According to the assessment test, Avi managed to wind up on the ‘dumbass’ end of entrants and wound up with the other slow learners in the Academy - the Elves. As far as society was concerned, they were there to fill in some quotas. A few might have been. One was definitely there to prove the entire world wrong.
Her first words to him were, “That’s a violation of uniform code.”
“I never got writ up for it,” he said, taking the last seat, right by her.
“Of course not,” she said. “You’re Human.”
“What?”
Class began, and Avi soon noticed what was happening against literally everyone else in the class. Elves could get write ups for the most minor of infractions, including uniform code, whilst Avi was allowed to skate by without notice. He was always called on first, regardless of whether or not he had his hand raised… and the Elves were always wrong.
It was his first taste of injustice. It would not be his last.
It took a week of written reports, several interviews with the people in charge and, finally, an ‘anonymous’ hidden camera recording released to the media for that teacher to find himself reassigned and a more fair setting to enter the classroom.
By that time, he’d learned his future partner’s name. Snocoun Ton. She was one of the few cadets who worked herself ragged to make it to the top, earning extra points by helping him study, amongst other things.
Rumours whispered that she slept her way to the top of the class, but Avi knew that she’d never had the time. All of her extracurriculars ate every second she had to spare. Though she was valedictorian of her academy class, the higher brass had it that she was ‘on par’ with the average Human in the academy.
“It’s okay,” she said after Avi had finished ranting about the injustice of it all. “I have the time to play the long game.”
She was a hundred and twenty. A fresh-faced young adult by Elven standards. She could afford to spend his entire life working up to the higher echelons of the rank and file.
“Be proud to see you do that,” he said. “I’m in for the ride.”
“That’s career suicide, Burnsides.”
“I never wanted a career,” he said. “I just wanted to help the law be lawful without being an excuse to become a bunch of bullies.”
“That’s a lofty goal for a Humanman,” she noted.
“Aim high or shoot yourself in the foot, Ton.”
She winced. “Don’t… don’t call me that. Please.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not happy with my family name.”
“Shitty family?”
“Nailed it.”
“Okay if I call you ‘Sno’?”
A rare smile took over her usually sour face. “Sno will do. We’re going to get all of the shit. You know that, right?”
Avi grinned. “You know nothing… Ton, Sno.”
“You get away with that once, Burnsides.”
He laughed. “Worth it.”
[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 7]
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Every neighbourhood has a bodega, the corner shops, the convenience store. They have many names, including some brands. Seven-eleven, the IGA, quick-e-mart, shop’n’go… The names change, but the concept remains the same. A little place where anyone living there can walk and gather emergency supplies. Be it a loaf of bread, some ingredients, or the little things that one is always running short of at the last instant. They can be pokey little places with only a handful of shelves, or labyrinthine expanses with claustrophobic confines and items no-one who goes there could ever fathom needing[1].
This evening, just after ten PM, Merle was cat-napping at the counter when one of the regulars came in. One of the Elves who lived around the corner and down the street a bit. She made a beeline for the tourist spot, where clothes claiming the bearer loved Neverwinter despite any evidence to the contrary.
Long experience with this neighbourhood had ensured that this particular bodega stocked pants and skirts as well. They were one-size-fits-most atrocities that owed most of their construction to pull cords. There had been many instances in Neverwinter of the hardy perennial street loonie who managed to misplace all of their clothing before having some kind of loud and public wobbler long about three in the morning.
Merle got most of his business from the average naked creature who happened to be tripping balls. You didn’t have to be crazy to choose a pair of those pants, but it certainly helped. Therefore it was slightly odd to see the relatively sane Sea Elf grab two (size med-to-small) and two I (heart) NW shirts (small), stuffing them into her basket before scouring through areas she had never gone into before.
Merle watched through a mixture of the camera feeds and the special mirrors around the shop as she seized two stuffed toys, a misshapen unicorn and some kind of bizarre purple cow-hippo hybrid. A couple of Little Golden books, some terrible off-brand action figures. Then she stopped at some of the pre-packaged foods.
“Hey Merle… you have kids, right?”
“Technically. They’re off with their mom. I don’t get ‘em until the weekend.”
“Six-year-olds don’t need baby food, right?”
“Yeah, they all have all their teeth by then. They can chew.”
“Uhuh. So… what should I get like… two of them?”
Merle was dimly aware that she had family in distant areas. “You got some little niblings?”
“No. I found a coupl’a babies in the trash.”
Okay. Maybe it was time to hit the silent alarm. Merle decided to humour her and see if it went into dangerous turf. “Who’d throw away perfectly good babies?”
“Exactly my thoughts,” she said. “Dino-chicken nuggets should be fine, right? Are tater tots a vegetable or should I try these bubble-and-squeak thingies?”
“Never had a kid turn down the nugs,” said Merle. “As for vegetables… it’s hit or miss… most usually go for the mint peas, though. Sweet corn. If they only eat potato, go for the sweet potato. That has more vitamins.”
“I don’t think these ones are too picky.” she got a frozen vegetable medly. Handed over a hundred-dollar bill, and scooted off with her bag of supplies into the night.
