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murielisbestmountain · 4 years

Note

Regarding your latest post about a Muriel plushie, imagine the Paws and Claws event from Obey Me, but in The Arcana edition 👀 imagine Asra with fox ears and tail, Nadia with lil owl fur framing her face and Muri with BEAR EARS--

Smol oneshots of the Arcana gang dealing with a trickster’s animal-curse.

Arcana x reader - gender neutral apprentice, fluff, shy antics,s cute stuffs, Muriel Bear is our new god.

🦊 Asra 🦊

“Asraaa!” (y/n) calls, walking into the shop with their satchel slung over their shoulder. The familiar scent of the quaint little shop fills their lungs with determination, the warmth of the store sinking into their skin.

“(y/n)! You’re here!” Asra slips out from behind the curtains to the back room, his head wrapped in cloth and his body hidden under a cloak.

“Um...what happened?” The apprentice wonders out loud, gesturing to the clothing choices of the magician. Asra makes the noise similar to that of a deflating water skin.

“We were cursed,” Asra sighs, “Nadia, Julian, Portia, Lucio, Muriel...and me.” Fear sinks into (y/n)’s chest as their eyes wash over the form of their white-haired lover. Seeing their fearful look, Asra raises one hand up and slips off his head scarf to reveal...

Two large white fluffy fox ears.

“Oh my g o d s” the gasp is followed by two soft hands reaching out on instinct to touch the big velvety ears. As soon as their fingers make contact, Asra lets out a loud chorbling sound. Something squirms under the cloak sheilding Asra’s body from the rest of the room. A smirk crosses (y/n)’s lips, unclasping the cloak and letting it fall to the floor.

“Ah!” Asra gasps, blushing as the large fluffy white tail swishes behind him. (y/n) grins, grabbing the tail and giving many pets to the thick fluff. Soft chorbly sounds emit from Asra’s soft lips, his form melting against his housemate.

“Heheheh,” (y/n) giggles, petting their friend’s back. A sly smirk stretches out across Asra’s face, hooking (y/n) around their legs and pinning them to the wall, thighs wrapped around his hips. The magician begins peppering (y/n)’s neck in kisses, listening to them squeak and squirm.

“Hm,” Asra pulls back, grinning at (y/n) with a blush on his cheeks, “Maybe this curse isn’t so bad...”

🦉 Nadia 🦉

Small pitter-patters echo down the halls of the palace as (y/n) races down towards the countess’ private chambers. Having heard of the curse from Asra, the magician’s apprentice was terrified that their lover was taking the curse poorly. Once Nadia’s door is in view, (y/n) can’t help but call out.

“Nadddiaaa!” (y/n) coos, knocking on the door, “Asra sent me....well... not really, I came on my own.” Sighing, the woman inside shifts and carefully opens the door.

Before the young magician stands the beautiful countess, her long hair flowing gracefully down her back and over her....wings. Cute little feathers line the jaw and sideburns of the stunning woman.

“Ah...(y/n)...” Nadia sighs, guiding her lover into the room with one hand, “I’m...sorry you have to see me like this, my darling.” The magician turns, raising their hand up and carefully tracing the jaw of the countess. A soft coo rumbles in Nadia’s throat, her eyes closing in delight.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” (y/n) smiles, slipping their hand down to trace the pristine violet-hued wings folded along Nadia’s back. Two soft arms wrap around (y/n)’s hips, Satrinava’s face burying in the crook of (y/n)’s neck as they pet her wings. The stress of the countess melts away, her tall curvy form melting against the sweet magician.

“Oh my sweet darling,” Nadia coos, squeezing her darling closer and sighing in relief. Two lovers locked in a relaxed embrace, their bodies squeezed together as if to melt them into one being.

“Do you want to lay down, Nadia?” (y/n) pulls back, holding their darling’s hands.

“Yes please.”

The two carefully climb into bed, Nadia pausing to stretch out her lovely wings before gathering (y/n) into her arms. Wings wrap around the two as they curl up in bed together.

“I love you, (y/n)”

“I love you too, birdy.”

🐱 Portia 🐱

Walking towards the lovely cottage, (y/n) gathers the basket of pumpkin bread closer as they continue their quest of comfort for their love. As Portia’s home comes closer, the sound of Pepi beeping loudly becomes alarmingly apparent.

“Portia!!” (y/n) calls out, climbing up onto the porch and knocking on the door, “I brought snacks...” Inside the cottage, Portia can be heard shuffling around before opening the door.

“Hey cutie,” Portia blushes, but of course her darling isn’t paying any attention, choosing to focus instead on the adorable kitty ears twitching on the younger Devorak’s head.

“Aww,” (y/n) coos, slipping into the house, “Baby you look adorable!” Portia’s tail flicks a little in annoyance.

