Frayed Knots

by FountainPenguin

"It's not my problem if you're embarrassed, Anti-Cosmo," H.P. said as I hugged my shoulders. He scratched his chin. "Hm. I suppose there's no help for it. If you honestly and truly want to wear a hat, then you'll have to secure a high position of power so no one ever dares to say anything about it that's negative in the least." (Written August 2016 - Ongoing)

18. Cocoa Fever

A/N - This chapter parallels the Origin of the Pixies chapter "Spoonful of Sugar"

(Posted October 16, 2018)

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Cocoa Fever

In which Julius gets a job at the Sugarslew Chocolate Factory during the Spring of the Crashing Pine, and meets two oddly square fairies come the summer season

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White chocolate… was… my ultimate weakness. Truffles, mochas, cookies, éclairs. Bloody Darkness, I'd guzzle the stuff straight from the fountain if I were ever fast enough to reach the table before Mother caught the back of my neck and yanked me down. While I always strove to be a drake of refinement who abstained from sugar at large, the siren song of white chocolate would forever be one I simply couldn't resist.

October 13th was Patrons' Day, and oh what a celebration it was that particular year. I'd spent the last several dozen holidays at Frederick Shinesworth's, but this time, I caved in. I came home to the Blue Castle, and I ate white chocolate. Why, I even invited Noon to join our festivities that year, and he came with his black and silver hair tied up and a fiction book under one arm. Entire extended families arrived behind us… along with a few particularly colourful characters.

Extra emphasis placed on colourful, I decided after literally bumping into the Purple Robe himself. He wore his street clothes that day, with no hood on his head. I politely took the fault for the collision myself, as it was obvious his mind wasn't all there at the moment. Smiling thinly, I fixed my monocle (a recent addition to my look, gifted to me by Ashley on my last birthday) against my eye. I liked it so much better than my old glasses, but it would still take some getting used to.

"Oh, I say! Sir, you're terribly sugarloaded. Might I suggest sitting down for a matter of moments? I can show you to a bench if you would like that."

Shamaiin giggled and swirled his spiced cocoa around with a spoon. His words slurred when he informed me, "Kitty tells me about the funniest boats."

I winced at his volume, pressing back my ears. Well, "Kitty" was more likely than not short for "Kitigan," Anti-Bryndin's private name. As for "boats," it was possible he had confused the word with "jokes" whilst in his sugared-up state. "Ah… boats, you say? Hm. Yes, how very lovely. Do tell."

"Boats and bread," Shamaiin went on dreamily. He raised his mug to his lips. "And corks to get. I'm one of those."

I wasn't sure what he meant by that. Fortunately, it didn't matter. Anti-Bryndin appeared then and placed one hand on Shamaiin's shoulders. With the other, he handed me his glass of orange drink.

"I will handle him, Julius. You are welcome to run along."

"Yes, High Count."

With a purr in his words, Anti-Bryndin gave Shamaiin's wrist a gentle tug. "Ah, come with me and we shall sit together as two people sit alone, Shamaiin. I know a room where we can go to sit in private."

"Mmhm. That sounds nice. Ever notice how 'corks' is such a strange word, Kit?"

"And that's the Robe I campaigned for," Noon told me, the amusement dripping from his voice. He kept his hands in his pockets, somehow still keeping his book from falling to the floor.

"He's a nice old chap, really. Or at least, that's what Anti-Bryndin always says. He took the fellow's stroke favour just after the elections, you know."

Noon's eyebrows shot into his hair. "Did he really? Shopped in public jewellry stores for it and everything? You'd think I'd have heard. Okay, spill. I assume the one Shamaiin picked out for him is purple."

"But of course!" I pointed my claw down my throat to indicate the tongue stud one was sure to find buried in the back of Anti-Bryndin's mouth among all his others. Such was Anti-Fairy tradition among the adults, and where the High Count was concerned especially. Elaborate jewels for tongue piercings symbolised deep and committed bonds of friendship, although if we're being wholly honest, I fully expected to get my first stud within five minutes of my renaming ceremony. As I've stated quite clearly before, I've never claimed to be as pure and innocent as my squeamish brother. Glancing at Noon, I gave an exaggerated roll of my eyes. "Though truthfully, we all knew there was something going on between those two even before he let it slip. You know Anti-Bryndin. Seduction could be his private name."

"It certainly won't hurt us to have a Fairy Council member who sympathizes with Anti-Fairies even more than I realised," my roommate mused.

"No, it won't. I'll grant you the details another time, perhaps, when there aren't so many ears around, ahaha." Once I was quite certain that Shamaiin and Anti-Bryndin had left our corridor and wouldn't be coming back, I examined Anti-Bryndin's drink. I was underage for legal soda consumption, and only permitted desserts such as chocolates in small samples (which I… may have possibly fibbed about when asking the tender at the table to fill my plate for "my mother"). However, Anti-Bryndin's drink was half gone, and a little sip wasn't liable to hurt me. It looked as though it might be orange cream soda. I sniffed it. I sniffed again. Hm? Eyebrows raised, I tasted the drink, and then chuckled darkly to myself.

"Orange juice. Why, this isn't soda at all! I should have predicted as much. Anti-Bryndin, you old rascal." Pretending to participate in the festivities when really he was one step ahead of all of us at keeping sober. The oldest trick in the Anti-Fairy handbook. Well, I hoped Shamaiin enjoyed himself. I rather suspected he'd just lost to Anti-Bryndin in a drinking contest.

Noon and I soon found ourselves wandering up to the second floor of the Castle. My plate was nearly empty. I was just considering whether I ought to make an attempt at wheedling tasty snickerdoodles heavy on the cinnamon out of the sugarbartender or whether I should simply retire to roost for the night while I could still float in a straight line, when to my surprise I spotted Anti-Robin at the end of the next hall.

Yes, that was my brother- I was sure of it. Why, we hadn't seen each other since our last encounter at Anti-Fergus' place ended so poorly. I hovered for a moment as I watched them. They sat on a cushioned bench beneath a half-curtained window with a young, pretty damsel in their lap, apparently wooing her and succeeding too. I couldn't make out their soft voice from where I was, even with my Anti-Fairy ears, but they appeared to be enjoying themself immensely. She leaned against their chest, playing with something new around their neck. It appeared to be a necklace consisting of beads, and it looked suspiciously like a…

Oh, now this I have to hear.

I was at their side before I'd processed what I was doing, knowing Noon was staring at me curiously, but unable to stop myself in time to make proper introductions. Both they and the damsel looked up in clear annoyance when I interrupted their little display, but I clenched my plate in one hand and refused to back down.

"Hello, Anti-Robin," I said, keeping as much of the tightness out of my voice as I could muster. "It's pleasant to see your face around here again. I was just beginning to miss it."

Anti-Robin shrugged. "Granddad A-Anti-Gonzo brought me. H-he's around."

"Granddad Anti-Gonzo?" He was my father's father, and I'd only seen him a handful of times in my life. Always busy, that fellow, chasing after the most outrageous, grandiose ideas an anti-fairy could think up. I shook my head, and focused at the bigger question on my mind. I smiled. "I say, that's a lovely lime-coloured necklace you've got about your neck, darling. It has beads and everything."

Anti-Robin picked up the small pendant on the end and looked at it as though seeing it for the first time. It had a small, white rabbit painted across its front. "Mmhm." They allowed it to slither through their fingers again, and their companion of the evening returned to plucking at it.

"Of course," I said slowly as though this thought had only just occurred to me, "by my recollections of Anti-Fairy social convention, there is only one reason why you would be wearing a beaded necklace such as this one. And that would only be if you've gone and kiff-tied with a minor nature spirit."

They nodded. There was a honeywheat roll on the floating platter beside them, and they took a bite out of it without saying anything further. I arched one eyebrow above my monocle.

"Well? Come, come. Spill all the juicy bits for your baby brother now, won't you? I say, you've certainly moved up in the world. Look at you. Hardly over 150,000 and already a medium to one of the lesser-known spirits of the world. An oxygen spirit, by the colour and the rabbit on that favour you wear. Just if I were to venture an educated guess. I am educated, you recall."

"August." Anti-Robin replaced the roll on their platter and snuggled more deeply into the pillows on the cushioned seat. "I visited the S-Seasonal Temple on Plane 3 j-just two months ago, and he appeared a-and asked me to take it."

"I suppose that goes without saying. He's your namesake, after all. No wonder he would favour you enough to grant you his, well… favour. I say, August always was said to be a dashing daredevil." I shook my head. Partly in disbelief, and partly in… Well, no, it was still mostly disbelief. "Congratulations, old boy. So you're August's medium to the mortal planes now. Never thought I'd see the day."

Behind me, Noon cleared his throat with a soft cough. He pressed his knee lightly against my back. The message rang out clear: Easy. Stay calm. I glanced at him irritably, but smoothed my fur and shifted aside so he had room to hover. He smiled and stretched his hand past me.

"Good evening. I'm Noon Anti-Sundive of the Anti-Sundive colony. Year of Sky. I'm Julius' roommate at Frederick Shinesworth. Are you their older brother? They've always spoken very fondly of you."

Anti-Robin stared scornfully at Noon's downturned hand. "I don't return the s-s-sentiment."

I glared at them. But, never one to be deterred, Noon said, "I assure you, they love you very much," and rerouted his attention to the damsel in my brother's lap. "And you are, dame?"

