing of it, Zach.” Rory rung up the old cyclops (throwing a free cookie into the bag; his favorite recipe). When the cyclops hobbled off, Rory adjusted his wide glasses.

“Aside from your plumbing issues... How's everything going so far?”

Zach reached into his pocket and slid over a fiver. Rory sighed, “That bad already, huh?”

“Not really.” Zach watched Rory take the bill and replace it with a package of three cookies wrapped in purple cellophane...

Which was soon joined by a twin.

And then a triplet.

Zach quirked an eyebrow at Rory, who simply offered, “Share them with your tenants, Zach. I'm sure they'd like them: every nonhuman that has ever tasted my cookies has raved about them.”

Zach knew better than to say anything about how those words could have had a second meaning. Didn't hurt to think about it, though.

“Well,” Zach shoved everything into his bag, taking special care of the cookies, “I'd better get home before the place gets pulled into a magical sinkhole.”

“Are you going to the gym tomorrow?” Rory asked, “They're finally fixing the racks.”

Zach cricked his neck, rubbing the initial smarting on his shoulder it caused. “Maybe. I won't be able to get a good set in if I'm constantly worrying about someone setting my condo on fire with a stray bolt of magic or some goth-wannabe pissant turning the place into a graveyard.”

Rory nodded, his bangs following the motion. “Well, text me to let me know. And, if anything else research-related pops up--”

“I'll come running back.” Zach waved as he left, ducking out of the way of the lamassu that was lumbering in.

***

Sand baths four times a week.

Soap and water baths three times a week.

Luckily for Silas, the morning of his new residence's water issues landed upon a sand-bath day.

The naga slithered out of his room and noted with a wash of relief that the main room and kitchen were empty.

Save for the mimic hammering away at a game controller connected to his laptop.

Silas really didn't feel like a conversation was needed; the mimic's eyes were focused on his screen.

He slithered into the kitchen and took a quick stock of what was on hand. Just enough flour... Just enough butter... Some vanilla extract. Wow, he really needed to do some grocery shopping before his classes started. As for then and there, however, Silas grabbed what few ingredients seemed good and set them on the counter.

His claws were washed with care, Silas making sure to get soap into the crevasses of his nails. A quick dry was followed by an apron being tied around the naga's waist. Silas searched for a bowl large enough for dry ingredients. The only one he found was, urgh... Plastic. Silas felt the bile rising up, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

Something simple, was his thought. And, hey, if it was good, he could share some with Zach. The human seemed like he could do with some cheering up.

Sift the flour, like you're twisting a rope.

The baking soda, to perk up one's hopes.

Salt, to remind you to appreciate the sweet.

Shake those together, keep it neat.

Butter and sugar, the bane of bad tidings.

Whisk in eggs, vanilla, and milk to be sure. And the result will be a treasure to share and adore.

Silas poured the sweet-smelling mixture into a baking pan. The fact that Zach only seemed to have the most basic of basic cooking utensils made him yearn for his own kitchen essentials to be brought over from the nest as soon as possible.

Frosting would probably be nice. And Silas absolutely refused to mix up buttercream in a plastic bowl. When the oven timer went off, Silas slithered to his room to get one of the few glass bowls he had managed to fit into his suitcase.

No porous surfaces for any stray flavours to linger. Anything mixed inside of it would slide right out with a mere swi--

If Silas had a voice, it would have filled the air of the condo with his screams.

The cake he had left cooling on the counter had vanished with nary a crumb left after.

Silas rushed over to the counter. He looked underneath it, in the fridge, in the pantry... Silas then slithered over to the main room to ask anyone if they had seen his cake.

Sure enough, there it was.

More than half devoured by a Mimic and a Minotaur.

'What are you two doing?!' Silas signed in a panic.

Mira's eyes never left his laptop screen. But the giant red eye in the treasure-chest portion of his body regarded Silas with an air of indifference. “Were you saving this for someone or somethin?”

Odysseus scarfed down the rest of his cake and walked over. He slapped Silas on the back, nearly knocking him over, “You really need to work on your baking, scaliebutt. That cake tasted like shit.”

'THEN WHY DID YOU EAT IT?!'

***

Zach hopped off of the 32 Air Tram when it pulled into the station. He could have gone straight home. But his phone had just flashed with a notification that the open-market over in ShimmerGale was having a surprise sale and he had been meaning to stock up on produce.

“Really wish I had brought one of the guys with me to carry stuff back.” Outside of the Air Tram station a moss-covered path led to the main shopping avenue of ShimmerGale.

The air was heavy with the aroma of newborn lilies and ripe berries: the chimes of flying fairies and pixies punctuated the area. Zach stepped aside, the forest district quaking when the paw of the ancestral Dire Wolf hit the ground: followed by the rest of its gait. He passed by a small florist's shop. In front of it, two old treemen were gruffing and joking over a game of Chess.

“Come on!” That came from the leader of a group of dwarves. Several of them got into a truck, the leader shouting out, “If we're late to the mines again, I'll have the hides of all of ye!”

Zach walked past a pair of nymphs selling feathers and leaves, had to persuade a swarm of pixies to leave his hair alone, and opted to give directions to a will-o'-the-wisp couple who were trying to visit their daughter in Necronia.

“Remember,” Zach called after the glowing balls of green and pink fire, “If you reach the hall of Judgements and Repence, you've gone a bit too far.”

Zach watched them float away before quickening his pace.

There. The open-market at last.

As far as the eye can see, and a bit further on, there were booths and tables full to bursting with the fruits and baked goods of nonhuman labor.

Zach deftly avoided any table being handled by goblins and grabbed a basket.

“Turkish Delights~!” A young witch with white hair called out as Zach passed by, “I promise they taste better than the shitty ones my sister-in-law makes when she's busy trying to kill Jesus-allegory lions~!”

A jackalope reared up when Zach picked up some of their carrots and spinach. He turned around and picked up some turnips before handing the jackalope some money for his purchases.

“I wonder if anyone in the house is vegan...” Zach hummed, walking over to where an orc butcher was selling fresh cuts of meat. He paid for some short loin and some hanger steak, the orc grabbing a large butcher's knife and cutting out the choices. When they were wrapped up, Zach placed them into his basket and walked away.

It was only then that he remembered. “Wait. Isn't Suraj Hindu?” He looked down at the beef he had just purchased.

“Damn it.”

***

'Wow!' All three of Nephubos's eyes went wide as the tentacle-bleb crawled around Abelard's library. 'There are so many books in here!' The wendigo had taken a quick cold shower (because surely a brief coldwater wash wouldn't cause too much damage with what Gahiji and Silveste had told him) before setting up his much-needed space.

“Yes, young one. I know that your education is going to have you reading quite a bit. So feel free to come in and use whichever tome you need.”

With his bookshelves spanning from wall to wall, floor to ceiling, with pamphlets, scrolls, and thick books filling up every nook and cranny, Abelard was still thinking about what supplies and collections he would need once he started working.

Nephubos crawled to one shelf in particular and pulled out a book entitled: ''Dissection on the Past Relations of Humans and Nonhumans' – Oh! We shall start with this one!'

Abelard chuckled and rubbed at his beard. “Keep in mind, young one, you can come in here anytime. And, unless I need it for a case, you can take as long as you'd like with any of my books as well.”

Nephubos nodded before they held the book close in its tentacles and crawled out of the room. They soon came back, 'Thank you again! Your kindness is most appreciated!'

Abelard walked over and pet the top of the slimy tentacle-bleb. “It is my pleasure, young one.”

***

After getting some fruits, more vegetables, and some chicken and fish (because fuck everything if he was going to make a bad impression on a rakshasa), Zach came to the full realization that there was no way he was going to be able to carry these things home.

“Where the hell is the Delivery Post again?”

The wooden counter of the ShimmerGale Open-Market Delivery post had been grown into the mossy-ground. Red and mauve toadstools peeked out here and there, ivy wrapping around the stool that grew up from the ground to accompany the counter. Zach walked over daisies, vines, and bluebells until he got to the admittedly small line to the Delivery Post.

If anything, it only seemed big because the two creatures ahead of him were ornate dragons. The Chinese sort, to give further detail. Talking away and flicking their long, scaled tails every so often: creating minute hazards that had to be avoided.

“I mean, it isn't even good sauce!” The golden dragon told his cobalt dragon friend, “Oy, I remember when I first came to this country! You could get a real, with actual Szechuan Sauce, for three dollars! And that included tip! Oy vey, the passing of the years! It's a mess!”

“Ah, you are stuck in the past. Come, we need to get these groceries to your wife. She's a real berryer, that one!”

The two dragons spiraled off into the skies beyond the trees. Zach hefted his purchases up onto the counter. The employee on duty was a young gryphon, her fur a dusty tan and her beak painted pink (for painting one's beaks or talons was a bit of a new fashion with the gryphon set). “Alright...” She typed pretty fast for someone with heavy paws tipped with fearsome talons. “Address, please?”

“1685 Blightblossom Lane,” Zach answered, already getting his debit card out.

The gryphon typed everything up and, after calculating the weight of Zach's purchases, said, “That'll be 8.50 for delivery!”

Zach paid the fee and grabbed an apple from his purchases as they were carried off. “I really should start heading back.”

6: Home Again, Home Again; Jiggety-Jig

“That's it!!”

The door to the basement slammed open. Gahiji and Silveste could hear furious footsteps stomping up the stairs until the owner of the steps charged into the main room.

Fane glared at the two large living creatures sitting in front of him. Gone was his heavy black cloak in favor of a black hoodie and skinny jeans. The hood was pulled over his face but one could still see how his face was savagely torn between a skull and the limp, hanging skin of a corpse. A glowing green eye shined out from the eye-socket of the corpse half, slightly obscured by bangs haphazardly dyed pale blonde and pink. Despite his other eye being a deep, empty hole, the phantom kept a mighty scowl. “Has the friggin' water been fixed yet?”

Gahiji tilted his head before bouncing up, Silveste too late to warn him. “Ooh! You must be Fane! You look a lot different than I thought from your voice!”

Fane rolled his eye. “Can you answer my fucking question? Has the water been fixed yet? Actually, where's that fucking human anyway?”

“He went to go get the things to fix it, if you must know.” Silveste huffed. “All we can do is be patient.”

Fane groaned, storming over to the kitchen. On his way, he noticed Mira: still playing his game. Fane, quick as a whip, changed course and snapped the laptop shut.

“What the fuck?!” Mira screamed. He whipped around and yelled at Fane, his lower body's teeth and eye rearing up. “Who put a bunch of sand in your vagina, asshole?!”

“Well, maybe you should listen when people are asking questions. Instead of playing your shitty, normie video game bullshit.”

“Oh, fuck off, you pretentious piece of hipster jailbait!!” Mira shouted back.

It was at that point that Suraj decided to pop out of his room. He had a pair of earbuds on, the soundtrack to his favorite Bollywood movie of the week blasting in his ears. He danced into the kitchen and started to make himself a cup of tea; oblivious to the fight boiling up around him.

“Um,” Fane puffed a bit of air against his lock of hair, “Do you have any idea who you're talking to?”

“Yeah!” Mira huffed, “Some spoiled pussy bitch-baby who has never had to deal with anyone calling him a pussy! Well, guess what?!” Mira took a deep breath, his small cheeks puffing up, “YOU'RE A GIANT, SPOILED PUSSY!”

“THAT'S IT!” Fane yelled, charging at the Mimic.

At this point, Blancher and Bruner were shielding Silveste from whatever the conflict would bring. Gahiji frowned, turning to Silas, “Shouldn't we stop them?”

'Maybe the angry corpse will be able to cut my cake out of Mira's stomach.'

All the yelling had warranted Abelard to come out of his own room. “What is the meaning of all of this? All of you need to calm down and start acting like the young adults you are!”

Fane gave the advice as much note as one would give a 'Don't Pirate this Software' notice. He managed to seize Mira by the throat and was getting a good throttle going on before Mira shut himself. He bit deep into Fane's arms before hurling him down the hall.

Mira opened himself up and gave a smug shrug, “Talk shit, get hit.”

Suraj picked up his mug and took a deep sniff of the jasmine tea he had brewed. Looking up, he noticed the chaotic scene and took out one of his earbuds. “Did I... miss something here?”

Silveste sighed, resting his head against one of his hooves, “Hopefully this will be the end of it. I hope Zachary gets back soon...”

Gahiji was about to say something when his eyes flashed gold. He frowned and reached behind himself for an umbrella.

Silas quirked an eyebrow. 'What's that for?'

“Wait for it.” Gahiji sighed.

Abelard was about to berate all of the younger nonhumans again when he heard the creaking and the groaning. It got louder, sounding more and more painful.

Odysseus walked out of his bedroom, a porn magazine in his hand ('Succubus Salaciously', a classic publication). “What the hell are you faggots doing out here?!” The Minotaur bellowed out, “I'm just trying to beat my meat, like a normal person, and you all are out here: KILLING MY BONER!”

A boot-clad foot stomped into the carpet. Everyone looked down to hall to see Fane.

Hefting the water-heater above his head.

He clenched his teeth together and hurled it into Mira: the Mimic screaming until the heater made impact and sent him flying into the nearest wall.

Fane stood up straight and gave a toss of his shock of hair. “Eat that, asshole.” He felt a tapping at his shoulder. He turned and saw Abelard standing behind him. “What the fuck to you want?”

“Young man,” Abelard asked with a sigh, “Was that the water-heater you threw just now?”

Fane opened his mouth but the bubbling of water cut him off. Both of them turned around just in time to see a flood of water surge up and wash over them. Gahiji managed to black most of the water with his umbrella and Silveste was kept mostly safe via Blancher and Bruner. But Silas, Suraj, Odysseus, Fane, Mira, and Abelard were caught in the flood. The water filled the condo up to the ceiling and stayed there.

The opening of the front door was muted by the onslaught of water. But the majority of the water sluice out of the condo when the door was opened all the same. When the water let out, everyone took a moment to regain their bearings. Abelard stood up and removed his coat. “Oh, the dry-cleaning for this is going to be a nightmare.”

“MY RI-I-IG~!” Mira sobbed, holding his waterlogged laptop to his chest.

However, one had to think back to the notion of the open door. Sure enough, it was Zach. He looked around the soaked remains of his condo: silent as the dead.

“Oh boy...” Gahiji frowned, Blancher asking,

“Think he's pissed?”

“He's definitely pissed.” Bruner answered.

But Zach stayed silent. He wiped the excess water off of the hallway table and set the cookies and book down. He then dialed a number on his phone.

And waited.

Everyone was too uneasy to be the first person to speak.

Zach kept on waiting until a voice on the other line spoke up. “Yes, is this Ascendant Home Repair? Yeah, I need someone out here ASAP.”

'We do not wish to be alarming anyone!' Nephubos popped out of their room and cried, their words heavy with worry, 'But we do not think that human living spaces are supposed to be wet like this!'

7: Coming Clean

***

8: Love-Scratched

The thing with beasts of fur and claw is that sharing a bed, while providing a primal, raw experience, has the result of sweating buckets in one's own bed due to the close contact.

Not to mention the 'fur-burn' (like beard-burn but all over your entire body). But, even with these factors, beasts and daemons bear some of the most complex of hearts. Hearts that bleed evermore, hearts that entomb themselves with iron thorns...

And there are the hearts that yearn for love like a parched man yearns for the drink.

***

Bedsprings creaked and complained from the two intertwined bodies above them. One was a man, handsome in face, strong in body.

But the second was a body covered in fur so creamy white that it held fast to itself like a pearl-finish. His mouth dropped open in a syrupy mewl at a particularly deep shift of hips: two sharp fangs hanging from the top, several sharp teeth jutting up from the bottom. His ears, rounded points, and strawberry-red insides, twitched and soft, round paws with paw pads of the same hue fell upon the man's back.

“Love...” The feline being tossed his head back, his breath in rough pants, “L-love you...”

“Mm-hm.” The man responded. But the feline didn't mind.

Being high on love and endorphins will do that to a creature.

***

Late that evening found the feline waking up and rolling onto his belly. He stretched out, his spine popping back into place from the series of contortions he had performed that night.

It was all more than worth it, though. A full night in the arms of the man you loved: the man who made your heart beat heavy, the man whose smile brought forth the morning sun!

The feline creature laid back down and pulled the sheets, a stray thread having caught his attention before he noticed the absence of his love.

He meowed, ears twitching and smooth tail gently flicking about. He got up from bed and prowled over to the bedroom door, peeking through the slightly opened door. He didn't have to go far. He didn't even have to listen too harshly.

“Come on...” He heard the voice of his love whispering, pleading, praying. “Come on, come on, come on!”

The ding of an email being opened floated in the hall.

“Dear Mr... Bla-blah-blah... We are... proud to offer you the position of lead danc-- YES!” He quickly shut himself up and skimmed through the rest of the email. He pumped his fists into the air. He did a little jog-in-place for victory. “Fucking that creepy cat up the ass finally delivered!” He cleared his throat and attempted to compose himself: ruffling his hair, coughing a bit to roughen his voice.

He walked back into the bedroom. Butterscotch eyes glowed in the darkness, pulling a gulp from the man's stomach. “Couldn't sleep?”

“Oh, um.” The man shifted on his feet. “I was just... thirsty. You know: a night of lovemaking can do that to ya! Heh...”

“Love... making.” The feline hummed. “Yeah. Yeah, that's...” He rolled over so that his back faced his lover. Out of sight, claws extended out from his squishy paws and cut into the sheets. “Hey. Hey, um, listen: maybe you should go for the night.”

“Huh?”

Was he really pulling an 'oblivious' act right now? “I have an early morning.” Those glowing eyes went narrow, the black slits inside of them contracting.

“Oh.” The man bit his lip. “I... Okay. I'll grab my stuff and see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah.” The feline huffed back. This was getting so beyond old. He listened to the human gently walk around the room. He picked his clothes, got his briefcase and, finally, tip-toed over to the feline. He gave him a small peck on the back of his head. “See you later, babe.”

“Mm-hm.”

The bedroom door was pulled to a gentle close.

Then the door to the apartment.

When the footsteps started making the staircase outside his building ring and groan, the feline got up from bed. “Where did that collar get to?” He asked as he rummaged through his bedside drawer. “Ah.” He pulled out the familiar red silk collar that held a round golden bell. It stayed silent, even as the feline fastened the collar around his neck. When the collar was in its rightful place, the feline rang the bell with a bat of his paw.

The bell rang out with a hollow chime. It was a dying breath, a pathetic ran during a drought. The shadow of the feline warped and shifted: the smooth form growing jagged and twitching.

Before it could start, however, it was finished: the completion heralded by the sound of a semi truck's horn desperately crowing out.

The chaotic bout of noise was cut off by the sick, splattering crunch of flesh meeting steel and glass.

And then.

Silence.

 

… He just wanted to be loved.

***

“Alfalfa-Vanilla-Blueberry Smoothie for Silveste!” A young cashier called out the drink that they were setting upon the counter.

Blancher walked up, hooves grabbing the smoothie and walking back to the large booth where Silveste and Gahiji were waiting: Bruner arriving soon after with an order of sweet-cakes from the next-door cafe.

“Thank you.” Silveste nodded as Blancher set the cup in front of him. “This is an outing that provides a suitable amount of positive air, right?”

Gahiji nodded, smile ever-present. “It is! You know, I was actually thinking about trying this place with the Almighty Illuminator. But he's always so busy! You know: minding the sun and all.”

Silveste nodded and took a sip of his smoothie, allowing the smooth textures of the yogurt and tart blueberries paint his tongue. “If I may stray upon the territory of those outside of my wisdom and inquire upon your reasons for picking this city as a residence? Surely a creature of your rarity and prestige has available lodgings the world over.”

Gahiji didn't answer right away. His attention was taken by the harpy desperately trying to carry the large smoothie cup in her talons. Her wings desperately flapped and sweat poured down her face in buckets. She eventually was able to set the massive cup in front of Gahiji. The harpy wheezed and panted, “One... dragon-sized... Peach-Mango-Pomegranate Twister Smoothie... With a Ghee shot...” She gave one last wheeze, “And Hibiscus syrup..!” She keeled over, her talons twitching in the air next to the table.

Silveste and Gahiji looked at the poor creature for a while before Silveste cleared his throat and when Blancher and Bruner walked over, he nodded his head in the harpy's direction.

The donkeys hefted the unconscious harpy into their arms and carried her away. Finally, Gahiji felt comfortable enough to wrap his lips around the straw and give a slow swallow. The sphinx licked his lips and sighed, “I just... want to enjoy as many of the world's surprises as I can. And Fane flooding the condo was definitely one of them!”

Silveste couldn't help but find that woefully vague as a response. Gahiji took another sip, but the sudden flashing of his eyes choked him a little. Gahiji looked at the unicorn across from him. “A bride? Do you think you can find one in this city?”

Silveste gasped, once more taken aback by how far-reaching a sphinx's knowledge ran. “Or a groom.” Silveste hummed. He leaned against the table, “I'm not picky with who my heart decides to court. But I do need a spouse sooner rather than later.”

They continued to chat. The company and their drinks providing enough of a blanket that they didn't notice the pitiful body slumped up against the main counter of the smoothie bar.

A Maneki-Neko. His fur was sleek and pearl-like and his eyes shined like aged candies floating deep in scented coat pockets.

The Maneki-Neko's tail curled and twisted around the stool he was sitting on as he licked at the sticky remains of the cup closest to him.

“Not to be a bother,” Said the woman who owned the smoothie bar, “But I think you may have had enough.”

The Maneki-Neko lifted his heavy head. He blinked up at her, miserable all the while, and batted a paw at the bell on his neck. It chimed like the welcoming bells of Heaven's highest-reviewed salon.

Immediately, a young man walked over and stuck two hundred-dollar bills into the tip jar.

Just as abruptly as he came, he was out the door. The owner of the smoothie bar blinked at the more-than-generous tip before bowing out. “Did I say 'enough'? I meant 'take your sweet time, you incredible creature'!”

The Maneki-Neko frowned. He pushed away his empty cup and tapped the counter. They couldn't take too long to make another one of his smoothies: they were literally just yogurt, condensed milk, vanilla bean, and a splash of fish oil!

Gahiji finished off the rest of his own smoothie. He opted to do a bit of people and nonhuman watching while Silveste was having Bruner text a message to his parents.

Humans... Elves... Oh, a water elemental. They were pretty far outside of Aquacia...

Then he noticed the Maneki-Neko at the counter. “Ooh!”

The Maneki-Neko yowled when Gahiji stretched his cheeks out. “Come on~!” Gahiji beamed, “No more sadness! Only joy now!”

When Gahiji removed his paws, the Maneki-Neko had to readjust his jaw. He glared up at the sphinx until Silveste walked over. “Is he deranged?” The Maneki-Neko rubbed at his face.

“He's a joy,” Silveste replied. He cleared his throat and stood proud. “I am Prince Silveste Winterdust.”

“And my name's Gahiji!” Gahiji said, “What's your name?”

“Oh, does it even matter?” The Maneki-Neko groaned. He seized his latest smoothie when it was brought over. “What does anything matter when you're going to end up cold and alone in this miserable world~!” He took a quick sip and continued, “I open my heart up and I get shat on every. Single. Time!”

The Maneki-Neko slumped over the counter, sobbing in those ugly tears that made everyone in a room feel horrendously awkward.

“Bad Breakup?” Blancher asked, hastily drinking the leftovers at the table.

“Bad Breakup.” Bruner confirmed, eating the remaining crumbs.

“Aw...” Gahiji bounced to the Maneki-Neko's side, “Everyone has their bad choices! You just have to stand up, keep the good times in mind, and think about what you want for your next relationship!”

There was chuckling.

Cold, mirthless... “My name's Eito.” The Maneki-Neko said, “And that whole song and dance you just talked about? Yeah, try keeping up that optimism when you're 57 and 0!”

Silveste's grimace was almost comical. “Fifty-seven lovers?” He whispered, “I can't even locate and make acquisitions for a part-time paramour!”

Eito sat up and drank more of his smoothie. The small TV propped up in the corner of the smoothie-bar flashed on, a clown news reporter was honking away about the recent tragic death of a young up-and-coming dancer.

“So sad,” Gahiji frowned a bit, “Taken away so soon. And by such a big truck.”

“Psh!”

Gahiji and Silveste looked to see Eito finishing off his last smoothie. “Asshole deserved it.”

“Wait,” Silveste tapped his hoof to his chin, “You did this? But, how? You are a creature of beneficial luck and circumstances!”

Eito shook his head, lips curling into a smirk, “You think I could run the lottery if everyone had good luck?” He batted at the bell on his collar, “Just being in my vicinity can give people good luck. Or, if they piss me off, bad luck. The bell here is a bit of a conduit.”

“But why would you,” Gahiji rolled a paw in the air, “Do a thing like that?”

Eito turned around on his stool. “I'm a simple creature, guys. I just want to be able to go home to someone who has as much love in their heart for me as I have for them. And how do you think it makes me feel when every. Last. One of them only wanted to fuck me for my Good Luck?!”

Gahiji finally sat down on one side of Eito, Silveste on the other. “Well...” Silveste hummed, “Perhaps you could try... not sleeping with every guy you fall in love with?”

Eito's face twisted into a grimace. “Those words that you're saying,” He wondered, “Can you combine them into a sentence like you're doing?”

“Yes!” Silveste neighed in exasperation, “Yes! You can! Maybe you should make an honest attempt at it!”

Eito licked at his paw and gently cleaned his face. “But how do you even show love in a relationship outside of sex?”

“Well!” Gahiji bounced to the left, “You get each other flowers!” He hopped up and jumped in place for a minute. “Oh, or you make the other's favorite meal after a long day at work!”

Eito pouted. “That seems harder than saying 'I Love You' and having sex.”

“But, I mean,” Silveste cleared his throat, “Love isn't easy. Love, divided into the four mighty houses: Phileo, Agape, Storge, and Eros.” He reared back and placed his front hooves on an empty stool, “All bearing their own trials and tribulations! All influential in the lives of creatures of nonhuman and human affiliations! The truest of loves are finding one whose life accepts you with an intricate but yielding mesh of compromise, understanding, romance, and--”

“Oh!” Eito shoved his way between Gahiji and Silveste to get a better look at the dashing young man who had come into the smoothie-bar. “Who's that good-looking side of Peking Duck over there?”

“Now, Eito,” Silveste tried to calm the Maneki-Neko down, “Remember what we talked about: think more about what you want in a lover--”

By this point, however, the Maneki-Neko already had hearts in his eyes and was hanging on every word that the human said.

“So... You're that Lucky Cat, right?”

“Mm-hm?” Eito snuggled into his chest.

“Yeah, you run the lottery and stuff, right?”

“But of course...” Eito purred. He wrapped his tail around the human's waist, “How about... we go back to my place and, you know? Knock paws and boots?”

Before they could stop him, Eito had already gone off with his latest hope at 'true love'. 

When the Lucky Cat and the poor sod were gone, Gahiji hummed, "The Ancients had a phrase for what ails him. 'Love-Scratched'." 

"I don't imagine that there's an active cure for it." Silveste asked. 

Sure enough, Gahiji shook his head, "Nothing outside of growing up will fix that. Anyway~" He started pushing the unicorn prince out of the smoothie bar, "Come on, come on! Let's go do something! Like ride a train, or visit ShimmerGale, or even..!"  

9: The Story of Delta-759

Even when the computer that hosted him was shut down or hibernating, he still had a small bit of consciousness.

Words said around him could be taken in in clips and gasps.

A crisp exhale of breath formed slight bytes that formed in the sterile space around his jaws.

“... maybe I could... make a copy... strip the code down...”

His human... He was talking to someone that he couldn't see from his blacked-out domain. His eyes did open, though: fading in from darkness to a low hum of pale blue binary code.

The beast in the darkness lifted his titanic form and waited. Not too much longer.

A series of clicks. Four keys in particular. The light washed over him: a warm wave growing up from the sterile darkness and illuminating a forest of winding code and pulsing circuits.

The lights grew brighter, causing the creature's iridescent scales to react. They shifted color, blue against black, turquoise against black, with every step he took.

“Delta-759?”

The draconian beast's glowing eyes blinked. He turned and lumbered after the echoing voice. “Delta-759, you in there?”

Delta-759 followed onward, He passed several shifts in RGB lighting, revealing an engraving of the Delta symbol on the bones folded against his back.

Delta-759 recoiled when a window of light appeared in front of him. There was a young man on the other side. You could tell from the bags poorly hidden behind his glasses and the cup of coffee quivering in his grip that he hadn't seen a bed in several days.

“Mateo.” Delta-759 rumbled, “I could hear you talking from all the way in here.”

***

“Can you blame me?” Mateo took another sip of coffee. He made a leisurely pace back and forth in front of a wall-to-wall flat-screen monitor, the digital dragon looking in from the other side. “All the coding, the debugging, the Q and A...”

“The worst-case scenarios,” Delta-759 puffed out, “The bruises, the sleepless nights – Look at you, Mateo!”

Mateo did a slight roll of the eyes before Delta-759 added, “You're exhausted! You need to take a knee and get some rest.”

“After!” Mateo downed the rest of his coffee, “Today's test! Delta-759, we're so close. After today, we can get the government off of our backs, get our money, and go off the map. You and me...”

Mateo stepped close. He pressed his hand to the screen, eyes imploring.

Delta-759 breathed out, long and hard: the crisp air flaring his nostrils. Delta-759 lifted one of his own paws and set it against the window in front of him.

“Finally together.” Mateo offered.

“Finally together.” Delta-759 sighed.

***

Mateo typed at his keyboard in rapid sweeps and swings. “Initializing Final Test for Project '759 – Here There Be'.”

Inside of his cybernetic forest, Delta-759 stepped towards the bough of a cliff of glass.

He dipped his head out of the way of two package-laden lights zipping past. Delta-759 didn't want to do this. But he needed to.

***

This was it. Mateo glanced at the three locked files on his desktop background. Three efforts. Three heartbreaks. Three failures.

They wouldn't let those sacrifices be in vain.

***

They would learn from those who had passed. Delta-759 felt the whip-like winds from the abyss beneath him. Crisp like an ocean; bubbling, churning.

***

“Alright,” Mateo started the screen and event recorders, “Delta-759, you ready?”

***

Delta-759 rolled his shoulders. The bones on his back lifted and spread, a gossamer webbing of light growing between them. “Initializing Phase 1.” Delta-759 let the sounds of the ceaseless current of information take him in. Chiming glass and spiraling chirps.

Delta-759 stepped back.

“Godspeed.” Mateo's voice rippled into his ear. Delta-759 bolted forward, leaping off the cliff and letting himself plummet. Plummet into the information stream.

He dove in with a crash but his body went on auto-pilot: swimming with the current.

Delta-759 extended his left wing, his trajectory shifting.

***

“How are you feeling, Delta?” Mateo asked. He jotted down the time and looked at the recorder to see how long they had been at this.

“To tell the truth,” Delta-759 chuckled, “It's great! The wings are handling excellently and my scales are substantial enough. The data stream isn't slicing through me at all.”

Mateo jotted down some notes. “Okay, try to increase your speed. Let's try by several knots.”

“Oh,” Delta-759, “I think I saw something about knots speed by--”

“Wrong knots!” Mateo sputtered out, “Wrong knots!!”

Delta-759 chuckled but got back to business. He whipped his tail, the increasing spires gleaming until, with a click and a whip, Delta-759's speed increased thrice-fold. The dragon dipped over exchanging emails, threaded the needle through uploading videos, and skated past salacious sites of ill-repute.

***

“Alright Delta,” Mateo typed up the command for the next part of the test. “How confident are you feeling right now?”

“I don't know.” Said Delta-759 with a grin, “What do you have in mind?”

***

Delta-759 got his answer just as he was going to make a turn into the rivulet of stocks. He saw a floating package that shined like Sunday mornings and flew right over. Delta-759 didn't grab it immediately, though. He flew a lazy circle around the package of data. His eyes performed a preliminary scan on it for any security measures.

He finally grabbed the package and announced to Mateo, “Initializing Phase 2.” Delta-759 flapped his wings and dived back into the main current.

***

This would be the heft of the test: the part that had Mateo gnawing his pencil to an early grave.

Going in was easy.

Coming back with something was the hard part.

“Keep an eye out, Delta...” He told the dragon.

***

Delta-759 nodded, following the information current into a forest of angry red spires.

This digital parody of a coral forest meant that he was in a more secure area: a place where people actually cared about their information.

Delta-759 stayed quiet and moved on.

He passed a particularly large spire: lights streaking up into the unknown and down into the deep but didn't stay long.

So he missed the ghostly pale face: the sunken in pools of darkness that were its eyes, the grimace on its face that promised only an unyielding hunger.

This miserable creature struggled down a wheezing breath and slithered through the digital current. It's slinking form kept to the shadows of the the spires.

ThepackageThepackage.Notsecure.InsideInsideInside.Wantit!Inside!Thepackage!Infect!Want!Infect!Want!Inside!ThePackage!ThePackage!MIIINNNE!!

Delta-759 hung a rapid right, dodging out of the way of rotten teeth that snarled and snapped.

“Delta-759?” Mateo leaned forward, furrowing his brow. “Delta, what's going on?” The video feed was always muddled in the deeper parts, so all he could rely on was audio.

A croupy snarl pierced through his headset, forcing him to pull it away. “Delta?!”

***

Delta-759 ducked out of the way of the infected creature's attack. This wasn't part of the plan. He wasn't ready for something like this. The dragon panted, already exhausted.

The infected creature lunged forward and knocked Delta-759 off balance. “MATE--!”

The sickly creature, like a bullet, like the slimiest little worm, shot through the digital flow.

Delta-759 shook himself back to his senses. Like a sailor fighting the seas, he reached down within and pulled with little strength he could find. His claws drawn, he drew back--

He faced an abyss known only to the most depraved of creatures: spindling spires of teeth laced the edges of a foul, cavernous maw that encompassed Delta-759 and the space all around him.

All the dragon could do was watch as the miserable mouth crawled forward and swallowed him whole; it's jaws closing in a cruel 'crack'.

***

Mateo felt his heart plummet: beating and screaming all the way down. “Delta-759!! Delta!!” He frantically typed in every variation of 'End Project' and 'Escape' he could think of. He even tried 'Ctrl-Alt-Dlt'-ing several times but he still wasn't getting a response. “No... No, no!!”

This wasn't happening. How could this be happening?! They had been so careful; he had predicted every. Single. Scenario!

“Delta-759, come on!” Mateo pulled at his hair. He was trying to pull out some kind of solution that he hadn't thought of.

But then.

The screen.

Went white.

Not an eggshell, not a pearl. But a grim, ghastly white.

Mateo adjusted his glasses, “What?” He tried to run his antivirus but his whole set-up had been locked. From his main computer to his television... Mateo spared a glance to the massive platform a few feet away. No, he hadn't allowed the computer any access to that yet, it couldn't--

“M-minemy-5476#@#!mi-mine-my-mi-mi N-647-no-now-now665667NOW!”

The unholy din of glitches and beeps was corrupting what sounded very similar to Delta-759's voice-bank. But Mateo knew better. Damn his sinking, shattering heart; he knew better!

Mateo lowered the volume on his headphones and spoke into the mic. “Where. Is. My dragon?”

He winced but didn't back down when his eventual response was:

“M-mine-mymymymy-1717171—HAHAHA-MYMYMINE--%$^%PACKAGEWORTHLESS!MYMYMYDATA###NEWDATA!

“Where the hell is Delta-759?!” Mateo shouted. “Answer me you glitchy piece of shit!!”

The platform in the room whirred to life. The laptop next to it turned on, the sole script on it pouring down the screen as it initiated a new program. A program that, after so many hours pored over it, now had Mateo's blood running frigid.

“That...” He shook his head, standing and sending his chair spinning back, “That can't be happening. Only I have the passwords to access that program, you can't...”

“HAHAHAHAHA!”

The infected remains of Delta-759's voice-bank screamed,

“PASSWORDS: DELTADRAGON!DELTADRAGOON!CAMELOT!”

Mateo jumped into action. Even as he reached the laptop that was causing the platform to shine brighter and brighter, the lights were winding and twisting: swallowing down matter and taking on physical shape.

“No, no, no!” Mateo hissed as every firewall he put up was shattered or extinguished by a warping of one of the passwords that the infection had data-mined for.

Two more firewalls went down.

“D-D-DELTA-TA-TAANDMATE-o-O-o000%#%#%-O!”

The antivirus was soon overwhelmed.

“NEW!NEW!DATA!7&7w96&&&!!!!5%5%%MYMYMY--”

“FUCK!” A surge of electricity from the laptop seized Mateo and flung him across the room. He couldn't move; the impact, the electricity, they had left him numb. All he could do was watch as the virus, a stealthy behemoth of one, overwhelmed all of his computers one by one; the laptop beginning to overheat with how much data was being run through.

Mateo was helpless. He seethed through the pain, not only in his body but also in his mind and heart. Delta-759... He had betrayed someone he cared about again.

The platform kept building upon the physical weight of the lights it gathered. Soon the gnarled and twisted form couldn't even fit upon it, but still it grew.

Larger and larger.

Mateo saw those eyes, formerly beautiful blue pools of code, now writhing orbs of malignant errors. “Delta...” Mateo rasped out, his words punctuated by wet coughs, “759...”

The beast threw its warped head back and let the skies and air above suffer its corrupted roar.

 

“Data.

Mine now.

More Data.

Mine.

It will be mine.

Mine. Now.

Now.

Forever.”

***

Zach stood next to Mira inside of a small electronics shop located two streets over. “What about this one?” He pointed to an impressive-looking computer set-up.

The disgust upon Mira's face dripped down like bacon-fat. “You're shitting me, right? This hunk of crap isn't anywhere near my old rig's stats! Besides,” He pouted and folded his arms, “I need a laptop, not a PC. Where would I even keep this glorified doorstop anyway?!”

“Can you not be a prick about this?” Zach asked, face as impassive as was the norm. “I am trying to help you. Actually, can I ask: why are you out here if you're just going to complain?”

“Pegasus Parcel doesn't have Same-Day Shipping for all of the parts I need. I thought I'd buy local, buuut...” He turned around in his chest and addressed the shop-owner, “Your selection is shit~! You hear me? SHIT~!”

“And we go now.” Zach hefted Mira inside of the modified stroller that Mira had offered upon hearing that Zach was going out to replace his rig.

Mira only smirked and shrugged when he heard the angry shop-owner shouting about how they were banned. “Like I'd want to come back any way.”

Zach sighed, looking up as he pushed Mira along. It was a nice afternoon: not too late as the sky had gained an orange hue, but not too early as to bring about cries of 'High Noon'.

Mira was looking around, far too used to being chauffeured around like this, and saw that they were about to pass a bistro. “Hey! Stop here, I'm hungry!”

“Do you have money?” Zach asked.

Mira pouted, looking all the part of a stubborn brat. “I paid rent, didn't I?”

Zach shook his head and pushed Mira inside. They were quickly offered seats at the counter and Zach took the soonest opportunity to sit down.

After making sure that Mira was close enough to the counter to see what he wanted.

God, it felt like he was baby-sitting a toddler. Outside of the drooling tongue filling the treasure chest and the vicious teeth, Mira filled the role exactly.

Which could have meant that Mira didn't fill the role at all.

Mira skimmed over the menu before calling out to the server, “Oy~! Cabron~! Give me the spiciest empanadas you can make~!”

The server clenched his fist and carved the order into the notepad he had before giving Zach his best smile. “And for you?”

“Can I just have a glass of water?” Zach asked, “Oh, actually...” He skimmed through the menu for a bit. May as well get his energy up before pushing Mira back home.

Mira piped out, “Hey, get us a bottle of tequila t-- Whoa, hey!” He shrieked when his chest was shoved aside.

Zach watched a strange newcomer move like a man possessed. He fumbled with plugging in his laptop-charger, he slammed said laptop on the counter and nearly tore off the screen in his haste.

“Come on, come on, come on..!” He seethed, eyes scanning through the screen in shaky motions.

It was just getting too weird. And Zach currently shared a home with a sphinx, a unicorn, a wendigo, and God could only count what else at this point, so he would know full well what constituted as 'weird'.

He reached out to nudge the guy on the shoulder, noting the name-tag on his lanyard that read 'Mateo'. Mateo recoiled back, eyes wide and frantic. “What? What is it?!”

“Easy.” Zach took his hand back, “Just trying to see what's going on.”

“Well, I don't have the time to talk!” Mateo snapped. But Mira was not one to let things slide.

“Hey! Dickhead!!” Mira shouted, “Are we going to have a problem or what?!”

“Can you guys just fuck off for a sec?” Mateo grit his teeth and clicked on one stream. Nothing. Then another. Nothing again.

“No!” Mira was seething now, the eye in his chest glaring and shining particularly bright. “No, buddy, you're shit out of luck if you think I'm just going to 'fuck o--'”

Everything in the bistro lurched three feet to the left: a massive roar echoing up from the ground and piercing through every digital screen.

“Wha...” Mira's second tongue extended from his chest and righted him back up, “What the hell was that?”

Zach got up. After checking that nothing was broken, he saw Mateo pulling at his hair. “Where are you?” He choked when Zach turned him around.

“Listen.” Zach said, holding Mateo with a bit more strength than necessary, “I just want to know if whatever you're messing with is going to make me have to find a detour home.”

“Look, buddy!” Mateo stood up, forcing Zach's hand, “I have a life-or-death situation going here! So if you could just fuck off for a sec--”

That glitching din of a roar filled the air once more.

Mira looked around, his voice wavering the smallest amount, “What is that?”

“Delta-759!!” Mateo called out. He grabbed his laptop and ran out of the bistro before any of the bistro staff could stop him.

Zach knew he should have just left well enough alone.

But he did have to get Mira home.

He jogged outside just to stop dead in his tracks: looking up in the same direction that Mateo was.

“Don't just leave me here!” Mira pulled himself up into his stroller and used his tongue to move towards the door. “Listen, I'll just wait for Pegasus Parcel. Let's get the hell out of here and...” Mira's words trailed off when he finally looked up. “Holy Quetzalcoatl...”

Delta-759 loomed over them: the virus's influence causing his once-proud body to bloat and stretch. A miasma of infection wafted between the wriggling snakes that were his teeth. His wings constantly shattered and rebuilt themselves, the broken pieces falling to the ground and piercing cars and buildings when they made impact.

And those writhing eyes. They rolled around in the dragon's skull, the virus looking for the next succulent piece of 'data' to devour.

The writing eyes swiveled down and saw Mateo, Zach, and Mira.

Delta-759 roared and surged down.

10: The Demise of Delta-759

Zach pulled Mateo and pushed Mira out of the way, his own feet scuffing the tip of one of Delta-759's scales as the dragon crashed into the bistro.

Delta-759 thrashed and coiled. His feverish brain couldn't make heads or tails of what had just happened, so Zach took the window of opportunity to get as far away from the creature as possible.

“Delta-759...”

Zach turned to see Mateo. He was regarding the dragon with such pity in his eyes, such forlorn crushing his face.

“I take it,” Zach began, “That you know that dragon?”

The abrupt, bubbling chirp of a siren interrupted whatever dialogue that was trying to bubble up.

Like the actual police siren, not the type of guys and gals who got a jolly out of wrecking ships.

Out of a nearby waterway popped two of Dama Fristad's finest. Navy blue uniforms lay clean and pressed over their breasts. Though one's hair was long and the other's tightly-curled, both of their heads were topped in decorated berets of their uniforms' hue.

Fringed ears flicked away excess water and the tails that ended their lower bodies shined as brilliant gems in the water.

“Megaphone.” One of the mermaids held her hand out to the other, a conch shell megaphone being set down. “Attention!” The first mermaid called out, “Attention! You are, like, currently in violation of Dama Fristad Ordinance D-3869!”

The mermaid police were talking but Delta-759 wasn't listening. His jaws snapped shut around the main register of the restaurant, swallowing it and the surrounding debris: the weight of it a visible bulge as it slid down his throat. “Please cease your actions and turn yourself in or else, like, totally risk physical retaliation!”

Delta-759 jerked and twitched. His body contorted until he was facing the police officers.

The air had no time to grow tense. Delta-759 lashed his tail at the mermaid police, throwing them into the wall of a nearby building.

“Delta-759, stop!” Mateo jumped up and ran to the dragon. He grabbed his laptop and rapped his fingers on the keys. “Come on, where's an antivirus strong enough to--”

Delta-759 snarled and beat his wings. Once, twice, and into the air he went: slicing through the air like a vicious storm front.

“Crap...” Mateo removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. A slick length wrapped around his stomach and pulled him where Zach was standing next to Mira.

Mira let go of Mateo and shut himself. He opened back up, cherubic face glaring up at the human. “You must have the world's shittiest Firewall/Antivirus software.”

Mateo pulled his arm back and curled his fingers into a fist. “Shut the hell up!”

Mira flinched and shut his eyes, body tensing up for the hit.

The hit that never came.

Mira slowly opened his eyes. He had to blink at what he was seeing, but he was, in fact, seeing it.

Zach was holding Mateo's arm in place: right in the middle of its path towards his face. “Let go of me!!” Mateo screamed.

“No.” Zach deadpanned out, “Not until you calm down and tell me what all of that was about.”

“Ha!” Mateo barked out. “You really think I'm going to just spill out my business for some rando on the street?” When Zach didn't let go – Jesus and Mary this guy was stronger than his boring expression let on – Mateo began slinging everything he could think of. “For all I know you could be some kind of Russian spy, or you could working for some terrorist cell--”

Zach jerked a thumb towards the street. “I'm just trying to find out if I'm going to be able to catch the A9 home.” He poked Mira's pouty face right in the cheek, “Carrying this guy around is building up to some serious back-problems.”

Mateo's face burned. His skin was throbbing, he was so upset.

But he took a deep breath. A little of the fire flickered out. Another deep breath and Zach finally let him go.

Mateo rubbed the sore part of his arm. Who the hell did this asshole think he was? Him and his stupid little Mimic fuckbuddy.

“Delta.” He cleared his throat, “Delta-759 is my... My friend.”

“Just a friend?” Mira folded his arms, the eye in the back of his chest lifting an eyebrow.

Mateo clicked his tongue. “More than just a friend, fine! Delta's been with me since the day he was born.”

“He's a dragon.” Zach said, “And not too small either, how is that possible?”

“God..!” Mateo groaned, “I made him, okay?! I'm a software programmer. I built and cultivated Delta-759 from the ground up. Piece by piece, byte by byte.”

“A virtual dragon?” Mira looked over to where the staff of the bistro was trying to make heads or tails of the restaurant rubble.

Mateo shook his head, “Don't insult me. Delta-759 is way more than just a 'virtual dragon'.” He was doing his best to ignore how he could hear how Delta-759's roars carried on the wind. “Project 759. My first commission. Can you imagine it?” He looked down at his laptop: the wifi signal far fainter than what it usually was in this part of town. “Perfect internet surveillance. No chances of hacking, illegal sales, torrenting... All gone when there's a living, breathing entity eyeing every single action made online.”

“Wow.” Zach wondered if he should go help the bistro staff, “That sounds--”

“Fucking awful.” Mira interrupted. “What kind of naive bull – Wait,” He interrupted himself, “Who commissioned you?”

“That's classified!”

“A government job?” Mira scoffed, “Really? You expect a bunch of human gringos to be trustworthy when it comes to controlling the internet? They can't even decide whether or not its a universal right.”

Mira took a moment to glance at the person reading this right now.

Then he went back to the conversation at hand. “If anything, this just tells you that you were doing something stupid, stupid!”

“Look, I've already sunk years of development time into this!” Mateo turned away, “I've failed too many times to let this end like this...”

***

“Alpha-759!” Mateo screamed, horrified at the convulsing dragon on his screen. He had uploaded too much information too fast; her scales popping up from her overheated body. Mateo was forced to pull his headphones away. He couldn't bear the sounds of Alpha-759 screaming... roaring in agony.

***

Beta-759 swam through the Internet. It was a normal routine expedition to see if the wings Mateo had coded were enough to support a dragon while still allowing mobility.

“Veer left, Beta-759,” Mateo ordered into his headset.

Beta-759 nodded and extended one of his gossamer wings out. He wanted to gradually change his direction, to ease into it.

A zip file zipped by, crashing into his wing and shattering it on impact.

“Mateo!” Beta-759 flapped his remaining wing, his body plunging into the dark abyss. “Mateo, help me! Stop the simulation and help me..!”

“I...” Mateo swallowed. “I can't...”

“MATEO..!!” Beta-759 screams echoed, even as his code was torn apart by the darkest parts of the internet.

***

Gamma-759.

It had to be Gamma-759.

… It just had to be Gamma-759.

Mateo watched the slim dragon on the screen sift through a constant stream of information.

Message boards were what they had been looking through. His clients had expressed an interest in being able to screen every message put onto any message board at any time.

Gamma-759 had the propensity, now it was just a matter of seeing him action.

48 hours of action.

Well, to be frank, Gamma-759 only made it 36 hours. The dragon pulled away from the window to the message feed. He thrashed and rolled on the ground, heaving and baying out.

“Gamma-759, what the hell is wrong with you?” Mateo called out, “Gamma-759!”

Gamma-759 was already gone. His mind burned down to the numb from the constant flow of inane, spiteful, circling information.

Mateo watched the dragon hurl himself up against the nearest tree: cracking his skull against it over.

And over.

“Damn it!” Mateo held his head, his other curses under his breath.

How had he managed to create a dragon with such a fragile mind?

How had he failed so many times over?

***

Mateo opened his eyes. “I have to fix this. Delta-759 is my latest chance at making this work.”

“What I'm not getting,” Zach began, “Is how your friend is out here if he's just a program.”

The brief softening of Mateo's eyes would have been missed by most. But not Mira.

“He wanted to be real.” Mira said, “Didn't he? He wanted to be with you.”

Mateo chuckled. It was sad but it still was a chuckle. “I only got this commission because of my first project. A machine to bring virtual objects to the real world. Delta-759, he... He means a lot to me. I promised,” He took a breath, looking away. “I promised him that after this project, after the last of the tests, we could be toge--”

“Piece of shit.”

Mateo stopped right then and there. “Excuse me?”

Mira grit his teeth, the eye in the back of his chest burning in his anger, “You're the worst kind of human. Did you – did you even care about what happened to him?!”

“Don't talk about me like you know me!” Was Mateo's retort, “I care about him more than I've cared about anything in my life!”

Mira wasn't convinced. “Okay.” Mira said, tilting his head; hair falling into his eyes, “Okay. If you care so much about him, tell me: what were you planning to do after you got your money?”

Mateo choked on his breath. “What... what are you,” He huffed, left eye twitching, “I was going to bring Delta-759 t-to the physical world and we were going to live together.”

Zach hated where this was going. This kid was a terrible liar.

“Cut the crap, kid!” Mira said and this whole while he was beginning to sound like his true age: a far cry from his cherubic cheeks and filthy mouth. “You didn't care! You just fucked with someone's life for money! Just like every other fucking human from the beginning of time!”

There was something else behind these words. Zach took another look at Mira. The Mimic was trembling, his breathing harsh and heated. “You fucked up! And the worst thing is that you don't care! Humans never care!!”

***

“Mi..ra..?”

“Yes, my prince? I'm here, alright? I'm here.”

“It's so hot... Where's Papa?”

“Shh, little one. You need your rest.”

***

“Mira.” Zach tried to stop him.

“All you guys do is use and take and you never think about who you're hurting!” Mira trailed off in a ragged shout, “Zach, take me home! I can't look at this piece of shit anymore!”

Zach waited a moment. He wasn't going to let Mira think he was in control here. He eventually walked past a stupefied Mateo. Zach grabbed the handles of Mira's stroller and before he started pushing, he had to say one thing.

“I hope your friend... Delta... Still has whatever image of you he had in his mind. It can only be better than what I'm seeing right now.”

***

By that point, the two mermaid officers who were flung aside had been roused into wakefulness by their Oct-0 Units. “Ugh, what the hell happened?” One of the officers groaned.

“Like, I haven't felt this bad since the massive hangover I got from Uncle Siklon's last birthday.”

The first mermaid pushed her cephalopod away and snatched up 2-way radio she had clipped to her hip.

“Time to get some backup on this.” She said, wincing as another building was attacked.

***

“Attention all available units!”

Up in the skies above Dama Fristad, out of sight of the tallest buildings and just below where El Doradus would be floating through normally.

“Attention all available units!” A small dispatch radio squawked out from its perch upon a pink, scaley hip.

“We have a hostile assailant! Code D-3869! I repeat: a hostile D-3869!” A body of melting and building flame flapped his wings.

“Can anyone who is available come and, like, help out or something?!”  

The fiery wings flapped again, a voice singing out, “Hm... D-3869? Which one was that again?”

“Oy vey,” Pink wings flapped and rose claws pedaled through the skies, “How did you even get through the Academy?”

“I had my ways.” A golden beak smirked, ruby eyes rolling.

“D-3869.”

The two bickering voices ceased in the presence of one more. Calmer, more reserved.

“'Unauthorized Draconic Rampage'.” A pair of massive raven's wings, feather a glossy black, picked up speed. “Let's go!”

***

Delta-759's writhing teeth ripped through the signal towers near the center of town. By this point, humans and nonhuman alike had heard and seen the destruction coming their way.

Two mermaid officers who were actually covering security duty near the Lady of Acceptance statue took aim and fired at the approaching dragon.

The paralysis darts either bounced off of Delta-759's hide or sank into his rotting flesh. “Like, what the hell kind of dragon is this anyway?!” One of the mermaid officers shouted, the two of them diving into the waterway to avoid the lashing of Delta-759's tail.

An old dragon who was down from El Doradus shopping for her niece's upcoming Bat Mitzvah took a step forward. “Ay, bubbala... Stop this nonsense, you're making your ancestors weep...”

Delta-759 whipped his head around. He spread his wings and began charging at the old dragon, anguished cries flooding out from the bystanders.

A sonic boom cracked the air, two smaller ones following soon after. Delta-759 turned away from his first target. He snarled at the sight of flaming wings, pink scales, and black feathers: all dressed in the same uniforms as the mermaids, just with more medals pinned upon the fabric. Of course, modifications for each body were needed. Say, for a dragon's physique the best mode of dress would be a zip-up vest with a matching belt for her equipment. A Phoenix, on the other hand, would have a modified cap and cuffs around his ankles. And for the shining star of the Dama Fristad police force?

A young Karasu-tengu barely breaking 23 years but already a captain of his own squadron? His uniform was the most complete: a full-set with his medals pinned upon the scarf that trailed behind him. His large wings of ink-black feathers kept him floating in the air: a safe distance from Delta-759 but still in the dragon's sight.

“Attention.” The Karasu-tengu announced, “My name is Captain Oshiro.” A shift in the wind made the scarf flutter to the left. The name 'Oshiro' was embroidered upon it. “I'm here in front of you with my fellow members of the Dama Fristad Police Force. Lieutenant Officer Gasko.” The pink dragon nodded. “And Inspector Officer Ruan.” The Phoenix gave a quick salute. Captain Oshiro continued. “Your actions today have resulted in thousands of dollars in damages as well as the cessation of commerce and the endangerment of citizens. You are currently in violation of Ordinance D-3869, as well as the refusal of arrest.”

Captain Oshiro lowered his voice a fraction. “Will you stand down? Or risk physical retaliation?”

Delta-759 roared in their direction. His wriggling teeth shook and a bubble of fetid breath rose up from his throat.

Captain Oshiro slowly inhaled.

Exhale.

“You have the right to remain silent.” He said, “Anything you say or do will be held against you in the eyes of our Lady of Acceptance: Dama Fristad.”

Delta-759 belched out a wave of his toxic breath. Oshiro, Gasko, and Ruan shot out of the way. As fast as the mermaid officers were in the water, the three of them shattered those speeds when it came to the air.

Ruan let out a shriek, his body enveloping in boiling flames. He made a beeline into the toxic fumes. They lit up in a rainbow of fire and, with a flap of Inspector Ruan's wings, the remnants of the fumes vanished.

Lieutenant Gasko roared as she pedaled her claws through the air, her wings pushing her forward. Delta-759 lashed out with his tail, but Gasko ducked right; she weaved left. “Fercockt little baby...” She growled, seizing the middle portion of Delta-759's tail.

“ERROR!” Delta-759's voice crackled out, “MALF-F-F-55522220101010-FUNCTION!!”

Gasko landed on the ground. Her claws extended and dug into the ground with an audible crunch. It was time to put her upper-body strength to work.

Lieutenant Gasko pulled her head back, muscles tensing under her scales. She lifted Delta-759 up by the hindquarters and flung him into a nearby building.

“I hope the chief can write that off as an expense!” Inspector Ruan whistled out.

Gasko rolled her eyes, “Focus on your job, goyim!”

Captain Oshiro landed on the debris that was once the street. They weren't done yet. Not by a mile.

Delta-759 surged out from the ruined building. He was gnashing his teeth; his mind gone in rage. Captain Oshiro stepped aside, allowing Delta-759 to trip over his own feet. Captain Oshiro was about to get into the fray when his earpiece buzzed. “Yes, Chief? … Of course. ... Yes, I understand. … Right.” He looked upon the diseased dragon, grimacing at how his flesh was beginning to slough off of his bones.

“Gasko!” He crowed out, “Ruan! The Chief just called! He said we need to stop playing around and finish this!”

“'Playing', he calls it!” Ruan shook his head. He and Gasko flew down to meet Oshiro on the ground.

Gasko stood behind Ruan as the Phoenix made a circle with his wings. Gasko took a deep breath, a warm light shining in her throat underneath her scales.

Oshiro stood behind her. He needed the best shot possible to end this without any excess casualties or damages. “Left. Two inches.”

Gasko and Ruan, in perfect unison, moved to the left to the specifications of Oshiro's measurements.

Delta-759 got back into a standing position and made to extend his decaying wings. “Anticipate a potential ascension. Adjust for optimal seven-inch upward adjustment.”

Delta-759's right wing crumpled and ripped free from his back. It landed on the ground with a squelch.

Oshiro inhaled.

Exhale.

“Strike that last direction.” He remeasured and said, “Down. Half an inch. Hold.”

Gasko was starting to feel the heat in her throat rise from the confining pressure but still, she held on. Ruan kept his arms up above him, frowning at the exertion of the pose.

“Stop!”

Gasko choked on her flames and Ruan almost fell flat on his face. Captain Oshiro looked around until he saw a human rushing in between them and the rotting dragon.