Say what you like about the loonies, most of them were generous tippers.
*
Two weeks later, he got to meet them. One was clutching the binicorn plushie from that night. Both wore enormous sunglasses, and had their golden hair up in identical braids.
“Okay,” said La’ming. “You don’t like what I got? Go look for yourselves. I got a budget, so stick to the limits, okay?”
The one without the binicorn had the I (heart) NW shirt. On them, it was almost a dress. Six-year-old Elves were nauseatingly cute.
“Ah,” said Merle. “They’re real. Colour me surprised.” He watched as the twins made a bee-line for the fresh produce, each with a basket and a state of terrifying glee.
“What? You thought I slipped my gourd?” teased La’ming.
“Eh. I might’a supplied the weeds dispensary down a coupl’a block some dodgy dandelions. Accidentally planted ‘em in the Psilocybin mycelium. I got a few complaints.”
“I don’t need ‘lion.”
“Yeah every Elf says that. I don’t need Dreamroot, until my sciatica acts up or I can’t sleep or… y’know. I actually need it.”
“Long as you keep your fumes to yourself, we’re fine,” said La’ming.
“Shit yeah! Real garlic!”
“If you’re gettin’ garlic, I’m gettin’ peppers!”
La’ming journeyed into the back shelves, “Whoop. Better stop it before they have a big fight.”
These two preferred fresh ingredients. Fresher than the stuff-in-a-box she used to eat. Judging by the way the kids were plotting, they knew a lot about cookery and were teaching their adult minder.
Well. Good for them.
It wasn’t every day that people found the families that were best for them.
[1] It can’t be helped, some of these tiny little shops seem to stock gimcrack from other dimensions, like left-handed kerning sponges, or hand-cranked doormouse stuffers. They are the most common source of terribly off-model and off-brand toy merchandise. In some other reality, that’s the way it actually was.
[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 8]
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The entire Precinct called her Officer Sno. Some within it called her “The Cold Front” when they thought she couldn’t hear them and that was just fine, actually. She didn’t need those assholes getting into her life and discovering things. The only one who knew all of the truth was Avi, and he kept things to himself.
It was Avi who had found the twins again. She’d been concerned about them. Poor little tykes. They’d been dealt a bad hand. Absentee father who was so superstitious that the shrink he was visiting insisted he wasn’t ready to be an adult, let alone a decent parent. Their mother had died of a horrible infection and her sister had perished of allegedly unrelated heart problems not long after.
Following that, it was a series of terrible fostering attempts on the Starlight side of the family, and then… then they’d run away.
Considering that their last accommodations had been a plastic playhouse in the backyard, Sno didn’t blame them. Anything could have happened to them in the year between their last known residence and this latest sighting… in the same apartment building as her partner. Two floors up and across the hallway.
With another familiar name.
La’ming Ton.
Sno’s genetic mother. At least this time, she was an official adult and allegedly putting her life together. Though her finances were stable, they came to her bank account through a convoluted system of anonymised transfers that meant her income was one not entirely smiled upon by society at large. Sno had to calculate La’ming’s age.
If I’m a hundred and forty, she’s two hundred and eleven. Seventy-one years between mother and child. Gamgam and Peepums had always blamed La’ming’s youthful parenthood on her. They’d called it a scandal. Sno had spent eighty years believing that before she asked, What about the two hundred-year-old guy who fathered me?
He had sailed through his life without any kind of consequence or expectations towards assisting in the daughter he’d made.
Enough about him.
This was about two other babies left without a family. Now in the alleged care of someone who should -according to Gamgam and Peepums- never have one. Sno had to be certain that La’ming wasn’t letting them play with rat poison or keeping them in the bathtub or something.
That was why she was here. Knocking on her mother’s door. Crisp and Severe in the Neverwinter PD uniform.
Thundering footsteps. The door swung wide open.
Two nearly-identical faces, each with mismatched eyes, stared up at her. Clean faces, good. New clothes, better. Screaming blue murder and slamming the door… nope.
The Taaco twins were the ones screaming, “IT’S A RAID! IT’S A RAID! GO! GO! GO! GO!”
What. The. Shit? Sno knocked a little more forcefully.
When La’ming opened the door, she said, “What the hell did you do to those babies?” Then she realised who she was talking to. “Nono?”
“Snocoun,” she said.
Somewhere in the distance, one of the twins yelled, “It’s the Blue Wave! Gittouttahere!”
“You look… You look amazing.”
“This is not a familial visit,” said Sno. “I’m here on CPS business.” The flat had fallen ominously silent. “Those twins are missing minors and it’s my duty to see to it that they’re safely housed in appropriate accommodations.” She didn’t need permission to enter while children were at risk and La’ming didn’t stop her.
The flat was tidy. Clean. Middle-of-the-road thrift furniture, some shabby chic going on. Books and toys appropriate for minors scattered around. Tolerable. The CPS would give this a grudging pass.
Sno knew for a fact that her grandparents had stopped sending private eyes after her mother when La’ming had a decent enough income to afford rent at this flat and a modicum of furniture.