She slipped her hand beneath his, giving him a warm smile. "Anti-Rose. Leaves year, Anti-Dewlink colony."

"And how did you meet Anti-Robin, pray tell?" I asked, gripping my plate.

"Oh," she purred, "I only met him here tonight."

The fact that she referred to Anti-Robin as "him" instead of "them" did not escape me. Briefly, I entertained the thought of outing them as an anti-fairy whose soul had tangled with a nature spirit even before they'd kiff-tied with August, then didn't. Not tonight. I simply couldn't be bothered.

Noon appeared determined to make unnecessary conversation with my brother and their evening fling, but I couldn't stand it much longer. So I whispered that I needed to find a balcony and take in the fresh air. He flicked an ear in reply. With that, I drifted on through the nearest corridor in silence, scratching behind my neck. Suddenly, I wasn't hungry anymore.

Long ago, long before my imprisonment in Liloei's lamp, I'd hypothesised with Mona that the key to unlocking the mystery of Anti-Fairy reproduction perhaps lay with the nature spirits. I'd snuggled up to sleep once when I was young, fully believing that within my lifetime I'd visit July in the Seasonal Temple and convince her to appear before me. She was my namesake after all, so perhaps she would appear if I called out to her. If I understood the way that nature spirits bonded, I might crack the mystery I'd been struggling with all my life once and for all.

Alas! Those hopeful days of my youth were gone from me. My recent centuries of work and research always ended the same. Genie magic? Boudacian genetics? Nature spirits? Luz malas? The material sciences? Dead ends, dead ends, dead ends. I was mentally exhausted, losing faith and losing energy. Oh, there must be a way for Anti-Fairies to breed beyond their reliance on Fairy counterparts, there must be… But I had read perhaps every text in existence that could help me. And I was growing weary of my own endless games.

"Julius," called a boisterous voice then, and I looked up, anticipating Tumble or one of the other drakes in the Castle who was just beginning to come into his deep adulthood voice. Instantly my ears snapped to attention. Ah, I knew who that was, spreading his arms for me! I stuffed two more strips of chocolate bark into my mouth with the flat of my hand, threw my plate aside without care, and raced towards him as fast as my wings could take me. Laughing, spurting crumbs I'm sure, I leaped into his embrace. He laughed too and swung me around three times. The flat country hat he wore in place of a crown nearly flew off in the process, I swear.

"Granddad Anti-Gonzo!" I wrapped both my arms around his neck. My legs encircled his torso. "Oh, Anti-Robin said you'd come with them tonight, but I scarcely could believe it. Why, it's been an age since you've strayed near the High South Region in your travels!"

Granddad's hug nearly broke my shoulders. My wings crumpled. I felt the beginnings of strain in my windpipe, which sent instantaneous shrieks of panic across my nerves. They vanished when he loosened his grip and plopped me down on the floor. His massive hand came down on my head and tousled my hair every which way. "Heh heh heh. Ever a sight for tired old eyes and a delight for tired old bones, ain't ya, kiddo?"

"Oh, I do try my hardest. You know how hard I try." I re-scruffed my hair just the way I liked it. "Do take care not to smudge my monocle. It's new, you know. I just replaced my old glasses with it, and I must say, I do adore it immensely."

He gave me two pat-slaps on the back that nearly knocked me to the ground. "That's my Julius, all right. Always the studious grandson. Making way on any of your projects up there at Shinesworth? I want results!"

"Well…" I puffed my cheeks, then let them out again and bowed my head. "To tell you the truth, that's been the least of my priorities at the moment. As it stands now, I'm desperately in need of a job. I've been searching for some time now, but I haven't had the fortune I desire, so that's how it's been around here as of late."

Grandfather spread his arms, then plopped his fists on his waist. "Well, what in the name of Tarrow's gums are you doing stuffed up in here, then? Don't you know there's a chocolate factory down the road that could use a strong pair of legs and working hands like yours?"

"What do you mean?"

"Sugarslew Chocolate Factory in Luna's Landing!" He practically exploded when he announced its name. "Why, I worked there myself up until a few centuries ago. Most fulfilling job you'll ever have in your life. Yessiree, me and the good lads used to check the cocoa wasn't contaminated, watched it so it melted instead of burned, and kick back with a nice side treat to our sodas while we headed home- twirling wands and shooting sparks all the way, a'course."

I blinked at that. "But what about Mintwave v. Wandflick?" As I recalled, that was the court case which had ruled it illegal to practice magic while under the influence of far too much sugar. Even Anti-Fairies had to follow that.

At that, Grandfather spat on the floor. He threw his flat hat to the ground and brought his foot down on top of it. "Mintwave v. Wandflick? Mintwave v. Wandflick? Boy, you want to talk to me about Mintwave v. Wandflick? That ruddy court rule is discriminatory to our peoples, always trying to subject Anti-Fairies to Fairy laws. I say, Mintwave v. Wandflick is a plague to this world, and one of these days!" He clapped sharply. "One of these days, I'll put a stop to it all myself, I will! Sue the pants off them all!"

"Okay, Granddad," I laughed.

He gave me directions to the chocolate factory and a few last words of advice, and we parted with a hug. He even slipped me a truffle and two sugar straws he'd decided not to eat, white chocolate all the way through. Oh, I was chuckling as I wandered along down one of the corridors in search of a room to relieve myself that wasn't already in use.

"Ha ha! Well, Tarrow is really smiling upon me tonight, I should say. I've got a fair chance at a job now. Finally, after all this time. Nothing, and I truly mean it, could possibly ruin my mood now!"

I turned the corner grinning, and felt my ears instantly go flat. What? My teeth clenched. Who invited her? I pulled my fistfuls of chocolate to my chest and looked Emery what-is-she-even-doing-here Whimsifinado, of all Fairies, up and down. I knew it was her, because she hadn't changed a bit since I'd glimpsed her on my way home from the Eros Nest; she'd left Wish Fixers along with her father just as I'd arrived to question him about Anti-Robin. She kept her hair short and black, speckled white on top, and I imagined she stuck out just as much in Fairy World as she did here because of it; it would seem that despite the cheerful values of her culture, she wasn't much for colourful fashion. She wore her usual dull purple jumper, with those same old enormous green earrings dangling from her ears. I swallowed the rest of my truffle and covered my mouth with my hand.

"Oh. My, my. Emery, how lovely it is to see you again. By which, of course, I mean that I know your father sent you here to pester me about something or another, so go ahead and get on with it."

She couldn't have found a more annoying posture to greet me in if she'd tried. Actually, she likely had tried. She must have been standing there all evening, simply waiting for me to float close enough to bother. She leaned against one of the Castle's columns with her elbow, her other hand resting in the stomach pocket of her jumper. Her eyes were slitted and smirky in a very knowing way, and her thin lips twisted up at both ends. She didn't move even when I greeted her. Which was a shame. Anyone else was liable to spring back and shush me, unwilling to be the Fairy foolish enough to draw attention to themselves in Anti-Fairy World. Emery, however… Well, she was Emery, and she flaunted it.

"Glad I caught you, Julius," she said, bringing two fingers near her brow and away again in some silly salute. "What's the story? I know I wasn't invited to this party, but amazing things can happen when you have a dad who can write you border passes any time you want one."

Of course. The orange card around her neck. I closed my eyes for three seconds, wondering whether I should turn and speedwalk back to Noon, then opened them again. "I must apologise. I'm confused. Why are you here? How did you reach the second floor of the Blue Castle without getting thrown out on the stoop? What is even happening?"

Emery's smile faded. Her eyes darted back and forth, back and forth, in a very exaggerated way. She straightened up, slowly, sliding her arm into her jumper pocket to join the first. "It's about your D3, Jules. Is there a place we could step out to talk in private, just for a sec? I won't keep you from your party long."

It seemed to me it was a violation of my privacy for Ambrosine to tell his daughter anything about my alleged divus displacement disorder, but I was too speechless for a moment to bring that up. In parallel to hers, my own eyes slid between her face and the path that would lead me to the nearest dessert table.

And yet… Errrrgh. I had another weakness even greater than white chocolate, and that was my hopeless curiosity. I was rubbish at ignoring it. And so, I brought another sugar straw to my mouth and chewed through it as I led Emery along the corridor in search of a balcony that wasn't already occupied with a sugared-up couple kissing and cooing over one another. She meandered along more slowly than I would have liked, her eyes drinking in the portraits on the other wall.

"Whole lot of semi-familiar faces up there," she observed.

"Of course," I said, fighting to keep the irritation from my voice. "This corridor here and the next comprise the Castle's Anti-Holotype Hall, a reflection of the very passage that can be found in the Eros Nest if one knows where to look. Each of those portraits up there depicts a holotype, or the first member of their race to be classified as a new subspecies altogether. On the Anti-Fairy side of things, of course. I imagine you would be most interested in Anti-Finella Anti-Sunbeam. She was the first common anti-fairy to ever be studied in detail, and of course the namesake of what you Fairies call the Finella reflex today. Cold shoulder syndrome, it's more commonly known in Anti-Fairy World. Something about a Fairy's inborn and nigh-irresistible instinct to kill his counterpart, or some rubbish like that. I don't believe it myself."

She stopped in front of the second to last painting on the wall and tilted back her head. "Who's this cute hunk up here?"

