Koko clung to Lulu like his life depended on it. His twin did the same. There was a big Orc lady and a slightly smaller Dragonborn and both of them were the type that some other kids said would fatten up and eat little teeny Elves like them. Personally, Koko wouldn’t mind the ‘fattening up’ part, but he didn’t want to end up as anyone else’s stew.

This was a home visit, according to the officials. One week away in someplace called Star River, then back to the bland, grey chill of the orphanage for assessment. Koko knew what ‘assessment’ meant. It meant a standing naked in a cold, clinical room while entire bunches of people poked and prodded at him and took blood and asked questions and tutted at his answers and made him pee into small containers and he never knew if anything was right.

Assessment was where they pulled him away from Lulu so hard that they both had bruises for a week and scrubbed him raw and shaved his head. Koko hated assessment.

The Dragonborn - Mrs Fangbattle - was chattering nonstop while her Orc wife drove the carriage. Koko hardly paid attention to it. Most of it was about some legal tangle involving the place they were going to. Old wards and farmland and some estate auction or other horseshit. He was just focussed on holding Lulu for all the time they had left.

Lulu whispered into his ear, in Us, just to be sure, “We’re not dead yet.”

Koko knew Lulu meant it as reassurance, but he couldn’t help thinking of it as an impending threat. Like they only had hours left to them. Like they were destined to be dead later.

He flinched when a huge, Orcish hand petted his shaved head, then hated himself for purring at the contact. He shrank away from the touch and watched out the corner of his eye as an Orc hand that could easily crush his whole head went back to gently grasping the reins.

“It’s always like this,” said the Orc. The other Mrs Fangbattle. “Too scared of the unknown to give anything or anyone a chance. I’ve been there. I’d hoped things had changed, but… they haven’t.”

He had no idea what they’d meant about that. He and Lulu had had scant time with these two at all. Now the orphanage trusted them to take him and Lulu away to who-knew-where to do gods-knew-what and…

Wait.

Koko looked again, startled. He picked out the next one a mile further along the road and pointed it out to Lulu. The symbols may dance for him, but Lulu could make them stand still by holding his[1] fingers just so. Koko could never make them behave like that. Yet another way in which Lulu was the better twin. Not that he’d ever say that out loud.

“Lulu! Lookit.” He switched to Us after that little stumble and said, “Do the finger trick. That’s gotta be a marker for Grampa’s place!”

Lulu looked. Waited until the stone was close enough and did the finger trick. Neither of them could read Elven, but they remembered the symbols on those markers. “It is! It is! We’re headed for Grampa’s village! We can jump off and hide in the safety holes and steal food off’a the guests and they’d never get to us because of the family wards. Koko, you’re a genius!”

“Hello…” said Mrs Fangbattle. The blue one. “You see something familiar? Have you been here before?”

They went back to their huddle, and guarded silence. They couldn’t let the plan out where these two Elf-eaters could foil it. They had to bide their time and wait.

*

Carey jumped a little when the twins bolted off the carriage and ran for the campsite, hand in hand. “Wait,” she shouted. “There’s dangerous wards all over–”

The twins just breezed past them like they belonged there.

“Well. That’s unusual,” said Killian in an epic level of irony. “They’re the first ones besides the Starlights who could just cruise through those wards.”

Carey sighed. “Well. They belong there. It might make them feel better about us?”

“No, love. This is bad. They belong there. Which means they’re related to the Starlights. Which means either they or the orphanage are guilty of fraud. And if it’s them, they’re also guilty of criminal neglect.”

“Ooohhh…” Carey let that all sink in. “Well, shit. Okay. It’s my turn to call the Bureau lawyers. You get a good old camp stew going. The kids are likely to hide in that tree until boredom sets in, right?”

“Maybe,” Killian allowed. “I’ll give them a couple of hours, anyway.”

The time almost flew by. Killian spent most of it halting what she was doing and staring at the Mountain Ygdrassi castle in the hopes of seeing two small, Elven forms turning up anywhere. She couldn’t help worrying that they’d found some ancient Elven trap or fallen prey to some wild creature living in the labyrinthine expanse of tree and burrow. They were skinny enough to slide right down the kludgie-holes and get trapped in the noissome oubliette at the tree’s roots…

Finally, when the arbitrary time limit was up, she picked up one of her smaller weapons and adventuring gear and announced, “Fuck it. I don’t care what those wards do to me, I need to make sure our kids are safe.”

A little known fact about Elven wards. When designed to secure the safety and protection of the family, they have a rather loose and inclusive definition of ‘family’. In brief, Killian had just said the magic words.

Not that she cared about any of that. Her first priority was the pair of tiny children presumably lost in the confounding tangle of warrens and hollows that was inside the tree. She charged in, more worried about them than herself. Prepared to take on any threat within those ever-growing walls.

She found them curled up in a cote off the ground floor family area. A space just big enough to hold the both of them and keep them out of Killian’s reach. Safe and sound.

“Oh thank the gods,” she breathed. “Lulu, Koko… this place has been abandoned for years. There could be snakes and other things in the small spaces. Please come on out? I’m worried about you.”

They boggled at her like she’d grown two heads. There was a hushed but animated argument.

Lulu said, “How’d you get past the wards?”

“I had to make sure you two were safe,” she said. “I don’t care what they do to me. Come on. We can camp in the safe zone and figure out what’s happening later. I need you safe now.”

Lulu looked to Koko, who sized Killian up like a butcher sizing up a hog. Finally, he said, “Okay,” and started crawling out of the tiny cote.

He and Lulu actually suffered her careful grasp, carrying them out of there. Still clinging to each other as they clung to her for stability. Something momentous had happened, she knew it. What exactly it was could wait until these two had all they could eat and a proper rest back at camp.

[1] Timeline-accurate gender. Lulu realises the truth about herself later on.

Everyone knew about the horrors of St Vingo’s by the time the twins fount Montgomery’s circus again. Montgomery had made the mistake of assuming that they would be safe in the arms of their extant family. He had assumed erroneously.