“Delta-759, enough!” Mateo yelled at the dragon whose eyes were being split open and eaten through by the worms inside. “Just stop it, okay? Don't you remember? What you wanted?”

Delta-759 jerked and twitched. “Ma-Ma-Ma-3333336666668888—Teo-0-0-0-!!&*%^*-o?!”

“Yeah.” Mateo nodded, “Yeah, it's me. Come on...” He reached into his pocket and slowly brought out a flash drive. “I need you to calm down so I can help you. Okay?”

Delta-759 coughed out, Mateo not even flinching as some of the foul-smelling ooze held fast to his clothes. “Easy... Easy...”

“No.”

Mateo blinked at the small voice. It came from Delta-759's disintegrating chest as well as the screens in an electronics store.

“Are you the virus that took Delta-759 away from me?” He asked.

“No.” The voice replied. “I am the ailment that saved him from an even worse fate.”

“What are you--”

The screens in the store lit up, showing video. Video of Mateo in his apartment, before any of this, had happened.

“Wait.” Mateo's eyes went wide. He turned away from Delta-759, “Don't play that! You can't play that!!”

In the video, Mateo was on a phone call with an unknown party. “Of course I'm not going to allow the government to be the only ones with this asset. Anyone who wants to bid high enough can get in on it. … Maybe I could, you know, make a copy and strip the code down. Alter it whenever anyone drops the cash.” The past Mateo chuckled, “Of course I'm fine with it. He's just a program. I made three failures before him, I can make a dozen successes after.”

The screens flickered off. Mateo... Well, he was torn, but guilt wasn't one of the forces pulling at him.

He hated how his meal-ticket had turned out like this, but he just couldn't find it in himself to feel awful about lying to Delta-759.

He was just a bunch of code.

The roar that rent the skies was more violent than all the ones before. Mateo couldn't move.

Even as the ground began to quake and tremble, Delta-759 dragging his crumpling body towards the human.

Mateo couldn't move.

“Ma-Ma-Mat-Te-Te-Te-OOOO!” Delta-759 called out. His claws tore away from his feet but he moved on.

“MATEO!!!”

Delta-759 roared, opening his mouth wide enough that the jaw disconnected from his head.

“Fire.” Captain Oshiro ordered. Lieutenant Gasko finally breathed out the plumes of flame in her throat. Inspector Ruan let the flames gather behind his wings until they were in one place. He tightened the circle, the flames concentrated into a single bolt. It shot forward and through Delta-759's chest. The remains of Delta-759 shattered like thin glass: the sound echoing longer than Delta-759's final words.

Watching the shattering remains of Delta-759 rain against the ground, something inside of him broke.

“All my work. Everything.” He slammed his fist against the ground. “ALL OF IT'S GONE!!”

To make matters worse, he felt the cold bite of cuffs against one of his wrists. Mateo turned around just as his other hand was forced into the same cuffs.

“You're under arrest.” A mermaid officer told him.

“What?!” Mateo shouted, “You can't – Let go of me! Let go, I need to get started on another dragon! Let go!!”

“What a miserable meshuganah...” Gasko rubbed at her sore throat, “Geez, I'm going to have to nurse this when I get home.”

“He knew.”

Gasko and Ruan looked away from the mermaid officers escorting Mateo away and back to Oshiro. “What was that?” Gasko asked.

“The other dragon, Delta-759,” Oshiro explained, “He knew. He probably just didn't want to come to terms with it.”

Ruan shook his head. “This whole thing has just left me feeling dirty.” Oshiro could concur.

“You two head on back to the station for the debriefing. I'll join you guys after I make sure everything is okay here.” The dragon and the phoenix flew off. Captain Oshiro waited until they had passed the horizon. He reached into his back pocket and brought out his cellphone.

He pressed the first contact on it and pressed it to his ear.

“H-hi. Are you busy? … No, no. Everything's clear here. I just.” He inhaled.

Exhale.

 

“I just wanted to hear your voice.”

11: Silas's First Day of School

'Flash-roasted Arabica beans. Goat milk infused with Ciguapa-harvested vanilla. Dragonfire cinnamon. Steep everything together in a stainless steel saucepan for thirty-minutes to the dot. Not a moment less; not a moment more.'

Silas grabbed the saucepan's handle and set it upon the waiting towel on the counter.

A bowl of scalding water was waiting for Silas, so he grabbed a smaller bowl and set it on top. Into it he added gradual amounts of sugar, sweet cream, and dark cacao.

The earthy tones melted into one another, Silas combining them until they became a smooth cream. Silas folded the sweet mixture into the bitter one spoonful at a time. Finally, he poured a steaming cup of the decadent and set it in front of Abelard; the wendigo sitting at the table.

Abelard took the cup, allowed the melody of scents to flood his senses. He took a sip. “Hm.” He took another. Silas's claws nearly shredded his apron into a dozen pieces.

Abelard got halfway through the cup and set it down with a sigh. “Young one, that was exquisite.”

'You really think so?' Silas signed after handing over the pre-class checklist his school had given him.

Abelard gave a quick nod as he scribbled his name next to the checkbox. “The perfect combination of earthy aromatics and gentle airy flows makes for an excellent,” He had to stop and take a sip, “Cup of coffee.”

After taking the now-complete form, Silas nodded and started getting his stuff together. He grabbed his messenger bag and slipped his favorite baking sheet, measuring cup, and recipe book.

Abelard finished off his coffee, asking, “Are you sure that you won't be needing a ride to school? I'm dropping off Nephubos already, so it shouldn't be a problem.” He glanced at the couch where Nephubos was laying on their side. They had come across a sparkling pink notebook the other day when Zach had helped them with school shopping.

'Glorious pink notebook...' Nephubos reverently ran a tentacle over the notebook's surface. His eyes were wide, looking into the great beyond, 'Tell us your secrets...'

Silas shook his head. 'No, no. Thank you but I should be fine.' Silas slithered into the kitchen to grab one last thing from one of the cabinets. It was a bottle of aged vanilla extract, cultivated from the angel gardens and nourished with their tears.

Is it a bit pretentious in sound? A little, maybe. But the bottle was one of Silas's greatest treasures, so he didn't care.

'Abelard?' Silas signed, grabbing his phone and placing the bottle in his bag, 'Can you tell Zach and the others that I'll be back around 4?'

Abelard gently waved Silas off with a chuckle. “Go on, before you're late.”

Silas smiled and closed the front door behind himself.

***

Keebalah Culinary Technical Institute was an elegant mouthful located near the edge of the ShimmerGale District. So Silas decided that today would be a wonderful day to take an air-tram on his own for the first time. His mother never let him go anywhere without her, let alone anything so far off the ground like an air-tram would be.

Silas moved closer to Central Station. So much hustle and bustle. An Erymanthian Boar nearly trampled his tail in their rush to get to an arriving shuttle.

That would have been something to tell his mother. 'Oh yeah, I got my tail run over on the first day of school!' She would rush over and take him back to the nest forever.

Silas frowned at the grassy gate blocking him from the rest of the terminal. Hm... He hadn't remembered hearing anything about something like this. But... No, no; this wouldn't do. Silas had to get to school. Maybe he could...

He knelt down. Or, rather, that's what the gesture would be called if Silas had knees.

Silas moved flat on his belly and started to slither underneath the grassy bars--

“For crying out loud, kid,” The security guard on duty groaned, “Just buy a pass and come on in like a normal person!”

Silas stood up and looked around until he saw a kiosk. Oh, so that's how it worked.

He slithered to the machine and slipped in a few dollars. The small card that was to be his pass printed out at a snail's pace. By the time it was in Silas's hands, the station intercoms were announcing, “Now Approaching: Route B6 – To Keebalah Culinary Tech.”

Oh no, no, no! Silas slithered across the station floors. He whipped his head left and right, desperate to find his tram before it left. He couldn't be late for the first day of class, he just couldn't! What kind of impression would that have made?!

A large wooden form, painted with a dozen different hues bumped into him. It was even shaped like an odd, oblong egg.

'Ow...' He signed out before thinking. When he looked up, the wooden figure was glaring down at him.

“Hey!” The large form said before opening up in its middle to let a slightly smaller form jump out.

“Watch!” The slightly smaller form opened up to let out another slightly smaller form.

“Where!”

“You're!”

“Going!”

“Buddy!”

The last shout was a tiny sound from a tiny wooden figure who stood in front of the rest of its timber troupe.

'B-but,' Silas began, 'You all bumped into m--'

“Eh, fuck this.” The tiniest one huffed and jumped inside of the slightly bigger one. The reversal continued until they were all inside of the biggest figure. “I'm already running the clock wasting time on you anyway.”

The Matryochik rolled away towards the nearby air-tram, leaving Silas to sigh before continuing to look for his own.

He veritably stumbled upon it as a slew of humans and nonhumans alike shoved their way inside; leaving Silas out. He slithered close to the door of the tram that was still open. 'Um...' He signed, though no one was paying any attention, 'Excuse me? Can I just... squeeze in here real qui – Eep!' His hands stopped when he felt a large hand swallow his entire left side. He turned and saw an orc-woman looking none-too sympathetic to his plight. Silas looked from the black and gold cap to her hair that was pulled back into a tight bun and down to her dress-suit and shoes.

“You're holding up the train.” She growled out, bearing her tusks.

This orc was... Oh! The tram conductor!

She picked him up like he weighed nothing and hurled him into the doors. Silas found himself shoved right up against a dozen overly-perfumed and sweaty humans and nonhumans.

Despite being forced halfway into the air-tram, Silas's tail was still hanging out of the doors.

The tram conductor frowned. “We're running late.” She growled and drew her foot back, swinging it forth and landing square on Silas's backside and pushing him in that final necessary inch.

The doors slammed shut and the conductor knocked against the side of the air tram. The air-tram chugged to life and began tugging along the wire frame that led into the airways of Dama Fristad.

Inside, Silas twisted and writhed until he and his smarting bottom could press up against the air-tram door.

As awful as getting on had been, Silas's breath was pulled away from him by the vision given to him through the window. The pulling skyline of Dama Fristad, being able to see the tops of the fiery district of Ignis Fanis, the refreshing district of Aquacia... He could see the poisonous mists of Miasmus, the crows flying in search of Necronia's daily carrion... And, of course, the verdant trees of ShimmerGale.

Silas couldn't help the quiet chuckle that left him as he saw a group of gryphons flying through the air around the air-tram A group of school-aged wind-spirits giggled and landed upon the tram. They were soon shooed away by the engineer, though their breezes still shook the tram a bit.

It was amazing how, despite being born in this city, Silas had never really seen... any of it.

***

When the air-tram stopped, Silas popped out and let the fresh scent of the ShimmerGale forests and flora embrace his tongue. He didn't even have to slither too far: the ancient, moss-covered behemoth of a tree, the third largest in this mythical wood, that was his destination couldn't be missed.

It was wider than most buildings; denser, covered in thick gnarls and knots. Its branches heaved and swayed in the breeze, weighed down with blooms and nuts innumerable.

The Institute was right in front of him. Keebalah: through these doors the world's best pastry chefs had earned their wings. Silas's heart was pounding. This was it. This was finally it.

He slithered to the trunk of the massive tree and looked up. Silas took a short breath and rested his hand on the aged wood. The great tree began to hum and shiver as it opened up a small door to welcome Silas in.

Silas wasted no time, flinching when the tree shut behind him. He held his messenger bag close and tried to find where he needed to go. The scent of fresh-baked cookies was almost cloying inside of the tree. Everything had been shaved and polished to a smooth golden state. It was almost like a warm stainless... gold.

In the corner of his eye. Silas had almost missed it, but he slithered back and saw a poster on the wall that said 'New Students! Get To Room 372! NOW!'

372... 372... Silas skimmed over the numbers he passed, looking for that number. He only happened upon the right door thanks to someone stepping out of it to make a quick phone call. Thank goodness, he had made it. Looking around the large classroom, Silas immediately felt at home. A wall full of ovens, stainless steel counters, the latest models of stoves, and pantries that were sure to have all sorts of raw, unique ingredients for them to work with.

Silas slithered inside and looked for a table of his own. It gave him the opportunity to look at his classmates: like the large, sticky form of gelatinous, multicolored ooze that was a Gummy Fiend. Or the very same Matryochik from the air-tram station: looking just as jerkish and stuck-up as before. There were humans here and there, a few more nonhumans, but it seemed like the instructor had yet to show.

Silas sat down at an empty table and waited: his tail flicking behind him and his claws interlocking. Nothing much happened for a while. Another human walked in, her heels clicking against the polished floors.

Silas, who had started looking up recipes in his book that would make a good impression, didn't look up.

“This seat taken, honey?” A voice, raspy like burnt sugar and warm like chocolate, pressed up against Silas's ear.

Er...

Where his ear would be if he had them.

Silas jerked, his tongue slipping out to taste the air before he could catch himself. He gulped as he smelt the sweetest mixture of strawberry pie and sangria. He didn't just smell it. Despite his intentions, he drank it down. He turned to his side to see a breath-taking specimen of a woman take a seat next to him. Form-tight jeans that showed every nuance of her hips. A leather belt with a shiny buckle that read 'Perfect Piece', a long-sleeved red blouse covered in polka-dots. She had her black hair cut to a medium length and it curled at the ends that weren't obscured by her flora bandana.

Silas couldn't help how much he was staring. She was the most breath-taking woman he had ever seen.

She would have had to be blind to ignore the awestruck naga in front of her. “Hey.” She smirked, bright red lips holding the gesture as her cheeks made her beauty mark dance a bit. “You got a name? I mean, I reckon you should at least give it to me in exchange for the free show you're gettin'.”

Silas stopped himself from getting too distracted by the breasts that filled out that polka-dotted blouse. He frantically signed out, 'M-my name! Silas! Yep! That's my name!'

She giggled behind her hand (ruby nails too, God!). “The name's Susannah. Now,” She nodded towards the opening door, “Put your tongue away. Looks like our teacher's comin' in.”

The door slammed open. Everyone rushed to their tables just as a large elf walked in. His rounded chest and belly preceded him with swaths of dark auburn hair popping out of his shirt from the front and under his sweaty arms.

Silas watched as the unkempt elf dressed in a culinary uniform, overgrown beard taking over the lower half of his face, walked to the front of the class. Surely this wasn't their professor... He couldn't be.

The elf looked around. His eyes narrowed and his lips twisted into a sneer. He hawked and spat out onto the floor. “Listen up, ya slack-jawed piles of sugar-puke!” The rotund elf said, lumbering in front of the class, “This. Is Keebalah Culinary Tech. The highest breed of bakers, chocolatiers, and candy-makers have all been sired from these hallowed halls,” He stopped to cup at his crotch, making sure that everyone was watching, “And me own virile loins! SO! I'll be damned if any of ye think that you'll be able to coast by my courses with namby-pamby petite-fours! Or the family recipe cookies you stole from underneath your grandma's skirt!”

Nobody said a word. Save for the poor guy who raised his hand to ask, “Are... Are you Professor Ernest?”

“OUT!” The elf boomed. He stormed over, grabbed the guy, and hurled him out of the window before you could say 'Creme Brulee'.

Promptly afterward, the elf turned and walked through the aisles. “You all will call me 'Chef' and not stray from it, ya hear?!”

Everyone nodded.

“Good.” Chef frowned as he looked over his class for the upcoming year. Not a worthy one amongst them. “You all aren't worth shite! I shouldn't even be wastin' mah breath here but you all have the delusion of wantin' to learn, so I'm not gonna deny ye your funerals. Now!” He stomped onto the floor, triggering a wooden podium to jut out. “I'm takin' role! If you don't answer, you get an 'F' for the day!” Chef called out the names of the remaining students until he got to:

“Saccharin!”

The Gummy Fiend gargled out. “Present and accounted for~!”

“Matvey!”

“Here!” All the parts of the Matryochik called back.

“Susannah!”

Susannah folded her arms and leaned back in her chair. “Present!”

“Silas!”

'Here!' Silas signed out. Chef frowned when he didn't hear anything.

“What did I say about payin' attention, ya pieces of rotten cream cheese?!” He wrote in an 'F' next to Silas's name.

'What?!' Silas stood up, signing up a storm, 'I responded! I'm right here!'

Chef slammed his attendance binder shut after several more names. “Alright, enough of that!” He slammed the podium back into the floor. “Get yer asses into gear and try to impress me! Not that any of ye will succeed...” He turned around and scratched his hairy stomach. “GET A MOVE ON!”

Everyone sprung into action: rushing to wash their hands, trying to get the best ingredients from the pantry, preheating ovens.

But Silas was struck still. He had already gotten an 'F'? But how? He didn't even get to do anything? His shoulders slumped; his tail went limp. Maybe... Maybe his mother was right...

***

“Culinary school?” Charlotte had a confused look on her face as she looked down at the pamphlet her son was holding out.

Silas nodded before signing, 'I really like baking and working with sweets, Mother. I was thinking that --'

Charlotte snatched the pamphlet from Silas's hands and tossed it in the trash. 'Mother, wh--'

He was stopped as Charlotte pulled him close against her chest, shaking her head. “None of that, dear... Shh...” Silas was forced to accept the petting of his head. “No silly thoughts of leaving home... You're fine with me and your father here. Shh... Quiet now...”

Silas's claws made brief motions, 'But...'

Charlotte's tail seized her sons hands and she shook her head again. “Just stay in the nest and you'll be fine. Oh, at a culinary school they would just yell at you and belittle you! Here you're safe! My little egg...'

***

“Hey!”

Silas shook his head out of the memory when Susannah punched him in the shoulder. 'Ow...'

“You need to make yourself stand out!” Susannah nodded towards the chaotic pantries and the crowded ovens. “C'mon!”

Silas watched Susannah jump into the fray. Once he stopped looking at her ass, he realized that she was right. He had to stand out; he had to make a good impression, just like he had initially hoped.

Silas slithered over to a sink and washed his claws before rushing over to join the culinary cacophony.

12: It Was Great

“THIRTY MORE MINUTES!” Chef shouted over the blistering cacophony of the baking brigade.

Silas frowned as someone bumped into him on their way to the sink to blanche their fruits. Had it really been an hour already?

“One side!”

Silas moved back to allow Susannah some room to grab the sweet bread she had toasting in the oven. “Eyes on the prize, honey.” She winked back at him and gently turned his head back to his work. Silas gulped, looking down at the boiling cream in the saucepan in front of him. He poured in a generous amount of castor sugar and waited until it mixed into the thickening cream mixture. Silas reached into his pocket and brought out his ace in the hole: his heavenly vanilla extract.

It would be just the perfect edge to make him stand out amongst his peers. The dark, fragrant fluid landed with a heavy splash. Silas whisked the mixture together and tossed the pot into the cooling dock. Just for a second, though, because he had to pour in a small mixture of gelatin he had made earlier on. He had to get this mixture into the ramekins to cool as soon as possible. He didn't think that their professor would be one for giving them extra time.

The crash of pots against plates yanked everyone away from their plates. Chef was roaring down at an elf: a singed towel hanging limp in her hands.

“Are ye tryin' to burn this whole tree down, ya milk-toothed brat?!”

“Chef, I-I'm sorr--”

“I should kick ya out of here right now!” Chef interrupted, “But I'm actually curious about how else you can fuck up in so little time! Get back to your bakin'!” He shoved the elf against the oven and moved on. “That goes for all of ya!”

Silas didn't have to be told twice. The ramekins were chilling in an impressive blast-freezer, so Silas took the opportunity to make a simple raspberry sauce. Just something for that extra kick. He tossed a cup of raspberries, strawberries, fox berries, and cloudberries into a food-processor and set it to puree.

He shouldn't.

He really needed to focus.

Silas turned to... check up on Susannah. Yeah, that was it.

A wooden spoon was pressed in between those beautiful red lips, Susannah glaring down at her dish. “What am I missing?” She whispered to herself, licking the back of the spoon and making Silas wish that there were two of them so he could get a better fantasy goi--

“EIGHT MINUTES!”

Silas shook his head, his tail winding around to smack him in the cheek. He needed to get this done! Attractive southern girls be damned!

Time was melting down all around them. The berries weren't pureed all the way but he needed to get the sauce started so he turned off the processor and set them to a boil with some sugar and lemon juice. 'Come on...' He begged, turning the heat up to the highest setting and stirring like a madman.

“FIVE MINUTES, YE WASTES OF SPACE!”

Silas rushed to the blast-freezer. The ramekins were cool enough and he rushed over to the presentation table to start building. He flipped the ramekins over onto the available platters and waited for gravity to be a team-player. 'The sauce!' He hissed and slithered over too the stove. 'No-o-o!' The subtle scent of burning sugar was already hitting his tongue. The sauce was a mess: too clumpy and burnt-smelling. But he was out of time. He didn't even need Chef shout of 'LAST MINUTE' to tell him that much.

Silas grabbed the saucepan and took it to the presentation table. His tail gently tugged the ramekins off of the creamy jiggly domes so he could stir a bit more.

Chef folded his arms over his large belly and counted, “ELEVEN!”

Silas just wanted to get the last of the lumps in the sauce out... With this army of breath-stealing work, he just wanted to make his small contribution stand out in the upper echelon. That was it...

“TEN!”

Susannah was grinding fresh cinnamon and dusting it over her plates as she went...

“NINE!”

Saccharin gave his dish a little practice pat with a silicone spatula. It wiggled and jiggled, Saccharin happily gurgling at the sight.

“EIGHT!”

Matvey shoved one of the human students out of the way. The spot that they were attempting to place their shitty little shortcake would be the perfect stage for his gift to the pastry world.

The entire kitchen quaked from Chef stomping a foot down. “Away from your tables! NOW!”

And it wasn't like everyone had a choice. Not tossed around the kitchen like they were from the quake. 'This isn't like the orientation video at all.' Silas signed to no one in particular.

Chef walked to the round display table standing in the center of the room. Even with some of them covered by silver or plastic, the spread of succulent sweets and decadent desserts was a little more than a mouthwatering survey.

Chef stopped in front of a platter of petite-fours. The sneer pushed through once more. “Whose is this? Step up!”

One of the other students stepped forward. Silas flicked out the tip of his tongue. As far away as he was, he could taste the sweat beading down the side of their face.

Chef glared down at the human. “This yer idea of a joke?”

The student gulped, their eyes looking everywhere but the elf's face, “I... I... I just...”

Chef rolled his eyes. He pulled a silver fork from his pocket and let everyone take a look. “Taste your dishes with silver utensils. Clean them between tastes so ye don't get any cross-contaminants.” He looked around. “Write this down!!”

Ballpoints and graphite feverishly tore against paper while fingers and claws pounded against glass screens. Chef dug his fork into the pastel pink petite-fours. He cut away two pieces, one of which was promptly crushed underneath his fork with a little bit of effort. “Your fondant is as hard as day-old cum on a sidewalk.”

The student's eyes ballooned. “I--”

Chef quickly wiped his fork and lifted the other piece to his mouth. He chewed once. Twice. Let the flavor rest upon his tongue. “You can't mix worth shit and your jam was sour.”

You could have heard a gnat steal some flour; the room was so stunned. Particularly the poor student who could only stand there in shock as Chef moved on.

***

Tears. Aborted shouts. And more stunned silences.

Silas didn't understand. All of the desserts and sweets on the table looked fine to him. Amazing feats of pastry and sugar; mastery of edible art.

All seen as amateur garbage in the eyes of their professor.

Silas's heart was digging a chasm into his chest. He wanted to run. To slither away like the pitiful python he was. His poor pitiful confectioneries couldn't stand up to this level of pressure.

Susannah didn't even wait to be called when she noticed Chef lumbering towards her dish. “That,” She said, with a hand on her hip, “Is my Grandmama's Lafayette Layover Bread Pudding.” She folded her arms. “Go on, take a bite.”

“Don't need yer permission.” Chef frowned and wiped down his fork. He pressed it into the sweet, warm, gooey combination of gooey bread and syrupy custard. Chef took a bite. Susannah waited. “This tastes like shit.”

Susannah slammed her hands onto the table: several desserts jostling and clanking together. “I think you have shit taste! No one bad-talks my Grandmama's cooking while I'm around!”

Chef pushed Susannah aside and moved onto the next dish, leaving the woman fuming so hard that her cheeks were matching her blouse.

“Matvey!” Chef called out, “What am I about to choke down here?”

The Matryochik puffed himself up. “Only the finest bit of Russian cuisine imaginable. I present...” Matvey lifted the cover from his dish. It was a perfectly rounded cake that was enrobed in a chocolate marble finish. The crowning pieces were the birds carved from chocolate dancing the Cossack on top. They had an accordion and little hats and everything.

“Ptichye Moloko!” All of Matvey's parts crowed out for one and all to hear. “'Bird's Milk Cake', for all of you westerners.”

Chef pressed his fork into the cake and pulled free a hefty piece of feathery cake topped with a mountain of thick cream and, of course, that flawless chocolate coating.

Over the lips it went.

Silas looked down at the cream in Matvey's dessert. It looked delectable. Nowhere near as mouthwatering was Susannah's dish but, still.

“Terrible.” Chef gruffed out.

Matvey clenched his jaw but nodded. “Of course, uchitel. Thank you.”

Chef lifted up the cover of another plate and revealed... well, a concise little clusterfuck. We're talking an in-scale, though miniature, replica of the Arc de Triomphe, with a fountain spouting stars and sprinklers behind it...

All made of blue, cream, and red gelatin.

Saccharin bounced and wiggled behind Chef. He gurgled, “So... What do you think~?”

“Think I'm getting too old for this shit.” Chef replaced his silver fork with a silver spoon. It sank into the corner of Saccharin's dessert and he slowly slurped it up.

He swallowed. “You all are such huge disappointments to me. This tastes like a piece of shit did a daisy-chain with another piece of shit who was also fingerblastin' away at a donkey's anus!”

Saccharin wilted a little. But he perked right back up.

“I got the longest response!” He gurgled joyously.

Chef scoffed and walked to the last dessert that he had to taste that day.

“Panna Cotta.” Chef ran the tip of his spoon around the plate. “Something simple for a simple mind?”

Silas quickly signed, 'That's not what I--'

“Stop flailing about, ya twice-dicked nimrod.” Chef sliced through the creamy hill cloaked in a berry-flavored flood. Past the gums it went, melting over Chef's palate.

Silas leaned forward. 'W-well? What do you think?'

Chef dropped his spoon back into his pocket. He scratched at his belly. He combed his unkempt fingernails through his beard.

Chef seized the plate and flung it at Silas, whose tail just barely wound around him to take the brunt of the hit.

“YOU'RE ALL WORTHLESS!” Chef roared. “IDIOTS! Every single one of you! Why the Culinary Board decided to let you all in here is beyond me because there ain't a talented mite amongst the lot of ya!!”

Chef stomped down hard, the kitchen lurching to the left and sending everyone and their desserts flying. “Why?! WHY AM I FORCED TO SUFFER ALL OF YOUR SHIT COOKING?!”

The weight of the room plummeted with every shout. Eyes looked for any available exit as last wills were mentally scribbled.

Silas shut his eyes and rehearsed the discussion we would have with his mother later about his coming home –

His tongue flicked out and tasted the air. Toasty... Syrupy-sweet... Creamy...

'Caramel?' He looked around. The other nonhuman students in the room joined him in searching for the sultry, teasing scent of luxurious caramel.

Chef moved like a whip. “Get out!” The doors to the kitchen opened up, “Out! All of ye! Go to lunch, go fuck, whatever! Just get your miserable asses out of here and don't come back for an hour!”

No one moved. Confusion and the fear of being the next one to draw Chef's ire.

Susannah took one of her painted nails between her teeth. She looked at the ruined table, then to the floor.

She got herself off of the floor and dusted herself free of flour and whipped cream.

“So...” She stepped up to Chef, “Are you gonna admit that my Grandmama's bread-pudding was amazing yet?”

Chef drew his head back, snapping forward with a roar. “GET OUT!!”

The words were said with so much force that Susannah's hair was blown back and it stayed that way even as everyone made their way out of the room like a landslide down a mountainside.

Chef waited, waited until his pointed ears could hear his... students far down the halls. “You cut that way too close.” He said as he stood in the center of the empty kitchen.

The floor grew sticky and tacky. A golden brown ooze seeped in between the seams between the tiles and the walls. A sweet smell soon overcame the air in the room: sugar and vanilla thickening the air.

Chef was still as the warm touch of slender fingers seeped into his shoulder.

A chuckle from behind. “You, my big strong elf, are going to burst a vessel like this.”

Chef rolled his eyes. “If only it would kill me.” He listened to a pair sticky footsteps walk through his kitchen classroom.

“There's a lot of talent this time around.” The other voice said. A plate met a shattering end against the floor. “Raw talent.”

Chef sighed, “It'll take every second of the next two and a half years to teach these shitheads how to temper chocolate, let alone make actual desserts.”

“And yet...” Chef closed his eyes and allowed the warmth of the other to press up against his front; to melt into his clothing, “You take it upon yourself to dig into the filth of this world to find the best ingredients to keep our art going. You care, my big strong elf. Even with how much you pout your face up.”

Chef scowled. “Eat my dick.”

“The next time I sleep over, I'll be on my knees with bells on.” A cavity-inducing was pecked against Chef's lips. “Now, I have to get out of here before I start melting into the foundation. I brought the things you wanted. You should divide them up before calling the students back.” Another sticky kiss. “You have my number. Though,” A chuckle, “The rumbling of your stomach is the far better signal for my company.”

Like a flash of light the caramel, the second premise, and all evidence leading to the two had vanished.

Chef opened his eyes and tugged his beard back into place. He didn't need to... But Chef looked down at his stomach. 

 

 

“I should cut down on the sweets.”

***

Silas's eyes looked over his tail. He hoped that there wouldn't be any bruising left from that plate. That was the last thing that he needed his mother to see.

He thought back to what had happened in the classroom. Did he really know how to bake? Maybe Zach and the others were humoring him. Mira and Odysseus constantly told him his baking tasted like shit.

His chest contracted.

'I wonder how much a ticket back home to the nest would be.' He sighed and resigned himself to look into it.

“Hey honey.”

Silas looked up from his moping when Susannah strolled over. “C'mere, honey.” She hopped up onto the nearest table and sat down. She patted her lap and, upon seeing the naga tilt his head, she had to fold her arms and pout, “Boy, if you don't come on!”

If Silas had hair it would have stood on end. He slithered over.

'I-it's alright, you don't have to... do...'

Soft hands. They danced over Silas's tail and Susannah let out a low whistle at how Silas's scales danced between diamonds, rounded shapes, and squares underneath her fingertips. “Doesn't look like anything's too out of place. No bleedin', no scratches...”

No, nothing was out of place from the assault in the kitchen. Just Silas's dignity. It was one thing to be close to a figment of beauty like Susannah, but for her to be touching his tail like it was nothing? Silas feverishly adjusted his apron in case they had a pair of unexpected appearances today.

“You're gonna be fine, honey.” Susannah told him, “Trust me: I've had more than my fair share of plates thrown at me. The healing goes along pretty fast.”

Silas could only nod. He didn't trust his claws to properly sign anything resembling words right there and then.

***

When class resumed and everyone filed back into the kitchen-classroom, they were confused to see white culinary boxes in front of their seats. Chef hawked a huge loogie into the trashcan near him. “Sit down, all of ye. Don't want to waste more time than I already am with you. Unless yer blind, you can see the boxes in front of you. You'll spend the rest of your time under my learnin' as teams of two. Each of ya won't just bee responsible for honing your own skills,” Chef turned on the oven closest to him, “You'll be keeping an eye out and makin' sure your partners don't fall behind.”

Chef stopped. “Open your boxes. NOW!”

Everyone tore the lids from their boxes. Silas took a short breath. He lifted out a saffron culinary uniform from his box. The embroidered Keebalah Tech logo on the right lapel, the matching hat...

It was wonderful.

Silas tore out of his admiration for his clothes and looked around.

All of Matvey's parts were groaning: the purple uniform in his rounded hands matching the purple uniform Saccharin was waving about in his sticky feelers.

A noise from next to him got Silas's attention. Susannah was busy frowning at her... saffron... uniform. Silas shrunk into himself. He didn't want to be a burden onto her, he just –

“I look terrible in yellow!” Susannah looked to Silas with a wink, “Guess something's telling us that we need to stick together through this, honey.”

“Come off it.” Chef lumbered by and jerked a thumb in Silas's direction, “He won't open his mouth,” He pointed to Susannah, “And you won't shut yours. That's all there was to it.”

Silas and the others watched Chef walk back to the front of the kitchen-classroom. Chef slammed his fist against the counter. The oven popped open and spat out a large caramel cookie replica of the school. “We will meet for class three times a week. Your uniforms are to be cleaned and pressed accordin' to the enclosed instructions.”

“Chef!” Someone raised their hand. “What if our box didn't come with instructions?”

“Then yer shit outta luck!” Chef barked back. “Now, all of ye get the hell on home! Do whatever ye need to prepare for our next class. But you'd better be ready to learn. Now, get!”

***

Silas's whole body ached by the time he made it home to 1685. “Hey Silas.” Periwinkle greeted him, the doorfairy contorting his body into some impossible yoga pose.

'Hey.' Silas let himself in. Nephubos was on the floor of the main room, his eyes scanning through a large textbook. Abelard's door was shut but he could hear noise from Abelard's library. Finally, Zach was in the kitchen. The human was cutting at a slab of pork. His phone was playing a recipe in slow-mo next to him.

Zach felt a new presence in the room. He turned down his phone volume and saw Silas. “Oh. Hey.” He set the knife down and wiped his hands on his pants. “How was school?”

Silas... Didn't know. Between the air-tram ride, his angry professor, and his shattered self-esteem, he just felt so drained.

'It...' He began.

'I-it...' His mouth couldn't keep a straight line as he lowered his head.

 

 

 

'It was great.' He lied.

13: The Blood Bears Fruit

“Do you need lunch money or anything?” Abelard couldn't help it: once a parent, always a parent.

Nephubos shook their head.

'We will be fine! Zach and Silas packed an assortment of edible things called a...' The bleb pulled out their notebook and read out, 'Lauunch... box'!'

Abelard nodded, “Well, I'm sure your lunchbox will be very delicious. Now, young one, if you need anything be sure to call either Zach or myself. Alright?”

Nephubos nodded. 'Yes Mr. Abelard. Bye~!'

Abelard kept his car idle. He watched Nephubos roll along the university courtyard in their little wagon until they were out of sight.

Abelard nodded to himself. “Right. Off to work.”

***

The wendigo kept to the speed limit all the way down the 190 freeway. Even when he saw that a wanyudo was attempting to merge into traffic and once the fiery wheel did, the flow of traffic was going to come to a complete stop. But there was no use in getting a ticket on his first day of work. What kind of example would he be setting? No, he would just suffer through this.

A creature his age had to show maturity, patience, and level-headedness.

Abelard lasted all of ten minutes before he slammed his hand against the horn.

***

A police car swept through the busy road. It took a swift left into the gated parking lot that surrounded the towering structure of blue brick and lapis lazuli trim.

“Dama Fristad Police Station.” Abelard slowed his car down, taking in the sight of police cars coming and going, of mermaid officers swimming up through the waterways that led to the guarded building. Abelard glanced down at his watch, nodding, “With twenty-five minutes to spare.”

Abelard turned into the same road that other police cars had turned into. He floored the brakes when the barricade was brought down in front of him. He blinked and, with some effort, popped his head out of his window. “Excuse me? Young one?”

“Mm?” Was the response of the mermaid officer that was stuck on security guard duty that morning. Though with how she was texting away at her phone, Abelard wasn't sure how much security she was actually providing.

“I'm actually due to clock in. First day.”

Without even looking up from her phone, the mermaid officer asked, “Do you, like, have your badge?”

Abelard's eyes didn't flare up with short-lived blue flames. No, of course not. The wendigo knew better than that.

“... No.” He began, “As I said before, today is my first day. I need to get inside so I can get said badge.”

“No badge,” The mermaid officer swiped across her phone screen, “No entry. Sorry. You can go around the corner to get to the civilian entrance though.”

Abelard only had so much patience when it came to young creatures who never learned their manners.

***

Abelard parked near the middle portion of the parking lot. Better not to be too callous and park too close to the station, but he didn't want to park too far and have to spend too much time walking.

The wendigo stepped out of his car, briefcase in hand, and took a second to examine himself in the reflection of the shiny green paint.

His suit was still pressed and free of lint. He tugged his gloves a bit so that they met the cuffs of his sleeves.

He pulled a hairbrush out of his briefcase and made quick work of his hair and beard. Once his glasses were adjusted, he nodded to his reflection and was on his way: ignoring the smoke coming from the charred security booth.

***

Abelard slipped into a group of officers and employees filing into the police station. It was only the slightest bit humiliating, sneaking around like this. But it was just until he got his badge.

The inside of the DFPS filled out every nook and cranny of the space one expected from the scale of the building's exterior. Four floors, not counting the basement which held the jail cells or the roof which hosted the tarmac and the launchpad.

Several waterways criss-crossed throughout the station for the mermaid officers. There was even a waterfall for them to swim up in order to get to the higher floors.

Abelard ducked as a Minokawa swept through the air: several boxes held in his mighty talons. “Donut and dango delivery!” He called out as he tossed the boxes down to the officers waiting in the cafeteria.

Abelard shook his head with a chuckle. “I guess that stereotype rings true for humans and nonhuman officers alike.”

He walked over to the receptionist's desk and got in line behind a vampire officer who was looking a little uncomfortable under the collar.

“Come on,” He groaned, “I need to approve my hours before my SPF 9000 wears off!”

“Why didn't you approve them on your last shift?” The receptionist asked, the vampire groaning again,

“I spent the whole night shift writing tickets that I needed to process before leaving! I would think that you would understand how someone could get distracted! Now, please..! Can you approve my hours so I can go back to Necronia before I turn to ashes and die?!”

The receptionist drummed their fingernails against the counter for a second. They whipped their chair around to the second computer on the counter and typed something in. “And...” They hummed, “Done. I'm thinking pastrami on whole wheat this time around. Don't forget~!”

“Oh, I'll see you in hell.” The vampire groused out right as he dissolved into a swarm of bats and flew out of the station.

When Abelard walked up to the counter, the receptionist looked up at him.

“You're a new face. Dressed pretty nicely, too.” They hummed.

Abelard nodded. “I'm actually going to be working here as of today.”

“Oh, the new researcher!” The receptionist typed something in on the first computer. “Okay...” They spun their chair around, “Chief's up on the fourth floor. Careful, though, I think he might be feeling a bit colicky.”

Abelard didn't want to go any deeper into the rabbit hole that the receptionist was digging. He thanked them and walked over to the stairs.

He wasn't so old that he needed the escalator or the elevator, thank you.

Though, by the time he reached the top of the second flight of stairs, Abelard was beginning to regret his life choices.

“I...” He grumbled to himself, “Refuse... to do... extra cardio...”

A passing officer stopped and asked, “Sir, do you need some help with the stairs? Actually, there's a perfectly good elevator just over ther--”

“No, no!” Abelard panted, “It's fine! I'm fine! Thank you for your concern!”

***

The bubbling pond of freshwater and swaying reeds signaled Abelard's arrival on the fourth floor. The melding of technology, modern interior design, and the ebb and flow of nature was seamless.

Abelard's briefcase swayed as he walked along the stainless steel bridge suspended in the sublime waters.

Several fronds of cattails, dotted in spots and beginning to fluff out, caught the corner of his eye.

He knelt down to inspect one of them, holding out his hand as he did. A crackle of electricity and a heavy tome appeared in it.

The wendigo let the book flip through its pages, fluttering and flapping. It landed on a charcoal sketch of the very same spotted cattails. “Cheetah Paw Cattails,” Abelard read out, “'Edible counterparts to their smaller, plain cousins. Good source of fiber and Vitamin B'. Interesting...” He looked around before plucking several of them: dropping them into his briefcase.

A soft chime echoed from the elevator as it descended down from the roof.

When it opened, three forms squeezed out. The dragon Lieutenant Gasko, the phoenix Inspector Ruan, and the Karasu-Tengu Captain Oshiro all sighed in relief when they pulled out. “I'm going to incinerate the meshugenah who decided that the elevator is big enough...” Lieutenant Gasko growled, steam spiraling out of her nostrils.

“Commissioner Cruickshank.” Captain Oshiro addressed the pond. He walked along the steel bridge-work to keep his feathers dry, Gasko and Ruan following him in single file; the bridge-work wasn't that wide.

The surface of the pond rippled. It bubbled, it splashed. The waters broke with a matted black head forcing their way through. The dark equine form pulled himself the rest of the way through. His woefully matted mane hung low to the surface of the pond. His coat was dark as ink spreading through clean water. Over his chest, the equine creature was wearing a DFPF vest: medals displayed proudly despite how they were dripping.

The kelpie opened their blacker-than-black plate-wide eyes and snorted. “You're late.”

“Apologies, sir.” Inspector Ruan, “We got caught up helping with that pile up over and Ladyfinger Avenue.”

Commissioner Cruickshank shook his head with a nicker. “Don't give me excuses. When I tell you all to get your asses down here you damn well better listen! Especially with everything that's going on right now, I need my elites on hand!!”

“Sir.” Oshiro, Gasko, and Ruan nodded. Commissioner Cruickshank clip-clopped over the water. “Can't believe I had to wake up to something like this. As if managing this police force isn't enough of a tax on my heart, now I --”

Commissioner Cruickshank tore into a gallop when he noticed a new face on the fourth floor. The kelpie looked Abelard up and down, finally neighing, “Who the hell are you?!”

“Abelard Von Baumgarten. Your new Non-Human Research Analyst?” Abelard offered his hand for a shake. Just to have it ignored by the Commissioner.

“I don't have time for this!” Snarled the chief, “I've got an elf rotting in the morgue, a station full of idiots, and I know that Trillium the Fair's gonna tear into my ass once he hears that someone gutted one of his wards!”

The kelpie whipped around, mane and tail sending droplets of water everywhere. “None of you better say anything to the Press until we have a suspect! Do I make myself clear?!”

“Sir! Yes, sir!” Oshiro, Gasko, and Ruan stood up at attention and saluted.

“Commissioner?” Another officer jogged into the area. “Forensics are ready to discuss the body.”

Commissioner Cruickshank nodded. “Okay. Okay, the three of you.” He noticed Abelard once more. “Actually, all of you: get out of my office. Solve this case. Make yourselves fucking useful. Dismissed!”

Commissioner Cruickshank leapt back into the pond. Once the Commissioner was gone, the weight on the three elite officers visible left their shoulders.

“He needs to calm down before he gets Colic or something.” Ruan wiped a wing over his brow.

Gasko walked over to Abelard. “Perhaps we should introduce ourselves better. I am Rebekah Gasko.” The pink dragon spoke.

“Guang Ruan's the name.” The phoenix chirped. Finally, Captain Oshiro said,

“My first name is Izumi.”

Abelard took in the new information. “An upstanding group of young people. I wish that we were introduced under better circumstances. That and I wish that I had a badge...”

***

The Dama Fristad Police Station morgue was kept well into freezing. It was more a security measure for the bodies of the deceased, especially since there could be so many different kinds.

Izumi wrapped more of his scarf around his neck as they walked into the quiet, stainless steel space. Even the display screens on the walls were prone to icing over: some poor sap always having to come in to shave the ice away.

Rebekah, of course, had her internal flame to keep her warm and Guang was a phoenix. Abelard opened one of his books. The pages flipped and turned until they landed on a picture of a warm summer day in a strawberry field.

The subtle warmth wrapped around him just as a voice spoke up, “Ah, I have been expecting you! Come, come!”

They watched a snow-white mountain doe with large curved horns of gold tip-toe around a table. “Zere is much to discuss.”

“Have you discovered anything about the body?” Izumi asked, the deer humming and walking to the center table that was covered in a sheet. She took the sheet in her teeth and gave a tug. The sheet fluttered away. Rebekah and Abelard flinched at the sight. The body of the elf had faded: worn like aged paper. Grey veins webbed over her skin and her lips had weathered to a sickly blue. Her eyes were sunken in behind their lids. Undressed as she was, the causes of her demise were visible: the deep slices into her abdomen and the two gashes across her neck.

“Whoever did zis,” The zlatorog doe said, “Wasn't just doing it out of sudden rage or spite. I am just flummoxed: I can not figure out what matter of human or beast could have done it.”

Guang hopped closer to the examination table. “A ghoul?”

“Nein, nein...” The deer shook her head, “They only attack humans. Besides, they would have eaten most of her if they did it.”

Rebekah glanced at the body. She tried measuring the distance between slashes. “A Mantida?”

The zlatorog clicked a hoof against the floor. “Zat's what I was thinking! I need to measure and examine a bit more, but you see...” She walked close to the body and moved away some of the elf's pale pink hair. You had to take a second and third glance but you would eventually see them: the vibrant branches slowly seeping up any sparkling, congealed blue elfblood and extending forth. “She is already becoming one with the earth.”

“It wasn't a Mantida.”

Everyone looked to the source of the words to see Abelard holding that heavy tome. The pages were rapidly flapping and switching, the wendigo's eyes following every word and picture as they rushed by.

The zlatorog huffed. “And who do you zink you are to say such zings?”

Abelard didn't respond, so Guang stepped in, “He's our new Research Analyst. Interesting guy.”

The book came to an abrupt stop and Abelard rushed to the side of the corpse on the table. “The typical Mantida has a slicing span of two feet, because their arms are so long and their blades so long. Now, if a Mantida decided to attack this poor creature, it very well could have...”

“But there would only be one slash.” Izumi concluded. “But then that brings up the question of what direction we should be looking into.”

Abelard slammed the book shut. “Do you three have any ideas on your initial interrogations?”

“But of course.” Rebekah nodded, Guang adding,

“When a wife or girlfriend goes missing, you have to interview the husband or boyfriend.”

 

36 Gelfing Boulevard

ShimmerGale District, 3:45 PM

 

After waiting for Abelard to find a place to park, the three elite officers and the wendigo walked up to a tree that had been grown into the shape of a mansion. Five stories, at least thirty rooms: a symbol of opulence from the golden fence in front to the attached spring in the back.

“Geez...” Guang sighed, “Feel like I would have to take out a loan just to take a crap here.”

“Shush!” Rebekah warned him as Izumi and Abelard walked up the porch steps. Abelard did the knocking and, though it took a minute, a human doorman eventually opened up.

“May I help you?” They asked, nose turned up oddly high for a glorified gofer.

Izumi bowed and replied, “I'm Captain Oshiro of the Dama Fristad Police Force. This is Inspector Ruan, Lieutenant Gasko, and Baumgarten-sensei.” Truth be told, with that last address Izumi panicked a bit on an internal scale. He had no idea how to refer to Abelard and reverted back to elementary matters of address.

Abelard wanted to question it but they had other matters. Especially that of the doorman clearing his throat in that obnoxious way where it seems like someone is trying to gather all the mucus and phlegm that their body has ever produced in the history of existing up into one slow-moving sluice.

“Do you have business with Sire Maple or Dam Ivy?” Said the doorman, “Because Young Pine Needle isn't seeing guests today.”

Rebekah stepped forward. “We're investigating the circumstances of the elf Berry's death. We just want to ask a few questions.”

The doorman still wasn't in the mindset to humor the collection of Non-humans at the door. His nose had gotten comfortable being stuck up in the air where it was.

Ruan rolled his eyes and asked his coworkers, “So, Izumi, do you and Siklon have any plans tonight? Or what about you, Rebekah? How's Rabbi Abraham doing today?”

Abelard turned to see Rebekah rubbing her temples and Izumi blushing so furiously it was burning through his feathers.

The doorman opened his mouth but the only words that rang out came from behind him.

“Quit causing trouble for our... distinguished guests and their plus-ones.”

“Let them in.”

The doorman sniffed at the order but followed it dutifully.

Abelard and the elite officers walked into the main parlor of the home and found themselves at the bottom of two staircases that swayed in the breeze. Lightning bugs rested in great numbers along the rails, illuminating the space.

 

“Our home is always welcomed to the most distinguished of guests.”

On the top of the left staircase stood an older male elf with amber hair.

 

“Please forgive our doorman. He's only human.”

On the right staircase, an older female elf with green hair.

 

They both slowly descended the stairs: dressed in finery and gems. When they reached the bottom, the doorman announced, “Sire Maple and Dam Ivy.”

“Thank you for letting us into your home.” Rebekah bowed her head, “We're here to ask a few questions. About Ms. Berry?”

Sire Maple shook his head. “A terrible happening for this household.”

But Dam Ivy scoffed and looked away, “Damn that aggravating child. Look at all the trouble she's gotten us into now.”

Dam Ivy turned back to the group and saw Abelard looking directly at her; trying to figure her out.

“Anyway,” Sire Maple said, “The last time we heard from her was when she left to go to her... Pilates class. We unfortunately don't have any more information.”

Guang brought out a notepad from his pocket and jotted everything down. “What's the name of the Pilates studio?”

“Oh, we don't know.” Dam Ivy scoffed, Sire Maple adding,

“She had the annoying habit of talking a mile a minute. We could never keep track of anything she said.”

Izumi looked around the parlor. He just needed to find something he could expand into a conversation. Some source of evidence.

“Berry...”

Out from the western wing came a new face. Another elf, younger than Maple and Ivy, with short, deep green hair; hair that hadn't seen a comb in days. Even his face was overcome with grassy stubble. He was dressed in nothing more than a stained bathrobe, his hands clutching onto a small potted berry tree.

“Pine Needle!” Dam Ivy hissed, “Get back into your Mourning Room this instant! You're unwell!”

But Pine Needle didn't listen to his mother. He saw the strangers in the main room, eyes ballooning when he noticed their badges. “You!!” He stormed over, “Have you found them yet?! The bastards that took my Berry from me!!”

“Well...” Guang whistled around the pen in his beak, “You see, we – No. We were just assigned to the case and we wanted to ask some questions. When was the last time you talked to your girlfriend?”

Pine Needle threw his head back, an agonized roar tearing from his lips and a wash of Pine tree branches surging up from the polished floors.

“FIANCEE!!” He screamed, “FIANCEE! SHE WAS MY FIANCEE!!” A deep breath had all of the Pine branches melting back into the floor. “How are you going to arrest the bastard who did this if you can't even call Berry by what she was to me?!”

“Pine Needle!” Sire Maple seethed out, “Calm yourself! You're looking woefully unrefined already!”

“If I might.” Abelard stepped forward, “Young one, I know your grief: having the person that fills your heart from brim to brim torn away from you. You probably feel as though the fairer half of your soul has withered away and the only thing keeping you sane is that tree in your arms.”

Something warm grabbed Abelard's arm. It was Guang, the phoenix whispering into where an ear would be, “No offense, but Ix-nay on the oul-crushing-say espair-day!”

Abelard tugged himself away, “But the best course of action, the best means of respecting your love's passing--”

“RESPECT?!” Pine Needle shouted, the floor beginning to bristle, “You think that you can come to me, in my own parents' house, and talk to me about respect during a time like this?!” Pine Needle huffed, shaking his head, marching over to glare up at Abelard, “The gall in your words. The... sheer level of pompous ignorance. Respect?! I pleaded with Akeldama, begged, to let the Grim Reaper give Berry back to me, even as a spirit. THAT would have been the greatest respect she could have been given.” Pine Needle glared at the shadows that the small berry tree laid upon the floor. “Do you know what they told me?!”

***

Cold, grey waters poured into a ceramic cup enveloped in a ring of ice and a ring of smoke. When the cup was full, it keeled over and dropped its contents into the icy abyss below.

“You would deny your sweetheart the glory of Elfenheim? That's a little cruel, don't you think?”

The cup filled up.

“She wasn't meant to go be taken from me so soon!! Please... She has so much more to do here. With me!!”

The cup tipped over, water spilling into the abyss.

“Mah... You're really bold. Listen: she has no unfinished business and she's already moved on. If you really want to see her again, wait until Remembrance Day. Now, if I were you I'd get out of here before your living breath starts to attract the wrong sort of company. My condolences for your loss, kid. But death really is just part two.”

***

Pine Needle growled. He seized the nearest chair in one hand and hurled it at the window.

“Pine Needle!” Sire Maple and Dam Ivy shouted. Izumi steeled himself; ready in case this turned into a domestic disturbance.

But Pine Needle merely reached into the branches of the berry tree. He tugged out a phone: glittery pink, a cracked screen, but still functional.

“If you understand anything about respect,” Pine Needle tossed the phone over, Abelard grabbing it, “Then you'll use that to get me something resembling justice for Berry. Now,” He clapped his hands once, the doorman opening the front door, “Get the hell out of my house.”

“You are pushing your limits, Pine Needle...” Sire Maple walked over to his disheveled son, “Go back. To. Your. Mourning Room.”

Pine Needle tightened his hold on the berry tree and returned his father's sour look. “You'll excuse me, father. But I never expected to have to turn my wedding into a wake.”

***

The door slammed in their faces. “That could have gone better...” Izumi sighed, “Baumgarten-sensei, if you could please abstain from aggravating our witnesses from this point forward.”

“My apologies.” Abelard tried getting the phone to turn on, the screen not wanting to respond to his larger fingers, “But at least we have a lead. I – damn it,” The wendigo sighed, “I've never been good with newer technology.”

“Hand it over.” Guang held out a wing, quickly opening up the phone's menu and searching through Berry's files. “Let's see... Wedding, wedding, wedding – whoa, she played a lot of dress-up games.”

“Focus...” Rebekah growled.

Guang kept on until he found a video file labeled '#Bitchin'WeddingPlans. He clicked on it, the video buffering for a second.

“By Trillium the Fair's sun-kissed hair~!” Berry shrieked, “Like, OMG, Pine Needle proposed to me at dinner last night. Can you even believe it?! Look at this rock, though~!” She flashed her hand, a golden band with Elvish runes and an obnoxiously large padparascha in the center.

“That ring was not on the body.”

Guang nodded, “I'll have to put out an APB for all the pawn-shops in town.”

“So, like,” The video of Berry continued on. The elf gave a flip of her hair, “This wedding is going to be, like, totes off the chain! I'm going to kick it up a notch at Pilates so I look extra hot on my wedding day~ Also, Piney-baby already set me up appointments with Harun, the Harun, for my dress and Cara Mellice, like UBER-EXCLUSIVE CARA MELLICE, for the cake! AH!”

The group covered their ears from the piercing screech from the phone.

“OMG,” Berry said, “I have to call Bubble and give her the deets~ KYA~! I'M GOING TO BE A BRIDE, CAN YOU EVEN?!”

The video came to an abrupt halt, Berry's excited face forever frozen in data and time. “Who is Cara Mellice?” Abelard asked, “I've at least heard of Harun's boutique.”

“He's the most exclusive baker in all of Dama Fristad, if not, the world.” Izumi explained, “Pine Needle really was ready to spare no expense for his wedding.”

“And that face is not the face of a creature who would murder their beloved.” Rebekah added.

“Well,” Guang turned off the phone, “Let's get this phone back to Evidence. We need to submit a request for a multi-location Search-Warrant too.”

 

1685 Blightblossom Lane

Dama Fristad Center Court, 6:32 PM

 

“Hey Abe – whoa.” Periwinkle stopped combing his feelers when Abelard walked to the door. The exhaustion in the wendigo's frame was blatant. “You okay?”

“Yes, yes.” Abelard nodded. He dug into his briefcase for his keys and shoved them into the lock.

As soon as the door was opened, he all-but collapsed in. He closed the door behind himself and braced himself up against it, harsh breath raking through his skeletal face.

What was this weight that was pressing down on his chest? Was this condo always this hot?

Abelard's breathing was terribly labored. A desperate attempt to ease the strain, he fumbled his fingers with the buttons of his jacket, finally tearing the garment away from himself.

Whereas his head couldn't sweat, the hard muscles of his arms bore the brunt of the dampness over the darkened skin.

“Abelard?”

Abelard gasped, straightening himself up and adjusting his tie. Zach stepped out from the kitchen, stirring something in a bowl. Though his face was almost as impassive as Abelard's own, the wendigo could sense the concern before the human spoke once more.

“How was work?” Zach set the bowl upon the counter, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Oh, just your typical first day of introductions and orientations.” Why was he lying to this boy? Obviously he couldn't tell him about the murder, but there was no reason for him to completely fabricate nonsense.

Zach looked him over. “Okay.” Zach turned back around and grabbed the bowl. “I'm making dinner.”

The small swallow just barely knicked Abelard's hearing.

“That... sounds nice.” Abelard picked up his coat and walked to his library. “I just need to research a few things. Excuse me a moment.”

Abelard shut the door to his library. He needed to know. He had actually gone back to the morgue to examine Berry's body once more but he had come to the same vague conclusion.

Abelard walked down the winding stairs, books lining his path deep into the Earth. The deep breaths that left his skull mixing into the dust and mists surrounding his descent.

His feet finally came to the floor of his library that he needed. Abelard looked around the trove of tomes bound in dark leather and locked in iron or bone. Abelard held up his right hand and examined the silken fabric covering it.

It was quickly removed, Abelard flexing and relaxing a large, gnarled hand; each finger tipped in extending claws.

“You can see my memories.” He told the library, “You're lapping up everything I bore witness to today. Now, tell me!”

The uncovered, monstrous hand burst into flames the same brilliant hues of Abelard's eyes. It did burn, but after so many years Abelard had come to realize that true knowledge only came with pain.

“Show me the weapon that slaughtered that child!!”

The great library heaved and groaned, books sluicing off of the shelves and cracking against the floor. The flame tried to shift, a sharp hiss from Abelard making it go back to his hand.

He saw movement in the corner of his eye and held out his left hand. A metal-bound book, locked with chains, flew from a shelf and crashed into his hand.

Abelard crushed the flames out of existence. He tried to ignore the scent of burning flesh as he examined the tome with a verbal frown.

“But of course...” He sighed, wondering how long it would take to open it and get the answers he sought.  

14: The Blood Bears Fruit V. 2

The next morning Abelard was up and ready with the sun. Of course, the workspace in his library was now littered with the remains of explosions, the claw-marks that gouged into the walls, and the stench of a conflict.

Abelard walked to the kitchen. Silas was waiting on the edges, waiting for Odysseus to finish blending his protein shake.

Silas flinched upon seeing the Minotaur grab the carton of eggs from the fridge. 'You're really not going to use all of those eggs--' Into the blender they went. 'And you are. Of course.'

Odysseus turned the blender back on, noticing Silas's rapidly moving hands. “You say something, lizard-dick?”

Silas didn't even want to dignify that with a response.

