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

La’ming has a tale to tell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 7]

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

Canon Compliant

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

“Worse,” Angus whispered. “Cobwebs.”

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

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

Young Angus Verse

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

Circus verse

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

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

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

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

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

Baby Birds AU

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

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

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

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

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

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 7]

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

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

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

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

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

“Monty…” said Koko.

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

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

“Missing,” Montgomery repeated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

Now she could understand why. That spell was terrifying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Montgomery checked up on them occasionally and brought them meals.

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

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

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

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

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

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 6]

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

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

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

Then there was the complications with Mak’arune.

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

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

“Hey, Monty…”

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

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

“I’m aware of his existence…”

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

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

“Good,” said Koko.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mak’arune shook her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 6]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lulu laughed out, “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

Borstok shrugged and said, “Fair ‘nuff.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[TAZ Prompts remaining: 6]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you all right?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Nice,” said La’ming. “Want.”

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

Maybe that would suffice.

*

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

Silence there, and nothing more.

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

Quarantine! DO NOT ENTER

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…whatever…” mumbled Koko.

That damned snake was smirking.

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

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

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

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 7]

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As the circus wended its way away from Ranratton, several things became clearly evident.

First: Mak’arune was a born city slicker and didn’t know the first thing about circus life, camping, foraging, or literally anything outside of city life.

“There’s no firewood store anywhere near here?”

Koko snorted as he and his sister gathered sticks and twigs. “This is what you might call the free range stuff.”

“Make your own firewood,” added Lulu.

“It doesn’t come with the bark removed? Ugh. I’m gonna get my dress dirty.”

“So don’t wear your best all the time,” advised Lulu. She was using a portion of her skirt as a basket for her sticks. “You’re out on the road. Getting your clothes dirty is normal.”

Second: Mak’arune was more than a little naïve about almost everything.

“So there are bears that hunt by dropping out of the trees?”

“Yah-huh,” said Lulu, ignoring the faces that Koko made. This was too easy. “They look like a big old beehive, and they’re always on a sturdy branch. That’s how you can tell.”

“While we’re at it,” said Koko. “We’d better warn you about the Snipe…”

Someone eventually told on them for hazing Mak’arune, but by then she had swallowed all possible tall tales. Hook, line, and sinker. It would take months to remove her from the certainty that all that was true.

In the meantime, they could track her during foraging missions by the whistling, clapping, and chanting of, “Owah tafoo lyam.”

Three: Mak’arune was a true innocent and that had to be preserved if only for the novelty value.

“So there I was, in the middle of a vat of syrup and totally naked,” said La’ming, once again temporarily forgetting that the twins were underage and should not be hearing this story. “And these three super-buff guys–”

“HOLY SHIT, MAK’ARUNE’S LISTENING TO SHRIIVO!” Koko took off towards the impending scene.

Shriivo, one of the circus contortionists, was a Changeling Druid and told far more lurid stories than La’ming could hope to accomplish. With descriptive gestures that could make Asmodeus blush.

Lulu missed out on punching her brother, but only because he was out of her range. Then the penny dropped about the inherent peril and she, too, took off towards Mak’arune at double-dash speeds.

La’ming, only a fraction of a flinch behind her, muttered, “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit… as she ran pell-mell for the same destination. They all knew what Shriivo’s stories could do to a person, even if two out of three hadn’t actually heard one because Monty had an over-the-horizon Fantasy radar for Shriivo telling tall tales to the twins.

“…in the middle of Grasping Vines, I had this totally naughty idea,” Shriivo said.

They arrived just in the nick of time. La’ming clamped her hands tight over Mak’arune’s eyes.

Lulu and Koko took an ear each, cushioning one palm per twin over Mak’arune’s half-Elven ears.

All three of them desperately interrupted with, “NONONONONONO, you don’t tell her that kind of story!”

At which point Montgomery turned up to scowl at all four of them and the Scene as it stood.

“Hi, Monty,” said three Elves and one Changeling, all four of them rather badly forged pictures of innocence. Especially in comparison to Mak’arune, the genuine article.

Montgomery wished, not for the first time, that he possessed eyebrows so he could raise one. As it was, the Glare of Doom had to suffice. “I certainly hope nothing untoward was happening,” he said. “And if it was, it better not continue.”

“No, Monty.”

“Of course not, Monty.”

“Who do you think we are?”

“Actually, scratch that question.”

Three Elves released Mak’arune, who glanced from player to player in preserved innocence. “What’s going on?” she said.

“That was a very bad story,” said Montgomery.

Three Elves and one Changeling agreed most enthusiastically.