Their remaining living relatives - pure assholes. Once the grandfathers died, all promises of a safe home and a good future were forfeit. Which was why the circus found them again - destitute, desperate prostitutes who ran for the shelter of scum and villainy that was Montgomery’s Amazing Circus.

He let them be as idle as they wanted to be until they hit the Winter Campgrounds in Varmvale. It seemed fair. They needed time. Time to recover. Time to establish normalcy. Time to heal both mentally and physically from their misadventures. Time… that nobody had enough of.

Montgomery woke in the wee small hours to the sound of shouting and camp gear getting knocked over. That was Koko’s voice. He slithered out of his warmed bed to see what the ruckus was, not even bothering to sling on a coat, and remaining in only his sleeping cap.

Koko was out in the campgrounds, shouting at phantoms. He had a wooden spoon in one hand, aiming it like a wand. Judging by the burned end, it was not a wood that was friendly to magic. Judging by the scorch marks around camp, this was not an activity friendly to anyone.

He had to get this situation calmed down before anyone happened to anyone else.

“Keep away from them, you bitch,” Koko panted. “I got my wand. You can’t get them. You can’t have them!”

“That’s right,” said Montgomery, facing the invisible foe of Koko’s imagination with him. “You want them, you’ll have to get through me.”

Koko seemed startled a little. “Monty?”

“That’s right. It’s me.” Because of the situation, he used his least-favourite nickname on himself. “Monty. I want you to take three deep breaths, and name five things you can see. Take your time, now.” Time was the important factor. Koko’s body was awake, but his brain was still having a nightmare.

Koko looked around, still having difficulty discerning reality from phantasm. “Moon. Moon! I see th’ moon. Trees. Caravans. Campfire. You look fuckin’ stupid in your sleep cap, Monty.”

“I’ve been told,” he said dryly. “You’re doing great. Name four things you can hear, now.”

Koko’s ears twitched. “I hear… leaves rustling. The campfire coals cracking. There’s an owl… I hear La’ming snoring.”

Montgomery snorted. “Halverdale could hear La’ming snoring… That’s great. Concentrate on three things you can feel. Let’s hear them.”

Koko closed his eyes. “I… have… too tight a grip on this spoon… I feel… dirt… under my feet…”

He was starting to panic a little. Montgomery could tell by the way Koko’s ears drooped back and started swivelling closer to his head. He reached out and stroked Koko’s cheek while holding his hand. “Take your time, Koko.”

Tears gathered at the edge of his eyes. “I feel you.”

“That’s good. Good. Deep breath. Tell me about two things you can smell.”

“Horse farts and Naga’s bed funk.” Koko opened his mismatched eyes. The little asshole was fully awake and skating on thin ice as he always did.

“Last step, kid,” Montgomery started guiding him back to the caravan from whence he had come. “One thing you can taste.”

Koko smacked his lips and grimaced. “I need to brush my teeth. My mouth is gross.”

“After dawn,” Montgomery suggested. Inside the twins’ caravan, Lulu was still in bed, arms outstretched for a sibling that wasn’t there. She had only just begun whimpering in her sleep.

Sleep. Not meditation. They didn’t trust their safety. Not yet. The Starlights and their dreams of riches had ruined what little trust had remained in the twins’ souls. Now they slept every time, and meditated rarely, if at all.

Koko clambered into Lulu’s reach, whispering, “It’s all right. We’re safe. They’re gone.” The fact that he could summon only half a breath’s worth of a safe-comfortable-secure kind of purr was telling, and telling harshly, that he wasn’t sure, either.

Montgomery closed their door for them, fetched his coat, and kept watch over their caravan until the dawn coloured in the landscape. They would both likely need sleeping sacks to prevent another random outbreak of somnambulistic battles of old ghosts from their past.

They would definitely need heavy counselling from Exandria when they were safely within the boundaries of Varmvale.

Which left Montgomery the problem of finding light, summer-rated sleeping sacks as the Autumnal chill kept strengthening, and puzzling out who the twins could talk to until Exandria was within reach.

All he could do in the meantime was keep them supplied with dandelions and mead, in the hopes that it would at least calm their fears until something better came along.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 8]

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Still Tumbl'd, Still TAZ - Chapter 11 - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]

La’ming has a tale to tell.

Apologies in advance for anyone disappointed by it. I did promise I’d keep these PG

Good news, bad news, good news… good news, he had an act that was a guaranteed draw. Practically everything the Elf twins Lulu and Koko did was an instant draw for paying customers. This included the Wild Things of Bor’ne’o, their cooking in the Chuck Wagon, and their futzing around with the high-wire folk. They could draw a curious crowd by washing dishes. It was amazing.

Bad news, that selfsame act was the biggest drain on the circus’ Bail Fund. No matter how well they dressed, acted, or behaved, they were bound to get arrested for doing something whilst Elven. That was also amazing, but in the opposite direction.

The twins spent most of their time pretending they didn’t speak common. Playing the fool at virtuoso levels while the circus got acclimated to them. Montgomery, being ringmaster, owner, manager, and ersatz parent to the entire fucking circus, kept them with him in his caravan for mutual safety.

Five arrests in as many towns had left the kids gun-shy about going anywhere or doing anything without some kind of guardian nearby. Which meant Montgomery had them permanently in his shadow whenever they weren’t working. He was, after all, the only figure in authority who seemed to hold a vested interest in their welfare at all.

Gods alone knew how they were going to handle the Winter Campgrounds.

Gods alone knew how his wife was going to handle the additions to the informal family.

Thus it was that he took the last turn towards Varmvale with some trepidation in his heart. Further south than Neverwinter, the snows never reached it. The lands were wide and the seaside proved a draw for the wealthy when the circus was out touring. There, the friends and family of the tour waited for winter for the circus to come home.

His dear darling Exandria didn’t travel well, and managed the town as mayor during all seasons, all whilst raising their hatchlings in the comfort of their home.