“I know, but don’t tease me because I’m cute,” Portia huffs, crossing her arms and growling a bit.

“But you’re so smol and sweet!” (y/n) giggles, setting their bag and basket down before plopping onto the small woman’s bed.

“Don’t mess with the kitty, (y/n),” Portia coos dangerously, walking closer with her hips swaying ever so slightly, “You might have to tangle with the claws.” A blush coats the magician’s cheeks, their eyes widening as their tiny lover pounces on them. Being pinned under the soft sweetheart causes tremors and palpitations to race through the magician as they squirm.

“P-Portia!” (y/n) squeaks, blushing and melting under Portia’s soft bod.

“I warned ya,” Giggles the pirate woman, a wink causing another wave of blush to race over (y/n)’s cheeks. Portia lays down on top of the magician, peppering (y/n)’s neck with kisses as she purrs loudly. Though the heated kisses slow over time, the shaking of the magician’s fingers do not.

Eventually the purrs are replaced by....snores.

“P-portia?...honey?”

The magician giggles, laying back and catnapping with their darling.

🐇Julian🐇

“Jules!” (y/n) calls, entering Mazelinka’s home with a satchel over their shoulder, snacks for the leech-obsessed man. “Where are you honey?”

Across the home, the sound of a jar tumbling over alerts the young magician, their body turning to see Julian, his coat yanked up to cover the top of my head while he leans casually on the wall.

“Oh hey (Y/n), what brings you here,” A smile pulled across his lips as he tries to hide whatever the curse did to him.

“Asra said you begged me to come help you.” A vicious blush coats Julian’s face as he strands, dragging his coat to cover his eyes. (y/n) approaches, touching the doctor’s wrist lightly in a comforting gesture.

“Mmmm,” Julian whines, slowly pulling his coat off to reveal two lop rabbit ears, their soft brownish-red hue flopping down over his eyes and twitching. A small smile stretches over (y/n)’s lips, hands on their hips as they stare up at the lanky man.

“Do you have a tail too?” the magician asks, moving to hug the doctor.

“No I do-NOT!!!!” Julian’s voice skyrockets in pitch as one of the magician’s hands grabs onto the fluffy tail poking out from Julian’s lower back. (y/n) giggles, pulling back a bit to look up at the poor submissive man.

“Yes you dooo,” they giggle, hugging him tightly and resting their cheek on his collarbone. One floppy ear brushes against (y/n)’s forehead as Julian moves to press a kiss to the top of (y/n)’s head.

“I don’t know why my type is feral magicians,” Huffs the tall Devorak, his pale skin soaked in the red of his blush.

“Thank the gods it is,” (y/n) coos, looking up to nibble on one of the lop ears. Julian grins, scooping up his lover into his arms and dragging them off to the bed to snuggle.

“Of course,” Julian grins, basically throwing himself onto the bed, “Without my taste in beautiful people I wouldn’t have you.” The magician giggles, snuggling up onto the lanky man’s chest and grinning.

“I’m glad you picked me, sweet bun-bun.”

“......”

“Julian?”

“I want...salad.”

🦝 Lucio 🦝

“So basically we’re all animals,” Asra sighs, smoothing back one of his fox ears.

“Why are we outside Lucio’s wing of the palace then?” (y/n) questions, looking at the owl-like Nadia standing to their right. However, before the woman can speak, a shrill cry echos through the air.

“WWWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

“That would be why,” Nadia sighs, rubbing her temples, “You’re the only one who can calm him down...” The magician nods, looking between their former mentor and the countess.

“Can do, guys,” (y/n) smiles, gathering their coat around them before slipping into the door to Lucio’s wing. The hallways, while clean and shining now, are coated in various forms of clutter. Shiny objects from all over the castle are piled in random places.

“MMMM not enough,” Rumbles Lucio, his form hopping off his bed as (y/n) rounds the corner.

“Luci? Honey where are y-” (y/n) is interrupted by being scooped up in Lucio’s arms, his brow firmly furrowed.

“I need to collect,” Grumbles the count, his lip in a pout as he wanders around the room. But being held in the man’s arms gives the young magician a perfect view of the small gray ears poking out from Lucio’s pale golden hair.

“You’re a raccoon,” The younger person gasps, eyes widening as they reach out to tenderly trace the tip of one little ear.

“A-Ah!” Lucio hisses, tossing (y/n) onto the bed dramatically, “No touchy!” The fluffy striped tail poking out from behind his back wiggles a bit in frustration.

“But you’re so cute...”

“I know I am,” The count grumbles, investigating his golden arm with a spiteful glare, “But these new limbs are very sensitive. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to resume collecting valuables.” Lucio looks around the room, taking stock of his collection.

“Then I’ll leave,” (y/n) hums, standing up with a sly look in their eyes.