All the fun of it had gone out when they could no longer let Sno find photographs of the dives in which La’ming was staying. Realising that they thrived off of La’ming’s screw ups was Sno’s first piece of detective work.
Working out that La’ming had illegally adopted these kids wasn’t even enough to work up a sweat.
“So,” Sno picked up a copy of The Tubby Little Puppy and paged through it. “Why them?”
“And not you?” said La’ming. “We both remember that phone call a month before your Seventy-first birthday. You know why not you.”
Because an Elf’s Seventies were the most chaotic, disorganised, misunderstood years of their lives. Perhaps worse than the Terrible Twenties, when the lifespan differentials really started to stick out. Seventy was when a young Elf was handled all of the expectation and none of the respect. Treated like children, expected to react like adults, given choices that could reflect on their entire lives…
And her mother had gone into a terribly early Luume and got pregnant by a man who should have known, acted, and done better…
“Just ‘why them’… mother.”
La’ming fussed around in the kitchen, making tea. She had fresh fruit, and honey in a jar instead of a sugar pot. Fresh vegetables in the fridge, too. “They were living in a cardboard box next to the dumpster. That asshole kid in five B had just chucked some garbage bag down and konked out Koko. Lulu was crying, she… she was acting like her world was ending. I remember that feeling. Too well.”
The night she’s left baby Nono at her parents’ place, she’d said, was the worst night of her life. The entire two years of being underage, pregnant, and then a parent had been two years of the worst days of her life… but that day. That day topped them all. The worst of the worst.
“He,” corrected Sno. “They’re both boys.”
“Lulu says different.”
Oh shit… Sno re-evaluated everything, including why certain foster homes had felt it necessary to ‘drive the devil’ out of the twins. It wasn’t just lingering superstition about heterochromia or ‘witch eyes’. It was lingering transphobia whenever Lulu tried to tell anyone who she really was.
No wonder living on the streets was preferable to being in the system.
“The good news is that that counts as extenuating circumstances,” said Sno. “I can force some paperwork through and get you registered as a sympathetic foster house inside of a month.”
“Great. Now all we have to do is talk two scared babies out of Mak’arune’s place. They’ve probably battened down all the hatches by now. What did you even do to them?”
They’s been three when their mother died, and didn’t understand that the dead body she carried them away from would never wake up. They weren’t much older when their aunt had perished, too. Time and time again, she was on duty to take them away from places where they insisted they were doing okay in. Time and time again, she took them away from family.
“It’s my bad luck to have been on duty every single time they’ve had to be taken away from a situation.”
La’ming handed over the tea. Had some herself. “Right. So they think you’re going to arrest me.”
“I wish…”
La’ming glared at her.
“…sometimes.”
“Fair enough. We’ve all been through shit. Anyway, talking them down from whatever disaster scenario they’ve leaped to. Koko’s really good at those. Scarily accurate for six.”
Six. Shit. They were twice the age they’d been when their birth mother died. Once again, perspective swirled for her. More than the dizzying realisation that she was twice the age her mother had been when… and there was still that sense of anticipating a disaster from Gamgam and Peepums.
Drinking tea gave the twins time to realise that the usual chaos of Sno’s visits wasn’t happening. Therefore Sno drank tea. In silence, because smalltalk with her mother inevitably ended up in an argument.
Then, after the tea was done and the cups were rinsed, it was downstairs to 2D, where Mak’arune made hats for Etsy and babysat the twins when La’ming was working online.
La’ming had to show the twins that she was okay, she was not being arrested, and that Officer Sno -the ‘Blue Wave’ who washed away their lives- was not going to sweep through and turn the world upside down.
The news that Officer Sno was their sister… that just about worked as enough topsy-turvy for these kids. But that was life. Awkward, complicated, and too weird to believe if it were set into fiction. Messy, too.
La’ming’s higher-paying customers were no longer paying for La’ming’s correspondence courses. That money was going to Lulu’s transition fund. The spell to change her body to match her mind and soul was not cheap, nor were the experts who would be working it.
Like it or not, La’ming Ton was working on being a better mother than she had been a literal lifetime ago. That was why Sno chose to help her out.
[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 8]
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Lulu never liked it when Koko cried. He[1] always wanted to make people cry if they made his brother cry, they deserved to be crying too. Except this time, Lulu couldn’t work out why Koko was crying.
“Roshi was playin’ Sticks an’ Stones,” said Lulu. “Everyone plays it.”
Koko sniffled and wiped his face. “Roshi said… don’ play with ‘er no more,” sob, gulp. “She said we’re bad. She wasn’ playing… she said go ‘way forever…”
Lulu helped his brother to his feet, helping him limp home. “It’s just Sticks an’ Stones. Like from everyone. We dodge and laugh. ‘S how it goes.”
“…not funny any more,” pouted Koko. “I wanted to catch bugs and lizards with her.”
Mama found them on their way home. She could see if one or both of them were crying from forty yards away. She probably already had, and that was why she was running for them.
Koko wasn’t bruised or bleeding. Neither was Lulu. Mama had them both in her arms anyway, and the whole world could start to feel okay again.
Then he said it. “Mama, why do people always say we’re evil?”
“What?”