Lulu and Koko roused from their torpor in the caravan and emerged to peer over the vertiginous curves of the main road to Varmvale. They chattered to each other in their own tongue, sounding trepidatious as they spoke.

“Looks like a pretty small town, Monty,” said Lulu eventually, ignoring Koko trying to pull her back into the safety of the caravan. “How are we gonna earn enough to get out of it?”

“We don’t have to,” he said. “This is where the circus winters.” He did not call it ‘home’ as Koko was allergic to that word. “You two can stay with my family or reside in one of the cabins for the cold season, though we do expect you to keep it clean and orderly if you do.”

“No way,” said Koko. “There’s a Mama Monty?”

“A Mrs Monty,” Montgomery allowed, using their own terms. “And a few Montlings.”

Koko muttered something in the twins’ language and got an elbow from Lulu. Whatever he said must have been rude. Montgomery ignored the exchange.

Lulu said, “Just checkin’, you’re -uh- you’re not… fattening us up for Candlenights or that, right?”

“Nonsense. Roast Elf is for Midsummer.” Montgomery could bite himself for that joke. These were flighty kids, prone to just run off if things looked too dangerous. “You’re way too profitable alive and whole to become any portion of any given meal.”

“Promise?” said Koko, to receive another elbow from his sister.

“No harm will come to you,” he said. The words seemed to be wearing a groove in his forked tongue. These kids must have come afoul of a lot of liars in their brief years. “You two make more in ticket sales than you cost in bail, I want you to stay with us.”

They didn’t fight on the road down into the vale. They clung to rails or permanent parts of the caravan until the inherent fall into the bottom of the valley was no longer a threat. After they were on more level ground, they adjourned to the interior of the caravan for a good old brawl.

Montgomery let them battle the ginger out of their veins. It would be a while yet before the long and winding roads took them towards the gigantic parking zone for the circus’ storage and stables. The twins eventually tired of their battle and surfaced to watch from the relative safety of the caravan roof. An ideal spot to turn and bolt from if things looked dangerous.

Montgomery could pick out the cosy little house where his family resided. He could spot Exandria by her hat. That silly straw hat she always wore when she was working in the garden. He could see his oldest daughter, too. Gathering her share of the harvest into a basket on top of her head.

Almost. Almost there. Other houses escaped his notice. He couldn’t care less about them right now. His eyes were on the next fork in the road, the next turn, this landmark or that. Every mark that meant he was closer and closer to his family’s loving arms.

They were waiting for him in the parking grounds. Exandria, Lilly, Rosemary, and a new little one in Exandria’s arms. This new figure had a hood. A boy. He had no heed for whether or not the twins followed, he simply sprang off the caravan and rushed to greet his first son.

The baby boy was concerning himself with gumming at his own wrists. He must be working on his infant fangs. Thank goodness Yuan’ti poison glands didn’t come in until the child was in their teens.

“More waifs and strays?” Exandria was peering past Montgomery’s left arm.

Only now was he aware of the presences so close to his tail. The twins clustered close to each other and, using his body as a shield, hunkered out of immediate grasping range whilst simultaneously peering around at the collected ‘Montlings’.

“They don’t have anyone else,” said Montgomery. “They’re very talented performers and… they need security.”

Exandria sized the two of them up in a cold second. “You two are welcome to my home. Any time.”

Lulu and Koko exchanged glances, exchanged chatter in their private tongue. Eventually, Koko said, “No… thank you?”

Lulu, bolder of the two, said, “Is is safe to hold your baby?”

“His name is Daniil.” Exandria had a dark joke, too. “If you don’t steal him, he won’t bite.”

Montgomery helped Lulu hold baby Daniil. He wondered anew that such a small creature could exist. Lulu and Koko seemed to be wondering, too. They clustered around Daniil.

Daniil cooed for the new faces, and wriggled into the twins’ body heat with small, happy noises.

For the first time in Montgomery’s hearing, the twins started to purr.

“Oh gods, he’s adorable,” Koko crooned, thus gaining eternal favour in Exandria’s eyes.

“He’s so cute,” singsonged Lulu. “I wanna steal him already.”

Good gods, that was an actual joke. They were getting confident. Montgomery was impressed. Nevertheless, he wanted to hold his baby boy.

“My turn, thank you,” he said, easing his son out of teenaged Elven arms. The twins still hovered close, watching Daniil squirm in his infant way. “Welcome to the family,” he said. To his son and to the twins at the same time.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 7]

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Short Answer: Depends on the universe.
Long answer: This -

Canon Compliant

Angus McDonald baulked the instant the light spilled into the old tunnels. Agatha, her hand in his, felt his pulse jump. She crept forward and whispered, “Bad guys?”

“Worse,” Angus whispered. “Cobwebs.”

She peeked, looking in at what their dark lantern revealed. She leveled a glare at him. “Cobwebs scare you?”

“Not the cobwebs. The spiders that made them.” Angus felt compelled to add, “I don’t make fun of you for hating big heights.”

Young Angus Verse

Agatha noticed that Angus’ breathing quickened as they stepped into the confines of the tunnel. She whispered, “Claustrophobia?”

“Kind of,” he whispered back. “I told you about the orphanage I started in, right?”

“Yeah?”

“I have a lingering thing with small, dark spaces…”

Agatha understood. This was just like her lingering thing with small and fast insects. “It’s all right. There’s a way out the other end and we have a dark lantern. It’s going to be okay.”

He focussed on trying to breathe. “Sorry if I squeeze your hand too tight,” he whispered.

Circus verse

“…werk,” mumbled Agatha, pulling away from the edge.

Angus, used to the trapeze and the tightrope since practically infancy, looked over the edge. “Yeah, that’s a long way down. There’s a ladder. I could carry you…”

“…werk,” she repeated. “This is worse for me than thunderstorms are for you.”