I'd reached the end of the corridor, where Anti-Ilisa's portrait hung, but I turned on my heel and faced her again, tapping my foot above the ground. "Anti-Ky Anti-Braddocki, of course. The first of the anti-brownies. He always hated the Anti-Braddocki name, you know. He actually used a different family name, but Anti-Braddocki is the name he was classified under regardless, just to make things easier on the history texts. You can blame the Fairies for that."

Emery took note of my long nose, then peered back up at the portrait. "So he's one of your ancestors, then?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. On my father's side. Shows, doesn't it now?"

Once more she glanced at me, but this time her eyes lifted to the painting above my crown. Her absentminded expression cracked into a grin. She raised her fingers to form a box, positioning me right in the middle of it. "Don't move a muscle. Oh, this is gold. Okay, Jules. Take a moment to notice how you're standing, and then turn around and look up. Really, I'm not kidding. You and that dame behind you are soulmates right now. You two both have your arms folded and your shoulders hunched forward, but you're doing the exact opposite head tilt. You both look ticked off to be here. Ha ha. You sure you aren't related to her instead? You've got the same pointy cheekbones."

"I am most certainly not," I snapped, dropping my arms at once. "And I have the pedigree charts available at a swish of a wand to prove it." I took a step closer to her, stupidly expecting her to meet me halfway like an Anti-Fairy would. Instead, Emery raised her hands and drifted away.

"Okay, okay."

Recognising the cultural difference between us too late, I snorted and turned my back. "Well, if you would ever so kindly come along, I can show you a portrait of who I'm really descended from."

"Right, right, I'm coming." She said it in a puzzled way as I led her not back along Anti-Holotype Hall, but through another corridor where the light was brighter and the dust was thinner. The portraits in this hall were much, much smaller, because there were so many more of them to fit in. We passed dozens of them before I stopped at the one hanging across from Her Glory Laelaps.

"There." I waved my hand to indicate the masterpiece. "Now that, darling, is Her Glory Cadmea."

Emery stared up in silence for a moment before she asked the expected question: "How can you be descended from a big blue fox? I didn't think Anti-Fairies could breed with animals."

I suppressed my sigh. Typical Fairies. Did they always have to be so literal? "As Fairies came from dust and Refracts came from mist, Anti-Fairies came from smoke. In ancient times, there were no Fairies, Refracts, or Anti-Fairies, but only Domestic Fae, Trooping Fae, and Solitary Fae. The Domestic Fae worked the fields, and the Trooping Fae hunted and gathered afar. The Solitary Fae took the forms of the early animals on our home planet, and it was only later that they began to mimic the bodies and faces of those whom they lived with. Her Glory Cadmea was the first of my mother's family line to take on solid shape."

As anticipated, I watched her nose crinkle up. "But what about our ancestors Splitting apart from the Aos Sí?"

"The Aos Sí existed, it is true, but Fairies alone are their only descendants today. Fairies, Anti-Fairies, and the Refracted share no common ancestors but the ground itself. Three counterparts did not Split from a single being, as you folk who place your faith in Daoism believe. There's no such thing, and frankly it's quite silly to believe such stories, if you ask my opinion on the matter. Why, the only reason we Anti-Fairies teach our children the Daoist concept of Splitting is to give them context for their arguments against people like you."

"I'm descended from Ezekiel Whimsifinado," Emery protested. "The original Whimsifinado. My family line has kept our surname since the days of the Aos Sí, and we know Whimsifinado Split to become three Ezekiel counterparts. There are written records. Are you following me? Written. Records. Wait a second- Aren't you Anti-Fairies completely obsessed with Jay Rhoswen because he's the one who tried to mate with Anti-Shylinda and gave her the first pair of coloured eyes? He wrote about Splitting in his famous journal." Her brow furrowed. "Yeah, the one where he used the names Fairies, Refracts, and Anti-Fairies for the first time. He was there to watch Shylinda Split in the first place. How do you rectify that?"

"Jay Rhoswen was a drake of many poetic metaphors and his journal is not to be taken literally," I told her calmly. "A little background research will turn up the proper mindset one should have when they read its pages. It's poetry, luv. Sheer poetry." Raising my voice, I went on with, "The Anti-Lunifly family have honoured our ancestor Her Glory Cadmea since the dawn of time as we know it, taking no other form to shapeshift but hers until this very day." I thought that pinning my hands over my ears and chanting "La la la la, I'm not listening to you" would have been too much.

Emery rolled her eyes, but dropped an argument she obviously recognised she couldn't win. "All right. So… if your mom's line come from the fox dame, which animal are you descended from on your dad's side of the family?"

I turned my head, my ears and shoulders sinking. Without words, I pointed with my nose at another portrait a few frames down on the opposite wall. Emery followed my gaze. There, strong and silent, hung His Glory Perez, the lord of the rats. "Ah," she said, sizing him up with care. "I get the picture. He's cute in that scrawny egghead way, but given the choice, I'd take being stuck with the fox form over the rat any day."

"I'm not technically 'stuck' with it. Since I can prove my lineage and my father's line, it would be socially acceptable for me to abandon the Anti-Lunifly family name and grace myself with the Anti-Cosma one instead. Though it's a switch that may be made only once."

Emery cringed. "Sympathy wince for the one who has to manage Anti-Fairy paperwork if you're over here changing your names all the time." She looked up again, skimming her eyes along the row. "So… you've really never taken any shape except a fox's before? Not an inanimate object, not a cat, not anything?"

"I'd be disowned and tossed out in disgrace if I so much as tried," I said. The fur prickled down the back of my neck with memories of Serentip's smelly streets that I'd rather forget. I twisted on my heel and floated off. "Come along now. We're hardly two wingbeats away from the place I had in mind." There was certainly no way I planned to stand about discussing the Fairy interpretation of my mental state in one of the Castle's most frequented halls. I had my pride.

"Nifty."

At last finding a balcony that wasn't occupied, I drew the translucent curtains aside for Emery. "Here. We won't be bothered, or at least not in theory. But, if someone with authority demands to know why I'm out here making nice with a Fairy, then I make no promises I'll protect you from their anger. That privilege is extended only to cordially invited guests, and you are not exactly one of those tonight."

"Relax, Jules. I'm not even going to sap five minutes of your time." She glided past me, whistling in approval as she admired the view. I dropped the curtain and followed her. Emery leaned her hands against the balcony rail and inhaled loudly through her nose. Her shoulders lifted. It made her wings thrum (Odd pale brown wings with flat ends, reminiscent of Ambrosine's damefriend's, if I recalled correctly). "Ahhh," she sighed. "Good old Hy-Brasilian air."

I folded my arms on the railing beside her, gazing over the mountains on this side of the Castle. A thin stream of lava trickled down it in the distance, visible in a glow of fiery red. "Yes, it is rather pleasant out tonight, isn't it? Long way to fly from your tiny town of Novakiin, so I do hope you poofed. I say, now what's all this about my D3?"

Emery turned and propped her elbow up behind her, scratching her nose. She had a few light freckles dusting her face right around there. Only six, so nowhere near as impressive as a gyne's amount, but I arched a brow at the sight of them nonetheless. "So…? How have your pheromone treatments been lately?"

I eyeballed her in silence, my muscles tensing near the shoulders. In all honesty, it had been a long time since I'd painted any pheromones across my face. Anti-Elina had eventually slipped up in her attempts to treat me with them three times each week, and I'd faded into the background as a result. But what I said to Emery was, "Well enough."

"Smelling good?"

"They're not exactly to my tastes, but they seem to perform the function they're meant to. I haven't suffered an extreme mood swing in ages."

Emery pointed her finger at my eyes and swung her arm. "Ah, but it sounds like their quality isn't up to the standards you'd like them to be. What would you say if I could fix that by sliding you some pheromones that were fifty times better?"

"Fifty?"

She flapped her hand. "Somewhere around there. It's hard to put a number to these things. Just know that I'm selling you a great offer."

"I'm listening," I said, somewhat puzzled. Emery was speaking like a salesdame now. Ambrosine must have sent her to check up on me, and perhaps try to score a little extra cash from the High Count and Countess in the process, but I couldn't imagine what product they considered so important, they felt it warranted a trip straight into the heart of Anti-Fairy World like this one. Particularly when I was already one of their customers. For the sake of business, shouldn't they instead be focusing their energy on those who were presently being treated by their rival companies?

Emery had a smile on her face that just wouldn't quit. It was a smile I wasn't entirely sure I liked on her. She brought her hands together before her like a boat, or a fish, and tipped them forward. Her wings buzzed with poorly-restrained glee. "A little rabbit told me that you imprinted on my brother's pheromones when you were about eight years old."

My eyes closed. "I… question Ambrosine's reasons for imparting that knowledge onto you."

"I said 'little rabbit.'"

"Ambrosine always loved rabbits, even back when he still had a stutter."

"I'm taking your obvious reluctance as enthusiasm." Emery made a celebratory popping motion with her hands. "Well, guess what? My brother Fergus? After almost 300,000 years of wandering Earth, he's back in town. Just moved in with me and Dad again. No joke."

"Oh," I said. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. I hadn't thought about Fairy-Fergus for some time now. Sure, I'd just met his green-furred counterpart, and of course it's scientifically impossible for an Anti-Fairy to forget anything, but my father's notes felt like a distant memory. And, I daresay that getting to know Ambrosine had turned me off somewhat to the idea of meeting my once-beloved childhood hero, too. I know the influence a family casts over its fruits.

"Now, check this out. It took me months of creeping around to collect this much, but I brought samples."

