Lazy Afternoons

By lettersofsky

This beach trip wasn’t something Duelek had necessarily agreed to, nor was it something he’d have ever suggested himself, but when the vote turned a majority of three to one against him he’d known better than to complain about it.

The others had been excited about the trip, he hadn’t wanted to ruin any of that for them.

So instead he’d shrugged and let himself get swept into preparations, keeping his thoughts to himself of the distance they’d have to travel and just how long they’d be gone. He even, begrudgingly, accepted the crutch Mihal insisted on him bringing to use on the trip, knowing that his twin meant well and was only concerned over whether he’d make the journey with any kind of ease without the assistance.

Something Evander pounced on within seconds of the masked Weaver suggesting it. The traitor.

But used it he had and left the mountains they did, arriving at the beach-front after the better part of a week’s travel with Duelek’s slower pace.

And he supposed the beach was nice, that the sea breeze was fresh in a different way and the sound of the waves crashing had a certain beauty to them. Sand though? That could go straight to the depths.

The shifting, unstable substance was nothing less than difficult for him to stand on his own, near impossible to find a good purchase with his crutch and it meant that Duelek had been reduced to a slow crawl of walking whenever he tried to go anywhere on his own.

Which had led to the carrying thing. Which he still wasn’t talking to Evander after no matter what the great big sunning idiot wanted.

“Y-you c-cuh-can’t just ignore m-me foreuh-forever.”

Duelek flipped a page of his book, tucked under the shade of the parasol his twin had set up to shade their little patch of beach before taking off with Orrin to go see the rest of the shore line.

Was this an entirely petty and childish action?

Yes. Did he care? No.

Ignoring the Robber was the name of the game.

“Cuh-come on,” Evander was whining in his own way; more of a grumbling than a whine but Duelek was still going to call it such. Especially when the Robber reached out to bat at his ankle with a lazy claw regardless of the collecting mist that bloomed at the action, flaring upwards and outwards as if that would do anything to deter him. “You’re just bee-bein’ s-stu-stupid now. I h-hah-haven’t even invited y-you into the w-wuh-wuh- into the sea yet.”

“I ain’t goin’ in the ocean.”

It’s a sharp statement, firm and unyielding and it catches Evander’s attention immediately, the Robber narrowing his eyes at Duelek as he lifted his head, peering at the Weaver even as Duelek curled tighter into himself.

“Th-that wasn’t like you.”

Duelek sank his fangs into his bottom lip, refusing to say anything on the matter and remaining a stiff, tense curve of spine, the ebbing of his tail startling still for once.

It doesn’t stop Evander from pressing himself between the Weaver and the book in his hands, an effort greatly assisted by the Weaver allowing himself to be moved and shifted so the Robber could lean against his front, his back kept relatively upright by the bag he was leaning against.

Eye contact was still a thing that was being avoided though. Duelek kept his gaze directed pointedly elsewhere than Evander not particularly up to-

“Alright.”

He blinked. Blinked again. Flicked an eye to Evander, one of his whiskers raising in an inquisitive line as he hummed a soft “what?”

“T-that’s alrigHt,” the words were accompanied by a shrug as if it were that simple and Duelek only felt his brow furrow further at the other. “Look,” Evander sighed, reaching a claw up to the Weaver’s cheek, one of his fingers spread to ensure the nail of it was resting over the skull-shaped gem between Duelek’s eyes. “I’m n-not go-going to make you d-d--do someth-somtethin’ you d-don’t w-want to. I wouldn’t d-do tht t-t-to you.”

Duelek blinks at him a moment more, breathing a havy sigh and letting the tension bleed out of his shoulders. “I be knowin’ that, I be trustin’ ya that much.”

“Good,” Evander scoffed, pressing himself closer to the Weaver now that the parasol’s shade was blocked the sun that had been warming him since he’d returned from his dip in the ocean waves. “I-if you d-duh-didn’t then w-we’d have a p-pruh-problem.”

“Got ‘nough of those as is,” Duelek hummed, turning his face to nuzzle into the palm of Evander’s hand. “Like how ya ain’t just lettin’ me read none, got me the nice new book and now ya ain’t even gonna being ta let me enjoy it. Rude.”

“Gee-give it here and I-I’ll ruh-ree-read it.” Evander huffed, reaching out to the book the Weaver was still holding, brow furrowing when Duelek only held it further out of his reach. “Oh c-come on. Y-you’re not goin’ to s-suh-say anythin’ about my n-nah-narr- about how I r-read now, a-are you?”

“This ain’t a book ya should real be readin’ aloud in public spacings.”

Evander paused at his response, the empty space of where a nose should have been scrunching up. “I d-didn’t get you an e-e-erotic thing again, duh-did I?”

“No,” Duelek snorted, pulling the book closer so Evander could clearly see the bloody scene depicted on the back cover about the blurb. “One a them murder-mysteries, the real gorey ones.”

“Why d-didn’t you s-say so earlier?” Evander grumbled, pushing himself up to glare at the Weaver. “I w-wanted you t-to not be b-buh-bred. Not deal w-w-with somethin’ you h-hate.”

“I ain’t bein’ ta hate ‘em,” he shrugged the words, opening back to the page he was on and continuing to try to follow the narrative. “They’s just bein’ difficult, yeah?”

“Well how f-fuh-far are you?” Evander slumped back on top of the Weaver, the motion gentler than it might have appeared to outside eyes. “Maybe w-we ca-can s-switch them o-ow-out.”

“Not too far, only just real started.”

“Then what were y-yoU d-doing’ w-while I wuh-was s-swi-swimmin’?”

“Watching.” A simple admittance. He didn’t see anything wrong in saying that he’d been watching Evander in the ocean instead of focusing on anything else.

“W-what? Worried I w-wuh-was g-goin’ to d-dr-drown?” The scoff is haughty and amused, full of disbelief that the Weaver would even conceive of such a notion.

“Yeah a little.”

That stopped the Robber.

Evander lifted him Self back up to his elbows, peering down at Duelek’s face and the genuine honestly of his answer.

“You’re stupid.” He declared after a moment, quiet and soft in a way that Duelek had firmly labelled as fond.

“Love you too,” He returned, rolling his eyes before tapping the empty nasal cavity on Evander’s face. “Now stop it, yeah? I’m tryin’ ta read.”

It looks for a moment that Evander’s going to say something more but instead he stays quiet, huffing to himself and settling back over Duelek, ear flattening over the thin, airy, open material of his shirt and a hand fisting in the thick fur at the Weaver’s hip.

Duelek waits a moment for the Robber to get comfortable, then another to see if Evander was going to say whatever thought he’d kept silent.

He doesn’t but it doesn’t stop the day from being a pleasant one, even if Duelek does huff and bristle at the fact he needed the Robber to carry him off of the sand when they all finished their sunning for the day.

~

The next day passed in a similarly lazy fashion, waking up late without any reason to need to be awake before the morning sun, though Duelek was sure if not for the promise of fresh fruit to work with for breakfast, Evander would have dragged him back into the warmth of blankets as quickly as he was able to.

After breakfast, closer to brunch really, they went their separate ways for a bit, Evander to enjoy the ocean and the heat of the sand beneath his talons while Duelek remained on steadier, firmer ground. He managed to get himself into some kind of basket weaving class which was an odd scenario to find himself in, odd but enjoyable but for the Eater he’d been sharing a work table with and seemed to grasp that his distracted, non-existent answers weren’t invitations to continue talking. The baskets were quaint things at least, not really something he could make back home in the Mountain Pass, but a nice craft to now have tucked away into the back of his mind all the same.

And it had felt good to accomplish something after the struggle he’d had even getting to the resort they were staying at, the beach-front and it’s wide expanses of sand and sea; the small victory was appreciated as a little bolster before he attempted to navigate the unsteady mess that was sand underfoot.

Or so Duelek had told himself before picking every possible excuse he could to avoid stepping off of wooden floorboards to the sands surrounding the cluster of buildings and deck.

Which was how Evander found him at the end of the day; lounging in one of the chairs set on the deck surrounding one of the buildings and reading in the low, lingering sunlight, content to bask and stretch his limbs out with something to focus the majority of his attention on. The fact that he had ensured the graphic scene depicted on the cover was going to be visible to whoever might have looked at him ensured that he’d been left alone, for the most part, unbothered by all but the most determined of friendly strangers and other kinds of unwanted attention.

A Robber striding over to him, dropping onto the chair next to him and stretching out along his side only strengthened the idea that he wasn’t someone to pay any mind to. A bonus to bringing Evander anywhere; it was easy to slip into the background while the more dramatic of them stole all the attention for himself.

Well earned of course. Anyone would be stupid to take their eyes off of a predator, to not give something dangerous the respect it was well due.

Evander chose that moment to yawn, the motion a slow, lazy thing that showed off his fangs in full before his jaw closed with a sharp, audible click and he rested his chin on Duelek’s shoulder, ignoring the way the Weaver recoiled at the waft of his breath.

“Least thing ya could do is warn a body before ya gonna breath dead fish on ‘em.”

Evander, as expected, rolls his eyes at the gripe, choosing to ignore him. “Hi.”

“Hey yaself,” he pauses a minute to think on if he wanted to wind his own arm around the Robber’s form before dismissing it. A bit too exposed, a bit too out in the open of the day for his comfort, later perhaps, once the night had set in with it’s strange, foreign warmth-chill and brightened darkness. “Ya enjoy ya day?”