“Good morning, all of you.” Abelard stepped into the kitchen and pushed Odysseus to the side: blender and all.

“Hey!”

“Silas, a cup of coffee please.”

Silas slithered in and started on the coffee, same recipe from yesterday morning. Abelard had seemed to like it well enough.

“I didn't get the chance to ask.” Abelard took the time to sift through his paperwork; to make sure that the book he was trying to open was safely nestled inside. “How was your first day of class?”

'Fine!' Silas quickly replied, 'Lots of new recipes and...'

“This seat taken?” Susannah batted those lovely, thick eyelashes up at him. “Honey?”

'A-and nice people.' Silas slid the coffee over. 'Actually, I should get some practice in and--'

“Is double-dicks in the kitchen?” Mira called out as he bounced his chest into the main room. He ducked inside of his chest before pulling out his laptop and headphones. “Make me some cookies! I have an FPS tourney coming up and I need the carbs!”

Silas sighed. 'Guess I'm making cookies...'

Abelard chuckled and finished off his coffee. “Alright, I'm heading out. Does anyone need a ride anywhere? School? Gym? Slaughterhouse V?”

Everyone shook their heads, Silas signing, 'Nephubos is sleeping off his first day of school. I have no idea what everyone else is up to.'

Abelard gave a nod and made his departure. Not even a minute after, Zach walked in from the balcony. “Is Abelard still here?” He asked.

“He went to work.” Mira answered, eyes focused on his laptop screen.

Zach sighed, walking further into the room and picking up the remote off the table. He turned the TV on, the news displaying a breaking news story about a murder in ShimmerGale.

Zach sat down on the couch, shaking his head. “Damn it, Abelard.”

***

Abelard pulled up to the security booth, the mermaid on duty immediately letting him in. But Abelard didn't even get far into the station parking lot before Rebekah landed in front of his car. “Rebekah?” He asked, the dragon stepping around to the driver's side door.

“We need to get going. Now!”

“Of course,” Abelard agreed, “Just let me park and --”

The dragon quickly shook her head. “No, we don't have the time!”

Abelard was confused but he grabbed his briefcase and stepped out of his car. He noticed that Rebekah had a saddle on her back: leather, sturdy.

“I'll explain when we meet up with Izumi and Guang. Hop on.”

She wanted him to ride her. The action seems almost disrespectful, but if the young dragoness insisted...

Abelard latched his briefcase onto Rebekah's side. He climbed onto the saddle and buckled himself into it. He was wondering if he should tighten his legs down until he saw the stirrups. “It's a full travel-harness.” Rebekah explained, “Make yourself as comfortable as possible.”

Abelard did just that. Rebekah broke into a run and jumped: flapping her wings and climbing into the air.

Guang and Izumi were already up above the station, wings keeping them in the air.

“Is everything alright?!” Abelard had to yell, the rushing air at their altitude making normal speech impossible.

Izumi gave a solemn shake of his head.

“Someone leaked the details of Berry's murder to the news!”

“What?!” Abelard said, the horror in his voice accentuated by the volume. How... How had that happened? They were keeping everything on such a level of hush-hush that he wasn't even sure if he should have gone home last night.

“The Chief is folded over in rage about this.” Rebekah said, “We need to solve this case as soon as possible.”

“Baumgarten-sensei.” Izumi looked to Abelard. The wendigo saw the weight, the shadow in Izumi's eyes. “Where should go first? You did some more research after you left the station, correct?”

Abelard's mindset pulled itself together to focus upon the case. “Did you all find anything on Ms. Bubble?”

Yes, the friend mentioned in Berry's final video.

“About that...” Guang gave a nervous chuckle. “So, it seems as though Bubble and Berry were a bit of a cross-species Bestie duo. She's a Blue Fairy.”

“Scheisse...” Abelard hissed under his breath. There wasn't going to be a Full Moon for another two weeks, let alone a Blue one. Abelard shook his head. “No use in focusing on our losses. How about the Pilates studio that Berry was going to?”

Izumi nodded, “Guang has the name. Is that our first destination?”

Abelard confirmed it and, with Rebekah making sure that he was situated well enough, they sped off towards ShimmerGale once more.

 

Strongwood Studio

ShimmerGale District, 8:47 AM

 

“Keep it up, ladies!” A fairy covered in thick, sweating muscles called out to his students as he passed them. He was followed by Izumi, Rebekah, Guang, and Abelard.

Abelard, who was trying to look at everything except for the younger, agile bodies surrounding them.

“Yeah, she was one of my students.” The fairy said, gossamer wings fluttering at his back before they folded against his back. “Though I really don't know why. She never participated in any of my activities. It was like she only wanted to be here so she could post online about it.”

 

You know, those assholes. Who make gyms unbearably crowded to the point that they're unusable? Hey, yeah, you lot who call yourselves 'fulfilling New Year's resolutions' and just use the gym for photo-ops for your social media – DON'T DO THAT! GOING TO THE GYM IS HARD ENOUGH WITHOUT Y--

 

Everyone looked around for a moment. “I feel as though what we were doing was put on hold for a tangent just now.” Izumi stated.

“But, anyway,” The fairy gave a flip of his hair, “Saw her a few days ago when she came to class and did one set before plopping down next to me and talking for the rest of it.” He stopped to pick up a stray towel. “Is it true?” He turned around. “Someone really killed her? Seriously? Who kills an elf? Who kills any fae, Trillium the Fair's probably hunting their asses down as we speak!”

Silence, only broken by music in the background, gave the answer.

“Fuck...” The fairy whistled, “Not that I blame whoever did it though. Shit...” He clutched the sides of his head, “Just thinking about that annoying voice is giving me a headache.”

“Oh!” Rebekah snatched Berry's phone and turned on her final video, “You mean this voice?!”

“OMG!”

It was immediate: the fairy collapsing to the floor and convulsing.

“Which way did she go when she left?!” Rebekah snarled down at the fairy, “Tell me!!”

“Should...” Abelard cleared his throat. It seemed like the three of them had been pushed to the bleachers while Rebekah went on her rampage. “Should we step in?”

Izumi and Guang shook their heads. “This is where she shines.” Guang said.

It took three minutes. Rebekah walked back to the group. “She left the studio and walked due right.”

Abelard felt that the young creatures escorting him around the city (Let's be frank, that's what they were doing), were all powerful individuals. They were the elite police: the highest echelon of law enforcement in this city of beast and fancy.

Guang nudged the twitching fairy on the ground. “I think you traumatized him, 'Bekah.”

“Good.” She turned with a pout.

Children. Even with skill and cunning.

Izumi pointed his arm in the direction they had been given. He closed one eye, trying to focus. “Necessitated degree of motion located.” He announced, “Optimal speed should be a swift jog.” He lowered his arm down, “Let's go.”

Indeed, their feet did take them on a swift trip down what was assumed to be Berry's final walk.

“Wait!” Rebekah called out. She lowered her head to the moss and grass, sniffing and snuffling the surface.

Abelard wasn't inactive either. He knelt down and simply watched. Watched the breeze push and pull the blades of green.

He plucked a single blade and placed it in his mouth between sharp teeth and upon his tongue.

His expression would have soured if it had the muscles to do so.

“This grass is sweet.” Were his solemn words.

This was where Berry had been murdered.

“Not only that.” Rebekah lifted her head. “I'm getting hints of something else.” The dragoness had to think. “It's familiar. Nostalgic.” Her eyes shot open. “Indigo.”

 

The Boutique of the Crystal Globe

Dama Fristad, 11:48 AM

 

“NNNNOOOOOO—HO-OH-HO~!!”

Harun's Crystal Globe boutique was located where the borders of the center of Dama Fristad, ShimmerGale, and Miasmus met.

It was an older building that had been retrofitted with ivory towers, silver fountains, and strong threads hanging there and weaving about; to make it an appropriate bit of inspiration for the much-sought after tailor.

Harun himself was an Achroite Weaver. Looking much like a gem-encrusted tarantula standing as high as a bull elephant with just as much girth in his eight legs and abdomen. The group watched Harun sob and flit around his boutique in a panic.

“Why?!” He screeched, all eight eyes clenched tight as negative thoughts careened through the arachnid's mind. “Why do these things happen to me?! Allah, who's going to wear this dress now?!”

Harun jumped over to his wine cabinet and grabbed several bottles. Another pair of arms seized an armful of pillows. And the third set picked up a bowl of giant beetle bonbons. He fell into his chaise-long, the piece crafted from silver spider's silk, and began sobbing more. “I saw the news this morning; I thought it was a hoax! Al'ama..!” Harun grabbed three bonbons, devouring them with a crunch that bounced and echoed.

“So it's fair to say that you knew Berry?” Guang asked, the phoenix jotting things down once more.

Harun lamented. “Yes, I knew her. She and her fiance came to me for a one of a kind wedding dress. A dress to be the envy of every elf, fairy, and pixie in ShimmerGale. It would be made once and only once.” The giant spider pointed two hands towards the silken gown of pink layers and pastel green petticoats. There was even an accompanying flower crown to the ensemble, an anklet of the same design too. “And now look where I am! No one to wear it!!”

Izumi walked over to the glass case. “It's beautiful.” The Karasu-tengu muttered, running a clawed hand over the front. “Surely someone out there would buy it.”

“No!” Harun downed a bottle of wine, “I never resell anything I create. Everything is one of a kind. Luckily I was paid in advance.” He groaned, “I'll tell you, this may have been one of my most annoying commissions.”

“Annoying?” Abelard asked, Harun continuing on,

“She was so indecisive! In fact,” Harun pulled his massive frame away from his seat and walked over to a pile of silk fabric rolls: each either a different shade of pink or green. “To color my silks, I have to eat something of the desired color in different measures. Do you know how many strawberries and spinach I had to eat because Berry couldn't decide what she wanted?!”

They could only imagine, with how much they knew about Berry by now.

Guang jotted down everything worth noting from the conversation, but he did have one more thing to ask. “Can you confirm that Berry also had an appointment with Cara Mellice?”

Harun sat back down. “Yes, she wouldn't stay quiet about that either.” The spider swooned into the chaise-longe. “If you all will excuse me, I need to mourn the loss of my exposure.”

 

Sucre Descent

ShimmerGale District, 2:23 PM

 

Even from the outside of the cathedral they approached, the scent of slightly burnt sugar was prominent. The cathedral, when one got closer, was made of not glass or ceramic but molten sugar sculpted into the sweeping shapes and curves of a monument of worship.

Abelard stepped to the door and saw the hanging velvet rope swaying by. He gave it a gentle tug and stepped back. Just in case the doors swept outward.

Nothing really happened, though. He listened, tilting his head.

Bubbling. Something was rising up from the delectable depths.

The speaker next to the door crackled to life. “Do you have an appointment?” Said the syrupy, velveteen voice.

“Well, no.” Abelard replied.

The speaker crackled up again. “Well, the unfortunate bit of it is that I can't let you all in.”

Guang rolled his eyes.

Abelard folded his arms, thinking over this current circumstance. “I see... Your home here is breathtaking.”

There was a gap of time before the speaker crackled. “Isn't it though? Every inch, every corner made out of pure sugar. Even my lovely fountain,” Izumi walked over to the boiling fountain pool that bubbled away at a distance, “Is a rotating mixture of every sweet thing this world has to offer.”

Abelard agreed, more confident now that he had a grasp of the figure behind the door's age. “I'm certain that even young Berry could appreciate the aesthetics of your abo--”

“That girl,” The speaker interrupted him, “Wouldn't know Callebaut from Nestle. Sweet Lady Oleanda,” The speaker gave a low exhale, “What an annoying child. Do you know how many times I told her 'I don't allow photography of my work in my home', just for her to whimper and whine ad nauseum?”

Abelard felt as though that was all they were going to get from this. “Thank you for your time.” Abelard turned away, signaling to the others to get ready to leave.

“Abelard.”

The wendigo froze, one of his feet an inch off the ground. How had he... When had he..?

“You enjoy coffee-flavored things, though the typical caffeine level is just barely enough to keep that body of yours going. Your appreciation for the sweet is... notable but not prominent. I see.”

Abelard stayed in place.

“Did you know,” The speaker turned back on, “That a false Full Moon is just as effective at drawing a Blue Fairy as a real one?”

Abelard's pupils contracted for a brief second.

He tilted his head. “Thank you, Master Mellice.”

“Oh please,” The speaker crackled to life one more time, “A creature like you, appreciative of sweet architecture... You can call me Cara.”

***

 

One cup of the essence of snow

The claw of a lycanthrope

Pumpkin seeds from a Princess's escape

The sole of a Witch's dancing shoe

A Capricorn's scale

And a mournful maiden's song

 

It was one thing to ask the Chief for permission to carry the investigation into after-hours territory, but finding all of the ingredients to create a False Full Moon was a Herculian task in of itself.

But after a trip to the Midas Mills Mall downtown, they had just about everything.

Near ShimmerGale's edge, the edge that just barely kissed the beginning of Aquacia's regime, Abelard sat on the edge of the coursing river. There was a pot next to him: cast-iron, the size of a baby. And he was watching the evening skies: the sea of stars being rearranged every time some celestial beast would frolic through.

Izumi made his landing first. “We're all clear on my end, Baumgarten-sensei.”

“All quiet on the western-front.” Rebekah said as she landed.

Guang was the last back on the scene. “Came across some unruly Pegasi.” The phoenix coughed out some sparkly blue feathers. “But they kicked off as soon as I told them to beat it.”

Abelard went straight to work. He tapped a finger to the kindling he had bunched up underneath the pot, the wood sparking to life with that same foul fire.

He would have to destroy these gloves.

In went the claw, doused over by the essence of snow. Abelard worked quick to grind the pumpkin seeds, which were aged and tough, and the Capricorn scale into a powder that was quickly poured into the pot, The last thing added into the bubbling gruel was the Witch's sole and the maiden's song. Abelard turned his head away as he opened the jar: not wanting the melody to burrow into his hearing for a home.

When the miserable song drowned in the crisp, white muck, Abelard stepped back. “Now,” He retrieved a handkerchief from his pants pocket and cleaned off his covered hands, “We wait.”

By the time the concoction gave any sort of reaction, Guang had nestled into a fiery bundle for a nap and Rebekah was struggling to keep her eyes open. Izumi and Abelard were actively standing guard; actively watching, actively waiting.

The boiling broth belched out a shimmering pillar of dust. It climbed high up into the air, into the air above the trees and hills. Once it was high enough into the chilled evening sky, the dust started to hold itself tighter and tighter together. All of the chaotic elements that gave birth to it came together to form a tight ball. It was still shifting, still trying to come together. But the important part for those on the ground was the False Moon's light and how it reflected upon the water below.

The light of a Full Moon upon waters blessed by Trillium the Fair: one of the few things that could summon a Blue Fairy aside from the desperate cry of a child.

Though Abelard was beginning to have his reservations. The voice behind that speaker belied a subtle wisdom: one only attainable from centuries upon the earth. But was their advice what a situation like this needed? He only hoped he wasn't wasting time in this venture.

He didn't want to add to the tears. Tears that were becoming louder and louder with the light of the False Full Moon.

By now, Rebekah was fully awake: smacking her tail to the back of Guang's head to rouse him from slumber.

With the growing intensity of the False Moon, a figure could be seen floating over the river. Not necessarily floating, wings of glass were keeping her airborne. Her dress was a short cocktail number, though it was still the same shade of rich, ethereal blue that all of her kind were bound, by threat of death, to wear.

Her straight black hair was decorated by a simple ringlet of bubbles. An appropriate signal for her name.

It seemed the impromptu summon had caught Bubble at an off time: if the empty martini glass in her hand and her running make-up were any indication. The Blue Fairy was so distraught that she didn't even notice her surroundings

“Berry...” Bubble choked, burying her face in her palm, “Why? Why did this have to happen?!”

Well. This was awkward.

Guang looked to Rebekah who looked to Izumi who finally looked to Abelard. The wendigo looked upon the visage of the mourning fairy and decided.

He was the one who summoned her. He was the one who needed to talk to her.

“Young one?” He stepped forward, “Young one, please. If I could have your ear through your tears.”

Bubble fell to the mercy of the gasp that left her. She whipped her head around, very much a deer in the headlights. “Wh-what's going on? Wh-wh-where am I? Who are you?!”

Abelard gingerly made the introductions and gave Bubble a moment to breathe before asking, “Young one... We are trying to find out who is responsible for your friend's untimely demise.”

Bubble shook her head. “I don't understand. I just don't get it! Berry was, like, annoying at times but who the fuck wasn't?! Is that enough to kill someone over?!”

There was that word again, Abelard thought.

“But I just...”

He looked up again to see Bubble looking at her phone. It had taken the place of her martini glass and she was looking at one of the last pictures she had with Berry: the Blue Fairy and the elf taking a selfie at a concert. “I just want to forget about all this. I keep hoping that this is some kind of fucked up dream and I'll wake up soon. That my phone will ring and it'll be Berry: talking about her Pilates instructor or the newest drink at her fav cafe...”

“I talked to her. The night she was murdered, I-I...” Bubble had to stop and steady herself: her wings threatening to lock up. “I heard everything..!”

“What?!” Guang squawked and Rebekah was about to charge at the Blue Fairy but Abelard held up his hand to stop them.

“Young one,” Abelard offered, “Why did you not inform the authorities? You know it is their job to protect --”

“Protect and Serve, I get it.” Bubble hissed out. Most unbecoming of a Blue Fairy's demeanor. “Maybe in most cases. But not with this. I...” She turned away, covering the her mouth as the tears began again.

Tears... of fear.

“I still remember his voice.” She shivered. “Berry's phone didn't turn off until the battery died, I heard everything... But you know what?” She laughed. A hollow, miserable laugh. “The thing that stayed with me the most? More than the sound of-of a blade cutting my friend apart, more than hearing her choke on her own blood? More than hearing her die and being too afraid to do something so fucking simple as calling for help? It was his voice!!” Bubble cradled her arms about herself, choking back a sob. “'Nothing personal in this. Just a matter of business; the daily grind'!”

Guang flapped his wings in a huff when something snapped in Abelard's briefcase. “What the hell?”

Abelard strolled over, unlatching his belongings from Rebekah's saddle. He had a feeling, but he didn't want to follow it.

Several sheets of paper had been torn by the heavy tome inside opening itself. Abelard gingerly took it out, mindful of the harsher edges.

“What is that?” Guang poked his head under Abelard's arm so he could look at the book.

“The answer to my earlier question.” Abelard said with a voice as heavy as the night long. “Izumi.”

The Karasu-tengu looked over.

“What is the fastest way to get to Necronia?”

***

The skies were always dark in Necronia, Dama Fristad's district of the dead. Of course, there were a few places one could find warm light and greenery.

And by 'a few', it is meant that there's 'one' and barely anyone has seen it.

The entire district is a mass graveyard: buildings falling apart save for the grace of the gods, ancient places of residency and familial bonds leaking the spiritual blood.

The air was dead. No plant-life grew anywhere on the main streets. Again, you could find them if you were willing to journey far enough into the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

“You know what's odd?” Guang whispered, “My mom would always tell me about Necronia. 'Don't be foolish enough to ever fly there!' Heh.” The phoenix chuckled. It didn't last long. “This is what it's like? Being cold, I mean.”

There was no pretense. No one wanted to go inside of the district. They all stood on the border between life and death.

A border that Abelard was too familiar with.

Abelard tugged on one of his sleeves. “If any of you would rather stay out here, I more than understand. I --”

Rebekah shook her head. “We've already come this far.”

“And we can't fly out of here.” Guang hopped over.

Izumi was the last to speak. “We wouldn't be the best of Dama Fristad has to offer if we chickened out now, sensei.”

They were so confident. Strong in word and stature. Even though he could feel their unease in waves.

“Alright.” Abelard looked straight ahead, ignoring the ring of warmth that one of his books surrounded all four of them with. “Don't look backwards. Don't leave the circle. And do not answer the whims of anyone we pass.”

Necronia had a level of civility amongst its morbid populace.

But not on the road that they were taking. They all kept their eyes on Abelard's back, finding it the easiest point of focus.

Izumi's father always taught him to master his fears: to crush them under his talons, to teach them their place. But, still...

“Don't wander too far into Necronia. I won't be able to keep all six of my eyes on you if you do...”

Rebekah's tail reached around to touch upon the Star of David sewn into her vest.

“Are you trying to give me heart-attack?! Flying so close to the Death District! God, give me patience with this child!”

Abelard walked on, not wanting to stay longer than they had to.

'Help...'

'Please, stop.'

'So hungry...'

Abelard clenched his jaw. He walked on.

'I'm lost.'

'Just a second, can't you...'

'So cruel... so awful...'

They just needed to round the next corner.

'She's dying!'

'Just a penny for a loaf of bread...'

'I'M INNOCENT!!'

Down the road. Just down the road.

'You can't fight it--'

'Just give in--'

'It's warmer than you think--'

Even the warmth of Abelard's magic was beginning to fail in the face of the shadows beyond mortal reach. A collection of spindly fingers teased at the edges of the circle.

Then they pulled at it.

'Let us cut your threads--'-- we'll slit your throats so nicely--' 'It will be like falling asleep--' 'don't fight it...'

Abelard kept his eyes on their destination. Just up ahead, the gates surrounding a compound of twisted remains of Georgian-era architecture.

Even with the shadowy depths still tugging at them, the broken last words tumbling after each other, Abelard managed to push the gates open. “Get in, all of you!!” He hissed to the three elite officers. When the three younger Nonhumans made it inside, Abelard yanked the door closed.

The swarm of dark spindling fingers crashed into the gate with the sound of a thousand cracking bones. It shouted, the din of a thousand final words twisted into a lone, miserable noise, but it did eventually move on.

“Why,” Rebekah panted, “Do I feel like our tsuris and troubles are just beginning?”

Abelard helped the dragoness to her feet as Izumi took a survey of the area.

“Where is everyone?” He whispered, mostly to himself, “Not a single creature around?”

“EEEYYYAAAHH!!”

Steel springs creaked and groaned as one body jumped from behind a chimney and landed on Rebekah's back. “Get on it, luv!” The figure cackled, long and high. He dug his steel heels, fastened the exposed muscle of his legs.

Rebekah bucked up against the assailant. She flapped her wings and even tried rolling over in order to get the tormenting figure off.

Two more shrieks. Izumi heard the chains before he could make evasive maneuvers: heavy chains that rapidly wrapped around his arms and legs.

Two more figures, just as warped, just as manic as the first, jumped down from the roofs with their own twisting braces upon their legs.

“Wot 'ave we 'ere?” One of the figures, rusty makeup slathered around her wide eyes and her hair tangled and wild, looked Izumi over. “An artful dodger?”

“Give 'im 'ere, china plate!” Said the other female figure. She grinned in Izumi's face, showing teeth that had been ground into sharp points. “Come on, cutie~! Give us a snog, ah?”

Abelard thought he was doing a good job keeping Guang behind him, but a ruined squawk told him very much otherwise.

He whipped around, seeing two more of the figures. They grabbed the phoenix and leapt across the courtyard.

“Could make a nice pillow out of these!” One of them laughed.

The other added, “And 'ave a nice dinnah after!”

“No, no!” Guang shook his head, “Trust me: I taste awful! Have you ever had Connecticut Grilled Chicken? I taste just like that!!”

Even in all of this chaos, no one approached Abelard. Was he not worth their time?

Did they not want to risk their lives?

“WOT'S ALL THIS THEN?!”

The voice, shrill but deepened by layers of fat, pierced the air. Abelard stepped back as a large figure towered over him. She was fat. So, so very fat. And it was distributed through her body in uneven lumps and rolls.

The makeup slathered around her eyes was a thick bluish-green paste. She looked around to all of her smaller counterparts and pulled her bloated lips into a tight frown. “Yer father's sleepin', you bunch of twits! Think about how hard 'e's been workin' lately and...” She trailed off when she saw Abelard standing in front of her.

“Oh~!” The large female strolled over to Abelard. She readjusted her stained and torn bodice so that her breasts were spilling over. “You one o' them Fancy Wendigoes, ain'tcha? Comin' 'ere in your,” She tugged at his clothes, “Whistle and flute. Ain'tcha cheeky?”

“Ma'am, please.” Abelard moved away from her searching hands. “Please tell your children to let my co-workers go. We're investigating the very serious matter of a murder.”

“Investigatin' a murder!!” The largest female in this group tossed her head back. She was cackling so hard that her rolls jiggled and the braces on her bloated thighs jingled. The others joined her, their own braces clinking and jingling.

“Go on and investigate, then!” A voice from the crowds jeered.

“Gonna find a bit more than you can chew, ah?”

The largest female frowned. She did give a slight huff. Izumi fell to the ground with a grunt once he was freed from the bindings of the two young females.

The young male jumped from Rebekah's back and the two others let Guang go.

“Now, listen 'ere.” The largest female sprung into the air, landing with a small quake: her bloomers showing as her skirts lifted up. “You ain't got any business 'ere. I'd get going if I was you.”

One of the humanoid creatures glanced over to the right of the compound. “Dad's back.”

Something shot into the air with the speed of the fastest jet. It hung in the misty airs above until it plummeted to the ground. He was built like a brick wall: thick arms, thick legs, rounded chest and stomach. His facial hair was rough, unkempt, despite the top hat on his head and the tie around his neck. The only other clothing he wore was a pair of suspenders. But that was a minor detail compared to the monsters that were his leg-braces.

They were bronze and creaked with each minute motion. They covered his feet completely and were screwed right into the bone and muscle: rancid puss squeezing out every time he took a step.

“There's my Jack-y~!” The large female strolled over to the male whose front was covered in stale blood and smelled off rot and death.

Abelard, mostly to keep them occupied with something mental, asked, “You know each other?”

“She's my Cows and Kisses.” Said the large, misshapen creature. He smacked a sloppy kiss on her lips.

At one point the two may have been something resembling humans. All of those who lived here would have.

The large male tossed a spiteful laugh to the investigating group. “Wot's your business 'ere in the Spring-Heeled compound?”

Abelard looked at the two. He pulled out the book his library had given up and opened it to the page that showed the double-bladed chain that killed Berry.

Abelard didn't even have to ask if Spring-Heeled Jack recognized the weapon. The chain was swaying at his hip. “Did you, three nights ago, come across a young elf in ShimmerGale?”

Spring-Heeled Jack leaned back in his chair with a chuckle. “I did.”

Abelard exhaled. “Did. You murder. Berry?”

Spring-Heeled Jack scratched at his stomach with the hand that wasn't in his wife's cleavage.

“Berry, was it?” He gave a wistful sigh: nostalgic already. “Yeah, I think I remember... Coming back to me... Yeah!” He snapped his fingers, “I slaughtered that annoyin' brat like a Sunday Pig. Should've heard her choke!”

Izumi's claws twitched.

“Why?” Abelard closed the book. “Tell me why?”

Spring-Heeled Jack wagged a filthy finger in front of Abelard. “Now, you know be'er than to go around askin' a Spring-Heeled that.”

“Slaughterin' pretty young things is our culture,” Spring-Heeled Josephine, Spring-Heeled Jack's wife, laughed, “If someone's willin' to fork ova good money to see someone's innards on the sidewalk, why not?”

“She was going to get married!” Abelard hissed up at the grotesque creature. “Is shame a concept beyond you? What about pity? Anything?”

Pink claws stepped forward. “Her ring.” Rebekah said, “Where is her ring?”

The Spring-Heeleds all started to cackle and laugh around them. But Rebekah stood her ground. “You've already taken away so much from Pine Needle. From Bubble.”

The laughter turned from obnoxious to raucous.

“You can at least give us back her ring!”

“Oh, come off it!” Spring-Heeled Josephine reached into her bosom and pulled out Berry's wedding ring. “'ere!” She tossed it over, “If it'll get you lot out of 'ere.”

Even as Rebekah caught the ring, Abelard wasn't done.

“Who hired you, then?” The wendigo stepped forward.

Spring-Heeled Jack removed his hand from his wife and walked over. “Don't gotta tell ya!”

“This is beyond you now.” Abelard didn't stop.

“Too damn bad.” Spring-Heeled Jack didn't either.

Both of them didn't stop until they were face to skull. “Tell me who hired you.”

Spring-Heeled Jack shoved Abelard to the misty ground. “Get over yourself!” The large creature sneered, pulling his double-bladed chain from his hip. “You know you ain't got nothing on me!!”

Izumi shot forward like a bullet. He flipped at the last second, racking his talons across Spring-Heeled Jack's face. The force he put behind the action toppled the creature to the ground.

“Bottle and GLASS!!” Spring-Heeled Josephine shrieked at the sight, the sound rolling through all of the buildings. More Spring-Heeleds fell jumped down to the courtyard. Chains were spun, giant scissors brought out; a few of them even pulled on surgical masks and pulled large blood-caked medical scalpels.

“Let's go!” Guang gave a mighty sweep of his wings, a plume of fire erupting between them and the Spring-Heeleds. Rebekah retrieved Abelard's belongings and Izumi grabbed Abelard himself before they all tore out of the compound like bats out of hell, a swarm of homicidal maniacs chasing them down.

“There's the gate!” Abelard shouted, the group pounced out the gate and panicked to lock it shut from the outside.

Just like the shadows from before, the Spring-Heeleds crashed against the gate with a cacophony of shouts and struggle.

Guang made sure that the gate would hold. “Long enough for us to get the hell out of here, at least. Izumi, what the hell was that about?”

Izumi walked away for a beat. “He was going to kill Abelard. At that point, everything we did was self-defense.”

Guang didn't agree. “We have to keep Cultural Immunity in min--”

Izumi bolted over, Guang crouching down away from his captain's fury. “SELF-DEFENSE, GUANG!”

The phoenix trembled. He nodded up at Izumi. The Karasu-tengu turned around. “Chief wanted this case solved by the end of tonight. I don't think we'll be able to manage tha – AH!” He bumped into something warm and solid enough to send him to the ground.

Abelard jogged over, already preparing another circle. “Wait.” He slowed to a walk, “Gahiji?”

“Abelard!” The sphinx bounced over, “What are you doing here? If I knew you'd be on this side of the town,” He looked at the elite officers, “And with friends! I'd have asked Silas to help me make a picnic!” Gahiji tapped a paw to his mouth. “We can still go eat! What's everyone in the mood for?” He bounced around the group, lips curved into a smile, “I was thinking donuts! But I can go for Chinese, we could go to a deli, we could get sushi--”

“Young one, please.” Abelard had to sigh. “We're trying to work. Maybe we can go to dinner next time.”

Guang brought out his notes. “Guess we're back at stage one.”

With everyone turned away, Gahiji pouted and began rolling around on the misty ground. His eyes washed over in a bright flash. It quickly faded and Gahiji asked Abelard, getting back to his feet. “Why are you doing this?”

The question was so absurd that Abelard had to turn around. “Because... we're working.”

Gahiji shook his head. “No, what I meant was... why are you doing this? When you already know who is truly responsible for this murder?”

“What?!” Guang and Rebekah shouted, “What do you mean he already knows?!”

Abelard was bewildered. What was Gahiji talking about? How did he already know, they were investigating? Investigating a case that was starting to, quite frankly, annoy the very threads of his sanity.

A...

…

Annoy.

“She had the annoying habit of talking a mile a minute...”

“Just thinking about that annoying voice is giving me a headache...”

“I'll tell you, this may have been one of my most annoying commissions...”

“Sweet Lady Oleanda, what an annoying child...”

“Berry was, like, annoying at times but who the fuck wasn't?! Is that enough to kill someone over?!”

“I slaughtered that annoyin' brat like a Sunday Pig. Should've heard her choke!”

 

“Damn that aggravating child. Look at all the trouble she's gotten us into now.”

***

 

36 Gelfing Boulevard

ShimmerGale District, 11:32 PM

 

The front door of the mansion cracked inwards. The doorman, dressed for bed at this time, rushed out from his on-site bedroom. “What is the meaning of this? I should call the police this instant!”

Abelard stepped past the man without a second thought. When Rebekah made it in, she passed the doorman with a, “Luckily we're already here.”

Their destination was the main dining hall of the mansion. It just took a moment to find due to the urgency of the situation.

Abelard forced open a pair of doors. The space inside was large. It was dark. And, at the head of long dining table, a cup of Darjeeling tea in her fingers...

“When I sent the doorman to the Press,” Dam Ivy looked down her nose at the uninvited guests, “I was of the impression that you all would have at least been suspended from your ranks.”

Abelard stayed where he was. There was a malice in this room.

“She was your daughter-to-be.” He asked Dam Ivy. “Why? For what reason could you have--”

Dam Ivy slammed her cup to the table. “That money-grubbing little slut is no daughter of mine!!” A dozen thick vines knocked Abelard back. They blocked off the entry to the dining hall, obstructing any attempts at apprehending her.

“Feh! Now what?” Rebekah asked, “I could burn these vines down but, even with Guang, it will take me at least 40 minutes!”

Dam Ivy poured more tea for herself. “Long enough for you all to hear.”

Izumi signaled for everyone to hold off on any action. Once all went still, Dam Ivy spoke.

“Pine Needle. The only child I was deemed to be blessed with. I went above and beyond making sure that he had the best; that he would grow and live with finery always. So!” She stood to her feet, “You tell me how it came to be that my outstanding child would saddle himself with some slutty, aggravating little gold-digger?!”

***

Berry looked at her phone in bed. “Ugh, this is so #Unfair.”

Pine Needle, who was in the middle of removing his shirt, asked, “What is it?”

Berry pouted and looked down at the tent in Pine Needle's boxers. “The new De La Cruz Ivory Beetle Racers just came out and I'm, like, the only elf in ShimmerGale with a De La Cruz Sapphire~!” She tossed herself to the side with an enunciated sob. “You don't love me~!”

“Berry...” Pine Needle sighed, laying on her so that his face was in her breasts. “You know I love you. More than anything this side of Dama Fristad.”

Berry only pouted.

But it was so cute that Pine Needle chuckled. “That's why...” He reached underneath her pillow and pulled out a brand new set of car keys. “I got you two of them.”

Berry's eyes were as wide as baseballs. “Oh, Piney-baby~!”

Outside of her son's bedroom door, Dam Ivy seethed at the obnoxious display.

***

“Constant obnoxious manipulations like that!!” Dam Ivy was starting to sway: far too much emotion. She braced herself upon the table, panting and heaving. “And my poor, stupid child was too enamored to see how awful she was for him! She wasn't smart, she wasn't talented, and she's just a bastard orphan! What good was she to him?!”

“But he loved her.” Abelard's voice pried through the vines. “How could you even entertain the notion?”

Dam Ivy huffed and turned away. “17 million for a corpse is pocket change.” She shook her head, “No. No, the actual issue at hand is finding a nice elf for my son to marry. One that isn't trying to drain his pocketbook dry.”

She sat down in a chair that faced away from the blockade. “You wouldn't know.” She told Abelard, “The sacrifices that parents make for their children.”

She could smell the flames. Feel them burning the vines down.

“Do you think he'll hate me?” Dam Ivy asked. When she didn't get a response, she continued, “She was just so... awful.”

The vines were giving way. Dam Ivy took a deep breath. Th fresh scent of Pine was already reaching her senses.

The heavy footsteps upon her lovely dining room floor. She was sure none of them had wiped their shoes before coming in.

“Dam Ivy.” One of the officers said, “You are under arrest for First-Degree Homicide: Conspiracy to Murder and Murder. Anything you say can and will be held against you in the court of Justice set by our Dama Fristad. May the fates have mercy on your soul.”

Dam Ivy allowed herself to be taken. “You know what?” She took a glance and saw her husband already calling up lawyers and tricksters and son...

Looking upon her with such hatred. Even when Rebekah handed him Berry's ring.

“I'm beginning to wonder if I even have one anymore.” The officers continued leading her out of her home. Chief Cruikshank was shouting orders and the doorman was struggling to keep out any nosy parties.

“By the way.” Abelard addressed Dam Ivy as she was being escorted away. He had been standing near the front door, waiting for the lady of the house to make her final exit. “I'm a father of three. All on my own in a country not my own. So, perhaps it is you, with more money than is mortally conceivable, with a spouse to lean on, who wouldn't know about the sacrifices parents make for their children.”

Dam Ivy was quiet after that, even as she was placed inside of a police car and carried away in a sea of judging gazes.

“Good work.” Chief Cruikshank walked in front of Izumi, Rebekah, and Guang. “Hopefully you all continue to live up to your status.”

“Sir! Yes, sir!” The three saluted. The kelpie then turned to the wendigo.

“As for you.”

Here we go, Abelard thought.

“After barging into my office,” The Chief shook his mane, “Taking my elites on a scavenger hunt through the city, and almost causing a cultural hate crime. Do you know what I do to punks like you?!”

Abelard honestly didn't care at this point. He was so tired he almost missed the glint of gold that shot at him.

He caught it, though he winced as he felt a crack. Abelard shifted his holding hand and examined the object. A small gasp left him.

The star divided into six pieces, the ancient words engraved on the edges of the piece, and the engraving of a wing crossed with a sword in the center.

“Welcome to the force.” Chief Cruikshank turned his back to the wendigo. “Don't make me regret this.”

***

When Abelard made it home, he tried to do so as quietly as possible. Even though Gahiji was still wandering around town somewhere, he didn't want to wake anyone up and start any arguments that he just didn't have the energy to humor.

Abelard placed his belongings in his room and then went back to the kitchen for something stiff and dry.

“I was beginning to think I needed to call the police,” Zach said, Abelard ignoring him as he passed. He quickly turned around.

The wendigo held up a finger.

He quickly lowered it. No arguments. Not now. “Have you seen my...”

Zach walked to the counter and slid two items over to Abelard. One was a glass, the other was a bottle of German brandy.

“Asbach Uralt.” Abelard reached for the bottle. But he reconsidered and used his less dominant hand. He poured himself a glass and unhinged his jaw so he could down the warming liquid.

Zach brought over his own glass and Abelard poured him a glass too: though the hand he was using was shaking a little.

Zach took a slow sip; not needing to drink right now but not wanting Abelard to drink alone with the visible weariness in his shoulders. “Do you want to talk?” Zach offered.

But Abelard shook his head.

“I'm just tired.” He looked down at his hand, the one that had caught his badge.

“Just tired.”

15: Let's Do Lunch

“Gahiji~!”

“Yes?” The Sphinx, who had been walking down the street with a bag of dry-cleaning on his back, turned around to see a human man rushing over to him.

The human gazed up at Gahiji. The warmth and adoration was palpable in him. “Here!” The man held out a basket of muffins. They were still warm, all smelling of lemon zest and bittersweet chocolate.

“I just wanted to see that you got these.” The human said, “Was thinking of your...” He swallowed as he looked over that lustrous mane and those the thick thighs, “Ahem. Your beauty and wanted to make a small offering.”

“Muffins!” Gahiji bounced over and took the basket in his teeth.

The man bit back a heated groan. Gahiji's lips, even in a brief touch, were warm and soft like blue lotus petals drifting along the Nile on a Summer afternoon.

Gahiji set the basket on his back. “Thank you!” He turned and bounced on his way, leaving the man to dream and fantasize.

***

Gahiji had just dropped off the dry-cleaning bag. It was a favor for Zach, Abelard, and Silas; the latter overly paranoid about anything happening to his culinary uniforms. He couldn't wait to get home and have some of the muffins. “Mm...” He stopped, his cheeks puffing up into a pout, “I wish I had some tea to go with them...”

He was too busy pouting to himself that he didn't notice the chorus of footsteps approaching. Nor did he notice the several hands offering him cups of tea from all the nearby cafes, and even a few homemade contenders.

Gahiji rested a paw to his cheek. “Maybe hot chocolate instead?”

The first group of guys were shoved aside when new contenders came with offerings of hot chocolate.

“Wait, no.” Gahiji giggled, “Definitely tea.”

The first slew of guys shoved the hot chocolate carriers away and offered their tea again. Gahiji finally looked around, humming, “Oh! Where did all of you come from?”

***

“How?!” Silveste neighed as Gahiji walked into the apartment. He had been watching Gahiji's swathes of affectionate fans from the window and he was simply perplexed. Silveste shook his bouncing mane and continued, “How is that you manage to succeed in the acquisition of the attention of homo-sapien males when I can barely get a secondary attempt at a glance?!”

Gahiji tossed a cranberry muffin into his mouth. “Well...” He carried the word in a circle. “I guess I can't take all the credit. After all...” His paws were gentle on the floor as he moved to get the remote. He turned on the TV to the news, the current story showing a picture of the Sphinx in question. “I'm one of Dama Fristad's most sought-after bachelors~! Whatever that means...”

Blancher bit into his muffin. “Pretty popular?”

“Pretty ditzy.” Bruner said, taking a sip of tea.

But poor Silveste could only fall to the ground and nicker out his grief. “I submitted my profile to the news ages ago~! And what has come of that venture? Nothing of any conceivable merit or value!”

It was at that moment that a cortex of frigid, stale mist formed in the wall. Fane stepped out of it, clutching something to his chest covered in a velvet blanket.

“Hi Fane~!” Gahiji waved, “I brought muffins!”

The phantom brushed him off; going straight to his room and shutting the door. Blancher and Bruner both looked to the ground to see the trail of muddy boot-sprints that Fane had left in his wake.

A second later, Fane barged up the stairs from his room and marched straight into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, a scowl appearing on the side of his face that had lips. “There's no food!” He slammed the fridge shut.

“But...” Gahiji pointed a paw at the basket, “Muffins!”

“Ugh..!!” Fane groaned, “There's no food! Where the hell is that shitty, normy human?!”

Mira's chest opened, the mimic yawning and letting his tongue loll out before shutting itself and reopening with his favored visage. “It's way too early to hear your bitching, kid...” He pulled himself over to Gahiji and Silveste. He took three muffins and started tearing into one of them. Mira made it halfway through one and looked over at Silveste's depressed state. “Aw, still single?”

“And I haven't the slightest inkling of a reason pertaining as to why..!” Silveste sobbed.

Fane scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Maybe because no one wants to be a horsefucker?”

“What?!” Silveste gasped but Gahiji promptly interjected with,

“Loki seemed to like it well enough.” Said Gahiji. “Oh! And Zach went to the gym this morning. Said he'd be back around... 2-ish?”

“Oh my fucking God..!” Fane sat down at the table, getting ready to start another major bitch-fit.

Gahiji hummed and thought for a moment. “Wait... Thinking... Thinking...” His eyes flashed brilliantly, the light quickly seceding, “I've got it! I know where we can get you some food and you some advice on approaching your future bride or bridegroom!” He had pointed to Fane and Silveste in that order.

“And where's that?” Fane folded his arms, not wanting to waste time with these two giant idiots. “I don't want to be seen outside of this condo with morons like you unless I...” Fane gulped, his eyes trailing away from his bitter focus point. “I...”

Silveste was already in the middle of asking what had the phantom flushing green when he noticed bat-like wings and a long, striped tail.

“Thank you for calling Stellar Go Wireless.” Suraj spoke into his headset. The Rakshasa silently yawned, curved fangs glinting in the kitchen light, before setting a kettle to boil. “My name is...” Suraj squinted down at the clipboard in his claws, “Steve.” He rolled his eyes, “How can I help you this morning?”

Suraj stretched his arms out wide while he waited, the stripes along his skin bunching and tightening along his biceps.

Fane shot up from his chair. He stormed over to Gahiji and folded his arms, “Let's go already! Are you idiots just going to sit there or are we going to go eat?!”

Silveste nickered and shook his head. Honestly, if the phantom was a few years older, no one would be tolerating his abrasive nonsense. Even with him being the Grim Reaper's only heir.

But Gahiji bounced up, smile as bright as ever, “Okay! Off we go to Pearl Avenue!”

***

Bare feet padded across the well-worn fabric of a boxing ring's floor. Zach, dressed in naught but the flowing pants and belt of the martial arts, stepped towards the center where another body was waiting.

Rory, the young man who ran the bookstore, wrapped half a roll of bandages around his forearms. “Please, be gentle.” He requested of Zach, who rolled his shoulder and cricked his neck to the side.

“I'll try not to bruise you.” Said Zach. Rory gulped down his whimper. He set his glasses down in the corner of the ring and walked back to Zach: getting into position, his arms up in a defensive pose.

Both men were only a few feet from one another. Neither moved to the offensive.

Rory gulped, wide eyes keeping Zach in sight.

Zach's face was impassive. As always.

Zach swept his left foot around himself, his body turning with the motion that led into him striking at one of Rory's arms.

Rory endured the hit with the slightest wince. He leaned back and regained his bearings in time to block another hit from Zach.

Neither of them spoke. Rory ducked away from a punch and took Zach by the arm. Gently, always gentle like the Spring breeze, Rory redirected the strength from the would-be blow and nearly had Zach falling to the ground.

Zach braced himself upon his palms before his chin hit the mat. He rolled into another punch and, when Rory looked down, he swept him off his feet with a well-placed kick.

Rory hit the mat with a loud 'thump'. “R-right then.” Rory coughed. Was the world spinning? Or was it just him?

Zach righted himself and walked over. He gave Rory a hand up. “1 and 0.” He said. “You want to go for another bout?”

“Of course!” Rory jumped up, eyes bright with his anticipation. “I'm going to get the upper hand on you one of these days! Besides, we haven't even broken a sweat.”

Zach watched Rory go back to his side of the ring. He let out a neutral sigh and got back into position.

-->

Not even three minutes later, Rory was back on the ground: his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach from a particularly harsh kick.

Zach scratched the back of his head. “I'll go to the First-Aid booth to get some heating pads.”

“Okay...” Rory groaned. He watched Zach head down the hallway that led deeper into the gym. He laid there, pain lancing out from his abdomen. A Barghest happened to stroll by the ring and glanced at the crippled form laying on the vinyl.

“I think my stomach and my liver switched places.” Rory whimpered.

***

The center of Dama Fristad was connected to the ShimmerGale District by Air-tram, but its connection to Aquacia, District of Cleansing Waters and Rising Tides, was accessible by the mighty canals of pristine waters.

And, even then, traveling down them was possible only thanks to the admired efforts of both the great Traveling Turtles who called the diamond-clear waters of Dama Fristad their home, as well as the Charon boat company.

And, indeed, the boats that traveled through both Aquacia and Necronia's still, lifeless waterways, were all overseen by that greatest of boatkeepers.

However, it was on one of the Traveling Turtles heading into Aquacia that Gahiji, Silveste, and an ever-perturbed Fane found themselves upon.

For the third time during the ride, Blancher and Bruner had to help their prince regain his balance. His pointed hooves just weren't suitable for the rocking and bobbing of a chelonian boat ride.

“Hooves and Sugar-sparks!” Silveste groaned as Bruner held him steady, “Please inform me that we have completed the journey to our utmost destination already!”

The Traveling Turtle turned her head towards her passengers and huffed, “You think you have it bad? I have a two-hundred ton furry sitting on my spine!!”

Gahiji looked over the Traveling Turtle's side. His eyes flitted to and fro until he shoved his face into the fresh, cool waters. Those topaz eyes watched the watery depths grow from simple canal to the beginnings of Grecian pillars, great domes carved out from the opalized remains of giant tortoise shells, and grand archways.

A school of rainbow trout swam by, chased by two Hippocampus fillies.

Gahiji pulled his head back. His soaked mane was spilling over his eyes and the majority of his face, but his smile was at full-force. “We're almost there!”

“Oh, thank Siklon!” The Traveling Turtle groaned out. She pushed her flippers to give her that final boost to get this trip over with.

She had a freight full of kelp and a schooner's worth of aspirin with her name on it.

***

Everyone filed off of the Traveling Turtle. Some had to get straight to work, in either the fishing yards or the dozens of therapy centers the district had (both physical and metaphysical). Others quickly rushed off in favor of seeing the sights of the watery district. For, while ShimmerGale was a district of lush forests and air-trams, Aquacia was the district of crystal waters and a thousand different boats. Our main group got off and Gahiji promptly led the way down the ivory road: the pure white bricks embedded with various seashells and opalescent fossils.

“Just a bit further!” He announced, a bounce in his step. “And, while we're walking, we can keep talking! Silveste!” Gahiji slowed down just enough so that the others could catch up. “What do want most in your bridegroom?”

Silveste replied, “Well, to share the truth along with the conceptions, I am open-minded enough, regarding my choices, to look for a spouse among both sexes. However...” He looked out at the giant sea-like canal where a human man was paddling out in a boat, his selkie wife and son wrapping themselves in their seal coats before jumping off; promptly shifting into frolicking seals.

“I'd like for them to be fair, to be of kind heart, and of knowledgeable pursuit.”

Fane rolled his eyes. “You could probably start off by not insisting that any human is going to want to suck your horse dick.”

“So unrefined and uncouth!” Silveste neighed, “Also, ignorance is displayed upon your face like a summer sunrise upon the valley! Blancher!”

The white donkey walked over and gave Silveste his wand. It shined from its place in Silveste's muzzle, a glowing portrait appearing in front of them. “When a member of the Royal Winterdust family has successfully courted a spouse, they are presented with a choice. They can become a unicorn.” The glowing picture showed the stick-figure melting down and reforming as a unicorn. “Or the Winterdust member can choose to become a human.” The portrait shimmied, showing two stick-figures. “When my mother courted my father, he gladly took the change upon himself to become a unicorn; the love that they have for one another is one to be admired, celebrated, venerated--”

PHWEEEE!!!

They looked to the canal to see a mermaid officer, all pouty cheeks and glaring eyes. “Like, hold your ground, boys! Unless you want to swim with the fishes, or, whatever.” The mermaid officer made sure that everyone was safe on the sidewalk. She blew her whistle again and sliced away from the nearby bridge.

The rumbling came first.

Then the crashing, choppy waves.

A massive hand broke through, with webbing between the tremendous fingers; each ending in a menacing claw the size of a school bus. It was dotted in rough, jagged barnacles.

It was covered in great, smooth scales that glimmered from the stormy oceans and forsaken sapphires.

The gigantic hand seemed to calculate for a moment. It plucked the bridge away, simple as a summer peach, and dragged it underneath the waters.

The claw broke through once more in order to place a new bridge in the empty space. An exact replica of the former, but without the nicks and stains of age and wear.

The hand made sure that everything was fastened correctly. Then, with a thundering crash, it sank back down beneath the crystalline waters.

“Okay!” The mermaid officer announced, “You're all cleared to cross!”

“Whoo-hoo!” Gahiji bounced, not minding the puddles in the least. “We're almost there!”

Fane frowned as a wave of water got way too fucking close for his liking. He shook his head, “What makes you such a wonderful love-expert?” He waited for Gahiji to stop his happy bouncing, “I mean, you're obviously a virgin --”

“No I'm not~!” Gahiji said, popping up behind the phantom much to Fane's wide-eyed shock. “You're so silly! You remind me of my best friend Anubis!”

 

Somewhere, in the Land of the Dead, the agonizing howl of a friend-zoned beast rang through the lifeless vales.

 

“I should have come to that conclusion,” Silveste said, allowing Gahiji to pass him, “You truly do possess a magnetic persona and wit --”

“HOW?!” Fane sputtered out, his one eye blown in horror, “WHO?! I mean, fuck, it would be like sticking your dick down a hallway!”

Gahiji stopped in front of a particular building. “Hey!” Fane walked over, Silveste following, “I want an answer to my question, you fat, furry fuck.”

“We're here!” Gahiji announced, ignoring Fane's inquiry. Fane and Silveste looked up to see the chaotic mish-mash of Eastern architecture and Greco-Roman influence. “I got a bunch of gift cards to this place earlier! I hear that they have really good shaved ice!”

***

A glass tray the size of a king-sized mattress was set upon the table. It was piled to the ceiling with every edible cut and hue of fresh seafood one could imagine, and some beyond that boundary.

“Please, enjoy!” The Taniwha who was working as their waitress offered before slithering off to help another table.

Fane forced his face into an unimpressed frown. Nevertheless, he placed a napkin upon his lap and dug in before anyone else could. With his mouth soon full of deep-fried halibut, he glanced over at Gahiji. “You still haven't told me.”

“Hm?” Gahiji looked down at Fane, half of a lightly-seared blue marlin down his throat. He dipped his head back, the large fish sliding down his throat. “What was that?” Gahiji asked, licking his lips and searching for another large piece.

“Your virginity, you dumb piece of shit.” Fane snapped, “We were literally on this ten minutes ago.”

“Oh, right!” Gahiji sat back. He cleaned his paw and rubbed it against his cheek. “His name was... Hm... Was it Cyanippus? Acamas? No, maybe Menalaus...” Gahiji finally jumped up from his chair. “I remember now! Diomeda, that's his name! I should give him a call to see what he's up to...”

Silveste had been drinking from his cup, a tangy Blue Hawaiian. He spat it out when the name traveled through his ears twice and kicked him in the skull. “Diomeda?” He asked, “As in 'the deciding factor of the Trojan War, the subterfuge by which Greece claimed victory, THE Trojan Horse himself' Diomeda?!”

Gahiji nodded. He picked up a plate of sliced tuna and took a bite. “Yep! If I recall --” His eyes flashed. “Oh, I remember now. It was the summer that I turned 1600 years old. He was traveling through the kingdom on some sort of escapade.”

Gahiji sighed as nostalgia rolled through his senses, “I just remember him being so much bigger than me: so much bolder and he could really fill a room. You have to understand...”

***

'Back then, I was really shy. And my self-esteem wasn't all that great either...'

The sun god, Ra, let his bounty shine down upon the earth: scorching the backs of the slaves working on various buildings and temples.

Ra made sure that the crops and animals had enough sun before he descended closer to the earth, to converse with their guest.

“You're a long way from the Grecian shores, young one. As hospitable as my children and I are, I am curious. What is your business in my domain?”

Diomeda chuckled, his mane shifting with the motion, “I am a wandering spirit, exalted one. I just wish to see the world's rarest treasures. After all, I've done my duty on the field of battle. I think I've earned some leisure time.”

Diomeda dipped his head down to drink from the golden trough in front of him.

Something trembled in the shadows.

Not lifting his head, the Trojan Horse looked in the direction of the movement: to the shadows of a nearby hall.

Hello...

Oh, the little thing (as little as anything the size of a full-grown bull-elephant could be called) was shaking like a leaf. All skinny limbs and a mop of a mane that reached down to the floor. A wide topaz eye carefully peeked out of the mess of hair. It looked around the courtyard and, upon noting that Diomeda was looking right at him, the young Sphinx turned tail and ran off.

“I wasn't aware that a new sphinx had been born.” Diomeda hummed.

A wash of flame surged up behind him. He held his breath as a saber-sharp claw was pressed up against his neck.

“Touch one hair on that kitten's head,” A female voice hissed, “And I will spill your blood into the Nile.”

The flames subsided as quickly as they had surged up. Diomeda took a safe breath before excusing himself.

Horses were known for being stubborn. Why would the hero of the Trojan War be any different?

16: The Storm Rises

Gahiji, in the present, gave a handful of gift cards to the waitress when she came by at the end of their meal.

How did a sphinx, a unicorn, and a phantom manage to finish off a veritable mountain of sushi, fish and chips, caviar, and God knows what else?

They didn't. They were already thinking about how to get it all home. “Do you think everyone will like fish for the next, I don't know, two weeks?” Gahiji asked.

“Well,” Silveste said, “The only flesh that Suraj refuses to partake of seems to beef, so we should be fin--”

“You let a rocking horse pop your cherry” Fane frowned.

Gahiji pouted a bit. “Anyway,” He started, “After him I dated the Piraeus Lion for a while until we decided to stick to being good friends.”

 

“Mom?” A little girl who was visiting Venice, family vacations and the like, tugged on her mother's sleeve, “Is the big stone kitty supposed to be crying?”

 

The entire restaurant staff arrived at the table to start boxing up the leftovers. “And, you know what? It did wonders for my confidence and outlook on the world!” Gahiji smirked at the young phantom, “You'd benefit from it, I think.”

Fane's face went neon. “Wha-what?” He looked to Silveste, desperate for an out.

Silveste merely shrugged. “Members of the Winterdust family are required to abstain for intercourse until marriage.”

But Gahiji wasn't done yet. “In fact,” The sphinx walked over to Fane and gave him a persistent nudge in the shoulder, “I think I know a certain someone who would be glad to help you.”

The neon-green conquering Fane's features turned fluorescent and began spreading to his skeletal half.

Gahiji was taking this to a downright malicious level. Silveste almost thought he should step in but, really, Gahiji wouldn't keep this up too far, right?

Right?

“NO!” A voice screamed in blood-curdling horror from three waterways off, “My baby! They took my baby!!”

Gahiji quickly stopped his teasing and bounced over to the front of the restaurant.

“What's going on?” Silveste carefully followed, his steps only hastening when Blancher and Bruner came to his side. By the time that Fane joined them, Gahiji had just enough time to pull another umbrella out of the ether before a wave of water splashed all of them.

“Fucking assholes!” Fane grit his teeth, “Hey! What's the big fucking deal?!”

He didn't get an answer. Not from the pearl-white speedboat that whipped and careened over the clear waters. It was covered, bow to stern, in thick sheets of white armor. The only pieces of color to be found upon the vessel's form were the stark black insignia upon its side and the shining orb rattling around inside of the connected cage.

A mermaid officer was busy writing a ticket for someone who left their peach-boat parked in an emergency tide when the boat got close. Her breath slowed to a death's crawl when she laid gaze upon the crossed blade and rose over a dragon's head; all surrounded by a ring of burning leaves.

She whipped her head around and shouted into her clamshell radio. “HUNTERS!”

The staff of the restaurant ran to close up shop. “Sorry! We're done for the day!” They said in clipped, panicked tones.

“Wait!” Silveste galloped to the locked doors, slamming his pointed hooves against the glittering surface. “Please! Let us in to wait this out!!”

His whole body jerked when he felt something on his shoulder. “Your Majesty...” It was Blancher, Bruner continuing,

“We need to get you to safety.”

All mirth had left Gahiji. He was trying his best to keep his face neutral, but even his words were shaky when he turned to Fane and asked, “Can't you portal us out of here?”

“Oh so now you want to grow the fuck up!!” Fane snapped up at the sphinx. “Also: NO! I can't!” He whipped his arm out beside himself, “There's too much LIFE here! I can't even save myself let alone the two of you!”

“STOP IN THE NAME OF THE DAMA FRISTAD!!” A sonic-boom shattered the air. A blur of black and the ruffling of feathers told anyone nearby that it was Captain Oshiro. Admittedly far from his usual jurisdiction. The karasu-tengu beat his wings to overtake the speedboat, just to have it veer into another waterway.

