The Snarled Circle Chronicles
21. Garden Variety
In the musty manor Edelweiss, a friendship flowers.
Pixies and Posies
for Shrubby
In a tiny upstairs room, with nothing but a bed, an empty closet, and a fine spread of dust, Felice lay his chin upon the windowsill and fluttered his wings like a newborn butterfly trying to make sense of life outside the shell.
It was a hot summer. Not so hot as the sunny southern climes he was used to, but harsher without the sea breeze blowing in. Everything was stagnant, frozen under woolen clouds of moisture. Like Edelweiss itself, the weather was timeless and stale and rarely filtered. At least there was a flowery scent outside.
He gazed with heavy-lidded eyes upon the flower garden. It was well-maintained — something about Herr Edelstein's mother wanting it so. The lilies were faded, and the irises long crinkled, but now the lupines and coneflowers were crowded in the beds. Wild pink roses opened their dewy faces to the sun, reigning supreme over colonies of columbines and whole hosts of hostas. Pollinators commuted through the hedge maze. There was the reckless young bee. There the vain butterfly. And ah! For a split second, the lustrous hummingbird, her body swiveling as she hovered for just a second above the rosebush.
A light knock brought the fairy out of his sunlit reveries. Otto was at the door. He'd been unbuttoning his coat to annoy his cousin again, and with that fold in his pant leg, Felice knew he'd been kicked in the shin.
"I haven't seen you since this morning. How was the lesson?" Otto asked.
Felice slumped, falling from the sill and melting into his mattress until his wings stopped him from rolling right off the bed.
"It was okay. Today I learned about transposition, and tomorrow we're going to reharmonize Bach."
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know! I don't know anything he talks about! I always thought I could be a good musician. I know it's important to learn my scales. But why does Bach need to be reharmonized? Why do I have to do it? I don't have the courage to ask."
"Don't ask me. My cousin's never cared about music theory so much as he does now."
"Exactly. I think he's being all stiff on purpose when he plays during my lessons. I think he really can play from his heart, but he doesn't want me to see it. So I'm stuck identifying chords and matching pitches and reharmonizing humans with names I can't pronounce."
"In other words, you're tired."
Felice nodded with a yawn. He pushed himself up, then slid off the bed and walked with wilty wings to the door.
"That potion makes me so sleepy. It's like all my energy is weighing me down instead of keeping me awake."
"You get used to it," Otto said. "Do you want to take a walk outside? It's really hot, but I won't mind."
"Yeah. We can do that. Can we go in the garden again? It smells so pretty down there, and I like watching the bees."
"Sure. Just let me take off this coat. It's way too hot for one."
There were different levels of "off-limits," Otto had taught Felice. The Black Study was off-limits moreso than the flower garden, but not as off-limits as the orchard. And if they were caught, Otto reminded him, he was the Duke of Liutberht, and he'd only receive one blow for misbehavior, not several.
Quietly, carefully, he led the fairy down corridors and stairs until they came to the back landing. A few stone steps into a lichen-licked depression in the floor, and they were at the back door leading directly into the heart of the garden. Otto led the way into the sunlight.
"Ah, so nice!" Felice exclaimed. Right away he whizzed his wings until he was high above his friend, zipping over the hedges and taking in the wonderful warmth of the summer sun. Up here, he could smell the rainbow of flowery scents in full. He felt his wings flushing out with strength again, and he twirled around and around, dancing on the tips of leaves like the butterflies.
"Felice! Get down! You don't want to catch attention!"
"Eh? Oh, right." He held his arms out to balance, then floated down as if slowly lowered by giant fingers. His shoes touched softly upon the stone walkway, and his wings folded down with grace.
But he wasn't one to quit. The warmth on his wings was an excellent motivator, and soon he was bounding through the hedge maze, feeling the softness of petals on his button nose and greeting every single bee he saw.
"This is even bigger than my mamma's garden! But the flowers aren't as big as hers. My big brother Lovi taught her some of his plant magic, and now the roses are huge!"
"Hm," said Otto. He wasn't much into flowery discussion and instead wrestled his arms out of his waistcoat. This was proving to be hotter than he liked.
The fairy began to sing. His voice stirred up piles of pollen that floated through the air in a cheerful golden cloud. It made Otto sneeze furiously, especially when a fuzzy bumblebee landed on his nose.
"I'm not good with plants," the fairy continued. "I'm good at swaying emotions, though. Like, em… this!" He ran up and down a perfect scale for a patch of thistles. Their purple crowns didn't change, but they stood up prouder and taller in the stifling heat. Otto, too, felt a little more complacent. He stopped wrenching up his sleeves and settled with what red marks the tight wrinkles of fabric left already.
He flinched for a second when Felice had left his vision. Then, he heard a huge gasp from one hedge over.
"Hey! Come see this! I thought it was a hummingbird, but quick, come look! Eh! It's flying away!"
"Don't run off. I don't want to get in trouble more today, though it would be far too much fun to stick my tongue out at Roderich while he kicks my shins."
He followed the sound of the fairy's voice until he came close to the edge of the flowerbeds. Here the stark, wrought-iron fence stood, separating garden from orchard. Felice pointed to a mound of perforated dirt almost as tall as he was, built up between the fence and a shady tree. Slowly, he crawled on hands and knees until he came to the mound, then burst into happy laughter.
"Wow! It's just like the ones at home!"
"What is?"
"It's a pixie colony!"
Otto looked on, but still hunched within the hedges like a wary cat. One side of the fairy's mound was tough and sturdy against the tree, while the other was mushy and made mostly of sand. Tiny creatures were flowing in and out of the holes. Felice snapped out and caught one, then let it sit in cupped hands.
"Come see this!"
"Bring it to me here. I won't go near the fence. My cousin really wouldn't like it if these shoes got dirty."
Felice shrugged, then brought his creature for Otto to see.
It was like a skinny little man, wearing a suit made of crinkled red leaves. His skin was the magenta of coneflower petals, and the wings on his back were like two drops of amethyst. He shook his spiky purple hair and grimaced.
"That's a pixie," Otto said. His mouth pressed into a line, as if bothered by the thing.
"It's a dy," Felice explained. "Pixie colonies are made up of fy and dy, and the Queen. Fy are light-colored and good-natured. They're like flower spirits. Dy are more naughty. They like the earth and mushrooms and things. But you'll always find both, or it's not a true colony."
"But why is there a pixie colony here at Edelweiss? There shouldn't be. If my cousin knew they were here, he'd destroy them."