“No you’re not,” Lucio huffs, putting (y/n) back in the bed and holding them down. A rough kiss is pressed to the magician’s lips, feral growling echoing out of Lucio’s throat. As he pulls away, a prideful smirk coats his face.

“You can’t leave, (y/n), you’re my precious darling.”

🐻 Muriel 🐻

Walking into the woods is always so serene, especially after the affairs of the masquerade. Birds chatter playfully over head, rabbits scatter in the underbrush playfully, and in the distance a deer bounds off towards the horizon.

But the feelings buried deep inside the young magician are those of turmoil and concern. As soon as Asra updated them on the condition of those cursed, (y/n) immediately stormed off to the woods to check on their partner. Muriel was always one to handle these things by just waiting it out, but in recent times it’s best to be close to him when things go wrong. He’s just getting used to not running from these things.

A friendly bark interrupts (y/n)’s thoughts as they approach the hut, Inanna sitting outside with her tail wagging at the speed of sound.

“Hi Nana,” The magician smiles, patting the wolf on the head, “is he in there?” Inanna gives an affirmative yip, leaving (y/n) nodding and heading into the hut.

In the corner, trying to be as small as possible on his bed, is the hulking form of Muriel. His head in his hands and his hood pulled over his face.

“Muri,” (y/n) coos, walking over and sitting down in front of Muriel on the bed.

“H-hi (y/n),” Muriel grumbles, knowing his partner wont leave until they’ve comforted him.

“Can I see your face?” The magician smiles, placing a hand on the man’s knee in a comforting gesture. Muriel slowly looks up, his vibrant green eyes peeking out from under the hood of the cloak.

“Mmm,” the man grumbles, closing his eyes as (y/n) reaches over to slowly tug his hood back.

Two soft-looking dark brown bear ears poke out from Muriel’s messy locks, his face darkening into a vicious blush as he tries to hide his face in his hands. The little ears twitch in embarrassment.

“M-Muri...” (y/n) stammers, heart fluttering aggressively in their chest as the slowly crawl up to his chest, “Oh my gods.”

“Don’t stare at me like that,” Muriel growls, one eye poking out from between his calloused fingers. The magician lifts one hand, tenderly rubbing one of the soft bear ears gently. A pleased grunt comes from Muriel, his arms moving to wrap around (y/n) and hug them close to his chest. The big (bear) hug is warm, soft, and gentle. Endlessly loving in the way he gently rubs (y/n)’s back with the tenderness of a butterfly.

“Muriel,” (y/n) giggles, kissing the blushing barbarian on the cheek and snuggling closer, “You don’t mind if I stay here and nap, do you, Bear?” Muriel smiles, laying back and hugging his comparatively small lover close.

“I want you to stay here, with me...my songbird...”

#the arcana #the arcana x reader #muriel #nadia satrivana #the arcana lucio #the arcana asra #the arcana portia #the arcana julian

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littleshebear · 4 years

Text

Little Bird

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4

AO3 Link

Zavala uncovers the exact circumstances of Amanda's arrival in the City. Amanda makes a visit to the Tower, with permission this time.

Content warning for childhood trauma, parental loss. First half of this is a little heavy.

___________________________

A hunter turned this way and that before shrugging and letting his arms flop to his sides. He shook his head, scanning the landscape. This place used to be an industrial area, it was littered with rusted old machinery and large concrete pipes exposed by years of erosion. There were a few derelict buildings dotted here and there, crumbed into nothing but concrete shells from years of abandonment and neglect. In short, the area was rich with hiding places for this thing that he had been tracking for the last half hour.

“It was right here! Where did it go?”

“Shhhh,” his Ghost hissed. “I still have it on radar. It’s close. Eleven o’clock. About ten feet in front, see that drainage pipe?”

The hunter nodded and drew his side arm. It was only one contact, but whatever it was, it was small but he wouldn’t let this go until he understood what it was. They were too close to the City to be cavalier about this.

“See if this turns out to be a rabbit…” He tailed off, sighing.

“It isn’t. Too big.”

“Dreg?” He asked as he crept forward.

“Too small.”

“Dog?” Whatever this was, it was fast, and almost certainly evading them on purpose. There was purpose in its movements. “Aw, I hope it’s a dog.”

He paused beside the pipe, listening for movement. He sidestepped and dropped down in front of the pipe in one smooth movement, raising his gun at his quarry. When his Ghost’s light fell on his target he gasped and immediately holstered his weapon.

A child cowered at the other end, pressed up against a metal grate choked with vegetation. Her blonde hair was damp and hung limply around her face. She held up one tiny hand to shield her eyes from his Ghost’s light. She was bleeding, the cuts on her fingers suggesting she had been trying, in vain, to shift the metal grid barring her escape.