Gahiji, Fane, and Silveste grabbed the opportunistic bell by the handle and started running down whatever solid sidewalk they could find. There had to be somewhere to take shelter from... them. There just had to be.

***

Inside of the boat, a video screen popped up. It showed those inside a live-view of the boat's rear-view, especially the determined karasu-tengu chasing them down.

Several glowing lines of text popped up on the screen, arrows growing to point at random parts of Izumi's body.

Several keys and buttons were pressed in response.

***

The cage with the squishy, shining sphere moved aside in favor of a small cannon the size of a man's leg. It bobbed and jerked, pointing towards Izumi.

Izumi readied himself to dodge any bullets or harpoons that were sure to be sent his way.

BOOM!

The canon let loose with a bolt of electricity, striking Izumi before he could react.

The captain plummeted into the water. His feathers and cloud-light clothing quickly soaked up water. It pulled the unconscious officer further down. Down, down into the rapidly cooling depths.

A blade-sharp row of fins rose up from the depths. Longer than the world's largest cruise liner and twice as tall. One of the giant hands that had fixed the bridge faded in. Izumi's body floated down to it, dwarfed by the massive claws and scales.

Six eyes, each of them burnt with a color of the sea surrounding the slitted pupils, looked to Izumi. A bubble encircled the unconscious demon. The water inside spilled out and was quickly replaced with life-giving air. The six eyes swept up to the ocean's surface, narrowing at the retreating speedboat.

A growl, deep and low and potent as a whale's song, caused the very waters of Aquacia to tremble.

***

The speedboat took another sharp left on a fast but practiced route through Aquacia. It slowed down near a recently-abandoned music storefront where it had a clear view of three running creatures.

Though, in all honesty, only two of the three were running. Fane had Gahiji's mane in a tight grip as the sphinx ran down the sidewalks with Silveste. Fane looked to the left and gave a sharp tug. “Stop, you idiots!”

“We can't stop now!” Silveste screamed, “We have to get to a haven of safety and good tidings before those Hunters can--”

Gahiji rested a paw over the unicorn's mouth, his gaze meeting that of the speedboat's darkened Plexiglas windows.

***

Inside the speedboat, the screen snapped back to life: this time showing a live-feed of the sphinx, the unicorn, and the phantom on the ivory brick road.

A swarm of words and arrows flashed when the camera zoomed in on Silveste's horn. A gloved swiped to the right, more words popping up as the camera landed on Gahiji's headband.

***

The speedboat revved to life. The cannon aimed itself anew, engines burning with new vigor. A net of thick, smoking threads dripping with tar.

Silveste reared back onto his hind legs. The net crashed into him, the viscous tar searing a criss-crossed path over his pristine coat.

“Blancher!” Silveste neighed. His normally serene eyes were blown wide. Every time he moved the tar burned more of his hair away. “Bruner!!”

Both donkeys ran onto the scene from their searches for shelter. As soon as they saw their prince's distress and the encroaching boat, Blancher rushed to the prince's aid. He seized the worst of the foul-smelling net in his teeth; grinding, pulling, biting.

Bruner ran for the water, his hoof-steps fast enough for him not to sink beneath the churning waves. He ducked away from a second and third net, and turned around near the boat. He hopped onto his front hooves and cracked a mighty kick of his back hooves into the side of the speedboat.

The resulting dent was nonexistent, but the impact sent the speedboat rolling, skipping across the waves.

Blancher's teeth tore the net with a resulting sticky snap. He spat out the tar and remaining threads and helped Silveste get to his hooves; Bruner returning to the road. “Leaving now?” Bruner asked, Blancher nodding,

“Leaving now.”

A mechanical arm grew out of the speedboat's side. Grabbing the side of a building, it flipped the boat back onto its bottom. The engine cracked and sputtered but it didn't deter those inside. The speedboat sliced through the waters, the metal arm replacing its clamps with a rotating blade. The whirring that accompanied the spinning blade would bounce around your eardrums without respite.

“Hey, wait a minute!” Gahiji stopped in the middle of their escape. “Fane, you can't die! Why are you running?”

“Because maybe,” Fane gritted his teeth, “I don't want my mom to find out I'm out here looking like this!!”

The speedboat swiped by and, with a swift swing, had Gahiji crying out in pain. He shook himself so hard that Fane was flung into the waters.

Gahiji's screech of pain tore the few frayed edges of calm that this part of Aquacia had. He whimpered and moved back: his careful paw-steps gingerly kissing the bricks below.

The speedboat's arm surged forth with the same saw, Gahiji's blood beading up and falling down

To the road

Below –

A pillar of flame erupted behind Gahiji: its heat and intensity scorching the road, nearby waters beginning to steam.

The savage roar of a lion rang out as a body tore through the pyre, claws surrounded by concentrated flames slicing through the first layer of the boat's defenses.

When the majority of the flames settled, she was visible: the body of a woman, a goddess. From her elbow down were the powerful hands of a lioness. From her thighs down she had the mighty legs of the hunting queens of the savannas. The head of a lioness rested on her shoulders, satiny hair whipping behind her; partially held out of her face by a warrior's brace. The speedboat attempted the pull back. The goddess glared down at the boat, eyes burning like the flames surrounding her claws. She dug her claws into the layers of armor and pulled the vessel back towards her, roaring once more. Steam whirled out of her mouth between her fangs. She hurled the boat through the air and it whistled as it approached solid ground. Bruner leaped forth. Lifting one leg he slammed the boat away with a heavy kick.

The speedboat spun out over the water. Two more mechanical arms shot out from the sides of the steel blight. The cannon was functional again.

“Sekhmet!” Gahiji yelled. The war-goddess looked behind her, sliding away from the grappling hook and chain launched at her.

Blancher had found an empty enough alley for Silveste to take shelter in with the others. He had even managed to dredge Fane out of the water. “Stay.” Blancher insisted before charging back into the fray where Sekhmet and Bruner were still fighting the speedboat.

A bolt of electricity just missed Bruner's ear. The boat's water-cannon clipped Sekhmet's leg. She burned through it, extending her claws.

“These waters will run red with your blood!!” She yelled and ran over the water. However, she soon stopped.

Stopped and jumped back to the road.

Silveste noticed that Blancher and Bruner were getting out of the water as well. “Now what's happening? I don't think my heart rate can withstand any more abrupt discordances from the norm!”

The speedboat quickly retracted its arms and its canon. The skies, at once a pristine blue with only a few white puffs of clouds, were quick to dissolve into a lofty blanket of black and grey.

KRA-KOOM!!

Thunder cleaved into the thickening skies; lightning bolts worthy of a mighty storm clashing against the water and slick buildings.

The speedboat's engines choked and sputtered despite the desperate attempts to get them started for a retreat. The increasing choppiness and darkness told them that something big was coming. They had been trained for this. They just had to get back on route. They just had to--

“IF I'VE TOLD YOU LAND-WALKING FAILURES ONCE...”

One of the giant hands broke through the waves.

“THEN I'VE TOLD YOU A THOUSAND TIMES...”

A second monstrous hand shot out from the clean waters. They braced themselves upon the road and one of the larger buildings respectively, pulling along tenacious arms piled high with taut muscles covered in dense scales.

The waters exploded, surging up this way and that. They rained down in thick torrents as one of the hands seized the boat, which looked like a mere toy in its grip, and held tight.

Despite frantically trying to restart the engines, the speedboat was brought in front of six infuriated eyes; each burning with one of the ocean's hues.

Half-humanoid, Half picean, and entirely covered in those scales. The rows of fins on his back flexed and extended. The gills lining his pale white chest slowly opened, exhaled both water and air, and closed again. The six eyes blinked, their primal rage never diminishing.

The titanic beast roared at the diminutive speedboat, eight mountainous rows of saber teeth shining with every flash of lightning.

“STAY OUT OF MY DOMAIN!!!” He crunched the boat in his palm and, quickly plucking the cage from the twisting debris with dexterity unheard of for those beastly claws, he hurled the wreckage into the sea. Before it made contact, two tentacles surged out from the churning waters and tore the boat into two pieces: each half leaking oil and pulpy blood. They toyed with the screaming metal for a few minutes, slowly sinking into the boiling waters a moment after.

When the last greasy black bubbles popped, and the remnants of blood had faded into the water, the titanic beast rolled its six eyes.

“HUMANS... SO FUCKING STUBBORN...”

There was a 'pop' behind where an ear would be on a human man. He followed the noise with his eyes to see Izumi flying towards him. He landed upon his shoulder, adjusting himself like a pirate's parrot.

“The chief isn't going to like this.” Izumi said.

“MAA...” The larger creature chuffed, “LET THE OLD HORSE DIE OF COLIC FOR ALL I CARE. HE KEEPS YOU FAR TOO BUSY FOR MY LIKING ANYWAY.”

He tossed a beyond-toothy grin in Izumi's direction, a bright flush seeping up through black feathers.

Back on the ground, Blancher and Bruner surveyed the area. Even with the stormy weather, the latter clipped a hoof against the ground.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Silveste peeked his head out of the alley. “Are the two of you certain?”

“Your fat ass is crushing me!” Fane shoved Silveste out of the alley. He brushed down his hoodie before scoffing, “Why the hell did I even come out here with you two idiots? Everyone knows that Aquacia has the worst human problem in all six districts. Siklon is such a lazy fucking – Shit, shit, SHIT!”

Those massive claws plucked Fane up before he could spit another word. His senses were filled with the overbearing wash of sea salt and crushed seaweed.

The hand held him in front of the beast's eyes. A mighty gust of salty air left the beast's mouth. It would have stolen Fane's breath away had he been mortal.

“I THOUGHT I SMELLED THE SOUR SIDE OF DEATH... AREN'T YOU A BIT FAR FROM NECRONIA?” Siklon, Aquacia's Guardian and Keeper of the Seas, gave Fane a once-over. “DOES YOUR MOTHER EVEN KNOW THAT YOU'RE OUT HERE? WHAT ABOUT AKELDAMA?”

Fane rolled his eyes. He kicked and swung his legs, determined not to whine like a child. “Put me down, you Deep One knock-off!” Izumi and Siklon looked at one another. It was the police captain who sighed, “Please put him down.”

Siklon glanced at Fane. The insufferable little bastard. “OKAY.”

Siklon let Fane fall to the waters below without a second thought. “ONTO MORE IMPORTANT THINGS...”

Izumi gave a tired sigh. “Siklon...”

“ONTO MORE IMPORTANT THINGS...” Siklon insisted, taking the rescued cage from where he had it hanging from a fin.

***

Zach stopped short of the deliciousness that was a side of pastrami on honeyed rye in the gym's cafeteria. “I feel like I'm going to be subjected to a fountain of bitch when I get home.”

Rory simply tilted his head.

***

Siklon easily tore the cage open and, with that same impossibly gentle touch, he brought it down to wave-level.

“Hello?!” A mermaid swam onto the scene. She was dressed far more casual than her sisters in arms: simple creams and whites, her hair pinned back in a loose tail. “Please! Has anyone seen my baby?! Please, I --”

Siklon's claw gently nudged her towards where he was holding the sphere for her. “My baby!!” The mermaid grabbed the egg and did a flip, she was so full of joy. “Still shining. Still round. Still perfect...” She nuzzled her cheek against the smooth surface, trilling to the growing life inside. “Thank goodness.” Looking up at Siklon's colossal form. “Thank you, Uncle Siklon.”

Siklon lowered into the waters, more waves forming when he shrugged. “GO ON, GET ON HOME.”

The mermaid nodded and, after one more bow, she swam off to find the basket she had been carrying her precious bundle in.

***

Gahiji had to suffer Sekhmet inspecting him for injury. She forced his head to the left, to the right, and pushed him back onto his hind-legs. “Sekhmet~!” He whined, “I'm fine! And the cut's already healing~!”

Sekhmet paid him no mind. She finished up and yanked Gahiji's head down, despite only being a third of his size.

“You need your wings.” The war-goddess harshly whispered.

Gahiji flinched back. “I'm working on it.”

Sekhmet didn't seem to satisfied with that. She stepped back and exploded into a pillar of flame. It soon vanished, leaving another scorch mark in the sidewalk.

Gahiji sighed. He shook himself of any excess water and walked over to Silveste. “Well, that was exciting. Did you still want to go try meeting --”

“Take me home.”

Gahiji blinked and leaned closer, noticing Silveste crouched down into vulnerable position. His entire frame was the victim of tremors. His eyes were blown wide and his mane was beginning to frizz up and tangle. “C-come on Silveste.” Gahiji reached out a paw, “The hunters are all gone now.”

Silveste wasn't hearing it. He rapidly shook his head, his voice escalating with each syllable, “Take me home! Take me home! Take me home!”

Blancher and Bruner helped their prince to his hooves and started slowly leading the way to the nearest Traveling Turtle pier.

“H-hey!” Fane sputtered out as his head broke out of the waves, “Where the hell are you two dipshits going? Hey!!”

A crack of thunder tunneled through the clouds, heralding the freezing sheets of rain that soon fell to the world below. Fane grit his teeth and turned to Siklon, “Fucking seriously?!”

“Let's just go.” Gahiji dredged Fane out of the water and set the phantom upon his back, sadly bouncing after Silveste and his guards; the vibrant hues of the day's outing being washed out to pale grey.

17: The Couple Who Make Toys Together...

The branches on the large oak tree outside of their home began to sway with the morning light.

With a low bleat, a head of tight black curls peeked out from their covers. He scratched one of his long, furry ears and undid a tangle of his hair away from his upward curving horns.

He scratched at his stomach, just where the treasure trail began melting into his hairy, goat-like legs.

“I swear, the morning keeps coming sooner and sooner.” The faun tipped his head back into another yawn and then hops out of bed. His cloven hooves, thankfully, land on soft carpeting instead of tile or wood. He didn't want to give the other body in his bed a rude awakening.

He clip-clopped into the attached bathroom. Sleeping in the nude did wonders for one's morning bathroom rituals.

The shower head came to life with a groan, steaming water pouring down deep brown skin and the curly black hair covering it up in certain areas. His arms, underarms, chest, and his goat legs.

“Being a handsome son of a bitch should not require so much effort.” He lathered up and, soap still on his person, grabbed for the razor sitting in the cup hanging on the far end of the tub.

Very far.

He chuckled and got to work once the blade was in his hands.

***

Puffs of steam had escaped from the bottom of the bathroom door and fled to the upper part of the bedroom. The faun, dressed in a purple bath robe, clopped back into the room: curly hair trying to poof up with its new moisture.

The faun... He needs a name.

Risco gently tugged away a corner of the bed's blankets, a smooth plane of spring jade twinkling in the morning light.

The faun took a moment to drink in her presence. The light danced along her jewel-like exoskeleton in celestial marks. The curve of her two pairs of antennae and the double-edged points of her forearms were held tight to her frame as she slept.

Risco gave her a soft pat on the shoulder. “Hey. Rise and shine, love of mine.”

The Mantida tried to roll away from the gentle touch and smooth words. She slowly opened her eyes, compound lenses needing a moment to readjust to sunlight. “It can't be morning already~!” She sat up and stretched out her blade-like arms. Risco watched the adorable way her mandible clicked with her yawn. “Shower's ready. I'm gonna get started on breakfast.” Risco told the Mantida.

Mo Chou nodded, already undoing the curls in her antennae.

***

The kitchen had some size to it, despite their home being relegated to one floor of a larger building. Risco flipped the eggs and meat-hash he had in one pan before tending to the other pan's bubbling hotcakes.

Mo Chou sat at the table, reading on a grassy green tablet. She tapped the screen, skimming through what popped up. “How many orders do we have today?”

“Six to start,” Risco said, plating the food and setting it down on the table. “Along with two consultations.”

Mo Chou picked up her plate, as much as she was able, and started eating. “We have to stop by the Septette Mines later. Our raw materials are running low.”

“Speakin' of runnin'...” Risco popped his collar and made sure that the lapels of his purple rainy suit were proper before clip-clopping to the door. He yanked it open and saw a drake dressed in a gaudy uniform of rainbow capris and a metallic rainbow vest. “Spectra Coffee Delivery!” The drake said, “'Bringing Color to Your Dreary Life – So Cease Your Tears and Put Down the Knife'.” He sighed, “That'll be 15.87.”

Risco handed over the money and took the delivery box. The door creaked to a close, just to be interrupted a third of the way. “Um...” The drake tapped his talons against the ground. “Tip..?”

Risco could only scoff. “Boy! You is out of yo' got-damn mind if you think I'm tipping you! I pay a monthly fee of 32.99 for mornin' coffee delivery at 9:30, Mondays through Thursdays. It is almost noon! Where the hell were you?!”

The drake only scoffed again. Risco rolled his eyes and kicked the door shut. “Boy was probably 'bout to spend it on some hotline bling or something. Hey! Baby-girl!”

“Is that the coffee?” Mo Chou asked. Her arms clinked together when she clapped, like crystal goblets. Risco opened the box up and pulled out the four cups of coffee inside. “You want cream and sugar?”

“Do we have any honey?” Mo Chou asked. She worried her mandibles a bit. “Actually, no. Cream and sugar is good.”

Risco went and got both from the cabinet. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.” He said. Mo Chou covered the side of her face, a windchime of a giggle leaving her.

“Oh, fine. Honey, please.”

Risco held Mo Chou's coffee just out of reach. “Hm... Please what now?”

Mo Chou pouted, her gossamer wings extending out behind her, “You are the worst~!”

“Nah,” Risco mixed in three spoonfuls of honey and a splash of cream into the cup, “You love me.”

Just before he handed it over, he popped a straw into the cup.

Mo Chou gladly took the cup, balancing it between her sharp arms. A careful sip, to gauge the temperature. Her eyes lit up with a smile. “It's perfect.”

Risco leaned onto the table, dumping a fistful of sugar and half a glass of milk into his own coffee. “Yeah...” He chugged down the majority of his cup. “My hair is looking pretty damn hot today.”

“Risco~!” Mo Chou pouted and hit the faun in the arm.

***

The unassuming building that Risco and Mo Chou called home was nestled near the hills of ShimmerGale, standing beside a great oak tree. They lived on the second floor, of course, but the first floor that they were descending the stairs to... that was their livelihood.

“Baby-girl,” Risco started turning on the glass lanterns mounted on the walls and counters, “Can you flip the sign for me?”

“Mm-hm!” Mo Chou nodded and walked to the front doors and windows. Risco continued his work in lighting the lanterns, each bulb of delicate, fey-kissed glass sculpted into some manner of erect penis.

The veiny staffs of humans, the rods of minotaurs hanging heavy with extra skin, dangerously rigid draconic dongs, and more all pulsating with soft light which caressed the wares of the store.

Mo Chou weaved through aisles of sweet-smelling lubricants and aphrodisiacs mixed from secret recipes of spices and floral extracts. She stopped to readjust some of the vibrators on the display rack, quickly following with a dusting of the leather and chains wall. When she got to the storefront windows, she flipped a sign leaning there from its visage of a moon-headed figure wrapped in nothing but black shibari ropes (the word 'Closed' written above) to a sun-headed figure bent over a table to expose their goodies to the world (the word 'Open' scrawled above their ass).

***

In the back room of the shop one could hear the 'whap-snap' of latex gloves. Risco fought his fabulous hair back into a ponytail.

He snatched a stainless steel bowl, a plastic cylindrical mold and a jar of not-quite-purple powder.

“Need more materials after today...” Risco grumbled. He poured two cups of the powder into the bowl and set it over a lit flame built into his work desk. “Marine jelly.” He hummed to himself, sinking down to where his elbow propped him up. “Night Dust. Binding sap. Foundation clay.” The mounting expenses made him shake his head. “Fuck me by the sea of Galilea...”

Thus was the price of business.

***

Mo Chou sat at the main counter near the front of the store. She was keeping an eye open for customers but her arms were deep into the motions of mixing her own concoctions. “Aloe gel for the base, flax oil, green tea...” Mo Chou flipped through her notepad of recipes; always next to her when she worked. She nodded when she saw what she was looking for. “Anise,” She mixed in, “Carageenan, a puff of ginger, and rose extract.”

Mo Shou set the bowl on a safe part of the counter. She sent it spinning in place with a slice of the air next to the vessel.

The chime of the door was the seductive siren's cry. Mo Chou sat up straight and looked at herself in the counter's reflective top. She readjusted the circlet of pearls on her head and checked her antennae bounciness. “Hello~!” She clapped her arms together. “Welcome to Eros and Mine! How can we help you with your pleasures?”

“Come on!” Two young creatures walked in. Dressed in a mini-dress that clung to her skeletal frame, the Calavera girl was dragging her friend, a timid, vibrantly-colored Alebrije into the salacious storefront.

“I'm still not so sure about this...” The Alebrije said, twiddling her claws together. She looked up from and the first thing that greeted her eyes was a giant neon-green dildo.

“I changed my mind!” She rapidly shook her head, her multi-toned cheeks burning over.

Mo Chou walked over just when the teasing was about to go to another extent. “Hello?” She placed herself between the two, “Did you two have any questions?”

The Alebrije squeaked out, “Well, I --”

“Okay, so, like, she is terrible when it comes to dates. Like, mucho malo. So she probably needs, you know, the biggest, blackest dildo you guys have to get her rocks off.”

The Alebrije whined, covering her face. “You know what? Let's just go, I don't...” She peeked an eye out, whining and hiding once more, “I'm ready for this!”

Mo Chou's shoulders slumped a bit watching the young creature being bullied by her friend. “Maybe!” She carefully wrapped an arm around the Alebrije, easing her away from her boney friend, “A more... private consultation would work better.”

She swept the younger creature away to one of the store's consultation rooms and closed the door before the Calavera could complain. “Okay.” Mo Chou nodded, “Now that certain annoyances are out of the way...”

“She means well.” The Alebrije took the moment to breathe. Too simply get a full chest of air and gently exhale it. “I think.”

Mo Chou offered the Alebrije a seat. “Now, I won't deny that having a toy is a great asset. Something to help you unwind from the stress of an arduous day~!” Mo Chou swayed on her four legs. She quickly caught herself. “But I won't deny that its something that you have to think about. There's no shame in deciding that it isn't for you.”

“N-no!” The alebrije shook her head. She held her claws up, folding them together just to keep them occupied. “I do want one. I, um... I'd be lying if I said I haven't been, well... I...”

Mo Chou gave the younger creature a gentle tap upon her shoulder. “Frustrated?”

The alebrije blushed all the way up to her pointed ears. A quiet nod was her answer.

Mo Chou stepped back. A glance to the right. A look to the left. She scuttered to the furthest wall in the room, searching through the box on the third shelf. “The best thing is to start off simple; to find out what you like before venturing any further. Here.”

The alebrije opened her hands to accept what Mo Chou was offering. It was a pink pouch, with the soft kiss of velvet and a silken drawstring. She opened it up to reveal a small unassuming device. It was round, a bit on the flatter side, with a round crystal on the back.

“This is the Comfy Cocoon 3.” Mo Chou explained, “The perfect toy for beginners.”

“How can you be so calm about this kind of stuff?!” The alebrije started panicking again. Mo Chou walked over and sat down next to her. “It's okay. Exploring your body, learning what feels nice, appreciating the beauty that is yourself... It isn't anything to be embarrassed about. And buying a toy should never be something that stresses you out.” She giggled. “Especially when you are trying to get rid of the stress!”

The alebrije looked to the toy. Then to Mo Chou. Her shoulders were still tense, but they were at least trying to ease up now. “Okay.”

“Perfect!” Mo Chou grabbed a small slip of paper, no bigger than your finger, “Now, it has ten vibration settings and three speeds...”

***

Risco's eyes narrowed to emphasize the glare he was giving to the material in his hands. After a few minutes of a rolling boil, he had poured it into a log-like mold. However, that was the least of the work he had to do. There was a pile of pictures next to him. He pinned one to the wall behind his work desk; thousands of pin-holes in the same space.

Even with this new vantage point, though, he wasn't seeing what he needed. “Come the fuck on...” He pulled open a drawer to retrieve an inspection glass. Looking at a picture of a succubus's pussy would have sent any other person into a thrill, but for Risco it was just business.

Difficult business since he couldn't get a good view. “Damn it, I told that boy!” He tossed the inspecting glass aside and pulled down a magnifying glass. “'If you want me to make this thing, get a GOOD picture of your girlfriend'! But nah~! No one ever listens to me! After all, who the fuck am I, right? Only the faun that's makin' a replica of your girlfriend's pussy for you to fuck while she's modeling in Milan! Damn!” He put the picture at an angle. “Finally!” He exhaled, getting a proper angle at last.

Up went a sculpting spatula! From the left came a modeling point. The debris brush didn't want to be left too far behind.

'Tear down the wall!

Bring this family together again!

Make this a land

For the glory of monster and man..!'

Risco kicked a hoof into the dresser behind him. His phone flew threw the air. It landed on his shoulder where he was quick to press his cheek up against it. “You've got Risco; give me the down-low” The faun's fingers were pressed down only a fraction. It glided through the material, carving out thick outer lips and smooth inner-grooves. “Oh, hey! Yeah... Yeah, your order's ready. You can come pick it up anytime before 8 o'clock.” Risco brushed away the excess debris before working on the actual hole: smoothing it out. “Well, if I'm not here, Mo Chou will help you out. … Okay, see ya then.” Risco let the phone slide down into his apron pocket. He hopped into a spinning chair, sliding across the workshop until he got to his glass bookcase of completed specialty works. “Let's see, which one was it...” He opened and rummaged until he saw it. An oral toy with a tongue shaped into two tentacles that, upon the snap of two fingers... Risco watched the artificial tentacles writhe amongst themselves: hunting out a decent mouthful. Risco eventually turned it off and set a small tester kit of Eros and Mine's best lubricants next to it.

***

Careful...

Careful...

Having blades for hands often made mixing things an ordeal. Mo Chou had the bowl of warming lubricant she had mixed precariously balanced on her hand. She tipped it over, a mere bit, and let the fluid pour into a prepared glass bottle.

She just had to fill it two-thirds of the way--

The door chimed, Mo Chou panicking a bit and causing some of the lube to spill onto the counter. She sighed, “Well, I can't say that this is the worst stain to show up here.” Mo Chou stood up and greeted the newcomer, “Welcome to Eros and Mine! How can we help you find your pleasures?”

A young man walked over to the counter. “Hey, so...” He sighed before scratching his head, “Okay. Okay, let me just get it out. So, my fiancee, she's a Hulder – straight from Norway, stacked like a model – the last time she went home to visit, she got me a present that,” He frowned, “Well...”

Mo Chou watched the human drop a harness onto the counter. To be fair, the craftsmanship was admirable: black leather, cashmere lining, and 24+ karat gold buckles and latches. Yet even with all of that, Mo Chou could see that there was a bit of a, well... size-discrepancy.

“Of course we can get that better fitted for you! Please,” She held an arm out towards one of their fitting rooms, “Right this way.”

***

The young man got undressed while Mo Chou made preparations of pins, a notepad, measuring tape, and a pair of scissors. “Okay.” The young man said, turning around and folding his arms over his chest binding.

Mo Chou got right to work. Jotting down the first bout of measurements, she asked, “Were you two going to need to look into attachments or anything?”

The young man shook his head, “No, no. The one we have at home fits into the mount and its able to get both of us off, the damn harness just doesn't fit my hips. Even at the tightest latch.”

Mo Chou nodded, jotting down more details.

“Okay.” She picked up the harness and handed it to the human. “Can you just put it on so I can get a visual of what I'm working with?”

She turned away to give some privacy while underwear and packing were removed. She listened to the clinking of chains and harnesses until the human said, “Okay, this is as good as it gets like this.”

When Mo Chou turned, the Mantida could see that this harness was just not going to be good if they left it like it was. She placed some pins in needed areas and jotted down some more details before telling the human, “Alright, we're all set.” Mo Chou turned around to scribble down everything she would need to do. “Did you want to come back later or would you be fine leaving this here with me for a few days?”

“Yeah, I can come back next week.” The human offered, pulling his shirt on. “I know its in good hands. Err... Blades.”

***

“Go on,” Risco told the Leucrocuta who was picking up their long-awaited commission, “Get in the fitting room and see how well it fits.”

Risco leaned up against the wall, closing the consultation room so the creature could have some privacy. “You'll find that the inner-textures provide a pleasurable contrast to the outer lips. I'd recommend the Salacious Sizzling Sap lubricant to accompany it. One of my baby-girl's best recipes, not that you asked.” He tapped a hoof against the floor. “The hole inside is firm but still manages to present a soft experience, especially rubbing against the ti – Okay, you know what?”

Risco turned and barged his way into the room. Immediately, his voice could be heard screaming, “Oh, hell nah! This room is not meant for that! There are plenty of good gloryholes down the hall!”

***

“Whatchu want for lunch, baby-girl?” Risco hung his apron up on the wall by his workshop. When he got closer to the counter, Mo Chou handed him his favorite purple jacket. “Can you get something from Li Gong's? It's 3-for-1 Day on entrees and desserts.”

Mo Chou handed him his leopard-print ascot and helped him tie it, managing it without cutting the fabric. Risco looked up at her. “Got it.” He smiled and signaled for her to lower her head.

“Oh?” Mo Chou blinked and did as asked. Risco immediately pressed a kiss to her forehead, “Be back in a bit. I'll tell the miners you said 'hi'!”

“Risco~!” Mo Chou face burned bright and she placed a blade against her cheek.

***

From ShimmerGale to the Septette Mines and back, along with restaurant stops, took an hour and a half.

And then there was the matter of traffic.

“What in the name of Dionysus is goin' on today?” The faun slammed his fists against the steering wheel of his delivery van. He rolled down the window and asked the homunculus in the sports car next to them, “What in the god damn is the hold up?”

“Mammoth-Dragon asleep in the road.” They replied and, on cue, the wooden street lights faded to red.

They were all going to be stuck there for a while.

Risco's groan was obnoxious. He put the van in park and went to check on both the food he had bought as well as the materials he had picked up from the mine.

Everything seemed okay. The Night Dust filled its barrel, the small amount of light from the rear window twinkling it in like evening stars; the Foundation Clay would need an earthquake to jostle its sturdy nature.

Risco tossed another thin sheet over the three boxes of Marine Jelly he had bought. “Don't need this melting before I can get it home.”

The faun walked back to the driver's seat and buckled in for the long wait. Cars, trucks, and carriages on every side of him. He looked up to see the slow blinking of the red, red stoplight...

 

 

Red lights flashed in a beating rhythm. The bass thundered and electronic twang pulled at the ears in the downtown club Amadeus. Both humans and nonhumans were writhing bodies against each other, downing drinks of all matter of potencies.

A tankard of ale was lifted, bottom's up, and quickly downed. It was slammed down on the counter, Risco wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Another round!”

“Another round!” His friends all raucously agreed with stomping hooves and whooping yells. When the next round of drinks was being laid out, Risco decided to walk around the club. Just for a change of scene, a breath of air.

He was a fond acquaintance with drink and debauchery; all fauns, as children of Dionysus, were. Risco had just graduated from school, hence his friends and him celebrating, and truly he felt a bay lifted from his shoulders.

Though a new typhoon was surging. What was he going to do now? He leaned over a glass barrier and looked over the sea of dance and drink below. He had a small fortune saved up, an inheritance from a favored uncle, but he didn't just want to squander it with food, fuck, and drink.

He leaned back to get a good look at the sweet piece of tits and ass that walked by.

Yeah. It was a tempting thought, but he really needed to think about his future. He would be foolish to waste the new opportunities ahead of him. The world was fresh, was fertile, was green like the entrancing expanse of jade in his line of sight –

“Got-damn!” He whistled. Risco walked along the wall and got a better look at the bright-eyed beauty with the four legs that went on for miles.

A group of Mantida sat around a small table covered in tall drinks with branch-length straws. And the Mantida came in differing hues, one pink, one blue, even one white. But the one who had Risco's eyes leaving his head was the green one in the middle. Her compound eyes shined in the limited lighting of the club and her face lit up upon hearing a joke from one of her friends.

Risco booked it down to the first floor of the club but, of course, slowed down to a confident stroll when he was a few heads away from the table. “Gotta have a good strut. Bitches love the good strut.” They also liked someone who knew how to dress, so he was sure to readjust his ascot and his jacket.

***

Mo Chou and her friends' laughter was audible, even through the music flooding the air and causing the floor to vibrate. “Oh...” She wiped away a tear, “I'm going to head to the restroom. I'll bring drinks on the way back!”

Her friends sent her off and the Mantida carefully walked around heated bodies and oil slick conversation.

“Hey, baby-girl.”

Mo Chou meeped when she felt the warm weight of an arm around her waist. Her arms twitched, preparing to defend herself.

She turned and saw, well, just saw a creature so handsome her legs started to tremble from the close vicinity. Rich dark skin and shining jerry curls down the back of his neck, his horns polished and strong. Oh, and when he spoke!

“Kind of chilly tonight, ain't it?” Risco asked Mo Chou. She wanted to laugh because it the club was absolutely boiling. But she did want to hear what else he was building up to.

…

… Damn it, he was cute.

Risco chuckled, “Mind lettin' me use your thighs as earmuffs?”

Mo Chou blinked down at Risco with those big wide eyes. Her mandibles twitched. She fell into a peal of laughter that clinked in the air like celebration glasses.

“Yeah?” Risco chuckled, bumping his hip into her side. “You like that? The name's Risco, what can I call you besides 'baby-girl'?”

Mo Chou thought for a second. She then decided that she wanted to see where this was all going to go. “Mo Chou.”

“Mo Chou, huh?” Risco smirked, “Well, I fo' sho want some Mo Chou.”

“Oh my goodness~!” Mo Chou cackled, covering her face with her blades, “You are awful! So awful!

18: ... Stays Together

From then onward, the idea of lovebirds was more like 'love... goat and bug'. Risco and Mo Chou were almost constantly at one of their apartments or the other. Mo Chou had never had an admirer or boyfriend before. It was a wonderfully refreshing experience from the day-in/day-old of the long shifts at Greenvine Urgency Clinic. And Risco was such an interesting individual to have around.

It was so nice to hear about his inspirations and his dreams. Well, that and it didn't hurt that he was one handsome, horny son of a bitch.

"Okay, so," He said one day when they were getting coffee from Spectra Coffee Emporium, "If you had to bend it over for a minotaur, a hydra, or a harpy --"

"Why do I feel like this is the set-up for a terrible joke?" Mo Chou laughed. Risco kept on.

"Uh-uh, come on baby-girl. Let me know what I'm workin' with!"

"Oh you~!" She shook her head. "Well, I wouldn't really know. I think I'm more fond of fauns, actually."

Risco looked up at her. It was his turn to look away. "Damn, you can't just go and say things like that, baby-girl."

It just brought him deeper into the rosey mire that was his growing affection for the creature next to him.

***

"So..." One of Mo Chou's friends asked her while they were at work during the following week, "You've been spending a lot of time with that faun."

Mo Chou couldn't deny it. "I know." She gave a wistful little sigh, "I really like being with him. He isn't too pushy, he seems to really enjoy my company..." She gave one of their patients their afternoon medicine and whisked off to the next, “I think he might be--”

***

“-- The one?!” A balding old faun sputtered out, starting the process of treating Risco's hair. “Boy!” The old faun began slathering softening crème to the hair in thick handfuls that held that unnatural sweet scent that hair products, even hair products for nonhumans, always seemed to bear. “You is barely 25 years of age. Talkin' 'bout 'the one'...”

“Mm-hm!” A female faun who was braiding another faun's hair agreed. “You are sprung for this girl, honey.”

Risco rolled his eyes. Not that he could do much else now that the faun on his hair was starting to apply the perm. “Well I like her. And that's what's most important.” He thought for a second, watching his hair being wrapped in curlers, “Well, that and thinking of what to do with my life.”

***

In the skies above Dama Fristad, Ra yawned and retired. The gesture was the opening needed for Tsukuyomi, Japanese god of the Moon, to ride across the skies on his elegant mount: a rabbit with fur like milk and eyes as bright as the stars. Wherever the rabbit stepped in the skies, spots of nighttime darkness would spout forth: slowly growing outward until the setting light had been overtaken by the rising dark.

His hands were so warm on her hips. Mo Chou rocked on top of the faun beneath her. She pulled away from the kiss, face pink from a lack of air and a sudden rush of embarrassment. “I'm not too heavy, am I?”

“Nah, baby-girl.” Risco rubbed down her side, “You're nice and thick, just how I like.”

Mo Chou smiled and leaned down to kiss Risco again. Then.

She felt something throbbing against her.

“Hm?” She moved away to get a better look. The sight of the tent forming under the sheets. Just what he needed, damn it this was embarrassing. He was supposed to be cool about this, not pop a boner at the first bit of skin-on-skin contact.

“Is that...”

Risco braced himself...

“Your penis?!” Even from where he was laying on the bed, Risco could see the hearts forming in Mo Chou's eyes as she looked at him. “I've never seen one in real life before! I have so many questions!”

Risco coughed, his dick twitching a bit. “Um...” He scratched at his chest, “O... kay?”

Mo Chou pressed the back of her blade up against the underside, Risco shuddering. “That's a bit, ngh, cold, baby-girl.”

“How big is it?” She asked.

“About seven inches hard.” Risco laid back against the pillows, deciding he may as well get comfortable.

“How often do you masturbate?”

“Twice a day when I'm busy. Way more often if I'm bored.”

“Is it sensitive?” There was a bit of a smile in Mo Chou's voice. Risco didn't think much about it until he felt something sticky and wet around the tip of his cock.

“H-holy shit...” Risco's eyes clamped shut, his senses needing to block one of their own out to prevent a sense of overwhelming. He cracked one of his eyes opened, groaning at the sight that greeted him between his legs.

Mo Chou moaned, her feet curling as Risco's cock scrubbed against her tongue, all thick heat and salt. She wanted to try and swallow around Risco. But a mouth full of sharp teeth would have turned that into an embarrassing hospital trip.

With nothing to grab, Risco was forced to dig his fingers into the sheets beneath him as he pumped his hips. “Between those bright eyes and that pretty pink tongue.. Fuck, almost there.” Furry hips strained against the burning need to buck upwards as Mo Chou got more curious. Mo Chou licked anywhere she could get, lowering down further to wrap around his balls.

It was all slow, all careful. But wet, slick, and enticing all the same. Risco's breath was heavy. Mo Chou's next words only made the fire rolling in his belly even worse.

“Your penis is so cute. Um...” She swallowed, “I can't suck your cock like a mammal could... But, if it's okay, could you fuck my tongue until you come? Just so I can taste what it's like?”

Risco choked, his heart thundering in his ears.

Mo Chou's laved across the engorged head, the soft noises she made vibrated down her tongue to his dick.

“Baby-girl!” Risco panted, fucking upwards into the slick grip, “Fuck, I'm gonna n – shit!”

Mo Chou closed one of her eyes when the first few streaks of cum sprayed out onto her mouth and face. She waited for Risco to finish, keeping her blades away from his trembling legs until she could get close enough to lap up the remaining seed dribbling from the tip.

“Damn, baby-girl...” Risco rasped out, “Come on, back up on me and let me get a good look at ya.”

“Hm?” Mo Chou kissed Risco's hip, the look in her eyes fleeting, teasing.

Speaking of eating... “Baby-girl, come on..!”

He needed to get a taste. Just one taste, after that blowjob he was gagging for it. But Mo Chou shook her head. She crawled into position, all four of her legs wrapped around Risco.

She rocks herself once, trying to get used to Risco's body underneath her. Then she tried it again, picking up a slow grind against Risco: trying to rub herself to completion against the panting creature in the bed.

***

A frog expanded his throat into a tight bubble, twice. He jumped into the pond, two dragonflies flitting by.

Risco was on his stomach. He placed a hand on Mo Chou's waist, whispering, “Why didn't you let me--”

“It's okay.”

“Wait, what?”

“I got there. It's okay.”

“But I wanted to... Ugh, fine...”

Mo Chou looked at Risco's little pout and giggled. “Love you.” She poked him in the cheek, Risco still pouting as he said,

“Love you too, baby-girl.”

***

“Eh? Mo Chou!” Mo Chou was stirring the last ingredient in the sedative medications for the day. She looked up to see one of her co-workers calling out for her, “Get that medicine into the bottling machine already!”

Mo Chou nodded and, with one more stir, she hefted the bowl into a complicated machine of pipes and valves that all led to a row of empty bottles waiting to be filled.

“Lunchtime already?” Mo Chou asked one of her friends, the other Mantida pulling her along to cafeteria. “I think I want to go all the way with Risco soon.” She piped up, “He's really sweet and... and I want to spend as much time with him.”

One of the other Mantida looked at Mo Chou. Then they looked to the Mantida next to her. “Wow...”

“What?” Mo Chou asked with a tilt of her head. One of her friends pulled their phone out of their bag and swiped through a few pages and handed it to Mo Chou. “Maybe you should skim through this.”

Mo Chou set aside her food so she could take the phone. “'Mantida Dating and You. So you've finally found that special lovebug. Great! Here are a few things to expect on your first night thumping thoraxes. Try not to eat anything before, so you don't let any of your special lovebug go to was--'”

Mo Chou's face fell, her antennae uncurling and falling limp.

 

“NNNOOOO!!” The shout had birds and pixies fleeing from the tree that the clinic was built into.

***

Mo Chou was sobbing, her tears falling in the engravings on her blades. “Seriously, Mo Chou?!” One of her friends asked, “You didn't know that that's how sex works?! You're a nurse, for goodness sake!”

Mo Chou shook her head, eyes still wet, “I majored in mammalian anatomy in school..!” She took the napkin that one of the other nurses offered. “What am I going to do?! I can't do that to Risco!” She wiped her eyes, “Not only that, but I'm too young to be a single mother..!”

“Well, if you want to go all the way with him, them's the breaks.” Another Mantida insisted, “I mean, yeah, I wish that someone had reminded me of that before I had sex for the first time. But I like to think that he would be glad that I've been raising the grubs up so well.”

Mo Chou was only half-listening at that point. Why was this happening? All she wanted to do was have sex with the creature she loved. She didn't want to kill him. She couldn't even imagine spanking him!

***

“Wait, WHAT?!” Risco jumped forward in his barber's chair. He had gone in to get his goatee trimmed for his date with Mo Chou that evening. Yet barbershops were always a source of passed-down wisdom.

Whether you wanted it or not.

The owner of the barbershop tossed aside the tombstone he was holding. “Boy, you didn't realize what you were getting' into? By Trillium the Fair's sun-kissed hair, you is dumb!”

“That's what you get for goin' after bug pussy.” The faun braiding hair near the front of the shop huffed.

Risco frowned: shaving cream dripping from his chin. He looked at his reflection in the wide mirrors across from his chair. He ran his fingers across his neck. He loved his baby girl, he really did.

But he also loved his head.

And his balls.

And his di – You know what, he loved being alive.

He flinched at the sharp crack of a comb against his hand. He looked to the right, shouting, “Ow?!” To the female faun tapping her hoof at him.

“Whatchu gaping at the mirror for?! Call her and dump her before you end up with less brain than you already got!”

Risco sighed and leaned his head back so his barber could finish his trim.

 

Would you believe, even then, that one of Risco's main thoughts was how to make sex with Mo Chou work? How to make his baby-girl's first time a good time worth repeating.

***

The next time Risco and Mo Chou met up was a disaster. Neither of them wanted to even get close to each other, keeping a table's distance between them. The entire experience was so awful that Mo Chou eventually decided to just go home.

Risco sat at his kitchen table: his head in his hands, a bottle of faun-strength Cristal next to him. This was a disaster. He was pulled between his rapidly deteriorating relationship and his lack of direction.

He snatched up the bottle and knocked back half of it. Risco stood to his hooves and grabbed his jacket, storming out of his apartment.

Yet, when he got out into the lukewarm air of the dawn, he slowed down. He started to the left – Stop!

No... Maybe to the right? Two steps down and he turned back.

Forward.

He needed to move forward.

Risco gasped, his trance breaking when he realized where he was. The misty mouth of the Septette Mines: the entrance leading deep into the unknown that only a certain few could navigate. He had come by here a few times when he was younger, watching the dwarves and wyverns go in with jackhammers and pick-axes, hefting up shimmering spoils to sell for the day.

Why was he here now?

He walked amongst the stalls. Boxes of creamy opal, sparkling diamond dust, and thick bars of silver and gold.

One table was laden to the gilders with bars of pinkish gold that emanated warmth and comfort. “Hey...” He walked over, “What's this stuff?”

“Heart Gold.” The old dwarf minding the table took a drag off of his pipe, “Blessed by the earth to bond two souls together. Great for wedding rings.” He exhaled a thick cloud of sweet smoke, “Not that my blasted son would know anything about marriage. Always too busy jerking it to the centauresses who mind the panning streams.”

Risco grimaced a bit. Mining Centauresses were huge. Easy on the eyes, but huge! With the lower bodies of Clydesdales, mighty muscles, and bountiful... tracks of land. It wasn't even just the idea of mounting one, which was pretty damn impossible.

Trust him.

He had tried.

If you did convince one to lay on the ground and managed to get things hot and heavy, there was the, urm, matter of size-differences in more intimate regards.

Risco leaned against the table and hefted one of the bars up, inspecting its pure quality and warmth.

A flash of Mo Chou's face entered his vision.

“Huh.” He said to himself. He turned around and saw other things being sold by the table-load.

Marine jelly.

Night Dust.

Binding sap.

Foundation clay.

And then the Heart Gold in his hands. A bond between two souls...

His lips turned up in a smirk.

He had some purchases to make.

***

Mo Chou sighed, walking into Risco's apartment. She just knew that he was going to dump her for some nice mammalian girl who could actually suck his dick or ride him into oblivion. It was just a matter of time.

Even as they had dinner, watched a movie, made out on the couch, gone to bed... She could tell that this was it.

So what she had blades instead of hands? So what if her kind were natural-born homicidal gourmands?

… She deserved love too.

“I wanna try somethin' tonight.” Risco said. He walked over to the closet to retrieve a treasure chest. It was a solid black. It wasn't even sealed by any sort of lock.

Mo Chou let Risco do whatever he was talking about. She didn't want this night to end off angry. Yet, when Risco turned around and showed her the contents of the chest.

Well.

She didn't know what to think.

Mo Chou blinked. “Is that... an onahole?”

There were two objects in the chest. One of them did, in fact, look like an onahole: a sex toy made to simulate lips and tongue or a woman's vagina.

However, this one looked much more ornate than most models. The outside was encased in a dark ceramic, folds of cured gel lining the inside, a band of gold on the outside holding the piece together. It seemed made for specific function rather than imaginary aesthetics.

“Well, I mean,” Risco rubbed the part of his neck that wasn't a sweaty mess. “Kind of? Maybe? I – okay, can you just relax and... and trust me on this? Here.” Mo Chou looked down at the armband that Risco was offering her, the second object in the chest. It was crafted with burnt black ceramic, lined with a cured layer of cool gel on the inside. The candlelight in the room flickered over the traces of precious gem dust in it, the foundation of dark Night Dust. Finally, there was the ring of rose gold encircling the entire thing.
“It's beautiful.” Mo Chou commented.

“Y-yeah.” Risco swallowed, “Go on, put it on and make yourself comfortable, baby-girl.”

The arm band was clasped over Mo Chou's upper arm and she laid back in the bed. What was the faun planning? She felt the cool gel inside grow warm. It massaged into her exoskeleton and brought on a tingling sensation and made her entire body shiver.

'He's really serious about... whatever this is.' Mo Chou thought as she looked at Risco once more. “Alright,” She willed herself to relax a little, “I'm in your hands.”

It would be nice to pretend that they could have a normal sexual relationship. In fact, if she closed her eyes she could imagine it: spreading her legs and feeling the subtle beginnings of beard-burn against her thighs. Risco's heated breath against the most sensitive part of her body. She could feel herself opening up, the plates of her outer armor sliding aside and exposing the dewy petals of her sex.

Something slick poured against her. She could feel the sensation but she didn't feel the consequence of it staining the sheets.

Risco set the bottle of lubricant he was using (the shitty human kind too, bleh).

'Come on,' He prayed in his mind, 'Don't have me makin' an ass out of myself now.'

He licked over the opening of the toy. Immediately, Mo Chou tossed her head back. Her legs scrambled against the sheets from the sensation of something licking against her cunt, fervently with heated lashes.

“Oh my God, oh my God!” Mo Chou struggled to open her eyes, to see what the hell was going on. But all Risco was doing was eating that silly toy out. Every time he went in, it was like he was trying to devour her whole.

The faun pulled away, goatee slick with saliva and lube. Do or die time.

“I'm coming in.” Risco told her as he rubbed his cockhead up against the toy's opening. He glanced over at Mo Chou, the Mantida trembling, gasping on the mattress.

She felt a slow pressure against her before she felt herself opening up for the impression of Risco easing his dick into her sopping wet heat. Mo Chou's head was overcome. She sank into lightheadedness, into a soft pink fog, a shocked cry melting into a drawn-out moan.

Risco worried at his bottom lip. He held his portion of the toy in a better position before allowing himself to sink in deeper. He was brought face to face with the knowledge that he was feeling Mo Chou's insides convulsing around him as if he were right there on top of her.

He wished he could have taken notes on this. He would just have to ask Mo Shou later. “Mmph, you're squeezing so tight...” He groaned out.

If Mo Chou could hear him, she didn't show it. She flipped onto her stomach on her own, rocking against the sheets. She was feverishly desperate, trying to get closer to the source of pleasure but not making any contact because, outside of the sensations, there wasn't any contact.

“I don't... Know what you're doing,” Mo Chou panted, tears in the corners of her eyes,

But, please... Please, keep going. Go harder. Do whatever you want, just please don't – ah~!!”

Risco cut her off, pulling away from the toy just enough so he could thrust back inside. Mo Chou feels it all, the band around her arm acting as the perfect sole conduit, the bond between both of them. It happens again, and again, a relentless assault on both of their nerves soon building.

The feelings are a bubbling miasma rolling through the room. All space outside of the room faded into nonimportance. All that really mattered worth a damn were the moans and aborted breaths of the alluring creature in his bed.

“Shit!” Risco fell on his rump, fucking up into the toy. The heat of the room and Mo Chou's made for a heady combination. He slowed down once more, rolling his hips in small circles.

“Don't tease me~!” Mo Chou dug her blades into the bed, “More! Fuck me, use me however you want!” She needed to come, she was so close.

“Never want to use you, baby-girl.” Risco whispered, “Just wanna make you feel as special as you really are.” At Mo Chou's frustrated sob, he rasped out, “Wish I could come inside you for real. I'd love to see it dripping out of you.”

Mo Chou really lost it then. She bucked back against nothing, her words becoming filthier, more frantic as she plummeted towards that sought-after zenith. “Your cock is so thick and hot, I can feel everything about it and its not even inside me!”

“Mo Chou...”

“We can do this again, right?” Mo Chou panted, saliva escaping her mouth, “We're not... even done... and I'm already thinking about doing this again!”

Risco nodded, beads of sweat dripping off of him. “Anytime you want, baby-girl. Damn, you're fucking perfect!”

“I'm still a virgin and you've already ruined me for anything or anyone else! I-I'm –!” Mo Chou's body seized up, a few drops of slick escaping her quivering sex when she came.

Risco doesn't fare much better. He comes with a strangled shout, shooting his load in thick pulses that soon seep out of the toy.

Mo Chou could feel that, too: the sensation of liquid fire triggering a second minor orgasm in her.

Risco's hips jerked into the toy, into his lover, with several more rapid, jerky thrusts of his hips.

They both stayed where they were, the aftershocks of both of their orgasms rolling through each other; prolonging the high.

Something else that Risco would have to look into.

“Baby-girl...” He whispered and crawled into the bed next to Mo Chou. “You okay?”

Mo Chou, sinking into the respite of the mattress and sheets, replied,

“... e ...ity...”

Risco quirked an eyebrow. “What was that?”

Mo Chou struggled to lift her head, eyes glossy and tongue lolling out,

“Adjust... the sensitivity~”

***

The following afternoon, because there was no way in hell they were waking up with the sunrise after a night like that, Mo Chou brought Risco's inventions to the kitchen table.

They sat across from one another, looking at them. “Did you clean the main conduit out?” Risco asked.

Mo Chou nodded. “You come a lot, so it took a good thirty minutes. That being said--” Mo Chou struck her blades against the table, “You are an incredible inventor! Last night was amazing, I never dreamed that sex would be so incredible!”

“Well, I wouldn't really call myself an inventor.” Risco chuckled, “Just a horny goat who wanted to show his baby-girl a good time.” He lifted the main conduit, sticking his fingers inside the dormant folds of gel. “A one-to-one sexual high between two souls, without physical contact. An impossible intimacy the likes of which human toys can't hope to compare.” He sighed, “Wish I had better lube to use this thing with, though. Human-grade lubricants are hot-garbage.”

Mo Chou sat back in her chair. “Lubricant... You know, there are so many herbs and saps known to nonhuman kind. So many of them could be found here in ShimmerGale.” Her eyes shined with a smile. “Risco! You should make and sell toys!”

“Selling toys?” Risco repeated. “Hm... You know, that doesn't sound too bad. Yeah!” He knocked a hoof against the floor, “We could find a cheap storefront and move in together!”

“Yes!” Mo Chou clinked her blades together, “I could mix up recipes for nonhuman-grade lubricants and help the customers while you craft more... Um...” She looked at the device on the table, “What have you decided to call it?”

Risco hummed in thought. His mind was a blur, a storm of planning, hopes, and fiscal numbers.

He snapped his fingers with a smirk.

***

The Goldenrod Bond. That's what they decided to call it, in honor of the Heart Gold that provided the main effect.

Without any haste, they used the remainder of Risco's inheritance (and Mo Chou's deposit from leaving her apartment) leasing a building in the breezy hillsides of ShimmerGale as well as buying a few more raw materials: various herbs and bases for Mo Chou to experiment with, more materials from the mines for Risco to make not only Goldenrod Bonds, but other toys as well.

All made with both humans and nonhumans in mind.

The first few weeks were the hardest. No one knew they were there or what they were doing. Mo Chou pleaded with her former coworkers to spread the word and Risco asked those at the barbershop.

Both were often met with snickers or accusations of depravity, but it all just motivated Mo Chou even more.

She had experienced the true beauty known as sexual release, she was determined to let others share in that beauty. And seeing Mo Chou fired up got Risco fired up.

Even with finances running out with how expensive it was to keep the store, to purchase materials and furniture.

***

The start of their salvation would come with a curious customer coming in to browse.

“Welcome to Eros and Mine!” Both Risco and Mo Chou greeted. “How can we help you find your pleasures?”

A woman in a mermaid gown looked around, holding her cheek in her gloved palm. “No... No, I guess you guys wouldn't be able to help either...”

She began walking away but Mo Chou bolted over and set her down in a comfy chair.

“Now you can't just leave without even letting us hear your troubles!” Risco walked over with a slice of pound cake plated with strawberries, “Come on, let us hear it.”

The woman took a bite of cake, chewing it slowly and letting the delicate texture melt on her tongue. “Okay. Well... My fiance and I have been together for three years now. He's a sweetheart and I really want to be able to have sex with him, but... I, uh...”

“Well?” Risco prompted her to keep talking.

The woman reached into her blouse and brought out a locket. Upon unlocking it, one could see a picture of the woman, covered head to toe in a HazMat suit, hugging a towering beast composed of noxious tar and toxic gasses.

“We even have to sleep in different rooms...” The woman sighed, “I tried using a Filter Badge one night when I was desperate enough to try, but...” She gently eased down one of her gloves. Her skin was paper pale and discolored from her knuckles up to her wrist.

“I just feel so bad.” She pulled her glove back up, “He's such a dear and I feel like he thinks I don't want to be around him.” The woman chuckled, pulling down her wide-brimmed hat to cover her misty eyes. “Ah, well... I didn't mean to give the two of you a sob story.”

Mo Chou shook her head, “Not a sob story. You love him so much, you want to share that love physically even with such risks!”

“And we,” Risco bumped in between the Mantida and the human, “Have something that might help.”

***

It took a bit of convincing, what with the cost of their pride and joys, but the woman left with a Goldenrod Bond and a money-back guarantee.

“Alright.” Risco whistled. “Here's hoping for the best.” His right hoof ratt-a-tat-tated against the floor.

He felt a weight against his back. “We can do this, Risco.” Mo Chou whispered, “I believe in us.”

***

Mo Chou was mixing a recipe for Full Moon lubricant. The idea was for it to be a lube that would benefit werewolves and Lycans, so she needed to get it down soon so it could cure in the powerful light of the moon.

Her body jolted in her chair when the door cracked inward.

A wide brim hat fluttered to the floor. Mo Chou blinked at the human woman in her arms. “Thank you!!” The woman from yesterday cried out, elated tears streaming down her face.

***

That woman... had friends. Friends whom she and her fiance were more than okay with sharing the new source of their joy with.

And while they didn't always sell Goldenrod Bonds (because they were expensive as all hell by the end of the day), Risco and Mo Chou were finally on their way to breaking even.

And then came the day. The gracious day where their small doors and humble storefront were graced by the Father of Fae and the Sire of Elves himself.

***

Mo Chou had been struck still and mute.

Risco couldn't bear to lift his eyes from the ground.

Bare feet, each nail lacquered a different gem-like hue, padded over the store floor. The figure disappeared behind a tall shelf of vibrators, inspecting anything he could get his fingers on. A cascade of silken black hair followed them along the floor and out the front door.

“Satiate my curiosity.” Trillium the Fair had insisted, “Given the materials, the time... The funding, how large could you make the main piece?”

Risco and Mo Chou glanced at each other. Was he here for that? The faun spoke up, “How big we talkin'? Like an orc or--”

“A dear friend of mine has a birthday close approaching.” Trillium the Fair had continued, “And I think a Goldenrod Bond would be a lovely present for him and his little bird.”

Before he could think, Risco frowned, “'Little bird'?”

Luckily, Mo Chou was still on the track of business. “Well, we would need time to mix materials, to carve and glaze, and to enchant. Not to mention purifying the gold and making sure that everything fits--”

“Come with me.” Trillium the Fair had pointed towards the doorway, opening to reveal not the outside of Risco's apartment. Instead, the three were walking down a cool cavern that cleaved deep into the slick, cool depths. Stalagmites barely dodged away from their Stalactite cousins. “This way please...”