Felice flinched. Dozens of pixies were perched on his hair and clothes, making him look bedazzled in purple and blue. Clawed dy crawled over his fingers while light-footed fy floated up to kiss his ears. Curious creatures swarmed around Otto as well, but he swatted them and darted back into the heart of the garden.
"Otto…? I thought you'd like the pixies. They're cute. Right? You guys are cute. But you know it's dangerous for you here. The master isn't very nice."
The first dy nodded, then pointed back at the mound. There, hundreds of fy and dy quickly assembled a blanket of leaves that covered the whole thing, making it look like a mossy stump.
"Eh, a disguise! That's cool! Stay safe, okay, little pixies? I'll visit you soon."
He left his new friends and returned to Otto, who was sulking and sweating on a bench before the grand bed of petunias.
"Are you too hot?"
"I'm melting," Otto groaned. "You complained about the heat earlier, and you're just fine out here."
"It is pretty hot. I guess I'm forgetting I have wings." With this, he fluttered and flapped them, making a mini breeze that swept over his friend. "That's a lot of flowers. Can we use them?"
"Use them for what? We're not allowed to eat them."
"You eat weird things," the fairy said. "No, I know what to do with those. There are so many. I don't think it will hurt."
He kneeled down and began pulling up petunias by the roots. Then, with a little grass and some dandelion stems, he tied and wove the pink-and-purple flowers into a colorful coronet, which he plopped on Otto's head.
"There! You're all pretty!"
"I don't want to be a fairy prince."
"Eh? Why would you be a fairy prince? You aren't a fairy or a prince, and fairy princes don't wear flowers. They wear gold crowns and suits—"
"It doesn't matter. I won't wear a flower crown."
"Yes you will! And I'll wear one too!"
So Otto slumped and sulked until Feliciano had pulled up a few square feet of petunias and woven them into another crown, a few bracelets, and a flowery sash that was soon brimming with bees.
"You're going to get stung," Otto grumbled.
"No I won't! Bees are friendly! They just want to smell the flowers too! They smell so good. Thanks for taking me out here again. I even forgot about that dumb music stuff I have to do tomorrow. Music isn't math and science. It's love and happiness and fun and—"
It was at this moment that a bee stung Felice right on the nose. He sneezed, then whimpered and curled in on himself, wings fluttering madly in pain.
"I told you. Let's get back inside. The gardener's going to come soon, and he'll fix the flowerbed before my cousin can even learn of its desecration. We don't want to get caught out here with the mess."
"Will you still wear the crown inside?"
"If you make me."
"Yeah! I will make you!"
Herr Edelstein had seen the whole desecration from an upstairs window. Shins were kicked and wings were pulled in due time, but Otto found the crown to be the superior punishment.
Mischief at Midnight
for CoveTPeng
Sometimes, for unexplained reasons, Felice would find Otto curled up on his floor at night, sleeping on a pillow with a single quilt wrapped around him.
He always disappeared before morning. Back into his bedroom across the hall, with no trace of his midnight escapades, except for maybe a gift of chocolate or tissue paper — things Herr Edelstein used as "incentives" during music lessons, but rarely ever gave to the little fairy. Felice was even more confused. Was it a human custom to sleep on a friend's floor? To give secret gifts and expect nothing in return? The little fairy always asked Otto in the mornings why he went through such trouble, (and why he stayed in the room, goodness, the frights!) But all answers were cryptic and given without eye contact and hardly heard when Herr Edelstein was listening.
Felice was getting very tired of confusion. He'd long decided Edelweiss was a madhouse. A master who changed moods constantly. A duke who hardly behaved like one. A cruel old woman upstairs. A lady with a troubled past, under the spell of an ostrich. How could a fairy be any more odd? Why did he have to do all the chores around the place? Otto was the one whining and screeching whenever Edelstein was in a foul mood.
A bit of movement. Coming from the closet. Felice lay absolutely still as he hunched within his blankets. Tonight's dinner had been particularly bland and awful. Potatoes and dense bread and not much else. It was too dense for him, and he'd lain with a stomachache ever since coming to bed. Was this that shrouded hour of the midnight guest?
He waited, but the door never opened. Instead, the scratching in his closet continued, until a dark board popped up, and Otto crawled, dusty and spluttering, out of the floor. He dragged his pillow and blanket behind him and plopped down to curl up on the floor at the foot of the fairy's bed.
"Is my floor warmer or something?"
"Can't sleep," Otto mumbled. Then he popped up, shivering and taking in the sight of a very awake Felice. "Oh! Em… did I wake you?"
"No, I've been awake. Struggling to digest human food again. Can you please tell me why you keep sleeping in here? Herr Edelstein's not around."
The poor boy had been caught. No use being cryptic now. "Better ventilation," he said. "My room's nice, but sometimes, when my cousin is brooding, he'll light a bunch of candles downstairs, and the smoke ends up in my room. This one's much cleaner."
"But why this room?"
"It used to be an empty room, and I'm a man of habits."
"But not a gentleman. You keep scaring me. I find candy under my pillow like you're stalking me or something."
Otto scoffed. "I thought you'd like it. My cousin has done nothing but eye you with contempt since the day you arrived."
"I thought you liked that."
"Well, it backfired. He doesn't torment me any less. He just has another person to torment now. We're two good-for-nothings in this house instead of just one. And I'm the one who gets sick and whiny easier, so he yells at me more. You're just an all-around burden to him."
Felice gasped. "But that's just what he thinks! You don't think like that, right? We're good kids! You're a good kid! You're weird, but you give me candy, at least. I like you, Otto. I thought we were friends."
Otto gave a little smile, then cuddled into his pillow again. "Thank you for being kind. It's really hard for a person like me to have friends."
"A place like Edelweiss needs kindness. It needs better food, too."
"What did you have in mind?"
"Pasta!"
"Is that tough to make?"
"Not at all! It's only flour and eggs and some salt and olive oil! The same things that go into cake!"
"Then let's go make some. Right now."
"Now!?"
Before Felice knew it, Otto had torn him out of bed and marched him downstairs to the shadowy kitchen, where he crawled up on the countertops to fetch ingredients. Flour. (He spilled some.) Eggs. (He dropped some.) Olive oil. (The bottle slipped out of his hands, and Felice barely saved it from shattering on the floor.)
"You could've just let me get them. I can fly."
Otto winced. "I'm so used to crawling up on the counter. Now what do we do?"