“It’s just a kid…” He breathed before squatting down to fit into the pipe. He extended a hand toward her. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you. Come out, niñita , it’s all right. Why are you out here all by yourself?”

She swallowed hard and edged forward, shuffling as she went, not taking her eyes off the hunter.

“That’s it,” he beckoned, “Come on, niñita, it’ll be alright.”

She got just within touching distance and dashed forward, ducking under his arm and shoving him to the side with all the force she could muster.

“Hey!” The hunter cried out. He tried to straighten up only to dunt his helmet on the roof of the pipe. “Ow.” He shuffled out awkwardly to see the child running as fast as she could away from him. It was then that he noticed she was missing one shoe, giving her an awkward, loping gait that would have been amusing if the circumstances were different. He ran after her, his longer legs easily closing the distance. He caught her around the waist, only to be met with shrieking and little fists drumming on his arms.

He frantically shooshed her, “ Niñita, niñita, stop! I’m a Guardian, I’m here to help.”

His Ghost swivelled around and dropped down to her eye level. “Please calm down.” She ignored this latest entreaty and tried to wriggle out of the hunter’s arms. “Take off your helmet. She’s afraid, show her your face, let her see you’re human.”

“She’ll make a break for it again.”

His Ghost sighed and dipped his spines. “I’ll transmat it to the ship.” The Hunter’s helmet disappeared with a whooshing sound and he risked loosening his grip enough to turn her around to face him. He hunkered down to her level and smiled.

“There, see? Look, I’m human, I’m not going to hurt you, you’re gonna be okay.” She kept tugging backward and away from him until he said, “I’ll take you home, I’ll take you to The City, it’s not far.”

She stilled, finally looking him in the eye. She didn’t speak, her heavy, uneven breathing being the only sound she made.

The hunter nodded encouragingly, “That’s right, The City. Is your family there?”

She shook her head and managed to wrench one arm free, which she used to wipe her running nose on her sleeve.

“Then where are they? Why are you all by yourself?”

She set her lips into a thin line and swallowed hard before speaking. “How far is it? The City?” The words emerged thin and strangulated, something between a hiss and a squeak.

“Not far,” he shrugged, “few hours by sparrow.”

She took a sharp, deep breath and screwed her eyes tightly shut as tears spilled over and left clean streaks through the dirt on her face. When she exhaled it came out as an ear-splitting scream that seemed to go on forever.

The Ghost shied backwards while the Hunter pulled her into a hug, muffling her next wail against his shoulder.

“Turn it off.” Zavala rises from his seat and turns his back on the Ghost who was projecting the recording of the day he and his Guardian found Amanda in the wilds. He stares out his office window across the City, working a muscle in his jaw as he processes what he’s just seen.

“Did we do something wrong?”

Zavala turns back around to face the Hunter, who’s perched on the edge of a chair on the other side of the desk. Cayde had told him which of his scouts to speak to about the circumstances of Amanda’s arrival in the City.

“Did we handle that badly? Is that why we’re here?” Ramos continues. Zavala can see why this man would struggle with a game of deception. His emotions are writ large in his behaviour. The scout looks up at Zavala with large, brown spaniel eyes, his brows knit together. He had taken off his gloves half way through his Ghost’s recounting of that day’s events and he grips them tightly in his lap, worrying them and turning them this way and that in his hands.

“I checked the records. Ramos, that’s your man. Good guy, great scout, terrible poker player,” Cayde had told him. For once, he’d had the good grace not to pry too deeply about why Zavala was so interested in this particular scout report. Zavala must have looked even more serious than usual.

“No,” Zavala assures him. “No, you’re to be commended, both of you.” He manages to muster a sad smile.

Ramos breathes out but still fidgets with his gloves. “Oh. Thank you Commander.” He manages to muster a lop-sided smile. “When you’re a Hunter and you get summoned to the Titan Vanguard you just assume, you know. Not that I’m saying you’re a hard ass, I mean, it’s just-

“Ramos. It’s fine. Relax, before you strain something.”

“Yes sir,” Ramos mumbles, setting back into his chair.

“What happened next?” Zavala sits down, rests his elbows on his desk and threads his fingers together.

“Nothing I didn’t cover in the report. She quieted down not long after, all cried out, I guess. I took her to a hospital to get her checked out.”

“Did she say anything?”

Ramos shakes his head. “Not really. She said she was sorry a couple times.”

“What was she sorry about?”

“She didn’t say, and honestly, Sir,” Ramos tips his head to the side and shrugs, “I didn’t want to push her.” He takes a deep breath before speaking again. “I went back out and scouted the area. I found a battle site, fairly fresh. Few burned out vehicles, some overturned supply crates. No survivors. No bodies.”

Zavala closes his eyes. “How long do you think she was alone for?”