“Sat in a ruh-reef for a f-f-few hours,” Evander had none of his reservations about whether anyone could see them or not and was steadily shifting until he could sprawl out on top of the Weaver, trapping Duelek in place heedless of the amused huff it got out of him. “The fuh-fish w-wuh-were pretty.”

“That’s sounding nice,” for Evander at least, Duelek couldn’t imagine being surrounded by water on all sides and not having the worst time in his life. “Glad ya having a nice time a things.”

“You?”

“Nothing too interesting like, mostly tried ta avoid being talked at all flirtatious like by some lonely folk, ya know?”

“I’m such-sure they have m-more taste than that.”

“Rude,” the word was spoken around a surprised laugh, the sound pulled from the Weaver’s chest, and Duelek’s book dropping against the empty space of Evander’s nasal cavity. “Be nice at me, know I ain’t matching up ta most but I gotta be worth at least a second glancing from some lonely bodies looking for any attention all desperate like, yeah?”

Evander furrowed his brows, stared up at Duelek a moment before answering with a short, simple “no.”

“There’s being goin’ all my prospects then,” the Weaver sighed, playful and enjoying the banter, leaning back comfortably into his seat. “Doomed ta being alone with your ass ‘till I die then I guess.”

“As i-if I’m g-guh-goin’ to share my h-he-heater.”

“You’re beng the worst again.”

“I kn-know.”

“See iffin I make ya anything again then.”

“You will.”

“Ya can stop sounding so certain all the time, yeah? Save some for the rest a us.”

Evander huffs a sharp noise that might have been a laugh or might have been a scoff, Duelek couldn’t be sure, and settled against him more fully, pressing an ear to his heartbeat and going near dead limp. Thankfully he remembered that Duelek still had to breath and didn’t crush the Weaver’s lungs, small miracles.

He was a comforting weight, a line of cool skin after the heat of the day, even if Duelek was sure there were people shooting glances towards them, setting his nerves alight with the want to move and escape somewhere else.

He wound his arm around the Robber then, sinking claws into salt-soaked hair and forced himself to breath through the feeling of eyes on him, turned his focus back to the book in his hand and let himself ignore everything but the scent of ocean waters and the familiar weight pressing him into the here and now.

It was a nice here and now, pleasant and safe with someone he cared about. What more could he want out of a day of rest? 

Untilted

By LavvytheJackalope

The sound of a body slamming into the sand was dull, but rang out clearly in the silence of the ring of dragons watching the spectacle. In the midst of them, a tall, bright pink starrobber was on his back in the sand, wincing as a shooter placed their foot squarely on his gut. Sock loomed over their defeated quarry, not even bothering to pay the squirming dragon under their foot any attention as they waved at the gathered crowd. Sock didn't flinch back from the clear disapproval of the dragons surrounding them as they grinned, malicious,

"Come on, is that all you've got?" They taunted the crowd at large, trying to provoke a response from them. Most simply drew back, or glanced away. "No one's gonna do a thing, huh? Just gonna stand around and disapprove~?"

One voice piped up, sheepishly,

"C'mon, let him go..."

"Oh~?" Sock sneered, turning to settle their mismatched gaze on another robber - smaller than the one currently under their foot, a stitched together multicolored abomination that stood out against the sand and surf behind her. She looked like she was barely staying together - one arm had already been lost, and black bone was exposed on the back of her tail. She practically flinched when Sock grinned at her, like a hungry predator.

"Are you gonna make me?"

"Well uh... no...."

"Then why should I?" Niles frowned, fidgeting, clearly growing more nervous... until a new voice piped up from the crowd,

"Because I'll make you." Sock turned their gaze again to see a pitch-black shooter stepping forward. He was about the same size as Sock, but with twice the fluff. He looked a bit like a misplaced shadow, out of place against the bright white sand... well, except for the bright blue swimming trunks. Pitch glowered at Sock, even as the rainbow shooter just behind him muttered something urgently to him, clearly trying to dissuade his friend from this inadviseable course of action. Luckily for Sock, Pitch didn't deem fit to listen, confidently stepping right up into Socks space.

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" He growled, bright pink eyes burning like coals. Sock grinned even wider, clearly starting to get excited.

"Come try it then!" They goaded "Come move me~"

Pitch didn't hesitate, charging forward even as Indra slapped his forehead behind him. Sock didn't move, staying planted in the sand, still pinning the pink robber, Galahad (who at this point was mostly glad that he didn't need to breathe anymore). It looked as if Pitch was planning on just tackling Sock off of him.. until he feinted at the last moment, side stepping before leading into a powerful right hook that brought one thick paw up across Socks jawline. Sock had been prepared to stand their ground being tackled, and so perhaps they hadn't had time to react.... despite the calm way their eyes had followed every movement. So the blow connected perfectly, hard enough to make a sharp sound that had the crowd silent again after a collective gasp. Sock didn't move. Their body stayed stock still, like a stone, even as their head moved with the strike. Pitch blinked, wide-eyed. Unprepared for a sideways blow, that punch should have at least sent them bowling over. But he could feel it through his fist and up his arm - how firmly Sock stood, unaffected. There were a few beats of silence, before Pitch drew back, blinking.

"What....?" He sputtered. Sock sneered,

"What? Thought you were gonna make me move?"

Pitch snarled before lunging again. This time Sock did move, stepping to one side to grab Pitchs arm when he lashed out. What followed next was a series of grapples and counters - less cool to look at than your average action play, but very real and very tense. Ultimately the tangled pink and black dragons ended up in a plume of kicked up sand, and when it cleared, Sock was holding Pitch by the scruff and one arm pinned behind his back, face down in the sand while Sock growled,

"That all? Just a couple tricks? Come on, you can do better than that!!" They stood, forcing Pitch up with them as they marched him towards the water. There were murmurs of concern from the crowd that turned into gasps of dismay as Sock took a knee to Pitchs back to force him down again - face first into the waves, where they held him. He was only there a moment before Sock caught movement out of the corner of their eye, reaching their free hand up to grab the tip of the rainbow shooters long tail as he whipped it at them. Caught, Indra looked startled, but attempted to sound authorative anyway, barking,

"Enough! You proved your point, let him up!" In response, Sock smiled sweetly, before yanking on Indras long tail, swinging him hard enough that he was sent flying out into the water, splashing into the waves. But he seemed to have started a chain reaction, because no sooner was Indra dispatched than a bolt of freezing magic grazed Socks shoulder. They turned in time to see a second bolt of ice come flying at them, and they were forced to step aside to dodge it. Pitch pulled himself out of the saltwater, coughing and sputtering as Sock faced their latest assailant - a pale, lithe little dasher lady. Her hands were icing over as Sock watched, forming into veritable gauntlets of solid ice.

"That's enough." The dasher, Delphine, warned. This time the new challenger wasn't alone, and the rest of the crowd seemed ready to jump in to back her up. Apparently threatening to drown another dragon was a step too far for most of them to remain bystanders. Even the little one armed robber Niles seemed ready to throw down. Sock smirked, straightening up and cracking their knuckles, stepping forward.

"All on one? Perfect. Maybe now I'll actually get a challenge."

But just as it seemed like it might turn into an all out brawl, a new voice rang out, not from the crowd, but from behind it.

"If it's a challenge you want, I'll oblige."

Something about that voice commanded the attention of all who heard it, and the heads of those in the crowd turned as dragons stepped aside to let the newcomer through; a wide, well built dragon with an easy demeanor. Neither his voice nor his stride betrayed any of the tension that the rest of the potential combatants held as he stepped up with a loose grin. Sock couldn't recall seeing this dragon in the crowd before… when did he get here? In any case, with that demeanor, either this guy was a flat out idiot… or Sock was finally going to get a real fight.

Upon closer inspection, the new challenger was… smaller than he seemed at a glance, shorter even than Sock, though that wasn't too unusual, for a crafter. Sock might have found it laughable, were it not for the newcomers unshakeable presence.

"Quite the little rabble rouser, aren't you?" He commented, leisurely. Who the hell was this guy to call anyone else little?? "Been hearing a bit here and there and everywhere about it…" Sock grinned again.

"Oh, my reputation precedes me?" They sneered, "Another knight in shining armor, here to end my reign of terror, huh? That's what got all this started in the first place, you know." They tilted their head towards Galahad, who was being tended to by a couple other pretty boy looking dragons who appeared to be his friends. "Gonna force me to reconsider my evil ways?"

The crafter seemed nonplussed, even as Sock began to circle like a hungry cat, casually rolling one of his shoulders.

"Heh, I'm not really the type to force anything," Sock, tired of waiting and already bored with a potential heroic speech, took their shot, lunging forward to try and grapple the crafter… only for him to easily step out of the way, casual as passing a stranger on the road. Sock, baffled, barely had time to register the challenger shifting his stance, rolling his other shoulder in a wind-up to land his own blow. It all happened in half a second, but for a moment, Sock swore that he changed somehow. Later they would wonder if it was merely the byproduct of head trauma from what came next, but in that instant they swore he was different, bigger, with flame between his horns as he continued, "...but hey, maybe I'll make an exception. Catch you later."

"Wa-" In the next moment, Sock was hit with a force so explosive that it literally, not figuratively, sent them flying. Their brain couldn't even keep up with what was happening as they were sent spinning into the distance, hitting the surface of the sea with such force that it didn't even slow them down, skipping across it like a smooth stone, away and into the horizon.