"You what?" When I realised what she was implying, my eyes widened. "Wait. From Fergus? In- in secret? Are you mad?"

"Maaaybe. But who's your favourite damsel now?" Emery removed a single bottle of pheromones from her pocket, popped the lid with her thumb, and lifted it to her face. She gave the sticky liquid inside a swirl as though she were peering into a scrying bowl. "Mm, yeah. Smell that… really sweaty… stuff. It's good, right? Here, you try."

"What in blazes would I want with that?" I asked, trying to slide away.

"Ah ah ah ah ah," she scolded, bringing me towards her with her hand just beneath my wings. Her skin was uncomfortably warm. She'd grown so much taller than I was, and that made the experience all the more unpleasant. Still, she held the pheromones closer to my nose. "Here."

Once again suppressing a sigh, I gave the bottle a dutiful sniff or two. I was an Anti-Fairy, of course, with a memory even sharper than my claws. I'd never forgotten what Fergus smelled like, all cinnamon and bananas. This smell was… different, somehow than the smell of the census card in Principal Winkleglint's office long ago. I mean, that was undeniably Fergus. Even I could tell that, and I was an anti-fairy who favoured sounds over scents. Frowning, I traced my tongue across my lips. Yes. That was Fergus' old smell. Only different, like buttered caviar. The scent was deeper than before, stickier… It smelled very grown up, although I couldn't put my claw on why exactly I thought that. It was just that something about it tasted… more enticing on the roof of my mouth than the pheromones lingering around any of my gyne peers at Frederick Shinesworth.

Not enticing enough. We waited a moment, my waist still wrapped in Emery's unsolicited arm, before I said, "This isn't doing anything for me."

"Really?" Emery appeared honestly taken aback. She looked at the bottle in her hand, then at me again. After picking up the fallen lid, she replaced it with a twist. "Okay, I'll be frank. I fully expected you to be doing flips for this. I mean, you're supposed to have a drone fairy's brain, right? And you were supposed to have imprinted on my brother's pheromones or something, right? Shouldn't that mean you want them? I mean, what's with you?"

I shook my head and uncrossed my arms. "Look here. While your motives were selfish, I appreciate the sentiment. It is rather nice that you remembered me and my condition even though your race as a whole is known for having fairly poor memories. But the truth is, deep down in my little black heart, I am an Anti-Fairy through and through. You are a creature of the insects, and I am one of the bats. My people have no use for scent markers just as yours have no use for identifying sweeping calls. So thank you kindly, by which I mean, I don't particularly thank you for this at all. I don't need what you're selling, I don't want what you're selling, and I certainly won't buy any of it. I haven't painted pheromones on my face in years, and look how well I'm doing for myself."

"… Huh," was the only word that left her mouth for a little while. Emery replaced the pheromone bottle in her jumper pocket. She looked more thoughtful than irritated, but I still didn't like the look of it on her.

"Face it, darling." I readjusted my monocle with two claws this time. "I'm not exactly a Fairy in an Anti-Fairy's body, nor have I ever been one. The cause of my mood condition stems from the fact that my mind became tangled up with that of a lightning spirit in my youth. My temperament ebbs and flow with the seasons. Not because I've gone too long without slobbering over some old bloke's sweaty neck, you know what I mean?"

"Thank you for your time," she murmured. "You know, divus displacement disorder isn't well-studied. I appreciate all the insights you can provide."

"And I'm quite happy to provide them. But I would immensely appreciate it if you and your father would both stop assuming that you know me better than I know myself."

She spread her wings and left from the balcony. I took it upon myself to escort her all the way to the rubble of the old Anti-Eros tower, and she found her way back to the Barrier from there. That was that.

Before October ended, I heeded Granddad's counsel and visited the Sugarslew Chocolate Factory in Luna's Landing in the hopes of applying there for work. It went surprisingly well, actually. I greeted the employer of the place (Anti-Jared) personally, for he insisted on interviewing me himself. Anti-Jared dressed sharply, in a blue suit with a spiderweb tie that made me long for something nice on my chest, too. He led me into his office: A pleasant little back room decorated after the inside of a marshmallow, with enormously plush white chairs around the desk and little else in the way of decorations. The formalities were exchanged, and my interview began.

With his critical gaze taking note of the way I sat (back straight, wings folded), Anti-Jared made the sharp roof of a Fairy World building with his fingers. He leaned his chin against it. "Now then, Julius. Here at Sugarslew, we desire one thing above all else. Can you guess what that is?"

I sent a quick, silent prayer to Sunnie for support. "Intelligence?"

"A sense of community. When the workers don't get along, the chocolate doesn't get along. It's my job not to let in anyone who I'm not convinced is going to get along with the other workers. I'd have to tell them to get along home, you get me?"

"I see."

Anti-Jared smiled. It was a sly smile, like one that a card dealer might show just before he pulled a fast one over your head. Warily, I pricked my ears. "Now," he said, "to prove your worth, you must answer me a very important question. Get it?"

I nodded. "I've got it, sir."

"Then riddle me this. What song are you liable to sing on the job? Everybody has one. I'd like to hear what sort of music you prefer, and what makes your favourite song to sing your favourite to sing aloud, if you get my meaning."

For a moment, my mind went blank. That wasn't at all the interview question I'd been expecting. My heels tapped together. "Uh… Well, that is to say, I don't suppose I ever thought about it until now, but I'm quite partial to Lepidopteritus myself. It originates from Fairy World, and the first time I ever heard it was on a long tram ride to the Barrier following my pilgrimage to the Water Temple. It can ofttimes be a spot nerve-wracking when you're the only anti-fairy in your tramcar far from home, so I suppose the song has become rather comforting to me. It's quite the lively tune, and excellent for brightening a day with a jaunty spot of fun, ah, you know what I mean?"

Anti-Jared looked mystified. "I don't recall ever hearing that one before. How does it go?"

"Well…" I ran my shoe across the tile. "It's like this, if you give me a moment to recall… Mm. All right. Ah, so." I cleared my throat, and closed my eyes. "I met a lovely lady just south of Serentip. Said she didn't know my face just 'cuz she hadn't met me yet. Her hair lit like fire and she glowed just like the sun…"

"All right, all right." Anti-Jared shushed me with a bouncing hand. "That's enough, kid. I get it, I get it."

Abruptly, I stopped and stared at him. My muscles tightened. Truthfully, I wasn't anywhere close to being the greatest singer (My fairy counterpart Cosmo, I seriously suspected, was the one with that talent between the two of us). It was a struggle to keep my ears up and forward in a confident position, when all I really wanted to do was curl into a ball and crawl beneath the desk.

Anti-Jared eyeballed me for a moment, and then grinned. He reached all the way across his desk to clap me on the shoulder. "You're in, kid."

My eyes flew wide. "You mean I've got the job? Just like that?"

"You got it, all right. Get me a copy of your school schedule so we can figure out where to put you, and you've got yourself a deal."

"All right indeed!"

It turned out that Anti-Jared was correct. In the first few years of my time working at Sugarslew, I found myself singing Lepidopteritus an awful lot. I just couldn't seem to resist such a catchy tune. I would be working the mixing station some days, twirling on my toes as I whisper-sang the chorus in an endless loop. In fact, come one bright and early Wednesday morning in the Summer of the Crashing Pine, I was doing just that as I stretched my fingers up for my measuring cups and the jug of castor oil on their high shelf. Since I was alone in the mixing room on my shift today, I'd even dared to slip my tail over the waistband of my trousers. It dangled behind me, ticking back and forth like a metronome. I lifted onto my toes as my humming turned to words.

"Better kiss lots of damsels, kiss lots of drakes, because you never know when this journey that you take will end… That's advice from 'lisa Maddington."

"Anti-Lunifly!"

I jolted. My hands went instantly for my tail, and I spun around, clutching the oil jug behind my back. Anti-Jared floated towards me, clucking his tongue as he shook his head.

"And what do you think you're doing over here?"

"J-just mixing up the cocoa, sir."

He crossed his arms and settled on the metal platform where I stood. Obediently, I stepped forward until his chin hovered just above mine, to the point that it nearly dug in. Anti-Jared examined my bowed head and passively low-bobbing crown. When he unfolded his arms, he said, "Well, get ready to put a stop to that. We've got a VIP on the wing headed this way as we speak, and you're about to give him the tour of a lifetime around the factory."

I pulled back and blinked. "Me? Why is that?"

"Because you're the one I'm asking now. That, and you're a Water year. He's a Soil. Waters and Soils are a natural match made on Plane 23, and by that logic, as a Fire year myself, I'd prefer to stay out of this. So, let's get a move on." His gaze swept back and forth with the edge of a slicing knife. "And at least try to keep your tail in your pants, boy. It isn't just indecent, but it's also a health hazard. I don't want to be tasting the fur from your nasty rear end in my chocolates. Get it?"

"Yes, sir," I squeaked, flushing once again.

"You better have got it. Next slip I see from you is the one that gets you fired, get?"

I nodded. He left on foot, his boots clanking over metal. Once he was gone, I went back to work. This time with my tail crammed away, even though it was terribly uncomfortable.

Sigh.

Who, me? Somehow manage to wow a VIP with a stunning tour on short notice when I barely knew the way around the factory myself? This was ridiculous, but what was I to do?

After a few minutes more of measuring out the castor oil and dribbling it down into the swirling vat, I set my things aside, turned my gaze to Plane 23, and squeezed my eyes shut. My hands came together in front of my chest.

