The Xenophobia wars ended less than two hundred years ago. If you asked any random Human, they would claim the time to be closer or longer than four hundred years. They liked to pretend that the only Elves who remembered the atrocity of yesteryear were the ones who were behind the times and therefore easier to ignore.
Two hundred years after the wars came to a close, there were other evils. Segregation, separation of children from families. Sno was lucky that she’d only read about some horror-shows. Saint Vingo’s, for example, always came to the surface of that particular kettle of bad fish.
That one had given her nightmares for weeks.
The last generation of Elves had grown up more or less incapable of forging families. They had reproduced, and government ‘help’ had produced yet another generation of runaways and half-breeds flocking the ghettos and eking out existence out of whatever they could grab.
La’ming had nearly been down that deep dive. Right into the darkest gutter. She’d had a close call. A very narrow escape. Yet she still gained a majority of her income from… less than socially acceptable avenues.
The rise of dragon dens, Elven gangs, and trade in weeds had caused a lot of (Human) wowsers to generate fuss over how this sorry state of affairs could possibly have happened. They often did this whilst trumpetting about recreating horror-show reform schools that were exactly like Saint Vingo’s… which had caused the extant problem in the first place.
In an effort to pay lip service to action, the Chief of Police came up with a phenomenal stroke of pseudo-brilliance that was destined to bite people in the ass long after he’d retired. He outlawed being underage and unmarried on the streets if one was also Elven.
In an effort to reduce incidences of prostitution, and in an epic display of ignorance, one law stated that it was now illegal for Elven maidens to walk the streets of Neverwinter without the escort of a parent. Elven women had to be married in order to have the freedom to go where they whist and act under their own mental power.
It was bullshit.
As the only unmarried Elf maiden on the force, Sno felt obligated to do something. Not just for the children roaming the streets, but for any other Elf maidens everywhere who may have to deal with these asshole laws in the future.
Since the genetic donor responsible for fathering her couldn’t be assed with her existence, the only parent she had to escort her on her job in the streets of Neverwinter was none other than La’ming Ton. Her mother.
Her mother, who had had Sno at age seventy-one. Her mother, who had abandoned her to her grandparents at age seventy-two. Her mother, who had a criminal record longer than a Goliath’s arm. Her mother, who had earned her most stable income through being a cam girl. Her mother who had recently become emergency foster mother to the Taaco twins. Twins who were also gathering a long record… or at least a very thick case file.
As far as civil disobedience was concerned, this was fucking perfect.
Snocoun Ton, on patrol with her partner Avi -who had been briefed- with her mother in tow and, because minors couldn’t be left at home unaccompanied, the twins. All three of her immediate relatives had been told that, as a proper Elf maiden, Sno could not upbraid her mother or assist in the parenting of her adopted siblings.
Which meant that all three of them had automatic license to commit any and all minor crimes whenever Avi’s back was creatively turned.
It was only a matter of time before the Chief turned up to see what the hell was going on with them. They had been patrolling some of the better neighbourhoods, filled with the aforementioned wowsers, with La’ming wearing some of her flashier outfits and the twins… just being their adorable hyperactive little selves.
Half the golden street numbers in Elysian Heights had gone ‘mysteriously missing’ inside of the first week. The twins were most upset when they learned that they weren’t real gold. Nevertheless, polished brass still had some interesting-for-children resale value. Which was why the very same walled estate frontages were now gaining a layer of small, sticky, Elven handprints.
The chief arrived in his rolls (the hubcaps would be gone in less than a minute, the figurehead on the bonnet would vanish in another minute) and left its secure confines to talk with his most promising Elven officer.
“Ton! Sno! What the hell is all this?”
Sno had a carefully cultivated air of innocence. Nobody could ever guess it was the cleverest of forgeries. “Chief! What a pleasant surprise,” she saluted. “You’re always saying how officers of the law should follow the law, sir. As an example to all others, I’m following your most recent law, sir.”
“What sort of law makes you drag along creatures like that–” he pointed to the twins, who were using the back of his rolls as a trampoline. “–while you’re on duty?”
“No unmarried Elf maiden may go unescorted through the streets of Neverwinter,” she quoted. “Escorts must be characters of good repute and blood relatives, for example, the maiden’s parents.”
La’ming handed the Chief his wallet back. “You need to be more careful where you put this, sir. There’s light-fingered people everywhere.”
The wallet was, no doubt, lighter by a decent percentage of whatever he had in there.
“Chief, allow me to introduce my mother, La’ming Ton,” said Sno. “And these are her wards, Lulu and Koko. You remember that child abandonment case? Tre Llew-Ddion?”
The Chief’s face was an open book with large print and the current page said, Oh, shit… “The children don’t need to be here.”