There were a few beats of stunned silence from the assembled dragons on the beach, amazement holding for a few moments before fading into relief, and then a cheer. The atmosphere lifted at once to one of celebration, everyone eager to return to their games and cooking out now that the imminent threat was gone. Pitch pulled Indra out of the water, and Galahad got back on his feet, and the crowd turned to their merriment again, eating and playing and partying by the fire until well after the sun set. 

Pauline Das Cute Stop It

By GayClub

For most folks, a potential pirate ship on the horizon was a worrying sight - oh what if this or that, are they here to steal my shit? For Pauline though, it was potential. Not that she was gunning for being whisked aboard a pirate ship to run around done pirate crimes, she was quite happy where she was, with her current job and life and such.

Someone important to her just so happened to be aboard a ship that swung by this coast, and each time a ship with particularly large sails was spotted a few hours out she rushed herself down to the beach, grabbed an icecream or something on the way down, and unfolded her kinda crap little monocular. It didn’t let her see too far, at least not far enough she could see who was aboard any boats, but just enough she could gauge whether she was going to see Nail sometime soon.

She sometimes wondered if he ever did the same, if they had monoculars on the ship...if he knew how to use one.

Pauline stifled a giggle as she waited in line for icecream, imagining Nail fumble with a monocular in those massive hands of his, managing to unfold it then putting it up to his eye the wrong way around… he was a lovely man, and quite a sight to behold, but his head was a little empty sometimes.

...Most of the time.

Not to any kind of detriment, Pauline recounted a few moments of his last visit as she stepped forward in line, a warm smile lighting up her already bright and cheery expression. She snapped back to reality a minute later when she was up in front, and had been asked what she’d like.

“Oh! Single scoop, mint chocolate chip please - um, on a cone, just a plain one!.”

She was quick to rummaging through her bag and producing the exact amount - she’d done this enough times she was always well prepared so she would take less of everyone’s time. It took barely a minute for her order to be served up, and she was on her way again, damn near skipping down to the beach.

She’d finished up her treat and was licking her fingers clean by the time her feet hit sand, and she idly took in how many people were around - it was a hot day, a really hot day, so no wonder there was a huge turnout. Families, couples, even just some folks bringing their animals out for a little run around.

Her eyes lingered on the couples a little longer than she’d have liked, being hit with a pang of...she wasn’t quite sure what. Longing? She really did miss Nail, he’d been gone a little longer than she had thought he would be. She wasn’t mad at him or upset, being at sea meant he couldn’t have any kind of schedule and all that. Still, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t long to see him again, for whenever his ship came back round.

She strode straight down towards the sea, zig zagging between people on towels and running children, eventually making it to the waterline and wading out to her waist. Her shorts were definitely soaked through, but the spares in her bag, which she hiked up to under one arm, made that of little concern.

She unfolded the monocular, struggling a little with the wonky mechanism, having to give it a couple of firm smacks before it was in working order. Her glasses made everything a little trickier, but eventually she got the monocular settled right so she could peek through and check the incoming ships.

She scanned each one, there only being four made it easy work, and as much as she had really gotten her hopes up this time...none of these looked familiar. She double checked, triple checked even, but eventually folded down the rusty little thing in her hands, tucked it back into her back, and made her way back to the shore, ignoring how much sand would be clinging to her for the next forever.

While she was out though, she’d make a day of it. The docks were nice, and they were a wonderful place when there were a lot of excited people about. She found a public bathroom to change her clothes in, just tossing the wet shorts in a trash can. She wasn’t too fond of them, and she wasn’t keen on lugging wet clothes around in her bag, so it was a sacrifice that just had to be made.

The docks were fairly busy - stalls set up while some people stared at the boats in awe, some fishermen showing off their catches or their tools, there was even one guy stood aboard his fishing boat giving an impromptu educational demonstration of how the whole thing worked.

Oh hell yes.

Pauline was over there in a flash, bouncing on her toes excitedly as she watched the fisherman, who just so happened to be a Fisher, pulling on a net and explaining the material - how it was sturdy but it didn’t tangle, and how anything smaller than an adult fish would slip right through the holes in the net, so as not to deplete the ocean, and keep the cycle of life going.

People started to wander off as he got to the more gritty aspects of how to prepare a fish, not that he was demonstrating, but Pauline stayed, fascinated by the man’s passion and drive.

She was only roused from how enthralled she was by the whole thing when she was tapped on the shoulder. She blinked in surprise turning around to greet whoever it was - then leaped forward and threw her arms around them.

“Nail!” She beamed wide, eyes lighting up as she was caught, the huge Robber carefully lifting her so he could wrap his arms around her properly. She wiggled just a little in his grasp so she could scoot up and press a kiss to his jaw, and then to his lips when he tilted his head just right. “I didn’t see your ship!”

“Went through the other uh…” He made a gesture with his ears. “Not the main dock, bad news for our ship.”

“Oh! Yes that would make sense.” She wiggled again, this time so she could wrap her arms around his neck. “How long are you here for?”

“Didn’t actually ask...I should go do that.”

“Right now? Or do you have a little time?”

“I’ve got time for you.” Nail responded, giving Pauline a smooch on the nose. “You got something in mind?” He Pauline down gently, who still reached for his hand once her feet were planted firmly on the ground.

“It’s a nice day and there’s a market up.” Pauline gestured at the dock, all the stalls that had cropped up serving food, selling trinkets, and even doing little workshops. “I was thinking we could have a wander? Get lunch?”

Nail took a look over the market as it had been gestured to, nodding before he even looked back to Pauline. “Yeah, sounds fun.”

With that, Nail’s tall-and-wide ass was nearly pulled over by the hand as Pauline rocketed off towards the food stalls, babbling about how it smelled really good and she wanted to try everything. 

Counting Stars

By minpha

They hadn’t planned to get this far. In fact, even asking in the first place had been nothing short of than a miracle of Hyth’s grace. With the midday sun beaming down upon the packed beach full of adults and children alike, Lucian hobbled over the burning sands, his pads slowly beginning to sizzle with each step, until he finally found a gap that would suffice. Lugging an umbrella, picnic basket, books and towels and balancing them with limited eyesight (he was short and the pile in his arms was noticeably taller) in the heatwave ravished him of all strength as he collapsed in a heap, everything falling around him.

Unable to bear the light searing into his eyes as he lay on his back, staring at the cloudless sky in defeat, he rolled over, busying himself with the small preparations. The other wasn’t here yet so he still had time...That was until a sudden shadow was cast over it all. A chill pirouetted down his spine as Lucian dared to peek over his shoulder to find the source.

“Tanaka!” His face brightened, framed by sweat and his blonde locks, he was a sodden, sandy mess but happy to see the larger weaver nonetheless.

The weaver in question, shuffled awkwardly, the black laced parasol he’d deemed protection against the intrusive sun rays was failing in its duty - as evidenced by the huge blotches of pink all over his white fur. Clad all in black, he stood out like a sore thumb amongst the others - a beacon of cloudy skies in the summer horizon. Their neighbours nearby edged away, shooing their kittens toward the water, glancing at the numerous bloody bandages and bruises that littered Tanaka’s legs, as the space around them suddenly expanded. Though Lucian now felt he could breathe a little easier, he would’ve preferred if it had been for kinder reasons. With a scowl he pierced the sands with the end of the larger umbrella, pulling Tanaka in, forcing him to sit, gigantic cloudy puff tail and all, underneath as he continued to busy himself with dishing out brunch from the basket.

“M-Maybe I sh-should’ve stayed at home,” Tanaka hugged himself, his eyes darting about to the crowds and squealing hordes splashing in the water. He was out of his element - dragged from the comfort of candlelight and books, all about him was raw and…loud. He swept some sand from his wrapped knees, wincing as crystals sunk between the gaps. Lucian was at his side at once, black tipped ears flopped in concern. Dabbing with a small cloth, he flashed a big smile.

“I’m so happy you came! I was worried you weren’t but then here you are---I made your favourite--!” The shooter dove into the apparently bottomless basket to pull out a beaten wooden box. Tanaka blinked as he removed the lid to see clumps of what had appeared to be rice and eel surrounded by sand and shells. Unawares, Lucian beheld their face fall, his own joining suit when he realised the problem. “Oh by Hyth’s Halo...its…”

“Alright,” Tanaka gave a chesty laugh, coughing into his oversized sleeves. He unearthed his own delicately lacquered box, setting it neatly on the towel they shared, revealing a platter of dumplings, rice and vegetables. Another box contained meticulously decorated sweets, untouched by the rampaging earth. Tipping another item out of his sleeve, he wiggled a clay bottle in the other’s direction. “I b-brought..wine...I thought we might need it…”

“Give me the bottle -” Lucian snatched it and took a swig, for medicinal purposes clearly, as the stress of the day was about to ruin his mood entirely. The weaver simply chuckled once more, setting two small cups to the side, deciding they weren’t needed.

“It's certainly busy isn’t it…” Tanaka thumbed his sleeves, squinting at the distant cliffs and some boats hurtling towards them. In truth, it had been months since he had been around so many. Usually confined to his studies, there wasn’t much use for social interaction when most led to him getting ill. The perks of a weak immune system. Thankfully Lucian was on hand to remind him to eat, amongst other things, so it was the least he could do to accompany him on this escapade. His cheeks burned, sat upon by embarrassment and sunburn. He wasn’t entirely ignorant of the fact the other had wanted this to be a date but…

“I’m sorry Tanaka, I should have been more thoughtful...” Lucian replied already deep in his cups.