“You be in one wind-tossed caravan once, and then argue with me,” he countered. “It’s okay. The ladder’s in good repair. I’ve never slipped in all my years. You’ll be fine.”

Agatha kept her eyes closed and clung tight all the way down.

Baby Birds AU

Angus shrank away from the table and the bowl of black-to-brown things that was one of the feast options.

Agatha, who’d taken him as her plus one on this mission, leaned closed to his ear and whispered, “You okay?”

“…looks like mould,” he whispered, breathing fast. “I hate mould. I’ve always hated mould.”

“These are butter-fried mushrooms,” she whispered. “They’re tasty. I promise they’re good.” To prove her words true, she speared some and set them on her plate, taking a cut and eating it. “See? It’s good.” Agatha offered him a tiny sliver. “Want to try?”

It took him ten deep breaths to brave a taste. Just like it had for her to try jellied eels.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 7]

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Several carts had broken, thus causing the circus to come to a halt a mere day outside of their next destination. Options were not good. Carry the circus to their field by relay, overload the existing wagons and carts and hope no more breakages happened, or send someone ahead to fetch a cartwright and take a hit to the Bail Fund.

While they camped and argued, hardly anyone noticed La’ming ‘borrowing’ a horse to head into the plentiful town of Highmarrow.

Not until lunchtime, when Lulu and Koko had made lunch and entertainment together in the chuck wagon, when they noticed that their adopted mother was conspicuous by her absence.

“LIsten, see. We got some horses that ain’t got carts to pull. We can load them up and load up the people as much as can,” said Borstok. “Our strong man can lift two hundred pounds.”

“Lift, yes,” countered Montgomery. “Carry… not so much. You can lift one hundred and fifty pounds. Can you carry it far?”

“Monty…” said Koko.

It was the note of worry, rather than the nickname, that caught Montgomery’s attention. Koko was generally cold to others and paranoid about everything. Anything he could laugh off, the circus could work around. Therefore, anything that made him show concern was a sure indicator of something gone or was about to go seriously bad. “A moment,” said Montgomery. “What’s happening, Koko?”

“Our mo– La’ming’s gone missing,” he said, twiddling with the ties of his tunic. His luume-influenced adoption by the Sea Elf performer hadn’t been the smoothest. He and his sister were “only a few decades” away from being officially adults. That little verbal stumble was actually a good sign for Koko.

“Missing,” Montgomery repeated.

“She took our horse and left a note,” Koko handed it over.

It read, Gone for cartwright, you kids stay good. Should be back by lunch. And a scribbled heart and her signature.

“It’s way past lunch,” Koko added. “I know we’re still fighting over the next step, but… Maybe some humanmen could go lookin’ or something?” He stopped twiddling and straightened himself. “Not that I care or anything. It’s just that The Mermaid’s one of our biggest draws an’ we just got a Major Restoration on her ears ‘n’ shit…”

A gift that resulted from the twins running hustles over the last five towns. La’ming had been overjoyed while the twins downplayed it at every opportunity. The kids were of the opinion that no Elf deserved to have their ears docked. La’ming was of the opinion that she had the best kids in the universe -nay, in the planar system, and twitched her ears about just because she could.

…ears that she sometimes forgot to hide or disguise when going into new towns.

“Oh shit,” Montgomery muttered. He rushed over to the largest cluster of Humans in their impromptu camp and interrupted their bickering with, “One of our own has gone missing in or around Highmarrow. It’s Ms Ton, so go asking after the horse without making it sound like she’s stolen it, thankyou. I need word of what’s happened to her.”

*

The downside of places like Saint Vingo’s was that some of its dirty secrets got passed around. La’ming couldn’t blame her babies for passing on the curses of its spells on to the future incarcerators of Administrator Citron. Not even when such spells had been passed around enough to use on her.

Currently, her captors had her trapped in Citron’s Malevolent Sensory Deprivation. She was blind, deaf, and incapable of feeling anything. It could drive a being insane to be without any kind of sensory input at all. She couldn’t even hear the rhythm of her own body.

Koko, on the rare occasions that he spoke about what he endured under Citron’s heel, had said that when he gave up on screaming and struggling, the spell would lift and his senses would return. Sometimes, he was on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion when that happened.

Now she could understand why. That spell was terrifying.

Light, sound, and feeling returned, and she was in a cage. Facing down the impassive and incredibly ugly face of Lybirti Sor. Her former owner/handler. Her former master.

“You got old and fat,” she said, and winced at the sting in her newly-restored ears.

“You don’t talk unless you call me master,” he said. “You behave yourself and life’ll be good for you again.” By which he meant, do as he said, fawn, simper, and let him have his way, and he might give her enough to eat every day and not hit her so much.

“Fuck you,” she said. She had enough time to hiss at the blistering pain in her ears from Citron’s Blazing Correction before Sor sent her back into the cloying darkness of sensory deprivation. She relaxed and let the spell dissipate so she could say, “Fuck you with the rough end of a pinecone.”

She had to stay sane, keep Sor off of her, and survive long enough to figure out a way to get back to her babies. She didn’t care if her new ears burned to cinders, she would fucking kill this guy.

No matter how often she returned to the world of feeling in tears. No matter how hoarse her throat. No matter how often the fine webs of her ears seared with her every show of resistance. She. Was. Going. To kill him.

*

When the circus descended on Lybirti Sor, it was not the Humans alone who came with weapons drawn and threats ready on their lips. A good two thirds of the circus came for him. Orcs, Elves, Dragonborn, Changelings… all the heaviest hitters. And three glass cannons in the form of Lulu, Koko, and Mak’arune.

The Orcs punched the shit out of him, the Dragonborn scorched him with their breaths, the Changelings confounded him as they stabbed him with their blades. Montgomery got a bite in before the twins freed La’ming and Mak’arune healed her blisters.

The two Elven children gave La’ming a choice. Wand or Blade. One offering per twin.