“Hard to say, she couldn’t have lasted that long, alone. A day, maybe two? She was really good at hiding though, bless her. Gave us the runaround.” A heavy silence falls between them. Ramos picks at a loose thread on his gauntlets. “Her feet were bleeding.”

Zavala opens his eyes again, while the Hunter just stares glumly at his lap. “You did well Ramos. She’s alive because of you. Be proud.”

He mumbles a thank you, then looks worried again. “Why are you asking me about this now? Did something happen to her, is she okay?”

“She will be. She’s doing remarkably well all things considered.”

“Do you think,” he falters, then rallies, “Do you think I could go see her maybe? Just say hi?”

“In time, perhaps. For now, she’s a little fragile, I think.”

“Right, right.” He nods, his understanding not counter-acting his disappointment. “Was there anything else, sir?”

“No, thank you for coming in, you’re dismissed.” Ramos rises to leave. “If,” Zavala interrupts, “If you need to talk to someone about what happened, I can help with that.”

Ramos frowns, “I just talked to you about it.”

Zavala smiles softly, “No, I mean, talk to someone in a professional capacity. Counselling.”

“Oh…” Ramos says, comprehension dawning across his face. “You mean like a Talk -talk. That might be good.”

“I’ll have my Ghost send you some names.” He makes a show of sorting through some paperwork on his desk until Ramos leaves then slumps back in his chair. He sits in silent contemplation, staring at the ceiling, wondering what to do with this information. He almost doesn’t notice when Izanami appears beside him.

“I was relieved when you took a posting in the City,” his Ghost says gently, “I thought it would mean you wouldn’t have to see things like that again.”

“You think I should close my eyes to what happens outside the walls?”

“Of course not, nor do I think you would.” She bumps her shell against his shoulder, the tips of her spines tapping on the metal armour there. “But I reserve the right to worry about you.”

He holds his hand out for her to settle in his palm, almost a reflex after all these years with her by his side. “I needed to know. I knew it wouldn’t be pleasant. No wonder she doesn’t feel safe. They were so close. She went through all that to get to this City,” he sighs deeply before continuing, “And it’s failing her.”

“I keep telling you Zavala. You can’t save all of them.”

“No,” he concedes, “But I can try and save this one.”

While she can accept that a school trip to the Tower is a good deal more exciting than an average school day, Amanda allows herself a degree of smugness. As she trooped in with her schoolmates, all of them clad in garish luminous jackets, accompanied by their teacher and a few more adult minders, she thought back to her hangar misadventure. In comparison to sneaking into the hangar, alone, this is old-hat to her. Positively pedestrian. She must admit though, the man currently speaking to them is fascinating. She wonders where he got that helmet from and where its missing horn went.

“So, in conclusion, adversity breeds strength!” Shaxx exclaims, slamming a huge fist into his open palm as he addresses the group of children from the orphanage. They stare up at him, slack-jawed and necks craned. “Never regret mistakes, it’s how you learn. Follow your dreams! Be bold, take risks! I’ve heard so many Guardians complain about getting exploded from grenades,” He snorts, “The explosion isn’t the thing to focus on, it’s the getting up and carrying on. I get exploded all the time!” He pauses in his speech when he hears their teacher pointedly clear her throat. She subtly shakes her head at him, eyes wide and pleading. A few seconds of awkward silence pass before he points down to the rapt school party in front of him and states, “But stay in school! Listen to your teachers. Any questions? Yes you, blonde girl.”

“Why does your helmet only got one horn?” Asks Amanda.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older. Anyone else? You!” He points to a girl towards the back of the group. “Fierce-looking lass with the pigtails.”

“What are those bones up there?”

“Ahamkara, wish dragon. Dangerous beasts, I killed this one,” he replies, inclining his head in appreciation of the chorus of ‘wows’ and gasps that ripple through the group.

“Can we fight in the Crucible?” Asks one eager lad, not waiting for permission to speak despite sticking his hand in the air.

Shaxx throws his head back and laughs, his shoulders heaving. “Of course not. You’re only children.”

“What about when we’re older?”

He stops laughing abruptly and shakes his head. “No. Seriously, no. Guardians only.”

“But you said-“

“All right children, I think we’ve taken up enough of Lord Shaxx’s valuable time. Let’s all thank him and move on,” their teacher interjects breathlessly. “Commander Zavala very kindly offered us to have a look at the Vanguard Hall, won’t that be exciting? Don’t wander off, do as the tour frame says and don’t touch anything.”

Shaxx places his hands on his hips and nods to each pair of children as they pass by, not noticing the look of relief on the teacher and escort’s faces as they leave.

“How was that Arcite?” Shaxx calls across the corridor to his frame companion. “I thought that went well.”

“Very well my Lord! Inspiring!”