The fairy ducked low, ears pricking at the sound of tinkling keys and a somber melody streaming out from the receiving room. Edelstein was awake! And no doubt he'd come in here for a midnight snack after his passionate drivel. Swiftly, Felice flapped his wings until the cloud of flour Otto had spilled swept itself away into the corners of the baseboard.
"I don't think we should be down here," he whispered. "We're not the only ones."
"I know. But he's only started. A sonata can last for hours sometimes. Let's make your pasta."
"A-all right, but I really don't want to get caught!"
"I'll take the blow for you. Don't worry. Now, do we mix this stuff together?"
"Eh… usually I do it on the counter, but let's use a bowl so we don't make a mess."
Felice flew up and opened the cupboards until he found a mixing bowl. Down on the floor, he showed Otto how to pile up the flour, then make a well in the middle for the eggs and slowly mix them together from the inside rim to the outside. This proved a delightful task for Otto. His blue eyes sparkled with the idea of getting messy, and soon his hands were all squishy and sticky with dough. He'd formed the perfect ball in no time, and when Felice instructed him to knead and fold it, he became a quick expert. In went the salt and the olive oil, and messier Otto's hands became.
"Yay! You learn so fast! Now we let it sit for a while."
"Sit? Why? I don't like waiting."
"It has to settle. Gel together. Where's your icebox?"
Otto showed him, but not before he ripped off a chunk of pasta dough and chewed on it.
A dark shadow fell across the kitchen floor, and Felice realized too late the sparkling spots cast around the room from moonlight reflecting off his wings. He folded them down and crawled quickly as he could to where Otto hid in the undersink cabinet.
The boy duke sat statue-still, almost as if the blood in his veins had quit flowing altogether. His chest never moved. No air entered nor left his lungs. He only stared at the crack between cabinet doors with his large, shining eyes. Like Edelstein's eyes, Otto's were dark with presence. There was something in them that Felice couldn't look at for long, lest an odd, primal, emotional sensation ball up in his throat and repel him. It wasn't bad, just… wrong. Like his total opposite. A wicked complement. High where Felice was low. Powerful where he was powerless. An estranged energy.
Dark magic, Felice knew, but he dare not say it aloud. That fairy blood in you is dark… I can feel it.
Right outside, Edelstein muttered to himself, the way a madman might when considering his life. "Eliza" was uttered. And at one point, so was "Gigi."
"My papà?" Felice whispered. Otto's hand was on his mouth in the fraction of a second, and those large dark eyes were trained on his face.
"What… flour? Who left this out?"
The fairy's wings quivered, cramped by the tight space.
"Oh, it was probably me. There should be more in here, though. Did I make two batches of cake or three?"
The icebox was opened. Felice sucked in his breath, then craned his neck to see between the doors of the cupboard. He saw Edelstein, in his nightgown, rifling between the contents. They'd shoved the pasta ball to the very back, but it was still quite large and moist. Those spidery fingers would feel it!
Wings fluttered harder. Otto elbowed Felice's side, and he squeaked.
Edelstein brought out the cake platter. He gave a mournful look at the lonely last slice, then put it back where he'd found it and slammed the door so hard the whole box rattled.
"What are you doing? Sneaking cake just like when you were that freak of a child? It brings no comfort in the end. You'll only regret it in the morning. Let's not forget you cursed your own uncle within an inch of his life over a slice of cake."
"He's a cakeaholic?"
Otto grinned and raised his eyebrows in a "Yes."
"My father a vulture. My mother a crane. And they hatched an ostrich. Even if I don't eat my feelings, I'm not even handsome. She only sees me as a project. There's no way she even remotely likes me. Ooh…"
And so he left the kitchen cakeless and no happier than before. Otto and Felice waited for a few minutes, then scrambled out to retrieve their dough ball.
"Can we just eat it?" Otto asked.
"No. We have to cook it. Get some water in a pot."
Otto did so while Felice rolled out the dough ball and cut it into strips. These he dropped into the pot.
"Okay, Otto. Hold the edges with pot holders. We're not allowed to use the stove, so I'm going to heat up the pot with magic. Are you ready?"
Otto nodded.
Felice stood back, wings fluttering and fingers wiggling. He closed his eyes, then hummed a little melody he'd made up to keep warm during the winter months. He twirled and flapped while his throat tingled with warmth. Oh, this felt so so good! When was the last time he used magic without that nasty potion of sulfur killing every spark?
In minutes, the water in Otto's pot steamed. Then a bubble broke on the surface, and another, and another. The water was excited, bubbling and boiling with the most cheerful sound in the little fairy's life. Otto coughed a bit from the hot steam in his face, so Felice took the pot from him, continuing to sing until the pasta strips were all bloated with moisture and ready to eat.
"Aw, this stuff will just taste as bland as everything else without any sauce!"
"But it's your favorite," Otto said.
"I guess you're right. Thank you, Otto. This was really nice of you. I'd never be brave enough to come down here alone."
"You said we are friends," Otto said, as if utterly baffled by the concept. "I liked making mischief with you, too."
"Mischief? Was this mischief?"
"I felt it in my blood. It was true mischief."
Felice cocked his head at this, but Otto told him not to worry about it. Instead, he finished gorging his portion of pasta, then put the pot away and led Felice back upstairs.
"Are you going to sleep in my room again? To get away from the smoke?"
"Just until morning. You won't mind, right?"
"No. As long as you're comfortable… and you don't get up in bed with me."
"Smoke?"
A dark figure stood out in the hallway. Whether Roderich or Ilse, the boys could not be sure. They scrambled into the room and dove into bed before the shadow could pursue them and lay with thundering hearts for hours after.
But no matter what fate awaited them in the morning, each was filled with the pleasure of pasta and the jittery feeling of friendship in his heart.
Cupcake Capers
for Cat on the table
Otto claimed he was a master of disguise, but when all was said and done, Felice looked like a potato sack.
Gone were the shaped trousers and the shirt of a flowy material. In came the button-down and waistcoat with holes bitten in the back. Wings were concealed beneath an overcoat that at best rendered them lumps. Shoes sized for a toddler were stowed away and replaced by a larger pair, stuffed with cotton and balled-up paper. And the pointed ears? Why, they were crudely taped into folds.
"These clothes are so heavy. How do you move around in them?" Felice asked.
"They aren't heavy to me. I've got thicker bones, and my feet aren't baby-sized. I don't know how those stick-thin ankles keep you on the ground."
