They grow up so fast. Allegedly. They say that Elves mature at the same rate as humans, but that is not quite so. Elves don’t have growth spurts, but rather slowly progress at a steady pace from infancy to something close to their adult forms.

According to their parents, they shoot up overnight. According to outside observers, they keep pace with their Human counterparts until roughly their mid-teens. That’s when the final progress of Elven growth slows down over the remaining eighty-some years until their official entrance into the adult world.

Humans used to say that it took special training to tell an underaged Elf from a grown one. That was before a lot of vitally necessary education regarding some of the more subtle indicators of an Elf’s age. All of this meant that Sazed had no business approaching Koko during his afternoon work in the local bodega.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I was documenting daily life in the urban landscape and I accidentally got you in the shot.”

“Walkway needs sweeping m’dude,” said Koko, never stopping.

“No, no. That’s not a complaint. Look.” He showed the image on his camera, which looked almost like something by a renaissance painter. With the clouds of dust and the light streaming through them and Koko, in the middle of it, looking like some diving being with the light shining in his golden hair. “You look so beautiful, here. You could be a model.”

Koko smiled in spite of himself. So far, only his moms had called him beautiful. Even his sister said he was the ugly one and they were identical. “Aw, that’s sweet of you. And a good pic. Pity I’m not paid enough to buy a print.”

“Oh, I’m not selling,” he said. “I’m Sazed Baker, and I was hoping to hire you.”

Koko brayed laughing. “For reals? Me?”

“Sure. You can start by signing this release form so I can put this picture in my art book.” Sazed offered a reasonably thick sheaf of paperwork. “This is boilerplate stuff. Permission to use and reproduce this image as an unpaid civilian, bla bla bla. Everyone has to sign it. It’s horseshit. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“Uuuhh… I have to run this by my moms…”

Sazed appeared shocked. “Come on… we’re both men of the world. You don’t really need your mommy’s approval for everything do you?”

“Legally yeah. I’m like sixteen.”

“Sixteen? You? I’d never have guessed. I had guessed you were way older.”

Koko blushed. “Yeah? How old?”

Lulu appeared like a demon or an avenging angel. “Boss says stop standing around and looking pretty. Your turn in the stockroom.”

“Aw, Lulu…”

*

Lulu didn’t like the guy that Koko was already stupid in love with. Much though she’d never admit to loving her brother, he had a tendency to fall into love like the KT meteor into the Yucatan. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings about Sazed but…

There was something hinky about him.

Which was why she pulled Aunt Sno into the kitchen for some hushed and urgent girl talk while Koko continued to wax lyrical about his favourite topic - Sazed.

“You know how you’re always telling me to watch out for guys?” said Lulu. “You should have been warning Koko. This dude? Sazed? He might be like a semi-famous photographer and shit but… some of the stuff he says? Some of the stuff he does? I get hackles like anything.”

“I did try to warn Koko,” said Aunt Sno, sipping at her semi-eternal cup of coffee. “Some people just can’t be told.”

“I caught them in the stairwell last night, kissing. And it wasn’t what you’d call an innocent kiss. It’s like…” she groped for the correct reference frame. Her moms kissed like they were giving their hearts to each other. Angus and Agatha kissed like they were each others’ water in the desert. “You know those old movies where the guy kisses the girl to shut her up and you always yell about it? That. And Koko always melts like warm butter.”

“Okay, that’s a borderline thing, I can’t really–”

“His hands went inside Koko’s clothes, I swear.”

Aunt Sno nodded. “That, I can investigate. I know the right questions to ask a victim. Don’t stress, okay? I’ve been looking out for you two since your mother…” She didn’t say, Fell victim to a plague and left you as orphans. That was unspoken history by now. Including the part that made Aunt Sno technically the twins’ sister.

Lulu fixed up some snackabobs that would distract Koko. They were all used to Sno’s lines of questioning and knew all her tells by now. Keeping Koko from picking up those lines was part of her job at this point. All part of protecting Koko from what felt really, really hinky and gross.

*

Koko felt like he could fly. Sazed loved him and wanted to share him with the world. Show everyone how beautiful Koko was.

It was like a game. Wear this, pose like that. He got to wear makeup and had people styling his hair and he felt like a superstar and, after a particularly good shot, Sazed would kiss him and it felt like magic.