Koko took over. “Roshi said her brother said their mom said we’re demons an’ we’re gonna wreck the whole world.” He wiped his face again. “Sticks an’ Stones was never a game…”
Oh. Oh that was why… Poor Koko. He’d worked it out. Lulu had been pretending for months and Koko had worked it out anyway.
Mama had very sad eyes. Sadder than every day. “No. It was never a game. Oh, my loves…” She held them just a little tighter. Picked them up and took them inside and gave them honey cakes. “My dear boys… I love you so much. I wish I didn’t have to tell you but… some people believe that eyes like yours can make curses happen.”
Mama’s eyes were amberish-brown. Both of them. Lulu and Koko could easily see that they had one green eye each. It was just how they’d always been. Mama and Aunty Ques and their Uncles Ench and Tortie had never feared them. None of their family had had curses happen.
“That’s silly,” said Lulu. “We don’t make anything bad happen to you or Aunt Ques or Uncle Ench or Uncle Tortie.”
“It is silly. It’s very silly, indeed,” said Mama. “People who believe in witch eyes like yours are… far too silly.” she sighed. “Yet they still believe. Your father left us… because he believed.”
Koko’s fingers tightened on Lulu’s tunic. They remembered that night of shouting and slamming doors, but they’d carried on without him and hardly noticed. As far as the twins were concerned, there were not more nights of shouting and slamming doors. And they got to spend seasons with their aunt and uncles.
“We can’t fix it, can we?” said Koko. “They’re gonna be silly all the time and we can’t run away like father did.”
“No,” said Mama. “We’re stuck here.”
Lulu was very quiet as Koko fed him a honey cake and he fed his brother the other one. There was a lot to think about.
“They want us to give ‘em curses,” Lulu said in Us. He let Mama wash their hands and faces. “I think we should show ‘em what real curses look like.”
Would that he could do so, Lulu would become a one-Elf plague on the little village of Tre Llew-Ddion. If they so much as threw one more thing at them, they’d learn that some curses could land quick.
Koko shrivelled up and hid when hostility came at them. He preferred to run away. Lulu, on the other hand, could be four times as bad as anyone wanted to think they were. He stormed through their little world, daring it to challenge them. Aiming magic missiles or other cantrips at anyone who tried to give them trouble.
Unfortunately for Lulu’s aspirations to punish the entire world for being silly, the twins were only six. The grownups around them had far better magics, far stronger abilities, and far quicker reflexes than a pair of little kids.
[1] They’re six. Lulu hasn’t worked out who she is yet.
[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 6]
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Her babies were off researching very clever stuff over at IPRE, competing with other people in the IPRE for some posting on a two-month mission into the greater beyond. La’ming wished them luck. They needed a good adventure on their own. Her concern was with one of their past misadventures.
One of Lup’s past misadventures named Greg Grimaldis. He was one of the rare few scum-sucking user assholes who had successfully passed all their paranoid inspections to later betray the whole family.
On the surface, it was a simple matter of fifteen dollars. Not only was it the principal of the thing, but it was also one of Lup’s special fifteen dollar bills. The one success she’d needed to fund the thinnest of their college years. It should have gone back to La’ming and Mak’arune, but Greg Grimaldis had left her with a very clever fake.
He was now using the original to fund his entrepreneurial ventures, having dropped out of the IPRE the second he got what he was really after. And here she’d been thinking he was simply out to procure sex. Now she was thinking of ways to get past Grimaldis’ increasingly convoluted security measures.
Fifteen dollars a day, every day, added up to quite the tidy fortune.
She did not intend for it to add up for him for very much longer.
A combination of clever spellwork and superior stealth got her into his offices, and ransacking them for the bill proved fruitless.
“You really think I’d leave it somewhere like a doofus?” he said.
La’ming stood from her former, covert huddle. “Grimaldis.”
“Ton,” he smirked in that oily way she had hated from day one. “Small surprise I’d find you in here. Looking for something… special.”
“You have something that isn’t yours. I’m simply retrieving it for the person you stole it from.”
“Prove its hers and I report her for forgery. She’ll get kicked out of that fancy-schmancy gig they got going. Think she’d love you after that?”
He had to have it on his person. Somewhere. Good thing Taako had taught her how to rob someone blind without them knowing it. La’ming turned on the charm. Smiling seductively. Edging closer.
“Now, now, Mr Grimaldis… can I call you Greg?” she didn’t wait for permission. “Greg… we’re both beings of the world. I’m certain we can come to… some form of understanding.”
He grinned and moved beyond her reach. “Nice try, but you told me to fuck off in no uncertain terms at every given opportunity. I don’t think you’d betray your little wife like that. She is prone to cry.”
Damnit… La’ming sighed. “You should also know that this isn’t over. You’ve angered a very talented family. We’ll get that fifteen dollars away from you one way or another.”
“Any more threats, Mrs Ton, and I might have to call in my boys,” he cooed.
She left while things were still civil.
*
Of all the things she regretted, La’ming regretted not being able to tell the twins about their new brother. He’d been adopted at age seven in another fit of Luume and didn’t seem to mind having two Elven moms doting on his general welfare.