“N-Nonsense-” The weaver played with the cloudy expanse of his tail, twirling about his fingers in small wisps. “B-Besides I have an idea if y-you’d like -”

Lucian’s ears perked up, pointing to the sun. “Oh?”

---

“A...Fish!”

The bonfire at their feet crackled, splattering ash and sparkles into the night sky. Lucian wriggled, their tiny feet kicking in excitement, at another momentous win. Since sundown, they’d awaited the unveiling of the stars together and were not set about forming their own constellations. The wine was long gone, as was the food, even the scraps of the sullied eel and rice had disappeared, but Tanaka had been smart enough to bring some peach tea. He took a small sip, nodding in acceptance at his defeat. His friend was indeed tipsy but it was tolerable. Besides, they were cutest when they were relaxed and brimming with joy. Engraving the tally into the stand with a piece of driftwood, Tanaka set the cup aside, covering the Starshooter with the majority of the blanket. Despite the overwhelming heat of the day, the night sought to nip at them, draining them of any warmth.

“That's six now you’ve discovered...To my four,” The weaver murmured, interrupted by a sudden surge of intense purring from his right. Lucian’s head lay upon his lap, having surrendered his victory to the lull of drunken sleep. Tanaka parted their hair, peeking at their face and smiled, indulging in a single kiss upon their forehead.

“Mm...I’ll let you win, just this once.” 

By faeven

Check out and favorite the original here!

Beach Dreams

When Etty had been alive, they had loathed the heat. One too many days spent in the desert south of the Oriens, hiding from roving patrols of other shooters, stashing supplies in heavily disguised weapons caches. They would have much rather spent their summer days then safely inside their house at the outskirts of the capital, hiding from the heat in the darkness of their room. Now, with their shooter’s fur shed for the skin of a robber, and the warmth of living blood and energy fled from their body, Etty soaked in the heat of the sun like their afterlife depended on it. Summer was busy season for the circus Etty worked for, and currently their roving caravan was settled where the mountains met the tropics, not too far from the siren call of the beach and ocean.

There are hours until the evening performance, so Etty sets out for a walk, wanting to soak up the sun, maybe dip their claws in hot sand and sparkling tropical ocean. A few other performers offer to tag along, but Etty waves them off, wanting to be alone for a while. They love working for the circus, but travelling caravan living doesn’t lend itself very well to alone time, and Etty is used to spending most of their time alone. Such was the life of an outcast turned rebel turned smuggler. It wasn’t a line of work that invited company, and after the raid that killed them and the rest of their associates (Probably. Etty’s memories were very much still coming into focus, but it’s hard to imagine anyone surviving that.)

Etty can smell the ocean before it comes into their view. Though the capital bordered the ocean, Etty hadn’t spent much time their in their life, having lived inland, closer to the edges of the plains and forest than the coast. Of course, they’d spent plenty of time around the ocean after coming to in the Gravewastes, and suddenly having the freedom to wander that wasn’t afforded to them hiding from other shooters in their lifetime. Especially once they started partying. A great number of robber raves happened where wetlands met coastal land, accompanied by roaring bonfires and any number of illicit substances and questionable snacks. Etty wasn’t immune to a good party, nowadays. The other performers in the circus knew how to throw a shindig, that was for sure. But for the most part, Etty avoided the parties and tried to focus on remembering who they used to be, what they used to want. Anything to ease the desperate gnawing in their hollow chest that reminded them something was missing.

But today was not about that. It was not about digging through the fragments of their memories, or about the circus, or about the time they spent post-robber-awakening making bad choices. Today was about taking a long, luxurious nap in the sand with the ocean lapping at the tips of their claws. After all, no fear of drowning when you’re already dead. As Etty made their way from the trail they were walking to the sand of the beach, they stretched their arms above their head, shifting the bag slung over their shoulders. Digging through the pockets, Etty slipped a large pair of dark glasses over their eyes, shielding them from the sun, and snagged a glass bottle of their favorite fizzy starfruit soda. They had a few other snacks in the bag, bits of fruit, and nice meat bought with a generous tip from a friend who’d come to the circus.

Etty surveyed the beach, looking for the perfect spot to stretch out. It was dotted with the occasional other beachgoers, mostly couples and families, but a few other loners as well, laid out on towels, reading under big shady umbrellas. A ways down the beach, free of any other visitors, was a small cove, tucked into one of the rock formations that lead up into the base of the mountains. Etty had spent a fair amount of time there that summer, any time they could sneak away for a few hours of peace and sunlight. Setting down their bag, Etty tugged their loose dress over their head, worn only to cover up their swimsuit and stitches as they made their way to their favorite spot. People were more and more used to robbers moving through regular society, but Etty still preferred to cover up when they ventured too far from the circus, or other areas where the undead were slightly more common. It was mostly to avoid the inevitable questions about how they died, and why they’d been brought back. The faint and fading glow of the dead lifegem in Etty’s chest could be seen through their white bikini top, lending the fabric a vague pink tint when they stretched.

Laying out a towel to lay on and a bundled up extra towel for a pillow, Etty spread themselves out in the little cove, shifting until all their skin was exposed to the midday sun. With a content sigh, they popped a berry into their mouth and closed their eyes to soak in the atmosphere of the beach. Waves lapping at their clawed feet, sun-warmed sand between her fingers, a soft breeze ruffling their hair and the jagged edges of their fins. With summer beginning to wane, this was one of their last chances to enjoy what had become one of their favorite pastimes. Etty thought the beach naps had been good for them, honestly. The more time they spent sleeping in the warm sand, the more they dreamed. The more Etty dreamed, the more convinced they were that the dreams were leading them to whatever they were looking for, for whatever left them with this gnawing, empty loneliness in their chest, and not just because their body was all but hollow now.

Today, Etty’s dream felt more like a memory of another, earlier summer day. Faces in their dreams are always vague, out of focus. This time, it is a blur of orange and red, slowly getting lost in the background of the sun sinking into the ocean. From their blearly dream distance, the orange blur looks like a crafter, and Etty’s ears perk up. Aware of their ears once more, Etty realizes they’re their old ears. An old memory, a memory from before their death. The distant orange crafter shouts, waving a huge arm in Etty’s direction.

“Etts!” his voice booms “Come see what ———- dug up in this tide pool.”

As always, any names spoken in Etty’s dreams sound garbled, but familiarity tugs at their mind as they walk through the sand, so they move towards the bodies, but they don’t get any closer. They never do. Etty continues to walk, though, because the warm sand feels good, and the silhouettes in the distance still feel their chest with warmth, even if they stay on the horizon, forever out of reach, blending in with the warm tones of the sunset. The smaller body— another crafter, Etty thinks, squinting in the fading daylight— lets out a peal of laughter, hefting a large crustacean over their head. Etty slows their walk until they simply stop walking altogether, halting at the edge of the ocean to feel the water against their paws.

The water lapping against Etty’s knees as the tide comes in raises them from their slumber. Sunset hasn’t begun, but but the sky is beginning to change colors, a watercolor wash along the horizon, so with a yawn and a stretch, Etty stands, dusting stray sand from their thighs, scattered there by the breeze. They tug their dress back on, shake out their towel, and after popping another handful of berries into their mouth, they begin their journey across the beach, along the trails, and back to the circus to warm up for tonight’s performance. Tonight, Etty will be the Dazzling Etoile, doing flips and contorting their body into pretzels from the precarious perch of a tightrope, tossing the occasional knife down onto the hay bale targets below. Being the Dazzling Etoile requires a fair amount of prep work, so the hours between Etty’s beach vacation and the opening of the tent will be spent limbering up in the grass, enjoying the last rays of warmth from the summer sun.

Festivale of Fools Event 2020 Entry

By minpha

Please check out and favorite the original post here!

https://www.furaffinity.net/view/36151874/

It was an unexpected surprise but not unwanted. If anything, it was the way to Fandaniel’s heart.

The road toward it was easy to find and unmissable - a Starcrafter of his gargantuan size possessed a heart triple that of most. There was space for all in it but his weakness was the little ones yet to come of age. The future. Seeing their eyes light up, the magma of the mountains reflected as their pupils burst wide in awe as he turned a simple opal into an elaborate sculpture with, to them, appeared a simple flick of the wrist. Having them surround him, day in, day out, hungry for his every word and direction, their tiny claws scratching at gem offcuts and at his knee when they were done -the more bold amongst them hopped and tried to tug on his chest fur, usually falling flat on their faces but the effort was usually rewarded with an affectionate head pat - was his greatest joy.

But the surprise! The surprise, how could he forget.

Crumpled in a ball within his talons was the note. They’d all signed it in their own unique ways - some in scripts, the younger with tiny pictures of paw prints that made him grin from ear to ear. Such sudden kindness to a clumsy old boulder of fluff like him…

“Mr Fandaniel!

We all got you a present from the surface! Shale’s mother calls them apples and we got some for you. Then Jasper’s dad told us that some dragons dip them in sticky stuff and eat it! We found some and made them for you! It's in the basket at the classroom!”

The ‘classroom’ was a simple magmafall in a shale laden cave. Not too far from the main city, it was close enough that the parents had no problem knowing the little ones were safe and not too far from their gaze. Then again - what threat could there be when the largest crafter in their midst was double, or even triple, their size? Trouble didn’t stand a chance.