"Please, Dayfry. I call now upon your Love. Keep me in Anti-Jared's good graces. I need a win right now. Mona is counting on me to gain the funds and leadership experience necessary to provide for a small colony that we expect to quickly grow, and I still have Lohai to provide for, too. This business is so harsh and cold. Please, if you can hear me… if it doesn't contradict your father's plans for me… send me a lifelong friend. Someone stable and predictable I'll always know I can rely on, even in the toughest of times. I say, I could really use a chum like that right about now."

My plea abruptly ended when a tiny hand grabbed the bottom of my wing and yanked. I yelped and twirled around, flapping wildly to keep my balance lest I plunge into the vat of scalding hot chocolate below. What in the name of smoke? How had a child gotten inside the factory?

My gaze fell on a tiny half-breed fairy hovering at my feet. Though as I rounded on him, he sprang back and grabbed the leg of the drake who must have been his father. "Sanderson," snapped the older fairy. He rapped a knuckle against the younger one's flat, squarish head. In fact, I noticed as I looked at them, they both had distinctive square faces, all hard lines and solid jaws (Black hair too, identically tufted in two peaks at the front). "What do we say?"

"Um. I can pay for that?"

"Exactly." So saying, the drake settled his wings to a slower beat and turned his expectant gaze on me. Instantly, I let go of my cross feelings regarding the fact that they had walked all the way up the bridge to my platform to startle me. I realised that I knew exactly who he was. Behind the thick glasses, his eyes were lavender. He was rather large for a fairy. Not in von Strangle terms by any means, but certainly large. Though, I thought him only half as colourful as one might expect a fairy to be. True, the vest he wore was cherry-coloured, but it was a dull and deep maroon sort of cherry colour. Bright red-brown freckles sprinkled his nose and lay like pollen across his cheeks. Beneath them, his skin was pale. Paler than most Fairies, I privately thought. Almost grey. A thin cowlick spiralled in a swirl from the back of his head, low behind his ears.

Worlds collided at the very sight of him. I actually inhaled, raising two fingers to my lips. Yes, I knew him. I truly did, absolutely. That vest. That face. Those burning eyes. The low tang of cinnamon in the air, stronger here and now than I'd ever smelled before. Sticky, like caviar. Automatically, I brushed my other hand down the front of my apron. Oh, all right. So despite my firm insistence to Emery that he meant nothing to me at all, perhaps I had longed to meet the bloke face to face at last, after all these many years. Just for the sake of closure. I tried not to be obvious about it if I quickly licked my lips.

"Oh my stars. Why, I'm honoured. Am I correct in presuming you are the important guest whom we've all been expecting?"

"Yes. Yes you are." The fairy started to extend his right hand, then switched to his left. Good smoke, his hand was enormous. My entire hand, talons included, fit in his mere palm. I accepted his gesture lightly, and fought the urge to cringe when he crushed my fingers. I'm sure he didn't mean to. He shook my arm up and down as though trying to loose a hidden wand from my sleeve. "Fergus Whimsifinado."

I'd thought as much, but hearing him confirm it, I really imagined I might faint in his arms. "Oh! You're the Fergus Whimsifinado?"

One of his dark eyebrows went up. Just one. He released me and folded his arm behind his back, business-like and proper. "I suppose I am."

Oh my smoke, oh my smoke, oh my smoke. Was this real? Ahaha! Ohh, how I loved it! My old hero, hovering before me in the flesh. I ran my hand over my hair, fighting to smooth its inevitable scruffiness. His dull eyes tracked my movement.

"Call me Mr. Whimsifinado, actually. The Fergus name has unpleasant connotations attached to it these days."

He used Mr. instead of Drk. I flinched very slightly at the implication, my mouth twisting at the corner. This would take some getting used to. But all right. Mr. Whimsifinado he would be, then. I suppose that if I were his age, I wouldn't want a strange juvenile casually referring to me by my first name either. I clasped his hand in both of mine, biting back my shrieks of elation. "Why, it's an incredible pleasure to meet you, drake. It really is. Welcome to the Sugarslew Chocolate Factory. I'm Julius."

Mr. Whimsifinado gave me a calculating look that, to the very bat of his eyelashes after his pause, reminded me piercingly of Ambrosine. The dust certainly didn't fall far from the wings in their case. He tilted up his chin. "No. What's your real name?"

I blinked. If he'd been anyone else in the universe, I think I might have been horribly insulted. "I beg your pardon?" After all, Julius was my real name, so what exactly did he mean by that?

"Your anti-name. What is it?"

His dry, commanding tone left me hesitant. Truth be told, that was an extremely derogatory question. I mean… wasn't it? Maybe it wasn't anymore, and no one had told me. A tiny part of me was offended. These nasty Fairies were always squeezing every last drop of our culture away from us. But he was the Fergus Whimsifinado. So I carefully said, "It's Anti-Cosmo. Although as I'm sure you're aware, I'm not supposed to use my adult name until after my coming of age ceremony when I'm 150,000. I have a long ways yet to go."

He nodded once. Short. "See, that's the name I was looking for. It's good to meet you, Anti-Cosmo."

"I… see." My fingers clenched into fists behind my back. Let it go, Julius. It's just one incident. He doesn't mean any ill will. Don't make unnecessary waves. Be a good portrayal of a modern and refined Anti-Fairy. Don't dwell too much on the way he expects you to address him the way he said, and yet can't extend the courtesy to us… "Well, Mr. Whimsifinado, we're pleased to have you paying us a visit here at Sugarslew. It's my understanding that I am to lead you and your… son? on a tour of the place, hm?"

He had a son now. I mean, of course he should be allowed to have a son. The man had to be nearly 500,000 years old by this point, bordering on menopause, and this would fit with the crying pup I'd heard in Anti-Fergus' house when last I'd visited. But still, the concept blew me away. My childhood hero, all grown up with offspring of his own. Well, well, well.

"Who? Oh." Mr. Whimsifinado spared the child a disgruntled glance. "Yeah. Him. No, no. He's definitely not my son. This is my uncontrollable blockhead of a nephew, Mister Sanderson. His first name actually is Mister."

My face chilled a hint when he said that last word. "O-oh. Mister, you say?"

"Yes."

How… curious. As I recalled, 'Mister' was a title used in the gyne/drone community to specifically identify those engaged in the most committed partnerships, who were absolutely uninterested in trading off their drones to other gynes or taking on new ones. Vis versa, the title was used by drones fiercely devoted to their gynes. 'Mr.' was a familiar rather than a formal business term. Favouring 'Mr.' instead of 'Drk.' as your honorary signified a gyne's total willingness to fight to the death to maintain possession of the drones under his care. So knowing all that, 'Mister' made a curious first name for obvious reasons. I mean, who names their child after a cultural belief they may not desire to hold to by the time they reach adulthood? That was the Fairy equivalent of me naming my daughter Beira.

Nonetheless, I maintained my composure, and tilted my head to give it special thought. "Hmm. Would that happen to be the conjugated sera form for 'to bring' in Vatajasa? 'He who brought mist with him'? Or perhaps 'He who was born on a cold, wet day'?"

Mr. Whimsifinado placed both hands to his waist and looked his nephew up and down, while Mister hugged his leg more tightly. "It's actually closer to the Milesian translation, 'The way ahead of me looks ridiculous and there's no way I'm dealing with this today,' but you're close. I'm glad you tried to figure that out, Anti-Cosmo. You get me. Everyone else just looks at me like I'm a freak when they hear."

Oh, so it wasn't just me, then. I glanced down at Mister, who had bent his wing around his front and begun sucking on the apex. It was interesting. You know, he looked far more like his uncle than he looked like Emery. I didn't recall seeing a wedding band on her finger during that Patrons' Day visit, either. "I'm terribly sorry. My condolences for your family."

Mr. Whimsifinado's eyes sharpened. "Family?"

"For your sister's health." I watched his puzzled face, and scratched behind my neck with my wand. "Er, I just assumed by your comment about the reactions of 'everyone you introduce him to' that you take Mister here around Fairy World with you often. I thought perhaps his father was unwell. I knew it must be his mother who is your sibling and not his father, because of his species. He's a fairy, and so… Erm. Never mind."

How exactly had Mister been born when there was supposed to be a mandate against the birth of fairy children anyway?

"Oh." His face relaxed again. "You're very perceptive, Anti-Cosmo. Not sure I would have made that jump in logic." He looked down at Mister and gave a shake of his leg- a half-hearted and unsuccessful attempt to dislodge the clingy nymph. "Well. I'm a gyne who, I must admit, is rising up in the world. The child has been promised to me as my future alpha retinue drone (Sanderson, get off me). Hmph. He's job shadowing and he likes attention. Just ignore him. He'll let go when he wants to."

I chuckled at the sight of them. "Well, you two certainly look alike."

"Do we?" Mr. Whimsifinado continued to stare at Mister, brow furrowing more with every passing wingbeat. "Hm. Nope. Don't see it."

"… Right." My eyes slid to the nymph, who hadn't moved apart from sliding his wing from his mouth and flapping it instead. It made a circular motion in the air. "Well now, aren't you a pretty bloke down there?" I dropped to one knee and offered my little finger for him to grasp. "What's your zodiac, tiny friend?"

Mister tightened his grip on Mr. Whimsifinado's leg, blinking owlishly into my eyes. "Spring of the Charged Waters."