Which was why it was such a shock when Aunt Sno burst into the studio with a whole dang task force. Some of them landed on Sazed. Some of them landed on the hair and makeup people. One of them wrapped Koko up in a big cloak and took him out of the building and into a counselling room.

That was when he felt like an idiot because they showed him what Sazed had been doing. For every artistic shot that Sazed showed Koko, there were like twenty that were…

Gross…

Pornographic.

They even read out and interpreted the contracts that Sazed said were ‘boilerplate’. They were gross consent forms to acquiesce to ownership. They were illegal, of course, but Sazed could have used them at a later time to make Koko think that he was property.

All of which would be evidence in court.

Koko didn’t know when his family turned up, but gods, he was glad they were there. Moms and twin sister clustered around and held him safe as he sobbed. He spent what felt like forever repeating, “I loved him…” over and over.

He’d never questioned why the artists working on him were all older men. He’d never wondered about any of the poses or the wardrobe or… anything.

“You were right,” he finally murmured to Lulu. “I’m an idiot.”

“I’m sorry I said that Koko,” she said. “You’re not an idiot just ‘cause some nasty old man had you fooled. He said things you wanted to hear. He was running a con.”

When Sazed came down, he was in handcuffs, and bruises were on his face and arms. He’d been stupid enough to try and fight his way out.

Koko had a good run-up, and kneed him square in the crotch. “YOU ASSHOLE! YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!”

“That’s assault,” said someone in the periphery.

“I didn’t see anything,” Aunt Sno glared at the speaker. “And neither did you.”

The gigantic ass had poisoned him against any kind of love in his future. He had to be careful and wary about anyone he liked from that day on. He couldn’t trust. not outside his family. Not for years.

Aunt Sno provided regular updates. He was in solitary for his own protection. His court date was incrementally delayed because they had to find a lawyer who even wanted to defend him. Someone shanked him in prison. He was no longer allowed to have cameras.

Koko could feel a little better knowing that that man would spend the rest of his life in a box without touching anyone, eating nothing but pre-packaged food because so many people wanted to kill him and poison looked like the best way to do it.

Sazed would never reach fame. His published photo journals were burned. Only a handful were kept as relics in sealed archives. So that others would learn how to spot anyone like him in the future.

Koko spent a decade dying his hair so that he wouldn’t look like the famous “Angel Sweeping” photo, which was everywhere with, or without context. Waiting for the world to forget him as he grew a shell around his heart and a cynical sting to his world view.

He would never trust anyone who started a conversation about how beautiful he was. Never again.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 8]

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Still Tumbl'd, Still TAZ - Chapter 32 - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]

Trying to be a decent adult is hard.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 8]

Until Agnes was born, Angus only had one weakness: Agatha’s lips. His mighty brain tended to fuzz out in loopy inebriation brought on by sappy infatuation. In brief, the lady had him twitterpated.

Not that he was complaining too hard.

In fact, from all evidence available, he actively sought out the sensation. Which mystefied Taako a little bit because those reporter’s lips managed to fritz that genius noggin right the fuck out.

“Good work today,” said Agatha, standing on her tip toes to smooch Angus’ cheek. “You were brilliant.”

“Hee hee hee hur hur hur,” Angus managed, his dark skin turning ruddier. “Aw tha-a-anks…” He was lost in the giggles until Agatha was well out of the situation room. By the time he recovered his usual verbal capabilities, she could no longer hear his, “I thought you were wonderful.”

“Excellent timing, boychick,” said Taako, oozing sarcasm. “Wowed her right out of her little argyle socks, there.”

“They’re lavender polka-dot mid-calfs, sir.”

“Whatever. You, my little man, need to learn how to talk to her when she’s in the same room or you’ll still be flirting towards each other in your old age.”

“Weren’t you too young to be a grandfather just twenty minutes ago?”

*

There they were. Just inches from his face as they danced together at the Neverwinter Charity Ball. They were playing at being a couple, and he’d been told - repeatedly, pointedly, and often rather forcefully - that they made a really good couple.

It would be so easy to lean those last few inches between them and…

No. He needed his noggin intact for this one. So when he kissed her, he kissed gently by her ear, and imparted some vital information about the scuzzbucket they were tracking.

From there, it was just business. He could deal with business.

Unfortunately for his deepest desires…

*

It had been one hell of a fight. A sewer chase, battle with random underground factions, and finally a last-ditch chase across half of New Halverdale… but they got the asshole.