The further they went, the more they could hear the gentle crashing of waves; the more they could smell sea salt. Trillium the Fair had used the mighty staff in his hand to part his way through a curtain of glowing shells and crystals. When it was their turn, Risco held the way open for Mo Chou.

They were seeing something more resembling living quarters now. The cool cavern walls were still there, but there was a long rug lining the spiraling path. There were several stone statues of various beasts and figures, draped in seaweed and speckled with barnacles.

The path was marked with smooth rocks. They hummed and glowed when the three walked past. Other than that, though, the caverns were mostly dark.

Mo Chou walked ahead of Risco a little, though she still held behind Trillium the Fair's gait. The scent of the sea was growing stronger, an underlying wash of male musk underneath. A low light faded into view, Risco and Mo Chou gasping when they saw its source. They looked up.

Up.

Up.

And up, seeing the slumbering form of Aquacia's Guardian and the Keeper of the Seas, Siklon.

"This is your client.” Trillium the Fair had said, a smile upon full lips, “I want the two of you to make your best Goldenrod Bond for him and his young lover.” Trillium the Fair had looked up at Siklon, all six of the beast's eyes closed. “They're woefully in need of some sexual gratification. Though, with said lover being more... your stature,” Trillium the Fair softly pointed his staff in Risco's direction, “You can imagine where the trouble comes in.”

Risco felt pressed between a mountain and a castle. Not only was this something that he couldn't possibly deny, not only for the potential exposure and boon of finances for business but for the small fact that this wasn't just a request for one guardian, it was for TWO, his brain was twisting trying to think of the mechanics involved. How much raw material they would need for a main conduit to fit what was surely a colossal classification of cock? How long would it take him to carve and build something like that?!

“I would like to remind you,” Trillium the Fair had spoken, “That Siklon's birthday celebrations are two months from now. So I need your confirmation sooner, as in now, rather than later, whether faun.”

Risco gulped, looking up at Siklon's slumbering state.

Mo Chou stepped forward, “We would need help with the construction.”

Trillium smirked. “But of course. I can arrange a shipyard for the project's completion. Yet, I would imagine that you want to get measurements and notes taken down now.”

“Will he wake up while we're workin'?” Risco asked, not feeling much like becoming fish food.

Trillium the Fair had smiled. “Not with all of the Honey Mead he drank down. The lovable oaf.” Trillium the Fair had sat down upon the cool, slick crop of shining stones by the sub-nautical cove. “I would get to work if I were the two of you.”

Risco and Mo Chou looked at each other. They shared a silent nod before Mo Chou stepped behind him, her glittering wings unfolding and fluttering. She picked Risco up in her arms before lifting into the air and flying into the great, watery advent.  

***

Risco knew that he would never be able to face the orcs and dwarves that had helped with the construction ever again. Not without memories that would make him flush with embarrassment from the sheer insanity of what they were doing.

Oh, were you thinking he would be embarrassed about overseeing the construction of a giant sympathetic onahole? Of course not, that was the easy part. The overall haste and pressure of the situation had been unbearable.

But, after a month of feverish building, it was done. When the great blue structure, and the normal-sized armband, were completed, Trillium the Fair had insisted that Risco and Mo Chou accompanied him to see Siklon's reaction to his perfect gift.

Of course, he told them to stay near the outside of Siklon's cavern since the aquatic guardian would be awake this time.

The two of them listened in, hearing the baying ship horn bring in the massive Goldenrod Bond.

Silence.

…

Still silence, save for the splashing waves of Siklon's cove and the drip of dew from the cavern rood.

“TRILLIUM... WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?”

“A present, of course.”

“I SUPPOSE I WALKED RIGHT INTO THAT – I MEANT WHAT IS THE PRESENT, TRILLIUM?”

“Just a little present for you and your Little Bird. To help you two better enjoy each other's company.”

“I DON'T NEED YOU INTERFERING WITH MY LOVE OR SEX LIFE, TRILLIUM.”

“Just try it, would you? Think about it, when was the last time you had a good fuck? You could do with the stress relief.”

“WHERE DID YOU EVEN FIND THIS THING?”

“I know a couple. Also, this cost me a fair Costage, Siklon. You had better well use it at least once.”

The cavern quaked, caused by Siklon's frustrated growl. Mo Chou held onto Risco, gripping him tight.

“FINE.” The cavern filled with a rush of humid air as Siklon's gills exhaled.

Risco all but passed out in Mo Shou's arms. “Lord, I am too pretty to be put through this much stress!”

***

It wasn't even a week before the screaming harpy-bitch known as stress and anxiety came rearing her ugly head.

“Damn, damn, damn!” Risco tugged his ascot out of its tie and wiped the deluge of sweat from his brow. “Why did I take the job?!” He complained to the skies, Mo Chou following him to the waterfalls which marked the limits of ShimmerGale, Aquacia just a jump away. “Damn it, Mo Chou, you should go back home! If Siklon decides to eat me, I want you to be safe at least!”

Mo Chou shook her head. “I'm not leaving your side that easily.”

Risco turned his head to face the roaring falls. “Damn it, Mo Chou... Why are you so damn perfect?”

The body of water at the base of the falls exploded, pure water flooding down from the air. Siklon's head rose up from the churning waves, all six of his eyes focused on the two creatures trembling in front of his might.

“ARE THE TWO OF YOU...” He growled, “THE ONES WHO MADE THE GIFT TRILLIUM THE FAIR GAVE TO ME?”

Risco placed himself in front of Mo Chou before he nodded. The weight of Siklon's gaze was pressing down upon them. But Risco refused to look away. Risco refused to move. Risco was knocked off of his hooves when the earth next to him and Mo Chou shook. They slowly turned to the left, seeing the rotting remains of a grand pirate ship: the hull cracked open, gold coins and rare emeralds, rubies, and sapphires spilling out onto the ground.

Risco and Mo Chou couldn't move. Their hearts slammed against their chests, and they could barely breathe, let alone realize that Siklon had just given them enough money to save their business six times over.

“NOW, IF YOU'LL EXCUSE ME,” Siklon grinned with all of his teeth, “I NEED TO MAKE UP FOR LOST TIME WITH MY LITTLE BIRD...” Siklon sank back underneath the waves and, soon, the area was practically back to normal aside from the two creatures trying to come to terms with their shock.

Risco looked around, from the ship to the falls to the skies.

He then looked down at his crotch. “Don't ask me when and don't ask me how, but is it bad that I'm sportin' a semi right now?”

***

Risco pulled the van into the garage, his memories fading into the present day. He decided that he could get the raw materials in at his leisure, but after the delay of that fucking Mammoth-dragon, he figured that Mo Chou would be starving.

“Hey! Baby-girl,” He announced, walking in with boxes of food, “I... I...” He didn't know why but he just wanted to take a good look at Eros and Mine. He still couldn't wrap his mind around it, how meeting the love of his life had worked out so well. He had a business that was thriving, a reputation that was glowing...

“Oh, you're back!” Mo Chou walked out from behind the counter. When she was close enough she nuzzled her head against Risco's cheek. “Mm, that smells really good. Are you ready to eat?”

A soft smile graced Risco's lips at sight of the beautiful creature next to him.

“Yeah.” He nodded, carrying the food to the counter, “I'm starving.”

 

 

“Yeah?” Risco chuckled, bumping his hip into her side. “You like that? The name's Risco, what can I call you besides 'baby-girl'?”

Mo Chou thought for a second. She then decided that she wanted to see where this was all going to go. “Mo Chou.”

 

“Mo Chou, huh?” Risco smirked, “Well, I fo' sho want some more Mo Chou.”

19: A Tributary Interlude

 In the eyes of one Captain Izumi Oshiro, the guardian of Aquacia was one of the most breath-taking creatures in all of Dama Fristad.

So... what if Izumi, even upon the tips of his talons, couldn't reach the height of Siklon's smallest claw?

So what if his years on this earth were no more than a flicker compared to the eons that Siklon had been watching over the seas? So what if the idea of the two sharing anything resembling intimacy was inconceivable?

Well, that last point was less a factor when you were determined enough. And also had enough money or patience.

Izumi watched the great guardian fit a new archway near the center of the district.

“LET'S SEE...” Siklon hummed to himself while checking the measurements of the new piece he had carved last night. “SHIT... I'M GOING TO HAVE TO CARVE NEW COLUMNS, THE DESIGNS DON'T MATCH.” Siklon set the piece in its proper place and took a mental note of what he needed to carve out later that night. “ALRIGHT.” Siklon turned to Izumi and grinned that monstrous grin. “I STILL OWE YOU A PROPER DATE.”

“Siklon, no.” Izumi flew over to land on Siklon's nose, “It isn't as though you were expecting a Hunter strike yesterday. And it was just dinner.”

Siklon frowned and rested his scaly elbow on a nearby road. “NEVER DISMISS THE POWER OF A GOOD MEAL, LITTLE BIRD.”

Izumi's face burned and he turned his face away. “Please don't call me that in public.” He did lower his hand to scratch at the edge of the nearest scale.

Siklon's rumbling purr, for what else could the noise have been, erupted from the beast's chest and flooded into the waters.

“HEY...” Siklon's six eyes looked to his tiny lover, “WHEN DO YOU HAVE TO GO TO THE STATION?”

Siklon, I'm not going to your place when I have work.” Izumi didn't need to think for too long about what the guardian was hinting at. “You can wait until I have off next.”

“THAT'S A WEEK FROM NOW! DAMN THESE FUCKING HUMANS AND THEIR DAMNED HUNTERS!” Siklon growled, waves forming around him.

Izumi didn't budge. “You'll just have to wait. Trust me,” Izumi stood and spread his wings to take flight once more, “I was looking forward to it.”

And he honestly was. Izumi Oshiro was the cream of the elite crop of both DFPD as well as the karasu-tengu living in the city. The lifts of his wings were always up; the muscles in his legs were always tense.

Being with Siklon, a being able to dwarf his entire existence ten-thousand times over and still be a vast mystery onto the universe... Being surrounded by mammoth scales with edges sharp enough to tear through submarines...

Being enclosed by deadly claws that rose up as ancient trees...

Izumi could let himself fall. He could allow himself to rely on something else, someone else.

He didn't have to be a police captain. He didn't have to be a perfect son. He didn't have to be a big brother.

He flapped his wings and flew down to the sharp interlocking points of Siklon's fangs. He leaned his head forward, his beak giving the softest peck to the gigantic fang in front of him.

“I love you.”

Siklon, for as angry as he was, immediately melted. “OH, LITTLE BIRD...” He raised his hand and scratched Izumi's head with the tip of his claw. It took all of Izumi's strength to keep himself airborne. But he couldn't stop the gossamer coo that bubbled up from his throat. “MY PERFECT LITTLE BIRD.”

20: Chapter 20

 Thick biceps bulged and flexed as orcs, some clad in leotards, others only in tight shorts, lifted weights as thick as tree trunks.

Kirins, banshees, and Furies all jogged down their measured routes on dwarf-built treadmills.

There were numerous gyms in Dama Fristad. Most of them served both human and nonhuman clientele. However the need for equipment and atmosphere made for honing the cream of the crop called for some locations to kick humans out of the equation.

One such nonhuman-only gym was where Odysseus was training one of his newest clients.

“Come on!!” The minotaur bellowed down at the young siren/harpy mix straining on the leg lift machine, “Stop wasting my time if you're just going to pussy out!!”

“'Wasting time'?!” The siren/harpy mix groaned. The muscles in her legs jumped and flexed in a desperate attempt to keep the half-ton plates at bay. “I'm trying my hardest, you asshole!!”

Odysseus waggled his fingers and mocked her, “'I'm trying my hardest, weh, weh~'! Your hardest is shit!!”

“That's... IT!!” The harpy/siren mix kicked away the plates. She flapped her wings, keeping her body at eye-level with her, let's be frank, beyond shitty personal trainer. “What the hell is your damage, you roided-out moron?! How the hell are you supposed to be getting me ready for my marathon if you can't even get your head out of your ass?! You have to be the biggest dick this side of the men's sauna, you --” She seized Odysseus's chin with her claws and forced his head up. “Stop looking at my tits. You don't even take my strengths and weaknesses into account! I'm supposed to be doing a marathon, why aren't we doing cardi – Stop looking at my tits!”

Odysseus gave an angry snort as his chin was forced up once more.

“I never should have hired you. Mom said she had the number to a guy but, no~! I had to go with my gut and – Damn it!” She forced the minotaur's chin up, keeping her claws put. “Stop looking at my fucking tits!” She hissed. Honestly, some fucking people man.

“Hey,” Odysseus continued on, ignoring the fury on the harpy-siren mix's features and keeping his eyes on her chest, “You wanna fuck?”

The harpy-siren mix gawked at Odysseus. She looked down to his hooves, up to the prominent bulge in his shorts.

“You fucking pig,” She glared at him, “I oughta--”

***

Odysseus slowly roused from slumber the following afternoon.

The first thing he wanted to reach for was his phone. He wasn't training anyone today and he needed everyone who was blowing up his messenger to get that.

His hand ghosted over soft feathers. Warmth fluttered underneath them in a slow beat.

“The fuck?” The minotaur sat up, pulling away sheets to reveal his client.

She was quick to respond to the sudden air on her feathers. “Mm, hey.” The harpy-siren mix grinned up at Odysseus, “Last night was pretty kickass.”

“Man...” Odysseus dug a finger into one of his nostrils, “Why are you still here?”

“Tch,” The harpy-siren mix sat up, Odysseus getting another good look at her breasts, “You're cute. So, what are your plans for the rest of--”

***

“Out ya go, bitch!” Odysseus kicked open the front door, boxers hastily pulled up, and tossed the harpy-siren mix out. He slammed the door behind himself, scratching his butt and going back to his room.

Not even a second later, Odysseus walked out of his room; dressed in stale clothes from the day before.

He walked to the kitchen, shoving past Zach and Nephubos to get the things he needed for a smoothie: a carton of eggs, Adonis Milk brand protein powder ('It May Not Turn You Into a God, But It'll Make You Feel Like One! … Maybe.'), vitamins, two Honeycomb Bananas (the perfect combination of gooey and sweet, tended to by a princess's hands), and three pounds of tender Sweet Grass from ShimmerGale. Into the blender it all went, a generous amount splashing onto the counter before he thought to cover it.

Odysseus's ears flicked, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he yawned.

The clogging assortment of ingredients choked the blender: the poor machine wishing it had written its final will and testament. Odysseus soon got bored with the machine's struggle. Luckily, he pulled out a pair of weights from beneath the kitchen table. He walked over to Zach and Nephubos, a fifty-pound weight in each hand. “What are you two fags doing? Being gay?”

Zach glanced over at Odysseus. His eyes took a downward elevator towards the minotaur's boxers. The elevator shot back up. “You really have no reason to overcompensate, but okay.” He set a pitcher of iced tea on the table. “So, between the cake that Silas made, the Chicken Tandoori from Suraj, and my iced tea, you should be all set food-wise.”

'Yes, yes!' Nephubos clapped two of their tentacles together. 'We have many thanks for you, Zachary! This is our first time preparing for the ritual known as, um...' The tentacle-bleb reached into themselves to pull out the sparkly pink notebook that they had taken a liking to. Flipping to the needed page, they read out, 'Ss... Mm. Stuuu-dy Date?'

“'Study Date'.” Zach gave Nephubos a pat on the head, “You're getting better at your reading.”

All three of Nephubos's eyes lit up. They looked down at their notebook again, Zach taking the chance to wipe his slimy hand on his hip.

'Are you really thinking so?' Nephubos gave a nod. 'Yes. Yes, we will be sure to try harder!'

Odysseus had more or less checked out once Zach had said 'study date'. “Gruh...” He walked over to the main room, smoothie in one hand, both weights in the other. “This place is going to be full of dumpy, nerdy co-eds. Why can't any of you bring nice pieces of tail home?”

Mira was flipping through channels on the TV. The eye on the inside of his chest rolled, tongue curling up. “Shut up.” Mira pouted, “I'm trying to find something good with our shitty cable package.”

It really wasn't shitty at all, having quite a few hundred channels, both human-centric and nonhuman-centric. Mira just wanted to bitch and pout.

The creamy consistency of his shake belied the bitter notes underneath, the ensemble soaking Odysseus's tongue.

“Hey.” He swallowed, watching Zach head for the door. “Fuck are you going?”

“I have to pick up a new table for the balcony.” He jabbed a thumb towards the sliding glass doors. Outside one could see the splintered remains of the table: the majority of said splinters having gone with the backside of the dragon that crushed them. “Thank God for Ass-Insurance, I guess.”

“Hello!” A bipedal dragon walked onto the TV screen, a wraith on the other side. “You know, life is just full of those awful, awful unexpected occurrences.”

“And it's far better to be prepared for the worst rather than left high and dry.”

Both dragon and wraith bowed, jumped up, and pointed to the posters behind them. “Call now to get a quote on our special brand of A.S.S. Insurance!” The dragon said.

“'Accidental Subjugation or Shattering' Insurance.” The wraith explained, “We guarantee prompt and succinct coverage for any unexpected disasters or destruction of property.”

Both dragon and wraith stayed quiet for a moment. They looked to one another. “Even if a dragon falls from flight and crashes their fat ass into your patio furniture.” The dragon said, the wraith reassuring,

“Especially if a dragon falls from flight and crashes their fat ass into your patio furniture.”

Mira changed the channel. “Fuck, this is so boring! I can't even go raiding because all my guild-members are busy until sundown!”

Odysseus grinned, “We could always fuck with whoever the slime-ball is having over.”

Mira perked up instantly. “Hey, I like how you think. We--”

THOOM!

The coffee table nearly cracked with the weight of the pink box Zach slammed down. “You.” He pointed to Mira, face impassive as the norm. “This is yours if you leave Nephubos alone.”

Mira folded his arms, the tongue of his chest poking the box open. The dark, decadent chocolate... The slight crisp of caramel that would yield to the smooth satin of flan...

“Chocoflan?!” Mira seized the box, his eyes bright as a giddy giggle left him. He broke it, though, to tell Odysseus, “Yeah, you're on your own.”

“Son of a bitch!” Odysseus just missed the chance to strangle the mimic, Mira taking the Chocoflan and locking himself up in his chest.

“And you.” Odysseus choked when Zach pulled him down to his eye-level. “Please don't fuck this up for Nephubos with your awful overcompensation.”

Odysseus exhaled roughly, his breath tussling Zach's hair. Zach let him go, grabbing his wallet and leaving the condo.

Odysseus walked back to the kitchen, tossing his cup into the sink. He just didn't want to be fucking bothered today, was that so much to ask?

Nephubos, meanwhile, nudged the cake to the side a few millimeters. “Visitor!” The doorfairies chimed from outside. Nephubos clapped their tentacles and slithered to the door.

'Oh, this is is so exciting!' Nephubos eased the door open, 'You all made it here in one safe piece. We are so glad!'

Odysseus leaned over the counter, rapping fingertips against the marble surface of the counter. Zeus's lightning, this was going to suck! He rolled his eyes and nearly fell from his seat when the motion gave him the window to see the co-eds walking in through the door.

“Hi Nephubos!” One of the girls said.

“Thanks for inviting us over.” Said another.

“Wow, this place is really nice.” Said the third.

Nephubos's guests... Holy crap, they were actually kind of cute. One would think that the 'hot, young co-ed' cliché was just that. But these girls... Odysseus could actually entertain the option of getting it up for these girls.

Nephubos had led their three classmates to the main couch. 'Oh.' They looked around, 'We seem to have forgotten our textbooks. Please to be waiting the moment!'

Nephubos crawled away, his door opening with that unworldly din of shrieks flooding the air.

The door slammed, the three girls talking amongst themselves: the package one of them was carrying being the stem of conversation. The girl holding it gave a nod, “I think they're really gonna li--”

“Hey.” Odysseus walked over. He had rolled up his sleeves so his arm muscles would get the best venue when he flexed. “See you girls have a package there.” He tossed a smoldering smirk in their collective direction, “I've got a nice package too. You wanna check it out?”

The three girls looked Odysseus up. Then down. Up one more time. “Eugh.” They all grimaced.

Wait.

What.

The.

FUCK?! These bitches did not just 'eugh' at him! Odysseus, Dama Fristad's best nonhuman personal trainer, did not get 'eugh'ed at!

'We have returned!' Nephubos announced with a stack of books almost squishing them into the floor as he walked. 'Perhaps we should have brought the wagon.'

“Oh!” The three girls rushed to Nephubos's aid: one of them getting the books away while the other two helped the tentacle-bleb onto the couch. “You poor thing~!”

“You could have gotten yourself hurt~!”

“Oh, you poor squishy cutie~! One of the girls cooed, rubbing her cheek against Nephubos without a single wince.

'Ah!' Nephubos was filled with joy, making them let out a diabetes-inducing squeal. It made their classmates coo more; getting even closer.

Odysseus's eyes could barely linger upon the scene without feeling his throat begin to lurch.

***

Nephubos was scribbling in his notebook, his classmates either doing the same, typing on a laptop, or highlighting passages in one of the textbooks.

Odysseus peeked out from behind a hall corner. Okay, so: operation 'Get Some – College Edition' was off to a shaky start. “I'm not about to let this ball of snot show me up.” He ground his teeth, looking every bit the role of the cud-chewing cow.

Nephubos lifted their sparkly pen to ask the trio, 'We really appreciate Professor Kmuohupsau's teachings. She is very knowledgeable.' Nephubos held a tentacle to the space that would have been a cheek on a person. 'We wonder how long they have resided upon this planet.'

They went back to studying. The girl with the package in her lap turned to their bright-eyed host. “Hey, Nephubos?”

'Yes?' Nephubos looked over, 'Were you in need of--'

“Think fast!” Odysseus jumped onto the couch, shooting Nephubos to the ceiling in a trilling panic. He laid himself out: arms behind his head, ripped pecs and arms showed off for the three human girls.

“Hey.” Odysseus clicked his tongue at the trio, “S'up. See anything you like?” He chuckled to himself, “Yeah, I know it. Ever been with someone who can dead-lift three buses and a tank?” He sat up, closing his eyes, “My gains are pretty fucking sol--”

“Don't worry!”

“We got you!”

“Come on down whenever you're ready!”

The trio had positioned themselves in a circle beneath Nephubos. Their words were gentle coos; they were sympathetic doves extending their wings for a safe rescue. Odysseus snorted out a puff of steam, glaring at the scene.

***

Three hours of cramming meant it was time to take a lunch break. “Mm, it smells so good!” One of the girls dug right into the Chicken Tandoori.

“Thank you.” Suraj said, the rakshasa doing yoga on the patio: carefully avoiding the ruined patio furniture.

Odysseus rapped his knuckles against the dining table. He shoveled the spicy chicken into his mouth, seething at the sight in front of him. His hoof was beginning to make marks in the floor.

“Hey, I brought something good for dessert.” One of the trio said. She reached into the package quick and shut it as soon as she got it out. It was a peach. Perfectly round, a gorgeous pink flush making up the flesh; parted only by a lone fresh leaf.

“My grandparents in Japan sent this over as a good luck gift. But I wanted to share it with you guys. Here Nephubos,” She handed it to the tentacle-bleb, “You can have the first bite.”

Nephubos's gasp floated into the room. Was this planet full of unceasing wonders? They had never seen something so pink, so round, so... Fuzzy!

They took the peach and stared for a long moment.

The package gave a small jerk, the girl holding it pressing her hands on top. It calmed down.

Nephubos set the peach upon their head. They waited for it to stop trying to roll off. When it stayed balanced, the tentacle-bleb was so overjoyed that they gave another squeal.

The trio of girls clutched at their chest, throat, and hands. “They're too cute~!” They all sighed.

Odysseus punched a fist into the table. “He's a ball of slime!” He spat his words out with half-chewed Jasmine rice, “This shit's ironic, right?! Like... like hipsters who drink crappy beers and insist they're hot shit, right?!”

The minotaur was ignored as the trio of girls took pictures of Nephubos: gushing all the while.

Mira's chest decided to open up at that moment, though the mimic looked a bit worse for wear. The signs of a sugar-hangover, bleary eyes, slurring words, were apparent. “Bleh...” He held back a belch, “Too much Chocoflan. Which,” He reached his tongue for the remote, “Is to say: 'not enough'.” He turned on the TV, a breaking news report flashing forth. Something along the lines of an missing infant. The poor thing had been snatched right from their crib the previous night.

Abelard walked into the kitchen, straight from the door when he got home from the station. “Don't waste food.” The European Wendigo forced Odysseus to shut his gaping mouth before getting some food for himself.

***

Traffic was slowing down in Centerpointe. “Well...” One of the trio sighed, “I guess we should get going before the gargoyles and Spring-Heeleds start filling up the evening train.” “Aw...” Two of the girls whined along with Nephubos. It was too soon for the fun to end yet.

'But...' Nephubos's eyes shifted to the floor. 'We will be seeing you three in class tomorrow, yes?'

“Of course!” The three girls shouted in unison.

“We wouldn't miss it for the world.”

“Even if I was sick with pneumonia I would risk my lungs filling with blood to see you.”

Abelard looked up from the book he was reading in the kitchen. Wait, what had she just said –

The trio of girls gathered their things. Each of them gave Nephubos a long, sticky hug before they went to the door.

Odysseus was already there. He wasn't blocking the door but he was wrapping an arm around the top doorjamb. “Ladies.” He gave them a couple of finger-guns and another smirk.

They all ignored him and walked out the door; nary giving a second thought.

Nephubos crawled over to their room, a bit sad but thankful. 'We would call that ritual a resounding success! And we can take notes on what we have learned!' They slipped inside of their room with a howling screech leaving the doors.

Everyone was going about their business. Save for Odysseus. The minotaur's eyes twitched, his hoof clawed against the floor, he grit his teeth.

The damn shattered.

“FFFUUUUUCKK!!” Odysseus bellowed, tugging at his hair and seeing red, “I don't GET IT! How's that fucking jizz-stain getting more attention than me?! For Zeus's sake!” He stomped to the ground, veins pulsing in his arms and neck, “THEY DON'T EVEN HAVE A DICK!!”

'DICK!'

'Dick!'

'Dick...'

The last bit of Odysseus's outburst knocked against the nooks and crannies of the condo and even outside to the doorfairies; the mother of the small family covering her youngest child's ears.

Odysseus stood in the center of the main room: panting and still trembling in quiet rage.

“Some girls are just way more into tentacles!” Gahiji bounced by, having just come in from who knows where. “I'm starving... Ooh! Is that Chicken Tandoori?”

The door opened with a brief announcement from the doorfairies.

“Stop yelling. You'll wake the neighbors.” Zach said as he rolled the new table into the condo.

***

When the trio got back to their dormitory after a good chunk of a train ride, they didn't go straight to their shared dorm-room.

“Well, that could have gone better.” One of them said.

“Seriously,” Another added, “What the hell was with that asshole buzzing around?”

The three walked to the basement of the dorm. The one with the package handed it off so she could lock the door behind them. “At least we got to spend some time with Nephubos. I just wish we hadn't gone through all that trouble.”

They all sighed. One of them went to light a few candles. Another fell to her knees on the floor. She retrieved a piece of glowing chalk that had been tossed aside on the ground.

Her hands scratched at the ground with the chalk in wide, scrawling letters.

No.

Symbols.

Symbols that were incomprehensible by most men. But they had taken in the scribe, the manners, when Nephubos had first showed them how to spell their name in his natural tongues.

“Look at the brighter side! They took the peach!” One of the trio said, retrieving a charcoal sketch of the tentacle-bleb from her bag. “That has to stand for something!”

“But...” The girl holding the package reached into it. She pulled out, by its leg, with no ceremony, an infant who was starting to snuffle: the chloroform starting to wear off. “What do we do with this?”

The girl with the picture set it in front of the room. She turned back and grabbed the baby, giving a little shrug.

A roach peeked out of its hiding spot. One look at the scene had it scuttling back in.

“We can still sacrifice it.” A grin, easily pulled to manic tightness, grew upon her lips.

The other two were feverish in their agreements. “Yeah! I don't know why I didn't think of that, duh!”

“We can do it in their name! Ooh-ooh!” She clapped her hands together, “We can pen down a prayer tonight!”

They set the whimpering infant in the almost-center of their frantic scribblings. One of them reached into her backpack and pulled out a knife: curved blade, ebony handle. “'See this gift'-- Wait.” The girl with the knife folded her arms, “Get into position!”

“Oh,” One of the other girls giggled, “Right. Silly me!”

The three girls formed a triangle around the glowing chalk lines and the wriggling babe inside of the swirling chaos. “Alright, let's try this again.”

The girl with the knife raised it, the blade climbing higher and higher with her improvised words. “'See this gift! And, with it, accept us as your blessed ones amongst all others!'”

“Ooh~!” One of them bounced on the balls of her feet. “This is so exciting~!” The other girl shushed her.

“'We', um... 'Ask that you use this sacrifice to bless us!'” The girl with the knife said, blade up to its highest point. She grinned, a laugh in her voice, “'Nephubos! Accept our offering!'”

She plunged the knife down, blood spraying onto her hands. The infant, helpless in all other ways, squalled out in abrupt pain.

The knife was forced down. Again.

Again.

Again!

Blood splashed over her hands, droplets of sanguine life catching upon her face, her hair.

Some stray drops got to the other girls, but it wasn't the full brunt of the signal of this wretched act.

The basement soon went quiet. The candles fluttered with the exhausted breaths.

The trio looked to the ground, to the blood sinking into the chalk beneath their feet.

They all exhaled: weight and tension leaving their bones.

“... Oh, shoot!” One of the girls jumped up, wiping her cheek and smearing blood across it in the process. “I should have written that down! Gah!” She ran to her bag to find a notebook. “Hopefully I can remember!”

As their friend struggled to jot down what she could, the other two girls looked over their little alter.

“Do you think they'll like it?”

The girl with the knife smiled. A bit of blood rolled down to stain her teeth. “Well, duh!” She smiled before leaning down to pick up the bloody bits of unformed muscle and fat. “Of course they'll like it. They'll love it! After all...”

She set the remains in a ceramic bowl. Pat-pat-patting around her pockets gave her a lighter. She rubbed her thumb over the spark-wheel, producing a new flame. She tossed it in. The pitiful flames slowly caught upon the rim of the bowl. Flecks of blue and orange reached up to the air, the girl with the knife turning around: her visage in shadows but her smile shining white.

 

“... Every new god needs their acolytes.”

***

Nephubos was bouncing upon their tentacles, waiting for Abelard to introduce them to the wonder of 'midnight ice cream'.

Their entire form jiggled as a shiver ran through them.

“Are you alright young one?” Abelard stopped scooping out Schokoladenkaramel for a second. “I hope you're not becoming feverish. Although...” He rubbed his free hand over his beard, “Can your kind succumb to fevers?”

Nephubos looked around. Their three eyes blinked but they couldn't even think to ask what a 'fever' was?

Was it this feeling that bubbled up deep inside their form? This sensation that splintered out into their reaches like lancing poison?

21: Do Elves Dream of Sweet-Smelling Sheep?

The ShimmerGale Open Market was a whirlwind of commerce, as per the usual.

“Winterberries!” A triad of pixies called out, “Harvested fresh from the Frageel Ridge in Aquacia!”

Dwarves mounted up into trucks, driving down the roads towards the Septette Mines to get their quotas done for the week.

A gentle wash of water droplets fell over several rows of potted flowers; petals the shade of blood and stems of deep amethyst. “Bring your beloved to your beck and call with my alluring Mesme Blooms.” The mermaid minding the booth showed off her wares, ignored by the passersby. She gave a pout. “Hey!” A splash of her tail sent some water splashing from the basin she was in onto her assistant. “Push me closer to the road! No one can see me from behind the table!”

A human girl, soaked to the bone, trudged over. “This is so not worth the internship credit.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” The girl sighed, pushing the basin.

***

A large hand surged into a tub of water, pulling back with a carp lashing this way and that in a desperate attempt to escape. “Boy! Keep'er steady...” A Sasquatch told his son and employees as they brought it onto a large polished stump serving as a counter, a display...

A heavy machete was hefted up.

… A cutting board.

The younger Sasquatch gave the carp a mighty crack with the machete, most of the fish's brilliant scales falling to the stump in a vibrant shower.

The human employees were quick to sweep the scales away, knowing that they would sell well in other districts.

The carp, still flinching and jerking, was slapped onto the stump. The main Sasquatch seized the machete from his son and

WHACK!

WHACK!

WHACK!

The carp was sliced into several pieces. “Get 'em out there, boy.”

The fish was carried out to a crowd of humans and nonhumans who owned upstart food-trucks and booths in ShimmerGale, all having waited since morning to buy fish. Not everyone could afford direct shipping from Aquacia; nor the time it would take to fish some up locally.

Pixies zipped across the Open-Market, one of them gushing over something on the mirror-like object in their hand. “Did you guys hear the latest single from Rubi De la D?”

“By Trillium the Fair's Sun-kissed Hair,” Another pixie chirped, “That shit is fire!”

Flowers, herbs, and berries were hocked, bartered and traded; the flow steady like a coursing river.

***

Each hoof had its own platinum shoe covering it. He was far too proud of his Ovin wards to expose them to the elements.

It meant he would be doing less work later on as well. Best of both worlds.

He relaxed on top of his mount. One could almost fall asleep with how even, how gentle her hoof-beats were. The sunlight danced over his body in warm caresses and flicks. Along the curls of his hair, especially, the sunlight swirled and entwined itself into the dark.

Everywhere he went he received calls of praise, minute lyrics of adoration. As was the norm for ShimmerGale's guardian, Trillium the Fair.

“Lord Trillium the Fair!” The owner of a baking shop addressed the guardian. “The skies are shining that much brighter with you here!”

“But of course they would, Fah Beast. Here.” He gave his mount a gentle tap on one of her horns that curved upwards like winter's holly.

She let out a low bleat and stamped a hoof to the ground: the saddlebag on her right opening up.

“Ah!” The baker inhaled the sweet smell that wafted under his snout. It was enough that Trillium the Fair's mount brought the scent of frothy, sweet cream and silken sweet petals. But the bounty they found in that saddlebag bore a smell that remained ever sweeter.

“Cheese made from the milk of Trillium the Fair's Fae-Ewes!” The baker still couldn't believe their blessing. Even the most uninitiated in Dama Fristad knew that Trillium the Fair never parted with anything relating to his prized Fae-Ewes: the glorious creatures with silken wool that smelled of sweet milk and fresh herbs or fruit. The gentle creatures with docile countenances and focused eyes.

In fact, the only place that got regular deliveries of the cheese that was soft to the touch like spring moss was the Keebalah Culinary Institute.

Trillium the Fair let the baker get what he needed before having his mount close the bag. “Come along.” Trillium the Fair gave his mount a soft kick in the side, the Fae-Ewe bleating and starting down the practiced route back to the glade of Trillium the Fair.

“It will be bathing and grooming for all of you in the stables.” Trillium the Fair told his mount. “You'll enjoy that, won't you Fah One?”

The Fae-Ewe bleated up at her master before continuing down the forest path. The wind blew through, leaves of verdant variations and shapes shaking loose and fluttering down around mount and rider.

Trillium laid back. He rested his staff in his hands, eyes falling shut.

This time of year was so

 

Beautiful.

***

SouCalifornia had, more or less, done... fairly with the changing of times. It all depended on who you knew or where you lived. Though water was always an issue, growing into more of one as the years went on.

Maybe you lived near the coast, where it was easy to make a living off of the land and sea. You just had to have a dedicated filter and a sturdy blockade for your home for the storms.

If you lived further inland, though. Then your safest bet would be to hook up with someone whose family had a farm of some sort. Easy water-access, produce, employment.

“GRRAAAHHH!!”

A plate shattered against faded wallpaper, only missing its true target by a few inches and a quick dodge.

“Got-dang, Sarah-Lynn!” The shout came from a young man in stained overalls and old boots. “How are we gonna get more dishes if ya break 'em all?”

A young woman with a pronounced baby-bump merely scoffed. She tapped her bare foot against the dusty floor, shooting a glare at the young man. “Not like we have any use for 'em! We ain't had a decent meal in months! Because you suck at providin' – I should never have hooked up with you!”

The young man's name was Carter and he let out a low exhale, turning around to rummage through the dilapidated kitchen to try and find something edible.

They had some aged fruit, some potatoes, but not much in the way of meat.

“We got quinoa.” Carter said, “Tomatoes, carrots... I could make a salad.”

“Uggghhh!” Sarah-Lynn dumped herself into a creaky chair. “Would it be too much to ask for a steak? A burger? Somethin'?!”

Carter couldn't believe they were going to go through this again. But...

“Sarah-Lynn, we got money to keep the water going or to hunt down a meat convoy. We can't have both!”

Sarah Lynn rubbed her hand against her stomach. She pouted, chin on her hand and eyes boring into the cracked window. How had those window panes looked before? Did the family who lived here before take pride in them? A housewife dusting the sill and mending the curtains; children peeking out to see their father arriving home from work. Would that have been the night that they would have gotten the news? That their home was no longer safe?

That they would have to abandon everything that had been built up? Just to have a glimmer of survival?

Sarah-Lynn looked away from the window. She gave a sardonic little smile in Carter's direction.

“I was talkin' to one of the old ladies from down the street. She was tellin' me that there's still a place you can get meat for really cheap.”

Carter's eyebrows shot to the top of his head. “What?! Well, dang it, why didn't you say so earlier?”

Sarah-Lynn crooked a finger to herself, watching Carter come closer. “Mm-hm. For free, even. Wanna hear?”

Of course Carter wanted to hear! It had been ages since he had a good raw steak! They could put it on the grill, bake some potatoes, make some gravy--

Sarah-Lynn seized him by the throat, pulling him down and hissing at him. “You are gonna go into Dama Fristad and get me a Fae-Ewe.”

***

He felt like an ocean's worth of pressure was crushing him from all sides. “Shit, shit..!” Carter whispered to himself as he tried to find... It.

 

“You're gonna have to go to ShimmerGale.” Sarah-Lynn had told him, “It's the district with all the high-falutin' trees and whatnot. Go in there, don't draw attention to yerself, and find the glade of their prissy-pants elf-leader Trillium.”

 

Carter glanced behind himself. He repeated the frantic gesture every few steps he took, keeping his footfalls as gentle against the damp cement as possible. All he had on him was a simple backpack. If shit went south, he was fucked.

The gates in front of him reached far into the clouds, far beyond what he could see. He was careful as he walked by fields of earth long-scorched by some ancient flame. If they weren't enough, there was the massive series of clear, circular rivers that had been gouged into the earth. He had often heard about how, even if you had a boat, it was hard to cross these moat-like structures if you didn't have permission.

Whatever 'permission' entailed.

Same with the gates. Carter wasn't one to put too much weight in the magical, mystical hoo-hah that surrounded this city. But he knew all about how some people who made the mistake of touching the gates and ended up greasy lumps of charred flesh upon the ground.

Which is why Carter was trying to find... It.

He didn't know who made it. He had never had a reason to try and find it before, but there was a way inside that those in Dama Fristad had yet to pin down the location of.

Carter looked around once more and, thank his luck stars, he saw it.

Marked by a rough engraving of a rose and hammer, Carter saw the break in the gate that led into a fall of darkness the size of a full-grown man. It rushed like water in his ears, and expelled any light that tried to come in.

Carter glanced back once more.

No going back now.

He jumped into the falls –

***

– Falling into a small alley between two tree-hewn shops.

He fell to the grassy ground, coughing from the shock of fast travel and impact. Carter slowly lifted his head, whistling as he drank in his surroundings. “Well, slather me a jam and call me a biscuit...” How many years had it been since he had seen such pure, vibrant signs of life as he saw in ShimmerGale? Those pathetic, withered roots at home had nothing on the soft mosses, thick swaying branches, and fragrant blooms here.

“Okay Carter.” He dusted himself off and gave a simple nod to himself. “Time to go find us a sheep.” It wasn't like he had much of a choice, either. Not just because he was in too deep.

 

“I ain't too sure 'bout this, Sarah-Lynn...” Carter rubbed the back of his neck. “This seems awful dangerous.”

Sarah-Lynn had rolled her eyes. “Get me that Fae-Ewe or else I'm tellin' my daddy that you are gladly letting me and my baby starve to death!!”

 

Carter kept his walking confident but still inconspicuous. He couldn't spell that last word, but he knew that he needed to keep himself under the radar of all this creatures lumbering and chattering around him.

He couldn't get distracted. He was here for one thing and one thing only. Fuck the balls of soft light that zipped to and fro. To hell with the nymphs conversing with dryads over hints and notes for aromatherapy blends.

The birds, even! Brilliant splashes of vibrant templates trilling out songs that curled in one's ear with a subtle kiss.

Carter walked along the mossy road, his chin up in the air as he gawked at every bright, lush thing.

He walked past a simple storefront, lovingly crafted baskets in the window. There was a simple table out front. An Ent was crouching in a chair next to it. The living tree, joints all gnarled knots with age, rubbed at the roots in his chin. “Darn saplings...” He grumbled and spat, “Too proud for their plots... Too busy to spend time with their grandpa.” The Ent scratched at the bark on his belly, some of the dead pieces flaking off. A long glance slid back to the table's contents, the Ent spitting once more.

The Ent had just lifted his root-like feet when he saw Carter passing by. “Hey.” He shouted over, “Hey, you!”

Carter jumped two feet into the air. His heart was racing, head turning painfully slow like a creaky flour mill.

Carter swallowed the lump in his throat. “Y-yeah..? What c-can I do ya for?” Hadn't he been careful? He didn't stick out from the crowd, what had gone wrong?!

The Ent kicked a chair out from the table's other side. “Boy, get on over here and do an old tree a favor.”

There was nothing good coming from refusing and drawing more attention. Carter crawled over two steps.

Then two more.

Then three, taking a seat at last. Sweet Jiminy Christmas, talking trees now?! What the hell kind of hootenanny didn't this cursed city have?

The Ent raised a mighty hand and Carter braced himself, muscles tightening and breath going short –

“I know humans aren't as bright as they should be.” The Ent lowered his hand to the table, separating the marked pieces of ivory there. “But I ain't leaving this here table until someone plays a rounda dominoes with me.”

Carter deflated into the chair. “Wait...” He looked to the Ent. Then the dominoes. He was just... going to play some dominoes?

The Ent went on about his ungrateful grand-kids and the slow business day. All the while, Carter had time to recollect.

When had he last played? It had to have been... Yes, when he was in high school. He had gone to visit his own grandfather in the retirement facility a state over.

It had been nice.

It had been the last time he had been allowed to.

“Hey!” The Ent hacked out, “Make a move! I'm wiltin' away here!”

Carter shook his head. While he had gone flipping through the photo album of his mind, the Ent had set the dominoes up along matching holds; a lone piece laying on the table.

“O-oh!” Carter looked at his hold of tiles and then to the piece on the table. Fours on either side...

He popped down a tile that was half four and half six.

“There we go!” The Ent slapped his knee and looked his pieces over. “You got business in ShimmerGale? Haven't seen you around before.”

“Just strollin' through.” Carter replied, quick to get back to the game.

It had been such a long time. Was his grandfather still alive?

He dared to look up at the grumbling Ent when he was keyed in on the table.

The scratching of his belly. The grumpy grumbling. It was all so familiar.

 

“Sarah-Lynn's a snake in the town well.” His grandfather had told him in no shortage of words.

Carter's lips went up in a tight grimace. “Grandpa, don't start this again. Come on,” He shuffled the dominoes, the ivory sliding over the black vinyl table cover, “Let's get a game in before I gotta go.”

“Don't even know what kind of leash that bitch has you on.”

Carter slammed his fist to the table, dominoes falling to the floor. “Grandpa, stop!” Carter stood to his feet. He tossed a finger into the air, his mouth opening.

It closed with a shake of his head. “I ain't...” He rested two fingers to his forehead. “I can't keep comin' to see ya if you keep actin' like this.”

“What kind of girl keeps her boyfriend from seeing his family? Huh?!” The old man scratched at his belly.

Carter stayed quiet. His insides twisted about each other.

“She's still tryin' to get you to move to SouCalifornia?” Carter's grandfather asked. “I'dve known it. The place is a hellhole! Specially after the Great Conflict! No one out there but a bunch of lazy, stubborn idiots who can't see the truth for what it is!” He grabbed several domino pieces, not placing them anywhere but keeping them in his hands. “Will you go to Dama Fristad at least?”

Carter still said nothing.

Carter's grandfather was the one to shake his head at that answer. “You lettin' that girl lead you to your own fool end, son. And for what?”

Three dominoes were set down on the table. “Do you even know if that baby is yours or not?!”

 

The table trembled when Carter set down his latest piece: two on one side, five on the other.

“Hey, watch it!”

Carter caught himself: dragging himself out of the hall of the past and returning to the staircase of the present. “Might sorry about that.”

The Ent grumbled again. Something along the trail of 'crazy humans'.

“Dearie me...” Another hunched-over Ent waddled out of the store. “Things are finally slowing down a bit. Thought I'd bring you buds lunch.” She navigated her own gnarled branches and hands through the small city of tiles on the table. Two plates were set down in what little room remained.

The sweet scent struck Carter like a comet. “What is that?” He turned away from the game, the second Ent resting a hand on her cheek.

“Just some Summer Danishes.” The delicate twisting round of gold that encircled a creamy, molten center of white; all topped with fresh berries and roasted nuts.

Carter looked away from the plate. The old Ent across from him had grabbed his own Danish, crumbs already falling down his chin.

It was weightless in his hands. Carter could feel the dozens of flaky layers that made the sweet's base. He wanted to take a bite. His mouth was watering: how long had it been since he had had something rich and sweet like this? Sugar. Flour. Cream. All that had vanished from SouCalifornia in the wake of the Great Conflict.

The Danish trembled in Carter's quaking fingers. He gulped and finally, finally

Took a bite.

The cheese was sweet, thick: spun to a salacious degree of creaminess, with just a hint of earthy salt.

The berries had a bite of tartness to offset their ripe candied flavour. They burst into a melody of tastes, dripping down the back of his tongue.

He couldn't move.

Could scarcely breathe.

It was only partly due to the tears rolling down his face.

Here, in Dama Fristad, where trees still had vibrant green leaves; where life still flourished.

Here, where an old creature would easily pull him over for a game of dominoes.

Here, where food was plenty enough to create such blessings as what he had eaten.

Why was he here? And, more importantly:

 

When... when had his own life stopped being so beautiful?

“My, you ate that so quickly!” The second Ent giggled, setting another Summer Danish in front of the young human. “You must be hungry!”

And Carter was. God above, he was so hungry for a change in his life! The parch of regret had his stomach cracking in on itself, a thousand times over.

Carter grabbed the second Danish and took a bite.

The second Ent gave a giggle and a nod as she took a Danish for herself. “Yes, the milk from those sweet Fae-Ewes makes all sorts of wonderful things. Medicine, cream, cheese--

“Did you just say Fae-Ewes?!” Carter shouted. The magic fell from his eyes, his true reason for coming to this city clear once more. “Where can I find 'em?! I need to know! Tell me!”

“Boy, what in the name of Trillium the Fair's Sun-kissed Hair has gotten into you?!” The old Ent winced when Carter shot up from his chair, “No one of Eve's womb goes to Trillium's Glen anyway--”

“Trillium's Glen!” Carter peeled out like a bat out of hell, “Got it!”

“Wait!” The Ent reached out after him, “Didn't you hear?!” But Carter was already two blocks away.

Carter kept running.

In the back of his mind, he could have sworn that he heard his grandpa's voice calling out to him.

***

Moss grows on the north side of trees in the human world.

So moss would grow on the side of a tree that faced a source of magic here.

It made sense!

At least Carter thought it made sense.

Nevertheless, the sounds of music, merrymaking, and commerce soon faded out: snuffed out by the neutral expanse of forest he walked into.

He tilted his head back and saw the swaying canopy of these woods. Different than the rest of ShimmerGale: those trees had moved along with the motion of the district. These trees moved in eerie ways; they danced with their branches in minute, soft motions. To ancient songs that no man could hear the words to.

There was something at Carter's foot. “Shit!” He hissed, catching himself from the brief trip of his feet. He turned around but only saw air and swaying grass where he had once been. “Get it together, Carter!” He gave himself a knock on the head and continued on.

That did bring up the question, though. Continue... where? The trees continued their odd, minute dance in the corner of his sight. However, the grassy paths kept shifting.

Carter had to stop and close his eyes. He was getting dizzy. The ground was spinning beneath him; he felt sick.

“What the hell is goin' on here?”

He opened them up and saw the true treasure of the glades. On the one side there was a vast tower that seemed to grow up into the skies from the ground itself. It was covered in moss and reached out with thick, aged branches. But, on the right, was what had to be Carter's true location.

Rows upon rows of chambers, their entryways obscured by willow curtains shifting side to side in the breeze. They were closer to him than the barn and pens in the distance, and Carter could hear bleats coming from the largest structure.

He stole away into the first chamber. In it he found all the means of a dressing chamber. Done up to a fairy-flouncing fifty, of course.

He stepped inside and approached a chest, filled to bursting with silks and furs. “Jesus...” Carter picked up a cloak made from the scarlet fur of a red panda. “Hope they weren't too aggressive.”

“I need naught but a moment.”

Carter tossed the cloak back in and, faster than he could really digest the situation, he dove underneath the chaise-lounge.

“Fahdrua-ahn!” Trillium spat out, charging in and parting the curtains of willow leaves and looking around.

Carter slapped both hands over his mouth. He pleaded his throat to keep his lungs still, to not choke for air as he waited for the powerful creature to part.

He watched as Trillium the Fair's feet, bare, toes painted the hues of the forest, padded over the grass and leaves of the chamber floor.

“Where did I last leave it?” Trillium the Fair asked himself. He padded over the moss and grass, opening wooden cabinets and wardrobes. “Where... Ah!” His quarry was hidden away in his vanity drawer. The rippling silver of the vanity mirror reflected the light of the golden hairbrush that now rested in his hands. “Only the finest.” Trillium the Fair chuckled. He turned towards the curtains.

He waited a moment. A smile flicked upon his lips for a brief second.

And then he left.

Carter waited for the mild footsteps of the ancient creature to fade into the distance. He exhaled the stale air in his chest and took several gulps.

Now or never.

Carter shot out of the willow curtains on the other side of the chamber. The Fae-Ewe were in the ivy-laden pens he had seen on his way in. He could hear soft, unearthly tones formed into unknown words from inside the moss-drenched barn.

Carter jogged over to the pen and climbed over the gates. He was just steps away from doing what he came to do. Carter turned around, head lowering to see the fluffy faces of the Fae-Ewe.

“What in the cotton-pickin' hell?!” He managed to keep it to a whisper but his eyes bugged out of his head. When he had heard the word 'ewe' he was thinking of a creature that was mostly fluff that could come up to his hip at the highest. Docile as they were, these things were the size of horses! With sharp horns that curved upwards like winter holly.

“Shit.” He was starting to shake as he looked around. No. No, this wasn't going to work! He had come all this way but there was no way in hell that he could hope to get out of here with one of these things without having all eyes on him.

“Mee~eeh~!”

Carter looked down at his hip to see a young lamb nibbling at his overalls. Though this one couldn't be but a few months old, she was still an inch or so higher in height than his waist.

“H-hey there little lady...” He looked around to make sure he was still in the clear. He patted the sweet-smelling lamb on her side. More than enough meat to feed two people for a good month or so. “You wanna go for a walk? Huh? Would ya like that?”

“Meh~!” The lamb bleated in joy, her floppy ears falling into her fluffy face.

Carter nodded. “Okay.” He looked back to the barn. “Okay.” Carter held a gentle hand as he led the lamb to the gate. “Here we go – damn, you got a lot of meat on your bones!” He hefted the lamb up as much as he was able and let momentum carry her the rest of the way.

“Easy enough.” Carter nodded to himself. He hopped over the gate and aided the lamb to her hooves before leading her away from the pen.

22: Why Don't Ewe Tell Me?

After fifteen minutes of walking, with the pen and Carter looked down at the lamb. She jumped and flounced a bit at his side.

“You're a happy little thing, ain't ya?” Carter took his backpack off and grabbed a simple knife from it. Simple in size but suitable enough in shape for a job like this. He just needed the meat. He just had to get the meat and all of this would be over. “Now, you stay still.”

“Meh~?” The lamb looked up at Carter. The shiny thing in the human's hands was so strange. Was it food? A different kind of brush?

“Good girl. Good girl...” Carter eased the lamb's head upwards. He had a good view of her neck. It would be a clean cut. The blood would just sink into the grass. That's how it worked, right?

Carter surged the knife down.

“FUCK!” He howled. The knife fell to the ground, away from a frozen, trembling hand. “What's...” Carter gasped for air, his chest constricting.

He took a few steps. He didn't make it to the second, plummeting to the feather-soft grass below. What the hell was going on? His eyes were blown. Pain rolled over his sense of touch, hearing, and even taste.

The lamb padded away. She nibbled at some of the grass and wondered if she had missed lunch. But at the scent of nature's bouquet of blossoms, she ran and jumped up to see the new form in the glade.

“I can honestly never understand what it is with you humans.” Trillium the Fair hefted the lamb into his arms without any sign of effort. “With everything in the world at your hands, given to you, you lot always go after that not meant for you.”

The soles of his painted feet kissed upon the grass. He kept a gentle pace around the seething, sobbing form on the ground. “Fahdrua-ahn...” He toyed with the lamb's curls, cooing, “So pitiful...”

“Fuck!” Carter pushed himself onto his back. His muscles, his skin, even the marrow in his bones all were being pulled asunder by a thousand vicious claws. “God damn it! Okay!” He croaked out through gritted teeth. “'m sorry! I'll leave your sheep alone, just let me go!!”

Trillium the Fair frowned. He let the lamb jump to the floor and watched her run as fast as her little hooves could carry her.

Trillium the Fair merely flexed his fingers and his mighty staff came floating to him. The floating stones on the top of it, shaped as moonlight and sunlight, in moonlight and sunlight, spun round each other.

“Not only do they keep stealing from me...” He whispered to himself, the only warmth in his eyes coming from the light of his staff. “Yet they try to bargain when they get caught.”

Trillium sensed something amiss on the grass. He looked down and saw the human's backpack, as well as the discarded knife he was about to commit the heinous crime with.

Trillium poked the bag open with the bottom of his staff. The only thing inside of it happened to be a slip of paper.

“Hm?” Trillium the Fair, after a moment or two of hesitation, tipped his staff in the paper's direction. It flapped like a bird into the air, suspending itself up in front of Trillium's eyes.

A picture.

Of the human writhing in pain in his glade and another human who was well along the way of expecting. Though her attitude... Trillium smiled. “My... what an ugly girl.”

“Sh-shut up...” Carter's body was thrumming in molten pain. But he couldn't let that slide. “M-m-other... of my... ba--”

“Oh, no she isn't. Stop deluding yourself.” Trillium the Fair sent the photo away from his sight. It tore itself into a dozen pieces and fell to the grass. “All I see is a foolish child on some asinine sin against my nature.” He chuckled, “But even I can see that you were working in vain for an ugly heart. Pitiful child.” He poked the miserable human in the forehead with his staff.

Though the agony lanced through his nerves with every breath he took, Carter managed to shake his head. Tears had rolled up from his unrelenting pain. The elf's words just made them fat with his grief.

“Just do whatever you want.” Carter let his head fall back. “Ya hear me?! Do whatever ya God damn want!”

'Just let me forget my mistakes.'

Trillium the Fair tilted his head at the writhing human. He turned around and leaned against his staff. “I'm not going to do anything.”

He closed his eyes. A neutral smile grew on his lips at the sound of cracking bone and tormented, gurgling howls. “It's already being done.”

***

Carter was being carried.

His eyelids were too heavy to pick up but the pain... the pain was finally gone.

Blind as he seemingly was, he could hear just fine. The buttery melodies of bleats were an ocean around him.

“A-Taisce, a-taisce...”

That voice. The elf! Trillium the Fair! Was he the one carrying him? He had picked up that lamb like it was nothing. But why would he be holding him? Carter forced his eyes to follow his will, only managing a sliver of exposure. He could see the other Fae-Ewe, the ones he couldn't possibly hope to carry out of Dama Fristad.

They were all eating, looking at Trillium, or trying to get a better look at him.

'He's gonna feed me to 'em, isn't he?' Carter twisted this way and that in a weak stroke at finding freedom.

“Oh, they're awake.” Trillium the Fair turned Carter back around. The smile that Carter saw on the elf's face made his blood run cold for some reason. “You had me worried with your long nap. Ah, well.”

'Long nap?'

Trillium the Fair turned to the rest of his rowdy flock. “Come now, stop with this bachram.” He snapped his fingers, all the Fae-Ewe ceasing their motions and looking towards him. “Better. Now, I have something for all of you. A grand gift. No need to thank me, though I won't reject it if you did.”

'What in the jumpin' hell is he goin' on about?' Carter opened his mouth, just for Trillium the set him down upon the grass.

He didn't waste a second; Carter jumped up on his feet.

'To hell with Sarah-Lynn! I'm goin' Vegan after all thi – Oh shit!'

Carter's face was quickly introduced to the ground. 'Ow..! What the hell?'

Carter tried to pick himself up again and only managed to repeat his actions. 'Come on!'

'What's are they doing, mama?'

'Shh, little one. They have obviously been ill for a night or so.'

Carter whipped his head up. Where had those voices come from?

Trillium the Fair tut-tutted with a slow shake of his head. “You are going to hurt yourself, little one.”

'Who the hell is he callin' little?!' Carter turned around to snap at the elf. He stopped, his tracks frozen as he looked up. Why... why was this guy so much taller than him now? 'Hey! What are you up to? Some kind of freaky size-changin' magic?!'

Trillium hummed, tilting his head. “What's that, wee one? I'm so sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand you.”

Trillium the Fair stopped. He thought over his words. He chuckled again.

'The fuck are you talkin' about?!' Carter fumed and jumped up and down. 'Ya got what ya wanted, now let me go!'

“Ah, where is my head. I haven't given you a name.” Trillium the Fair continued, “What would sound nice? Orange-blossom?”

'I'm right here!' Another one of those voices rang out, a Fae-Ewe with creamy orange wool stepping forward.

“Of course, silly me.” Trillium the Fair smiled, “How about... Persimmon?”

'I HAVE A NAME!' Carter shouted again. He charged towards the powerful creature, not deterred when he fell on his face and knocked over a pail of water. 'Shit! Why can't he hear me?! Wh –'

Carter shook his head, trying to remove some of the water that had splashed on him. He lowered his gaze to the surface of the puddle he made.