I couldn't resist grinning. "I say! I'm a Water myself, you know. Summer of the Black Lake." So saying, I showed him my hand so he could study the turquoise ring glinting against my knuckle. Mister didn't smile or make any movement towards the shiny object with his chubby fingers. Even when I tried to coax him. My grin slipped into a frown. Strange kid, I thought, but resisted the urge to blurt it out in front of Mr. Whimsifinado. Instead, I stood and grasped my forearms behind my back. "Well? Shall we begin that tour?"

Mr. Whimsifinado inclined his head. "Let's. Please lead the way."

The way up to my metal platform was guarded by a rickety bridge of clumsy wooden beams, spread across a deep, dark gap between the vats that dropped all the way to the floor. The bridge had been set up ages ago for any factory workers who didn't have wings, which was somewhat funny since we didn't have any of those at the moment. Not since Sugarslew had fallen into Anti-Fairy hands. The small factory lay in our capital city, after all, so it was only logical its employees should all be Anti-Fairies. In fact, I doubted even Anti-Jared could remember the last Seelie Courter who had wandered the place. Only Anti-Fairies, Anti-Fairies, and more Anti-Fairies.

I told all of this to Mr. Whimsifinado, exaggerating the history of the building here and there to make it sound more rich than it actually was. "Hmm," he said, not sounding particularly impressed. I wondered why he'd even come.

We floated into another room, and I gestured up at the great five-roller machine, raising my voice above the noise. "You see, once upon a time, we enjoyed cocoa only as a drink. In more recent millennia, however, chocolate chips and bars have become a staple of dessert tables across the cloudlands. Chocolate begins its life as a bean from a cacao tree down on Earth, which we process into something we call 'cocoa liquor.' This liquor is then divided into its two components, one being a solid state and the other a sort of 'cocoa butter.' My personal favourite chocolate is white chocolate, which doesn't include any of these 'cocoa solids' at all. Quite delicious, it really is. Can't stand the richer stuff. Do you have a favourite chocolate, sir?"

Mr. Whimsifinado considered for a moment, eyeballing the machines with the first spark of interest I'd seen since his arrival. "Yes. Anything flavoured with orange."

"Oh, we do have a wonderful selection in the box my co-workers and I just opened in the break room this morning. I'll be certain to make a stop there once we conclude our tour. And perhaps after that, I can find you some samples of our divinity candies. Have you ever tried divinity before?"

From behind us, there came a sudden explosion of desperate chirping noises. Mr. Whimsifinado broke off his thanks to chirp over his shoulder in reply. He stopped walking and turned back the way we had come. I turned with him. Together, we waited a few seconds until Mister flew around the corner in search of us, hands outstretched. I almost gasped. I could hardly help myself. His tiny hands just looked so, well… tiny! He caught the hem of his uncle's cherry-coloured vest and buried his face in deep.

"So," Mr. Whimsifinado said to me, floating forward again. After patting his nephew's head, he slid Mister's fingers away one by one. "Tell me when and how this factory was built."

"Oh, it's quite fascinating, really. You see, everything is powered by thermal energy from the magma river that flows beneath the soil. Before the war, Luna's Landing was but a small valley town with little to its name but the Love Temple and the library, for Anti-Fairies really had no need for the government buildings we have here now. It was only after the Sunset Divide that development turned the place into an urban wonderland." I paused, and while I watched him watch the conching machines, I casually asked, "Did any of your relatives fight in the war?"

Mr. Whimsifinado reached down to Mister and scratched him on the head. His eyes continued following the liquid chocolate as it flowed across the rollers. "Yes. My father was the only one of his siblings who survived it. He resisted enlistment at first in order to look after me, but the draft brought him in after the first few years. I lived with my foster parents for nearly three decades until the war ended."

That surprised me. One of my vaguer memories from my eight-year-old self was a passing comment Ambrosine had made about a "Gidget and Reuben," who had indeed raised his son during the war as Mr. Whimsifinado said. I hadn't thought much of it at the time, but now the comment puzzled me. "I say! He was drafted now, was he? And with a nymph to look after, too?" The Anti-Fairies hadn't called parents of young pups to join in the fighting, and our newborns were even more capable of looking after themselves than Fairy children were! For the first time in my life, I was beginning to understand why my people had lost the war. Why, there must have been a third more of their soldiers than there were ours at any one time. "What of your mother?"

"I never knew her."

"Oh." I tilted my head. That was… strange news, considering that Emery existed. Could those two possibly be half-siblings? Funny. That went against all the preachings of lifelong monogamy I'd heard the common fairy subspecies held to. I'd met Ambrosine's damefriend once. Did that mean Mona and I had caught him redhanded in the act of serial monogamy? Hm. If I knew anything about fairies, he was liable to be shunned forever were he found out; Seelie Courters were a puzzling lot. "And you lost all your aunts and uncles in the war, too?"

Mr. Whimsifinado nodded and began to count them off on his fingers. "Adrina. Amalia. Ara. Alik."

When he said Alik, a sharp pain split across my forehead. My right wing felt unbearably heavy. My legs threatened to give way. I hissed and leaned forward, grabbing the rail that divided us from the conching machines for support. The world around me blurred into darkness, then snapped into full colour again. Mr. Whimsifinado studied me with a dull emotion that almost tried to pass for surprise. He leaned one hand against the rail too, and set the other against his waist.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm fine," I muttered, digging the heel of my hand into my forehead. I squeezed my eyelids tighter. "Clarice just jumped, that's all."

"Who's Clarice?" he asked, sounding half-bored and as though he were forcing conversation only for the sake of politeness. He tended to speak in a monotone way, I'd noticed, and this was no exception.

"Clarice is my…" I pressed my fingers to my temple. Now I faced a predicament. Engage the son of my disbelieving therapist in a discussion about Anti-Fairy culture, or tell Anti-Jared's VIP that I was afflicted by a mental condition and might, depending on his interpretation of it, be considered unwell?

I sighed and looked up at him. "This may sound strange, but when I was born, my lifesmoke became intertwined with the essence of a nature spirit. She sort of… lives in my head now. I've never known her to have a conscious sense of self or react strongly to much of anything before, except once when she was reluctant to step undercloud, but it would seem that something's set her off." I glanced about the room, searching for anything out of the ordinary. No. Just the two fairies. Did that mean Mr. Whimsifinado's list was the thing that bothered her so? How very curious indeed.

Mr. Whimsifinado brought his fist against his lips. He looked me up and down. "I think my father might have mentioned you. Do you know Wish Fixers?"

"Yes, dear Doctor Ambrosine has worked with me before," I admitted, with more than a little tentativeness.

"Then I hope he's been able to help you with your Clarice problem so far." He made a flat line motion with his hand. "Because I know literally nothing about mind and magic therapy myself."

I found that difficult to believe, but I nodded anyway.

Our tour continued. I showed Mr. Whimsifinado each of the machines, and he asked questions about every one without fail. I was still wracking my brain, trying to understand why Anti-Jared had invited him here, but the only possibility that came to mind was the thought that Mr. Whimsifinado must have a great deal of money he was willing to invest somewhere, and he had chosen to look into our company.

On our way to the break room, Mr. Whimsifinado caught me off guard when he began to ask questions about me, and my personal life. I began by reiterating my youth, and mentioning that my mother had named me after the nature spirit July, in the hopes of encouraging Mr. Whimsifinado to refer to me as Julius instead of by my adult name. I told him some about Mona, and about my Fairy World schooling. That snagged his interest like nothing else had yet. The schooling, I mean. Yes, I confessed, the school I presently attended was small, but I was determined to get into the Fairy Academy sometime after I turned 150,000.

"I'll be the first Anti-Fairy to graduate there since the Barrier went up. I've studied art for centuries at Frederick Shinesworth Lower School, but I'm actually planning to earn my Academy degree in genie studies. I've met a couple of genies, you know. Some of my dearest friends are genies. Now that's a long story to be told, ahaha. Well, what about you then, hm? Where did you go to school? With the name Whimsifinado, I'm sure you were able to get in anywhere you chose."

"I enrolled at the Academy," he said. "I studied Fairy law."

I blinked and turned to shoot him a frankly puzzled look. "Oh." I hadn't expected Ambrosine's precious firstborn to waste his years pursuing something so useless that paid so little. I began to realise why he must have moved in with his father and Emery again.

Mr. Whimsifinado eyeballed me without amusement. "Law may be 'Oh' to you, Anti-Cosmo, but that would make us even. Genies are 'Oh' to me."

"Yes, yes, of course. I meant no offense, you must understand." I floated a little faster, glad at least that he hadn't mocked me for hoping to graduate with an Academy degree one of these days. He may not hold enough respect for me and my people to truly understand our culture, but at least he granted me my dreams in peace.

The sample box of chocolates lay open on the break room table, just where I knew I'd find it. Mister's eyes widened when he saw them, and he looked pleadingly back at his uncle. Out of habit, I rinsed my hands in the washing bucket on the counter, then grabbed the rag and wiped them dry.

"Well, enough about me. My boss mentioned you're a Soil, aren't you? I haven't visited Twis' Temple in the quaint little town of Mudhale since I watched it collapse, but I've heard it's in the Lower East Region. A bit silly if you ask me, since the Robe from there is Teal and really that's where you'd expect the Water Temple to be instead of in the Purple Robe's region of Central Star, but of course, it was the Temples that were here first, and the names of our Regions and their associated colours long after that. We couldn't have the Robes wearing all zodiac colours if that zodiac isn't theirs, and it's certainly for the best that the two most prominent temples of Love and Breath are the ones positioned nearest the Divide gate, you know what I mean? Luna's Landing and Godscress, you know. But, I digress, ahaha. Enough about me, I said. Is it difficult to make the pilgrimage to the Lower East from Fairy World now that the Barrier is up? How often do you go?"