[TAZ Prompts remaining: 7]

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[AN: more or less directly following from Kitchen Fight over on AO3]

Criminals were a superstitious and cowardly lot. Likewise, so were performers. Therefore, the cast and crew of Montgomery Pithon’s Amazing Circus were doubly superstitious and cowardly as any of the two previous groups. He had something of a story. He had to have reserve stories.

People loved stories. So far, the miraculous appearance of two Sun Elves was goon enough, but sooner or later, questions would be asked. He had to act quickly.

There should be some spare clothing about their size somewhere in the costume cart. He snagged the most sympathetic and gullible person who had finished their food. Lammerly. “I’m certain we’d like our new guests to feel welcome. There’s room for a couple of bunks in my office trailer, but clean clothes of good quality won’t go amiss. You savvy?”

Lammerly’s eyes went wide. “Oooh. Yes! Should I make them some spiced honey milk? The fae folk love spiced honey milk. It’ll make them feel welcomed for sure.”

Monty sprained something making the effort to not roll his eyes. “Sure. Clothes first, of course. Then the beverages. They are, after all, still eating.” He glanced over to his trailer, where the twins had finished their plates and had begun on his neglected one.

He could deal with one less meal. They clearly couldn’t. He slithered towards the chuck wagon to round up a big bowl of leftovers. Not that that was very much. A gratefully hungry crew had only left scrapings inside the containers.

Montgomery added a heel of bread and an armload of apples to the haul before slithering back to the twins. “I guessed you might be hungry,” he said, depositing the bounty before them. “Fill those empty bellies. Then we’ll get some bedrolls installed in my office,” he gestured at the cart.

“Where the money is?” said one.

“No,” said Montgomery, five steps ahead of them already.

*

It was a state that didn’t last long. The twins over-ate, then made pigs of themselves with the spiced honey milk. So naturally they were more than a little regretful about that before the night ended.

“…ooooOoOOooooOOOOoooogh…”

“While I’m inclined to advise you take it easy,” said Montgomery. “There’s an entire camp that would like breakfast. I can carry you gently there if you like.”

“…ithinki’mgunnabesick…”

“We’ll be packing up and moving out,” Montgomery advised. They had slept in their new clothes. Of course they had. “So a light, quick breakfast is advisable.”

He piggy-backed them to the chuck wagon, where the twins did a few interesting things with toast and eggs. Their bickering was greatly reduced, that morrow. A state that would definitely not last long.

Inside of two days, they started getting into stuff. They rifled through Montgomery’s office and found nothing more interesting than maps and paperwork.

He glared them down until they started putting everything back.

The instant the circus hit the next town, he had a "beginner’s act” for the twins. It didn’t take a lot of talent. Anyone could do it. “Tell me,” he said. “Have either of you heard of the Wild Man of Bor’ne’o?”

They hadn’t. He explained it. All they had to do was wear “Wild Man” costumes in a prop cage in the sideshow, talk amongst themselves in their own language, and occasionally snarl at the visitors who paid a silver to come gawk at them.

Low light conditions would help, since their odd eyes would glow in those circumstances. It would also hide the fact that their hair would be dressed to look like it was unkempt and riddled with sticks and assorted debris.

The story of the mysterious wild Elves would be heavily embellished, and the barkers would play it up for all they were worth. Meanwhile, some of the those with less to do would be making ridiculously simple ‘witch eye’ shields out of cardboard, sticks, and coloured cellophane.

Cheap, disposable, and sold for profit enough to make twice as many when the day was done. The frames included some horseshit sigils around the edge.

The rubes ate it up. Good news.

The twins were unnervingly good at it. Not so good news. On one hand, they were brilliant. On the other hand, that meant they were going to get bored.

The twins were going to need training.

Montgomery was going to have to come up with some horseshit so that his crew would be willing to teach these kids.

Fuck.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 10]

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The extra performances would have to wait until they hit the next town and they would all be praying that they wouldn’t need it until long after then. For now, the focus was on packing everything up for an expeditious retreat from Ranratton.

The twins, the usual barometer for this kind of exodus, had already packed up everything they owned into their caravan. Therefore, they were helping pack up the mermaid act with La’ming. None of them were dressed to impress and La’ming took that particular creed to heart. She hadn’t even changed out of her sleepwear: a pair of briefs and a loose half-shift and nothing else. She had washed her hair and hadn’t taken it out of the towel wrapped around her head for hours.

Currently, her hair was in a scruffy bun and she had slipped into storytelling mode. As long as they gave a cursory effort to packing, things would be allowed to persist.

