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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Still Tumbl'd, Still TAZ - Chapter 2 - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]
More baby birds shenanigans!
Also available as a chapter in Nestlings.
Tumbl Into TAZ - Chapter 100 - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]
Final story. Final Pam. Kind’a fitting, I think.
This is not the end of my prompted ficlets. Just the end of this collection of them. New story, and new collection, tomorrow!
Tumbl Into TAZ - Chapter 99 - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]
Fae shenanigans
Tumbl Into TAZ - Chapter 98 - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]
Susan’s perspective on Jason’s redemption arc. With a little redemption for hubby Kyle as well
Tumbl Into TAZ - Chapter 95 - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]
Karaoke night at the BOB
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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New school! New books! New clothes! New people! Loud noise everywhere, of course. People made noise. They made a lot of noise, especially on occasions like orientation day at Miller Academy.
He knew this in advance. He thought he was prepared.
But still the hubbub of chatter hammered at his ears. Still, the confusion of uniformed bodies dazzled his eyes. Still, the eternal clatter of footwear on tiled floors vibrated his very bones.
And there was a black cloak around him and the cool touch of Mr Kravitz’s skin on his cheek. “Deep breaths, Chickie,” he cooed. “Need some green?”
Mr Taako was there, much warmer and soothing his hair. “You okay, pumpkin?”
“…loud,” he said. “Green please.”
The three of them made their way to the nearest small garden. Miller Academy catered to many kinds of genius and recognised the need for little courtyards full of green, growing things. This enclave had an abundance of feathery ferns and soft mosses to cover the ground. There was also a sort of wicker basket chair that his parents plopped him into like a prince into a throne. Papa at his left hand and Dad at his right.
“Deep breaths, baby,” said Papa. “I’m gonna call Aunty Lup and get her to bring your teachers over here, one at a time.”
“It’s not going to be like this all the time,” soothed Dad. “You’re going to be okay, Chick. Breathe with me.”
It was easy, now that they were in a space that felt safer, was less loud, and had a deep calm to it. He could focus on his breaths. Centre himself with the help of the wickerwork basket of a chair, and its inherent, subtle creaking.
“Lulu’s got this,” Papa returned to kneeling on the moss. “Need a hug?”
Angus lunged into his Papa’s arms. His bracelets jingled as they wrapped around him. He let his world be Papa’s perfume and the soft texture of his clothes and the silky softness of his hair and the warmth of his skin.
Somewhere outside of the world that was Papa, Dad said, “Want some Calm Emotion?”
Angus shook his head. This place and the comfort of his parents was good enough to defuse the rising tension caused by the hubbub of the halls. Two more breaths and he was able to stop his shaking.
By that time, the first of his teachers had arrived in Aunty Lup’s tow. A kind-faced half-Elf woman with skin almost as dark as Dad’s.
“Hi there, Angus,” she singsonged. “Orientation’s a big noise, huh?”
Angus let himself relax into Papa’s lap. “It’s good, now. My family knows how to help me.”
“We’re prepared for this sort of thing,” assured the teacher, who introduced herself as Miss Terkiish. “No more than ten students per classroom, easy courtyard access and soft rooms if the need arises.”
“According to the hall monitors, things should be going quieter in about ten minutes,” said Aunty Lup. “We can time the rest of the tour for the lulls in noise.”
Angus felt safe enough to say, “That sounds like a great idea. Thank you.”
[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 6]
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