Shaxx gives a self-satisfied nod. “I think so too.”

Ikora glances up from her studies as the children troop in, two by two. She scowls, unable to drown out the excited chatter of children and the droning of the guide Frame explaining the history and purpose of the Vanguard Hall.

“I can’t believe you agreed to this,” she says to Zavala through clenched teeth. “I feel like I’m in a zoo.”

“I didn’t agree to it,” Zavala replies, drawing himself up and placing his hands behind his back. “I suggested it. I want them to feel like they have a stake in the City, so I want them to see how we protect them, that we value them. This makes it less abstract for them. They might feel more secure if they actually see us at work.”

“Guardian/Civilian relations? I thought that’s what Cayde’s sports day nonsense was for.”

“Nonsense? Cayde protests. “Dodgeball is a noble endeavour, I’ll have you know.”

“The purpose of this exercise is two-fold.” Zavala continues, ignoring Cayde’s indignation. “Framing this visit as educational, as school-work also means they might be more inclined to find this place boring and not sneak up here. I want to take away the Tower’s mystique.”

“Playing some three-dimensional chess there,” Says Cayde, “That’s strategy. Two birds, one stone. See Ikora? That’s why he’s Commander, we need to get on his level.”

“Just promise this won’t be a frequent occurrence,” Ikora sighs.

“We’ll see how this turns out then-“

“Psst! Commander!”

Zavala turns to find the source of the hissed interruption; a grinning Amanda Holliday, her chin resting on one of the railings surrounding the upper level of the hall. One of her pants pockets bulges out sideways, with a little scrap of luminous fabric spilling out. If only those high visibility jackets were harder to take off and not so easy to conceal.

“Amanda, what are you doing?” He demands.

“Hi!” She waves, excited and oblivious. “Didja get my letter?”

“I did. Apology accepted, now get back to your classmates before you feel the need to write me another apology. Do you want this to turn into another hangar incident?”

“Hey!” Cayde calls across the table. “You got me in trouble for that, how come I didn’t get an apology?”

“No I didn’t. I didn’t rat you out,” Amanda responds, using the railing to pull herself up onto her tiptoes.

“You told me you were waiting on your mom!”

“I said she was an engineer, and she was. I never actually said she was in the hangar.”

“So, a child has broken away from the group, Cayde is losing an argument to said child…” Ikora shoots a lopsided smile at Zavala, who has taken to pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Has the Tower’s mystique been sufficiently dispelled?”

“Cayde, let this be an object lesson in not making assumptions,” Zavala announces, blocking out Ikora’s teasing. “And Amanda Holliday, please get back to your group.”

“Are those guns?” Amanda drops down to her haunches and cocks her head to the side to get a better look outside the window at the end of the Hall. “They’re huge!”

“Anti-aircraft cannon,” Cayde says, gleefully. “In case any Fallen Ketches get too close. Aren’t they great?”

“Yeah! How do they work? How did you get them up there?” Exclaims Amanda. “You gonna fire ‘em?”

“Obviously not-“ begins Ikora.

Zavala glares at each of them in turn. “Ikora, I will handle this. Cayde, do not encourage her. Amanda, Get back to your classmates and I shall consider it,”

“Yes Sir!” Amanda hops to her feet, waves frantically then makes her way back to the group, expertly weaving her way around frames, furniture and civilian workers to hide herself from her classmates and school staff.

Ikora watches her progress across the hall and smiles softly. “One has to admire her ability to avoid being seen unless she wills it.”

“Indeed. It’s a survival technique,” Zavala mutters, almost to himself. He bunches his fists and leans on the table for a few moments, before pushing himself up by his knuckles. “Mr. Jiang. I believe the defence cannon are due for a test fire?”

The City Forces soldier Zavala had called upon stares at him for a second, glances at the tablet in his hand, then back to Zavala. “I don’t think so, Sir? Not for a couple weeks?”

“We’re due.” Zavala assures him. He raises his voice to address the children at the other end of the Hall. “We are about to conduct an ordinance test. Nothing to be alarmed about. Cover your ears please.”

The Frame escorting the children looks as confused as a humanoid robot can, then reassures the children not to worry. The children for their part, clamp their hands over their ears, snap to attention and train their eyes on the window at the end of the hall.

Jiang sounds out a countdown to fire. When he reaches zero, the floor under their feet vibrates and there’s a muffled boom from outside the room.

Zavala looks up at the children, half expecting fear. They wait for the vibrations to subside before erupting into cheers and applause.

He breaks into a smile, a rare, public indulgence as he looks up and makes eye contact with Amanda. He may not have broken the mystique of the Tower, he can’t say if this made her feel safer but as he watches her clap and jump up and down on the spot, he knows it was worth it.