The fairy pouted at this, but quickly went back to twitching his wings under the heavy coat. The ear tape was sticking in his hair. He tried to separate the strands, and the whole ear popped up again.
"You said you didn't want people staring at you."
"Well, yeah. I don't want to make Herr Edelstein uneasy. He said I'm supposed to act human while I'm living here. I don't know how to act human, but maybe I can look human."
Otto shrugged. "Then you're acting the part. Lying about who you are is a very human concept. Now, don't make eye contact, don't hop when you're walking, and certainly don't say hello to people in the street. You'll pass as human. Only thing I'd say is your face is too pretty for a boy."
"Eh!? I've never gotten that impression!" He said, kneading his cheeks. "It's not a perfect complexion. I think I — yeah, I've still got that lump on my head where one of my antennae used to be. I was born with them, and they fell off when I was a week old, but one stump didn't dry up like it was supposed to—"
"You can't tell every human you meet about your antenna stump. Just get comfortable and let's get to town. I'm starving. I want cake or something."
So Felice finished fidgeting and laced the borrowed shoes as tight as he could — still too loose! Then he and Otto tromped down the stairs to the entryway, where Herr Edelstein was waiting.
"What's this? Why is he wearing your clothes?"
"Felice wants to be human," Otto said.
"For a day!" The fairy squeaked when he caught the disapproving glare.
"Am I going to find bite marks in the back of that shirt?"
"Maybe," Otto said.
"Menace," the master muttered.
Onward to Birngarten. Autumn colors had taken the alpine landscape and turned it into a fiery palette of oranges and smokey grays. Felice enjoyed the warmth the coat could give, but his wings were all stiff and stuck beneath the fabric. Fairy dust was chafing and sticking to his skin like a glittery sweat.
"We must run some errands. I'd have Darleen do them, but some stinking imp's snatched her nephew, and now she's in Thajos for a funeral without a body. First we'll go to the apothecary," Edelstein explained.
"To see his girlfriend," Otto told Felice.
The ostrich man didn't care to refute it.
The children lagged behind the infamous Roderich Edelstein for as long as they could. Felice feared he was receiving stares, but Otto explained it was more Roderich who attracted attention, "being a disturbed orphan and all." Roderich slipped Otto a few choice curses for disclosing that information, and the younger boy only held his chin higher.
Eventually, the two grew tired of waiting for Roderich to end his conversation with Eliza at the apothecary — a heated talk about echinacea and its uses. This was "society talk," Otto said. Neither Rod nor Eliza would address their feelings directly, and so they "shot the breeze." Hands were examined. Hair was twisted. Necklaces and rings were played with. Eye contact was made, then broken again. Faces were made. Faces were softened.
"He should tell her about Bach," Felice said.
Otto wheezed.
"Are you still hungry? We should ask if we can find a cake for you."
"Oh, I already know where we can get some cake. Just follow me."
"Wait! Eh…"
Otto had already flown out the door, leaving Felice alone. To his left was Roderich Edelstein, engaged in meaningful meaningless conversation, and to his right was rule-breaking and antics and a promise of cake.
He was a bit hungry.
Otto wasn't difficult to find. A young boy with silver-buckled shoes and shiny blond hair all curled and combed back stood out in a crowd. (Although Otto's was only an attempt to recreate the noble look. No one had lived to teach it to him.)
Next to him, Felice looked like a raggedy kid in the best hand-me-downs soap could clean. A "country girl to show around town," Otto teased. Felice pouted and tried to slap him on the shoulder, but his hands were "so dainty they felt like a butterfly's wing," and so the fairy was ultimately defeated by Ducal Cheek.
"This is what I meant," Otto said, pointing to a low building in a completely different part of town than the sketchy green apothecary. Its windows boasted pastel curtains that rudely complemented the autumn tones outside. The boy duke pressed his face up against the glass and wiggled like an excited dog. Within were cakes. Big cakes. Small cakes. Layer cakes and fruit cakes. Kuchen and Torte.
"Wow, those look so fancy! We don't have anything like that in Allegria. I can already taste the sugar!"
"Indeed! They're not as good as the ones my cousin bakes, but they are excellent. Especially the ones with buttercream. Or maybe the ganache. One of those is my favorite. Or even both," Otto said, patting his grumbling stomach. Then he fell completely out of his typical faux-gentleman posture and went about wiggling his hips like a kid. Fingers curled into beastly claws, and the wild child was on his way into the cake shop to taste what wonders lay within.
The place was steeped in sugary sweetness. Felice felt a little heavier just standing on the pink shag doormat — not that fairies knew what heaviness felt like. He pushed up his sleeves and eyed the frosted creations just ready to be boxed up and enjoyed. Otto was eyeing them too… and eating them.
"Otto! What are you doing!? You can't just take those!"
Otto was over at a table where a large spread of purple-flowered and sugar-glazed cupcakes sat idle. One by one, with no grace or pretense, he stuffed them in his mouth and spat the wrappers into his hand. He'd swallowed a baker's dozen before the little fairy grabbed his arms and tried desperately to pull him back from the table.
"Relax, Feli!"
"No, Otto! You can't take anything!"
"What's wrong with you? I always take these ones. Get your measly insect arms off," Otto said before managing to stuff two cupcakes in his mouth at once. He swallowed them wrappers and all, and Felice winced when he saw the strange bulge in Otto's neck at the action.
"There's no one around… maybe just one…" the fairy said. He picked up a cupcake and licked the frosting. Somehow purple tasted purple! All sweet and fruity, like cool blueberries had been whipped up into a delightful cream. Felice licked the whole crown before biting into the fluffy warmth of the cake itself. The batter had also been infused with blueberry juice. Beneath the overcoat, his wings twitched and tried to flitter.
"You're eating it wrong. You have to eat the cake and frosting together. Like this," Otto said, stuffing another cupcake right between his teeth. The young duke had frosting smeared all over his fingers and lips, and his jabot was littered with crumbs.
Felice refused to eat another, so Otto went ahead and finished off the spread. At least thirty cupcakes disappeared into his stomach. And the boy wasn't green in the least!
"You'll get sick from all those. Just one was enough for me!"
"My stomach is bigger than yours."
"Your cousin's is even bigger!"
"Don't tell him that. I hear him grumbling at night about how he's starting to get squishy around the middle."
"Really? I think he looks fine in the waistcoat."
"You wait 'til you find him sewing a button back on."
"You mean humans can outgrow their clothes just by eating too much!? I always thought that picture of Herr Edelstein's father was a fake! He was so round!"