Agatha leaped into Angus’ arms, fully intending to fuse his brain out like always but… this time… he won the grapple roll.

Dipped her.

And planted one.

Squarely.

Passionately.

Desperately.

On. Her. Lips.

It was like being hit with Feeblemind after a dozen fine wines whilst riding on the Hurlsalot rollercoaster. It was like diving into a box of the worlds’ best chocolates that had no bottom. It was like filling up with stars from toe to tip until she wanted to explode.

She was left even more out of breath than the chase had pulled out of her. Weaker than the run had drained her. More confounded and confused than a butterfly in a windstorm.

She wanted to say, “Been saving that up?” but no intelligible words came out. She could feel the blush filling her face as sound did finally pour out of her.

“Hee hee hee hur hur hur…”

“I’ve wanted to do that for years,” said Angus, also red-faced and giggly. Also filthy, singed around the corners, and effectively wearing rags. “More?”

Agatha said, “Hee hee hee hur hur hur,” and nodded enthusiastically.

Taako, also filthy, singed around the corners, and wearing battle-damaged clothing, sighed and muttered. “Great. Now they’ve both caught it.”

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 9]

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Angus rose to greet the dawn. Some days, he rose to greet the pre-dawn, but most of those were during winter. He loved mornings. The birdsong, the colourful sunrises, the promise of a fresh new day… and of course, greeting all his coworkers in the Bureau of Balance.

The reclaimers shuffled by, headed for breakfast after what looked like an early morning meeting. Madam Director slotted herself into the queue behind Angus, who allowed THB to have early access to anything they needed. First off, because Reclaiming was a really demanding and dangerous job. Secondly, because it was a bad idea to get between Morning Taako and his coffee.

Merle had Taako’s hand on his shoulder, pulling the somnambulistic Elf onwards while Magnus steered him from behind. Together, they piloted Taako towards his first coffee.

It was quite the spectacle. Taako refused to be awake before noon if he could help it, and valiantly attempted to remain asleep during any hour marked with an AM. Thus, he pointedly remained in his footie pyjamas, with his hair in pigtails, and any concession towards wizarding work was in whether or not he wore his gaudy wizarding hat and carried his Umbrastaff. Neither were present today as Magnus guided Taako’s hand towards a big mug, then held the big mug under a stream of night-black coffee until it was two-thirds full.

Next came the part that always amused Angus. Magnus removed a single spoon of sugar from the bowl whilst Merle tipped most of the contents into Taako’s mug. They would then stir for him and throw away the stirrer before Taako’s reflexes made him accidentally stab his own face with the thing.

Sip. Swig. Gulp, gulp, gulp… Taako’s hair frizzed up, causing the braids to lift up as they tightened. Half a cup downed, Taako surfaced into consciousness. “FU-HUCK…”

Too late, Madam Director put her hands over Angus’ ears. “Taako!” she chided. “There’s a child present.”

Taako now had the motive power to top up his cup. “You fuckin’ called th’ gods-damned meeting at fuckin’ five.”

“It’s okay, ma’am,” Angus begun.

The hands remained. “Like it or not, Taako, you’re a role model for this boy…”

“Five. In the. Fuckin’. Morning.” Taako repeated. “I’m’a find who invented it and kick their fuckin’ ass.” Gulp, gulp, gulp… and another top-up.

“I’ve heard all the words before, ma’am,” said Angus.

“You shouldn’t have had to.”

“Five. AY EM. This fuckin’ time of day? All I do is drink coffee and say bad words.” This time, he downed the cup. “Azmodeus’ tits, I need more fuckin’ sleep than this…” He refilled his mug over the caffeinated sugar slurry trapped in the bottom and let Magnus stir for him lest he add even more sugar.

“We’ll feed him the good muffins until he’s got a better attitude,” Magnus promised.

Merle, already on that one, was loading up Taako’s plate with some of the more gourmet selections from the breakfast muffins. “I think he’ll be fine after the fetta, salmon, and olives one. He likes those.”

Angus finally disengaged Madam Director’s hands and said, “You should probably let him sleep later, ma’am. He’s plagued by bad dreams and night terrors.”

This earned him an elegantly sculpted and raised eyebrow. “How do you know?”

“I’m his protege, ma’am. He takes me out on survival lessons. I -uh- hear a lot on those nights.”

She nodded. “I’ll endeavour to keep that in mind.”