“Oh, but they do, sir. My mother is their only recognised legal guardian, and therefore the only figure of custody. Leaving them in the care of unauthorised babysitters would be irresponsible, sir.”
“Daycare places. Exist.”
“Sir! Surely you remember the case file you yourself inspected before passing to me… The twins have had numerous bad experiences with official institution. Leaving them there could scar them for life, sir. They’re best in the care of someone they know who cares.”
The twins, bored of attempting to take things from the Chief’s rolls, started climbing the Chief. Sticky handprints and half-chewed sweets appeared all over his crisp uniform.
“You do have a father somewhere,” he growled.
“My father has never been involved in my life to date, sir. Asking him to get involved now would be pointless.” She faked a bright and vacant smile. “Fun fact, he’s one of the people in the council who helped you write this law.”
“But he’s…” the Chief trailed off. The math came out in his head and the full story was not something he wanted to air. Evidently, an older man could make a baby on an underaged girl and still be a gentleman of standing while the girl herself was criminalised.
“Yes,” singsonged Sno. “And not a penny paid for child support.”
The Chief got back on track. “They’re your family. Remind them of the law!”
“Why, sir… for shame. A daughter has no business correcting her own mother, sir. I’m a mere maiden. I have no authority over my younger siblings. Further, I have no legal hold over what they do.”
Lulu had reached the Chief’s shoulders and took his hat for herself. Koko, soon after, confirmed that the Chief did indeed wear a toupee.
Sno may have won a prize for keeping a straight face under those circumstances.
The Chief wheeled on La’ming. “Madam! Control your brats.”
La’ming took offense. “You mean horrible man, how dare you try to suppress my sweet little baby angels.”
Nobody could cause a scene like La’ming Ton. The twins, of course, fell to the street level, sat down, and started bawling their eyes out. Now any wowsers watching from behind their lace curtains would see the Chief as the bad guy.
That law was going to be stricken from the books in less than another week.
[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 11]
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Every parenting book written by parents insist that quiet children were automatically getting into trouble. Every parenting book - according to Snocoun Ton, officer of the Neverwinter City Watch - was wrong. There were two states of Lucretia being quiet, and they were: asleep, or reading.
Needless to say, the school had trouble with this.
“She doesn’t talk,” complained her teacher, with the principal as backup. “Her class participation scores are terribly low.”
“She talks to people she feels safe with,” countered Sno. “She’s been through a lot for someone so young, and… if she feels more confident being quiet, perhaps you could find ways to participate that don’t include making her talk when she doesn’t want to.”
The principal, leaning against the wall, said, “I’m not entirely sure she’s reading… exactly. It looks like she’s just… flipping through the books.”
“You haven’t watched her eyes. She’s really reading them.”
Mz Tutta sighed and steepled her fingers. “For her age group, we have to hear her reading out loud for her to advance into later classes. Talking is not only necessary, but also vital for her further education.”
“That’s not fair for mute people,” noted Sno. “Nor any deaf ones.”
“She’s capable of talking,” said the principal. “Therefore, she has to talk.”
Sno did all her grumbling about ableist horseshit before she was within hearing range of the little shelter where Lucretia preferred to sit and read. She had a two-inch-thick tome from some epic sprawling fantasy, and paging through it with her normal rapidity.
She approached with just the right amount of noise. A heavy enough tread to be detected, but not heavy enough to threaten. She stopped just out of arms’ reach and dropped to a squat, waiting patiently for Lucretia to finish the section.
Little brown fingers politely added a bookmark to the places. Beautiful deep, brown eyes paid Sno cautious attention.
“Bad news, Lucretia… They’re insisting you talk. They say they have to keep you in that class until you do.”
Lucretia huffed in exasperation and sighed disappointment.
“The good news is that if you can read out loud for them, they might bump you up to an older class.”
Lucretia’s skeptical glare said that she didn’t think that was good news.
“I know. It’s all horse apples. Unfortunately, it’s all horse apples that we have to put up with. Sorry. How about… I read to you and then you can read to me, tonight. We can cuddle up in the cote and stop whenever we’re ready.”
Nod. This was a good deal.
*
Sno liked thinner books than Lucretia. She read a good section of Wee Free Men for Lucretia. She opened her tome to her bookmark and read, “Teach the ignorant as much as you can; society is culpable in not providing a free education for all and it must answer for the night which it produces. If the soul is left in darkness sins will be committed. The guilty one is not he who commits the sin, but he who causes the darkness…”
She read very softly, but she was clearly reading. Competently. Capably. Ably.
If anyone wanted to claim that a four-year-old child had somehow memorised the entirety of Les Miserables, then Sno would have immense fun watching them trying to use this as a reason why Lucretia should stay down with her age-mates.