“…so there I am, in my knickers. Three Orcs, a Drow, and five Gnomes surrounding me, and I only had the feather fans,” La’ming said to her enthralled audience: two underaged Elves who could almost feel the way this story was going to go, and were praying that they’d actually hear it this time. “So I said to the Drow, I said–” La’ming frowned, looking outside the tent. “What the fuck does she think she’s doing?”

Koko looked to Lulu, who shrugged. At that exact moment, there was a rather familiar screaming howl of immense upset. The twins knew it by heart. They had, after all, heard it for almost five hours in the Ranratton Watch Cell.

Mak’arune was having a nervous breakdown out on the larger fairgrounds. Largely because she had what looked like her entire life to date packed, piled entirely too high and definitely precariously on a tiny dolly trolly that was never made to roll anywhere over grass and packed dirt. She was in a ridiculously overblown dress and an equally overblown hat, trying to shove the overloaded dolly trolley another inch or two, and currently having a very tearful breakdown.

Koko took all of this in and said, “I’ll fetch Monty, you do the girl thing.”

“Girl thing?” boggled Lulu.

He pointed. “That’s no-man’s land, dingus. I go out there, I’m dead. Go be girls together. Fuck. I’m getting the boss, this is totally over my head. I’m gone.” To prove his point, he took off out of the tent and towards the greater mass of the disassembling circus, screaming for Monty the whole way.

Lulu looked up to La’ming, who was perched on one of the larger cases.

La’ming rolled her eyes and hopped down. “Fine. Let’s go mop her up.”

*

Montgomery could almost tell the story from the scene he encountered. The mousy, shrinking violet of a milliner had either decided or been forced to leave town. She packed everything she owned onto the only transport she had - a tiny dolly trolley that had never shifted a couch in its life. Which was now underneath a literal pile of boxes and some pieces of furniture, and some brand-new suitcases.

Mak’arune was miserable, flanked by La’ming and Lulu. The former had a scarf draped across her front that she couldn’t be convinced to wear by any other living being.

Everyone in his circus knew that La’ming’s evening half-shift was transparent as hell and showed everything underneath. Everyone knew better than to look when La’ming was dressed down. Therefore, someone in this triumvirate had convinced her to put it on and Lulu had never had the chops.

Therefore, mousy, shy, understated Mak’arune simply had some form of power that three hundred and forty people didn’t possess. Which instantly gave her worth to anyone tired of seeing La’ming’s boobs on her ‘dress down’ days.

He lowered himself to somewhere below Mak’arune’s eyeline and said, “What has happened here?” in the softest, gentlest voice he could muster.

“My reputation’s ruined,” Mak’arune wailed. “I’ve got a criminal record and my business is over and there’s nothing left so…” gasp sob. Lots more sobbing.

Lup patted her shoulder ineffectually. “She’s got nowhere to go and all of this shit,” and gestured at the overloaded dolly. “It’s… kind of our fault she’s like this, so…”

“We have to at least set her on her feet somewhere that’s… less…” La’ming gestured back towards Ranratton and trailed off.

“Less of a racist mud-hole?” suggested Koko.

“Tha’s–” hic, “that’s–” hic, “that’s my only ho-ho-hoooommme…”

Koko gestured wildly. “You see?” he said above the hubbub, “You see? I come out here, I’m dead.”

“Only because you keep trying to eat your foot, goofus,” said Lulu.

Montgomery gently took one of her hands and patted it gently. “Miss Mak’arune… you are welcome to come with us until such time as you find greener pastures.”

“I’ll never keep up,” she bawled. “I’ll be left in the gutter!”

Montgomery shared a Look with La’ming, and the twins. Yes, she’s a wet hen, but she’s also our problem.

“There’s a bunk space in the costume cart,” said Koko. “That’s where we hid before the Chuck Wagon Incident.”

Monty glared at him. “So that’s where you two were squirrelled away… Explains… quite a few things.”

“What about her stuff?” protested Lulu. “She’s got her stock and half her house on there.”

Monty sighed and said, “I’ll have a chat with Rynmaru and Kustaad. They have some space. We can manage some wriggle room until she can get a caravan or a cart for all…” he looked up. And up. And up, to where a stool was perched precariously on a table, which was nebulously resting on several hatboxes.

She was an excellent milliner… she likely had the core skills… “Miss Mak’arune… we have a rather urgent need for a costumer. Perhaps, while we sort out where to stow your belongings, you could have a look at some of the worst cases and see what you can do?”

That huge hat of hers had to be her own work. It was also her own advertising. Everything she did to that hat, she could do with outfits. Well. Maybe not with all the dead birds and silk flowers…

His wife was going to kill him for adopting another lost soul.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 9]

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