There was a sheep there. A lamb. She had silky, curly wool the color of cream, dotted with orange spots. Was Carter underwater? Maybe the fall had sent him into a lake. There could be a lamb looking down at him.

That's what he told his quickening heart. He needed to get out of there before he drowned. Carter reached out towards the surface with a bright orange hoof –

This wasn't happening.

This was a dream. He hadn't gone into Dama Fristad, he had just passed out near the gates!

“I've got it.” Trillium the Fair clapped his hands together. “Carrot. That's what I'll call you. How do you fancy that, my new little lamb?”

'NO!' Carter screamed, the sound coming out as a panicked bleat. He bolted away from the puddle, only to be stopped by one of the larger Fae-Ewe, the one with the rouge coat who smelt of cranberries and soft cream.

'Calm yourself down, Carrot.' She bleated down at him... At her.

'No! No, no, no!' Carter, or rather, Carrot shook her head: wool whipping about her floppy ears. 'This ain't right! I'm not supposed to be here! I can't –' Carrot stopped. Her chest heaved up and down under her downy wool curls.

When had hi –

When had her voice started sounding so soft? Like wind-chimes on a farm being tossed about by warm summer winds?

Carrot fell to the ground, burying her face into the grass: dirt turning to mud from her tears. 'This ain't right..! Change me back! Change me back, please..!'

Trillium the Fair stepped out of the pen. A wave of his staff saw the heavy lock of the pen swinging down and locking itself. “A-Taisce...” He waved back at the flock, “Please make your new daughter and sister feel right at home.”

 

 

Borne from a flower bloomed by the gods

Clever no matter the storme'st of odds

He is our treasure, with diamondine flair,

Our treasure, his glory: Trillium the Fair!

 

See, as he rides from o'er the hill!

Fae-Ewen mount and crystalline bells!

Feast your eyes on his Sun-Kissed Hair

Our guardian, Trillium the Fair!

23: Fill Her Shoes

Wings of glass spun from absinthe forced Fane through the fog-thick air above the valleys of lonely graves and tombs. Behind him, barks that rolled up from the underworld: echoing through the darkened skies above Necronia's lonely grave community.

It would be a crime to call it a graveyard, for it reached out in several directions: vast like a wealthy suburb nestled in hidden mountains.

Fane hated this. He hated flying and he hated these God-forsaken acres of death and decay. But he was running out. He needed to replenish his supplies before his next shipment had to go out.

Splintering glass.

Fane's one eye went wide. Shit. Shit! He wasn't supposed to fly for too long at a time, his body wasn't used to it yet!

Fane dipped behind the load-bearing beam of a massive ceramic mausoleum.

He forced himself to stay still. The panting beasts chasing him, with their noxious oozing drool and their ghastly white eyes would pass him by without a second thought. As long as Fane didn't make any

Sudden

Moves.

The thunder of footsteps approached.

The thunder of footsteps faded away.

“Fucking finally.” Fane stepped out from the shadows of the mausoleum. He glanced back at the pair of wings on his back. They were still too small. Too fragile.

One hour and then a time. That was all Fane could manage before...

The phantom spread his wings. He flinched as the spider's web cracks began to grow.

“Damn it!” He punched the pillar. His wings retracted into his back and under his hoodie. Fane got to walking. He wanted to get what he needed and get out before his mother knew he was out wandering.

Fane adjusted the backpack he had and quickened his pace to a jog.

However, the growling that surged up behind him prompted him into a run. “Shit! Shit!” Fane's feet kicked up moss, dirt, and dust. Hot puffs of air were on his heels, fangs coated in slime snapping just out of reach. A fourth bark cracked out from his right. A heaving form of fur and black and mist tackled into Fane. He was sent into the miserable ground, pressed into the decaying grass from above; foul green slobber all over his cheeks and joined by more when the other hounds came over.

“Fucking damn it!” Fane seethed out. He pressed his hands against them, a paint-peeling frown on his now-sticky divided face. “Get off of me, you stupid mutts!”

The Baskerville Hounds, all dopey smiles and panting maws, kept licking and sniffing at their young ward. Happy barks and yearning whines left them at random intervals when they finally let themselves be pushed back.

Fane dusted his butt off and looked at the front of his hoodie. Slime and slobber rolled down the drenched fabric. “Damn it..!”

Fane glared at the Baskerville Hounds. Each of the massive beasts, of course, wagging their tails or jumping about; ready for play. “Go home!” Fane yelled, jabbing a finger westward. “Go on, you stupid fucks! Go!”

The Baskerville Hounds jumped on top of Fane again. They buried him in cold noses and slime and slobber: Fane barely able to shout out his frustration.

“E...” He coughed, pushing away again. “Enough!” This time the Hounds got the hint. To a degree. They all hopped and wagged their tails some more. Were they going to play? Did the young master have snacks for them?

Fane rolled his eyes. He reached his necrotic arm underneath his hoodie. There was a click.

A crack.

The phantom slowly pulled out his skeletal arm. The Hounds exploded into barks and whines. “Shut up..!” Fane hissed. He whipped his arm back and sent his bony arm flying into the darkness and mist.

Quick as your local coke addict running after daddy, the Hounds bounded after the arm: baying and barking all the while.

Fane stayed still. He just needed them to slag off for at least two miles. Just so they wouldn't be focused on him.

Three... Two... One...

He held his remaining hand up in the air. His arm cut through the air like a boomerang until he caught it. “Thank God for dumb-ass mutts.” That little trip would keep them occupied just long enough for Fane to get what he needed and get the hell out.

***

Both arms back where they belonged, Fane dragged himself through the misty acres and the long crops of tombstones and monuments.

He was far enough that no one who admired life would dare to hunt him out.

Fane tossed his backpack onto the ground, cracking open the zipper. He tore out a shovel, simple ebony wood, simple iron head, and looked around.

An abusive mother, maybe.

A serial killer, definitely.

Ooh, wait.

Fane walked along a row of stones and statues. His shadow followed him, blanketing along like a loyal after-image should.

Passing the fourth tombstone, the shadow stopped as Fane went on.

The gossamer layer of ink faked left. Then right. It looked around, an impressive feat without eyes.

Better to fix that sooner than later.

One whirling pool of white smoke appeared. Its twin appeared soon after. Finally, crackling like a dying flame, a crescent moon of a grin split the shadow's face; their form condensing down to the size of a child. With remnants of shadows spiraling up from their frame, the shadowy form floated along the ground and the stones until they bobbed up and down behind Fane.

“Hey kid...” The shadows watched Fane dig into the frigid, hard earth. “Working it hard or is it hardly working for ya?”

“Go away, Akeldama...” Fane didn't even give Necronia's Guardian an acknowledging nod.

Akeldama pouted but floated right next to Fane's face. He smushed his smokey cheek up against Fane's frowny face. “So...” Akeldama asked, “Huntin' for some good head? You and every other young thing in this town.” Akeldama tapped at his temple. “Some of the old ones, too. Now that I'm thinkin' on it.”

“Oh my God, please fuck off..!”

Akeldama dipped away, avoiding Fane's waving hands. “Hey now..!” Akeldama folded their hands. “It's not always about you, ya know! Maybe I'm lonely and bored! Come on..!”

A decaying coffin was exposed to the night air. The shovel dug into what was left of the rotting wood and Fane rooted around inside. Where was it... It couldn't have broken down already.

Fane pulled his hands back and admired the treasure in his hands.

Human skulls weren't much to jot down as 'special', but when someone lived such a vile life, only causing suffering and reveling in it...

That was what could produce a skull, stained with dark energy and reeking with the rotten, bittersweet scent of wasted fruit.

“Whoa...”

Fane looked around, choking when Akeldama fazed through his chest and grabbed the skull. “What a beaut! Fane, you shouldn't have..!”

“What?! No!” Fane shoved Akeldama out and snatched the skull away. “I didn't come out here for you! Go away!”

“But Fane~!!” Akeldama pouted. A wash of shadow sloughed down from their back. It lashed at the air and snapped against itself.

The ground quaked. Two gigantic bookcases burst from the ground. Dirt and pebbles rained all over the grave community. But Akeldama merely floated over to the bookcases. The falling debris merely went through them. “Look at 'em all!” Akeldama grinned up at his precious bounty.

Skulls. Thousands of skulls that had been lacquered, polished, and either encrusted with gems or painted and baked. “My babies..!”

Fane looked up at the two massive bookcases. Damn it, if he had even a third of Akeldama's collection, he could happily avoid this side of Dama Fristad for years.

But then, and this made him grit his teeth with the audible sound of mineral scratching against mineral, all that glitter and gunk on them made them useless.

And that didn't even include what was going to happen next...

“Lookit this one!” Akeldama grabbed a skull that had a fancy silk collar wrapped around its base; the bone lacquered a rich blue. “So much for being 'an Immortal Bard', huh?” Akeldama grabbed another, this one engraved with the drooping, scarlet petals of Argentina's national bloom. “Evita really deserved better than this guy. But, hell, what can ya do? Look! I even got Hitler a few months back!”

Both Fane and Akeldama glanced at the last shelf of one of the bookcases. There, shoved into a corner and only half refurbished, were the crumbling remains of a skull. A few flies buzzed around it.

“Just between you and me,” Akeldama whispered into Fane's ear, “I think that one's a little retarded.”

Fane tossed his bangs. “Whatever. You're not getting this one.”

He shoved the malevolent skull into his bag and did a haphazard job of pushing the dirt and wood back into the grave.

Fane moved onto a new burial site. Akeldama had started complaining again. “Kids these days are so rude! D'ya know I still pay your mother's paychecks, ri--”

Akeldama blinked, their words cutting out.

They floated behind Fane, peeking over Fane's shoulder, asking, “How have your parents been doin'?”

Fane rooted around in the next coffin. The earth hadn't set too harshly with this grave. “I don't fucking know.”

Akeldama's smokey grin shriveled into a flat, low line.

“Ya know... Running away from your responsibilities... Usually has the consequence of makin' things worse.”

The closest tombstone exploded into a cloud of dust and crumbles of concrete. The shovel was no more: its pieces mixed into the chaos.

Fane glared at the tombstone turned dust. His chest rose and fell, lone eye blazing and wings outstretched behind him.

Akeldama stayed their course. It was a foolhardy endeavor to try and frighten Death, let alone it's Shadow.

Fane withdrew his wings. His eye returned to its normal glow. “Whatever.” He scoffed and lifted his bag from the ground. Two skulls would have to do.

“Are you heading home already?” Akeldama watched Fane walk back towards the desolate path. “Ya sure you don't need to do anything else while you're here?”

“I'd rather piss acid than stay with you five more minutes.” Fane called back once he was half the path away. He just wanted to get home and get to work. He didn't trust his luck beyond the frayed edges that were still allowing him to be in the grave community without hearing the flapping of raven's feathers or the resounding echo of funeral bells.

He stopped.

Looking ahead of himself, he couldn't believe how stupid he was to have tried a stunt like this.

She trailed fog wherever she went: providing the weight that her skeletal frame severely lacked. Bones as white as ash gripped tightly onto the scythe in her fingers. Her cloak danced around her link the embodiment of grief: all-encompassing, ever-shifting.

She looked down the path and noticed an unneeded presence in her way.

“Oh.” The Grim Reaper set her scythe into the ground. “It's you.”

Fane opened his mouth. “I--”

A slow hand lifted into the air.

Fane shut his mouth instantly. His eye shot down to the ground.

The Grim Reaper lifted her free hand. Descending down from her bony wrist was a shifting length of iron chain-links. Some flaked rust, others chimed the song of funerary bells.

“Just tonight,” The Grim Reaper spoke, “I have ushered ten and twenty souls away to the shore of passing.” She clenched her hand into a fist. The empty darkness within her eye-sockets bore into Fane. His chest ran cold, even if he couldn't meet her gaze.

The Grim Reaper seized the chain-links. Fane winced, despite himself. He knew the weight of those chains and how fast the Grim Reaper could move them all too well.

“How is it that I can snuff life out as easy as the breeze but my heir resigns himself to constant failure?” She gave her heir a once-over. “What do you call yourself wearing? Get rid of that filth immediately.”

Fane couldn't argue. In a rolling, green flare, his hoodie was wiped away: a hooded cloak of gray remaining.

The Grim Reaper's voice betrayed her persistent disapproval. “How can the sight of one creature fill me with so much disappointment?”

Fane kept his view low to the ground. He yearned to just bury himself in the lifeless earth.

The Grim Reaper turned around. “Had I known the mistake that would incessantly look back at me with your existence... I would never have gone through the effort of crafting you.”

Fane's mouth popped open, “Y—”

The Grim Reaper lifted her hand once more. Fane shut himself up.

“I shall check your progress on my own.” She held her hand upward and flat into the air.

“CRAAAAWWW!”

Fane's jaw clenched tight when beating wings clapped right into his ears. The winged beast carved through the laden skies. With its wings reaching wider than a man could lay out, it rested one of its talons on top of the offered hand. Two sets of eyes rolled around its sockets, milky white in blindness yet constantly seeing.

The eyes stopped.

“EIGHT!” It croaked out, spittle leaving its beak, “A MERE EIGHT, M'LADY!!”

“That is enough.” The Grim Reaper tossed the Miser Crow into the air above. It flopped in the air, desperate to right its panicked form until it evened itself out.

She looked back down at Fane. So cold...

“Why are you here?”

“Hey Fane..!” Akeldama peeked out from behind one of the tombstones. “Didja find it ye – Oh!” Akeldama skipped along the shadows, pooling themselves onto the ground between harbinger and heir. “Hey there, Reaper. You here escorting souls?”

“...” The Grim Reaper didn't respond save for a glare at first. “..Yes.”

“Nice, nice...” Akeldama gave themselves some form, “I just asked Fane to come out here to help me find some GrimShrooms. I promised Trillium I would get him some and then we got swamped down at the hall with that truckful of nuns and prisoners. So much denial and frantic praying – my head was killing me--”

“I will be taking my leave.” The Grim Reaper turned on her heeled sandal. But she still had one last word for her heir. “Do well not to disappoint myself or your father again.”

She walked away until her visage melted into the fog.

Fane didn't lift his head until he felt the suffocating aura in the air fade away. “Why did you do that?” He asked, his cloak burning back into his hoodie.

“Geez Louise, kid, can't you ever just say 'thank you'?”

Fane didn't respond after that. He just wanted to get home. Akeldama simply shook their head.

“Whatever. You go on then, I'm gonna go get some sleep before shoving my face against the grindstone of a thousand cries for mercy.”

Fane spread his wings; a gust of air flying past Akeldama, the sound of swaying glass chandeliers ringing off of the tombstones.

“Hm?” Akeldama fluttered close. The crack in one of the phantom's wings was clear as day. “Really?” Akeldama sighed before exhaling a spindly web of white shadows. Building up until they had enough weight behind them, that was when they slunk forward and embedded into Fane's cracked wing.

“The fuck are you doing?” Fane's words were bitter but their weight was nonexistent. He was tired. He just wanted to get as far away from his mother as possible.

A poof of fog.

The crack, Fane noted with surprise, was gone. “W-wait, why--”

“Go home, kid.” Akeldama coiled into a tight ball of darkness, vanishing from sight.

Fane was left facing his shadow's warped surface upon the woeful ground.

***

As soon as he got back to the condo, wings aching and complaining, Fane made short work of connecting his phone to a set of black speakers. They were decorated with shocks of bone and carved ebony. He sank down to the matching table in his room. The only light in the dismal chamber came from one of two large candles, each dancing with an emerald flame, and his one ominous eye.

He brought everything that he needed to its right place. The bloated, twisting beakers, the large mortar and pestle, several dishes of varying sizes, and a small bowl made for hosting flames of usable sizes.

Fane turned in his chair. The phantom's foot tapped the beat of the music while he pulled a thin cloth mask over the bottom of his face.

Okay.

He was finally ready.

First ingredient. He had done this a thousand times and he would do it a thousand more. He could mix in his sleep without any distractions.

Though his mind was heavy with distractions at the moment.

Fane mixed in a cloud of this, a splash of that. 80 Grams here, 24 Grams there. Roll to a soft boil. Fane watched the mixture in the beaker fold from black to ribbons of blue. Alright. He just needed a sprinkle of that last ingredient. He opened his backpack and retrieved one of the skulls that he had gotten earlier that night.

He placed it into a pot, triggering a slice of that malevolent energy. “Shit!” Fane grabbed the beaker with his skeletal hand, not having time to grab gloves. He poured the first substance over the skull and shielded his eye from the sparks of violet flame. He kept pouring until the beaker was empty, watching as the skull broke into splintered portions; eventually dissolving into the ooze.

A pair of tongs stirred into the slime. The bone fragments soon melted away from sight, the entirety of the mixture bubbling bright and green. Just like his eye.

It was while he was getting empty vials ready for this batch of concoction that Fane felt vibrating at his hip. It couldn't have been from his main phone, that had his all-time favorite song from Black Echoes Memories as the ringtone.

Fane struggled to pull out the simple phone from his back pocket. “What the hell is it now?”

“Boss!” A frantic croak from the other end, “I know you never want us calling you, b-b-b-but I was just wondering... if it's not too much trouble... I-if you could maybe... If you have the time--”

“Spit it out or I slit your throat through this phone.” Fane grit out, his eyes watching his hands as they poured the steaming concoction into the waiting vials.

“AH! I'M SORRY!” The voice panicked, “WE'RE RUNNING LOW ON SUPPLY AND WE JUST NEED TO KNOW WHEN YOU'LL BE COMING BY TO GIVE US MORE TO SELL SO WE DON'T LOSE YOUR CUSTOMERS!!”

Fane set the empty pot back onto the table. He grabbed one of the vials, rolling it between his decaying fingers. His lone eye shined over the glass, but the fluid inside sparked every time Fane said a word. “I'll make the delivery tomorrow. On the Subways. Don't be fucking late.”

“OF COURSE! OF COURSE! Thank you so much, Bo--”

Fane hung up. He didn't need all that screeching in his ear while he was trying to pack this stuff up.

It took a while for users to get to the point of OD-ing, and not in nearly as many numbers as his mother's reaping took in.

But this is what worked for him.

Sometimes, like then as he fell into his chair, Fane really wondered if he was the right choice as the Grim Reaper's heir. She was constantly disappointed in him, no matter what he did, and his father wasn't any help either.

“Damn it.” Fane scrubbed his hand down the skinless half of his face.

24: Vatertag - Part 1

Nephubos trained all three of their eyes onto the calendar wrapped by their tentacles. 'We do not...' They tilted their head. 'Recognize this holiday.'

The tentacle-bleb, who had been sitting at the table and attempting to master the mystery of oatmeal, lifted their head when Gahiji bounced into frame. 'Gahiji? Could we please get a moment?'

Gahiji stopped mid-bounce, his body suspended in the air. “Sure!” He beamed, body floating over to Nephubos's side. “What's up?”

Nephubos watched Gahiji's paws finally meet the floor. 'We were examining the calen-daaar,' Nephubos began, tapping a tentacle against the day's date, 'But the holiday here is not being familiar to us.'

Gahiji looked over the selection and he beamed. “Oh hey! It's Father's Day!”

The sphinx bounced over to the balcony, nearly bowling Suraj over in his haste. He jumped out and propped up on his hind-legs. “Happy Father's Day, He Who Reigns Over the Light~!”

Ra turned the sun around to get a good look at Gahiji's shining face. “At least someone appreciates me as a father-figure.”

Walking down the street came Sekhmet. The war-goddess bearing a bouquet of flowers and a cake in her arms. Hearing Ra's words had her looking down at her gifts. She let them drop to the ground. “Well, fuck me; am I right?”

***

One of the Traveling Turtles of Aquacia bobbed in her place on the water.

“Last call for tickets!” The dock-guard called out. “Turtle-36 to CenterPointe, last call --”

They stopped when a small hand waved some money for them to see. The Dock-Guard folded their arms and looked across three young faces. “Aren't you three a little on the young side to be going on Traveling Turtle alone?”

One of the small bodies surged up in a cloud of purple, shimmering fire.

“Sorry, sorry.” A new voice tried to soothe the flames down. “We're just trying to find our vater – I mean – father.” When the flames went down and soft content growling began, the voice added, “Please? I have enough money for tickets. We just can't walk all that way.”

The Dock-Guard sighed, “Fine. Just get on the turtle and – no, keep your money.” They watched the three small bodies climb on and find seats. “Put your seatbelts on!” They called to the three small bodies and then addressed the other passengers, “That goes for all of you!”

The giant turtle shook her head to remove the crabs camping out on top of her nose. With a nod to the Dock-Guard, she began the slow and steady glide through Aquacia's crystal waters.

Gloved hands, white with flower-shaped buttons on the wrists, dug into a skirt pocket for a handkerchief. “Calm down...” The first voice whispered. “We've made it. We just has to find Vati and everything will be okay.”

“And according to my research,” A second voice, a bit nasally and scratchy, “Which is, heh, never wrong, as long as we have his address, we'll find him no problem.”

A happy growl was their response.

***

An eye was looking through the lense created by an interlocking set of fingers. “Mm-hm,” The DFPD receptionist nodded to themselves, “Just what I thought. Definite Dad-Bod.”

“Did you need something?” Abelard turned around from the notes he had been reading and walking with.

“No, no.” The receptionist quickly looked away. Abelard shrugged and continued to the debriefing room. The receptionist turned back to their work on the computer. They needed to get everyone's traffic-duty and security routes all set up before the end of the day.

However, they had failed to notice the extra party near their desk. “You are about as subtle as a brick to the dick.” Said the vampire officer.

“I will put you on Refinery Secruity.” The receptionist didn't even look away. “Don't even try me; you'll never be able to get the smell out of your uniform.”

Abelard set the notes down on the main table in the debriefing room. “I cross-referenced the residue from the gem warehouse explosion in Ignis Fanis.”

“What did you find?” Guang asked, plucking a stray, cooling feather from one of his fiery wings.

Abelard began right away. “The residue held signatures of Fire-Ivy Extract, along with Draconic scale fragments.”

Izumi folded his arms, looking down at pictures: dozens of still shots of the now-dilapidated building belching smoke, flames bursting through windows that Dama Fristad's Firefighting Squadron had tirelessly worked to put out.

Izumi closed his eyes. “Hunters...”

“The bastards are getting far too bold!” Rebekah hissed, the dragon's tail flicking against the ground. “And it's only worse that we can never get anything out of the ones we stop!”

Guang sighed, “Seriously. Even Cruickshank can't get anything out of the one we brought back from the crime-scene. This is all such a pain...”

Abelard picked up the notes and started to leave the room. It was then that Guang leaned over to ask Rebekah, “So... What did you get the Rabbi for Father's Day this year?”

One of Rebekah's eyebrows lifted. “The same thing I get him every year. A new bathing robe, a new set of inking brushes, and I will take him out for dinner at his favorite Chinese restaurant.”

Guang could only shake his fiery head. “Haven't you ever thought of twisting things up a little?”

“I refuse to fix what isn't broken.”

Guang rolled his eyes and then turned to Izumi, the karasu-tengu's eyes still on the photographs of the crime scene. “What about you? Doing anything special for your dad?”

“The day I left home,” Izumi began, not looking up from the table, “My brother and I divided Holiday duties. I got Mother's Day, Christmas, and others. He got Father's Day, Labor Gratitude Day, and the rest.”

And Izumi left it at that.

Guang looked at his fellow Elites and could only let the building sigh in his chest roll out. “Was looking for suggestions on what to get Abelard but, okay...”

***

Through knife-like teeth and dark, abysmal eyes, the scarlet body of Ahi, the great two-headed serpent of Indian myth, regarded the three small bodies asking them questions.

“1685 Blightblossom Lane?” One of the heads asked.

“Yes.” The scratchy voice said, holding up a notepad in lace-gloved hands, “According to my research, which is never wrong,” They stopped to laugh, “That is the place our Vati is.”

The second of Ahi's heads mulled the address over until he said, “Alright, what yer gunna wanna do is take Riverstep Boulevard down to Pompi Street. You'll tackle a hard right and keep goin' until you get to Blightblossom Lane. If ya reach Honeysuckle Place, you've gone too far. Didja catch alla that?”

Three heads nodded upwards.

“Alright, go on. Get.”

When the three small bodies began to depart, Ahi's first head stretched over to their second. “I'm surprised at you.”

“I'm not a complete monster.” Ahi's second head shook itself.

The first head watched the three retreating forms as long as they could see them.

“I like some meat on my meals, ya know?”

“Damn it.”

***

Stale water dripped down from ceilings painted in scenes of the Grim Reaper mounted upon a skeletal horse.

Or the Grim Reaper walking through a decimated European town.

Or the Grim Reaper holding a frail, gaunt man in a ghastly parody of the Pieta.

Fane glared up into glowing blue eyes surrounded by shadow.

Erysichthon, Dama Fristad's resident Lich, looked down upon his son.

He lifted up a mighty arm clad in black armor that bespoke an eerie blue mist...

“So...” Erysichthon scratched the back of his helmet. “How are... things?”

Fane scoffed and folded his arms. He was at least given some more angst-ing room since he had been forced into his cloak again.

Erysichthon let his eyes roam about the chamber they were in. “Have you been Tweeting your Tumblbook and all that? Whatever you... young nonhumans do these days?”

Fane rolled his eye, “Damn it, that's not even – Stop...”

“Look, kid.” Erysicthon knelt down, still towering over Fane by five or more feet, “You've gotta throw me a bone. I'm trying here.”

“Can we just eat or whatever the fuck you wanted to do?” The sooner he could get back to the condo, the better. He fucking hated Father's Day...

Erysichthon held out a hand towards his only son. But he decided against it, retrieving it. “If that's what you want.”

***

Zach wasn't the fondest of Mother or Father's day. Maybe it was because he hadn't seen his own parents for more than a few years now, but he wasn't the type to try and ruin the enjoyment of others. “Going out for coffee.” He announced to a room full of activity. When no one answered, he shrugged and continued on. “Periwinkle,” Zach said, opening the door, “Do you want a cake p--”

“I'm going to knock on the door. Are you sure this is the right place?”

Zach found himself looking at three young creatures. Two of them had the bodies of young girls, one slightly older than the other... Did European Wendigoes start out as children? Didn't they have to be cursed like their Native American counterparts?

But, beyond all that, the third one had him thinking for a bit. Even when they floated up to his shirt and started sniffing at it. The flames around her skull moved more like powder but still held heat. Yet, the heat wasn't burning at that moment.

Perwinkle popped out of the Blightblossoms on the door. “It's been a while since I've seen a Bubble.” The doorfairy flew up and landed on a leaf. “She's pretty young, too.” The Bubble finally stopped sniffing and let out a happy... not quite bark and not quite hiss.

Zach looked from the youngest to the apparent oldest of these newcomers: who was now glaring up at him. He took a low breath. “Okay. Come in.”

***

Zach set three plates in front of the three young creatures. “If you've come as far as I think you all have, then that should tide you over.”

“Until?” The oldest of the three regarded Zach with eyes that burned blue and green.

Zach poured out three glasses of lemonade. He set them out near each creature, but had to stop and think when it came to the Bubble.

A straw was set into one of the glasses with a 'pop'. “Here you go.” 

The Bubble growled and grunted into her plate and succeeded in sending food everywhere.

The middle creature reached for her food, simple meatloaf sandwiches for the three of them, but the eldest kept her burning eyes on Zach.

Zach quickly fixed his own sandwich and leaned against the kitchen counter: now fresh and clean with lemon. “So... do you feel like telling me your names?” He took a bite, chewed it once.

Twice.

Swallowed.

“I'm Zach.”

The eldest of the three said, “I think we're going to w--”

“I'm Beatrisa!” Said the middle child with the owl skull for a head and bright green eyes hidden behind glasses. She pointed to the messy Bubble sipping at lemonade. “She's Constanz and she's--”

“My name is Heidi.” The eldest of the three huffed. The sound whistled through her draconic skull. “Even if I wanted to keep that a secret. Beatrisa!”

Constanz floated over with powdery flames sparkling ever brighter after the hearty meal. Heidi reached into her pocket for her handkerchief. Constanz was always such a messy eater.

“Hey, easy.”

Heidi shrunk back, watching Zach clean the fiery Bubble's face; in spite of any potential burns. Who was this human? Why was he here?

Where was their father?

***

“Ach du liber, but of course...” Abelard tapped a finger against the steering-wheel where he was trapped in evening traffic.

At least it wasn't caused by feuding dragons or a royal promenade. That would have been the last thing Abelard needed on this Father's Day.

Abelard leaned back in his seat. He opened the glove compartment and brought out an aged photograph.

His daughters... Heidi would surely be older now. Beatrisa, ever the inquisitive sort. And little Constanz's adorable smile.

Abelard set the photo back in its place. The decision to leave them had been met with many tears and much disagreement. But Abelard hadn't had a choice. His services weren't required in Koniglicher-Blitz, the land that had once been known as Germany. And he needed to provide for his girls...

Abelard pulled up when traffic allowed. His thoughts traveled back to the scene of the destroyed gem-bank.

How many creatures were now out of employment and in hospitals because of such a strike? At least in Koniglicher-Blitz, in the care of his old friend, his girls would be safe.

They would have no reason to come to the Freedom-Divided States.

25: Vatertag - Part 2

Abelard carried his heavy form up the stairs to 1685. “Why did we ever create traffic?” He whispered to no one in particular. He got close to the door and waited for Periwinkle to pop his head out of the Blightblossoms.

“Abelard?” The doorfairy asked, “Wow, just all sorts of boneheads coming through today.”

The door clicked open, Abelard asking, “I beg your pardon?” He didn't keep to the thoughts, stepping inside...

And stopping.

His briefcase fell to the floor, almost unheard amongst side-conversations and whatever noises coming from Mira's laptop.

“Mein... honigbienen...”

Heidi turned towards the front door. “Vati!” The trio shouted. Or, two of them shouted and one made an undescribable bit of noise. They all jumped over and tackled themselves into him.

Abelard held his daughters as much and a bit more than he was able. His heart had swiftly filled to bursting and the cup was spilling over.

“Wait.”

He fell down to one knee and looked Heidi in the eye. “Why aren't the three of you in Koniglicher-Blitz? Where's Klausine?”

As happy as the three children were, it vanished so quickly. Their voices rushed to quietness: Beatrisa and Constanz looking to Heidi for what they should do next.

Heidi looked to the floor and whispered. “Die Schuld.”

Abelard whispered, shaking his head. “Alas, mein friende...”

Too many had fallen to that woeful force already. Yet it still had Koniglicher-Blitz under its crushing weight. “At least you three are safe. How on earth did you get here?”

Beatrisa giggled and tapped a gloved finger to her notebook. “Just a little bit of research and we got here just fine. I'm never wrong.”

***

Abelard wasn't ungrateful. That his daughters had crossed an ocean and who knows how many blockades to get to him was nothing short of a miracle. But...

He watched his daughters slowly fall asleep in his bed that evening: Beatrisa and Constanz both snuggled into either side of Heidi. He eventually closed the door and walked to the main room.

He thought; swam deep in the ocean of his mind.

…

They couldn't stay here in the Freedom-Divided States.

“Dama Fristad is probably the safest place for them to be. Especially without an ocean and six different borders between you guys.”

Abelard surged up from the ocean with a splash. Zach leaned on the couch behind him, face not arguing and words not accusing.

“At one point I thought that too.” Abelard sighed, removing his glasses to rub at the front of his skull. “Zach, what am I going to do? I can't send them back to Koniglicher Blitz and I can't keep them here without knowing they'll be safe.”

Zach didn't know what was going on at the police department to make Abelard worry so much. But he did understand not wanting to have the girls there at the condo.

Especially not with Gahiji's hyper state, Fane being an angsty piece of shit, Odysseus being...

Abelard and Zach looked to the couch to see Odysseus chomping on chili fries while swiping through potential hookups on his phone. “Egh, hard fucking no.” He swiped away from Nekomata. “Your pussy can't be good enough to get past that face.” He swiped away from a zombie girl.

… Well, Odysseus was Odysseus. And Mira was just Mira-Mira-Mira.

Zach downed the rest of his drink and tossed the paper cup in the trash. “Hold on a sec.”

Abelard watched Zach pull out his phone.

“Who are you calling?” Abelard asked.

Zach didn't answer. He leaned against the fridge and waited.

***

Tsukuyomi's moon was showering pale light upon a lake surrounded by freshly cut meadows. There were a dozen structures built up out of ivory Snow-Wood which absorbed the pure light as a shield.

Gentle notes filled the evening air as fingers strummed over a guitar. A voice lifted in the darkness of night to sing,

'Let moon come down...

Let shadows be gone...

Sins of the past now...

Please let them go on...

 

Sins of our FATHERS...

Passed not onto sons...

Winter's snow flurry...

Cover blood's red bloom...'

 

Something buzzed at his hip. He set down the ivory acoustic guitar with the black ivy engravings and answered.

“Zach! You're calling kind of late, is everything okay..?”

A dragonfly shot across the lake's surface, stopping when meeting a young damselfly.

“Of course we have open spots here. … Oh, of course. I'll be sure to get things ready for you guys tomorrow.”

A frog jumped into the lake, ripples growing outward from its entry.

“Sleep tight, Zach.”

***

The next morning, Abelard drove down the freeway out of CenterPointe. Zach was in the passenger seat, serving as a human GPS.

“You're going to want to get to the border limit of CenterPointe and ShimmerGale.

“Where are we going?” Heidi asked from where she sat in the back seat with her sisters. Constanz was busy floating, panting and looking at the passing cars and signs.

“Constanz, sit down.” Beatrisa tugged her sister down to the seat. Heidi asked again,

“Vati, where are we going?”

“Take a left here.” Zach told Abelard.

Abelard let out a confused growl until he cleared his throat and asked. “Can't we get there quicker with the 18?”

“You can't know if the toll-lock is going to be up today.” Zach explained, “Take a left.”

“Constanz~!” Beatrisa cried out again when Constanz began bouncing around the back seats.

Abelard wasn't convinced. “I should just chance it.”

“Abelard, no.” Zach said in that monotonous voice.

“Can I please know where we're going?” Heidi called out. Why wasn't anyone freaking out about this? What was going on?!

***

Abelard, against the intuitive bones in his body, followed Zach's directions and, seventeen minutes later, pulled into the parking lot of what had to be the nicest version of a campground full of cabins combined with simple classroom buildings.

Zach helped the girls out of the car. When Abelard locked up, he turned and asked, “Zachary, what is this place?”

“Fae Rock Boarding Academy.”

Abelard turned to see...

Oh boy, what was he seeing?

The young man was Zach's height, Zach's muscular build, the same age.

Even their hair was similar. This new young man's hair was a bit longer; black with bursts of white, falling into a low-sweeping pony-tail.

Despite how similar they were, the sole differentiating factor was the smile on the newcomer's face standing as a firm contrast to Zach's ever-neutral expression.

“Zach!” The new young man walked over to him with outstretched arms.

“Hey Eirwen.” Zach replied, hugging his friend back and clapping a hand to his back.

Eirwen pulled away to look up at Abelard, “It's a pleasure to meet you, Herr Baumgarten.”

Abelard was slightly taken aback. But not necessarily in a negative way. “Sprechen sie Deutsch?”

“Nur ein bisschen.” Eirwen chuckled, “I'm a penny in for quite a few languages.” It was then that Eirwen decided to address the three little ones.

“Guten morgen.” He smiled at them, noticing how the eldest was shielding her younger sisters with her body. “You must be Heidi, Beatrisa, and Constanz. I'm Eirwen. I just...” He tilted his head, offering a soft smile, “Wanted to welcome you guys to Fae Rock and show you around.”

Constanz broke away from Heidi's small anti-stranger blockade and floated up to Eirwen.

“Hello there.” Eirwen let the Bubble sniff at his chest and clothes.

Constanz sniffed and snuffed. Her flames surged up in a cloud of powder when she got to his shoulder. She growled up at Eirwen.

But, just as soon as she started growling, she stopped in favor of licking Eirwen's cheek with a warm, oily tongue. “Well, I hope that that means I've gotten your approval.”

“Well,” That was Beatrisa speaking up. She adjusted her glasses and opened her notebook, “According to my research, which is never wrong, this place is a private academy.”

“A boarding school?!” Heidi turned to her father, her voice alight in anger, “You're locking us up in a boarding school?!”

“Mein honigbiene, please...” Abelard knelt down to his youngest daughter, “I'm not 'locking you up' anywhere. This will be the best place for the three of you since I have to work.”

Heidi shook her head and shoved her hands against Abelard's chest. “I don't believe you!” As her voice grew angrier, Beatrisa and Constanz started to whimper and hide behind both Zach and Eirwen. The blue and green flames building in Heidi's mouth didn't help matters.

“Heidi...” Abelard growled down at his daughter, flames of the same color growing in his maw, “Sich benehmen...”

Heidi's flames surged up but they abruptly cut out. She turned and bolted into the forests surrounding Fae Rock, Eirwen shouting after her, “Heidi, wait! Please come back!”

Zach gave Beatrisa a soft pat on the head and walked over to Abelard. “You have a short thread with her.”

“I do not.” Abelard snapped but then caught himself. “I just want them to be safe and secure and happy but there she goes: having an attitude like she's my age-mate.”

“Herr Baumgarten?” Eirwen asked, Constanz resting upon his head: though whining all the while for her fleeing sister. “Did you tell them that you were thinking of bringing them here?”

“I...” Abelard spoke up. He stopped. “No.”

Eirwen picked up his guitar, “And did you tell them... Before you left them with their last guardian?”

Abelard sighed, rubbing the temples of his skull. “No... I did not.”

Eirwen sighed, Zach didn't emote at all, and Beatrisa walked over the soft grass to hug her father's knee. “Wir brauchten dich... Aber sie hat dich am meisten vermisst...”

Abelard heaved a heavy sigh and patted Beatrisa's head.

Watching father interact with child, Zach's face didn't change. He did, however, ask Eirwen, “Is this what it's like?”

“Huh?!” Eirwen jumped back a bit from Zach, jostling Constanz, “Is... Is what... Like what?”

“Having parents like this?”

“Heh... Heh heh! W-well,” Eirwen moved back from Zach a bit, not meeting his eyes as he sputtered and tripped over his words, “I mean, I-I-I have good parents! And! I'm! Sure! Your parents were! Great! Too! Ha! Heh!”

Eirwen concluded his panicked reassurances with a twitching smile that pulled tight at the corners.

Zach merely shrugged and turned away. “Maybe we should go after her?”

When Zach's back was turned, Eirwen slumped: the tension gone for a moment. “Maybe just leave her alone for a while? I'm sure that something will convince her to turn her thoughts on this place. Herr Baumgarten?” He waved over to Abelard, who walked over with Beatrisa still holding onto his leg. “Allow me to show you the rest of Fae Rock?”

“Ah, yes. Of course.” Abelard agreed, “Lead the way.”

Eirwen turned to start down the path that led towards the Faculty/Office Cabins. When he did, and when he was sure that Zach couldn't see him, he muttered:

 

“Damn it, Zach... Stop torturing me with the hard questions...”

***

Heidi panted, parting her ways through strangling bushes and low-hanging branches. Tears stung her eye-sockets by the time she reached a small pond: hidden away from common sight.

Tadpoles swished over the water's surface and dragonflies flitted to and fro. Heidi tied her skirt up around her thighs before she sat down upon the damp shore.

It was the only one she had now. She had to keep it wearable as long as possible.

“How can he do this to us again?” She muttered, wiping the tears from her skeletal face. “Leaving Koniglicher-Blitz... Stealing enough money for boat tickets...” She covered her eyes with her gloved hands, crying, “What was all of it for?!”

***

“Do you think I'm getting anything out of keeping you here?!” An old gargoyle spat out at Beatrisa, the young creature cowering in a corner: arms up to desperately keep more blows at bay.

“I'm sorry! I won't do it again!” Several shards of ceramic rested on the floor near her feet.

“DU KLEINE SCHLAMPE!” The gargoyle drew their hand back and struck it across Beatrisa's face: sending her to the floor.

The front-door of the cast-iron oven trembled as Constanz fought against her prison. Her shimmering fire could be seen through the grates.

The door swung inward as Heidi walked in: backpack heavy with potatoes and onions. “I'm ba – BEATRISA!” She dropped the backpack to th efloor, the vegetables going everywhere.

Heidi shoved the gargoyle, Klausine, out of the way and brought her little sister into her arms. “Beatrisa, are you okay?”

“I...” Beatrisa dug her fingers into Heidi's shirt, her voice a whisper, “I broke a plate.”

“Ach, look at this!!”

Heidi watched Klausine walk over to the fallen vegetables. “Miserable girl! Did you even try to trade with anyone?!”

“Stop hurting my sisters!” Heidi shouted, those blue and green flames rolling in her mouth.

Klausine could only scoff. “Or what? You'll call your Vati on me? Like the child you are?” They picked the vegetables up and set them upon an old wooden table. “If you don't like the way I raise you, you are free to take your chances out the with The Guilt.”

Beatrisa's eyes went as wide as saucers. Heidi flinched but kept her ground. “The Guilt is a myth.”

“Ha!” Klausine spat out, “'A myth', she says. What would a child know? You weren't there! The only reason I tolerate the three of you is because of your father's barrier against The Guilt. Don't forget that this land is far crueler at night than I could ever be during the day. Now! Get her up and fix dinner! Schnell!”

***

Heidi set her head upon her knees. Klausine had been like that for the past few years.

Something crawled through the bushes around her.

How could she just sit and watch her sisters be put through that?

The sound of wind-chimes trickled in the air.

How could her father want to dump them somewhere else? After what they had been throu--

Heidi screamed when something tackled her. They rolled over the damp grass until Heidi felt her back against the ground. “Who--?!”

Something was sniffing at her: her blouse, her legs, all over.

A head full of messy auburn hair popped up and barked, “You're new!”

“Get off of me!” Heidi shouted.

***

“This is just an example of one of our classrooms.” Eirwen led Abelard and Zach into one of the cabins. True to words, there was a massive whiteboard in the front of the room, several computers, two smaller mobile whiteboards, and toys and books strewn about. “We always have three or more teachers per class.” Eirwen explained, “To make sure that each student gets the hand on attention that they need to succeed.”

“Is it separated by age or by level?” Abelard asked, though he would have to admit: between the pristine state of the grounds and the other facilities, he was very much feeling this place for all of its positives.

“Either-or, depending on the student.” Eirwen said, keeping an eye on Zach.

Zach who, after spinning the ebony globe on one of the tables, asked Abelard, “What do you think?”

“I think...” Abelard began, watching Beatrisa immediately go to the sizeable bookshelf and Constanz begin hopping on the mini bean-bag chair, “I need to run this by Heidi. We should go after her now.”

“Trust me, Herr Baumgarten.” Eirwen did his best attempt at reassurance again, “Heidi is fine. If anything,” He rested a hand under his chin, “I hope the others aren't overwhelming her in trying to be friendly.”

***

“You're totes scaring her!”

“You're totes scaring her!”A pair of sparkling hands dragged the wolf-girl off of Heidi, who immediately unwound her skirt and attempt to run away.

She was stopped by what appeared to be a young deer... reindeer... With cinnamon-red horns. “Hey, calm down! You're going to hurt yourself or slip or something.”

Heidi shook her head, bolting away. She inevitably bumped into something dark and leathery.

“Looks like I caught her!” Heidi pulled her head back and away from black fur, seeing a preteen-sized death-bat with glasses. “Hey!” He smiled, fangs wet with saliva.

“Nein!” Heidi shoved the death-bat away and screwed her eyes shut. She just needed to get away from strange humans, strange kids, and get back to her father to get things settled but good.

Her shoe caught on a branch and she screamed as she was about to meet a cracking finale...

Though she never met the ground. Something held her from the back of her shirt. It stood her right-side up and waited for her to regain her bearings.

Heidi turned around, looking wide-eyed at the creature: swirls of ink and coal dust forming a body hidden under a simple white sheet. The only part of them that was visible was his two spindly thin legs and his simple yet expressive eyes.

He looked at Heidi.

Heidi looked at him.

He bounded away and took his place amongst the group. He turned to the wolf-girl and said, voice quiet and low,

“You scared her.”

“I didn't mean it!” The wolf-girl pouted, being very much a girl with wolf-ears, a wolf-tail, and fur covering her forearms, her chest up to her stomach, her waist down to her thighs, and her calves down to her clawed feet. She wagged her tail and whined, “She looked so sad sitting there by herself!”

“Well now our pearly-white perfect introductions are ruined!”

“Well now our pearly-white perfect introductions are ruined!”The comment was said in stereo by two young tooth-fairies. Both boys, both identical: bodies shining white with minty green sparkles on their cheeks and hands, their hair formed like perfect swirls of toothpaste and their curved wings gossamer against the light even as they held them afloat.

The deer-reindeer-deer and the death-bat came closer, the latter apologizing, “We weren't trying to scare you.” He adjusted his glasses, “We wanted to welcome you!”

“Well, I'm not staying.” Heidi turned away from all of them, glaring at a patch in the grass between glances back at the creature in the sheet.

“But you have to stay!” The wolf-girl rushed over, tail wagging as she begged, “If you don't, the only girls my age are gonna be Masumi and Klickshe!”

“You're scaring her again.” The creature in the sheet whispered, the wolf-girl whining: ears dropping with the sound.

Heidi turned back around, snapping at the group, “Aren't you guys mad at your parents for leaving you here?!”

The other kids looked at one another before all replying:

“Not really.”

“I made tons of friends here!”

“The teachers are really nice. Especially Mr. Eirwen!”

“We get to play as much as we want!”

“The food's really yummy!”

“They even let us earn money by doing chores if we want.”

“They even let us earn money by doing chores if we want.”

“And our parents visit all the time!”

That last bit got Heidi's attention.

“All... the time?” She asked, the creature in the sheet nodding.

“Anytime they can. Anytime they want.”

The forest shook and the large head of a Giant peeked over the trees. “I-is it ok-k-k-kay to come out n-n-now?” The poor large boy asked.

***

Eirwen had to run and check on something in the dining cabin real quick, so he had put Zach and Abelard in the capable hands of one of the other young teachers: a sprite with low red skin and light blue hair.

“And here's...” She stated, handing Abelard a thick manila folder, “The paperwork and tuition guidelines.”

“Right to the matter of money.” Abelard chuckled, opening the folder. His eyes bulged out of his skull, “Nostradamasen Hoden!!” He quickly attempted to save face, coughing, “Is that... for all three of my girls?”

The Sprite offered a soda with a nod. “We cover year-round room, board, food, field-trips, and education. Not to mention our top-rate security. It's actually fairly reasonable compared to, say, some of the private schools in Ignis Fanis.”

Be that as it was, the numbers on the form still made Abelard wince.

“He can pay monthly, right?” Zach asked, the Sprite humming,

“Well...”

“Of course!” Eirwen said, appearing in the room before anyone could catch him. “In fact...” He walked over to the desk and took the folder.

“Eirwen,” The Sprite asked, “What are you--”

“It's fine, Rhubarbara...” Eirwen eased her concerns down in a shaky voice. He kept writing: adding here, subtracted there.

“Here.” Eirwen offered the folder back to Abelard. Abelard read the folder again and couldn't believe his luck.

“This is incredible! What did you change?”

Eirwen shook his head, “Anyone coming to Dama Fristad for a safe, new beginning deserves a fair chance. Let's just... look at it as a trial run until you all get really settled into the city.”

Zach looked out the window, wanting to keep an eye on Beatrisa and Constanz while their father talked to the Fae Rock staff.

“Heidi's back.” He said, after a moment. He stood to his feet and walked outside, Eirwen and Abelard quickly following.

The three adults stayed near the cabin and watched all the children laugh and run about.

Beatrisa was trying to sketch the deer-reindeer-deer in her notebook, Constanz was catching marshmallows tossed into the air by a moon-white rabbit with horns, and Heidi had the creature in the sheet on one side while a young Kobold admired her skirt.

“You sewed this yourself?” The Kobold asked, her wide eyes framed by thick eyelashes.

Heidi nodded, “Yeah, but it's nothing special.”

“Don't talk yourself down.” The creature in the sheet muttered.

Heidi looked at him but ended up seeing Abelard in the corner of her eye.

Constanz did that little bark/little hiss and floated over. Beatrisa quickly followed, Heidi bringing up the rear.

Abelard knelt down to better hug his daughters. “Mein honigbienen... I am so sorry for just leaving you. I thought my barrier would keep you all safe from Die Schuld.”

Beatrisa and Constanz didn't say anything. They looked to Heidi, who said, “It's okay, Vati.”

Abelard shook his head, “Nein, I should have asked you how you felt. Listen to me. Gut zuhoren.” When he felt that their attention was upon him, Abelard continued, “Dama Fristad is a place of peace. But there are still dangers hidden away in the poison of the shadows.” He tugged Beatrisa's headscarf into place. “But Fae Rock will be safe for you. And we will no longer be seperated by an ocean and six borders.” He wiped some marshmallow off of Constanz's teeth. “Is this a place that the three of you would like to stay?”

The question was meant for all three of them, but punctuated at Heidi. She thought on it. Thought, hummed, and wondered.

She glanced back at the other students, especially the creature in the sheet.

Heidi turned back and, after a deep breath...

She nodded. “And you'd better visit us!”

“But of course!” Abelard kissed the foreheads of each of the three, letting them go back to what they were doing.

“You're staying?!” The wolf-girl jumped up with a joyous howl, the twin tooth-fairies cheering,

“That's perfectly pearly!”

“That's perfectly pearly!”

Abelard watched his daughters joyously join the junior jamboree before looking to Zach and Eirwen.

“Thank you.”

“I can't have you stressing while you're at work.” Zach offered, even as a desert road.

Eirwen bowed a bit, smiling, “Having your daughters here will be such a del--”

“Hold on, young one.”

Eirwen clapped his mouth shut.

Abelard gently moved the two humans so that they were standing next to each other on even ground.

It really was almost exact. There was a bit more of a point to smoothness to Eirwen's eyes and his chin, but other than that and the hair colors, they really were almost exact.

“You two...” Abelard lifted an eyebrow, “Are brothers, right?”

Zach's face beheld no emotion, but Eirwen started shaking up a storm. “What?!” He sputtered, eyes wide and twitching, “Us?! B-brothers?! N-no! Herr Baumgarten, you're so crazy! Z-Zach's one of a kind! A league all on his own!!”

Zach popped a hand on top of Eirwen's head, smoothing down his frizzing hair. “We've known each other since we were kids.” Zach explained, deadpan, “Me, him, Faaria, and Rory.”

Abelard looked at the two of them, staying a bit longer on Eirwen's dying tremors.

“If... you two say so.” He looked back at his girls, already planning on what to bring the next time he visited Fae Rock.

 

“If you say so.”  

26: A Day in the Life of Rory Fontaine

BUZZ!

   BUZZ!

      BUZZZZ!!

A radio spits out some awful static before it crackles to life.

“Herro... Dama Fristad!” A voice with an obvious accent exclaimed out from the speakers. “It's time for your Morning Report with Fa Jiang --”

“And Tchaikovsky!” A deeper voice rumbled through the speaker. “We are having plenty of amazing tracks to get you started on your commute.”

“But first!” Fa Jiang piped up, “Time for some rocal gossip!”

A pair of purple oven mitts slid over a waiting pair of hands. The large oven with the black front plating and the crown of cast-iron burners yawned when its door was opened.

“Easy, now...” A long sheet pan was gently tugged out. Resting upon it, chocolate chips and toffee still bubbling hot, were rows upon rows of freshly baked cookies.

Rory Fontaine, dark hair tied pinned up and out of his face, smiled down at the tray of sweets. “Perfect.”

“Oh?” The two DJs on the radio kept up their conversation, Tchaikovsky adding, “Please to be telling.”

“Word on the stleet,” The squeaking of wheels before Fa Jiang continued, “Is that Trillium the Fair, with his Sun-Kissed hair, is already planning for this year's Fall Equinox Festival.”

“Fall Equinox?” Tchaikovsky asked, “Oh, that will be a perfect time to be changing my fashion!”

“Fashion?” Fa Jiang jumped in, “What are you going on about?”

“Here it comes...” Rory hummed, wrapping three cookies in cellophane wrapping, wrapping the opening tight in purple ribbon.

“I am thinking of getting a new...” Tchaikovsky waited a second. “Har-Vest!”

A chorus of hisses shook the speakers. “Cao ni zuzong shiba dai!!” Fa Jiang shrieked, “I can not stand those puns of yours! We're taking a break with the latest single by Gruaidh and Tavern Bounds! And then we will be back with the weathe – What are you doing now?!”

“What?” Tchaikovsky replied, “I was thinking that you said 'feather'.”

Fa Jiang's screams were cut off in favor of music. Rory unpinned his hair, the sweeping curls bouncing before settling. With nothing but a grunt he kicked an entire tote of wrapped cookies towards the dumbwaiter on the kitchen wall. “Down we go.” Rory flipped the switch, the tote slowly sinking down to the floor below his home: the bookstore that was his sole responsibility here in Dama Fristad.

But! With the cookies done, he would need to stop by the Shooting Star Bazaar the next time it opened, he could grab a quick shower before heading downstairs.

Hot showers were things of absolute beauty. The warmth that rolls down your body, leeching out the weariness and aches. A brief piece of solitude to slot into the upcoming day's puzzle.

“Now, come along lads!

Gunna take you for a ride!

Grab ya girls and cup your gnads!

Let's get a crack on

Delira and excira 'til dawn!”

Rory forced the shower door open. He scarcely remembered a towel in his haste. Steam plumed up from his skin. A lack of clear sight caused his face to scrunch down at the screen before he quickly answered.

“Oh, hi mum!” Rory's voice could be heard from the other room. “How is everyo...”

The last of the shower water swirled down the drain. “I see. Dad is back to it again, I suppose?”

A towel was tossed into a wicker hamper.

“Right, right... Okay. I'll... I'll send something over first thing tomorrow morning. Hugs all aro--”

Rory, naught upon him but a towel over his shoulders, sighed when his mother cut the conversation to a quick end.

“Right then.” Rory shook his head, water leaving his hair in thick drops before the locks sprung up in sweeping curls.

***

His arms were already laden down with his traveling basket and a smaller tote of cookies. Rory stretched a finger out, scarcely tapping his front door. It was just enough for the minute spirals of magic infused into the wood to spring into action. The lock tumbled into place and Rory turned away, inspecting his basket's contents as much as he was able. A thermos nestled against two covered plastic bowls.

Lunch. And, if he didn't have time to come back home, Dinner as well. Rory made his way down the fire-escape in a gentle stroll.

He stopped, wide eyes looking up towards the Dama Fristad skyline from behind wide glass frames. “Beautiful weather today – Oh!” A rush of freezing air, contrasting against the emblazoned passions of summer, made him secure his hold the basket and the tote.

Rory took ginger steps down the rest of the fire-escape. His gait only returned to its normal balance of speed and distance when he got to the base of the fire-escape. Yet even that was kept slow when he saw what awaited him below.

“Is that...” Rory approached the frigid keepsake. Like the most delicate spun-glass a master could summon up from the sands, a swan was crafted out of the glass-like ice.

Rory took it in his hands. He probably had a good few minutes before it froze his fingertips. In his power-walk towards his storefront, his ears just caught the sound of small footsteps running away: a gale of wind following them.

***

Pecan Pavilion had a swarm of customers, human and otherwise, as soon as Rory had flipped the lights on. The business flow was nice; it kept Rory busy and his mind off of... things. And there was never a static moment.

 

“Surely you can take an even 12?” Said the Camazotz who clearly thought he was more than he was.

Rory gave the death-bat a steady smile. “I'm sorry, but no. If you'd like, I can hold it until tomorrow when you have enough.”

The Camazotz rolled his eyes. “You know, most humans would just give me the damn book and be done with it.”

Rory kept his smile sure and gentle. “I suppose. But... I already let you have those last three books on credit. And... You haven't been able to pay me yet.”

The Camazotz gave a shrug. “Fine. Whatever. Guess I'll be back tomorrow.” He didn't turn away without grabbing a small package of Rory's cookies. “It's the least you can do, right?”

Rory could only sigh, beginning to ring up another customer. “Of course.”

***

A cyclops, her eye glaring the several feet down to Rory's level, bared her jagged teeth and snarled, “I'm looking for a book.”

“Oh! Yes!” Rory nodded. He grabbed the rolling ladder behind him and asked the cyclops, “I'll be glad to help. What kind of book was--”

“I want a book without pages.” The cyclops growled up.

Rory nodded. “Yes, yes! A book without...” He stopped mid upward step. “I'm... terribly sorry, my hearing blanks on me sometimes. Did you say 'a book without pages'?”

“DID I FUCKING STUTTER?!” The cyclops growled, eye narrowing.

Rory turned back around. “No, no. I'd tally that you didn't.” Rory hopped off of the ladder and walked to the safe behind the counter.

“Where the hell are you going?! What about my book?!”

Round this time, the other customers were starting to roll their eyes and smother scoffs behind their hands.

Rory took the snaps and growls of the cyclops in slow stride. As long as she liked the tablet he was trying to find, that would be all that mattered.

***

“Is my order here?”

Rory looked upon the frazzled woman who approached the counter with a platoon of insectoid toddlers in tow. They ran to every corner of the store and tore anything down they could reach.

Rory flinched as a tower of beginner-level books went toppling down. “I'll go check on that for you.” He offered, smile stable and kind.

Rory took two steps to the stockroom, sighing as more crashes brought screams along with them.

“Mama! Watch this!”

“Look, Mama!”

“I'm hungry~!”

“Mama~! She pushed me~!”

“WOULD ALL OF YOU SHUT UP?!”

Rory fumbled the box in his hands. Before he could catch up to what happened, he broke the box's fall with his foot. Even if it throbbed for the rest of the day, he could soldier through it.

As long as it kept someone happy.

***

Rory placed several mixology books in a bag along with two packages of his cookies. “Was there anything else I can do for you?” He took his hands away from the bag. Slick, winding tendrils of wriggling ink twisted around his wrists.

“How about your phone-number?” The Nightmare whispered, his words echoing through Pecan Pavilion.

Rory kept a stiff upper-lip. “I'm terribly sorry...” He gave a futile tug. “I have to tend to the rest of the customers before I close up.”

“Pretty little tease.” The Nightmare chuckled, thick drops of bitter ink dripping from his gaping maw, “With how often I spend my evenings in your company, we should just make things official. Don't you think?”