Sno cuddled up with Lucretia as she read, checking over the little Humanman girl’s shoulder as she read. Her purr started, of course, as she helped steady the tome in Lucretia’s tiny hands. After that began, Lucretia started smiling as she read.
When she finished with the chapter, she leaned into Sno and said, “You tickle.”
“Good tickles?” Sno worried.
Nod. She squirmed further into their embrace.
Sno automatically petted her. “Don’t ever think you’re stupid just because they say so. You’re a clever little girl, and the whole world should believe in you.”
Lucretia took a deep breath and did her best imitation of an Elven purr.
It would be a long time before she would speak freely, but when she did… she would be strong.
[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 9]
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The pace of the bride, the pace of the groom, tell all watching the measure, how much love bein’ true – Ancient Faerun saying.
Some arrangements had to be made. Johann didn’t have much in the way of family who claimed him, though he had made a plethora of friends who were far, far better. The entire ranks of the Precinct and some members of the Neverwinter City watch from outside of the Precinct were there. Sno’s family could not be stopped.
Well. The rowdy side of her family could not be stopped. Which meant that Lulu was there as a flower girl and Koko as a flower boy in a dress because why should his sister have all the fun of pretty dresses with fairy wings and flower crowns? La’ming Ton, Sno’s mother, was in amongst the ranks of Watch officers with her girlfriend. Another half-Elf by the name of Makarune.
She had been the seamstress who had seen to Johann’s outfit for today.
Avi, Sno, and all the other officers of the Watch in attendance had a much easier choice of wardrobe. Or rather, a lack of choice. Formal ceremony meant formal attire. End of discussion.
Dress blues, knee boots, dress sword, capelet, white gloves, and the plumed hat. On Sno, it looked crisp and vaguely menacing. Avi, on the other hand, couldn’t help feeling like a bit of a knob in the whole get-up.
His heart was in his mouth. This was it. This was the big day. This was where his life changed for the better for sharing it with Johann.
Soon to become Mr Johann Burnsides.
“Teeth,” said Sno.
He bared them, and she checked for anything embarrassing stuck in there. There shouldn’t be. He hadn’t been able to eat anything since he woke up and fought off the hangover thanks to the McDonald Family recipe for Gator-aid.
“Your teeth aren’t green either. Excellent,” she noted.
“Yeah, despite Andy’s best fuckin’ efforts.” They shared a laugh. “Ready as I can be.”
Sno stepped outside the door, made certain her sword was clear and clean and saluted the Chief of the Watch with it before returning it to her scabbard. Across the way, one of La’ming’s co-stars -unrecognisable in a crisp black suit- exited the opposite chamber and gave the signal.
Buglers played a fanfare. The door opened. Avi barely remembered the formalities because -oh sweet gods- Johann was resplendent in full Bard’s Motley. Deep lapis. Stark vermillion. Vibrant saffron.
The hose. The long, scalloped sleeves. The slashed pantaloons. The fucking codpiece. And the brocade. My gods, he looks magnificent.
Johann’s magnificent curls were trained into ringlets behind his lovely pointed ears, and sailing on top like a ship in the storm was a feathered cap with a peacock’s eye in amongst all the other finery.
Avi didn’t remember what pace he set but witness statements after the fact stated unanimously that both he and Johann took off running to collide in a hug and kiss combo where they both took turns dipping each other. Much to the enthusiastic applause, cheers, and hoots of the audience.
The celebrant officiating had to remind them both to “save some of that for later.”
He took off his gloved and tucked them beside the sword. Staring at Johann and holding his hands as the celebrant went through all of the usual palaver.
He remembered sounding soppily goopy when he said, “I do,” and loving hearing it in Johann’s voice when he said the same.
Tears might have been shed. Sno would never admit to it in her lifetime.
While they were sharing the official kiss, the twins had a competition to see how many flower petals they could get in the new couples’ hair. They were extremely lucky that they were small and cute and could get away with those kinds of shenanigans.
They both had indelible smiles on their faces for the rest of the day.
[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 11]
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Sno was going to be Avi’s Second in his wedding to Johann. It was a choice that was beyond automatic. It was almost instinctual. They’d been best friends since the Academy. Of fucking course she was going to be the next best thing to the Best Man. It also, kind’a-sort’a, solved the problem of what they were going to wear to the ceremony.
It also presented a heavy problem.
As Avi’s Second, it was Sno’s duty to run the Stag Night. The Bachelor Party. The last hurrah before a life of domestic bliss. Him, her, and the boys on a pretty standard evening of drunken revelry, pranks, and possibly a stripper. Sno knew about the theory, but…
That was pretty much all she knew.