Otto produced a wistful smirk. "Ulrich really was that round."
On one of the table's chairs was another box of cupcakes. Instantly, Otto was ripping into them, body quivering and hands shaking with cakey greed.
"No," Felice said.
"What? Just a few more. They're so good!"
Felice grabbed the boy around the middle and this time wrenched him backwards so hard he flew over into another table, knocking a cake box to the floor. A dark chocolate cake smothered with ganache rolled out. Otto bent down and took a bit to taste the goodness.
"First, you're gonna be really sick tonight. Second, you're probably cursed."
"Why would I be cursed?"
"Because, Otto!" Felice whined in a way that sent shivers down Otto's spine. That magic voice… it was too powerful. The boy duke licked his fingers and got up off the floor immediately, backing away from the mess. "If you take something, you have to give something back! You have to pay for all those cupcakes now, or at least do something, because if you don't, part of yourself will be lost, too! If you have nothing to give, then those cupcakes will have part of your soul!"
Otto crinkled his nose. "But they're free cupcakes. The ones on that table are always free."
"Free…?"
"Yeah… free… you don't have to pay for them or sign your soul away. Seriously, Felice. Just when I think our cultures aren't that different, you believe in soul-signing?"
"Em… kinda? It's more like… gifts have power. If you receive, you have to give, or you'll be in debt to the world. It's a traditional Allegrian belief. I don't know how much people believe in it anymore, but my family is very traditional because of the music caster blood, so we do all the nature rituals, and the rain dances, and we sing to the plants. Although I don't know how to hear the voice of nature. I don't even think it exists. My grandpa just said he sang to the clouds because they sang to him, but I never heard them singing—"
"Free cupcakes, Felice. It's a done deal. I'm just disappointed I ate most of them."
"You ate all of them! How do you do that!? You're going to get squishy like your cousin!"
Otto burst into laughter. He crossed his arms and backed up until he fell into a certain burgeoning squishiness… Turning around, he saw Roderich, along with Eliza. One was cross, and the other strangely humored.
The cake baker came in, astounded by the empty cupcake table. He then took a peek at the upset cake on the floor and became quite upset himself.
"What? You kids ate all those cupcakes and tried to eat that cake, too!?"
"I'm very sorry!" Felice exclaimed. He untaped his ears and took off the overcoat to reveal his glittery wings. "I'm sorry I ate a cupcake! What can I do to make it up to you? I'm a fairy! I can sing for you! Or I could help make more cupcakes!"
The baker's eyes went wide at the sight of a little fairy spreading glittery dust all over the floor of his shop. A fairy, right here in Birngarten! Not unusual for the family that included the disturbed wizard orphan Roderich Edelstein and his cousin, the wretched boy Duke of Liutberht. Act natural! No offense! The cupcakes would be free again this week…
"Those were free cupcakes for customers to sample… I was just bringing another batch out. You don't have to pay me for eating one!" The baker chuckled.
"But that's not fair! If it's a gift, I have to give one back!"
"Did you like it?"
"Eh? Oh, yes, I did like it! It was so delicious! It was the best cupcake ever!"
"Then the debt is paid. I like hearing happy customers."
"Even if this one ate the rest of the cupcakes?" Herr Edelstein growled, gripping Otto's shoulders tightly between spindly white fingers. The boy duke squirmed under the hold. He was pale, and his blue eyes were narrowed at the ground. He took in a few quick, shallow breaths, then steadied himself, wiping frosting off his lips with his sleeve.
"He can pick up the mess," Eliza suggested. "Though I doubt Otto could really eat that many cupcakes."
"There weren't that many," Otto said.
"Really?" Edelstein asked, gripping tighter.
"Really… but… ooh, I feel sick now. We must go home. Eliza, can you give me something for my stomach?"
He doubled over and leaned closer to the woman, who petted his hair, but refused to let her face soften.
"Help this man clean up the cake first, and then we'll get you something."
Felice had already done so.
A Toothy Tale
for Animetronic
Felice had never swum in a river before.
Otto never knew winged fairies could swim at all until the other explained it to him. Wings were certainly waterproof. Washing them frequently was an integral part of their care — especially once a fairy got older and his wings started producing more and more greasy glitter. And so swimming did no harm at all to a fairy's wellbeing. It was the same fun any young human could have.
"I've only swum in the sea before. My mamma taught me. She grew up on a seasalt farm, so she's great at swimming."
"Well, I'm not that great at swimming, but it's been so hot, the creek's slow and gentle, isn't it?"
"Yeah!"
This the fairy exclaimed before thrusting his arms forward and making a wave splash all over Otto. The mountain creek was just cool enough to make him shiver when the silvery droplets pricked his skin. He closed his eyes and laughed, then splashed the fairy back, earning a high-pitched squeal.
On the bank sat Eliza, trying to knit something with a ball of cotton. It was going to be a vest, right? Maybe not with all those dropped stitches. Sighing, she tugged out the twisted yarn and settled on a scarf. Something to keep that ostrich nose from getting cold and red in the winter.
How nice of Roderich to ask her to "get that absolute menace and the squeaky freak out of the house." She rather liked spending time with the children, disturbing as Otto's behavior could get. She thought a day in the orchard might be nice, but that was off-limits, and so she brought them to the creek, where Otto immediately stripped off all his clothes and waded out into the muddy water to splash about like a sea monster.
Felice whizzed his wings, sending a torrent of droplets spraying all over the boy duke. Otto retaliated by diving down and scooping up a mud pie, which he whipped at the back of the fairy's head. The fairy was willing to get dirty, so he sucked in his breath, then popped under the surface to scoop up his own glob of mud. But when he came up again, Otto had disappeared. The fairy waited, but no mud ball attack came.
Then he screeched. Otto's arms had wrapped around his stomach, and he was dunked back into the green haze of the water. He flailed his arms and flapped his wings until the other boy was forced to let go. Then he coughed and spluttered and moaned, paddling until he could halfway pull himself up on a rock. His wings fluttered to dry, splattering Eliza and her work. The woman slumped her shoulders. Maybe she should get to darning up the holes Otto kept tearing in his socks.
"I said no rough play!" She shouted at Otto, who had emerged from the water and was laughing like a kraken, blue eyes sparkling with their own brand of mischief. Felice continued to moan, until Eliza set down her needles and went to retrieve him. At least the fairy boy was still wearing underwear. The nerve of that little duke sometimes…
"I was just playing!" Otto whined.