They taught him everything he needed to know.
Low cunning, high strategies, and being able to play the fool at a virtuoso level. Terry was almost as good as the twins and their mothers put together. He’d even counted on his older sister to figure out a way to try and procure it herself.
Sorry, Lulu. The circus needs that fifteen dollars more than you need to destroy it.
La’ming waited, watching what she could from hacks she had made in the Grimaldis Casino security systems. Her twins were very good at this, avoiding many pitfalls along the way. They were so close to taking it with them…
Then everything cut off. A pre-recorded image of Old Blue-Eyes was glaring in her general direction.
“Of course you’re up to something, La’ming Ton,” he said. “Try it again and I’ll destroy everything you ever loved. Starting with Turkey Boy.”
He knew!
“Yeah, I know he’s yours. The interesting thing is going to be whether I fire him or kill him. Guess we’ll see how much a rich man can get away with murder.”
*
Terry kept the bill safe and himself financed all the way to Varmvale, where a neat little cottage rested by a barn made to shelter a moderately-sized traveller’s caravan. The original note was safely hidden and he had an easy way to tell the original from the dupicates that sprang forth once a day.
His step was lighter on the way to that little cottage. His smile wider as he walked up the path towards the pretty little gate and the neat little fence. “Mo-oms… I’m ho-o-ome!"
Two Elven figures, one blue, and one pale, rushed towards him from their former places in maintaining and keeping their winter home. One was half-Elven, but that didn’t matter when family was on the table. They scooped Terry up in their arms and covered him in kisses and there was more than one pair of eyes that got a little moist.
"Any trouble?” said the blue one, known to the world as La'Ming Ton, Fushi Mermaid.
“You were right about the twins turning up,” said Terry, letting Mak'arune Ton add a bobble hat to his ensemble. “Mom, it isn’t that cold. Give over…”
“You need to stay warm, baby. Did they make more trouble for you?"
"No, your scrying was right on the button. I gave them the wand and they bought it hook, line and sinker. I could tell Lup was gonna be pissed, though."
"She’ll get over it. How’d they get back into this dimension? I never saw that part."
"Special belts. Which means we might be in for trouble when they recharge."
La'ming grinned. "I think they’ll forgive us. Meanwhile, it can help fill out the Bail Fund."
Terry let himself inside to warm by the fire and started to relax after he handed over the fateful bill. "Grimaldis was a piece of work, though. I almost didn’t make it in.”
“Yeah. We tried to warn your sister, but…” Mak'arune shrugged. “You just can’t warn people sometimes.”
[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 8]
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Killian never thought she’d miss the time when the twins were too scared and doubtful to express themselves. She even remembered the day that they felt comfortable enough about their new home to actually fight in front of her.
Now, however…
“Koko, have you seen my hoodie?”
“Noooo…”
Lulu leaned over the back of the couch to glare at her brother. Who was nice and snug in a slightly-oversized red hoodie and relaxing with a book. “You’re wearing it, aren’t you?”
“Prove it.”
That she did, leaning over and yanking the hoodie off over her brother’s head. “Ha! It has an L on the tag! Mine!”
“That’s the brand, goofus, not your initial! Give it!”
“It’s my brand!”
“Is not!”
“Is too!”
Killian found the other, identical red hoodie hanging innocently in a closet. She brought it over to the burgeoning fight. “You have exactly the same clothes,” she told them. “Look at this. Does it matter whose is whose?”
Two pairs of mismatched eyes glared at her. On one hand, they weren’t afraid of her any more. On the other hand… they weren’t afraid of her any more. “Yes,” they chorused.
“It’s got all my personal warm on it,” argued Koko. “It’s got rarity value now.”
“Got your stink on it,” countered Lulu. “That makes it devalued.”
“We’re twins. We got the same body stink.”
“Not since I got my parts changed.”
“Do not!”
“All right,” Killian headed that one off. “Chill. Both of you.”
“Easy now I’m freezing my niblets off,” complained Koko.
“Learn to retain your own body heat,” sniped Lulu.
“Okay. Give me that.” Killian gestured for the garment of contention. She’d shuffled garments before and each got them to pick one, but that solution was not working in the long term. Therefore, when she had both hoodies, she took them out of the room.
She didn’t give the twins time to get scared, returning with her own red hoodie. She ballooned it over their surprised heads and snugged both shocked little noggins through the neck.
“Now you get to share one hoodie until you can agree on whose is whose,” she said. “No hopping out of there until you get along.”
The hardest part was not laughing at them as realisation dawned that they had to work together to do anything at all.
Killian expected them to settle for the first coat they could grab, each, and thereby escape their situation. But these were the twins. They never did anything halfway. Inside of an hour, the argument about coats was forgotten in favour of becoming some kind of two-headed beastie and making up a reign of terror over their toys.
Well. One way or another, they were getting along…
[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 7]
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La’ming knew something was up when she spotted Koko returning to camp via one of the goat-trails less travelled. Even at a distance, her Elf eyes could see he wasn’t in the greatest shape. Half his braids had come loose and into frizz-balls, making him look like an asymmetrical poodle. The semi-fancy clothes he’d worn out for an evening’s carouse was askew at best and used for improvised medical aid at worst.