Rory pulled at his arms. It was as if his wrists were trapped in cement. His chest constricted. His pulse tried to pick up to catch his breath. “If... there isn't anything else I can do for you...”

“Hey!” A Tah-Tah-Kle'-ah squawked out, “What's the hold up?”

“Some of us have to catch the train, you know!” A possessed suit of armor chimed in. They looked at their phone, groaning, “Oh, my honey-bun is going to be absolutely incensed if I don't get this Alchemy book back to her in time!”

The Nightmare growled in the direction of the dissenters. He retrieved his tendrils, gleaning down at the gentle human. “I'll be seeing you soon. Rory...”

The Nightmare jumped into the air and disappeared into the floor.

When the Nightmare was gone, Rory rubbed some of the soreness out of one of his wrists. “R-right then.” He waved his hand, “Next customer please!”

***

Rory decided to close up shop around three. It had been a busy day and he had some deliveries to make. Admittedly a few of them had been last-minute requests.

Ten-minutes-before-closing requests.

But. It was okay! Rory was in tip-top shape and ready to go! He flipped the 'Open' sign over to its 'Closed' side and checked his saddlebag. He still had his lunch and his thermos as well as the books that he needed to deliver. “Three stops.” Rory told himself. “City Hall. Rachum Tower. Toxic Love Well.”

His feet had carried him on the practiced path to the Trolley stop as he went over his itinerary. He stepped over a puddle, a discarded piece of cardboard coming along and stopping him from making a splash and messing up his jeans.

An indignant, ragged shout had Rory nearly dropping his bag. He whipped around for the source, seeing a troll swinging a broom at three birds who were frolicking and feasting upon the baskets of bread that were presumably for sale.

“You little bastards!” The troll swung, the birds fluttering up and merely floating back down between swings. “I didn't leave the bridge underside to have my money eaten by you little bastards!”

Rory watched the troll swing and hiss and bite. He walked over. “Excuse me? Sir, I...” The birds, beaks full of dry crust and sweet crumbs, looked up when Rory got closer. They flapped their wings in a rush, swooping over to Rory and landing on his shoulders and hair. “Oh!” Rory chuckled, lips curving up in a warm smile, “Why, hello there.” He chuckled again when one of the birds nuzzled their cheek up against him.

The troll gruffed, wiping down the sweat that had built upon his brow. “You want 'em? Take 'em. Just keep them away from my fucking booth!”

Rory's hand went up before his mouth could wrap around the words he needed. Yet, climbing to the peak of that, the raucous clank of bone-on-brass kicked along the road. Rory turned to see the RBTrolley rolling down the street. “Oh.” Rory jogged after it.

He came back to help the troll with one of his baskets that the birds had knocked to the ground. “You have a good day now!” Rory jogged back to his marked path. The troll shook his head. He wasn't even upset, at least the kid had taken the birds with him.

Rory hopped onto the back of the RBTrolley. One arm held on with a sure grip, the other flashed the Trolley guard his Commute Pass. The guard, a Nue, relaxed his features when he saw that Rory had a pass. The Nue's serpent tail flicked a tongue at his primate face.

The skeletal trolley clacked down the road and Rory, against his confidence, double-checked the contents of his bag. He readjusted his food and tugged down the protective coating over the books. The rushing air made his hair dance like summer reeds, though his curls held fast against the breeze and the steam of the trolley.

A limo rolled up next to the trolley and, though minding his own business would have only taken so much, Rory watched the sleek vehicle glide by. “My...” He whistled, following it as it passed. “Hope you have a good trip!” He waved. Flames surged up behind him. Rory pulled his arm back to his chest. He braced himself as a Wanyudo passed, the wheel-shaped body covered in flames was quickly succeeded by two fiery dragons.

The Trolley slowed to a crawling pace when it approached the next stop. The three girls with a crystal ball, a beaker, and a rose for heads hopped on. They sat down, the rose-head and the beaker-head getting close to the crystal ball-head so they could get a good look at her CrystalCaller.

The device was a melding of magic and technology: an alchemical piece that bore a smooth face like a mirror and a clear back of crystal. While you still needed a phone for more reliable communication, the CrystalCallers were a must for playing the latest songs, listening to radio announcements, and browsing the DFSI.

Any young adult in Dama Fristad who was anybody had one.

The three object-headed girls laughed and shrieked, the idol group of their desires displayed on the CrystalCaller.

Rory shook his head with a smile. It seemed only yesterday that that was him, Zach, and Eirwen.

Though Zach never displayed such emotions easily.

Or at all.

***

Rory ducked down, covering his head with his arms. The large form of a Stymphalian Bird swooped through the air of Dama Fristad City Hall. “Sorry...” He whimpered, though the bird had already gone on its way. Rory stood up straight and adjusted his hold on his bag.

“Rory? Is that you?”

“Faaria!” Rory turned towards the familiar voice, seeing the well-rounded woman. “Your hijab is really nice today.”

“This old thing?” Faaria tugged a fold of the pearl pink fabric into place. “You flatter me, boy. Anyway, I see you're out delivering books again.” She gave Rory a bump of her hip, laughing when he waved his hands about to frantically retrieve his balance. “You should look into having someone handle deliveries for you.”

“Oh, I wouldn't want to bother anyone with that...” Rory sighed, “Oh, hey. Do you know where I should drop this delivery? I didn't get the exact name for the customer.” He chuckled though he could tell that Faaria was building up the ingredients for a tirade.

However, she only sighed. “Rory, you are far too trusting. What's going to happen if you go and get yourself in trouble, ah?”

“I know...” Rory relented, “I just had a busy mo--”

Grrrmmm...

Rory looked down to his stomach. Faaria followed his line of sight. “Hm. Forgot lunch?”

“And breakfast...” Rory added in a short exhale.

Faaria planted her hands upon her hips, tapping a shoe to the floor. “Alright.” She folded her arms. “This is what we are going to do. You are going to sit here and eat something while I go and find whoever it is who ordered books from a self-preservation-lacking cutie.”

Rory's eyes went wide and he shook his head, “But I should really --”

“No..!” Faaria met him half-step and pushed him down onto a bench. “Sit here. I will be right back.”

Rory watched Faaria pull a phone out of her pocket. A tap of a screen and she was talking away. “Hey! Where are you right now? Actually, don't even answer that. I need you to...”

She was halfway across City Hall when Rory shook his head. Well... she had told him to wait. And Faaria knew almost everyone in City Hall. If anyone could find his mystery purchaser, it had to be her.

Rory set the needed packages next to him on the bench and brought out his thermos. The flurry of footfalls, paw-presses, and talon-ticking came together in one great hum of noise.

Rory took a sip and looked around. “And I thought the Pavilion was busy...” He didn't know how Faaria did it. Though she was definitely one of the more talkative members of their group of friends.

Just when he was thinking about checking in on Zach later, that all-too familiar flutter of purple caught his eyes.

“O-oh.” Despite himself, Rory found himself looking away from the plum and amethyst hues with a soft dusting of pink upon his cheeks. “Hello there.” He took another sip from his thermos. “I'm sorry that you don't have someone to wear you yet.”

Of course, dresses didn't speak.

Even if they could, how would one hear too-soft words across a bustling building full of humans and nonhumans? Rory took another drink from his thermos. Perhaps he should actually eat something so Faaria wouldn't chew him out. Rory had a fingertip rat-a-tat-tatting on the lid of his thermos. He turned around and, well, he didn't recall putting anything in his basket that would make it shake. Rory flipped the lid of the basket open. His eyes were forced to watch a fuzzy butt wriggling in the air; a matching tail lashing too and fro. Rory pursed his lips once the ravenous chewing began. “Hey.”

The small creature, a goblin, peeked out of the basket. It glared its beady red eyes up at Rory, its hiss sending spittle everywhere.

“Hey now.” Rory didn't wait twice. He picked the growling little hell-spawn by the scruff of its neck and set it on the empty spot of the bench.

The goblin hissed and growled and probably called Rory's mother a whore in a tongue that was just out of human grasp. Yet, even with all of that, Rory didn't shout at it or try smacking it away. He merely reached into the basket and grabbed the plastic container that now hosted a dozen claw and tooth marks. “It's not everyday that I find someone who can appreciate a good Colcannon.”

The goblin leapt back, baring its teeth in the midst of a loathsome face. Rory merely set the plate down in front of the small creature. It looked upon the savory medley of fried cabbage, aromatic scallions, sweet cream, salted butter, and mashed potatoes before looking back to Rory.

“Go on.” Rory laughed when the goblin literally jumped in. The sounds it made, gulping and nearly choking as it shoveled food into its mouth, were admittedly gross. But if Rory had food to share, he would. It wasn't like he didn't have another plate of food waiting in the basket or anything.

***

Faaria was tugging along an old Pixiu, the winged-lion not looking to enthused as she narrowed her already almondine eyes. “Why couldn't this human bring my books to me rather than having me hunting him down?”

“As if he would have been able to find you on the roof!” Faaria pushed the Pixiu until she could see regained her bearings. “Rory! I found your custo – By Allah!”

Rory could only give a calm smile. A dozen goblins were climbing all over him, eating out of both his containers of food. Though anything resembling 'food' was fast diminishing.

“Rory!” Faaria shouted, “You don't need to allow that!”

“But...” Rory watched the first goblin crawl into his lap. It patted its round stomach and stretched out, its tail curling, until he went to sleep. “They were hungry.” He added, gently scratching behind the goblin's tiny ears.

***

The next stop of the day was the quietest of the three and it was a welcome shift from the hustle-bustle bump-and-grind of City Hall. Rory hopped off of the RBTrolley, gathering his belongings close to himself. El Doradus, the district of Dragons that was oft hidden in the clouds above Dama Fristad. It was open, primarily, to dragons and the children of Abraham. However, matters of deliveries could be handled at Rachum Tower.

The Rachum Tower was carved from bronze: reaching up to the clouds above, gnarling and mighty. While most dragons were born with wings, dragons of the sea and others could climb up the tower to the gilded haven above.

Of course, a direct loop to the home of dragons had to be guarded from those who would attack the draconian, Hebrew population.

“Hello Solomon.” Rory called up to that guard. Solomon was a Golem. The very same Golem who had been hewn from the earth to protect the Jewish population of Prague so very long ago. The birds, who had held fast onto Rory this whole time, fluttered over to roost upon the Golem's shoulders and carved hair.

The Golem loomed over Rory, several feet higher and with his as impassive as the clay he was sculpted from.

“Oh, r-right.” Rory brought out the needed package, “Someone in El Doradus ordered these. Could you please make sure that they get to them?”

Solomon was quiet. Yet, after the birds got comfortable, Rory was gifted with the sound of stone rubbing against stone as Solomon reached for the books. He plucked them out of Rory's hands, his fingers alone dwarfing the young man's arms, and opened a cavity at the tower's base. In went the books, the cavity was shut, and Rory could feel boughs of titanic cogs and gears rumbling underneath human, Golem, and tower. “Well...” Rory cleared his throat, “They paid in advance. I should probably get going. Oh!”

Solomon watched Rory set a box of cookies in one of Solomon's hands. “I hope you like them. Kosher, as always.”

Rory jogged away, as the RBTrolley never waited for anyone. Solomon watched the human hop onto the approaching trolley. Solomon walked back to his post, cookies in his hand. He followed the train until it was out of sight, not out of mind, before looking down at the box.

“An amethyst Heart.”

***

“Five minutes to Miasmus. Please put on your Filtering Masks or arm your Purification Charms now. If you have neither, please vacate the trolley at the next stop.”

Rory had begun digging through his bag at 'Miasmus'. He pulled out a sturdy gas-mask and quickly mounted it upon his face. A flick of a small switch just under the strap and he was able to spend the rest of the ride confident in the air he breathed.

He watched a few passengers disembark. Out of having reached their locations or the end of their personal lines, Rory didn't know.

The trolley chugged along. The trolley pierced through the foul-smelling boundary outside, sending a tingling crawling over Rory's skin.

The trolley continued for a while more. It rattled to a stop, finally, in front of a train station sculpted up from the ground in congealed oil covering the hardened secretions of a thousand snails.

“End of the Line!” The skeleton conductor rattled out, “Ludovico Station, Miasmus!”

***

On the sixth avenue of Miasmus's Hemlock block, there was a well. This well, simple assuming structure of bricks and stone, bored deep into the earth.

If one needed a mask or any means of protection from the worst of Miasmus's corruption, they would need it near this well. This well that expelled sulfurous odors and patchouli perfumes.

Rory walked up the the toxic well. He took the basket that was resting by the well's rim and set his last package inside of it. He gently pushed it off into the beginning of darkness. He grabbed the sticky rope and slowly, slowly lowered the bucket down, down.

He wished he could have seen the face of this customer, who ordered so many of his books about the world beyond... The world before. Everything.

Something seized the bucket, the rope going taught for a brief moment. The moment it relaxed, Rory pulled the bucket back. Gone was the package, replaced by a few monetary notes and coins covered in grime.

***

Ra was busy glaring down Tsukuyomi, both insisting on separate matters of the time. Rory knew what time it was, though. “Time for these tired bones...” He chuckled to himself, soft bags forming underneath his eyes. “To get some rest.”

Dama Fristad was a wonderful city and he wouldn't trade it for the world. But traveling all over was still tiring and ate up the whole day. He just wanted to get to bed so he could rest up for tomorrow's money transfer.

The fire-escape was cold.

Rory's eyes snapped open. He had a guest. A familiar one at that.

They were so young. They couldn't be older than ten or eleven. Their hair was fraying short, curving in towards his frosty cheeks. The clothing he wore could barely be called that: a simple shirt, tattered pants, and a cloak full of holes.

The child was surrounded by frost and mist. Wherever he touched the ground or the steps leading to Rory's door was frozen over.

Rory was shocked or dismayed.

He straightened himself up, put on a stiff upper-lip, and stepped forward. “Hello there.” The child looked up at Rory, a slight warmth in his eyes. “I was hoping that I'd see you today.”

***

The frost-covered child sat on Rory's stuffed couch. He was helping himself to some of the leftover cookies while Rory worked in the kitchen.

“Don't eat too many, now!” Rory gently called over, “You need to have room for dinner. Don't worry, though. I'll pack some of those up for you.”

The child didn't respond aside from wrapping his scarf around himself a bit tighter.

Rory sighed. His hands sprinkled some freshly ground pepper to the soup on the stove: the rustic smell of chicken sausage and red potatoes bubbled up to the ceiling to dance with rosemary and thyme. Rory covered the pot to let the soup simmer. Just enough time to text someone. Who though?

27: Kind Heart, Shining Heart

R. Fontaine - Hey, Are you free to talk?

Eirwen Leadhooves - Oh, hey! Yeah, let me just

Eirwen Leadhooves - Put these papers away...

Eirwen Leadhooves - What's up?

R. Fontaine - ...

R. Fontaine - How were the kids today?

Eirwen Leadhooves - Perfect as always! Well... Little Constanz puked on me

Eirwen Leadhooves - But that's what happens when you work with kids, ha

R. Fontaine - Mm-hm. 

Eirwen Leadhooves - You okay?

R. Fontaine - Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired.

Eirwen Leadhooves - Well, don't let me keep you up --

R. Fontaine - Constanz? Are they new?

Eirwen Leadhooves - You just sa--

Eirwen Leadhooves - Mm.

Eirwen Leadhooves - Yeah. Zach actually brought her father and her siblings here

Eirwen Leadhooves - To enroll. Cute family. Zach REALLY wants to bang their dad.

R. Fontaine - How can you TELL?!

Eirwen Leadhooves - I just...

Eirwen Leadhooves - Can

R. Fontaine - ...

R. Fontaine - I'll never understand how you're so good at reading him.

Eirwen Leadhooves - HA HA

Eirwen Leadhooves - HA HA HA

Eirwen Leadhooves - IS IT THAT LATE ALREADY?!

Eirwen Leadhooves - I SHOULD GO CHECK ON THE KIDS!!

Eirwen Leadhooves - CATCH YA LATER RORY!!

Rory puffed his cheeks up. Tossing his phone on the counter. Eirwen always got so weird at the most random moments. But now what? Rory didn't want to bother Zach, not with all of the stress managing several supernatural tenants entailed.

He shook his head and turned off the heat. “Dinner's ready!”

He plucked two bowls from the pantry and two spoons from the drawer while he could hear one of the tables scratching against the floor.

The wash of sudden cold over his face was a welcome respite away from his burning labors. Even if it caused his glasses to fog with condensation. Rory dipped a ladle into the rich broth, catching plenty of the steaming sausage and vegetables, and poured it out into the child's bowl.

“Wait so you don't burn yourself.” Rory warned, the child pouting and blowing over the soup. Immediately it evened out to room temperature and he began to eat.

Sat down and picked up his own spoon, waiting for the soup to cool. Not everyone had ice powers. The little one was eating fairly fast. Rory sighed.

Why?

Why did he...

“You know that,” Rory said, setting his spoon beside his own bowl, “You don't have to leave.”

The child continued on with his food.

“I may not have much. But what I do have I'm more than willing to share with you. So, please... Don't feel like you have to go out there. That you have to struggle on your own.”

Much to Rory's dismay, however, the child pushed forward an empty bowl and hopped down from his chair. He watched him climb onto the couch and lay down: belly full and warm against the permafrost that was his being.

Rory looked down at his soup. Why was he like this? 'Why can't I help people where it really matters?'

He decided to finish his food later. Right then, he needed to make the couch more comfortable. “Blankets and pillows.”

Squeak-eak!

“Hey!” Rory knelt down to see the family of mice who lived in the walls of his house. “How are you guys doing? Did you get the crackers to go along with the cheese yesterday?”

The mice squeaked and nodded before a slew of them rushed off somewhere. They eventually returned, carrying a blanket and a pillow. “You guys didn't have to do that.” Rory grinned, “But I'm thankful. Here, let me take those and I'll get you guys some soup.”

***

The mice had been fed and they even helped to clean the kitchen so Rory could make sure the frigid child was comfortably sleeping in his bed.

“If you need anything, anything at all,” Rory told him, brushing the cool strands out of his eyes, “I'll be just down the hall. Good night.”

Rory walked down the hall towards the main room and the made-up couch. The cushions weren't so bad, really. And he would be close to the kitchen for his morning baking. Maybe this would even convince the child to stay.

“Eirwen is so good with words.” He muttered, setting his glasses on the dining table and rolling over. “When he isn't being weird. Faaria's energetic and approachable. And Zach is blunt and forward.” Rory pulled the blanket up to his chest, relaxing into the pillow as much as he was able. “When am I going to be someone... who can really help people?”

***

Snowflakes landed upon the child's lashes. They shattered when he roused from slumber. He sat up, looking around the room and its icy facets.

It was happening again.

He jumped down from the bed and walked into the main room, tendrils of inky darkness already leeching into the carpeting and the walls.

“Nngh...”

He quickened his pace.

“Such a lovely mind... and a heart of amethyst...”

How was he still at it? Didn't he learn from the first dozen 'no's?

The snowy child crept into the main room, peeking from behind the bookcase. Rory was writhing in bed, digging his fingers into the blanket. Sweat beaded down his brow in a steady cascade. His voice was cut to pained groans and whimpers. All because of the lecherous Nightmare corrupting his slumbering visions.

The snowy child held out their palm, ice and frost swirling together into a sizable ball.

“You make for the sweetest nightma-- GAH!” The Nightmare coughed and sputtered as the chill of fresh ice rolled down his form. “Who dares to – ACK!”

The child pelted the Nightmare with another snowball. And then two more. He kept making and throwing, each ball landing with a crack and a slide.

“You again? You little shit.” The Nightmare hissed, its essence scabbing over wherever the ice landed and slid to. “Shit, it burns! What matter of miserable creature are you?!”

The child didn't respond. Even he didn't know. He threw two more snowballs, the Nightmare shrinking back. “Gah, fine! This isn't over! I won't be kept away from this morsel for long!” He jumped up and burrowed into the shadows on the floor, his presence soon leaving the building entirely.

When the Nightmare abated, the child relaxed and looked down at Rory. He was already starting to calm down, though there were telltale tenses near his eyes.

The child wished that he could do more. Rory, with his overly gentle heart and kind actions, deserved a princess's ransom in kind returns.

The most he could do is keeping the worst of offenders away from this house. Even with that Nightmare not. Getting. The hint.

28: The Doctor Will See You Now

Coffee, black and acrid in the air, boils away inside a ceramic percolator. He yawns, a tongue topped in black tapping against a perfectly straight row of teeth.

The door opens, footsteps absent but the warm weight of a new presence coming into the room anyway.

“Is that coffee?”

“Mm-hm.” The first individual stirs in some creamer. The bottle bore the face of a friendly female bovine; the creamer thick and sweet. “In a sweet mood today?”

“No, no,” The warm presence says, something fluttering about, “Let the bitterness come through without fodder.” A cup of the steaming brew pours out into a mug that floats up into the air. It tips over, but the flow doesn't spill to the floor; it is swallowed by something unseen. “What are your appointments today?”

“I only have the one.”

The floating mug stills. “The boy?”

A smile, full lips surrounded by five o'clock shadow. “The boy.”

The floating mug tips over once more. The bitter drink slips into nothingness, emptying soon after. “It amazes me that he's still going. But... I suppose strength shows itself in more than one regard.” The mug rests back upon the counter. “Another for the road, please? I have couples therapy in a few minutes.”

A chuckle is succeeded by the cup filling up with the sharp sluice. “Good luck. Though I don't imagine you need it.”

The cup floats upwards once more, the warm presence leaving in several brief beats of wings.

Left alone, he sips at his coffee once more. The ripples from the motion slow, allowing the reflection of an older man to sift through. An impressive specimen: broad shoulders, salt-and-peppered hair, and that shadowy goatee all offset a pair of black buttons sewed into where one's eyes would be.

A Beaudam, the paternal counterpoints to their child-kidnapping sisters: the Beldams. The Beaudam picks up a napkin from the counter. He huffs into it before lifting it to one of his buttons and wiping it to a lovely shine. “Alright,” Says he, “An hour on the clock. Let's get things...”

***

“Started.” The Beaudam walks into a room pale as spider's silk but smooth like a pregnant cocoon. “How about calm burgundies and purples for this session?” The Beaudam asks the office. Immediately, the long stretches of opalescent white flip over to reveal melting gradients of rich burgundy and royal, relaxing purple. Several stretches of web reach up from the floor. They twist and wind round each other: layering and curving until a red velvet couch stood in their place. More bustles of strands repeat the process. They create an armchair, a tall standing lamp, and a record player.

That last item, still and cold and blue in the growing warmth of the room, gives the Beaudam a pause. “Let's hope...” Eyelids blink over shiny black buttons, “That we won't need that today.”

He turns to check over his office once more, hoping that the faintest bit of silk has been overcome by color.

Good.

He's all set.

The Beaudam strolls from one side of the room to the other where a small speaker was mounted into the wall. “Dolores?” He says when he presses the button.

“E'yes, Dr. Bodicen?” The speaker crackles.

“Is my one o'clock here?” Dr. Bodicen asks, button eyes looking up towards the digital clock-face above the speaker.

The speaker crackles to life once more. “I'll send him in right now.”

“You're a wonder.” Dr. Bodicen chuckles and turns the speaker off. The Beaudam walks to the armchair and takes a seat. In and out, simple breaths. He just needs his clipboard and pen and...

Dr. Bodicen looks around and sighs. “Clipboard, please.” The ceiling opens up to spit out a clipboard; a pen falling into Dr. Bodicen's free hand. “Thank you.” He says, shaking the sticky clipboard free of saliva. It's on the thinner side, more like water, so it soon wicks and dries away.

Now.

To wait.

He waits and waits, tapping his pen against the clipboard: to get all of the jitters out. On the wall, the clock heaves it's heavy lines and fits them into place.

1:00 PM.

There's a knock at the door.

“Just a minute.” Dr. Bodicen stands to his feet. As he walks, he considers the boon of deciding on the white dress shirt and the black slacks today.

Dr. Bodicen, upon reaching the door, takes a low breath. The door opens. “Zachary Bruys. Come on in.” Those expressionless eyes, even more spriteless than Dr. Bodicen's buttons, look up at the Beaudam.

***

“Please,” Says Dr. Bodicen, waving a hand towards the couch, “Have a seat.”

“Can't see myself doing much else.” Zach replies in simple monotone. He does sit down, though. Without a second word from the Beaudam, he lays down: head resting against the couch's arm.

“I just wanted to give you some time to decompress before we get started.” Dr. Bodicen holds a hand out besides himself.

Zach closes his eyes. “Too much coffee can't be good for you.”

Sure enough, the Beaudam's previously abandoned mug spat into his hand. Though he could only chuckle. “I'd offer the same bit of caution.” He takes a sip, black-tipped tongue licking the rest from his lips. “But we both know that you're practically immune to even the most concentrated cup.”

Zach opens his eyes. “Sometimes I wish I knew why.” Dr. Bodicen waits a moment to make sure that Zach was comfortable.

“It's been a while since your last appointment.”

Zach replies, “Lot of changes. Guess I've been too busy.” He rests one hand over his stomach and lets the other dangle to the floor. “I finally rented out the extra space in 1685.”

“Oh good! Great to hear.” Says Dr. Bodicen. He jots something down on his notepad, more for his own recollection than anything else. “So you haven't been locked away in your tower all alone.”

“You make it sound like I don't have a life.” Zach says. “I manage the condo. I go to the gym four times a week. Once a month I hang out with Rory and Eirwen. And I'm always traveling between the districts.”

Tap-tap, taps the pen against the clipboard. “If you can boil down your life to several activities, then you don't necessarily have a life.”

The mug was empty at this point. Dr. Bodicen scrapes a line across the sheet. “Tell me about your tenants, Zach.”

“It's a chaotic mix of a bunch of guys. And one ball of curious slime. Nothing much to report.”

“Surely one of them has managed to pique some sort of interest.” Dr. Bodicen insists. It makes Zach look down to his hand resting on his stomach.

“I guess there's Abelard.” Zach starts, clarifying, “He's a Wendigo. The European kind. He's nice enough: doesn't go out of his way to start trouble. He has three daughters, though.”

“Three? Seems like a handful.”

Zach agrees with a nod. “I helped enroll them into Fae Rock. To help him have some peace of mind.”

“I would insist that you are the one in need of peace of mind.” Dr. Bodicen scratches over the clipboard again. “But, I should say... The older, single father? Ah, Zachary, but you have a type.” Dr. Bodicen chuckles, scratching his own 5 o'clock shadow.

“Never denied it.” Zach tosses back. Dr. Bodicen chuckles for the both of them. Zach goes quiet. Deathly so; still looking up at the ceiling. It starts to make Dr. Bodicen a little unsettled until Zach closes his eyes.

“I had the dream again.”

Dr. Bodicen stills. The lack of motion stirs when he sets the clipboard and pen on the floor and stands to his feet. He steps over to the record player in the room and, reaching into the small cabinet beneath it, pulls out a smooth vinyl record.

He places it upon the platter, the device beginning a slow, leisurely spin. Dr. Bodicen rests the stylus upon the record, not flinching once at the few skips of sound that follow him back to his chair.

Elbows resting against his thighs, chin upon his fingers. “Whenever you're ready.”

Zach follows the grain of the ceiling above. “It starts out like the others. Dark room, lit with candles. Someone's holding me, singing something into my ear. I...” He covers his eyes with his hand, “I can never remember what it is whenever I wake up. It's like it gets swept away and forced behind several thick... walls.”

Dr. Bodicen leans back in his chair. “Sometimes our brains try to keep things away from immediate recollection.” He fiddles with the pen in his fingers, “For protection. For maturation.”

Zach doesn't respond at first; instead, looking at his hands. “A door is open. I'm lead deep... deep into the darkness. The air smells damp. Rotten. It tastes like salt.”

Dr. Bodicen opens his mouth but Zach jumps in again.

“I see others. They're all so young. But someone screams. Something hits a wall. A candle wavers,” Zach follows the ceiling's design with his finger. “I hear something splash against the stone floors. And then... Nothing.”

Dr. Bodicen waits, leaned back in his chair. When Zach seems content in remaining silent, he speaks once more. “A few different details this time. What do you think they meant?”

Zach thinks for a second. Lips move around a word but only later does he say, “That I'm so desperate to see my parents again that I'm imagining them as buried treasure?”

“An interesting deduction.” Says Dr. Bodicen, fingers smoothing down his goatee. He looks to the clock fading in from the webs and ether of the wall. “Well, it looks like our session is over for the day. Was there anything else you wanted to, you know, lay out on the table?”

Dr. Bodicen looks down to his empty clipboard for a second. Just a second. When he lowers it and looks up once more.

Zach had gotten up from the chair; looking down at the Beaudam with those imposing, blank eyes.

“Yeah.” Zach brushes his hair back. He follows the minute gesture by hooking his fingers into the hem of his shirt and lifting the fabric up; a shock of hardened ab muscles peeking out. “Me.”

Dr. Bodicen attempts to keep his button eyes from drifting lower.

It's a failed effort. “Mr. Bruys... As a professional, I have to remind you that pursuing a relationship of this nature with your therapist is highly unethical.”

The door breaks the relative silence in two with a resounding click. “However...” Dr. Bodicen grins, teeth glinting in the room's dimming light. “My professional hours have just rolled over.”

***

Dr. Bodicen scours every inch and cranny of his office after Zach has left. He carries a can of air freshener (the good stuff, with the silver label) with him as he strives to make sure that Zach really had gotten all of his clothes before leaving. He was a professional, after all.

Luckily, though, the webs of his room didn't shiver with the presence of anything out of order. “At least there's that.” Dr. Bodicen gives a few sprays behind the chair.

And on the chair.

And in his armchair.

… Maybe two more sprays for his armchair. Damn that boy's lower-body strength was enviable.

Dr. Bodicen tosses the can into the air when it was empty. A length of web shoots down and seizes before assimilating it into the walls.

He wished that he had time to sit down and reflect on the previous session.

But it wasn't done yet. Dr. Bodicen approaches his record player. Well-practiced motions soon had the record, now with music overwritten by the contents of the session, removed and dipped into a protective sleeve.

There was something about elevators that just managed to lurch one's stomach up and then screw it back into place.

And that was just normal elevators. What about one that descended far, far beneath the building that the clinic was hosted in. Far beneath the crust of the earth and then past rushing groundwater finding its way into the greater waterways.

The elevator clangs and creaks as it lands upon damp stone. No sooner had the great brass doors opened does Dr. Bodicen walk out: record in hand and button-eyes narrowed in focus.

He keeps his steps steady, slow as he walked over slick stones. They grow darker the further he goes: ivory white and bubbling waters, bricks of sapphire laid into the ground to signal the lifting blue tide.

The stone and cool earth disintegrated into sand the hue of pitch, Dr. Bodicen stops on the edge of the dark sands and looks.

Just looks.

At the shapeless void that is the black water. It didn't ripple, it didn't bubble.

It was just there.

Dr. Bodicen sighs and holds the record up in his hand. “How much longer,” He began, hurling the record into the slick abyss, “Do you expect us to keep on with this performance?”

The record plummets into the water. Not even leaving a simple disturbance of the surface.

Dr. Bodicen folds his arms. He taps a foot onto the sand. Impatience grew and bubbled but he didn't let any of it spill. Dr. Bodicen turns a scant inch to the left.  

 

W    hy do you... TH ink it's                                  yourrrr place                      to                AAAASSSKK?

29: Geography at Fae Rock

Fae Rock Academy. While there were dozens of schools and places of primary education in Dama Fristad, Fae Rock was unique in its ease of admission and warming welcomes to both students and their parents.

After all...

***

“Masumi-chan~!”

A Moon Bunny, like a white rabbit large enough to come up to your waist, hopped across the school-grounds. She stopped and rested on her hind-legs, her apron fluttering in the soft breeze as she adjusted her headscarf.

Masumi, the little Moon-Bunny with horns sprouting from her head, hopped out of one of the residential cabins. “Mama!” Masumi shouted, hopping into her mother's arms. “I made more marshmallows for you and Daddy!”

“Ah, did you?” Masumi's mother playfully gasped. She licked at her paw and smoothed down the fur between Masumi's horns. “You'll have to teach me your recipe.”

“Mama~!” Masumi pouted, “It's a secret~!”

***

It's been proven that children function better with parental engagement. The same went for nonhumans.

 

The geography room was a buzz of activity. With maps of the world hanging on every wall, each table dotted with a floating ceramic globe, and a bookcase stuffed with atlases of varying complexity. The wide room was well-prepared to teach children of all ages and types about the world outside of Dama Fristad's walls.

Though... certain aspects of it could be kept away until they were older.

“Alright guys!” Eirwen called out with a gentle clap of his hands. The two other teachers on duty calmed their students down, urging their attention to the human in the room.

“We can go back to coloring and matching maps in a bit,” Eirwen promised, shaking his head at the few groans he got, “Right now we have to do a lesson or two. It's not anything too hard, don't worry.”

Eirwen clapped his hands together, the whiteboard and the adjacent walls fading into a pale glow. “Now,” Eirwen waved towards a familiar shape that appeared on the pale board, “Who knows what this is? Come on, anyone can answer.”

“I recognize it!” Said Besame, the young death-bat adjusting his round frames, “Five districts. Six if you look up in the air. It's Dama Fristad!”

“Very good!” Eirwen nodded, turning to the faded screen and waving a hand over the surface to zoom out. Beyond the wide reaches of Dama Fristad's safe walls, the students looking upon the shape of what used to be the United States. Now the bloated land mass was portioned off into three uneven boundaries. “How about this?”

“The Freedom-Divided States!” Beatrisa called out, Eirwin nodding to let her know she had said the right answer.

“And who knows the names of the three States? Anyone?”

The class was quiet as the children all had to think about that. They were nestled in their own little corner there in Dama Fristad. The chaos of the nation outside the walls was something that could be put out of mind.

A flutter of cloth had Eirwen calling upon the young creature in the sheet. “Yes Juke?”

“Sou. California.” He muttered, “Heartland. And... The 13th?”

“Excellent!” Eirwen clapped (Heidi and a few others following the gesture), “Yes, Dama Fristad is nestled here in Sou. California.” He didn't specify; merely circled his hand around the space that encompassed the former California, Oregon, Nevada, Washington, and Colorado states. “Then there's Heartland. Hm,” Eirwen tapped the vast majority of the continent: from a portion with a faded ''zona' to 'Flowering Riders' hanging off into the Atlantic Ocean, “Supposedly it's full of buffalo and twisters as far as the eye can see!” He winked at his students, letting a few of them giggle at the mental image of cows and twisters spinning over dusty trails. “Then The 13th. We...” Eirwen rubbed the abrupt cough out of his throat, “W-we don't have to talk about that one until you guys are older – Anyway!” Eirwen thought for a moment. Which place to show next? He ended up moving the board to show an island nation surrounded by whirlpools that shined bright like the sun.

“Who knows what country this is?” Eirwen asked the class, adding, “I'll give you a hint. It's one of the few places you can find natural cherry blossom trees.”

“Ooh!” Masumi hopped up, shooting a paw up into the air, “Akatsuki! My grandma lives in Hokkaido!”

“Oh, that's right.” Eirwen turned around, messing around with the board. “There are a lot of mountains and shorelines in Akatsuki, aren't there?”

Marumi nodded. “Yep! There's also a bunch of--”

“And the whole place is surrounded,” The wild wolf-girl jumped onto the table, grinning sharply and curling her growing claws, “By hungry kaiju! Rrroar!”

The reaction was immediate: Beatrisa and some of the younger students, as well as the timid giant, jumping for cover and whining.

“Clawssie!” Eirwen whipped around. He charged over to the tables, “That was an awful thing to do. Do I need to call your parents about your behavior?”

“No..!” The wolf-girl gave a pitiable howl. She jumped off the table and scrambled back into her seat, her tail wrapping around her and her ears laying flat against her hair. “Don't call them! I'll be good...”

Eirwen folded his arms, shaking his head, “That wasn't a nice thing to say. All of your moms and dads have come from places where people shout things just like that at them. Do you want to make others feel bad like that?”

It came in uneven breaks and pauses, but the entirety of the class replied, “No, Mr. Eirwen.”

The creature underneath the sheet looked up from the desk and looked at Eirwen. At one changing detail. “Mm.” He flapped one side of his sheet. Familiar with the sound of gently fluttering fabric, Eirwen turned towards him, “Yes, Juke?”

“Your hair's... turning white...”

Eirwen choked and seized his ponytail to look at it. The black was faltering against the white again. Damn it, why had he let himself get angry? No. No...

“No. I can finish this lesson.” Eirwen told the room's air. He took a deep breath. He needed the steadying grace. “Okay.” He nodded and then drudged up his favored smile. “Let's look at a few more countries and then we'll call it a day.” Eirwen waved over the board, the map expanding and spinning until it got to a familiar conglomerate of nations.

Of course, a lot of them were divided by barriers of dark clouds, jagged divides into the earth's mantle, and many other separating elements.

“They speak French in this country.” Eirwen held an open hand underneath his chosen area.

“France?”

“France?” The tooth fairy twins, Pepper Mint and Winter Mint, guessed.

Eirwen chuckled but had to reject the answer. “That's a very good guess. It did used to go by that name. But, no. This is the Versaille Court.” He pointed to the cluster of island nations, the largest portion in the center surrounded by dark clouds. “The easiest way to remember is to think about the Divided Kingdom being sprinkled right above it.”

Some of the children took notes, others were distracted by chatting amongst themselves. It would be the young reindeer-deer Blitzelle. He did a quick skimming over of the board before knocking a hoof to the table. “Mr. Eirwen?”

“Yes Blitzelle?” Eirwen replied, redoing his ponytail and hoping to God above that the white would die down.

“Can I name some more countries?” Blitzelle asked, “Can I? Please?”

Eirwen had to give up. He would deal with it when the kids had their snacktime. “Sure thing. In fact, anyone can join in but remember to...”

“'Raise your hands, wings, or knock on the table'.” Recited the children. Blitzelle clip-clopped to the board and, shaking himself, brought a warm cinnamon glow to his antlers. He tilted his head to the left, the board reacting to the corresponding glowing horn.

Upon seeing a massive expanse of land surrounded by hastily scribbled snowflakes and icicles, Blitzelle called out, “That one's the W.U.S.R.”

Blitzelle made the board move lower and to the right, bringing attention to the African continent that had long been divided into its two empires. “Akwukwo Ndu.” He addressed the upper half, green and lush, before looking down to the lower, drier half, “The Southern Union. And...” Blitzelle stepped back a bit. “That's... all I know, heh.”

“That's more than okay!” Eirwen was quick to reassure the reindeer-deer, “You've been studying, haven't you?”

Blitzelle nodded. He clip-clopped back to his seat and sat down just in time for Heidi to raise her hand.

“Of course, dear.” Eirwen stepped aside and let the little European Wendigo walk up to the board. Heidi lifted up to her tippy-toes and made the board spin back around to the chaotic mess that was Europe. She looked around, squinting her eyes. Finally, she found it.

“Koniglicher-Blitz.”

Constanz lifted up from her spot at the table and let out a happy hiss, like water onto a hot pan.

“Very good, Heidi.” Eirwen ushered her back to her seat before turning off the magic board, “That goes for all of you. Even though some,” He gave a knowing look to Pepper Mint and Winter Mint, the giant, and to Clawssia, “Of you need to do some studying.” Eirwen glanced at one of the floating globes. He watched it bob and roll quietly. “This world is a great, wide treasure. I hope...” He watched as another teacher arrived to take the kids to the cafeteria, “I hope that you all will grow up, happy and healthy, so you can make the most of it.”

When the last little footfall had left the room, Eirwen pulled some of his hair closer to his line of sight. The white was still holding strong, promising him a date with hair-dye that night.

“Be better than us.”

30: Sweet Sunset

31: The Guardian of Flames

“DISMISSED!”

“Sir!” Izumi, Rebekah, and Guang saluted to Commissioner Cruikshank before the Kelpie jumped into his pond to retire.

The triad exhaled in relief, Rebekah's scales relaxing, Izumi's wings drooping, and Guang swooping down to the second floor of DFPD to get to his locker.

“Someone's excited for something...” Rebekah said as she prowled into the locker rooms that everyone who worked for DFPD shared. Guang pricked open the lock on his unit and revealed a bouquet of fiery red and scorching orange blooms. They trembled with embers flaking to the ground, Rebekah smacking the phoenix in the back with her tail, “Or is it excitement for someone?”

“I don't have a clue what you're talking about.” Guang grabbed the bouquet in his talons and plucked into the air. “Are we flocking together tomorrow morning?”

“I can't see any reason to do otherwise.” Izumi said, retrieving his saddlebag from his locker. “Guang.”

“Yeah?”

Izumi regarded the phoenix with a stern but cautious glance. “Don't overwhelm her.”

“Still have no idea what you're talking about!” Guang trilled out. He beat his fiery wings and peeled out of the station.

He had a date in the District of Fire.

***

The great Ignis Volcano belched out thick clouds of ash and smoke hot enough to sear a man to bone. The buildings in Ignis Fanis reached up into the skies, half of them plastered in some sort of glowing advertisement or sigil for luck and good tidings.

Some of the smaller buildings, though 'small' was only relative, were capped in great domes spun from metric tons of glass; dyed all conceivable hues from God's rainbow.

Guang carried himself through the familiar, smokey skies of Ignis Fanis. He passed by a building half-covered in a moving ad for Dragon's Blood Energy Elixir (the mascot being a busty drake-girl with an emblazoned expression). Dipping down, he swept down to keep speed with the copper, eastern-in-flare Ignin Breaker trolley: the one district-exclusive route in Dama Fristad.

He just needed to ride its tailwinds until he got to his destination... Oh. Hey.

There it was.

Checking on his bouquet of flowers, Guang beat his wings and broke away in favor of the largest bathhouse in Ignis Fanis. Which was mostly a truth.

Not its size, but the fact that it was only half a bathhouse. The upper half was the residence, office, and meeting-space of Ignis Fanis's Guardian.

Guang flapped on in.

He had to enter through the main entrance and, no sooner had his talons touched the tiled floors did every feather on his body poof up and turn the phoenix into a veritable orb of fluff.

“Damn it...” Guang shook himself and grabbed the bouquet into his beak. When his feathers slicked back down, burning bright, he walked through the steamy halls of the bathhouse. He passed businessmen discussing deals in hot tubs, smugglers discussing the latest exploitable trends of Dama Fristad's young folk, several tubs reserved by impassioned couples, and even some... Less than legal paid rendezvous.

However, he didn't even stop once to investigate notable leads. He quickly walked up one flight of stairs.

Then he hopped into an elevator.

He hopped out of it when it went to its highest floor and flitted into a second.

His was as a repetitive path. But, when he looked down to the flowers in his beak, he knew it would all be worth it.

***

The final elevator which stood as the great divide between bathhouse and guardian's haven dinged as it slowly opened its gold, ruby-encrusted gates.

Guang walked into the hall and started down the hall. It was as if he stepped into an experimental fusion of old Japan and global aesthetic. He walked past walls of paper supported by ebony beams. Those were dotted by the occasional painted scroll depicting some matter of kitsune, or fox-spirit.

There was one with a sharp grin, grey belly, and red tipped ears.

There was the gigantic one who stood poised; her nine flaming tails ready to fight and her emerald eyes blazing behind crescent frames.

And the third... Was the creature he was coming to see today.

Guang stopped in front of a large sliding door painted in minimalist flames that stood stark against the paper and beams. On either side, though, stood what seemed to be a woman from their dainty feet up to their short happi kimono. It wasn't until one looked up to their faces and saw a distinct lack of them.

Noppera-Bo; the faceless spirits.

“You are back again.” One of them said, the other adding,

“Your perseverance is admirable.”

They turned to one another, sharing something beyond a look. Turning back, the first asking, “Shall we let Hotaru-hime know that you are here?”

“Now, we don't have to do that!” Guang reassured the two Noppera-Bo, “The tool of a real romantic is surprise.”

The two Noppera-Bo looked to each other again, giggling at a joke shared only between them. They did let the doors open, however, Guang stepping inside. The doors quickly slid shut behind him and he took in the familiar setting of ebony furniture and white carpeting. The light-bulbs were sunset against the ink-painting that the aesthetic of the office provided.

Vermilion paws tapped at a laptop in a frenzy. She was one of the few Guardians of Dama Fristad who embraced human-based technology and, heavens, how it made life easier.

Her own nine tails: covered in thick fur that darkened towards the tips, swayed behind her. They jostled and urged the balls of blue spiritual that faded in and out of existence near them. Even as Guang walked further and further into the office, the creature's wide, brown eyes never left the laptop screen. Two of her tails came down. One plucked her owl round glasses off of her muzzle while the other wiped them clean. They were gently eased into place before the tails went back on their swishing, swaying way.

Guang walked to the side of the Kitsune's desk. Hotaru, the Guardian of Ignis Fanis, district of fire, didn't even twitch her ears to acknowledge the presence in the room.

Population growths.

Population declines.

Traffic.

Steam quality.

Coal output.

Temperature...

Temperature...

“Temperature!”Hotaru yelped at the slight deviation in the data on her screen. The kitsune jumped over her desk and rushed to the side of the room where a hanging-chime phone rested upon a small pedestal. A rotary phone was dialed via numbers being spun on a wheel in order, correct? So a hanging-chime phone was dialed via someone hitting the corresponding numbered chimes in order. Simple. Hotaru tugged her sleeves back with her teeth. She tapped out the needed number, waiting as the notes held in the air. “Yes? Hello?!” She spoke into the receiver, “The temperatures of the water reserves are dipping … By how much?!”

Guang was spun around on his talons by Hotaru rushing to her desk and then rushing away.

“By three whole degrees!” Hotaru yipped, “If the water gets too low, then the steam won't form! If the steam doesn't form, then the magma barriers will fall! This is all going to be a disaster!” The Kitsune fell to the ground, covering her face in her paws. “The other Guardians will have to come and they'll never see me as their equal..!!”

Something was said on the other line.

“Oh?” Hotaru listened, “Oh, so... Just a minor variance? Okay... I'll check.” Two of Hotaru's tails brought the chimes to a halt and she padded over to her laptop. A quick look-through and, sure enough, she was able to take a deep breath of relief. “O-okay. Thank goodness.”

“Hey...” Guang tried speaking up but Hotaru rushed back to her laptop and sunk into the actions of reading, typing, responding. Her tails followed their own devices behind her. One of them reached out to the tea set nearby and poured out a steaming cup that smelled of spice and lavender.

Guang felt his shoulders dip a bit when he noticed the full platter of cakes and cookies. Hotaru had probably worked through breakfast and lunch again.

“Mm?” Hotaru didn't look away from the screen when she felt something warm at her lips. She opened her mouth a bit, sipping at the tea in absent-intentioned motions.

The phoenix in the room really could have watched the kitsune all day long. But he would have liked a little attention before he left, at least.

He walked closer to the desk. He noticed something to the side and even though it made him want to rush out and toss out the flowers in his beak, Guang went on.

“Brought you a gift~!”

He tossed the flowers next to Hotaru's laptop, finally dragging away her attention.

“Wh-- Inspector Ruan?!” She eased her laptop away, just a bit. “When did you get in here?”

“I've been in here for half an hour – Anyway!” Guang shifted the flow of conversation, “I've got reservations at that spicy noodle place on Cauldron Drive.”

Hotaru blinked at him.

Guang waggled a fiery eyebrow. “Ah?”

Hotaru tilted her head, “I don't get it.”

“For heaven's sake...” Guang let his beak fall smack dab against Hotaru's desk. “I'm asking you out..!”

“Oh, I don't have time!”

Guang groaned, “Yeah. I expected that.”

“I still have to go check on the Spice Market...”

“To keep an eye on any smuggling or forgers,” Guang sighed.

“In fact!” Hotaru jumped up and rushed to the side of the room that hosted a bookcase full of clipboards, scrolls, and heavy tomes. She grabbed a scroll, she grabbed a quill: each of the items held tight by one of her tails until she dropped them into her traveling satchel. “I should go on patrol right now while I still have open skies!”

Guang lifted a wing to shield his eyes from the burst of steam Hotaru brought in upon opening the windows. The flames near her tails burst into larger plumes, matching spools of fire appearing at her ankles.

“Have a safe flight home, Inspector Ruan!”

She bounded out of the office, her thoughts only on checking off the list of duties and responsibilities she had taken with her.

Guang watched her disappear over the skyline before closing the abandoned laptop.

He straightened up the bookcase to make it at least seem like it had some semblance of alphabetical order.

The curtains needed to be pressed. But, for now, simply tidying them up would do.

He emptied the tea cup Hotaru had abandoned and replaced the tea set so that her tails would know that it hadn't gone too far away.

He was on his way out when he picked up the bouquet of flowers he had brought and then, walking a familiar path, tossed them into the trash can that held the last twenty, decaying bouquets he had brought for Hotaru.

Guang gently closed the office door behind him. He waved to the two Noppera-Bo and walked down the hall. He reached into his breast pocket, pulls out his phone, and presses it to his ear.

“Yeah, hey. It's Ruan Guang. Can you change my...” He sighed. “Yeah. Make it a single. Yeah. Yeah. Just like last month.”

32: Trade and Barter

Bing-bong!

Odysseus groaned, pressing his face into his pillow.

Bing-bong!

“Mmck-mmf...” Odysseus snorted, the noise smothered by the fabric.

But, still, his phone went on. Chiming and vibrating, tormenting Odysseus's tired senses until he gnashed his teeth and seized the phone. “Fucking damn it, what the hell is--?!”

He stopped mid-rant when he started reading the messages he had so desperately tried to ignore.

'Did you forget what day it is?'

'Of course you did. Why am I not surprised...'

'The elders are on their way. Amaterasu is bringing me and I'm certain that Poseidon is just around the corner.'

'We're in front of your building. Please tell me you at least have refreshments.'

'And the elders are knocking...'

“NO!” Odysseus bolted out of bed, barely grabbing a towel to cover his shame on his way out of the door. “Don't open it!” He bellowed out once he saw that Zach was at the door, his door on the knob, “Don't open it, you fucking cocksucker!!”

“Don't do what now?” Zach feigned stupidity, his face impassive, as he did the exact opposite of what Odysseus had ordered. “Whoops.”

Although, when the door opened, Zach examined the situation. First came the red-hooded figures: faces obscured, shoulders weighed down by gold amulets and silver rings.

Then came the priests: silent but clad in blue attempts of Shinto vestment robes.

A spray of salt had Mira, who had just woken up, groaning, “What the hell smells like low-tide?”

He yawned and looked over to see god of the sea currents Poseidon. “Huh.” Mira brought out his laptop to check on his latest round of purchases. “Would have thought you would have smelled like horse-ass, but wonders never cease.”

The next entrant seemed to bring the rays of the sun in with her: all attracted to the great golden plate adorning her back. She was a beauty, though: all pale skin and ebony hair down to the floor.

Even with her radiance and vermilion kimono blazing an obnoxious level of light into the corneas of everyone in the room.

Zach, Mira, and Odysseus slipped some sunglasses on.

Amaterasu looked around until she saw the Minotaur in his lack of dress. Regality melted into a subtle sneer and an upturned nose. “You couldn't even get dressed for this. By my rays, you continue to never to falter to my expectations...”

Odysseus looked at Amaterasu. For a good minute, in fact. “Say wha..?”

“For Olympus's sake, boy...” Poseidon pinched the bridge of his nose, beard sinking with his sigh. “Let's get this over with. You there,” He addressed Zach, “Make refreshments for your distinguished guests!”

Zach looked at the scene. He let his focus return to Poseidon and then back to Odysseus. “Your rent doesn't include catering...” Although... Zach tilted his head: getting a better view of something. “Alright.” He shrugged, walking to the kitchen.

“Whatever you guys are doing, can you ease up on the light-show?” Mira asked before grabbing his controller.

Odysseus had half a mind. And he was about to use it to say something about Zach belonging in the kitchen.

But then

He saw her.

“For fuck's sake..!” He scrubbed his massive hands down his face and snout.

Amaterasu led her in: the body of a young woman but the head of a white cow upon her shoulders with black hair half-up in a bun and half laying down.

***

Despite Odysseus's lack of dress and how the other bovine creature wearing a business suit, they were both directed to sit upon the floor of the main room. The robed figures, silent as dust and revealing just as many secrets, tugged upon their ears and inspected their arms.

Much like they were the livestock they resembled.

Zach was already wanting this clusterfuck of a cattle auction out of his condo. Nevertheless, he set a platter of pastries and sweet tea on the coffee table.

Amaterasu took one. She discretely sniffed at the rich scent of chocolate tempered with the tart bite of raspberry and sweet cream. “I would imagine,” She told Poseidon before taking a bite, “That a few more years of these meetings will finally result in a more... admirable temperament.”

“Agreed.” Poseidon chomped one of the pastries down and washed it down with the tea, “Is her womb still in quality standing?”

“But of course,” Amaterasu lifted a cup of tea to her painted lips, “I have spared no expense in making sure that her maidenhood is intact and that she remains fertile.”

Zach looked to the newcomer in the room, finally identifying her as an Ushi-Onna.

The wince behind her closed eyes didn't escape his line of sight.

Odysseus gnashed his teeth when one of the robed figures tugged on his arm to extend it out and examine his musculature.

“Hmph.” Amaterasu set her cup down, “All that work on his body and he hasn't even bothered to strengthen his mind.”

“Fucking...” Odysseus snatched his arm back just in time for Poseidon to take a long glance at the Ushi-Onna.

“I hope she's not planning on working once they start having calves.”

“Of course not.” Amaterasu was quick to answer on behalf of her ward, said ward glaring a hole into the floor.

It was when Amaterasu took another pastry that she finally asked Zach, “What do you call these? They are quite palatable.”

Zach stopped wiping down the kitchen counter and turned so he could answer properly. “Oh. They're a personal recipe. I call them 'Get the Fuck Out's.”

Poseidon blinked at Zach.

Zach said nothing.

Amaterasu blinked at Zach.

To which Zach said, “They're called 'Get the Fuck Out's.”

Amaterasu huffed and stood to her feet. A clap of her hands had the hooded figures stepping away from the two bovines in the room. “Well then. We will be taking our leave since this space is simply... Unsuited for a proper meeting.”

“Oh, are you sure?” Zach asked, picking up a heavy pitcher, “I have some nice 'And Don't Let the Door Hit Your Ass On the Way Out' to wash things down with.”

He didn't get a response from the two deities leaving. But one of the cloaked figures hissed out, “Watch your insolence, boy.”

“There's the door.” Zach insisted, “Right there.”

Soon, yet not soon enough for the stormy atmosphere of the main room, the guests had all left aside from Odysseus's friend.

That was a terrible word to use.

“Fucking embarrassing me...” Odysseus snorted out.

“You knew we were coming today.” She hissed at him.

“Shut the hell up.” Odysseus clenched his fingers together, rage building; anger bubbling.

Her shoulders shook, the muscles near her eyes tensing. “You're making everything worse.”

“Stop your bitching...” Odyssesus's voice grew rougher.

She shook her head. “You're a curse on my life.”

“SHUT UP!” Those remaining in the room watched, their absorption of the scene in slush-like slow before snapping back to full-speed with the smack of Odysseus's fist into the other creature's cheek.

“And this just got a little too 'Domestic Abuse' for me..!” Mira gulped, sinking into his chest and slamming the mouth shut.

Zach immediately stated, voice even, “Odysseus. Stop. What the hell are you doing?”

Unnoticed by the standing parties, the Ushi-Onna stood to her feet. Her cheek was beginning to swell and she glared into Odysseus's back before forcing him to turn around. She drew her fingers back and bricked them into his jaw as a fist.

Zach... was going to step in to defend her until he had seen, well, that.

“Fucking bitch!” Odysseus snatched her hair, pulling her towards himself with his other hand curled tight into another fist. She held her ground, even with the rough hands ripping a few strands out of her scalp.

“Get the hell off of me!” She dug her nails into the meat of his arm. Neither was relenting. Both were in pain. But both were beyond seeing red.

“Enough.”

Odysseus winced, not at the nails in his arm, but from the seizing of his other arm.

The Ushi-Onna stopped in her tracks when one of her arms were seized. “W-what?”

Zach pulled both parties apart, the strength to do so barely betrayed by his body. “You.” He looked to Odysseus, “Go burn off your machismo bullshit already.”

Odysseus's nostrils flared. His eyebrows knitted together until Zach let him go.

“Mind your own business, you faggot piece of shit.” Despite the less-than-needed words, Odysseus stormed off to his room and slammed the door behind himself.

“He really shouldn't have to overcompensate like that, but, okay.” Zach let go of the Ushi-Onna and asked, “Do you need me to call an ambulance? Or... something?”

“No, no.” She shook her head and started smoothing her hair back down. She couldn't let go of what just happened. “What...” She took a good long look at Zach. But she did turn away after a moment: a rushing, like water, starting to make her dizzy.

“What are you?”

Zach blinked. “Usually people start off with 'who are you'? Or 'my name is.'”

What should he cook that night? The lamb might be nice. Shepherd's Pie? There was beef in the fridge but he didn't want to deal with Suraj mourning a cow's death.

“I'm Zach. Basically I'm your friend's landlord.”

The Ushi-Onna narrowed her eyes. “That bastard is not my friend.”

Zach watched her.

He watched her.

He watched her some more.

“Your fiance?”

The Ushi-Onna made an unhappy sound in the back of her throat. She got to her feet and sat back down on the couch.

“I am Musume, by the way.” Musume said, “Tell me... How do you find it in yourself to talk back to the gods?” Musume asked, Zach promptly replying,

“I'm only half Japanese and I don't have any blood tied to Greece? Honestly, there are only six or seven figures I see on a deity-basis, and those two were not part of that club. Seriously, what is someone like you doing mixed up with a train-wreck like him?”

Musume couldn't deny that 'train-wreck' was an appropriate beginning in describing this aspect of her life. The idea of having a listening ear was nice, though.

“Surely you've heard the stories.” Musume watched Zach, waiting for an answer and getting none. “Poseidon gave his nephew, the ancient King of Crete, a gorgeous white bull to sacrifice for a bountiful reign as king. Said king didn't want to sacrifice the bull, it being so pristine and beautiful and all, so he tried to trick Poseidon by letting it go and sacrificing another bull.”

“This whole story sounds like it puts the 'U' in 'Hubris'.” Zach said, making himself comfortable on the couch.

“Pretty much, yes.” Musume went on, “As revenge, Poseidon bewitched the king's wife to fall in love with the bull and, after nine months and what I'm just certain was an enlightening night for everyone involved, she gave birth to the first Minotaur.”