"You need to think about how you're playing. Feli didn't want to be surprised, did you, bug?"
Felice shook his head, whimpering.
Eliza gave him a pat. "You're fine. Otto, finish your splashing. There's zucchini at home I can make."
"Zucchini? Blech!"
"That's what your cousin said, too, but you're both eating it, or I'm going to lock you both in your rooms until you do."
"I hope you don't marry him! 'Cause then we could never have cake!"
"Could you please cut the zucchini like pasta?" Felice asked.
"Just for you I will, bug. HERMANN OTTO!"
Otto was floating on his back just to spite her. This was all good fun until a turtle with two white, knifelike fangs swam up to bite his left arm. He screamed and cried and floundered all the way to the edge of the creek, where he hauled himself up just like Felice. Eliza slapped him a towel and dry clothes, then tied another towel tightly around the wound.
He whimpered terribly all the way back to Edelweiss. Even Felice was stunned the boy duke was capable of such fuss. His eyes were puffy, his skin was all muddy, and his blond hair was all twisted into knots by the time he was hauled into the front entryway and rushed up the stairs to take a bath. Felice followed; he was smelly in his own right from the sediment. A good scrub of soap all along his hair and wings, and he'd be the soft, shiny fairy he always was. The two waited for Eliza to come back with some proper bandages and ointment.
"That was super fun, Otto! We have to thank Miss Eliza for taking us swimming. I liked it better than staying inside with Herr Edelstein all day."
Otto just moaned, sitting on the edge of the tub. His injured arm bounced up and down.
"What was that thing? A turtle?"
"Wohe," Otto mumbled. "A fanged turtle. They live in the river and bite naughty children."
Felice giggled. "Then you know you were naughty!"
"Why aren't you upset anymore? You were all snot-faced when you crawled out of the river, and now you're laughing again."
"Because when one fun thing ends, you can always look forward to another! We swam, and now I get pasta! Well, kind of pasta."
"Hey… Felice… can you go ask Eliza if she can make just a little cake with that? She'll say no, but maybe she'll say no less if it's you asking. Please? Right now? I need to know before I take my bath. Otherwise I'll be thinking about it the whole time. I'm hungry already."
His stomach gurgled, proving his point.
"Eh, okay. I can do that. I'll be quick!"
"Take the time you need. This is very important."
As soon as Felice had left the room, Otto tore off the towel around his arm. His heart nearly stopped. Except for a smear of blood and the crust of discarded scabs, the soft, pale skin was flawless. No punctures. No tears. Not even a scratch.
He let out a shaky breath, then peered out into the hallway to make sure absolutely no one was coming. Then he closed the bathroom door and went to the tub. The arm he ran under some clean water, to wash off the blood. Now the skin was even cleaner. Even more perfect.
He looked at his reflection in the mirror. Dirty. Disheveled. But otherwise normal. Normal for a seven-year-old boy? He had no way of knowing. His body had grown so much without his control, but sometimes he had to hold back. Stay smaller. Keep up with expectations. Starve for an hour, if he had to. Felice was no fair gauge of size. He was a fairy, with antenna stumps, who grew and developed on a completely different timescale. But he worked somewhat. He brought peace of mind, somewhat. He was a wellspring of love, somewhat.
Otto groaned. His stomach was eating itself, and zucchini wouldn't cut it. He needed sugar. So much sugar. And the more he thought about it, the more he could feel his insides churning like slimy gears, grinding his energy into meaningless dust until he was all tired and weak and sick again. Sick enough for Roderich to kick him and send him dirty looks when Eliza wasn't there.
It didn't matter, he told himself. He had to act like the suspicions weren't brewing up all around. He didn't even remember what he was supposed to look like. He'd always been this. His name was Otto. He was the Duke of Liutberht, cousin to Roderich of Edelweiss…
As long as he kept up the act, there would be a Duke of Liutberht.
A light pounding in the hallway, like a butterfly's footsteps. Otto jerked. His arm! It was healed! What had happened? A scrape? A bite? A fanged turtle bite! Fangs!
Otto's canine teeth lengthened and sharpened into fangs. He found the place of the phantom wound, then bit down, hard, until blood spattered the floor and his whole mouth went warm. He whipped around and spat into the bathtub. The pain was intense — more intense than the turtle's bite. Quickly, he switched on the faucet and gulped in mouthfuls of water, coughing and spitting down the drain.
The creaking of the door flooded his veins with ice, until he remembered he'd already bitten himself again. Felice came in, with Eliza behind him. The latter seized Otto's wounded arm and thrust it under the cold faucet, scrubbing it until it washed clean and pressing until the blood was slowed. Otto just whined and whined all the way until his arm was slathered in ointment and bandaged.
"You strip down and keep that out of the tub while you take your bath, okay? God, child, how do you do this to yourself!?"
Otto's eyes widened, then closed. It wasn't a literal question.
He sat through his bubble bath while Felice chattered at him, waiting for his own. The wound tingled and prickled under the bandage — healing again. And steadily he grew hungrier and hungrier, cursing the vile woman for denying him cake. He'd thought her a suitable mother figure, but she was far too harsh sometimes.
"Hey… Otto?"
"Yeah, sprite?"
"I saw those fangs. I know why you have to keep secrets now. Are you a monster?"
"Shut the hell up right now, and never ask that again."
"But are you a monster? I won't tell anyone. I'm your friend. Please. I'm a fairy. I can sense energies humans can't. There's something dark in you."
"I'm… I'm... " He stuttered for an instant, then snapped his fingers in front of the fairy's face. "You saw nothing."
Felice's eyes went blank for a second. Then he shook his head and looked on, confused.
"Are you done soaking soon? I want to soak so I can have pasta!"
There was still a Duke of Liutberht.
Roderich and the Ring
for Syntax-N
It was a bit of spring cleaning in the middle of the night.
The Black Study of Ulrich Edelstein had swollen with dust long before his soul was encased in stone. And now, many years after, the mounds of gray and stagnant fuzz upon the mantle had grown impressive. Books of dark spines and yellowed pages lay entombed forever by the pressure of their fellows on the shelves. Smoke stained the ceiling. Brass candleholders stood tall and tarnished on each edge of the bureau. One of these was completely unusable — a candle had melted right into the dirty metal, and no amount of burning or digging could relieve it.