Angus had the feeling she’d committed it to memory before he’d even mentioned it.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 6]

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Killian never thought she’d miss the time when the twins were too scared and doubtful to express themselves. She even remembered the day that they felt comfortable enough about their new home to actually fight in front of her.

Now, however…

“Koko, have you seen my hoodie?”

“Noooo…”

Lulu leaned over the back of the couch to glare at her brother. Who was nice and snug in a slightly-oversized red hoodie and relaxing with a book. “You’re wearing it, aren’t you?”

“Prove it.”

That she did, leaning over and yanking the hoodie off over her brother’s head. “Ha! It has an L on the tag! Mine!”

“That’s the brand, goofus, not your initial! Give it!”

“It’s my brand!”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

Killian found the other, identical red hoodie hanging innocently in a closet. She brought it over to the burgeoning fight. “You have exactly the same clothes,” she told them. “Look at this. Does it matter whose is whose?”

Two pairs of mismatched eyes glared at her. On one hand, they weren’t afraid of her any more. On the other hand… they weren’t afraid of her any more. “Yes,” they chorused.

“It’s got all my personal warm on it,” argued Koko. “It’s got rarity value now.”

“Got your stink on it,” countered Lulu. “That makes it devalued.”

“We’re twins. We got the same body stink.”

“Not since I got my parts changed.”

“Do not!”

“All right,” Killian headed that one off. “Chill. Both of you.”

“Easy now I’m freezing my niblets off,” complained Koko.

“Learn to retain your own body heat,” sniped Lulu.

“Okay. Give me that.” Killian gestured for the garment of contention. She’d shuffled garments before and each got them to pick one, but that solution was not working in the long term. Therefore, when she had both hoodies, she took them out of the room.

She didn’t give the twins time to get scared, returning with her own red hoodie. She ballooned it over their surprised heads and snugged both shocked little noggins through the neck.

“Now you get to share one hoodie until you can agree on whose is whose,” she said. “No hopping out of there until you get along.”

The hardest part was not laughing at them as realisation dawned that they had to work together to do anything at all.

Killian expected them to settle for the first coat they could grab, each, and thereby escape their situation. But these were the twins. They never did anything halfway. Inside of an hour, the argument about coats was forgotten in favour of becoming some kind of two-headed beastie and making up a reign of terror over their toys.

Well. One way or another, they were getting along…

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 7]

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La’ming knew something was up when she spotted Koko returning to camp via one of the goat-trails less travelled. Even at a distance, her Elf eyes could see he wasn’t in the greatest shape. Half his braids had come loose and into frizz-balls, making him look like an asymmetrical poodle. The semi-fancy clothes he’d worn out for an evening’s carouse was askew at best and used for improvised medical aid at worst.

He was using his best shirt as a sling.

La’ming gathered some of her better healing herbs and simples as she kept an eye on Koko’s progress. He was a proud kid. He’d only accept help dragging his ass home if he couldn’t do it himself. Thank the gods that Lulu was off on a different mission in a different place with Mak’arune to keep her from setting the entire city on fire.

Next was pretending not to be ready for all of this shit and surprised by his attempted stealthy approach. Late eighties-age Elves were all the same. Ego, ego, ego.

She dropped her pretense at mending when he came into the circle of light cast by her lantern. “Koko! I thought you were out having a night off. Are you hurt?”

He rolled a one on his deception check, not quite straightening up and pretending this was a new look. “No,” he said. “I’m fine…” He attempted to stride and came up short, stifling a grunt of pain.

She couldn’t let this pass. One of her babies was hurting. She got up and cupped his face in her hands Gently, of course. “So why are there bruises all over your face?”

Now his trembling ears drooped. Now he let himself shake a little more. Now he let on that he wasn’t as fighting fine as he was pretending. Yet he still had to fake at being a big man. “Little disagreement. Nothing to be fussed over.”

She scooped him up and let him sit on the step, getting some simples and salves that she ‘just happened’ to have ready on the little shelves by the door. Bandages. Lint. Splints. Enough to hold him until the camp Cleric came back from doing their thing. 

“So what was the disagreement, then?”

“I told a dude he was pretty cute and I was available if he wanted and he told me he wasn’t into dudes. With his fists. And five of his friends.”

“Oooch. Yeah, that’d do it.”

“Mmmh.”

She palpated the arm. Yeah. That was a fracture. Not a bad break that had to be reset, thank the gods. Salve. Splint. Winding bandages around his arm. Tight enough to secure but not too tight. “I’m guessing there was some pretty strenuous debate.”