She was his partner. He loved her like a sister. But gods damn it, Sno had all the social capability of a house brick.
“Hey, pard’. I can get my mother to jump out of a cake.”
Case in point. “What?”
“Family discount. Mom jumps out of a cake, does a few dirty dances, everyone has fun and we have like, a hundred spare for more booze.” She looked up from the clipboard. “It’s win-win.”
She was genuine. Sweet Fantasy Jesus, she was genuine. “It’s. Your. Mother.”
“Yes?”
“That’s fifteen levels of inappropriate.”
“Weird. ‘Cause twenty of the guys have her pinups in their lockers, and–”
Avi put his fingers in his ears and started humming. He only stopped when she stopped talking.
“It’s cool,” said Sno. “I’ve known she’s been doing this for years and she has like three ready-to-steal-’em babysitters for the twins and–”
“Your mother had twins?” Avi panicked. “You have baby sibs?”
“She found ‘em by a dumpster and is in the middle of upcycling them. Chill.”
“Wait. Stop. Someone abandoned twins by a dumpster…”
“No, they were kind’a living there themselves. You remember the Taaco case out by Tre Llew-Ddion?”
“Those twins?” Oh, this was not good. Orphaned at three, shuffled between assorted asshole family members and shitty foster homes for a year. Runaways who dropped off the map at five. A chain of suspicious fires, horrible accommodations, peculiar deaths, and murders most foul. And now they resurfaced in the illegal care of an internet stripper who was also his partner’s mother. “This couldn’t get any worse if the kids were boosting cars, Sno.”
“Believe it or not, mom’s cleaned up her act since she had me in her seventies. She’s… she’s actually better care and providing more of a stable environment than anywhere official. I’ve checked.”
“Your mother. Who played Busty Juggs in Tug Rats.”
“Yeah?”
“A better care provider.”
“She doesn’t do any hinky stuff when the kids are home. Gods. She’s a train wreck, not a monster.” Sno started ticking off the checklist on her fingers. “The apartment’s clean. Her studio’s always locked, the kids have proper food, good clothes, and they’re going to school. She makes sure they have good babysitters when she’s livestreaming. They’re even seeing some doctors about the malnutrition and parasites they picked up both on the street and via official channels. She’s… she’s actually being a halfway decent foster parent.”
Avi forced the conversation back on track. “And you want her to jump out of a cake for my Stag party.”
“The kids need books. They’re voracious readers.”
*
Of course a couple of the guys dressed up in SWAT gear to haul him away from his apartment. That was pretty much SOP for a City Watch Stag Nite. Instead of the come-along wagon, there was a party bus and Sno had stocked it with Redcheek cider. Avi’s favourite booze, besides the microbrews he made himself.
The party music was fairly typical. Nothing overtly offensive even though little of it was his particular jam. He could dance to it - more and more as he imbibed - and have a modicum of fun.
Then they arrived at the bar that was the actual party venue. A bar that had a stage with poles on it and a suspiciously huge cake.
She didn’t, Avi begged the universe. Please, gods, tell me she did not…
“Oh no,” said Sno with blatantly fake sincerity. “They delivered the wedding cake early and to the wrong address…”
Just then, half a dozen nuns entered the bar.
“Whoah, whoah, hey. This is a private party, ladies. Sisters.”
“Oh we won’t be here long,” singsonged the lead nun. “We’re gathering funds for orphaned and abandoned children. Just a five minute song and dance and we’ll be on our way.”
Waitasecond… since when do nuns wear heels? Avi had just enough time to ponder that before some heavy Eighties synth started pounding out of some small but powerful speakers. Bananarama’s Venus started pounding and a well-endowed figure burst forth from the cake.
Sno’s mom did not jump out of the cake. The stripper in the cake was none other than Hornee D'Lite, a Tiefling co-star in Tug Rats and regular feature in the local brand of direct-to-disk porno.
No. Sno’s mom was the lead nun. She had managed to gather together the entire fucking cast of Tug Rats for a one-night-only live performance.
This could not have got more mortifying if Sno had been trying. That was the regrettable part. Sno had honestly been trying to make this a night to remember.
Well… she wasn’t wrong…
Schools with a choir program always went after the Elves like starving, rabid dogs after a hunk of steak. It shouldn’t have surprised La’ming Ton, new mother of two tiny, adorable, six-year-old twins that the choir program swarmed during their first day of school. Frankly, she was shocked that someone got little mister no-words Koko to string together a complete sentence.
That kid was jittery as hell around strangers at the best of times. Hell, the first time they met, he only got into her apartment because he was out cold and Lulu trusted her. The fact that she had food when he woke up gained her a minimum of trust, likewise the fact that she didn’t force them into anything.