“I stand corrected,” said Zach, “It puts the 'I' and 'S' in there as well.”

Musume looked up. Was someone... No, anyway. “The first Minotaur was locked up in the labyrinth of the scholar Daedalus. There he was demeaned as a mindless monster; a means of torture for anyone who King Minos had a grudge against.”

What... was that she was sensing?

“So how far does the fatass fall from his ancestral tree?” Mira had finally decided to open himself up at the chance to hear some fresh dirt and talk some fresh shit.

Musume smirked at that. “He is awfully fat, isn't he? At least in the head. Minotaurs live for a long time. I recall that he's the eighth descendant down from that first Minotaur.”

Mira plopped his head down on his tongue. “So, let me run this straight: Poseidon and Amaterasu want you two to fuck? You're not a Minotaur, though. Seems like both of them don't have too much going on logic-wise.”

Musume laughed behind her hand. Oh, she liked this one. Zach got up to get more food since Mira had squeezed into the conversation. “Purebred Minotaurs can only be born male. But, obviously, that fat-headed bastard doesn't have a white coat. So... Amaterasu came in with the great idea of offering me up in this...” Agitation seeped into her voice, into her hands. “Disgusting arranged bond. So that Poseidon can get his precious white bulls.”

 

Metal clinked against metal in Odysseus's room with every rise and fall of the weights in his hands. He could still hear her out there.

Why was she still out there?

He snorted out a puff of hot air.

 

“What would Amaterasu get out of an arrangement like this?” Zach asked once he finished handing out rounds of lemonades that may have been of the harder variety. “The Greek Pantheon has never been fond of owing anyone favors. Unless there are apples and horses involved.”

Musume downed half of her glass in an instant. “I think it's a power-move on Amaterasu's behalf. She even does this sort of ego-play with our Princess; it's not fun for anyone.”

Musume lifted her glass to her lips once more.

“There you are.” She stopped herself in the middle of her drink. She looked up at you.

“I've been trying to figure out the weight I felt upon this scene. No, no. Don't say anything.”

The whole scene, aside from Musume, had slowed to a crawl. “Do you not know of the magic of the Ushi-Onna?”

You shake your head.

“We have the power of Foresight: to see that which has yet to be.” Musume ran her finger around the rim of the glass. “We can also hear the existence of those beyond this plane. So... Someone like...”

You feel yourself pinned down where you sit: the weight of the elegant creature's eyes keeping you there.

“I'm not going to keep you here for long,” Musume sighed, “I just wanted to ask a question.”

“Are you going to see it through to the end? Trying for that job opportunity? Getting through your classes... Seeing the fate of those of us in this story?”

Before you can move your head, Musume shakes hers. “Don't answer. Or, at least... Not physically.” You watch her finish off her drink. “I think that I've had enough of Dama Fristad for the day.”

The scene sped back up to normal and Musume set her empty glass on the table. “Thanks for humoring this miserable meeting.”

Zach looked to the table and then to Musume. “Back to Akatsuki?”

Musume nodded. “Back to Akatsuki. The Dairy Farms don't run themselves.”

Musume strolled to the door and let herself out. The very second she was out of the condo, Odysseus forced his door open. “Is that fucking bitch gone?”

Zach watched Odysseus go to the kitchen, sweat dripping in his wake. “I don't see why you hate her so much.”

“Because you're a dumb faggot.” Odysseus grabbed a carton of orange juice from the fridge and slammed the door.

Zach picked up the empty glasses once Mira finished with his. “I think,” The mimic began, “That you're salty because she is way out of your league, gilipollas.”

“Bite me.” Odysseus chugged down the juice before crushing the carton onto the counter. “Are you going to clean that?” Zach asked.

“Fuck no.”

“That's what I thought.” He wished that Abelard was home from work already.

***

The sky had been overcast that day, contrasting the smell of olives on the air.

“Now, this is the boy.” Poseidon had said, pushing a toddler of a Minotaur forward. Odysseus frowned and fought against the pushing until a cuff to the back of the head stowed him.

“Good, good.” Amaterasu shoved a much younger Musume towards Odysseus. “As per my part of the bargain...”

The two bovine creatures looked at one another.

Then they glared at one another.

And then Odysseus hocked back, deep in his throat, and spat a fat glob of snot onto Musume's kimono.

Her eyes went wide as saucers. She gnashed her teeth. All before launching herself into Odysseus and yanking at his hair.

“Get off of me!” Odysseus shouted up at her, digging his nails into her arm.

Even from the very beginning, this forced union had gone as well as milking a bull. Ironic, really.

33: Snowfall - Part 1

Two missiles pierced the midnight skies with their deathly wails, abruptly ending with a crash: a column of fire and scalding smoke billowing into the frosted air.
“Come on now, dearie... Just a small sip.” Paws encased in tan leather gloves gently eased a cup of something sweet and warm against a child's dry, bleeding lips. A rough cough pushed the cup away, the owner of the paws tutting. “No, none of that now...”
As weak as the child was, body cold and broken on the floor, they whined out, “Where's my... Mama, where are you?”
What could she do? Her ears drooped under the brim of her hat. “It's going to be alright,” She reassured the child, even with the cooling body of their mother under the rubble, “Just drink this and you'll be right as rain, dearie. Come on.”
Her dark eyes lost some of their shine when she felt how cold the child was getting. Their breathing was shallow and even the whining for their dead mother was weakening. “Leave them.”
The creature lifted her head at the cold words. She tried to be a being of warmth, an arm to hold for children and ailing mothers everywhere. The Kanga-Mage. Her visage was akin to a giant kangaroo toting a sunhat covered in warming blossoms. Gloves upon her gentle paws, calming bells upon her tail, and a purple cloth in her pouch that held her needed supplies.
And, right then, she was looking upon the unyielding face of the Grim Reaper.
“I will not repeat myself, mage.”
“R-right.” The Kanga-Mage eased the lifeless body to the floor. She brought the small hands together over their chest and pressed a small purple bloom in between their fingers. “A gentle trip down the Styx, then. Right?”
The Kanga-Mage hopped away just as the Grim Reaper glided over the broken ground. She didn't wait for the sound of a grisly scythe slicing through air. Not while there was the possibility of one child to save during this season.
There!
The Kanga-Mage hopped over to where a car had been flipped over by the explosions. “Where... where are you?” She looked around the crumpled vehicle until she saw the two bodies in the front: blood everywhere, bone broken and piercing through skin and muscle. She turned to the backseat and wasted no more time. A hop back so she could lift one of her large feet and kick the window in, glass splintering inward.
“Come on.” She reached in, eye twitching at glass digging into her arm. “Come on, then, I --”
She felt something warm and struggling. Gentle as she could and minding the glass, the Kanga-Mage pulled the crying treasure out of the strangled glass and metal. “There we are!”
They cried, oh how they cried and the Kanga-Mage was so grateful to hear such a sound
in a hellscape like this. The Kanga-Mage pulled a swaddling cloth from her pouch and wrapped the baby up, nice and warm and snug. A gentle honk pulled her attention to the smoky skies. A swan fluttered their wings to ease their landing. Once stable, they took hold of the babe's cloth and took off into the air.
The Kanga-Mage saw them off. They'd be safer with the Empress. All of them would. Which is what gave her the strength to hop back into the frigid carnage.

***

In the city of a thousand beasts and the men who remain civil to them, the times of snow and frost are times of celebration.
Thus, in a burg of a myriad of colored cloths and lyrics, many different celebrations and walks of life are present at the same time.
The best line of conduct during this season is to merely wish someone a 'Blessed Snowfall'. That is the way to let another know that your heart is in the right state to wish them blessings during these times, even though you may not know what worship they walk or how they spend the season.

***

At Fae Rock Boarding Academy, Eirwen was doing a final run-through of the bus. Snowfall meant that the students were going home to their parents for a week. It also meant he would be visiting home for a bit as well.
He shut the hood of the bus and called out to Blitzelle, the small reindeer-deer with the shining red antlers and hooves, “Make sure you don't forget anything --”
He was stopped by a vibration on his hip. Without checking the ID, he answered, “You've reached Eirwen Leadhooves at Fae Rock. How can I help you?”
Masumi, the little moon-bunny with horns, hopped up and handed her teacher a plastic-wrapped box of marshmallows. They had been shaped like rounded bunnies and even dotted with small bits of chocolate.
“Why, thank you Masumi! Oh, these look delicious!” Eirwen turned back to his phone call once Masumi left, “There's nothing to apologize for; these things happen.”
Besame flapped over and adjusted his glasses before handing Eirwen a book. “Mi hermano helped me pick this one out! Hope you like it, Mr. Eirwen!”
“I'm certain that I will, Besame. Thank you!” Eirwen assured the death-bat and then went back to the call. “Not until midnight, huh? Well, it's tricky but I --”
“Presents!”
“Presents!” The tooth-fairy twins Pepper Mint and Winter Mint announced, shoving hastily-wrapped packages up at Eirwen.
“Thanks guys!” Eirwen really did have a handle on accepting gifts from his students. Even when he was on the phone. The twins flew into the bus with their backpacks and suitcases. “I could bring him along with me.”
Klickshe dragged her large rolling suitcase behind her. Eirwen, despite himself, found his eyes following the designer luggage before reminding himself of who the little kobold's parents were. “Here you are, Mr. Eirwen! Happy Snowfall!”
“Oh, and what's this?” Eirwen accepted what appeared to be a handmade Snowfall card. Sugar-scented cardstock, silver glitter upon a dark blue background. The middle of it felt thicker than the rest. A giftcard, perhaps?
Klickshe's parents were teaching her well.
“Thank you so much, Klickshe!” Eirwen watched the little kobold get on the bus. “I assure you, it's not any trouble. My parents would gladly take another dinner guest.”
“Awoo~!!”
Eirwen rushed to press 'mute' and then looked down to see Clawssie running around him like the excited pup she was. “Let's go, let's go, let's go! My mama and daddy are waiting for me with all the Snowfall food and recordings of mama's matches and PRESENTS!!”
“Clawssie...” Eirwen shook his head. Clawssie rushed onto the bus and Eirwen had to carry her abandoned bag up to her. When she grabbed it, he went back out and resumed his call. “I'll be sure to send you a text with my parents' address, alright? Of course. Have a Blessed Snowfall.”
     “... She's not coming. Is she?”
Eirwen didn't flinch at the sudden quiet voice besides him. He did hate having to do what came next, though. He turned to Juke, the creature under the sheet, and took a knee.
“Your mother got called in for an overnight job. Juke, I'm so sorry.”
Juke didn't meet Eirwen's line of sight.     “It's... okay...”
Eirwen's heart clenched. He knew the exact tone of those words; the tone of 'I don't want to be a bother'.
“But!” Eirwen helped the creature under the sheet onto the bus, “I'd love to have you over for Snowfall dinner. My parents would be glad to have you over, too! How does that sound?”
Eirwen looked away for a second, just a second. When he looked back, Juke had put on his seatbelt and had his own simple suitcase next to him.
That was as much of a 'yes' as he was going to get.
Eirwen helped the rest of his students onto the bus (thankfully the giants had come to pick up their son a few days earlier) and after getting a few more tiny parcels shoved into his face, he made sure that Rhubarbara locked up the cabins.
“Alright, guys!” Eirwen buckled his seatbelt, “Let's get you all home for Snowfall, huh?”
The young collection of creatures all cheered and whooped. Especially Blitzelle. The young reindeer-deer could barely control his antlers and hooves, he was so excited.
“My Dad's finally coming home for Snowfall!” He exclaimed, Eirwen adjusting the rearview mirror,
“That's great to hear, Blitzelle.”
“He's missed the last four because of his job and stuff,” Blitzelle continued, “But I'm sure that he's going to make it this time!”
“Constanz!” Heidi tugged her floating sister down and tied her down with the seatbelt. She just wanted them to get back to their Vati in one piece, with their presents to him undamaged. “You need to sit down or else you could get hu--” The little European Wendigo blinked her burning eyes at the sight of a small parcel wrapped in simple paper. “What...” Heidi picked it up. “Is this? Beatrisa, where'd this come from?”
“I don't know!” Beatrisa scribbled in her notebook, “I'm trying to get started on the homework we have for break!”
The two sisters whispered and bickered, neither taking notice on Juke re-buckling himself into his seat.

***

Izumi's weekly reports made their way to the receptionist.
“Punctual and organized, per usual.” The receptionist kicked open a cabinet and tossed the forms in. They rapped their fingers over their keyboard, chuckling, “Spending your Snowfall in the pescetarian way?”
Izumi sighed, “I have to head home and call my parents first. My mother's going to be beside herself about me not making it back to Akatsuki this year.” It didn't help matters that Siklon had prior engagements that day and wouldn't be free until well after sundown.
A folder of papers and notes was set down in front of Guang. The phoenix blinked at them and then looked up. “You're still burning the oil? Even now?”
“But of course.” Abelard held up a book and flipped through several pages. “With everyone heading out early for some reason, I'm finding it so much easier to concentrate.”
“What are you talking about 'some reason'?” Rebekah said, wrapping a scarf around her neck (not that the dragon really needed it), “It's already Sn--”
“No, no.” Guang covered her nuzzle with a heated wing, “Let him figure it out.”
Abelard walked off. “The Dama Fristad canals are areas that could do with more surveillance.” He underlined the location in his book, “At least during the night.”
Abelard wrapped around a corner.
Abelard ran right back. “IT'S SNOWFALL!”
“HOW DID YOU FORGET?!” Rebekah matched him in volume.

Abelard shut the book and rubbed removed his glasses. “Ach, I've been so busy with all of this research. Wait!” He gasped and bolted to the records room to retrieve his belongings. “Mein Honigbienen are coming home for the holiday. My apologies for leaving so early. Gesegnet Schneefallt!”

Rebekah and Guang watched Abelard rush out of DFPD as if the devil himself was on his heels. Izumi pulled out his phone, curious to see if Siklon had tried to contact him in the name of a distraction. “3 seconds.” The Karasu-Tengu hummed. “2...”
“Zur Holle Damit! I still have to pick up their gifts from Necronia!!”

***

“I need three books of fairy tales!” An older woman shouted, “Two of French origin and one of German!!”
Rory Fontaine gave his sliding ladder a quick push and hopped on. He stopped it at one point to pick up two books and then pushed it to another area before rolling back to the counter.
“'Tales of Roses from the Versailles Court',” He explained two of the books, “And 'Accounts from the Goblin Market'.”
The woman looked at the offerings for a bit. She turned her nose up in the air. “Acceptable.”
No sooner had she paid and demanded that the books be wrapped did a mining-centauress barge over. “I need your best chick-lit book! Something that doesn't have too many pages and gets right down to the nasty!!”
“Of course.” Rory pushed his ladder and climbed on. His entire day had been just this: a flurry of demands and steps in and out of Pecan Pavillion. Rory appreciated the business but he couldn't ignore the cramp in his leg from the constant back and forth and up and down.
He wrapped the books nice and neat in purple paper and tied them in sweet lilac ribbon. As he handed them off, he thought to his own Snowfall parcels that needed to be sent off before the sun set that night. He hated being a bother to the postal services like this, but things had just been so busy.
A small yeti rushed up to the counter and grabbed for the cookie basket with icy fingers. “Mommy! Cookies, cookies!”
“Oh, stop that!” An older yet came along and took the smaller's hands away, “Those aren't for you, greedy thing!”
“No, no, it's more than alright.” Rory walked over and took two wrapped cookies out of the basket. “Here.”
The small yeti's eyes went wide and they grabbed the offered sweets; tearing into paper and cookie at once.
Watching them, Rory realized that his own little traveler would probably need a place to stay tonight. He hadn't been by in a week or so, though.

***

Deep in his basement room, Fane fell back into bed and popped his headphones into his ear and earhole. He dialed the volume on his crystal-caller to 'Max' and let lyrics of agony and grief wash over him.
Snowfall, Winter in general, was a time for death. The leaves, the fauna, the wind all danced the waltz of the dying by the time ice overtook the land.
The Grim Reaper was twice as busy during these times. Much to her chagrin due to Akeldama letting the halls of Judgement and Repence fill to bursting before dragging himself away from holiday merriment and doing his duties.
It didn't matter to Fane, though. His mother was out of Dama Fristad and that was the most important thing.
Fane opened his eye and saw topaz eyes sparkling down on him with a sharp smile underneath.
Gahiji looked down at Fane.
Fane gawked at Gahiji.
Gahiji 'boofed' a paw against the phantom's nose. “Honk!”

***

In the main room of the condo, Nephubos pulled themselves into a chair and glared into the shiny red labeling of a carton.
'I do not trust you and your thick but still runny consistency – Ah!' One of their tentacles knocked the container over and they quickly picked it up before anything could spill. 'I am sorry. Please speak whenever you are ready.'
“Gahiji, what the fuck?!” Fane slammed his door open and stormed up the stairs to the main area.
The sphinx hopped along after the phantom. He had a white scarf sprinkled in pearl snowflake buttons wrapped around his neck. “I wanted to see if you would come out with me!”
“The last time I went anywhere with you,” Fane shouted, stepping over the pillow that Mira had tossed to trip him, “We almost got our asses handed to us by some fucking hunters! Why don't you bother Silveste?!”
Gahiji pouted and plopped down on his rump.
“He went out courting today.”
“On Snowfall Eve?!” The phantom shrieked.
Mira's tongue dug around into a back of cheese-dusted chips and swallowed them down into the fleshy abyss around his waist. “Keep it down, you're ruining the flow of the room..!”
Fane wasn't dislodged. “Take Odysseus for all I care!”
Gahiji sighed. “Well...”

***

A pair of nice hips dipped low to a polished floor, sugar-sweet wings fanning out behind her.
Only during the Snowfall season could one have the chance to see Sugar Plum Fairy Stripper Troupe do their thing.
One of the chubbier ones (with the weight in all of the right places) sucked on a piece of candy cane and strolled around the tables and chairs full of drunk and rowdy spectators.
The Sugar Plum Fairies... Be one male or female, they had sugary pink hair swirled upon their heads. Their skin shimmered along their arms and collarbones; sugar ever present upon their skin.
The one on stage there and then removed her bra, the small article of clothing sewn from ice and powdered sugar, revealing the bouncing curves that the audience was clamoring for.
She fell upon her hands and knees. She was an evening wildcat: prowling towards her prey of the night.
“SHOW US YOUR PUSSY!!” Odysseus, already down for eight tankards of beer, shouted up at the fairy. When another one strolled by with a tray of beer and nuts, he grabbed the tray and shoved them out of the way to save his view.

***

“He said he...” Gahiji thought about it, “'Wanted to give the Sugar Plum Fairies some real nuts to suck on'?”
The door swung inward, stopping Fane from opening his mouth again.
“Ah, good!” Abelard looked around to see who was still in the condo. “Young ones--”
“I'm older than you by at least a century, cabron...” Mira hummed, his chest's tongue slurping up more chips.
“I need to ask a small favor.” Abelard continued on, ignoring the Mimic. “My girls are due here any hour now for Snowfall break and I need to go pick up the presents I ordered for them three months ago in Necronia.” He took a second to check his phone for the time and his wallet for his receipts. “Could you all just watch them for me until I get back? Bitte?”
“Yeah. Nah.” Mira held out his phone, “I have three gacha games on my phone that are all running special events for the holiday season. If I maximize my consideration time and take that into account all of the courtesy-currency I've been grinding throughout the year, I should be getting the rarest of rolls in all three. Worst-case scenario,” He set an alarm, “I get enough XP to level my mains up to S-Tier.”
All of the admittedly calm jargon whooshed right over and under their heads. It was Gahiji who asked,
“Couldn't you just... Buy them?”
Mira rolled both of his eyes. “You fucking whale... Anyway, fuckers, I'm staying right here.”
Abelard looked to Gahiji and Fane. Gahiji had brought his crystal-recaller (the tablet version of the crystal-callers) and swiped left at something.
“Sorry Abelard...” Gahiji deflated a bit, “I have some errands to run today, too. Maybe Fane --”
“Fuck. That. Noise...” Fane hissed, “If it's between tagging behind you and watching some spazz kids, I'll take my chances outside.”
“For heaven's sake...” Abelard rubbed at his temples. “Fine, just... Fine.” He had to think about this. Zach was off only Gott knew where, Gahiji and Fane were heading out, Mira was going to be as dependable as hemorrhoids, even if Odysseus was here he wouldn't dare to leave his daughters in that vulgar idiot's presence.
“Silveste is out as well... And Silas is visiting his family.” He sighed. Hell, the unicorn had asked him about decent courting approaches the night before. “Suraj?”
Mira's tongue, slick and gaining an orange stain, handed over a simple Snowfall card. It had a lone snowflake on top of a blue background.
Abelard opened it and read, “'Happy Dipivali! It is far too cold for someone born in India. I'm going to hang out in Ignis Fanis until the weather evens out'? Really? But this condo has perfectly fine heating!”
There was a creak and a rumble from beneath the condo before the heater chugged to a painful stop. “Fane!”
“Don't look at me, you old bastard.” Fane folded his arms and rolled his eye. “It's been doing that since this morning.”
That also explained Zach's absence. Abelard couldn't imagine the boy sneaking off to some Snowfall party.
Not... that Abelard would have had any problem with him doing such a thing! Zach was a young man: he needed to hang out people and nonhumans his own age.
His... own age.
Abelard shook his head. He needed to get the hell out of here and scrounge up some gifts for his daughters before they came home. But who could watch...
There was a familiar squishing of tentacles in the kitchen.
“Nephubos!”
Nephubos, who had been trying to get the carton of 'Egged-Nog' to impart upon them its secrets, looked up. 'Was this one's name being called?'

***

Faaria.
Faaria.
Faaria...
She had been pouring away over eighteen different housing proposals and relocations. This time of year was a bit tricky. Not hard, mind you, just... tricky. It was just a matter of making sure that everyone had a place to be and a bed to call their own.
Homelessness didn't exist in Dama Fristad, especially not during Snowfall.
Faaria saved her work. Her chair rumbled with the force of her protesting stomach. “Honestly?” She chastised her body, “We have been in reflecting for a month and you can't last six more hours?!”
Faaria did celebrate Snowfall and all that it encompassed, but she also observed her family's ancestral cultures and strands of faith. Mawlid al-Nabi: the Prophet's Birthday. The month leading into it was a time for reflecting and subtle celebrations until that final sunset arrived.
Then Faaria could resume her rightful slot as 'life of the party'.
“Thank Allah that I bought Snowfall parcels three months ago.” She went back to work with a sigh.
The moment that Tsukuyomi brought night to the sky, she was heading straight to her favorite restaurant in Ignis Fanis. “I've more than earned it.”

***

Walking along Milky Way Drive, one of CenterPointe's larger main roads, saw strands of ice and glass spun through the buildings and around all of the street-lights.
“It's all so pretty.” Gahiji bounced along, Fane grumbling all the way through. He forced his hands into his pockets and tried to bury himself into his hoodie.
“This sucks. And its cold. And I'm fucking bored. This is such normie bullshit...”
Gahiji stopped bouncing at a vibration from his saddlebag. Oh, his crystal-recaller.
He swiped left on something and then shoved it back inside.
“But Fane~!” Gahiji flicked his tail, “There's a whole bunch of fun stuff to do around Snowfall! And we can buy presents!”
Fane rolled his eye and walked on ahead. He stopped at the crosswalk. His bones were freezing, chilled by the seasonal flurry of ice. His own heart being about as inviting as frozen peas didn't help either.
The light was taking way too damn long to change, the fuck...
His core was pierced by the squealing cry of a dying beast of burden. It was far too ghastly to be something of the living world.
Wait.
No.
No...
The black carriage with the wheels of blue dragon's bones was towed around by eight horses built up from the skeletons of beast gone by.
“Oh God..!” Fane groaned, scrubbing down his face with his decaying hand.
“Hm?” Gahiji peeked in on his side of the screen. “What's up?”
“Fane!” Erysichthon stepped out of his carriage. The skeletal steeds knickered when their giant master disembarked in favor of addressing his teeny, tiny heir. “You're out and about and --” Dama Fristad's Lich looked at Gahiji and his eyes erupted into joyous fire. “Making friends! Good on you, kiddo!”
“Damn it, dad, that's not...”
“Right, right.” Erysichthon gave a nervous chuckle, “You're more like homies--”
“Ugh..!” Fane scoffed.
“Friendzillas--”
“Dad..!”
“He's your kemosabe!”
“Every time you talk,” Fane groused, “You make me wish that I had organs so I could die from internal bleeding.”
“Hi!” Gahiji bounced up and down, “I'm He Who Convenes with the Gods. But all my friends call me Gahiji so you can too!”
Fane looked upon the growing scene of amicability and could only groan and flip his hair in that way that angsty teens do. “I should have just gone with fucking Silveste.”

***

A tower of gold and white teddy bears, all boasting a snowflake-halo necklace for the season, reached high to the ceiling of a small gift shop. A few humans and nonhumans were mulling about as holiday music droned in the background.
The employee responsible for the display pulled his hair back and up into a bun as he admired his work.
“Now next we have the--”
“Greetings and other words of merriment for the Celebrations of Snowfall!”
“What the Christ?!” The employee fell back on his ass. He looked up and saw the culprit: a beyond-fancy unicorn looking down at him with a pointed hoof held up against his chest.
“I am the first son of the reigning King Alabastras and Queen Fuschiabolt Winterdust: Prince Silveste Winterdust and I am initiating the process of courting you as my bridegroom in expectation...”
The employee got to his feet, made sure that Silveste was still talking...
Took a step back, made sure that Silveste was still talking...
“... And, as such,” Silveste went on, “The process will be able to move forward in continuation along the desired conclu--” Silveste opened his eyes at the sound of a door slamming shut, a car engine roaring to life, and tires peeling out.
Blancher and Bruner, who had been purchasing Snowfall parcels to send back to their wives, didn't say anything as Silveste bemoaned his latest miss.
As long-winded as usual.
“This is a most disheartening of resulted chains!” Silveste whinnied in dismay, “That young human was the latest in a fortnight's worth of young masters and mistresses I have approached and they've all been swept away by some sort of prior state of having a duty to attend to..!”
This was hopeless. He had been trying for months now and hadn't even gotten anything as far as a secondary proposal for a date –
And now I, the writer, am following his long-windedness. Just a moment, please.
… And back to normal.
“I'm going to perish in a state of solitude and longing..!!” Silveste buried his muzzle into his fetlocks, his body trembling with every breath he pulled in and out.
Why wasn't this working? Why?! He was a prince! Princes get married and continue on legacies for those who came before them.
“Perhaps...” He whispered to himself, a fat tear leaving one of his eyes and rolling down his long face, “The promise of love isn't on course for me.”
Someone was touching him. Not with hooves but with... fingers?
“Alright, enough. Come on.” Silveste looked to his right to see someone urging him onto his hooves.
Silveste only allowed the motion eventually due to his curiosity. Why on earth... Who on earth... On who on Mars, for that matter?
Silveste, once he was standing again, turned to his sudden assistant and got a handkerchief held in his line of sight.
“Here.” Their voice was deep. To the naive ear it would have been brushed off as masculine. But to ears that could hear beyond, the depth was tempered by mead and cool spice.
Silveste looked beyond the handkerchief to its owner. They were tall.
Very tall.
And he could tell that lean muscle filled out the forest green suit they were wearing. Their hair was cut short, in a typical boyish style, but their expression was stoic and even. Not as emotionless as Zach's however, there was still subtle flavor in their earthen eyes hidden behind slim, square frames.
Their? No.
Her.
“Did you...” She said, folding the handkerchief up and gently patting it under Silveste's eyes, “Need help? If you let them dry then they'll make your coat dry and itchy.”
Silveste sniffled, lower lip quibbling. Why was he being like this? He was a prince. Princes don't cry. They set examples! So why was the touch of this woman, who was too tall, too stern, too strong, making him feel like this?
It had to be because of the rejection. That was it.
“Your Majesty.” Blancher and Bruner's hooves clopped against the tile floors of the store. They made it to either side of their prince, though Silveste's attention was taken by the strang, tall woman once more.
“You're too verbose.” She said, retrieving the damp handkerchief. She folded it into an even square and placed it back into her pocket. “It scares your potential suitors away.”
“B-but!” Silveste took a step. “This is what I know! What I've been instructed to follow and learn upon for further interactions!”
The woman shook her head, lenses flashing in the store lighting.
“It's not good enough.”
Silveste was taken aback. Who was this woman to tell him that... Oh, nevermind. “Alright, then.” Silveste waited for Blancher and Bruner to make sure that his mane was back to its splendor and magnificence. “Are you... implying that you could be of assistance to my cause? I can't imagine you take appointments or anything of that collection of natures.”
“Fine.” The woman pulled something out of her back pocket and whipped it over to Bruner.
Silveste dipped his head and Bruner lowered the item, a business card, low enough for him to see it.
“'Lan'?” He read out and lifted his head, “Is that your...”
Lan was gone.
A gust of wind tugged the door open and then closed.
There... had been a woman there just then. Right?
Maybe Silveste should go to a cafe or bakery or something. Get his blood sugar settled and his balance appropriate before heading back to the condo.

***

A cluster of snakes slithered and writhed over one another. A rounded, pudgy face glared through a pair of small rounded frames.
Tchiakovsky stood, charming, broad and tall, next to his tiny partner in DJ-ing/roomate. “Have you decided yet?”
“Aiya, don't rush me!” Fa Jiang kicked the incubus in one of his hairy shins with his roller skates. Tchaikovsky faltered away a bit. It didn't hurt at all, but he didn't want to be the one to say it.
One of the snakes of Fa Jiang's hair slithered down to the gorgon's ear and hissed something. “Hmph.” He nodded to the goblin standing at the bakery counter. “Alright. Wrap up some that cheesecake tower and toss in some truffles. Tchaikovsky, you want anything?”
“A slice of Charlotte, maybe?” The incubus quickly caught himself in some perceived slight, “If... that is being alright?”
“Of course it is, er bai wu...” Despite the brisk insult, Fa Jiang kept a careful eye on the goblin as they boxed the chosen orders.
“Wonder if the boy will even get a chance to eat any of this.” The goblin muttered under his breath.
Fa Jiang paid them, flipped them the bird, and signaled Tchaikovsky to carry everything out.
Fa Jiang skated a few feet ahead, wheels unhindered by the snow and ice. In his eyes, Snowfall was just more cold, more forced amicability – really, all he wanted to do was get back to their apartment. Put on some decent music, instead of all of this holiday crap, and gorge down some sweets.
“Fa Jiang?”
Fa Jiang turned to Tchaikovsky at the call of his name. “What is it?”
The incubus readjusted the packages in his arms. He dragged a hoof through the snow. Finally, he asked, “If it is not being too much of a bother... I would like to try making the Snowfall Noodles this year.”
Fa Jiang groaned. He didn't want to have to entertain the holidays anymore than he needed to. But, still, looking at Tchaikovsky's earnest brow and gentle smile. “Fine...” Fa Jiang rolled his eyes, “Guess we have to stop for groceries on our way home, then. Good grief, the lines are going to be a nightmare...”
“Spasibo!” Tchaikovsky spread his wings and shifted the packages into one arm, grabbing the largest with his tail. With his other arm he grabbed Fa Jiang and flapped into the air. “Aiya! What the hell do you think you're doing?!” Fa Jiang screeched, the two of them already up above street-light level. “Tchaikovsky~!! Those sweets better not end up squished against your stupid man-boob pecs!!”
 

34: Snowfall - Part 2

“Ah~!”

A mouth full of tiny sharp teeth and two big sharp fangs opened up wide. It clamped down onto Silas's arm. Unfortunately, he was still mute; no matter how much pain was hurled his way.

Snowfall for Silas meant coming home for his mother's... flawed attempts at family reunions. And those meant, for at least an hour for each, that Silas would be the one subjecting himself to the tortures of his cousins.

“So my son, the one leading that study-group in Akwukwo Ndu?” One of Silas's aunts started, “He's not able to make it here for Snowfall, but he's been telling me all about his breakthroughs. Says that he's been offered a book-deal, even. Ah...” She took the cup of cider that Silas's mother Charlotte gave her. “But enough on that~ What has little baby Silas been up to? Has he finally learned to talk again~?”

Silas didn't engage. He knew how to talk just fine. It's just everyone else in the house refused to listen to how he did it.

“Oh~!” Charlotte gave her husband a drink. “He's started studying at Keebalah! You know, that avaunt-garde culinary school? Run by Chef Ernest and blessed by the Cara Mellis?”

 

“Why do you want to leave and study?!” Charlotte screamed, tears in her eyes. Her claws were embedded into Silas's arms: keeping him from slithering out the door. “Don't you know how dangerous it is out there?! Why can't you stay in here? With me?!” Silas knew her eyes were frantic behind him. Blown wide with pupils twined into tight, infuriated slits.

“I'M ONLY TRYING TO PROTECT YOU!!”

 

Funny how his deciding to go to school was only seen as a positive when it came to these bragging matches.

Silas rolled his eyes as another one of his cousins climbed on top of his head. “Move horsey!!” They screeched right into his ear. Silas almost missed it when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Silas picked it out of his pocket with the tip of his tail.

“'Hey, hows Snowfall treatin ya?'”

Silas blinked down at his phone. Who was texting him? It couldn't be anyone at the condo (though it did have a semblance to Mira's abrasive voice).

His phone vibrated again.

“'It's Susannah, btw...

Can't believe you havent ever tried to text me.

Almost makes a girl feel unwanted.'”

Silas jumped straight up. His cousins slipped off of him, whining and hissing when they hit the floor.

“You big meanie!”

“Come back!”

Charlotte had noticed the disruption as well. “Honey?” She watched her son rush into the bathroom and lock the door behind himself. “What has him so hush-hush?”

Inside the bathroom, Silas sat down on the edge of the sand-tub and reread the messages, twice in fact.

He... should have asked what she was doing for the Snowfall break. For being so head-over-tail for her, he really was failing at every window of getting closer to her.

He tapped, 'Hey! Things have been so crazy, how are you doing?'

Silas's finger hovered over 'send' but... He deleted it. That wouldn't do. 'What's up? Nothing much to say, just dealing with family drama, lol.'

That message was deleted too.

He wasn't a 'lol' type of guy. He didn't need to waste her time, though; she was probably at some swanky Snowfall Gala. All red lips, thigh-high slits, and bedroom eyes. She had taken time out of a busy schedule to text him and he didn't have a good response?

Silas tapped again. 'Hi. Sorry for not sending anything before. Didn't know what to say. I...'

He glared at the screen.

'I never know what to say.

How has your break been?

I'm here with my parents and family.

They're driving me INSANE.'

“Silas?” His mother's voice slithered into the bathroom before he could hit 'send'. “Honey, you've been in there for a while~!”

It hadn't even been six minutes.

“Oh, hold on!”

No!

Charlotte opened the door and slithered in. The skeleton-key she had used was slipped into her sweater pocket and she stopped in front of her son. “Is everything alright? You wouldn't...”

Silas slid his phone into his pocket.

“Be trying to leave early or anything silly like that, would you honey?”

'No.' Silas quickly signed, looking to the floor.

Charlotte smiled. “Good. Now, no more texting. Let's go back to the party.”

Silas followed his mother back to the main room.

How was it that he missed Chef Ernest's yelling and snapping over the sweet, dulcet tones of his mother?

***

“Herr Baumgarten, I'm here with...”

'Hello and welcome!'

Eirwen looked down and saw a tentacle-bleb holding a carton of eggnog to their side like a close friend. 'Please, come in and partake of the egged-nog with us in the name of the, um... 'holeedai'?'

“Hijo de puta!!” Mira screamed at another bad roll before gnashing his teeth and rolling more digital currency.

Eirwen wrapped his arms around the girls and stepped back. “...The girls.”

“Where's Vati?” Heidi looked up at Eirwen with eyes full of worry.

Eirwen didn't even try to be patient; he had a bus full of children waiting to get to their families. He scrolled through the 'Parental Contacts' on his phone. “Hello?” He said, “Herr Baumgarten? I'm here with the girls.”

***

“Scheisse...” Abelard hissed, “Hold on just one moment.”

Abelard was at the counter of a higher-end toy boutique in Necronia. Something about the spirits of deceased mothers had them making the best toys.

“What do you mean my orders aren't here?! I placed them three months ago!!”

The poltergeist manning the register adjusted her sleeves and extended a claw-like hand to her register.

The device erupted in a frenzy of panicked clicks and taps.

“Unfortunately,” Said the poltergeist, “The shipment that your daughters' gifts would have been in has yet to arrive.”

Abelard ripped a groan out from his chest. Steam curled out from between his teeth. “Gott en Himmel, it's Snowfall Eve! How can they be running so late, I – “

Eirwen was probably still on the phone. Abelard pressed the phone back to his ear. “Eirwen, I trust Nephubos with mein honigbienen and give you full permission and authorit – Is that the shipment truck?”

Abelard and the Poltergeist looked out of the window. There was an approaching truck that bore a similar labeling to that of the boutique.

“Oh.” The Poltergeist hummed, “I suppose it is--”

“Eirwen, I have to go!” Abelard shoved the phone in his pocket and rushed outside. “Halt!!”

***

Eirwen listened to the call come to a sudden drop. Alright. How to do this? How to do this? “Heidi, Beatrisa, Constanz.” He knelt down to their level and decided. “Your dad is, um... Getting a few last-minute things ready for Snowfall.”

“He forgot our presents?” Beatrisa gasped, Constanz sinking in the air.

“What? No!” Eirwen lied, knowing that it was a lie because every single-parent that had a child in Fae Rock seemed to be faltering at the moment. “He's just out making sure that you all are going to have a great time on your vacation. So he just needs you three to stay with Nephubos here, alright?”

They all turned to see the tentacle-bleb dipping a tentacle into the eggnog. 'A sticky consistency...'

Heidi folded her slim arms and snorted out a hot puff of air.

“I'm...” Eirwen gave an uneasy laugh, “Sure he won't be more than an hour.”

***

Clawssie barely waited for the bus to stop before she bounded out to where her parents were waiting. They didn't live too extravagantly: their six bedroom-four bathroom villa in the Dark Wood sector of ShimmerGale was enough.

“Mama! Mama! MAMA!” Clawssie jumped up into the furry, muscled arms of her wrestler werewolf mother.

“Heya puppy~!” Clawssie's mother grinned at her with a fang-filled smile. “C'mon, food's getting cold and there are videos that need watching!”

Eirwen waved Clawssie off but was stopped from his return to the bus by Clawssie's human father.

“As always,” He said, handing Eirwen a thick envelope, “Thank you for keeping an eye on her.”

Eirwen gave a shaky chuckle. “Of course, she's a dear. But there's no need for tha--”

“Take. The. Envelope.” Clawssie's father insisted, still smiling.

“W-well, who am I to turn down a gift during this season? Thank you...”

Eirwen got back into the bus and buckled himself in. Should he?

It would be rude not to.

But what of curiosity's sake?

Eirwen peeled the corner of the envelope away and the moment he saw a stack of monetary notes, he closed it back up again.

***

The Sickle Avenue Caverns in Necronia's foothills were the next stop. Though the area was misty and still with death, harpies and ghouls were in a back-and-forth tizzy about the holiday season.

“Hermano!” Besame flew over to his older brother, the larger Camazotz (death-bat) hugging him tight.

“Gracias, Eirwen.” He said before they both flew off into their cavern home.

***

Eirwen never left a meeting with Klickshe's uncles without feeling woefully under-dressed and frayed down to the emotional bone.

As he helped the little Kobold take her bags to the sleek, modern townhouse decorated in minimalist lights, he knew this would be more of the same.

“Uncle Roderiche! Uncle Gille!”

Gille was an old Dullahan who quickly had to settle his head upon his shoulders in order to give Klickshe a hug.

Roderiche was the tiny Kobold's biological uncle (as if one couldn't tell with him being the only Kobold out of the two adults). He adjusted his slim designer frames and circled Eirwen. “Do us a favor and make good use of that gift card, Eirwen.”

“O-of course.” Eirwen sighed in defeat.

***

“One side; coming THROUGH!”

Eirwen pulled Pepper Mint and Winter Mint out of the way of a rickety cart full of raw ivory.

The Ivory Mines in West Miasmus were the dwelling place for Dama Fristad's Tooth-Fairy population. There were habitual visits to ShimmerGale in order to pay respects to the Father of Elves and Sire of Fae, but they needed the ivory in these mines to survive and work.

“Are those my boys?” The visage of a young man with swirling red and white hair fluttered in front of Eirwen with puffy, gossamer wings that always reminded him of pillows.

The whole of the Ivory Mines gave one a nostalgic sense of brushing your teeth before bedtime as a child.

“Dad!”

“Dad!” Pepper Mint and Winter Mint squirmed out of Eirwen's grasp and fluttered to their father.

The Tooth-Fairy Major held his sons tight and looked to Eirwen. “How's the Snowfall treating you?”

Eirwen smiled and gave a small wave of his hand. “It's going pretty well.”

He was already about to pass out on his feet.

The Tooth-Fairy Major opened his mouth to say something, a roar from one of the back caverns surging up to interrupt him.

“Oh! That'll be the wife!”

“Well, I wouldn't want to keep you.” Eirwen carefully backed up, not wanting to incur the wrath of any frantic Tooth-Fairy Majors or any ferocious Tooth-Fairy Minors.

***

After dropping Masumi off with her parents (her Moon Bunny mother and Jackalope father) at their hutch-complex home, Eirwen just had one stop left before he and Juke could get to his parents'.

He knocked on the door in front of him, stepping back into the hallway of an apartment building to wait.

The door pulled inwards to reveal the very zlatorog doe who served as the forensic scientist for Dama Fristad Police. “Blitzelle, mein baby.”

“Aw, mom!” The little reindeer-deer laughed and bounded over. As he was nuzzled down by his mother, Blitzelle couldn't help himself and his antlers and hooves started glowing bright.

“Dad's here, right?”

“Well, baby,” Blitzelle's mother winced, “About that...”

But Blitzelle slipped away into the large apartment and bounded around the big Christmas tree. There were nine particular ornaments scattered amongst the tinsel and lace: all strong, powerful reindeer fitted with red leather reigns and silver bells.

Blitzelle clip-clopped forward, eyes widening at one reindeer in particular.

Eirwen stepped up, noticing the unease slacking Blitzelle's mother's shoulders. “Are you going to be alright?”

“He's been late the last four Snowfalls.” She whispered, “Ze only zing Blitzelle ever wants is for his father to be here for Snowfall. And he can never do zat simple thing.”

“He works really hard on Snowfall Eve.” Eirwen offered, “I'm sure he tries his best to get here on time.”

But the zlatorog-doe shook her head. “I thought zat too. Ze first three times.”

 

The latest house that they stopped on was in a small town currently strangled by a blizzard and bad behavior.

Hooves tapped impatiently against the roof shingles and a warm red light flickered on and off. “Come on...” A snort. “Come on, come on! I can't be late again, please!”

***

“Nein, nein, nein!” Beatrisa exhaled a puff of steam as her frustration mounted. “Heisenberg's Principle is centered around the idea of indetermination! It's meant to be false!”

Heidi was sitting at the kitchen counter, looking at the small parcel that had been left for her on the bus.

She honestly couldn't think of anyone who would have left something for her aside from her father or sisters.

“Maybe Klickshe?” She turned the small gift around. But the wrapping was so simple, Klickshe wouldn't be caught dead with something like that.

While she mused, Nephubos gave his response to little Beatrisa's latest retort. 'But if you are taking into account the expanse of space then there will be a place where an object's mass is static compared to the velocity. In that regard, you could finally measure both and the Principle is null and void.'

“It can not work like that!” Beatrisa whined. Constanz bounced and floated through the air. She drifted over to where Mira was floundering further and further into bad luck.

“Come on!” Mira shouted at the latest bad roll, “This is impossible, I planned this out for months and--”

Constanz licked a wet, slobbery line up the side of his chest. “Get out of here!”

Constanz whined and floated off, allowing Mira to get back to his phone. “Come on, damn it...” He hit 'Roll' on each game.

Waited.

And.

And...

“Special Get!”

“Ultra Sparker!”

“Magician's Royale!”

“Holy... fucking... shit.” Mira gawked at his phone. Perfect rolls. “What the hell changed, I...”

Mira whipped his head over to where Constanz was slowly floating back to the kitchen.

His tongue lashed out and wrapped around the bubble and ragged her back next to him. “Espera!” When Constanz blinked up at him, Mira said, “You just became,” He pressed in for another roll, marking it rich once more, “My new lucky charm.”

***

Gahiji peered into a storefront displaying boxes of handcrafted chocolates and sweets. Bonbons, truffles, bars, all of them bearing either a opalescent finish or shimmering snowflake sprinkles.

“How about these?” Asked Gahiji, to which Fane shook his head.

“Why are you so hard-up on getting presents for everyone? It's not like they got you anything.”

Gahiji chuckled and gave a little shrug. “You don't give presents just to get stuff in return, silly!” Gahiji dunked his head into his saddlebag and grabbed his wallet with his mouth. “Mm gunna b'y s'me. Waf m' b'g!”

“No, damn it, come back!” Fane reached out for the sphinx but he was already in the store. Not without swiping left on his crystal-recaller though. Fane left the bag on the ground but didn't move. Not because he was watching it or anything, stupid! He just didn't see the merit in trying to move a bag that weighed as much as he did.

He leaned against it and, no, he definitely did not appreciate the warmth of the tanned leather against his frigid bones and dead flesh.

BZZZ!

“Son of a bitch!” Fane's minute bit of silence was broken by the damn vibrations of Gahiji's tablet. “Fucking...” He tore the device out of the bag, determined to bitch out whoever was on the other end. What did it matter if it wasn't his phone?! He was having a shitty Snowfall, the holiday already pretty damn shitty in of itself, he was going to give them a piece of his mind.

Fane pressed the home button and came face to face with a little doodle of Gahiji's shining face asking for a password.

“Gee, I can't possibly know what it could be.” Fane rolled his eyes before typing in 'SPHINX'. The screen opened up and Fane was able to read a text message.

His face softened up.

Another.

“Wait...”

One more.

“Hold on...”

'Gahiji, where ARE you?!'

'I thought you were coming to my party today!'

'You ALWAYS do this, oh my Ra...'

Why the hell were there so many? And they had been read, just not answered outside of a left swipe. But it was the texts sent by one 'Dark-Doggy' that had the most offense, most incensed tones in between the words.

'Are you ignoring my texts?

Answer me!

He Who Convenes with the Gods, answer me RIGHT NOW

GAHIJI!!!

You've been like this since we broke up, what is your deal?! Why haven't you grown up yet?!

ANSWER ME!

Are you coming to my Snowfall party or what?

I invited you THREE MONTHS AGO

What. The. Hell?!

Oh my Ra, I can't stand you

You're really brushing me off. As if you dumping me the way you did wasn't enough'

“I think I got enough chocolates for everyone!”

Fane shoved the crystal-recaller back into Gahiji's bag when he heard the sphinx bouncing out of the shop. He leaned against the back and pulled his scowl back onto his face, scoffing out, “Are you done yet, fat-ass?”

Gahiji nodded, several boxes balanced on his head. He dropped them into his saddlebag and picked it up. “Come on, let's go to the next store! More presents!”

***

Why is it that, when stuck in gridlocked traffic with cars kissing bumper to bumper, that people think honking one's horn to the point of hoarseness will make things flow faster?

T'would be a mystery to continue on until the decay of time. For now, however, Abelard was trapped in the muck of traffic. Thousands of cars full of millions of humans and nonhumans trying to get home or to work before night fell.

“For heaven's sake!” Abelard rubbed at his temples. He looked in the rear-view mirror at the bag of presents he had finally managed to get from that damn boutique. Though it didn't matter if he got the gifts if he couldn't get home on time.

The radio crackled on with the dramatic sting of the Dama Fristad News Station. Usually the radio would be handled by the city's premium DJs, but they had handled the morning broadcasts and were off for Snowfall.

“Good Evening, Dama Fristad!” A warm, charismatic voice said, “I'm Bailey Barnes of the Dama Fristad News team with a traffic report.”

Feathered wings flapped in the background. “Traffic on Lady Overpass is backed up for miles with everyone rushing home from Snowfall shopping or rushing out to pick up that last bottle of ShimmerCider! I pity the poor bastards stuck in this mess because we're looking at at least a delay of 2 hours!”

“2 HOURS?!” Abelard sputtered out, flabbergasted. Not thinking twice, he ripped his book out of his briefcase and flipped through it. There was one spell that he made good use of, albeit rarely. He just needed an opening.

An RV to his left, full of gnomes trying to head to Ignis Fanis for a Snowfall vacation, sped up and created a gap in the congestion.

Abelard reversed, pulled left, and sped towards the divider. His car clipped over it and went flying into the air.

“Ausfstieg und Haftung!” Abelard shouted. His eyes ignited in cerulean and viridian fire, magic surrounding the bottom of his car like the smoke of a vintage cigar.

The car smacked into the side of a building but it didn't crash so much as get a rolling landing on its tires.

Abelard wasn't a reckless driver, he swore he wasn't. He just sometimes needed a little bit of leniency with the laws of the road.

Or the laws of the sides of buildings like the one he was speeding across.

The car swerved to the right with a particularly fast turn and Abelard followed the momentum to speed off of the building and land on the walls of the conference skyscraper next to it.

As long as he got to the condo in the next hour, it wouldn't be so bad.

He just wanted to get home to see his girls. What kind of father wasn't around to spend the holidays with his children?

***

Wherever Gahiji walked he carried the warmth of the sun with him. That's what a lot of the whispers concerning him stated and the way that his paws left warm spots on the snowy sidewalk testified for it. “Ooh! Scarfs!” Gahiji said as he bounced. “Everyone can use a scarf! Let's go find a place selling scarfs!”

“Hey.”

“Mm?” Gahiji stopped but didn't turn around. Fane clicked his tongue, hunching his shoulders. His eye couldn't decide whether it liked the ground or his shoes better. “What would you be doing right now? If it wasn't for all this Snowfall shoppi--”

“You looked at my tablet? Didn't you?”

Fane's eye went wide. He didn't get to say anything, though, Gahiji speaking, “It's okay. You were curious. I'm not mad.” Gahiji didn't turn around: just stayed on that cool patch of sidewalk. “I just don't want to spend time with my family on Snowfall.”

“You're the one who's been hyping today up?!” Fane snapped at him, “Dragging me around, sneaking into my room, gawking at all the normie holiday bullshit! What the fuck do you mean 'you don't want to spend time with your family'?!”

“Are you spending time with your family?”

Fane choked on the spit gathering in his mouth. “Wh-where the fuck do you get off?!”

Gahiji went on, finally sitting down, “Life's funny, isn't it?” His back remained turned towards the young phantom. “How much we can stand from those around us. It's amazing... but sad. You could probably say I'm a hypocrite, but it's kind of hard to care with a hundred different hands and claws trying to get their own piece of you.”

The wind curled through the air above them. Snowflakes were just beginning to reform for that night's flurry.

“I just wanna spend time with people who don't see me as a little kitten or something that needs fixing, or a burden or a flame to be rekindled.”

Gahiji stood up and turned to Fane, smile present on his face. “I'd rather spend it with my new friends. That's why I wanted to come out here with you today. So, come on!” Gahiji padded over for a few beats until he got enough rhythm back to resume bouncing. “Let's go get the last of these Snowfall parcels!”

Fane didn't follow at first. The young phantom regarded his own hands. One of cold bone, one of dead flesh.

“Absolutely worthless.”

“Look, kid, I'm trying my best here.”

“Damn it,” Fane jogged after Gahiji, “Wait up, you fat furry fuck!”

***

 

There existed, in Dama Fristad, a chamber. It was immense in size, three infinitesimal mountains high, and the shifting walls changed from rich, violet velvet.

To crimson glass.

To rolling verdant sloughs.

To wisping, tickling smoke.

To pitch black, writhing tendrils.

And then to coursing, pure blue waters before restarting the cycle.

This chamber, with gossamer orbs of light that bobbed about and diamond-shaped pieces of ice that were neither cold nor hot streaking about, was in a location only known by six.

Three of the six were currently within this obscured chamber.

“Another Snowfall come and gone.” Akeldama yawned, the Shadow of Death reaching for a bottle of wine that had been left at one of his many altars across the world. He lifted the bottle's shadow; peeled it off from the floor and brought it to himself.

“No matter how many I watch the years herald in ice and death, even I can't deny it's beauty.” He knocked some of the wine's shadow back, chuckling, “Even if it means my workload doubling up.”

“And that is what assigned help shines for...” Trillium the Fair sighed from where he reclined on a laying sofa built from pearl silk and golden branches. “To relegate the work to so you can enjoy a mere several days without being god and father of everything.”

One of the diamond shapes lowered to the floor, the warm, thrumming floor, and stretched itself out until it stood upon three thin legs and reached out to either side with thin, needle-like arms.

It plucked and pinned over the warm floor to the long table covered in candied meats and glazed fruits and cakes of the season.

Trillium the Fair tipped his head back. The subordinate entity, this strange being of pure magic and energy, lowered one of the morsels close enough for him to take a bite. When the entity leaned back in waiting, Trillium glanced over to the vast pools where Siklon was currently resting.

Though 'rest' was relative with how much each of his eyes was expanding and contracting at random.

Trillium opened his mouth again, the fruit being brought close enough once more.

“Siklon.” Trillium swallowed, “What torments thee so?”

“IT'S...” Siklon hissed, the water around his chest snapping between boiling and freezing solid. “NOTHING.”

Trillium wasn't convinced. “You need music.”

“I DO NOT NE--”

“You!” Trillium jabbed his staff towards six descending shapes, each of them taking the form of the first entity of magic. “Sing something for our dear Araegisses-Alu.”

“DAMN IT, TRILLIUM...” Siklon hissed, but the six entities were already forming into a circle.

When they stood in position, an inhaling was heard as their smooth faces pulled into deep holes.

Their song was low and resounding. It peeked with rolling highs and dipped with building swells.

With all of the six 'singing' it was impossible to pin where the song was born and where it began to die.

But it echoed against the walls and ceilings.

One of Siklon's webbed hands clenched onto itself.

“Oh, look!” Akeldama said, “The noodles are here!”

Two of the entities rolled over two carts, each bearing a great covered bowl made of gold.

In front of Siklon's pool, a dozen of the magic forms carried over a covered golden bowl the size of an oil-tanker.

“Maybe this'll get them to calm the hell down.” Akeldama sighed, feeling the tensity between the other two guardians crackle like approaching lightning.

***

“Brr!” Rory pulled his elderberry winter-coat closer to him. He shivered from a stray breeze blowing right through him. The Snowfall flurries were starting to kick up so he wanted to find his young friend as soon as possible. But, before that, he dropped off the last of his Snowfall parcels into an emergency postage chute.

Rory inserted the proper payment (approximately $32.53) and left behind a platter of homemade Winter's Milk. The sweet, warming elixir would hopefully ease the burden of a last-minute flurry of frigid flight.

With the parcels sent off, Rory turned to his main focus. “Where are you right now?” He asked the frosty Snowfall air.

A wisp of ice curled through the air, catching upon his curls. Rory turned and followed the wisp as it traveled down a small alleyway.

“Hello?” Rory gave a call. “Is anyone in here?”

He felt a might silly calling out to nothing, but he felt in his heart of hearts that he was on the right track.

Rory stepped deeper in. His focus burned on finding the child with the icy hair and quiet countenance.

A familiar sliver of darkness, that persistent Nightmare who had no understanding of letting things go. He lurched forward.

A ball of ice shot through the air and pelted the Nightmare in the face. He hissed and slithered away into the darkness just as Rory turned around. “Oh, thank goodness!”

The child of ice and snow was there in front of him. “I wanted to see if you wanted to spend Snowfall at my house. I have plenty of food to share and we could watch a holiday mo--”

The child quickly padded over and took Rory's hand.

Rory smiled, the gesture warm enough to melt away the cold in his hand.

***

Eirwen locked up the bus and tossed the keys in his pocket. “Come on,” He led the way to the small house nestled between a bakery and a motorcycle shop. “My parents should be expecting us.”

Juke stopped in his tracks.     “I'm gonna bother them...”

“Juke...” Eriwen knelt down. “My parents are going to love having you over. You don't have to worry. Now,” He stood, “Come on, let's get out of the cold.”

They walked to the front door. One knock later and a sweet voice asked, “Who is~ it?”

“Mom, it's me.” Eirwen chuckled. The door opened out and a ghost flew out. Bouncing curls, a cozy apron, pretty pumps, and several spirit orbs made up their persona. “Eirwen, honey! You've finally made it!”

“Hi mom.” Eirwen rubbed the back of his head, “Sorry for being late. Had a few delays with dropping off the kids.”

“Applesauce!” Mrs. Leadhooves waved off the concern and pulled at his son's arm. Of course, his ghostly arms slipped through Eirwen and Eirwen led Juke into the cozy home.

“Oh~!” Mrs. Leadhooves floated down to get a good look at the little creature under the sheet. “Who's this little old jitterbug?”

“This is Juke.” Eirwen gently urged him forward towards his mother figure. “And he's going to be spending Snowfall with us.”

“Oh, that's the cat's pajamas! We would love to have him!” Mrs. Leadhooves grinned down at Juke. “You wanna help me bake some cookies, little cutie? Doesn't that sound absolutely berries? Come on.”

Mrs. Leadhooves floated into the kitchen, Juke rapidly following behind him on his spindly legs. “As soon as these come out of the oven, we're gonna sit down for dinner, boss man!”

The pig-faced orc sitting on the couch gave an affirmative hum of “Mm,” but, otherwise, went back to reading his newspaper.

Mrs. Leadhooves led Juke away to the kitchen, giggling about cookies and Santa while Eirwen took a seat next to his dad on the couch. He deflated into it: his shoulders slumping and his muscles finally easing up. Mr. Leadhooves looked over from his newspaper. Eirwen was too tired to follow his dad's motions. He just sat there until the couch dipped again and something cold was held in front of his face.

When Eirwen opened his eyes to see a can of Orcenblaut Stout in front of him. He took it and saw his father with his own can.

Two pull-tabs were cracked at the same time.

Two cans were knocked back at the same time.

Both Mr. Leadhooves and his son gave a satisfied exhale at the same time.

“Thanks Dad.”

“Mm.”

35: Snowfall - Part 3

“Mm-hm.”

“... sleepy...”