Mr. Whimsifinado raised one eyebrow. "Did your boss also tell you I'm Daoist? I.E. not Zodii?"

I jolted. The rag dropped from my hands to the floor. Mercifully, I managed to withhold the squeaking sound on the tip of my tongue. "Oh," I said instead, taking one step towards him. "Oh. I shouldn't have assumed."

"No moult off my wings. Let's move past it." He leaned over the table, arms still folded behind him. "Here, Sanderson. Come pick a chocolate to try. And tell Anti-Cosmo that you're grateful."

Mister hopped onto the chair, braced his arms, and surveyed his options. "How many can I take?"

"Just one."

"What if I have one for me and then you give me yours?"

"What if I give you two wing twistings every time you misbehave?"

Mister shook his head. He scrutinized the box with care, then pointed to a pleasant ball with a simple dash across its top. Mr. Whimsifinado gave it to him, and took a chocolate with an O that meant orange for himself.

"Would you care for some fresh milk?" I asked them, trying not to squeak.

They did. Mister had never had icy cold milk from Anti-Fairy World before, and he glugged it down with both hands around his glass, his head tilted all the way back. As for Mr. Whimsifinado and myself, we drank from mugs. I tapped my claws against the ceramic sides, then looked up. "You know, if you're ever looking for someone to explain the Zodii teachings, I would be happy to oblige."

"Anti-Cosmo, I'm content in my beliefs."

"Yes, yes, of course," I murmured, getting up to rinse out my empty cup. "I'm quite fine being Zodii myself."

"Makes sense," he muttered into his mug as he took another sip. "I wouldn't want to be Daoist either if my crown were as low as yours."

The cup dropped from my hand and shattered into a dozen pieces on the hard floor. My wings snapped forward, then back. I spun around, my jaw sagging open. "Excuse me what was that?"

He lowered his mug, revealing a clean upper lip without a hint of milk across it. "I didn't say anything."

All I could do was gape at the back of his head when he turned back to Mister, my offended hand pressed against my chest. Had he really just-? I mean, I didn't even know how to respond to- What?

"Mr. Whimsifinado?" One of my co-workers, Flake by name, appeared around the edge of the break room door. He smiled uncertainly at me, flicking his gaze at the broken ceramic on the ground. "Anti-Jared will see you now."

Mr. Whimsifinado handed his mug to me and followed Flake out. As he passed Mister, he placed his hand over his little square head in a pat and said, "Stay with Anti-Cosmo, Sanderson. I'm only a contact call away."

I was too speechless to protest. Mister turned to watch his uncle leave, and continued staring at the door for several seconds as their wingbeats drew away. The moment Mr. Whimsifinado's aura left the reach of his Fairy senses (I presumed), Mister turned his huge eyes on me again. All right. So I was nymphsitting now. Oh, Anti-Jared had better pay me well for this. Another few seconds passed in silence. Then Mister darted out his hand and grabbed another chocolate from the box.

"That's enough," I said, taking the box away from him. I closed it up and placed it on a high cupboard shelf. "You can have that last chocolate you've got there, but no more after that."

"Why didn't you have a chocolate?" Mister asked me.

I shut the cupboard and locked it with a tap of my wand. "I only like white chocolate, and I'm afraid there weren't any of those in our sample box today."

"Can I have your chocolate and this chocolate?"

"No. Two is more than enough for a child your size. We wouldn't want you to become sugarloaded, now would we?"

Mister sighed. "Okay. Can I have more milk?"

"If you ask politely for it. Politeness is a virtue, after all."

There was a pause. Then, with obvious reluctance, he muttered, "I want some more, please."

"Yes, I'd be happy to give you some more. Thank you for asking so politely." I fetched his cup and poured him a refill of sweet, cold milk. When I turned around, he wasn't at the table anymore. I pretended to be surprised, even though I'd heard the buzz of his wings when he'd flown over to the cabinet where I'd locked the chocolate box. He was straining at its door now, but try as he might, he couldn't fight his way past my magic. I put his milk on the table beside his other chocolate.

"You're quite fast, aren't you, child? I admire your uncle for keeping up with you." With that, I picked him up with my hands clamped around his middle, and returned him to his seat. Mister accepted this change with an unhappy frump. He looked to his left.

"Where's my milk?" he asked.

"It's right there in front of you."

He looked back and forth, then at me again. "Where?"

I pointed to his other side. Mister stared at the spot I indicated, then at me again. He was starting to become visibly upset. It was only when I walked over, picked up his glass, gave it a little shake, and set it in his hand that he seemed to realise it was there. He blinked, then drank it all. I stood back, mulling over that detail. An old memory stirred in the back of my mind, of a young anti-fairy struggling on an intelligence test long ago. What was it Ambrosine had told me then? Something very peculiar about his son not realising it when someone changed the position of objects behind him when he looked the other way… something about change blindness, or perhaps selective attention resulting from too much direct focus…

"Julius?"

Breaking from my thoughts, I turned to see Flake in the doorway again, eyeing Mister with obvious distaste. "Yes?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "How was the tour?"

"Oh… It was what it was. He wasn't nearly as critical about the place as I expected him to be, although he certainly asked a lot of very odd questions. Do you know what brought him out here, or why Anti-Jared is meeting with him?"

"I was hoping you did."

"No. Ooh, but did you hear what the man said to me just before you came in here to fetch him?" I knew my voice had risen in pitch, but I couldn't help myself. "'I wouldn't want to be Daoist either if my crown were as low as yours?'"

Flake's eyes widened. He was on me in an instant, running his hands along my arms as I twitched and trembled. "Did he really?"

"Yes! He did! How dare he comment on my lift like that? In public too! Why was he even looking?" I forced myself to lower my shout at last. Flake had pressed himself against me and quietly backed me into the frame of the door. My wings could no longer snap up and down in rapid rage then, and I felt my blood cooling down. My teeth clenched a little less. Even so, I scowled. "And what's worse is that he wasn't even looking when he said it, which means he probably looked when he first came in and then remembered. I don't go around checking out other people's lifts. Who does that? Oooh!" I clenched my fists. "I wish I would have noticed his."

Flake snickered into his sleeve and pressed even closer. "Can you even see the top of his head from down there?"

"Oh, pipe down, you miserable crumpet." I stuffed my hands into my pockets and glanced crossly away. "Well, what's your lift?"

"Nine proud centimetres. Ten on a good day."

My eye twitched. "Really?"

Pulling back at last now that I had calmed down again, he flicked the underside of his crown with his thumb. "Hey, born on a Friday in a Love year. Double trouble. What do you expect?"

"Hm." I shook my head and turned to watch Mister drink his milk again. Only… he was gone. Completely gone. I looked all around the break room, but he had disappeared. Flake realised what was going on and spun around with me. No sign of Mister in the corridor behind us, either. He whistled one long, low note.

"You weren't kidding. That's one fast nymph."

"Good smoke, I'm fired." I shot down the hallway, firing little pings of echolocation and struggling not to call his name, lest Mr. Whimsifinado or Anti-Jared overhear and come to twist my ear about it. It was harder to resist shouting than it looks, really. I searched up and down, peering over railings and even down into the depths of the factory. It was actually Flake who found him, standing on the metal platform where he and Mr. Whimsifinado had first bumped into me.

"Good smoke, get down from there!" I shouted, flying towards him. "That chocolate is boiling hot!" Not to mention caffeine in abundance was as good as pesticide to any Fairy.

My mistake was in screeching. Mister hadn't heard my wingbeats, and my sudden cry startled him into jumping forward. My claws missed him by centimetres. I watched, open-mouthed, as he plunged. Without even thinking, I dove into the vat after him.

Stupid mistake. Mister caught himself in mid-air, beating his wings, but it didn't stop me from splashing his face when my body fell past him and hit the chocolate.

Pain shot instantly across my everything. I writhed, spitting and flailing about. I may have been a Water year, but no one had ever taught me how to swim. My clawing only dragged me deeper.

All was brown. Closing in around me, smothering and choking me. Burning me. Mud, mud, mud, and I couldn't even stand up. No, no, no! My foggy brain tried to direct me upward as I sank, but I think I ended up turned around. Was I heading towards freedom, or only swimming deeper? The panic set in. I was going to die. Die here, buried alive, unable to fly again. Buried again, buried again! I screamed for rescue with all I had, but no one came.

No one… came… so I gave up… trying.

I bolted upright, coughing and choking on dry air. When I looked about, I wasn't drowning in chocolate. Chips of wood cascaded from my legs. Each of my limbs glowed bright blue. Turquoise, I suppose. Oh, bother. Had I always had this many limbs? I grabbed my shoulders and hunkered up in a tiny ball.

I sat alone in a small room that looked far too much like a cage to be coincidence. It had bars, and the world beyond them was dark and black. As I studied the place, the tension in my body began to ease. This was the same world I'd seen the last time I regenerated, back in the Breath Temple. In that case, I was likely fine. Just fine.

Assuming I ever awoke from regeneration again. Anti-Bryndin had warned Mona and I that an Anti-Fairy devoured by a great glider snake with inrita in its stomach acid would likely never make it back to the living world again. Might the same fate befall me in the chocolate vat? I had no idea.