Sure enough there was the basket - wrapped in a shimmering lavender cloth. Stroking it, he realised that it was silk. Elaborate! To go to such trouble...His heart couldn’t take it. Plopping himself unceremoniously onto the ground, cross legged, ignorant of a trickle of pebbles falling behind him, he dove into the basket to retrieve his gift. Against the throbbing hue of the burning lava, the toffee apples appeared to glow. Fandaniel’s mouth began to water as he imagined the sheer bliss of the sweetness of the sugar mixed with the juice of the apple meeting on his tongue. More trickles of stones.

“Hello?” His voice boomed into the vacant cave, loud enough to knock any intruder off of their feet. There was a giggle, a high pitched shiver of sound that reminded him of bats. Shrugging, he returned his attention to the basket, snatching two of the apples into his palm. Stuffing them into his mouth whole, he took his time before crushing them with his teeth, relishing the sudden explosion of sweet and ---

Oh. Oh no.

His face froze in horror. Where there was meant to be the luscious spray of apple juice and syrup was - onion. Only onion. Bitter, tear-inducing onion that he wanted to fling from his mouth but it was too late. Perched on the back of his tongue, he felt the sting as they tumbled down his throat toward his stomach.

A choir of squeaks and yells erupted from behind him. Descended upon by tiny talons and blurred specks of fur and scales, the children hugged and climbed upon him, their giggles sounded distant despite their closeness. Now he was glad he swallowed.

“He ate it!”

“We got you!”

“Is it tasty, teacher?”

“You’ve got some left!”

Summoning air into his lungs so his chest fluff appeared as proud as could be, he peered down at them all, refusing to give in. These imps. He couldn’t let them win!

“Didn’t your parents tell you it's rude not to share?!” Gathering the remainder of the ‘apples’ into his palm he thrust them into the children’s faces, grinning wide as they scattered, yelping with glee as he chased them about the cave.

Festivale of Fools Event 2020 Entry

By GayClub

Please check out and favorite the original post here!

https://toyhou.se/~literature/43981.festival-tomfoolery

Right, so that hadn’t gone exactly as planned...this was fine. Sprinkles peeked out of the window of the wagon he was in, eyes dancing between the bars, shifting his cuffed hands behind his back. He’d been snagged while pickpocketing, the festivities not having been as much of a cover as he had hoped it would be. He knew he’d be fine - by the time he even got taken back to the slammer, his friends would have bailed him, it had happened before and would absolutely happen again. That said, the walled police wagon was still daunting, and there was always the chance the other wouldn’t find him.

He idly kicked at the wall, sarcastically repeating back the barked order of you stop that!

He waited about twenty minutes before he heard cussing from the cops, and felt the wagon stopping. His ears perked up, the sound of the cops hopping off the front of the wagon and exclaiming about someone laying in the road slapping a grin across his face.

Oh he knew this trick.

He took the opportunity to shuffle closer to the door, and shuffle his legs through his arms so they’d be cuffed in front of him instead of behind, much easier to get them off that way, assuming this was his squad stalling the wagon. He strained his ears, listening for any sign the lock and deadbolt on the back of the wagon were being tampered with-

A heavy metallic thud told him all he needed to know. The bolt quietly but quickly slid, and the door was thrown open, a black, white and rainbow StarShooter greeting him with a grin.

“Alright hurry up.”

“I love you Indra.” Sprinkles said quickly before hopping out of the wagon, lifting his hands for Indra to pry the cuffs open and drop them beside the lock. The two of them sprinted away quickly, back towards the festival, glancing back over their shoulders at the other two they worked with catching up after ducking off the sides of the road, giving up the game that the cops had been tricked.

The four of them ran until they reached the city again, where they ducked and weaved into back alleys, hearts pounding in their chests as they fled from the law, as they always did, though the thrill never got old. Once they were certain they had escaped, they regrouped at the edge of the festivals, watching clowns and jesters perform, and vendors peddle their sweet treats.

“Ok, so let’s try that again, yeah?” Sprinkles suggested with a playful hand sweep towards the crowd. “But this time stick to the middle?”

With an affirmative nod between the lot of them, they melted back into the crowd, Sprinkles opting for playing a distraction instead of doing the swiping, joining hands with a polite looking Sweeper woman with facepaint smeared across her face. He danced with her, laughed with her, all the while distracting her for Indra’s tail to pull the bags from her belt.

When he and the Sweeper parted, he bowed to her before spinning on his heel to locate another dance partner, beaming at them with a joyful sparkle in his eyes.

Oh how he loved parties!

Festivale of Fools Event 2020 Entry

by Kordoruna

Please check out and favorite the original post here!

https://www.furaffinity.net/view/36127807/

Another Man’s Treasure

By Kordoruna

Sparks began pacing around yet again, occasionally peering into the darkness of the caverns before him. He stopped, reaching into his satchel to produce a fancily-penned letter on extremely gaudy stationary:

“Dearest Copernicus,

I hope this letter finds you well. I have obtained information regarding what I believe to be an exciting expedition with the promise of a potentially lucrative find for you. As I have no need of whatever it might be, I wish to impart this knowledge to you simply so that we may partake of a thrilling adventure together. While I would indeed not normally accompany you on such a trek, I merely have a strong feeling that I will want to be present upon this particular discovery. I will enclose a map and a meeting time for which we are to undergo this journey. I eagerly look forward to it with great anticipation.

Ever yours,

Aiulidir”

He stuffed the letter back into his satchel, rolling his eyes. He then pulled out the map again to make sure he was indeed in the correct place, folding and returning it as well once he had done so. For someone who was looking forward to the expedition, Aiulidir was already going on a few hours late to his own scheduled meeting time. As much as he wanted to just charge on ahead, he couldn’t do so in good conscience, as he would not have known about the location at all without Aiulidir’s assistance. He hoped that whatever treasures awaited him would be worth the annoyance he was currently feeling. It was at that moment that he noticed a familiar figure coming into view, carrying an almost comically large backpack.

“My deepest apologies, Copernicus! In my overexcitement, I had severely packed far too many things the night before, and it took some time to whittle down to just the essentials!” the Starshooter exclaimed, giving Sparks a hearty pat on the back that almost knocked him over.

“How is all of that in any way essential?” he questioned upon seeing the mountainous monster of a backpack up close.

“Well, that, I believe, you will come to see in time. Now my friend, let us set off into the caverns. I’ve taken too much of our time, and adventure awaits us!” Aiulidir said with a boisterous chuckle. Sparks shrugged and headed off after him, brushing aside the vines overhanging the mouth of the cavern entrance.

The two travelled into the caverns, Sparks pulling out a bottle of glowmoss for light as the way grew darker, not for his own sake, but for Aiulidir who had somehow managed to forget a source of lighting amongst his ‘essentials’. Though to be fair, he was aware the Starshooter was not used to these kinds of journeys, knowing him to be more comfortable amidst the hustle and bustle of towns and cities. Thinking this made him glance at the backpack, wondering what on earth it could possibly contain, but knew from experience there would be no point in asking.

Sparks took note of the way the tunnels curved naturally, observing the patterns on the stones for guidance toward deeper routes, occasionally marking light scores in the wall with his horn to ensure they don’t get lost.

“Ah, I was correct in my decision to accompany you! I’m quite impressed by your exploration techniques!” Aiulidir stated cheerfully. In response, the Starcrafter flicked his ear in embarrassment.

“It’s not that big a deal. Just stuff my dad taught me. I’m sure there are a lot of Crafters better than me at this kind of thing, dad included,” Sparks mumbled. It still didn’t do much to dampen Aiulidir’s enthusiastic smile, so he sighed and continued onward.

Eventually, they came to an opening at the end of the passage that led to a spacious chamber. The opening was rather small, however, and would not accommodate the backpack Aiulidir was carrying, so he urged Sparks forward, fumbling with the straps and saying he would meet him a bit later. Sparks squeezed through and looked around the chamber, admiring the pale stone within the earthy cave walls. His eyes wandered to a familiar shape in the corner and he twitched his tail excitedly. Before him was a stone chest, simple in detail but very well preserved. He took his pickaxe, going around the back of the chest and tapping it a few times with a flat edge, a trick he’d learned for identifying mimics. The chest remained still and he reached out toward it eagerly.

Sparks then let out a startled yelp as he found himself inside the chest, a mimic after all, he lamented, and wriggled about, only his tail hanging unceremoniously out from the mouth of the mimic. He then heard wheezing laughter behind him, and flared with anger.

“Really?! All this for a dumb prank?!” he shouted, slightly muffled from within the mimic. Aiulidir sauntered over and gently pet the top of the mimic, which let out a happy gurgling noise and released the now somewhat slimy Sparks from its mouth.

“I’m sorry my friend. I wanted you to meet her under less dramatic circumstance, but I knew you would refuse if I had told you she was a mimic. Don’t worry though, she’s as gentle as a munf, nothing like a wild mimic.” He patted her again and more gurgling ensued. Sparks leered at them, then let out a big sigh, drained from the shock of the prank.

“And yes, that is indeed why I had to obtain such a large backpack. I had to make some excuse to go in after you, or else she would have seen me and the ruse would have been blown. Though I promise this is not without some form of recompense for your trouble.” He then turned to the mimic. “Alright girl, show Copernicus what you have.” The mimic then loosed her top and extended a long tongue with an object upon it toward Sparks. He gingerly took it, wiping off the saliva. It was a small, faded red stone tablet with old writing scrawled into it. Sparks could make out a few words of it, then upon studying it further let out another sigh.