She picked up the wand from Lulu, accepted an ingredients pouch from Koko, and drew a bead on her former captor. Three deep breaths as the rest of the team stepped back from the bloody and bruised form of Lybirti Sor. La’ming chose her spell. She said, “Abra-ka-fuck you!” and cast Cloud of Daggers directly in the area where Sor was kneeling and begging for mercy.

La’ming watched him die with an impassive face, then ran off to be sick behind the nearest tree.

Lulu, Koko, and Mak’arune ran after her, not caring to go through Sor’s pockets for anything valuable. Fortunately, Borstok was there to make up for that lack.

It was quite the scene. La’ming retching bile as she clutched at the tree while three Elves swarmed, trying to soothe her. Lulu and Koko knew the effects of those spells well. Too well. They knew what those spells had done to them. Intimately. They knew what the aftermath of facing a captor was like.

“Deep breaths, now,” said Koko. “Breathe in the clean air. Feel it in your lungs. You know it’s over. It’s over for good. You got ‘im.”

Lulu, a step ahead in the logic processes, had realised that it was their actions who had hurt their adopted mother. She was weeping as she attempted to comfort La’ming. All she could say was variants of, “I’m sorry,” over and over again.

Mak’arune fussed with draping La’ming with her shawl and some petticoats and rubbing whatever handy portion of La’ming’s body was close by whilst rattling through all the herbal remedies and simples she could make with whatever herbs she could spot at the moment.

Koko was the one who slipped La’ming his pipe and some dried dandelion. Nobody had a single word of objection.

The circus arrived at Highmarrow a day late, with freshly-repaired wagons and two acts currently out of commission. Technically three, if one counted the Conjoined Twin Act, which was a combination cooking show, fake freak exhibit, and catering. Those placards were stowed in one of the moving carts as a small family of Elves cuddled together in the Big Hammock.

It lay strung between La’Ming’s caravan - the one she shared with the twins - and Mak’arune’s, which she inherited from La’ming. It was big enough to hold ten adults, which meant that La’ming, the twins, and Mak’arune were all cuddled together in it with as many pillows, blankets, and throws as they could cram into its voluminous folds.

Montgomery checked up on them occasionally and brought them meals.

There was an assortment of purrs within the cluster. Loud, soft, and stressed, though it would take an expert to tell who was making which kind of purr. As long as they were purring, Montgomery rationalised, they were on their way to being okay.

He really hoped he wouldn’t have to drag his wife and youngest all the way to their next destination for some emergency counselling. Exandria never travelled well, the poor sweetheart.

In the late afternoon, an almost unnatural hush from the Elven huddle prompted Montgomery to carefully excavate his way through the encompassing blankets to investigate. Encountering a mildly hostile Koko prompted him to stop.

“Boss or not,” Koko whispered, “You wake our moms and I’ll magic missile your fucking tail off.” Just visible nearby were the cuddling, slumbering forms of La’ming and Mak’arune.

Montgomery wisely decided not to call any attention to Koko’s Fantasy Freudian Slip.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 6]

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Every circus obtained temporary hangers-on. People who thought that life in a travelling show was romantic or would be fun for all of their time there. They were usually disillusioned after a handful of days and their turn to gather the horse dung from the campsite.

Most of them didn’t last the distance between two towns, often turning back to the life they lead before they fell in and out of love with the circus. There were others who were more trouble, not because they fell in love with the circus and were bad for it, but because they attached themselves to some circus performers. Montgomery had had to chase more than one off of the twins, they were the truly heinous sort who didn’t care that the fabulous chefs and amazing trapeze artists were underage.

Koko, who kept fatally falling for older men, kind of hated Monty for doing that but Lulu’s gratitude balanced things out in the end.

Then there was the complications with Mak’arune.

She was with the circus, initially because she had to be. Then because she was intensely useful to the overall production. Now, because she was one of the family. This entire enormous psychotic mess had adopted her as -more or less- their new baby.

The latest wrinkle in the entire mess of organised chaos was the fact that Mak’arune had picked up an ‘admirer’. Koko was the first to complain about him, and not about the latest interruption to his nonexistent love life. In fact, he was on Montgomery’s doorstep and looking pissed.

“Hey, Monty…”

“Your last potential paramour was almost old enough to be your grandfather.”

“Not about him,” said Koko. “I got it. Even though he was a total silver fox. Anyway. Y’know Rellian Danto?”

“I’m aware of his existence…”

“Total scumfuck. He’s already tryin’ to get Mak’arune to buy him his own caravan.” Koko had a tray of a more sumptuous breakfast

“Convincing her of this is the problem,” said Montgomery. “It always is. I’ll have a quiet chat with the man.”

“Good,” said Koko.

Montgomery took his breakfast with him, to observe the scumfuck in action. The dude looked like a perfectly respectable Humanman, but he had had to get his sumptuous clothes from somewhere and he’d had a sob story just ready to roll. In fact, he’d had several.

Danto had his hands around Mak’arune’s. As Montgomery moved closer, he could hear some of the wheedling.

“All I’m saying is that we deserve a nicer space. You’ve seen the brochures I handed you, aren’t they beautiful homes? Don’t you want us to have a home together?”

“I have. I do,” Mak’arune  was looking more than a little pressed. “They’re just so enormous. We couldn’t keep up with the circus.”

“Who says we have to? We can stick to wider roads and catch them up in the bigger towns. That way you can work on your best material away from all the distractions.” A gesture he made took in the entire rest of the circus as ‘distractions’. “It’ll be just you and me and the safer roads in a home just right for the both of us.”

Translation: He was isolating her and readying her to absorb more poison as it dripped from his lips to her pointed ears.

Fortunately, Mak had a good memory. “You need your sleep. There wouldn’t be much time for me to use my sewing machine on everything. And I know you love using my buttons on your look. I don’t think–”

Danto went from lovingly fawning to furious rage in instants. “You don’t think,” he interrupted. “You never think! You stupid bitch, I’m doing this for you, you ungrateful cow! You’re lucky I don’t smash your idiot head in and see if anyone can tell the difference.”