How he had agreed to choir had to be a tale involving major intervention from the gods. Probably all of them.
Now, though, La’ming was glad.
For such little devils, they both had voices like angels. Sweet, pure voices that never missed a note. It was almost enough to sweep one away into paradise…
Blip-blip k’chow boom “HEY DO YOU WANT TO MEET HOT SINGLES IN YOUR AREA? MY NAME’S TAMMY AND–”
Several people were glaring at the kid in the next row forward, and slightly to the left of La’ming. Some were shushing him. La’ming politely tapped him on the shoulder. “Could you silence your phone, please?” she whispered. “Some people want to listen to this.”
“Some people can bite me,” he said.
Well. She had asked nicely. Now it was her turn to play nasty.
She focussed the spell intensely onto one person. Specifically, a much smaller bubble than the usual twenty feet. Then, blessing the fact that she took a couple of levels at Bard-dom, made a gesture behind his seat and whispered, “Pianissimo, pianissimo, pianissimo, pianissimo.”
Ha. That should shut him up for the duration. Which should be extended because of the smaller volume.
His mother had to be somewhere… but La’ming wasn’t budging until her babies had their solos. Koko’s soul-cleansing extended arpeggio… closely followed by Lulu’s irrepressible tempo change into something that made the entire audience tap their feet and burst out in applause.
Damn straight. Those were her babies. Shining like they deserved to. La’ming blew them both kisses and sidled out of her seat to have a little Word with Susan Hakniid, who was busy haranguing the talent night’s director for a slot for her idiot lump of a son, Jason.
Everyone knew Jason. If it were possible, he would be put away for wasting carbon, air, and everyone’s time… but you couldn’t convince Susan of that. She was utterly convinced that her darling little Jason was a gift to the world and only needed one real chance to show it.
If he’s such a gift, how can I return it? La’ming wondered, not for the first time. It took her three goes to get Susan’s attention.
“–and furthermore, your own school charter says that every talented student will get an opportunity to shine, I was talking…”
“We noticed,” said La’ming. “All the way through other childrens’ opportunities to shine. Or is your son the only child who matters?”
Only now did Susan notice the front three rows of parents, friends, and family all glaring in her direction.
“We have sent numerous notes about your son, Jason, and his… lack of co-operative skills,” said the director, who finally had a word in edgewise. “His only talent on display tonight is that of being a disturbance. Something he’s obviously inherited.”
“You might want to have a word with him during intermission,” said La’ming. “If he thinks he can make noise during others’ performances, other kids might think they’re allowed to make noise during his performance.”
“Assuming he can spend a semester without any behaviour demerits,” said the director in a hurried addition. “Furthermore, as per the school rulebook, any further disturbance by you or your son will force us to remove you both from the premises.”
“This is a conspiracy to hold him back,” Susan hissed. “My lawyers are going to be involved.”
Thank the gods that the courts found security footage to be more admissible than Susan Hakniid ever did. Meanwhile, La’ming got to field her babies as they came off stage.
“You. Were. Amazing,” she said scooping them up into her arms and delivering a kiss each onto their darling little cheeks. She carried them towards her vacated seat and whispered, “Wanna blow the rest of the evening off for pizza and ice cream?”
Two matching grins and four matching thumbs’ up gestures. The perfect finish to a not-so-perfect night.
Promotions didn’t happen often amongst the Elven portion of the NWPD, so Snocoun’s ascent upwards in the ranks was reason to throw a huge party. Sno hadn’t wanted any kind of public attention, so Avi had arranged literally everything. The venue, the caterers, and the entertainment.
Everything had been arranged by text. Email, messaging systems. He hadn’t known…
He hadn’t known the Bard would be so lovely.
Avi was staring. He knew he was staring. He could feel the blush starting in his cheeks. He could imagine quite a number of interesting futures with that man on the dias.
All dependant on his being able to talk to him first.
“You’re drooling, Burnsides,” Sno murmured in his ear. “See something you like?”
Avi swallowed and quickly looked away from the violinist. “Who? Me? What makes you say that?”
Sno quickly picked up on where Avi was pointedly not looking and smiled like a shark. “Oooh… Lust at first sight… The Bard?”
“Shut up,” he mumbled.
“I think you li-ike him. You want to ki-iss him. So go and hu-ug him…”
“Shut up…” The blush crept outwards from his cheeks.
Sno took a deep breath and fortified herself. “Welp. It’s about time I took a bullet for you. We’re buddies. It’s about time I did you a good turn.”
Avi, who knew exactly how awful Sno was at interpersonal relationships, cringed and blushed harder. “Sno, no…”
“Sno, yes.”
Avi could only whimper and attempt to hide in the crowd. He rolled a nat 1 on his stealth check.