He was using his best shirt as a sling.
La’ming gathered some of her better healing herbs and simples as she kept an eye on Koko’s progress. He was a proud kid. He’d only accept help dragging his ass home if he couldn’t do it himself. Thank the gods that Lulu was off on a different mission in a different place with Mak’arune to keep her from setting the entire city on fire.
Next was pretending not to be ready for all of this shit and surprised by his attempted stealthy approach. Late eighties-age Elves were all the same. Ego, ego, ego.
She dropped her pretense at mending when he came into the circle of light cast by her lantern. “Koko! I thought you were out having a night off. Are you hurt?”
He rolled a one on his deception check, not quite straightening up and pretending this was a new look. “No,” he said. “I’m fine…” He attempted to stride and came up short, stifling a grunt of pain.
She couldn’t let this pass. One of her babies was hurting. She got up and cupped his face in her hands Gently, of course. “So why are there bruises all over your face?”
Now his trembling ears drooped. Now he let himself shake a little more. Now he let on that he wasn’t as fighting fine as he was pretending. Yet he still had to fake at being a big man. “Little disagreement. Nothing to be fussed over.”
She scooped him up and let him sit on the step, getting some simples and salves that she ‘just happened’ to have ready on the little shelves by the door. Bandages. Lint. Splints. Enough to hold him until the camp Cleric came back from doing their thing.
“So what was the disagreement, then?”
“I told a dude he was pretty cute and I was available if he wanted and he told me he wasn’t into dudes. With his fists. And five of his friends.”
“Oooch. Yeah, that’d do it.”
“Mmmh.”
She palpated the arm. Yeah. That was a fracture. Not a bad break that had to be reset, thank the gods. Salve. Splint. Winding bandages around his arm. Tight enough to secure but not too tight. “I’m guessing there was some pretty strenuous debate.”
“I would’a had ‘em if that sixth guy hadn’t stepped in with a fucking chair.”
Ow. The desire for vengeance was rising. She’d have to settle for bilking them for everything they had. Later. The fight now was to not cry. Proper sling. See to the cuts and bruises and clean him up in the process. “Then they showed you where they thought you’d have a better time.”
“Pigsty. Yeah. Good thing I bounce, huh?”
She couldn’t take it any more. She dragged him into his arms and wept into his shoulder. “Don’t scare your mom like that, okay? Get out first thing, then see about settling your opinions at a safe distance.”
Slightly whining, “Aw, mo-o-om… it wasn’t that bad…”
“You got hurt,” she sniffled. “Yes it was.”
[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 5]
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[AN: This pic rises from the grave again. For this one, I’m using an AU that @dualityandsuch and I have been calling Little Domestic. Modern With Magic, and something of an age swap since the twins are 5-6 when La’ming informally adopts them. Duality is working on a comic about how La’ming finds the twins. Pester Encourage her to work on it :D Loads of people we know are in the same rough area.]
Kids should enjoy Midsummer. The dressing up, the games, the carnivals all over the place. There was even a circus downtown that she was going to take the twins to, whether or not they managed to crack a smile. This was their first Midsummer Festival with anything approaching a decent family since they were three and a half. La’ming couldn’t figure out why they were grumpy, pouty, and otherwise out of sorts.
It could be being forced to ride in the trolley like babies. Not that La’ming could trust them to stay close and not get lost in the labyrinth of tall shelves and bargains. Her official reason was that small children had to ride in the trolley so they wouldn’t get stepped on by the larger customers. They didn’t protest, knowing that they were tiny, and were otherwise quiet.
And yet…
The more she tried to interest them in the holiday, the more pouty they got. Red-faced and ears down, their answers more clipped and brusque as their trip went on.
She even went as far as imitating that Tabaxi who was always in others’ business all the time. Not a smirk. Not a chuckle. In fact, she even glimpsed the start of some tears.
La’ming dumped her improvised costume into the trolley and took five deep breaths. “Okay,” she said. “If I tell you I have no idea what’s wrong, will one of you tell me what’s biting you?”
Koko opened his mouth, and Lulu elbowed him, commencing an agitated argument in their Twinspeak. La’ming, used to this, piloted the entire mess to a quiet spot in the hardware section and waited it out.
“Any time you’re ready. What do you want?”
Lulu spoke first, this time. “I want it to just be my birthday for a change!”
Koko nodded solemnly. “We’re sick o’ being told we can’t have cake ‘cause of all the candy we get that night.”
“We’re sick of bein’ told we can’t have two birthdays ‘cause of how Koko was born the day after.”
“We’re sick of being told we’re attention hogs.”
“We’re sick of being told we’re lying for more treats.”
La’ming almost hugged them out of their trolley seats. “Oh, babies…” she sighed. “You can have your birthdays this time, but I like dressing up too much to just give up Midsummer like that. Next year? We have Lulu’s birthday and then go have some Midsummer fun. Sound like a de–” she stopped herself in time. “Sound like a good thing?”
Murmuring, this time, then two identical nods from nearly-identical siblings.