Montgomery was up behind him so silently, just in the right moment. “And you’re lucky I don’t test my poison on you for threatening my staff.” He loomed half a foot taller than Danto, hood flared and fangs visible.

He acted like all Human weasels caught in the act of being completely vile, using three of the four D’s: Deny, Delay, Distract, and the final, unused Decamp. “Hahaha,” he laughed. “That’s a little affectionate joke between us. Is that a breakfast by the twins? How about you get us some, honey?”

Mak’arune said, “Just yesterday you told me they only cooked slop and you wanted me to make all your dinners…”

“I’d like to understand the meaning of this joke,” said Montgomery. “Miss Mak’arune, do you have one?”

Mak’arune shook her head.

The twins appeared out of nowhere, freshly made up and ready for a show on the trapeze. “Explain it to us,” they said.

“And then explain why you hit on a minor,” added Lulu. She was distinguishable from Koko because of the peplum on her leotard and the absence of full-length gloves. They both had their goggles off and showing their witch eyes. Lulu briefly told Mak’arune, “He totally groped me and said I’d look better in a red dress.”

“That was one of the things you told me,” said Mak’arune.

“Listen,” said Danto, “I’m a nice guy… but you people are a whole bunch of untrustworthy bastards. Especially you two pieces of gutter trash shit.” He pointed out the twins. “If this universe was just, you’d have died in the cradle.”

Mak’arune gasped. It was not her upset gasp that proceeded so many fountains of tears, but a gasp of anger. They had seen Mak’arune upset. They had seen her weep and howl in despair. They had never seen her fury.

“Rellian Virtue Danto, how dare you! These poor babies have been through seven kinds of hell in their lives and they need patience, care, and understanding! You do not speak of children like that if you want to have any hint of my favour in the future at all!”

This was the last thing he expected. He thought he had Mak’arune completely gulled. Nevertheless, he attempted to distract from the causal event. “They look like adults, especially dressed like that. How’s a man supposed to know they’re kids? You look like a kid. The blue bitch looks like a kid. Even your grown-ass magic act looks like a kid and he has a kid.”

“That ‘blue bitch’,” iced Mak’arune, “is my best friend.”

La’ming would be interestingly shocked to learn that. Montgomery covered his shock at learning the exact same thing by remaining on topic. “I heard you tell a joke. I would like to know what’s so funny about dashing someone’s brains in.”

Danto ran through the only gap between the people surrounding him. He did not stop anywhere in camp. He didn’t stop anywhere outside of camp, either.

“Just as a hint,” said Lulu. “The more often someone tells you they’re nice, the less likely they are to actually be nice.”

“Think about it,” said Koko. “How often do you tell people you’re nice?”

“I… don’t… have to…” she said, light dawning.

Montgomery let his hood fall and his fangs retreat. “Good. Lulu… Koko. You’re on in ten. Let’s make it a great show. Miss Mak’arune… I think some calming work for you before lunch? We don’t want your excellent stitching to suffer from the actions of one asshole.”

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 6]

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[AN: Aaawww, bless. May the clerical errors in your favour remain perpetually unnoticed]

It began in the dark, with Lucretia noticing Taako paying more attention to Angus McDonald than she expected. Taako was so much colder and more aloof from any social contact than she was used to. Of course he was. He was now in a state where he believed he had never had anyone or anything he could rely on.

Yet there he was, feeling the brow of Angus McDonald and looking concerned in the darkness of the theatre.

She leaned back and employed ESL[1] to ask without disturbing anyone else, Everything okay?

Taako also leaned back so he could sign, Thought sickness. Boy(mine) taught not purr.

Oh shit. Oh shit, that was bad. Xenophobists of all kinds used all kinds of cruelties to teach halfbreeds to avoid any behaviour of their ‘bad’ half. Taako’s very abbreviated grammar meant that he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but… She had to get involved.

This is bad, she signed to him. Bad for head, bad for health, bad for him all through.

No duh, signed Taako. Me easy hate humans about this. He still wanted to keep this low-key. Lucretia could understand.

We should talk to him. We should teach him.

Taako signed,  You can, in a dismissive way. He noticed the way she stared at him and added, Don’t look at me in that tone of voice.

Lucretia signed, You know the most about being Elven. You’re already teaching him magic. Why not teach him about himself?

Not my kid, his fingers said. The rest of his body telegraphed that that was a blatant lie. But only to those who’d known him for a century or more.

Lucretia couldn’t call him out on his bullshit based on that aspect of her past, though. She could sign, Not what you said a minute ago.

Now it was his turn to glare at her. He knew he’d claimed ownership with the brevity signs he initially used. Such were the subtleties of ESL. He fumed for a while and signed, Not son. Apprentice.

Lucretia signed her acquiescence. An economical gesture that meant, As you will. She kept her suspicion to herself. Even now, with the damage she’d done, Taako was wont to form bonds with others. Especially others who were abandoned, forlorn, or simply without everything they may clearly deserve.

In other words, waifs, strays, bastards, and broken people. Angus qualified on two counts and now counted for a third.

She signed, We must discuss this with him.

Taako added, After scroll. Child(mine) needs small fun.

Not his kid, her aunt Fanny. All of Taako’s denials were pure, unadulterated, horseshit. He might as well have adopted the kid outright, but wouldn’t because it would harm ‘his brand’. Maybe when all the fuss was over, there might be the hope of Taako actually giving Angus a good home.

*

She checked up on them for their first Elf Practice. IN Angus’ favourite reading nook, in a pile of pillows, Taako was dozing and purring in a sunbeam with Angus propped up against Taako’s middle.

She could hear Angus clear across the library. That was some ‘engine’ he had going. Lucretia readied a speech about being impressed with Taako’s teaching capacity as she crept closer.

As she approached, maintaining a quiet tread, she noticed several clues. The aroma of hot chocolate, the way Angus preferred to have it. A few remaining sweet curd cakes, laying neglected on a nearby plate. The place where they lay, right in a sunbeam, had all the pillows arranged for maximum comfort.