“I would’a had ‘em if that sixth guy hadn’t stepped in with a fucking chair.”

Ow. The desire for vengeance was rising. She’d have to settle for bilking them for everything they had. Later. The fight now was to not cry. Proper sling. See to the cuts and bruises and clean him up in the process. “Then they showed you where they thought you’d have a better time.”

“Pigsty. Yeah. Good thing I bounce, huh?”

She couldn’t take it any more. She dragged him into his arms and wept into his shoulder. “Don’t scare your mom like that, okay? Get out first thing, then see about settling your opinions at a safe distance.”

Slightly whining, “Aw, mo-o-om… it wasn’t that bad…”

“You got hurt,” she sniffled. “Yes it was.”

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 5]

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They’d only been passing through. The town was large enough for an overnight stay, but not big enough to fund a week’s performance. Those who had more portable acts were free to gather what coin they had as the wagons trundled through. Which was why the twins were away from each other when the fire happened.

Lulu didn’t do it, for the record. The old tinker Mad Darmigan made a fatal and effective mistake with his collection of black powder. After that, all the other fireworks in his workshop made everything more complicated for everyone else.

La’ming left the caravan, taking one of the horses, riding pell-mell for where she knew Koko was cooking up a storm from whatever the crowds had to offer. Dry thatch and crumbling wattle-and-daub caught like tinder, and it was an inferno by the time she leaned in the saddle to scoop up Koko in one arm.

She tried to find Lulu. She really did.

The fires were too hot. Upper stories were falling into the streets. The only choice was to flee. Save what she could. La’ming kept a guarding arm around Koko’s eyes and let the horse run until it could run no more.

“Lulu? Where’s Lulu?”

She stood in the saddle, trying to find any sign of life in the inferno that had once been a sleepy little mountain town. Trying to see any activity at all in any of the multiple paths out of that town.

She could only see fire, but shielded her heart-son’s eyes anyway.

Despite his ninety-some years, he was starting to cry. “Where’s Lulu? You haven’t said. Where’s Lulu? Is she okay?”

She sat back down and held him close. “I can’t see her. We know where the circus was headed, though. We can make our way there. We’ll know then.”

He tried to put on a brave face. “Well shit. We better get there before Lulu burns it down as we–” his voice cracked. Stopped working.

La’ming let him be weak. She could be strong for him tonight. She could keep the horse walking tonight. They could sleep and rest tomorrow. Pick up all their shattered pieces then.

*

Someone scooped her out of the market square on one of the circus draught horses. Indeed, the poor creature was still dragging their caravan behind it. Mak’arune was at the reins, urging the massive beast on.

Lulu, now sprawled across her lap, didn’t even have time to complain before whistling bursts of colour ignited the surrounding buildings and turned the whole street into the Plane of Fire. She untangled herself quick. “KOKO! Mak’arune, we gotta find my bro!”

Mak’arune held her down with Bigby’s Hand. “I’m looking for him, love, but we’re getting out of here on the way. I’m sorry. There’s no time.”

A burning piece of debris spurred on the horse where the reins would not. pitching them both back in the seat.

There was no sign of Koko anywhere. Just lots of people in a panic.

They were headed to the ford, likely to splash up water and put out any cinders. “No, wait, the ford’s flood–”

Mak’arune wasn’t listening and neither was the horse. They nearly got washed downstream from the rushing water and then, because the horse was still in a panic, nearly tipped off the side of several cliffside curves.

Finally, a combination of exhaustion and decent brakes got them slowed to a walk.

Lulu was up on top of the caravan, shouting for her brother in instants. Smoke had made her voice rough, and she couldn’t call for him more than a few times. The caravan came to a halt in a green field, and Mak’arune clambered up to hold her.

She hadn’t even been aware she was crying until Mak’arune had her in a soothing grasp. Her knees went out and she felt weaker than ever.

“We’ll find him. If we don’t, we’ll find out what happened.”

“I didn’t do it,” she found herself sobbing. “I was just playing music…”

“I know, I know,” Mak’arune cooed. “Ssh… I know, I know.”

“I’m supposed t’ look after ‘im… Thought ‘e’d be okay…”

“I know. We all did. You two are almost adults…” she didn’t say, you keep telling us. Tonight was not a night for the blame game. “We’ll find him when we find the rest of the circus. It’s going to be okay.”