“You getting broody, Zav?” Cayde asks, following his gaze.

“Nonsense, Cayde.” Zavala looks away from Amanda and turns his attention to Jiang. “Targeting telemetry on my desk by tomorrow, yes?”

“Yes sir,” Jiang replies hesitantly. “So…am I to reschedule the…scheduled test, sir?”

Zavala, nods slowly. “Yes, you’re clear to reschedule, assuming everything is within parameters.” He briefly raises his hand to Amanda, who waves back at him as she and the other children retreat through the doorway.

“Yeah, you’re not fooling anyone,” says Cayde. “That’s it, I’m roping you in to help with the next dodgeball match.”

“I’m busy,” Zavala counters, dropping his gaze to watch a live patrol feed coming through on his tablet.

“I haven’t even decided on a date yet!”

“I’ll think of something.”

____________________

A/N: Full disclosure, "I get exploded all the time," isn't something I came up with, it's in-game dialogue but I love it too much.

Ever since Forsaken dropped, I couldn't stop thinking about Amanda describing how she lost her parents. Losing her dad that close to the city was just too heartbreaking to handwave away. As upsetting as it is, I didn't think I could properly tackle her as a character but ignore that aspect of her past.

#Destiny fanfiction #My writing #Amanda Holliday #Commander Zavala #kidfic #Zavala

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bonnie-and-cloud · 5 years

Note

Hi! First off I love your post . And your bunnies are adorbale . Do you have any tips on a person thinking of getting a bunny?

I don't know when this was sent @fulltoadpicklemuffin so sorry if this is late. I've also taken my time to give you a thoughtful, thorough reply

ALSO HEADS UP THAT I'M ON MOBILE WITH NO ACCESS TO A CUT SO I'M SORRY

So I did a full year of research before getting my girls. I was living on a college campus where animals were banned except for goldfish and other small tank animals, emotional support animals, and service animals. I was in an apartment so I had plenty of space for a rabbit or two but we also had a school policy where we could have a surprise inspection at any point in time. We weren't even allowed to have friends who had pets come into our spaces even to pick us up it was so strict. It was pretty strictly enforced too

I also wasn't working because my mother promised me that so long as I focused on my studies, I wouldn't have to get a job. She paid for textbooks, groceries, my phone, medical expenses including meds, and so on. She helped me get a car and did a lot of heavy lifting. Meaning that between that, being disabled, and the school policy it didn't make sense to even sneak a bun

Well, I only needed one class for my last semester meaning I lost campus housing eligibility so I'd have to pay the campus something stupid like two grand a month to stay there. We moved to a temporary apartment and didn't say anything but like they didn't do inspections like campus did so whatever

So that's part of why I did a whole year of research. I made triple sure to know their proper diet, switching foods, and so on. I was very careful about them playing only with Approved Bunny Toys and didn't even have a cage for either of them at first as they were in an 8x8 closet with limited access to roam our room. Between that and my research, I have plenty of advice and it'll be stuff you won't necessarily hear from other people

IT DOESN'T MATTER IF YOU ADOPT FROM A BREEDER, SHOP AT A STORE, OR GET A RESCUE

At the end of the day, a bun got a home that otherwise might not have. And that's more important, to me at least, than other factors. I don't recommend getting a pet store bunno because they are horribly mistreated but you do you. I won't judge either way on that one. I got my girls directly from a reputable breeder

I do recommend different methods for different needs, ability, and whatnot. I had never owned a rabbit before so I had no idea what the baseline for bun behaviors were. I didn't know how destructive they were prone to be had they not been traumatized via abandonment or abuse or whatever. I had no idea the difference between a happy loaf versus a grumpy loaf. I didn't know a happy flop from a passive aggressive one and no amount of reading up on these things or YouTube videos was going to really show me unless I saw them with my own eyes

Not to mention, buns take a long time to get comfortable with you just in general. Bonnie and Cloud took almost two months before they were cool enough with me to cuddle me on my bed. I remember crying thinking they hated me with no idea they were bonding to me very quickly. It would have been even longer with a rescue and I might have sincerely thought I was a bad bun parent and given up on buns entirely

So, for new bun parents, I recommend getting from a reputable breeder two bun siblings of the same gender from the same litter like I did. Not only do you get a better baseline for behavior, you genuinely get to see a lot of things you wouldn't from other bonded pairs. Like these two fight over the same scrap of broccoli when there's a little pile beside them that either of them could choose from. They also play "pranks" on each other like sneaking up on each other, giving surprise boops, and running away. They make WAY more vocalizations than your average rabbit and can easily be mistaken for guinea pigs with their noises. Both in the type of vocalizations but also with how loud they can get. They act very similarly to human siblings