*
Johann had been quietly eyeing the guy who’d hired him half the night. He knew that Elves - even half-Elves like himself - had a certain effect on Humanmen. He was living proof. As the night progressed, the dude was turning increasingly interesting shades of red.
Uh-oh. Here came the partner. Johann had heard the others here calling her ‘the cold front’ half the night and ‘the big chill’ the other half. Judging by the look on her face, she was about to be up to shenanigans. Probably something like requesting Freebird or Louie Louie. Junk like that.
“Hey. Bard…”
“Name’s Johann.”
“Yeah. Uh. Do you, like… have somebody?”
What? This was not what he anticipated. Not at all. He and Redguy had been chatting for a while. Maybe Red was that colour because he knew she was this awful. “Whut?” he said.
“You know like…” her hands juggled invisible balls between them. "A life partner. Significant other. Snuggle buddy. Whatever. Do you come home to a flesh person on the regular?”
Flesh person. Holy shit, that was awful. No wonder Red, over there, was turning vermillion. “…no?”
“Are you looking for someone?”
Gods. She was making it worse. "Uh. Lady. I’m not… You’re not my -uh- cuppa tea…“ How to back outta this gig without being arrested or whatever? Over in the corner, Red was trying to hide inside his own hands.
“What?” she said.
“What?” he said.
“No! I mean. I’m not into you. Not like that. Um. A friend'a mine… he’s been… Look. Do you like guys?” This whole situation could not get more awkward even if they were having an awkward contest.
“This conversation is getting harder and harder to follow,” Johann confessed.
“So… my partner. Not partner-partner, but like, on the job partner? He thinks you’re cute.” Her face twisted weirdly and after a moment, Johann realised she was trying to smile. “He’s my buddy and I’m trying to do him a solid, here.”
Across the room, now valiantly attempting to hide in a corner despite the lack of cover, Red yelled, “DAMNIT, SNO!”
Buzz around the room increased significantly. Johann knew that buzz. Bets were being laid. More than that would be being laid, if he played his cards right.
“That’s him,” said Sno.
“Oh. Yeah.” Johann was certain he was failing to pretend he hadn’t noticed Red. “Kind’a cute…” especially when he was red-faced and cringing in anticipation of imminent disaster.
Sno turned and yelled, “HE SAYS YOU’RE CUTE!”
Gods, it was amazing the poor fellow didn’t spontaneously combust. If the path to true love was paved with soul-crushing mortification, this lady was the gods-damned entire road works. “Lay off the poor fellow, huh. I don’t want him to die before we get a chance to talk.”
“His name’s Avi Burnsides and I will figure out a way for you two to talk to each other tonight if it kills me.” She had a slip of paper ready and tucked it into his shirt pocket. “But just in case, that’s his number.”
Ah shit. “M’kay. Real quick. Favourite song?”
“Istanbul Not Constantinople by They Might Be Giants.”
“Cool.” He pitched his voice to carry. “This next number is at the request of the celebrant…” and then proceeded to play the living fuck out of Istanbul.
*
Meanwhile, over in the corner of Avi’s eternal shame…
“I hate you and I want you to shrivel up and die,” said Avi.
“No you don’t,” Sno handed him another Redcheek Cider. The strong stuff, since they’d either be walking or catching a cab home. Besides, her buddy obviously needed some Dutch Courage. “He said you’d have to pay him in person? Someone’s been stealing his mail.”
Avi didn’t believe it for a second. “We already have each others’ emails, and I can pay him by e-transfer.”
“Nope. You can’t do it. There’s been a SNAFU with his bank. They’re taking too long to give him money people send him. Dude’s running a bit short. He needs to pay rent y’know?”
“Ahuh,” said Avi in his this-is-a-cartload-of-horseshit voice. “What kind of SNAFU?”
_Ah, crap…_ “Uh. Like. You know on Paypal when you get too many payments, too fast? They -uh- freeze your account? It’s like that, only they’re auditing every e-payment. It’s a pain in the ass.”
“Huh. Never heard of that,” he said. “Shouldn’t be a big deal to hand him a cheque.”
“And thank him for a marvellous job at playing tonight?”
“Especially that one. I didn’t know you were into They Might Be Giants.”
“Who isn’t?”
“Sno…”
“I panicked. It was the only violin piece I could think of.”
He patted her arm. “Honesty’s very important between friends, Ton, Sno.”
“I’m letting you get away with that tonight, Burnsides. Thin ice,” she growled. “Drink your cider.”
She sipped lightly - not that alcohol had a lot of effect on Elves - and tipped up his elbow a little to encourage him to drink more.
“You’re an ass, Sno,” Avi coughed, having had some of the cider go the wrong way.