Under the thunder of Angus’ purr, Taakos’ ran almost a counterpoint. Soft and soothing and continuous with his breathing.

His purr said more than any of his most of his lies ever could. He was, indeed, feeling parental towards Angus. How that would play out given his voidfish scars could be… problematic. She would be keeping a watchful eye out on them, simply because of that.

Taako’s uppermost ear flicked and a hand moved to lazily sign, Bug off.

Lucretia involuntarily signed, Peace, despite the fact that Taako wouldn’t see it. She whispered, “Lessons going well?”

Angus’ eyes were open. Watching her intently, as he watched everything intently. His hands moved. In forms and shapes coherent with ESL. We’re doing fine, ma’am. I’m looking forward to more lessons, later.

Lucretia had to roll a will save not to freak out.

[1] Elven Sign Language

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 7]

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It was a very strange thing to wake up and discover that you’re a parent to twins. Especially twins who were practically adults and well capable of looking after themselves.

Not that any of that mattered. Luume-influenced family bonding was a permanent biological compulsion to care for and after anything her Luume-addled mind had classed as a ‘baby’.

Which meant any creature under the age classification of ‘of age’.

Which, in this case, meant that portions of her instincts now classed the twins Lulu and Koko as ‘her babies’. She felt compelled to check that they were eating well, enough, and regularly. She gathered books for them to read that might expand their education. She stocked up on herbal ingredients that could be used for medicinal simples and even brewed up a few.

The circus’ medical cart had never been so well-stocked, even if it was well-stocked with Elven remedies. And more than a few bundles of herbs.

She stopped in at their caravan every evening to be sure they were tucked in and felt safe. They’d been through too much with Saint Vingo’s and the mess afterwards. They needed a gentle and caring hand.

La’ming had, on more than one occasion, sat watch on their doorstep. Protecting her babies from unknown evils in the dark. She worried about them. They slept instead of meditating because they didn’t feel safe. she couldn’t help them. She couldn’t make them feel safe.

She hadn’t, before. Now that she couldn’t… it worried her.

There were even nights that she played soothing music for them on her wooden flute. To let them know that she was standing watch and guarding them from any possible danger.

She couldn’t guard them from everything. That really worried her.

Hence, why she was following them around on their foraging trip that day.

“We’ve done this like a billion times, La’ming,” complained Lulu.

“Ye-es. I know that. It’s just… Aunt Irma’s driving me nuts.”

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” mocked Koko from somewhere in the shrubbery. He emerged with an apron full of weird berries.

La’ming knew one thing about strange berries - high danger of them being poisonous. “You’re not planning to eat those, are you?”

Koko’s face was an open book with large print that said, Bitch, please. “These are Lapiswort. I’m dying my hair.”

Lulu laughed out, “What?”

“I’m sick of being asked if I’m the girl one, so after this, they should be able to fuckin’ tell.”

“I have experience with dyes and dying hair,” said La’ming, rather desperate for something she could actually do to help her seventy-six-year-old babies. “I could help make sure it’s even and everything.”

Which lead to a long afternoon of washing, treating, and binding Koko’s hair in a plastering of a preparation of Lapiswort and alum, then coating it with leather until it set.

The next day, Koko’s hair was a vibrant and resplendent blue. Which - unfortunately for his romantic hopes - failed completely to win Kustaad’s attention at all.

Koko was right. The dye job did deflect the questions. For the week that they were entertaining Crossconnect Vale. After that, it started to fade to green as Koko’s natural golden colour began to literally shine through.

By then, they both sort of tolerated La’ming’s attempts to mother them. Most of the time.

“You are not going out in camp dressed like that, young lady.”

“Why? You’re running around in your undies and sleep slip.”

“We can totally see your boobs through that thing,” added Koko.

“And put away that pipe for today, thanks.”

Koko didn’t. “You do worse on the daily. Why should we even try to listen to you?”

*

Borstok, watching the show with Montgomery, leaned over to his boss and murmured, “It’s like watching a vodka or a wine aunt trying to parent angry teenagers.”

Montgomery had to agree. They were all hopeless at it. Exandria was probably going to chew him out for letting it happen, but… the entire circus had never had such ready entertainment on the daily.

“Shouldn’t you step in?” prompted Borstok in a rare display of competence.

“I’ll be the dad when they need me and not before. My job is keeping Miss Mak’arune from making it all explode again.” To damn Mak’arune with faint praise, she meant well and had the very best of intentions. She was also an enormous wet hen and prone to tears at the least provocation.

Borstok shrugged and said, “Fair ‘nuff.”

La’ming was taking ten deep breaths, attempting to come up with something rational. Not her forté. “Listen,” she said. “My life… is already a train wreck. I’m trying my hardest to stop yours from ending up that way too. Okay? You want I should dress better on my days off - help me out. You want me to cut down on the interesting herbology… help me out. Meanwhile i’m trying to help you out by preventing some of the huge mistakes I’ve made. Is that a deal?”

Lulu looked to Koko, who used Prestidigitation to put out his tiny clay pipe. He packed it away in his vest. “We’re stuck with you anyways. Might as well get you to wear a decent fucking nightie.”

Lulu added. “When you get down to it, ‘lion’s not as bad as some of the shit out there. It’s free and not that addictive.”

“Sure,” said La’ming, “you could quit it any time…”

They all glared at each other like cats. “I stay off the pipe for a week, you wean yourself off of those interesting shrooms you’re on half the time.”

“Deal,” said La’ming. “And I’m putting on a khaftan, too.”

It was a rocky start, but at least it was a start.

[TAZ Prompts remaining: 6]

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It should have been a peaceful trip between towns. The circus train of wagons was pretty much halfway between one fairly large city and another. It was a nice morning. The sky promised to be clear, the twins were already cooking an astonishing amount of food for everyone.