“Good. Let’s get you some birthday cakes.” She started cruising in that direction. “Lulu picks the cake for Midsummer, and Koko picks a cake for the day after. Okay?”
“Those cakes are huge!”
“We’ll never eat them all…”
“They’re bigger than we–”
“–are put together!”
La’ming decided not to call them out on speaking in tandem. It could disturb a lot of people, but this time? This time they needed time to be themselves. “It’s not a good birthday unless you make yourself sick,” she said. “Candy. Included.”
While Lulu was looking over the options, Koko lifted a hand. “C’n I…?”
“Yes?”
“C’n I still wear a costume? I like the pretty rainbow dress.”
“It’s your birthdays, you can do whatever you like,” she said.
Koko leaned forwards to whisper in La’ming’s ear. “Lulu likes dresses, too, but people beat her up for it, so she doesn’t say. She doesn’t wanna say she’s a girl.”
Well. That was an interesting little revelation. Having bathed them, she thought they were both boys… evidently not. She whispered back, “Should I call you both girls or just Lulu?”
“I’m fine with being a boy,” said Koko. “Just… don’t be mean about it?”
Lulu heard and punched him. “Shut up, Koko. I can be whatever whenever.”
“Please don’t hit,” La’ming unfurled Lulu’s fist. “Talk it out, okay?”
“I’m a boy. Everyone says,” said Lulu.
“It’s who you say you are that matters,” La’ming petted Lulu’s hair. “Who do you say you are?”
Lulu returned to a sullen sulk. “Won’t.”
Fair enough. “Did you decide on a cake, at least?”
“Want the chocolate one.”
“Please,” coached La’ming.
“…please…”
She picked one out and added it carefully to the cart. “It is your birthday… you can wear anything you like, go see anything you like, or stay in if that’s your fancy. You can even be anyone you like.” She let that settle in while Koko took his time deciding between the gigantic cherry tart or the extravagant strawberry gateau.
Once he was happy with his choice, it was a slow cruise to pick out silly, flashy outfits. Koko lifted his desired rainbow dress right off the rack and pressed it against his skinny little chest. “See? I’m gonna be fabulous for my birthday and yours. So ner.”
Lulu, apparently wanting to be contrary, pointed to a fire lich costume and said, “I want that one!” And, as an afterthought, added, “Please.”
Koko had somehow snagged a ridiculously gaudy wizard hat and half his face was lost under the brim. If it wasn’t for his ears, his whole head might have gone in.
La’ming lifted it up. “I think this one is for grown-up heads, sweetie.”
“I love it anyway,” argued Koko. “Can I please have it for my birthday?” Baby doe eyes. Her only weakness.
Once again, La’ming had to wonder how these two had wound up in a cardboard box by her apartment block’s dumpster. They were just too adorable to deny too much.
[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 7]
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There was something odd about Felman Hollo. Mak’arune couldn’t quite put her finger on it for some time. Then she noticed the man making sweet with Lulu just a minute after he’d smooched Koko farewell.
She dithered about it, wondering if it was better that he made the twins happy, or if he didn’t know he was talking to twins, or… or if he was playing with them both. That was the thing that got her confronting him about his life choices.
“I certainly hope you’re not taking any advantages, Master Hollo,” she began.
“Mister,” he corrected, signalling himself as a man of age making sweet with underage kids. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The twins have been through enough in their lives,” she said, giving him the benefit of the doubt for now. “They don’t need a heartbreak before they come of age.” There. That should be enough information for the intelligent sort.
His forged picture of innocence was completely missed by Mak’arune’s Insight Check. “Twins? I had no idea there were twins… How do you tell them apart?”
Not a word about the maturity gap… Odd. Perhaps he was tackling one problem at the time, though something was amiss about his priorities. “You’ve spent enough time looking into their eyes, I would think.”
He laughed, “More like staring at their assets,” he laughed. “Don’t pretend you haven’t. They’re both gorgeous.”
Euw. Gross. “Do us all a favour and let them down gently. You’ve plainly made a mistake in assuming they’re adults and–”
“There’s no mistake in aiming to be their first,” he said. “It’s an experience they’ll remember for the rest of their lives…”
Double gross! At this point, Mr Pithon, La’ming, and several other circus people stepped out from their places amongst the scenery. Mr Pithon loomed to slightly over eight feet tall while the others cracked their knuckles and made ready with improvised weapons.
Mr Kustaad Paafae made a show of his Orb of Recall. “…no mistake in aiming to be their first,” said the tiny image of Felman Hollo within it. “It’s an experience they’ll remember…” he shut it off.
La’ming had her wand out. “Now before you claim this was all a joke… I cast Zone of Truth!” She actually cast Prestidigitation, since she didn’t have that cantrip, but Hollo would experience a tingle as the sparks flew over him.
He didn’t run an Insight Check. “You want the truth? They look like some pretty sweet ass. I’m gonna be the first one they have and take ‘em for everything they can give, and you can’t stop me!” He pulled out a medallion. “Faerun Intelligence Bureau. I tell the Watch what to do.”
There was a moment of intense silence.
“Not when there’s clear evidence of misconduct,” said La’ming, gesturing to the Orb. “Attacking you might be illegal, but filming you on duty isn’t. Neither is showing local authorities the footage.”