“Well? Is it some sort of marvelous artifact or ancient spell?” Aiulidir asked excitedly.

“It’s definitely ancient alright,” Sparks said in a tired voice. “An ancient recipe for soup.” Aiulidir’s ears drooped for but a second before he regained his usual high spirit.

“Well, then we shall simply have to partake of it! After all, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure as they say.” He patted the mimic again and gave her a piece of jerky he’d been carrying, prompting another chorus of happy gurgles.

They headed back the way they came, with the mimic hopping after them, as Sparks wondered why he bothered, but still looked forward to trying out the soup with Aiulidir.

Festivale of Fools Event 2020 Entry

By Tiribi

Please check out and favorite the original post here!

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1KXbUHwCTlQAhQFIopZ823Z-jP0np27bcb_fu9C1mUS0/edit

Don't Wanna Be Left Out, Do You?

Jail.

It was unbelievable. It was unreal. Jailed, and for what?

Sam laid himself flat on the harsh iron bench, set into the wall at the back of the holding cell. His paws hung off the end, and his knuckles brushed the dusty brick -- the thin lining of brick and mortar that separated him from the festival outside.

It was the night of the festival, and they'd put him in jail.

He could hear the party outside -- the raucous ruckus, party horns and party poppers and party...partying. He heard a faint trumpeter, no doubt making hella tips, and he was pretty sure he heard one of those fart balloons go off.

Through the tiny window, set high in the wall, the lights from torches and candles and paper lanterns shone in, in all their flickering splendor and fantastic, brilliant colours. Sam could even still smell the foods, battered, fried, caked in sugar -- save for the pies, of course, which were mostly cream.

Sam heard voices raise in excitement, and he pursed his lips. Everyone was out there, from shooters (like him!) to crafters, and here he was.

In.

Jail.

Sam didn't even really know what disturbing the peace was supposed to mean on a day like this. He didn't know what the cops had done with his bag, or his hat that jingled and jangled, and he definitely didn't know what they had done with his skrewt. Or the slingshot.

The slingshot was a particularly delicate piece of machinery, on account of its size. Sam didn't have a very big skrewt, and the little buddy didn't terribly like having things touching his legs, so getting the harness to fit had been a challenge.

Getting the skrewt to fire the thing had been even harder, of course -- but Sam still hoped it wasn't broken.

A particularly loud belt from the trumpet outside broke over the crowd cheering, and Sam released an exasperated, kittenish roar, buried in the back of his throat. He sat upright, swinging his big, plodding paws back to the floor, and shuffling his costumed butt off the bench.

His tail swung with agitation as he paced to the bars.

"Helloooo?" he called, voice high and pleading as he leaned close, as his fingers wrapped around the solid metal.

His voice echoed, and he swore -- he swore -- he heard an insect sing weakly back.

Bastards. Probably out enjoying the festival, too!!

"Heeeellooooo?" he called again. "I've really thought about what I've done, and I'm ready t--"

He smushed his face up against the bars, and felt his whiskers push through with a slight, muted pop

His eyes went wide, pupils blown.

Oh.

Ohhhh....

Sam's pupils narrowed to slits as his lips curled. He pushed his face, furry whiskers and all, through the gap between the wide metal bars, and slowly snuck his arm through. Even his big paws fit, and he laughed, disbelieving, as shoulder after shoulder smushed through the gap.

Well. After all, right...

What was one more misdemeanor, for the Festival of Fools?

Festivale of Fools Event 2020 Entry

By LettersofSky on DA

Please check out and favorite the original post here!

https://www.deviantart.com/lettersofsky/art/A-Captive-Fool-837801868

A Captive Fool

• by LettersofSky

Bland, dull concrete walls of aged off-white muffled the noises of laughter and cheer of the festivities occurring just outside, working in tandem with the barred wall that cut off the small room and its singular, solitary occupant from the greater world at large.

Duelek would say that he had no idea of how he came to be here. In a metaphorical sense that was, he was keenly aware of how he’d come to be there physically, he was sure that if the thick fur that covered him wasn’t as dark as it was he’d be able to see the rising bruises on his arms where they’d been gripped tightly to jerk him around wherever the law enforcement officers had wanted him, namely this cell.

Duelek grumbled, ears twitching in quick, rapid motions, shifting how he was sitting on the rough, wooden bench within the cell so that he could pull one of his legs up, resting his clawed paw on the wood and leaning his chin against his knee so that he could continue his inspection of the opposing wall in something closer to a comfortable position.

No, the aches in his shoulders where they had nearly been ripped out of their sockets were reminder enough of how he’d been yanked off the streets for no reason and without a chance to ask why. Well, there had been a chance it had just been stamped down quickly by gruff orders and threats of harsher treatment by the law enforcement officers if he didn’t shut his mouth and behave.

The motherfuckin’ assholes. Not even telling a motherfucker why they’d been picked up outta the festival and thrown in a cell, didn’t even give him a chance ta tell his sibling what was happening. Mihal was gonna panic the poor idiot, they wouldn’t have any way to know Duelek had been picked up by the police and not murdered and lying dead somewhere.

Motherfuckin’ local authority figures.

Duelek had told Mihal they shouldn’t have bothered coming out to the festivities tonight, it was just asking for bad things ta happen and they coulda spend a much more relaxed and nice evening at home but no they’d insisted on wanting to go and experience the traditions of the holiday instead of what the Cirque had taught them.

He snorted a breath into the crushing silence of the cell, yeah like what they’d learned there was any different than what was going on outside right now.

Aside from the lack of the rent flesh of sinners, they were about the same; drinking, bright colours and decorations, and pranks and tricks galore. Really when you saw one Festival of Fools you saw them all.

Duelek still would have preferred to be out there with his sibling than stuck in here though, unable to reach them at all and let them know he was fine.

That was probably the worst of it; magic dampeners in the walls cut the weaver off completely from being able to do anything at all about his situation, including contacting his sibling through that avenue of communication. It was wrong to not be able to reach them, was off-putting in the worst kind of way and there was nothing he could do about it except for wait until—

The door to the cellblock opened and Duelek sprang up, unfolding like a puppet on strings, and pressed himself against the bars, lips pulled back slightly over his fangs in his irritation at the unfairness of the situation.

“Ya’ll treat all ya visitors like this or am I bein’ a motherfuckin’ special occurrence?” Perhaps not the best way to address the individuals charged with holding the key to his freedom but no one had ever claimed Duelek to be a smart Weaver now had they?

“Shut up and sit down!” That was exactly the response he was expecting from his outburst but he wasn’t planning on doing either of those things any time soon, not when he’d been thrown in here for no reason.

“Ain’t gonna be doing that none ‘til it’s been told why I’m bein’ in here, yeah?” Duelek snapped back, usually the display would be accompanied by a glow in both his eyes and the gem in the center of his forehead but as it stood it was just sharp words from a skinny twig covered in fluff and fur. Not exactly a very convincing site.

“And I’m not saying anything until you sit down!”

Duelek, former circus performer that he was, tightened his grip on the bars and hoisted himself up, skin-and-bone legs slipping through the bars to cross, leaving him literally sitting in midair with his hold on the bars of the cell keeping him there, an easy feat, nothing too difficult if he were being honest.

A brow rose to the law enforcement officer, a challenge, and the other was unable to hold back the surprised bark of laughter that escaped them

“Shouldn’t have expected less from you clown freaks.”

Well, that was all kind of rude.

Duelek’s lips pulled back over mismatched fangs, the mist of his tail billowing out behind him in his anger, making him look far more dangerous than the lack of musculature or bulk on his bones would suggest alone. Despite the lack of eerie purple glow, it was still a frightening sight.

He should have known it would be that kind of bullshit.

The village was a small one, secluded up in the high mountains and as a result usually cut off from the rest of the world. They were all distrusting of outsiders, more so Duelek and his sibling who’d refused to hide or be ashamed of where they had come from before finding a home in an old, ruined house in the woods. Most of it at least, there were a few facts that they didn’t speak on at all, ever, but that was beside the point.

The point was that the village was small and distrustful to outsiders or those that didn’t act the way they wanted them to or held different values and skills and the villagers made sure that it obvious when someone wasn’t wanted

Usually, Duelek and Mihal didn’t have to deal with them and their unkindnesses but the Festival had drawn them out of their home hidden deep with the forest and into the village’s attention. A mistake if he’d ever experienced one.

One he wasn’t going to let either he nor his sibling repent anything soon

“We’ve had reports of things going missing and someone causing mayhem in the village.”

Duelek snorted, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the law enforcement officer.

“It’s the Festival for it, course there’s some kind a going on tonight. Ya probably got youngins playing tricks.”

“A likely story from someone like you.”

“S’not a story! ‘S honest truth speakin’! Ain’t no fault a mine ya ain’t able ta handle a bunch a youngin’s makin’ mischief!”

The officer scoffs and turns away, dismissing Duelek completely and going back to whatever else they had to occupy themselves with.

Duelek glared after him, limbs stiff and tense before everything leaked out of him and he dropped back to the bottom of the cell, letting himself return to the hard, uncomfortable bench to wait until he was either let out cause they found who was actually responsible for the Fools’ Festival mischief-making or they just grew tired of seeing him in there.

Whatever happened first.

He would be fine.