Lulu didn’t want to run an Insight Check that, even though she could hear how badly Mak’arune was at lying. Just for tonight. Let lies be truth. Let the strong be weak.

Tomorrow… Tomorrow, they could start over. Tomorrow, they could pick up the pieces. Tomorrow… she could look for the other half of her heart.

[AN: This pic rises from the grave again. For this one, I’m using an AU that @dualityandsuch and I have been calling Little Domestic. Modern With Magic, and something of an age swap since the twins are 5-6 when La’ming informally adopts them. Duality is working on a comic about how La’ming finds the twins. Pester Encourage her to work on it :D Loads of people we know are in the same rough area.]

Kids should enjoy Midsummer. The dressing up, the games, the carnivals all over the place. There was even a circus downtown that she was going to take the twins to, whether or not they managed to crack a smile. This was their first Midsummer Festival with anything approaching a decent family since they were three and a half. La’ming couldn’t figure out why they were grumpy, pouty, and otherwise out of sorts.

It could be being forced to ride in the trolley like babies. Not that La’ming could trust them to stay close and not get lost in the labyrinth of tall shelves and bargains. Her official reason was that small children had to ride in the trolley so they wouldn’t get stepped on by the larger customers. They didn’t protest, knowing that they were tiny, and were otherwise quiet.

And yet…

The more she tried to interest them in the holiday, the more pouty they got. Red-faced and ears down, their answers more clipped and brusque as their trip went on.

She even went as far as imitating that Tabaxi who was always in others’ business all the time. Not a smirk. Not a chuckle. In fact, she even glimpsed the start of some tears.

La’ming dumped her improvised costume into the trolley and took five deep breaths. “Okay,” she said. “If I tell you I have no idea what’s wrong, will one of you tell me what’s biting you?”

Koko opened his mouth, and Lulu elbowed him, commencing an agitated argument in their Twinspeak. La’ming, used to this, piloted the entire mess to a quiet spot in the hardware section and waited it out.

“Any time you’re ready. What do you want?”

Lulu spoke first, this time. “I want it to just be my birthday for a change!”

Koko nodded solemnly. “We’re sick o’ being told we can’t have cake ‘cause of all the candy we get that night.”

“We’re sick of bein’ told we can’t have two birthdays ‘cause of how Koko was born the day after.”

“We’re sick of being told we’re attention hogs.”

“We’re sick of being told we’re lying for more treats.”

La’ming almost hugged them out of their trolley seats. “Oh, babies…” she sighed. “You can have your birthdays this time, but I like dressing up too much to just give up Midsummer like that. Next year? We have Lulu’s birthday and then go have some Midsummer fun. Sound like a de–” she stopped herself in time. “Sound like a good thing?”

Murmuring, this time, then two identical nods from nearly-identical siblings.

“Good. Let’s get you some birthday cakes.” She started cruising in that direction. “Lulu picks the cake for Midsummer, and Koko picks a cake for the day after. Okay?”

“Those cakes are huge!”

“We’ll never eat them all…”

“They’re bigger than we–”

“–are put together!”

La’ming decided not to call them out on speaking in tandem. It could disturb a lot of people, but this time? This time they needed time to be themselves. “It’s not a good birthday unless you make yourself sick,” she said. “Candy. Included.”

While Lulu was looking over the options, Koko lifted a hand. “C’n I…?”

“Yes?”

“C’n I still wear a costume? I like the pretty rainbow dress.”

“It’s your birthdays, you can do whatever you like,” she said.

Koko leaned forwards to whisper in La’ming’s ear. “Lulu likes dresses, too, but people beat her up for it, so she doesn’t say. She doesn’t wanna say she’s a girl.”

Well. That was an interesting little revelation. Having bathed them, she thought they were both boys… evidently not. She whispered back, “Should I call you both girls or just Lulu?”

“I’m fine with being a boy,” said Koko. “Just… don’t be mean about it?”

Lulu heard and punched him. “Shut up, Koko. I can be whatever whenever.”

“Please don’t hit,” La’ming unfurled Lulu’s fist. “Talk it out, okay?”

“I’m a boy. Everyone says,” said Lulu.

“It’s who you say you are that matters,” La’ming petted Lulu’s hair. “Who do you say you are?”

Lulu returned to a sullen sulk. “Won’t.”

Fair enough. “Did you decide on a cake, at least?”