I was alone within the cage. The nearest bars weren't very far from where I sat now. I crawled through the wood chips to reach them, mostly on my stomach. My knees struggled to hold my weight. The bars were too close together for me to squeeze through, at least while I retained this solid form. For a moment, I held very still, and blinked out in confusion at the world beyond my prison.

I was being held within a larger room. Much, much larger. The distant walls were white, and everything was big around me, as though I were as small as a rat. The light was dim, and I saw strange things in a way that involved neither my eyes nor my ears as I knew them… One door. Enormous bookshelves. More tasselled cushions than any one person could possibly use. Which possibly explained why there were two people in this room.

Er… "People" might be a misnomer, though I wouldn't want to be the one to tell them that to their faces. I think they were little more than children, although conceptualizing them was surprisingly… tricky. They were enormous, like the children of giants. Naked, although with their skin smooth and freckled like starry skies, it somehow didn't matter. They both had rather androgynous body shapes, and both had long and flowing hair that made it that much harder to tell what gender they might be.

They were both so odd, I hardly knew which one to focus my attention on first. I listened to their voices for a moment, and determined that the one on my left, who wore strange covers over her pointed ears and bobbed her head in time with the beat of music that she alone could hear, seemed to consider herself a damsel. The one on the right, lying on his stomach and reading long scrolls, seemed to think he was a drake. They were speaking to each other, not to me, and bantering in the way that siblings do. He had skin as pale blue-green as crystal dewdrops upon the morning grass, and wild black hair thick with shooting stars. Golden cuffs encircled his wrists, connected to chains that wound away somewhere I couldn't see. His face bore scars in careful patterns as though they'd been cut into his skin deliberately. She was as white as freshly fallen snow, with only one large, brown eye in the centre of her face. And she had crab claws for hands, which was not what I was expecting at all.

Nature spirits. That's what they had to be, of course. The scarred, blue-green one I didn't recognise. The damsel was more interesting. If she was a nature spirit and her patron was a crab, then that meant she had to be a mud spirit. That in turn made her a daughter of Sunnie and Twis. I pressed my face against the side of my cage, wrapping my hands around the cold bars. It almost seemed too much to hope for, but…

… Might I be staring down at Beira? The young spirit who had given the cloudlands solid form long ago?

My suspicions were concerned hardly a blink of an eye later. "Beira," hollered a damseline voice from somewhere beyond the door. "Did you finish cleaning your Temple?"

"Yes, Auntie!" Beira shouted back. She stuck her tongue out at the drake lying on the cushions and gave her single eye an exaggerated roll. "Can you believe she's doing this again? She's not even my real mom."

"You don't have a mom," said the drake, unrolling another scroll. Beira kicked it shut.

"Don't even start with me, Feb. You're one to talk."

I jumped. Aha! He was February, son of Sunnie and Thurmondo, and the reason why we considered Late Winter to be the end of our calendar. I should have guessed. After all, he was a spirit of dew. It wasn't as though there were many of them around.

February shoved her with his foot, pushing Beira's jaw higher and higher until she was forced to lean back. His legs were shaped very oddly, like those of a frog. "Would you cut that out? Too much Sunnie is seeping into your personality again, and that is not what I came here for today."

Beira smiled at him with faux sweetness. "Here's a flash of news for you: I am Sunnie."

February wrinkled his nose. "So am I, but you don't see me letting it overtake the personality I chose for myself."

"I could try to be a little more like Twis, but I'd have a hard time keeping my face so stiff and grumpy."

All of a sudden, February shot upright and whipped around. His dark hair fluttered around his ears. "What's that noise?"

I froze among the wood chips, but it didn't stop him from staring at me. He lifted one long finger to point my way.

"Beira. Look. It's the Water soul inside your cage. It's finally waking up."

Beira took off her ear covers and turned around. "Huh?"

February rolled off his cushions and walked (feet slapping about) over to my cage. He brought his face right up against mine. I shrank back, but not far. February examined my cage's lid, and managed to unlatch it before Beira joined him.

"I think Munn gave me this old set-up," she said, clacking her crab claw hands. "He stole it from Sunnie's room once, but I can't remember why."

"Who cares? It's awake. I want to look at it." February reached at me through the hole. Since his squishy frog hands terrified me less than Beira's, I relented. He cupped my belly as he lifted me out, leaving me lying flat on my stomach. My arms and legs dangled below.

Beira watched him carry me over to the cushions where he had been reading. He sort of flopped with every step he took. She rubbed behind her neck. "You've seen souls before. Why are you so interested in this one?"

"I dunno." February set me on the ground and then crouched beside me. "Why did Sunnie keep it locked up by itself before Munn stole it?"

"Hey, you're an aspect of Sunnie's consciousness mixed up with Thurmondo's and given your own free will. If you've got their memories, shouldn't you already know?"

"Well, so are you, basically. Shouldn't you know?"

Beira stood there, clicking her hands open and shut. "The Sunnie part of me doesn't know. I think the Twis part might. I think Twis put it in there."

I struggled to stand, only for my legs to give out beneath me. I tried again. And again. February even offered me his thumb to hold onto, but it wasn't enough. Imagine that. I, a mere lowly anti-fairy, touched the hand of a nature spirit! He was a minor spirit, and terribly unimportant, but he was a spirit nonetheless.

"Why can't it walk?" Beira asked, kneeling on my other side.

"I think it's sick. Maybe it was in quarantine."

Beira said something that I could only half hear. My vision blurred with smoke and liquid. I collapsed against February's hand, and when I woke up, I was lying on my stomach in the very same position. Only I was in my full Anti-Cosmo form again, lying on the metal platform beside the vat of boiling chocolate where I'd fallen. Hm. Evidently, my smoke had gotten smart and, after a few failed attempts to reform down there, withdrawn to a more stable location to put me together again. Regardless, sweltering sores scarred my back. I could feel the crease of every one of them. Oof. I doubted I would lose those nasty blisters until my next regeneration.

When I opened my good eye, I found Mister standing above me, sucking on the ball of chocolate he'd taken from the sample box. He waved when he saw me looking at him. Flake floated nearby, his hands scarred to the elbows. Oh. He must have dragged my half-formed body up here. Groaning, I pushed myself partly up. My arms shook horrendously. I was still slathered in hot liquid, and most of my fur felt as though it had burned away. When I shook my head, my ears flopped about my face. I pushed up my bangs (or what was left of them) and fixed Mister with a solid glare.

"Don't. Do that. Again."

"You smell like chocolate now," was all he said in reply.

Mr. Whimsifinado showed actual traces of emotion when he left Anti-Jared's office in the end. I was still a fuming, wretched mess, clutching Mister in my arms since I refused to let him out of my sight again. Flake had rinsed Mister down while I'd spent several moments regenerating, so at least stray splashes of chocolate hadn't seared his skin. Even so, Mr. Whimsifinado appraised the child's every visible part, licking all of him with his rasping tongue. Mister didn't seem to mind this, and even told the story of his adventure through the chocolate factory while his uncle preened him clean. It was not a very long story, and suffice to say was hardly accurate at all. I stayed nearby the entire time, silent as a scorched shadow, my arms very tightly crossed. Yes, I did wait for Mr. Whimsifinado to apologise. I waited in vain.

"You have to keep very close watch on nymphs at this age," he told me.

"You-" I began. It was the only word I got out. Instantly, Flake launched himself forward and brought his body between me and Mr. Whimsifinado. I didn't get my fangs put away fast enough, so he used all his mass to push me against the wall. It wasn't as though he weighed a lot, thanks in part to the helium gasket in his head, but he was bigger than I was. So I shut up, and surrendered myself to sulk in silence.

Anti-Jared was the only one who pitied me. Of course the chocolate had been lost, and we had to drain it all and sterilise everything. Yet, I was permitted to keep my job. For now.

The company was sold a week later. Mr. Whimsifinado bought us out all on his own.

I really didn't know what to expect at my first company meeting under my new boss, but it most definitely wasn't what happened. Anti-Jackson greeted us all, and announced that Mr. Whimsifinado had purchased the Sugarslew factory in order to end its days of chocolate making completely, and use the machines found here to produce the medicine that Wish Fixers bestowed upon its clients. Chocolate, for medicine! Can you even believe it? Pity we hadn't been informed before we'd just spent our resources refilling the vat I'd fallen in.

I promptly quit my job the following day. Mother was as furious as expected, bemoaning me a deadbeat and saying all sorts of horrid things. Likewise, some of my peers in the Castle (Winslow, Teresa, and Prickle especially) couldn't believe their ears when they heard the news. They protested. They berated. They whined about their misfortune of no longer wheedling free samples out of me (as though that were my fault). They flattered and coaxed and nuzzled up to me as best as they were able to.

But I could not be swayed. Medicine or chocolate, I'd have quit either way. Mr. Whimsifinado had horrendously injured my pride more than once. Until my ragged fur grew in again, I had the horrid burn scars to prove it. You see, I have my pride. That's very important to me. If there was one thing in the universe I absolutely couldn't stand, it was having to live and work in the service of someone I didn't even like.

That was one fun fact about me which would never change.

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A/N - My favorite part of this chapter is a toss-up between Anti-Fairies having inexplicably accurate knowledge about modern day chocolate-making practices, and my very strange desire to make a giant (albeit non-flaming) cyclops with crab hands reference.