Festivale of Fools Event 2020 Entry

By Ac3Kat17 on DA

Please check out and favorite the original here!

https://www.deviantart.com/ac3kat17/art/A-Tale-of-Times-Gone-By-839531845

A Tale of Times Goe By

• by Ac3Kat17

“You’re joking. There’s no way.” Jeliah scoffed. There she stood, behind the bar, in front of this strange dasher who had offered to tell her stories of a time long past. Interestingly enough, this dasher looked to be not that much older than her mother, maybe in her forties at most.

“I’m serious. And then my friend looked at me and said ‘Babe, you can’t just go around doing that!’” The orange dasher laughed, light and carefree.

Jeliah glanced over at the clock. Only ten more minutes before she could clock out. She could keep this person here for ten minutes. “Tell me one more and I’ll make you something on the house. Then I’ll turn you free” Jeliah saw the Dasher’s eyes gleam.

“Alright, I’ll bite. That tiger of yours getting restless or something?” Babe smirked at the young eater,

“Not any more than any of the others.” Jeliah motioned at the dangerous animals all around the tavern. “Heli just likes a good story just as much as I do. C’mon, I’m practically pleading here.” Jeliah laughed, but it was hollow. A customer service laugh.

“Okay then, miss demanding. I’m already not sober, let’s keep that trend.” A smirk. “What’s a good one…?” Babe glanced around. “Ah, yes. So let me set the scene. I was about your age, maybe a little younger, and really getting into the spirit of the Festivale of Fools. And I thought the funniest thing would be to draw a crack on my gem.”

“A crack?” Jeliah put her hand defensively over her own lifegem without realizing it. “That’s serious.”

“Yes, but you see, I was going to make it as fake as possible. The real prank came later.” Babe finished off what was left in her glass and put a square on the table. “Another, please.”

Jeliah set off making the drink right away. She was silent, ears perked and listening.

“So I took a brush and some ink and drew the crack. It looked terrible. Ink was dripping everywhere. It was great.” Babe looked proud at remembering her terrible artistry. “But from a distance, you could still tell it was a crack. So all day, I had people running over to me frantically trying to tell me I had a crack in my gem. And of course, the next logical thing to do would be to make my gem start smoking. Just some basic fire magic, is all.”

Jeliah snorted as she placed another glass on the counter.

“That would have them frantic. Then they’d take a closer look and see that it was just ink. So they’d try to explain that to me, and so then, I’d do this…” Babe reached up to touch her gem. But once she tapped it, the entire thing burst into flames. Jeliah leaped back from the bar and Babe burst out in laughter. “And they’d do that!” Her gem was still on fire, but she didn’t seem to be in any pain. Jeliah couldn’t feel any heat, either.

“It’s an illusion?” She wanted to reach out and touch it, just to see if she was correct. But that would cross too many boundaries.

“Yep. No heat, no pain, nothing.” Babe waved her hand through the flames and showed that it came out unharmed. “I had so much fun that day until my mother made me wash it off. But between you and me, I definitely got her.” The dasher took the glass on the counter and downed it in one go. Jeliah tried her best not to look shocked. That was strong liquor. “Now, about that drink?”

“Oh, yes, right away. What do you want?” Jeliah cleared the glass off the counter.

“How about you tell me about you?”

Blood of the Haunt

This blood red fermented beverage is a speciality of Dasher and Weavers of colder climates. Due to reliance on magic for its production, it is considered an extremely rare delicacy in Shooter culture.

Blood of the Haunt is made from small, dark red, nearly black berries about the size of gooseberries or grapes. In the short time that these berries are ripe in late spring, they are prone to bursting violently when touched, an adaption to spread their seeds farther away from the host plant. This leaves blood red splatters staining the fur, skin, and clothes of those attempting to pick and eat them.Those with magic on Jo'Arca have discovered that freezing the berries before picking nullifies the explosive effect, along with concentrating the sweetness of the berries. However, not all who use magic can maintain the effect of freezing forever, so pressing and fermenting the berries is one of the ways the berries can be preserved for future use, and sold or given to others.

Since the berries are picked relatively early in the year and fermentation with a frozen fruit takes so long, the wine is usually ready in the fall. Often the casks are tapped in celebration of Helgin's Haunt, with the deep red berry wine being exceptionally sweet and a perfect compliment to a night of frights and treats.  source 

"My mother taught me this recipe," Takara explained with a giggle, not once looking up from the dough he was oh-so-carefully cutting. "And it's really cool the way it works-I don't do a lot of baking, y'know, but I make this every Helgin's Haunt, for the kids, right?" He giggled some more, kitsunebi bobbing about as he leaned over to glance at the cookbook beside his project.

"So you know how lumilunis glow at night?" Idly, he patted one of the soft little fruits before setting aside a few strips of dough. "Only the fresh ones, though-or at least, the raw ones. If you cook them, they don't glow anymore!"

He switched from strips to circles then, carefully punching out little discs of dough and setting them gently in a tin. "So my mom-genius that she is-wondered, what is it that makes them glow at night? The lack of sunlight, right? But!" He paused to point at me with his knife, grinning wide. "She thought, what if it's the cold? It gets colder at night, especially in the season when the fruits grow-and the cooked ones don't glow, so maybe getting too warm shuts down the glowing entirely!-so she baked these tarts without the lumilunis, kept them raw, and put them in after, and voila!"

With another bout of gentle laughter, he swept over to the stove, where a sweet-smelling mixture was gently bubbling away. The weaver gave it a few stirs before carefully lifting it off of the heat, continuing to stir and watch it as he spoke. "I still cook some in the filling, just to add that extra bit of flavor-they're so much sweeter when you cook them, the puffs absolutely love them! Here, have a whiff!" Without waiting for a reply he lifted the steaming pan towards my face, and I couldn't help but take a deep breath-and, sure enough, a mix of fruity sweetness, the warmth of nutmeg and cinnamon, a sugary caramel, and earthy pecans-or were they walnuts?-assaulted my senses.

"Wonderful, ain't it?" Takara beamed, pulling the pan back to stir it some more. "It takes a bit of fussing to get the raw lumis in, under the lattice on top, while making sure the filling's not so hot it warms them up too much-mom had a sort of gift for these things, always knew exactly when they were cool enough and how to avoid ruining the lattice-I'll have to ask her about it someday so mine can turn out a bit less sloppy!" He snickered to himself, pausing in his stirring to wipe at his forehead. "But enough about that-you're interested in the finished product, aren't you? These'll take a while to be done, but I might be able to show you the last batch..."

Nodding his head for me to follow him, the author-turned-baker padded into the next room over, where a few racks of little tarts laid in perfect rows. As he said, the lattices on top were a bit messy, but it didn't detract from the intended image;

"They're meant to look like a StarRobber's chest cavity," Takara said, keeping his voice low as if telling a scary story. "That's where the name comes from; Helgin's Delights. You know the ones, with the gaps in their ribs with their old, cracked gems faintly shining through-at night, when it gets chilly out, the raw lumilunis glow through the lattice, like the gems of some poor souls given a second chance by Helgin himself..." I admit, a shiver ran down my back, but the eerie atmosphere passed the moment Takara started giggling again. "The kids love it! And, well, I always make one batch with brandy, for the adults-they're a hit at Haunt parties, hah!"  source

CONTENT WARNING:

Horror, death, blood, gore.

It wears our skin.

We were so stupid to come out here, and you are too, if you’re reading this. We knew there was nothing good to be found in the snow forests on the edge of the Ardilla swamplands, at the foot of the mountains. All the scariest stories that were crafted by the wisest elders back at camp to scare the little starpuffs away from this place? They weren’t bullshit after all, and we should have fucking listened to them.

Stories of spirits in the forest, luring kids into the muck and mire with sweet, sad songs. Creatures that wear the faces of your friends to get you to trust them, to spirit you away to never be seen again. Tall tales. Things only babies would believe.

Gods above.

Five young, dumb Dashers and Eaters, all of us figuring ourselves bigshot adventurers. We weren’t scared of the Robbers to the West, waiting to feast on our living flesh. We weren’t even scared of the Shooters to the East, scouring closer to our land every day for the chance to steal us away to sell in the cities--dead or alive. No, we weren’t scared of these very real threats, so why should we be scared of all the bogeymen that lurked in the dark underbrush?

We were going to hike through these forests, see? From our encampment on the Serpent River, all the way up to the coast of the Silyak Sea. Straight north, through the grassy foothills and the permafrost crusted taiga. We were going to march our way straight through the woods and prove to all the other kids back home how big and bad we are.

Sweet Hyth above, I wish we had never left. And I wish all the more we had never tried to turn back when we finally lost our nerve that second night, when we were so fucking lost even though we never strayed from our marked path. We never strayed, damnit, so how did we get so turned around?

The canopy of the trees was thick and stole the direction of the sun from us and the comfort of its warmth. The terrain was muddy and thick with snags and brush that would snare our tails and scratch our legs, and was so thick in places that we wouldn’t see the sharp drop down into the bogs below until we were already one hoof down the slope.

And that? That was in the daylight, or whatever little sliver of dim glow that would pass itself as daylight between the pine needles.

Even with our lanterns lit, the darkness was so thick and oppressive that we could only see a meter or two ahead. We lost someone on that first night. She was spearheading us through the brush when she just...fell. There one minute, gone the next, with only a short yell and a series of wet crashes to follow. By the time we found a safe way down the incline to look for her, she had already been submerged, unconscious, in the muck for far too long.