“Yeah, and you’re the only one who can handle it. Drink up. You’re gonna talk to the man.”
“Okay.”
“Tonight.”
“Okay.”
“And say more than two words in succession.”
Now he looked stricken. “Aw, come on…” He was back into turning a fine shade of crimson. “I can’t do that.”
“Not yet, you can’t,” she had a bottle of his finest, richest home brew. “Follow that with some of this, and you might be able to say a few words to him before the end of the evening.”
Avi whimpered.
“Or…” she said. “I act as your go-between all night.”
Avi sank the rest of his Cider in a sudden and desperate thirst.
*
Johann took a break for food and something non-alcoholic. Two more sets, tops, and ninety percent of these cops would be so pie-eyed, they’d be pouring them into their cabs and ubers.
Uh oh. Here came the lady of the evening. Shoving her partner towards Johann with a great amount of reluctance on his part.
“No, no, no, no… I still can’t do it… Sno-o-o-o-o-o…”
“Say ‘hello’,” coached Sno.
Avi, halfway sloshed and very red in the face. “Uhm. Hi? You play real good.”
“Thanks,” said Johann. “I practice daily.”
“Say, ‘I think you’re cute’,” coached Sno.
Avi went even redder. “That… um… youroutfitlooksrealnice…”
“Close enough.”
Johan was starting to feel a little pink around the cheeks, himself. “Yeah, the entertainment company makes me wear it.”
“Say, ‘maybe I should see you out of uniform’,” said Sno.
“NOT LIKE THAT!”
Johann snorted. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind seeing you off the clock, either. You free weekends?”
“Alternate ones,” said Sno. “This coming weekend is completely free.”
“…eeeeeeeee…” said Avi, cringing in mortification.
“Saturday or Sunday?” said Johann. “You a morning person, cutie?”
“…kyeeee…” Avi gasped. “…yousaidI’mcute?”
“He’s a very annoying morning person,” said Sno. “Pick a day.”
“Saturday’s cool,” said Johann. “I know a great breakfast place on Swine Row. One thirty-four. Know it?”
Sno had picked his pocket and was plugging details into his phone. “He’ll find it. I’ll make certain he doesn’t freak out and dash.”
“I got a quicker way,” Johann said. “Want some motivation, sweetie?”
Avi just kind of squeaked.
Johann leaned over and kissed him. A friendly smooch on the cheek, but he put a lot into it. “See you Saturday? About nine in the morning?”
“…uh huh…?” Avi squeaked.
“Fantastic.” He was a lot red in the face, now. “Got any favourite songs? And please don’t say ‘Istanbul’.”
“Um. Day in the Life by the Beatles?”
“Aw shit yeah,” Johann grinned.
Sno dinged her champagne glass with a fork. “Everyone? Everyone raise your glasses for Officer Burnsides… because he has a date this weekend!”
The entire room cheered as one half paid some money to the other half.
[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 11]
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Avi slowed as he passed the fire escape. It was getting dark, and it was getting chilly, and that little girl that had been up there this morning, was still up there now. Sure, she had a light to read by, but she was looking mighty cold. All huddled up with her knees inside her dress.
Sno, who had marched ahead, stopped and turned back. “What?” she said.
Avi nodded his head in the kids’ general direction. “I think something smells wrong with a situation, here.”
Their chief had them on the shittiest jobs. Enforcing CPS visits, rules, and decrees. Separating kids from the only families they knew. Sweeping kids up off the streets when they’d been thrown out of their homes… sometimes recovering sad, small bodies from culverts, dumpsters, and gutters. They got to have a second sense about things being hinky.
Sno saw it in a second, of course. “Aw shit. D-U-N?” Quasi-forensics code for Dead Upstairs Neighbour.
City life lead to some fucked up shit, sometimes. Like neighbours not knowing that a fellow neighbour had died until the foul-smelling ichor leaked into their own areas. Or children living with the deceased bodies of their parents until something forced the information out into the open.
This tiny little figure on the fire escape was small enough to not know what death looked like. Just like a certain pair of twins in her case file who had cooked for themselves for two months before… Well. That had been a nasty one.
Avi, usually the smiling, welcome face of the NWPD, walked in his patented Friendly Goof manner towards the fire escape. “Hi there, cutie…” he cooed.
She hid behind her book with barely a whimper.
“So much for the Burnsides’ famous rustic hospitality,” Sno teased. She edged around to the kids’ peripheral vision and did her best impersonation of harmlessness. It came off as somewhere between burning fuse, loaded gun, and growling dog with orange eyebrows. “Hey. My name’s Sno. What’s yours?”
She didn’t hide, but rather peeked past her book with one eye.
*
“Hey, up there,” the blue-ish police woman waved again. “Can I come up?"