Roderich Edelstein, living son of the late Ulrich, trailed his spidery fingers over the mantle and grimaced at how white they looked against the lightning of the outside storm. He would not sleep. Between worries and nightmares, he was locked in midnight limbo — the same old, shadowy friend of his youth. He dared not enter the Black Study at this hour, but all the same, it drew him in. It was like that sometimes. Some dark and welcoming energy pleased his senses and pulled him to the smokey, sulfury room, where he would relive the horrors of his past in perfect clarity, and emerge stronger as a result.
Lightning flashed in Roderich's purple eyes, and the resulting thunder split the atmosphere with the force of some imagined god. He dared not tremble, in case his father were watching. Instead, he resumed dusting the shelves with a blackened rag. Each warped floorboard and ash-bitten prong of the fire grate was earnestly wiped. The glass vials of grease and sulfur were sorted, then replaced on their forgotten shelf. Here, he found another box of homemade candles. There, a chest of bottles filled with tar. And in one drawer under the bureau, he found a collection of skulls — humanoid in appearance, but with sharp cheekbones and jaws full of fangs.
Twice he thought the fire flared to life behind him before sputtering out again. Once, he heard some phantom cry from a tome on the lowest shelf. The skulls seemed to watch him from where he set them on the bureau — hollow eyes forever tuned to the flames that carved them.
"This is unnatural," the master muttered, hands shaking more every minute. "How could he live with this place? Claiming he was the truest working man and cheating the world from behind with this blasphemy? He was an utter fool. Why does he hold ultimate control over my mind?"
A faded daguerreotype stood on the bureau — the Edelsteins, with Ulrich and Gertrude and their children spaced between them, an eight-year-old Roderich in the middle.
"Dark circles under his eyes. Too skinny. Shaking at everything. Wretched child," he remarked, and he was surprised how easy it was to pass judgment. "But I'm grown up now. I'm not some snively little boy afraid of the imps in his closet. I can take care of myself perfectly fine."
He sat himself at the bureau and opened the top drawer, containing his father's wands. They all rolled forward, eager for cleaning. Roderich took them out one by one and prepared to polish them, just as he'd seen his father do so many years ago. In a fluid motion, his left hand searched the drawer for more wands and brushed up against something small. He pulled it out and found it was a ring — a single, silver band with a colorless crystal.
Roderich remembered this ring. His mother had sometimes worn it on special occasions. But to find it here in the Black Study, it must have been a dark artifact. Even now, under the flashes of lightning, it called out to Roderich with a voice of misty silk.
I am a thing of destiny from the place called Drizendorn,
And those who think of wearing me will see themselves reborn~
Roderich snorted. The so-called Fortune-Telling Ring that could show the wearer his destiny. Roderich needed no such thing. To ruthless fire or brittle ice he would fall, and he hoped it was ice. He would never become what he was not. He was an artist. A musician. A man of graceful limbs and a view into the world of directionless nonsense. Some part of him absolutely hated this, but to please his father was a disgusting thought…
It's too hard to express that softer part of yourself… too late… too embarrassing… You've assumed command of the household. What an accomplishment!
Would he please his father? Or would he even… surpass him?
Roderich slipped off the iron band he'd worn since Liutberht and replaced it with the Ring of Destiny. The metal squeezed hungrily around his finger, and he felt some phantom tooth prick his skin. A bead of blood dyed the crystal crimson before it lightened to a hideous green.
I create a quick Elixir for the wisher well to see
In days or months or years to come, who he will come to be~
The voice drowned out the rest of the storm, and Roderich felt himself dipping lower and lower. His heart was racing. The fire flickered and flared in the ghostly grate, and the fairy skulls gnashed their teeth. But Roderich was focused well on the image of his father in his mind. Ulrich, who had called him weak, useless, fed him potions that would not cure and draughts that made him sicker. Ulrich, who never believed in Roderich, who named him heir only to spite his living relatives, who called him a cursed son, a tainted son… Ulrich, who saw the truth.
Thin lips pressed to the crystal, and Roderich drank in the Elixir of Destiny. His mind seemed to split. One side cowered under the prospect of the future. He would never prove his father any different. He was still too thin, still sick and worrisome. But the other side swelled like an eagle. He would become ruthless. In fact, he was meant to. It was his birthright and his divine fate—
"Geh!"
Roderich gasped. His heart was racing even faster, fluttering in his chest at a dangerous speed. Power was creeping steadily through his veins — a tingly sensation that loosened his muscles and seemed to melt his bones where he stood. He fell back in the chair, sliding backwards until his shoulders cracked on the back wall. He felt hot. Steamy. Sweat was pouring off his skin and splattering in hissing puddles upon the floor. Parts of his body seized up and vibrated. His hands began to shake uncontrollably.
Then came the feeling in his stomach.
The cramp came like a crash of thunder. He felt his insides gurgling and bubbling like he'd poisoned himself. Something was brewing up inside, changing, like the magic Elixir were actually working to make him stronger. Yes, so right! Roderich clenched his teeth. That ruthless part of him had been waiting for this.
The churning intensified. Trembling hands reached down to feel along his middle. The flesh quivered beneath the waistcoat at his touch. A peculiar fullness was centering deep within. A fullness that was spreading and pressing outward, quickly becoming a heaviness.
A loud, bubbly groan, and the surface of his stomach began to undulate, swelling and expanding right into his hands. His breathing quickened. Trousers and waistcoat were growing tight. He gasped when he saw the bulge traveling down his torso like a gelatinous slug were growing in his belly. No, that was his belly. He was growing fatter. The fizzing pressure within was filling him out in every direction, beginning with his belly, then working down to his legs and swelling out his arms.
He poked the soft new flesh, fascinated. "I'm… I'm not thin and sickly anymore. I'm growing into who I'm meant to be!"
He forced himself out of the chair, letting out a pained groan. The gurgling pressure intensified as doughy flesh spilled out the bottom of his shirt. This was absolute madness. Any other night, he'd scorn this kind of cake-induced nightmare, but if this were his destiny, to be free of the ostrichy constraints and grow to have such a domineering presence…
The tingly feeling returned, prickling in his bones, which grew firmer and stronger. His heart grew in his chest and steadied its pulse — no more of that irregular nonsense. Muscles all balanced, pulsating under his skin with a pleasurable warmth.
"I told you! I told you I wouldn't be like this forever! I will surpass you! Ach!"