But we never stopped. We wouldn’t dare.

Because from the first moment we set foot into this forest, we have been watched. We have been followed. At first, I thought it was just that paranoid fear--y’know, deep in a forest, far from civilization, anyone’s bound to feel nervous. There’s no telling what creatures make their home in these swampy woods...unless, of course, you believed the starpuff stories. Then you might have some idea, if you put enough credence in them being true.

I do now. I should have sooner than this.

It was when the darkness began to fall that we first heard it. The song--no. That’s not quite right, but it’s not quite wrong either. It was a wailing, low and mournful, like a funeral dirge, that seeped through the branches and into our skin, digging deep into our bones. It was so beautiful, so captivating; I wanted nothing more than to seek out the singer and listen to their woes and comfort them.

But the sound also filled me with a deeply unsettling feeling, a dread more intense than any I had ever felt before. That song, wherever it came from, was growing closer as the darkness did as well, and with it came the faintest whiff of something truly disturbing.

Like the sky after an intense lightning storm, a thick, coppery scent began to fill the air as the song grew louder. Blood.

It was the smell of blood.

We started moving then, and we didn’t stop, not even to mourn the loss of our leader in the mud. We couldn’t afford to. Even moving at a brisk clip, the song was growing louder, its words and tones growing clearer. One of us--a Dasher like myself who I was only barely acquainted with before this trip--stopped and turned toward the ink black forests behind us.

It sounded like the girl, they said. The one we lost just a bit ago. Which was impossible, we tried to tell them, because fuck, they had seen it themselves--she was well and truly dead.

What if she came back? they said. As a Robber. She’s so scared. I have to see if she needs help, they said.

And then they were gone, before we could stop them, dashing off into the underbrush. We debated hotly amongst ourselves for a precious few moments--should we go after them? Should we keep going?--but we didn’t have to debate long. The Eater girl we had with us, gods I wished I remembered her name, she shushed us. Quiet, quiet. Listen.

The song, which had followed behind us so relentlessly for hours now, was gone. Total silence.

Except for the sound of something making its way toward us in the underbrush.

I don’t know why we didn’t run then. Every part of me was screaming for me to dart away while we had the chance, and the tension in the air told me the remaining two felt much the same way. And yet we were frozen there, transfixed, our lanterns held out far before us. Watching, as we had been watched.

From behind a tree just a few meters ahead, there was movement. I was about to book it when the Eater called out--it was the Dasher. She called out their name, drawing close to her friend, and the relief that fell over us was palpable. I didn’t know them well at all, but goddamn, was their face such a blessing to see.

Except, as the Eater drew closer to them, their lantern casting its glow more properly upon their body, did that feeling of relief turn to pure icy dread. I don’t know what it was that initially set me ill at ease--maybe it was the lifeless look in their eyes. The way their gems didn’t glow as they had just a few minutes before.

What really disturbed me, though, was the long gash that tore an ugly red valley from their groin to their chin, and the thick scent of blood that lingered around them. The Eater must have noticed it quickly, too; her steps faltered just shy of the Dasher. I couldn’t see her face, but the stiffness of her posture told me all I needed to know of the fear that had locked her up tight.

She said to them, my gods. Are you alright? What happened to you?

And the Dasher...they said nothing. They simply stared at the woman with those dull, dull eyes.

I tried to call out to the Eater and warn her not to step forward, but my voice died in my throat as their--no. As it’s voice rose. In a hum, first, that gradually rose into a wailing dirge that came not from its mouth…

...but from the gash on its stomach, now opening wide like a sideways maw. It opened wider, wider, impossibly wide, teeth jutting out from its flesh like broken ribs through the flesh of the rib cage, the rest of the body slumping back at a disgustingly limp angle. Like a ragdoll’s body.

My companion, another Dasher, tried to make a lunge forward, and I found my voice again just in time to scream in sheer fucking horror as that--that thing--closed its body maw around the Eater with a sickening crunch of snapping body and sinew that I’m not entirely certain belonged only to her.

You’re going to think I’m a coward, but fuck that. Fuck this, fuck everything, I had to do what I needed to to survive right then and there.

I turned tail and ran.

As far and as fast as my legs could carry me, I booked it through those woods, and I didn’t look back once. The sounds of screaming grew distant, only to be replaced with the sound of something thundering through the woods after me, and even that petered off after a time. It might have been my friend, who I left to fend for himself out there in the dark. It might have been that thing.

I don’t know. I don’t much care. I had to get out of there, but now, I’m certain I’m not getting out of these forests alive.

I ran and ran until my hoof caught a branch and I, too, went tumbling head over heels down into the bogs and the swamps at the foot of these hills. My leg is burning, I know I broke it in the fall. I couldn’t put any weight on it if I were on good, dry land, but in this knee-deep mire? No chance in hell.

I’ve been laying here for an hour. I can hear singing in the distance now, and it’s growing closer. I can smell that thing now. It won’t be much longer until it finds me, and I’m tempted to let myself sink into the water now and let that be that before it gets me.

The song… It’s singing with my friend’s voice now. I don’t think I could stand seeing it wear his skin.

While I’ve still got time, I’m writing all of this down, and I can only hope and pray some better-prepared adventuring party finds this and believes what I’ve written, and listens to those old fucking starpuff stories. The elders were right.

Don’t listen to the singing in the night, and don’t trust that the friend that wandered away in the dark has returned the same.

That thing is out there. And it wears our skin.

A Menacing Monster and Spooky Story combo entry by CaariOsamu for the 2017 Helgin's Haunt event 

Helgin's Fins---- Thin, uneven crunchy treats that tend to get little holes in the thinner parts when they are baked.

Helgin's Teeth--- Basically if candy corn and candy canes were put together. Often striped and vaguely triangle shaped but a lot of kids like to suck on them until they're pointy. About the length of one's palm.

Helgin's Blood---- A sweet drink that has the consisancy of syrup, often green, glowing, and alcoholic, but there are non-alcoholic varities for young ones. Popular at haunt parties.

Helgin's Scales---- Seasoned seeds baked in the over that look a lot like scales, very popular during Helgin's Haunt.

Helgin's Tails---- A fun gummy treat often enchanted to wiggle on their own! Comes in a wide variety of fun colors, a favorite among children and adults alike.

Dasher's Eyes--- Another gummy treat, this time much thicker and put on a stick! Two sets that are shaped like eyes, sprinkled with a glowing, sugary powder and decorated with sprinkles and such. Kids like to hold them up to their faces like a mask of sorts.

Spider's Eggs--- Looks like tiny, unpeeled grapes; very very sticky, often piled up. Eaten with spoons, have the consistancy of the inside of jellybeans when eaten. Very popular snack for babies or those without teeth.

Crafter Shale--- Crunchy candies that are flat and irregular in shape similar to crafter shale. Very sweet, comes in a wide variety of colors, some even glow!  source

An excerpt from the journal of Catili Veralis, a Starshooter anthropologist. The lullaby can be sung to the tune of "Jag Vet En Dejlig Rosa" and Robyn.

Journal translation:

During some of my visits to Stareater villages, I heard

a lullaby being sung to children from infancy to

perhaps six or seven years old. I was taken aback by

the subject matter. The lyrics are listed below,

though there are some variations between singer.

"Quiet Now, My Dear"

The night has come and we must rest,

for now they search the town /

The shooters search for all of us,

so you must settle down /

I know you love to laugh and squeal /

But if you do, they’ll come and steal /

So quiet now, my dear /

They take our gems right from our chests

for magic and for greed /

The deities abandoned them,

so now they make us bleed /

But if you’re silent, they won’t know /

Your gems are here and softly glow /

So quiet now, my dear /

When gems are not enough for them,

on little ones they prey /

They’ll snatch you right out of your bed

and take you far away /

So quiet down and go to bed /

Look forward to the day ahead /

And you’ll be safe tonight

As disturbing as I find this lullaby, being a

Starshooter myself, Lorai seems even more upset.

She does not like to hear it sung. She admits

that the tune is familiar vaguely familiar, but

she was taken too young to remember childhood

lullabies

I was able to get an account from a Stareater (age 93)

who is a great-great-grandmother and familiar with

the lullaby.

"When I was a child, my mother sang us that

song before bed - a lullaby to get us to

settle down, you know. It was about the

Starshooters who would come at night and

snatch up noisy kids and their families.

(She laughs.) In hindsight, it is a dark

bedtime story! As a little girl I was

scared silly. I only ever made a peep

if it was an absolute emergency.

Then, when I had kids of my own, I sang

the same lullaby to my little ones just

to get them to be quiet. (She laughs again.)

Maybe it was a bit mean, but it worked like

a charm!

(Her expression fell and she spoke with a

serious tone.) It wasn't much of a lie, though.

A family down the street was raided by

Shooters when I was a teenager. The father

was found dead with no gem and the mother

and two kids disappeared. We were a luckier

town, though. They didn't come for us often."

It appears that many Stareaters view Starshooters,

or at least the concept of us, as the things that go

bump in the night. Many of the Stareaters I have

interviewed in this journal have stories of family

and friends who were killed or kidnapped by

Starshooters. There are so many of these stories that

I can't include all of them in this journal. Shooters

as a people need to be aware of the effect of our

treatment of these people.

Catili Veralis

A Spooky Story entry by quantumsky for the 2017 Helgin's Haunt event.