“Want the chocolate one.”

“Please,” coached La’ming.

“…please…”

She picked one out and added it carefully to the cart. “It is your birthday… you can wear anything you like, go see anything you like, or stay in if that’s your fancy. You can even be anyone you like.” She let that settle in while Koko took his time deciding between the gigantic cherry tart or the extravagant strawberry gateau.

Once he was happy with his choice, it was a slow cruise to pick out silly, flashy outfits. Koko lifted his desired rainbow dress right off the rack and pressed it against his skinny little chest. “See? I’m gonna be fabulous for my birthday and yours. So ner.”

Lulu, apparently wanting to be contrary, pointed to a fire lich costume and said, “I want that one!” And, as an afterthought, added, “Please.”

Koko had somehow snagged a ridiculously gaudy wizard hat and half his face was lost under the brim. If it wasn’t for his ears, his whole head might have gone in.

La’ming lifted it up. “I think this one is for grown-up heads, sweetie.”

“I love it anyway,” argued Koko. “Can I please have it for my birthday?” Baby doe eyes. Her only weakness.

Once again, La’ming had to wonder how these two had wound up in a cardboard box by her apartment block’s dumpster. They were just too adorable to deny too much.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 7]

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There was something odd about Felman Hollo. Mak’arune couldn’t quite put her finger on it for some time. Then she noticed the man making sweet with Lulu just a minute after he’d smooched Koko farewell.

She dithered about it, wondering if it was better that he made the twins happy, or if he didn’t know he was talking to twins, or… or if he was playing with them both. That was the thing that got her confronting him about his life choices.

“I certainly hope you’re not taking any advantages, Master Hollo,” she began.

“Mister,” he corrected, signalling himself as a man of age making sweet with underage kids. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The twins have been through enough in their lives,” she said, giving him the benefit of the doubt for now. “They don’t need a heartbreak before they come of age.” There. That should be enough information for the intelligent sort.

His forged picture of innocence was completely missed by Mak’arune’s Insight Check. “Twins? I had no idea there were twins… How do you tell them apart?”

Not a word about the maturity gap… Odd. Perhaps he was tackling one problem at the time, though something was amiss about his priorities. “You’ve spent enough time looking into their eyes, I would think.”

He laughed, “More like staring at their assets,” he laughed. “Don’t pretend you haven’t. They’re both gorgeous.”

Euw. Gross. “Do us all a favour and let them down gently. You’ve plainly made a mistake in assuming they’re adults and–”

“There’s no mistake in aiming to be their first,” he said. “It’s an experience they’ll remember for the rest of their lives…”

Double gross! At this point, Mr Pithon, La’ming, and several other circus people stepped out from their places amongst the scenery. Mr Pithon loomed to slightly over eight feet tall while the others cracked their knuckles and made ready with improvised weapons.

Mr Kustaad Paafae made a show of his Orb of Recall. “…no mistake in aiming to be their first,” said the tiny image of Felman Hollo within it. “It’s an experience they’ll remember…” he shut it off.

La’ming had her wand out. “Now before you claim this was all a joke… I cast Zone of Truth!” She actually cast Prestidigitation, since she didn’t have that cantrip, but Hollo would experience a tingle as the sparks flew over him.

He didn’t run an Insight Check. “You want the truth? They look like some pretty sweet ass. I’m gonna be the first one they have and take ‘em for everything they can give, and you can’t stop me!” He pulled out a medallion. “Faerun Intelligence Bureau. I tell the Watch what to do.”

There was a moment of intense silence.

“Not when there’s clear evidence of misconduct,” said La’ming, gesturing to the Orb. “Attacking you might be illegal, but filming you on duty isn’t. Neither is showing local authorities the footage.”

“I can have it transcribed to a scroll in a jiffy,” said Mr Paafae. “My wife has Duplicate. I’m sure you know what that means.”

“I can pay you…”

“Never enough,” said Borstok. “Never. Ever. Enough.”

Mak’arune remembered that she had Shocking Touch, and let sparks of lightning play between her fingertips as a warning.

Hollo ran. He did not return.

Mr Pithon relaxed down to a more comfortable six feet in height. “Miss Mak’arune? Ms Ton? I trust you know this means you’re on mop-up duty.”

“We were going to do it anyway,” said La’ming. “They’re my babies.”