He seized his arms, a writhing itch taking place beneath his shirtsleeves. One look at shaking hands exposed the strange new development. They were bloating with the same squelchy vigor as the rest of his body, but the skin was darkening into an angry peach. The tiny wrinkles swelled out, then retracted into a foreign set, all while the snakey veins pulsed and popped from his skin. Fingernails were broadening, then cracking at the edges like they hadn't been groomed in weeks. A tear in the sleeve finally forced a view at his arms. Deep patches of hair were cropping up, covering the whole of the growing limbs as they crackled and stretched.
There was one last heave of change. The gurgling of before was now a low, liquidy rumbling beneath mounds of squish. His body swelled enough for the waistcoat to snap a button before settling in its size with an audible glunk. He made out the skin of his belly and arms continuing to tan and take on a more leathery texture. Was it aging?
This was surely an instance of his future self. The aching in his feet had to be more from age than from their sudden, mushrooming growth. A certain pain in his back was acting up, too. The spine cracked and bulged from the skin before sinking. Shoulders snapped like twigs and pulled apart, broadening. Puffy hands traveled up to his neck, then to his face. A painful pulse slithered up through his chest. Everything was bloating. Neck thickened. Face swelled and sagged. His nose drew in a bit, curling into a squat, vulturish hook. His neck was riddled with stubble that pricked his fingers. His hair was drier and shaggier.
The horror ceased altogether, then. Roderich took a few deep breaths, then examined himself in full. He wasn't grossly large like his uncle Albert, but there was a respectable amount of pudge bulging about his frame. Enough to warrant a bigger set of clothes. His hands weren't the thin, spidery piano-playing ones he remembered, but strong, large, useful for gesturing and pointing and seizing and forcing things…
"This is… " Roderich voiced. His voice was deeper, a bit gravelly from the smoke in his lungs. His vision had dimmed, but the spectacles fit much better on his nose now. "No, this… I… it can't be. I've transformed into…"
Lightning flashed, and he saw his outline in the glass of the picture frame.
He was Ulrich Edelstein, and he was ruthless.
"I'm… you. I… This can't be my destiny. Becoming my father? I don't want this. Change me into something else. I won't have it! I won't be him!"
But he'd wanted this so much. That ruthless side of Roderich's brain, the side which had tried and failed before to squash the other, finally found the strength to rip out of its cage and seize full control. No more of this rebellion. Stop resisting and accept the truth. The original Ulrich was right all along. If one had the power, he'd use it. That was human. That was natural.
He ignored the protests from that flowery, cake-eating, musical romantic pleading for his Eliza who wanted him to change and love his weaknesses, and he stormed out of the Black Study. Out of the haze of dreams and into the real world. He felt incredible. Reborn into his true self, his destiny.
But the transformation was incomplete. A piece of the old Roderich still remained. Weak, childish, sniveling, and in every way impish. How could he allow such a thing to live in Edelweiss right under his nose? He could put it in its place, but how long would that last? No, imps were hardy creatures. They could survive torment as long as they had something to cling to. They had to be destroyed.
He would destroy the last shreds of his weakness and become who he was meant to be.
He tromped downstairs — no more of that hapless trundling, and entered the main study. Up on a high shelf was a ring box, and within, an iron band with a cross engraved in the bezel. The master seized the ring in its box, then tromped back up the stairs, to the bedroom at the center of the second floor.
"Boy. Wake up."
The boy stirred in bed, then poked his pale face up out of the covers. His gaze narrowed at the sight of Roderich in his nightgown. Long fingers fiddled with a ring box like a spider wrapping its prey in silk.
"What do you want, cousin? It has to be after midnight."
"I have something for you. It's a present."
He came around and opened the ring box, setting it on Otto's nightstand. Otto recoiled, ducking his head and refusing to look at the thing.
"It's the ring your father wore as the Duke of Liutberht. It's rightfully yours now, and I think you're old enough to take care of it."
"Thanks, but I don't want it right now. I'm only eight years old. It doesn't fit me anyway."
"It will fit you in time. You just need to grow. My own father gave me a ring when I was young. Now I'm giving you yours. It's iron. It will protect you."
"Protect me from what?"
"From evil. From nasty, stinking imps. You know iron burns them. An iron ring is a thing of power. Every son of a discriminating bloodline should wear one with pride."
A wildness sparked in Otto's eyes, but he only nodded and drew in a slow breath.
"Thank you, cousin. It's very kind of you to trust me with this. I'll look at it in the morning. Goodnight, now."
"Goodnight. Sweet dreams," Roderich yawned as he strode out of the room.
"My father…" Otto whispered to the darkness and the storm. He reached toward the ring, but his reflexes dared not let him touch it. Instead, he threw himself beneath the bed, where the loose floorboard kept his secrets. He wriggled down into the hole, then crawled through the dusty city of spiders before emerging in Felice's room. The boy duke's whole body trembled, and he felt tears pricking his eyes as he descended upon the fairy boy.
"Felice. Felice, hey. Hey, Felice, hey. Hey! Hey!"
"What?" Felice groaned.
Otto reached out and squeezed him tight, sobbing softly into his shoulder. His nails jutted into tiny claws, and he gripped so the fairy couldn't even squirm.
"Otto, what do you want this time? We can't make pasta every night. I want to sleep."
"Felice, I have to run away. I can't tell you why, but I have to. He knows. He knows everything. He's going to kill me. I'm so scared."
"What? Who knows? Oh, is this about using Herr Edelstein's cufflinks for cookie art? We wiped them off. It'll be fine."
Otto wept. There was no consoling him.
~N~
Apparently "reharmonizing Bach" is what music majors do for fun in the summer… yeah… I don't know what it means either.
It's the one-year anniversary of this story! Wow! One year of experiences shoved into these episodes. Some are more personal than others, but I have LOVED getting to know Gilbert and Roderich and Fritz and Adela and Luddy and Otto and Felice and Gigi (rip) and Ulrich (not you.) I liked working outside my comfort zone, trying different styles, and continuing to improve my writing.
Anyway, THANK YOU to everyone who gave a prompt for this special extra-long episode! I wrote one per day up until today, and each was really fun! "Flower crowns" for my pal Shrubby AKA drink_respect_lgbt_juice on Insta; "a canon-esque food-stealing scene" for CoveTPeng; "Feli being confused on humans" for Cat on the table; "Otto's odd behaviors" for Animetronic; and my own request which will steer us into the next episode. No teaser this week. It's top secret.
Like my 2000-word vignette style? Try out my crack fic, Prussia Meows!
Published by Syntax-N on FanFiction . Net July 22nd, 2020. Stay hydrated, and do your laundry! Don't repost.