“I can have it transcribed to a scroll in a jiffy,” said Mr Paafae. “My wife has Duplicate. I’m sure you know what that means.”
“I can pay you…”
“Never enough,” said Borstok. “Never. Ever. Enough.”
Mak’arune remembered that she had Shocking Touch, and let sparks of lightning play between her fingertips as a warning.
Hollo ran. He did not return.
Mr Pithon relaxed down to a more comfortable six feet in height. “Miss Mak’arune? Ms Ton? I trust you know this means you’re on mop-up duty.”
“We were going to do it anyway,” said La’ming. “They’re my babies.”
“And I’m rather fond of them,” added Mak’arune. The twins would realise in maybe three more days. Plenty enough time to seed their love-addled minds with hints of the bad news.
Maybe even get them to realise they’d nearly been had.
[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 8]
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Even the twins, fantastic at digging up dirt, couldn’t find anything wrong with Beige Blandish. No skeletons in the closet, no dark secrets. No hideous family lurking in the wings. No racism, no biases, no assumptions, no profiling, no hurtful vices.
Also, nothing interesting about him. His hobby was making miniature flowers out of pencil shavings. He coloured them with watercolours. He was a chartered accountant.[1] He was perfectly nice. Which was pretty much all that could be said about him.
Put together, a man like Beige Blandish was a nil-all win. Everyone agreed that the twins needed someone to temper their reckless spirits - except the twins. Having a decent male role model might even help them out a bit.
Which was why Mak’arune was crying. She told herself that it was natural to cry at weddings. People did it all the time. She could do all this, arranging the venue, the flowers, the dress… because she was very fond of Ms La’ming Ton and would do literally anything to see her happy.
Koko was ring-bearer, walking in pace beside Blandish and looking like he’d rather be spitting rats at a target than there in his powder-blue suit.
Mak’arune covered her tearful gibbering with both hands as La’ming entered. Every inch a Sea Elf. Her dress was in ocean tones with highlights of sea-foam and it looked like the tide was swelling and ebbing with her every step. Pearls and mother-of pearl bedecked her blood-red hair, her ears, her neck, her waist and her wrists. Her bouquet looked like it could have been plucked from an octopus’ garden despite coming from land-based plants.
Beside her, Lulu was in powder pink, scattering petals in a picture of grace only spoiled by the expression on her face. She, too, would much rather be spitting rats than right there and then in this circumstance.
You can’t always get what you want…
She kept telling herself that. She kept telling the twins that. She kept telling anyone who would listen those exact words.
But if you try sometimes, you get what you need.
La’ming needed this. She needed stability. She needed someone staid and sensible who could balance a chequebook without thinking and be reliable and sensible and reasonable and sensible and…
Mak’arune held her breath through the reason for impediment, with the twins glaring at her and making subtle do something! expressions at her. Just for a tiny moment…
…La’ming looked over her shoulder towards her best friend.
But no words were said.
The marriage lasted four years. Four dull, boring, dependable, sensible and reliable years in which Beige Blandish was perfectly nice. Very little else but nice. Even their break up was amicable and without tears. Beige Blandish remained a friend of that odd little family for the rest of his days.
La’Ming’s second marriage, on the other hand…
Mak’arune watched the woman in the mirror as Taako slotted a few final flowers and feathers into her hair. There were no tears this time. No terror, no trepidation, no uneasy creeping cold-vomit sensation crawling up her spine…
“Perfect,” Taako announced. “I couldn’t ask for a better mom.”
Mak’arune turned away from her reflection. “I look like a fashion model ready for the runway.”
“You look amazing,” he reassured. Very carefully, he smeared her lips with a single red berry. For the sweetness to come, according to Elven tradition.
The doors opened. Taako buckled on his shield and drew his sword, leaving an elbow free for her hand.
There she was. Ocean and sea-spray and pearls. Lup at her side with shield and sword as a very ferocious Honour Guard. They were only a hundred and one, the poor dears. Young enough to take their newfound adulthood tremendously seriously. The dress had sparkles of tiny diamantes on it, this time, because it was bad luck to walk down the aisle twice in exactly the same dress.
Mak’arune didn’t keep the staid and steady pace for long. Neither did La’ming. Her ocean dress became a tidal wave of hugs that met her lunar forest in a laughing crash.
The twins only slightly spoiled things with their victory dance and chants of, here we go, here we go, here we go… But everyone who loved the four of them laughed and applauded.
This is the best thing that has ever happened to me…
This was it. This was right. Mak’arune said the words without thinking a whit about them, and it looked like La’ming did exactly the same.
I love you, I need you, I need it, I love… you…
That kiss was the best one worth waiting for, and Lup showered them both with rose petals despite being too old to be the flower girl any more.
Half the circus erupted in cheers and hoots. More than half of them supplied displays of magical fireworks in celebration.
This one? This one was going to stick.
[1] This is not to say that accountantcy is a position naturally lending a worker in it dull and uninteresting. It is to say that it takes a special kind of person to be very interested in tax law throughout history. Or at all.
[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 9]
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