Lucretia looked down at the officers. There was the nice young man and the scary blue lady and they weren’t going away like everyone else did. She’d seen the scary blue lady around the neighbourhood, and had once seen her taking down a bad guy at the bodega. She was the good kind of scary. Lucretia nodded.
She winced when the fire escape shook, all the same.
"No, Burnsides. You stay down here. If we both come up, we could spook her. She gave me permission."
The nice young man said, "Okay, but when she screams at you, I’m coming up there for mop-up."
"Just gimmie one of those lollipops you always have and I’ll try it your way.”
Lucretia watched as the scary lady came up. Watched as she slowed down the closer she came to Lucretia’s sunny spot. Watched in silence and read the name, “Ton” on her badges. There were other words, too. Serve and Protect.
“Pretty cold up here, isn’t it?”
Lucretia had to agree. She nodded.
“I see you have an umbrella for rain. That’s smart. Do you have something for the cold? Or would you like my jacket?"
Lucretia glanced inside the window into her home. She didn’t like going in there if she could help it. The smell was getting real bad. She took a risk and pointed to the jacket. It was nice and warm when scary Ton wrapped it around her.
"Is it bad inside?” said scary Ton.
Lucretia had to nod. It was very bad inside.
“Nobody hurts you,” it was more a statement than a question. Police were clever and saw lots of things. Scary Ton would notice things like bruises. Or little stains that weren’t washed out of Lucretia’s cleanest clothes.
Lucretia nodded again.
“Who’s looking after you, sweetie?"
You had to be honest with police. Lucretia pointed at herself.
"Are your people sick?”
Lucretia thought about that one. They were sick. Mom and Dad had been very, very sick. And then they stopped coughing and throwing up and stopped breathing and started smelling bad. She shrugged.
“Can I go see?” said Scary Ton.
She couldn’t work out why she wanted to, but Lucretia nodded.
Scary Ton went inside, and coughed some, too. Then she came back outside. “You’re right. It’s very bad in there. I can take you somewhere that’s better. Would you like that?"
Lucretia nodded, and when Scary Ton came all the way out onto the fire escape, she latched onto the Police Officer’s leg and wouldn’t let go.
The nice young man down on the street thought this was so funny, but Lucretia just wanted to feel safe. Scary Ton was scarier than anything else in the whole world and would protect Lucretia from everything, she just knew it.
Lucretia wanted ‘safe’ more than anything in the whole wide world.
“Okay, okay…” Scary Ton cooed. “I can’t take you anywhere like that. Come on… up a bit… up to my hip, huh? I need that foot for later.”
It took some wrestling, but Lucretia wound up on Scary Ton’s hip and the coat got put back on with Lucretia still inside. Scary Ton held her close and patted her hair and she was warm and smelled nice and Lucretia didn’t want to feel scared when she was like that.
*
Sno lowered down the kid’s supplies in a bag with the help of some string. Her coming down the fire escape with the kid on one hip was a complicated matter, but she was agile enough to get them both down without trouble.
“Double ten-fifty-five,” she said. 10-55. Coroner’s case.
She flinched away from Avi’s offer of touch.
“Hey, it’s okay, Lucretia…” she’d learned the name inside the apartment. A name plate on her door plus confirmation via found ID’s gave her name as Lucretia Clarke. Her own attempts at writing practically screamed that she preferred her full name, rather than Luce, Lucy, or any other derivative diminutive. “This is Avi. He’s my friend. And you know what? He’s always got lollipops.” The last sentence had been added in a conspiratorial whisper.
Avi, on cue, used some sleight of hand to produce one as if by magic. This one was yellow, like Lucretia’s pale blonde hair. “Ah? You can take it, it’s okay.”
Lucretia burrowed into the confines of Sno’s coat. “Guess she’s not a fan of candy. Or she’s not a fan of you.”
“Fine, I’ll call it in. You keep her cosy.”
Sno juggled the kid on her hip a little. Amazed at every turn how someone that small could get so heavy. There’d be no getting this kid to let go, that was a white-knuckle grip she had on Sno’s clothes. “You know… if you feel like talking, you can tell me why you like me. I’m not exactly popular with kids like you.”
Lucretia didn’t say a word, just closed her eyes so she could listen intensely to Sno’s chest.
Judging by the condition of the bodies, she hadn’t heard an adult’s heartbeat or breathing for five months.
“It’s gonna be okay,” she whispered. “I got’cha. I got’cha.” One breath to steady herself. Two. Three. And, oh fuck… she was purring for this kid.
Now what?
[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 7]
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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]
[Be sure to visit internutter (dot) org for details on how to support this artist]
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]
[Be sure to visit internutter (dot) org for details on how to support this artist]
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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