They were eighty percent through their usual morning argument, something nobody else could understand because they conducted it in their own personal language. From what Mak’arune could tell, they were still at a draw.

She was making her own kind of progress, in that she took anything the twins had to say with a healthy dose of salt. Once she realised they were pulling her leg about having a triplet, she stopped believing just everything they had to tell her.

She had even found out that Ms Ton was not the keeper of the Mermaid, but also the Mermaid herself. That had been her own erroneous assumption. More fool her. The fact that nobody had corrected her was a grey zone, though.

Everyone was out and about. Having their meals, enjoying the twins’ show, or waiting in a patient line for the next dish to come out of the chuck wagon. Some were washing dishes in an effort to be helpful. Some were washing clothes before they packed up to move on that day.

Mak’arune knew most of them by name and all of them by face. Every possible race in Faerune, every possible colour and creed. Well. All colours but one. Mak’arune missed spotting La’ming. Her familiar blue skin and lack of decent clothing were conspicuous by their absence.

Therefore, after she had her own, light breakfast, she secured a plate for La’ming and travelled the short distance between the chuck wagon and La’ming’s little caravan. She must have had a little more than usual to drink and was feeling poorly.

The door was unlatched, and when she crept in, the inside was more of a mess than usual. La’ming, still in her nightwear of a see-through half-shift and a pair of underpants, had been turning the place upside down. She looked… oh dear. She looked haggard, flushed, distracted, and distant.

“Are you all right?”

“Want…” said La’ming. Her pupils were so dilated that her eyes looked black. “…want…”

Oh dear. It was Luume’irma. The curse of Elven kind. In a few more hours, La’ming might well make a plague of herself on everyone else in the circus. She had to spare them, and her… co-worker… from such wanton display.

Mak’arune offered up the bowl. “Eat,” she said. “I’ll look after you.” Well. She hoped she could. Her own Luume episodes were light and she could willingly shut herself off from the rest of the world for the twenty-four hours in which she was -ahem- in an unseemly condition. Thank goodness it was only one day out of eight years. The rest of the time, she was perfectly capable of behaving herself.

As La’ming ate, Mak’arune scrawled a hasty message on a piece of card. Not her neatest handwriting. Quarantine! DO NOT ENTER, and then pinned it to the outside of the door before latching it as firmly shut as she could get.

La’ming - what was left of La’ming - was a bit rowdier than Mak’arune ever was. She had finished her food and was sniffing Mak’arune with evident fascination. Getting right up in there.

“Nice,” said La’ming. “Want.”

“Yes, dear,” cooed Mak’arune, reaching for the soft patches behind La’ming’s ears. “I’ve got you.” She’d only read about how to do this, and only half-remembered the method, but it seemed to be working. The full-blood Sea Elf in her arms was looking drowsy and contented.

Maybe that would suffice.

*

Lulu was on Lollygagger duty, making sure no performer, performer’s wagon, nor any camp shit was left behind. The most conspicuous offender was La’ming. She must have tied one on, last night. Lulu whacked the side of the caravan with a big stick. “Wakey-wakey, ocean princess! We gotta roll if we wanna be in the next campground by sunset!”

Silence there, and nothing more.

A hastily-scrawled note on the caravan door provided something of an answer. But also more questions.

Quarantine! DO NOT ENTER

Lulu clambered up to an unshuttered window. She intended to say, “Hey, you want someone to tow you?” but she didn’t get much further than, “Hey, you wanna–”

La’ming pounced, cooing, “Baby….” and dragged Lulu inside in one swoop.

*

Koko was officially worried. He knew Lulu could handle herself, but… She never took this long to get people going. It was unnervingly unlike her. He chased around the camp as various carts and wagons got on the road, asking after his sister.

Eventually, the trail lead to La’ming’s wagon, in which an argument seemed to be going on.

“Let me out!” That was Lulu! Koko picked up the pace.

“My baby…” La’ming? Had she done mushrooms or something?

“No, no, dear, the baby wants some air. Let her loose.” Oh great. Mak’arune was tied up in all of this. Which meant that it was all two steps away from absolute disaster.

Koko clambered up to the open window and said, “Can you three stop dicking arou–ooop!”

La’ming pulled him in with a gleeful cry of, “Baby…”

Koko struggled like a cat trapped in a running shower stall. “Whoa, what the shit? I’m not a baby, we’re seventy-two.”

“Baby. Babies. My babies.” La’ming wasn’t listening. Gripping them both close to her body and snuggling like their lives depended on it.

Mak’arune was frantically alternating between ear massage and attempting to pry the twins out of La’ming’s arms.

Koko would never admit how ashamed he was that he felt worlds better for all the pseudo-parental attention. Lulu, held fast in the opposite arm, glared at him with her Ultimate Don’t Tell Death Glare. She must have been feeling the same hunger-for-affection that he had. “It’s Luume’irma,” she announced.

“Aw dunk,” muttered Koko. He just relaxed and let La’ming snuggle, coo, and kiss.

At which point Monty turned up at the window and it was Lulu’s turn to impersonate a wet cat in a shower stall.

“Monty! Monty get us– mmrff mmf mfftrrl!” her words were muffled because her struggles made La’ming readjust her grip, and therefore La’ming’s elbow was close over Lulu’s mouth.

Mak’arune was busy trying to slacken or break La’ming’s iron grip, actually crying about the disaster as it was unfolding. “Please just let them loose,” she begged.

“Good baby,” La’ming laid yet another kiss on Koko’s cheek.

“…whatever…” mumbled Koko.

That damned snake was smirking.

“Aha. That time of the decade,” he said, and shuttered the windows. After a few more minutes, the wagon started moving. Either piloted by someone or towed by someone else.

There was nothing else to do bu sit there and get attention lavished on them and watch Mak’arune be pants at preventative ear massage.

“You’re doing it wrong, by the way,” he said. “Don’t be scared about a little bit of pressure, and your circles are just a squinch too small…”

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 7]

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