“And I’m rather fond of them,” added Mak’arune. The twins would realise in maybe three more days. Plenty enough time to seed their love-addled minds with hints of the bad news.

Maybe even get them to realise they’d nearly been had.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 8]

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Even the twins, fantastic at digging up dirt, couldn’t find anything wrong with Beige Blandish. No skeletons in the closet, no dark secrets. No hideous family lurking in the wings. No racism, no biases, no assumptions, no profiling, no hurtful vices.

Also, nothing interesting about him. His hobby was making miniature flowers out of pencil shavings. He coloured them with watercolours. He was a chartered accountant.[1] He was perfectly nice. Which was pretty much all that could be said about him.

Put together, a man like Beige Blandish was a nil-all win. Everyone agreed that the twins needed someone to temper their reckless spirits - except the twins. Having a decent male role model might even help them out a bit.

Which was why Mak’arune was crying. She told herself that it was natural to cry at weddings. People did it all the time. She could do all this, arranging the venue, the flowers, the dress… because she was very fond of Ms La’ming Ton and would do literally anything to see her happy.

Koko was ring-bearer, walking in pace beside Blandish and looking like he’d rather be spitting rats at a target than there in his powder-blue suit.

Mak’arune covered her tearful gibbering with both hands as La’ming entered. Every inch a Sea Elf. Her dress was in ocean tones with highlights of sea-foam and it looked like the tide was swelling and ebbing with her every step. Pearls and mother-of pearl bedecked her blood-red hair, her ears, her neck, her waist and her wrists. Her bouquet looked like it could have been plucked from an octopus’ garden despite coming from land-based plants.

Beside her, Lulu was in powder pink, scattering petals in a picture of grace only spoiled by the expression on her face. She, too, would much rather be spitting rats than right there and then in this circumstance.

You can’t always get what you want…

She kept telling herself that. She kept telling the twins that. She kept telling anyone who would listen those exact words.

But if you try sometimes, you get what you need.

La’ming needed this. She needed stability. She needed someone staid and sensible who could balance a chequebook without thinking and be reliable and sensible and reasonable and sensible and…

Mak’arune held her breath through the reason for impediment, with the twins glaring at her and making subtle do something! expressions at her. Just for a tiny moment…

…La’ming looked over her shoulder towards her best friend.

But no words were said.

The marriage lasted four years. Four dull, boring, dependable, sensible and reliable years in which Beige Blandish was perfectly nice. Very little else but nice. Even their break up was amicable and without tears. Beige Blandish remained a friend of that odd little family for the rest of his days.

La’Ming’s second marriage, on the other hand…

Mak’arune watched the woman in the mirror as Taako slotted a few final flowers and feathers into her hair. There were no tears this time. No terror, no trepidation, no uneasy creeping cold-vomit sensation crawling up her spine…

“Perfect,” Taako announced. “I couldn’t ask for a better mom.”

Mak’arune turned away from her reflection. “I look like a fashion model ready for the runway.”

“You look amazing,” he reassured. Very carefully, he smeared her lips with a single red berry. For the sweetness to come, according to Elven tradition.

The doors opened. Taako buckled on his shield and drew his sword, leaving an elbow free for her hand.

There she was. Ocean and sea-spray and pearls. Lup at her side with shield and sword as a very ferocious Honour Guard. They were only a hundred and one, the poor dears. Young enough to take their newfound adulthood tremendously seriously. The dress had sparkles of tiny diamantes on it, this time, because it was bad luck to walk down the aisle twice in exactly the same dress.

Mak’arune didn’t keep the staid and steady pace for long. Neither did La’ming. Her ocean dress became a tidal wave of hugs that met her lunar forest in a laughing crash.

The twins only slightly spoiled things with their victory dance and chants of, here we go, here we go, here we go… But everyone who loved the four of them laughed and applauded.

This is the best thing that has ever happened to me…

This was it. This was right. Mak’arune said the words without thinking a whit about them, and it looked like La’ming did exactly the same.

I love you, I need you, I need it, I love… you…

That kiss was the best one worth waiting for, and Lup showered them both with rose petals despite being too old to be the flower girl any more.

Half the circus erupted in cheers and hoots. More than half of them supplied displays of magical fireworks in celebration.

This one? This one was going to stick.

[1] This is not to say that accountantcy is a position naturally lending a worker in it dull and uninteresting. It is to say that it takes a special kind of person to be very interested in tax law throughout history. Or at all.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 9]

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