I say reputable breeder for obvious reasons. I contacted a breeder who was willing to promise me 4 week old buns which was a big fat no from me. There was no way they'd be completely weaned let alone emotionally ok with leaving their nest. When he said 4 weeks, I just hard blocked his number. Our breeder gave us ours at 6 or 8 weeks (I forget which) because they were ready. She even texted us saying they were ready to leave their parents earlier than she expected and gave us the option of waiting a couple more weeks to be double sure

So we could tell she knew her stuff and was reputable on top of her sending pictures of her setup and their pedigrees. She sent stuff shows care about too so it wasn't just x parent or whatever like she had genotypes back to their great grandparents which she herself had raised and had pedigrees for. We went ahead and got them early because I was so eager to meet them

My spouses and I have discussed adding two more to the mix but we're going to wait a bit. We're going to look into guinea pigs first and then if we still want two more bunnos, we'll cross that bridge when we get there. But, we'll almost definitely get from a reputable breeder again

As I've had my hip replaced, I can only handle creatures up to a certain weight. After my surgery, our roommate's cat jumped on my leg and opened my surgery wound. I won't get too graphic with it but it opened clear to my metal replacement and she wasn't even that large of a breed. Well, as far as my experience goes, the smallest buns get homes first because they're "cuter" due to their size. Holland lops go especially quickly because of how sweet and friendly they are. And I have needs

There are plenty of other bun parents who get all "well having a creature is a privilege not a right" about this and insist I shouldn't have a bun if I'm going to a breeder. These people can eat me. I have depression and meds and therapy only get you so far. Without these guys, I'd only leave my bed to use the bathroom or run errands. I know because that's where I was prior to them. I also can't have children so I need something to pour my love into or I'll hurt myself. I know that sounds weird or whatever but I shouldn't have to tell other bun owners, or anyone really, "without tiny fur children to love, cherish, protect, and provide for, I'll definitely kill myself" because like. None of their business

Not to mention, there's the question of bonding buns which takes time and a lot of effort. So even if we could get a couple rescue small buns, would they bond to the kids we have already. Rinse and repeat. Only one of us can drive so it's not like we have that much time available to bond either. It's faster, less stressful, and less time consuming for everybody involved to just adopt two babies from a reputable breeder

I say all my reasons why not to be all "breeder all the way!" because that's not where I'm coming from. I'm trying to illustrate why that might be a better option. Someone else may have to drive several hours out of the way to adopt and there is a perfectly good and cute bunno in need of a loving, happy home at a pet shop a street away. Whatever the case, so long as buns that exist get proper homes, I don't care. It's more important to me that buns aren't mistreated

ALL THAT SAID, time to move onto some quicker advice

Get a cage for each of your buns. We got those big ones that go for like 120 a piece or whatever at Petsmart. The big open trays with the wire sides and the side door. This gives them a comfy place to flop so they can nap in whatever hay you put. This will also keep them confined after they get fixed so you're not worrying about an expen or whatever else

THIS SHOULD NOT BE THEIR PRIMARY HOUSING. Now I understand if you can't free roam your buns. Not everyone has the space or living conditions. Frankly, we would put them in separate cages before bed, and release them when we woke up so they were in there 8ish hours. Mostly it was so they got some rest but also to keep them out of mischief while we slept. They turned into more of very large litter boxes over time and have only really functioned as cages post spay or when one (usually Cloud) was being destructive or bitchy and redirection and distraction weren't working so she needed a time out to calm down

Now that we've moved into half of a duplex with three whole separate rooms, an enormous front room, and so on, they're just very large litterboxes/hangout spaces. One will eventually be downstairs so they can be close to us while we do things and the other will be in our bedroom so they're shut with us at night. This is so they spend more time roaming during the day and don't get fat from being lazy babies

Now I won't Totally judge if anyone has an outdoor hutch so long as it's plenty of room and bunnos come in during extreme weather. It's not the safest but like I get it

GI stasis is going to happen. Don't freak out. Yes, it CAN kill bunnies but only if you're not doing what you should. We give ours 80% hay/wood sorrel/grass, 10ish greens/salad, 10ish pellets with a bit of wiggle room for treats. The wood sorrel (commonly called clover across the US) and grass are rare treats but they eat enough to basically replace their hay when they get it. Occasional treats are I'm eating strawberries and they get the tops or the ends of carrots when we're cooking dinner. Sometimes they get Legit pet store treats but these are rare

We see GI signs most often when they're shedding and it's because they're ingesting fur so their poop does the connected string thingy that's the first sign of GI stasis. We also have seen it every time after a move because they've been too stressed to eat enough hay so we up their pellets and greens during that time to compensate. The only other times were when we switched them from alfalfa as babies to Timothy as adults and when they were fixed

A good way to combat this is a product the Hook's Holland Lops lady recommends on her channel. They're digestive tablets made with papaya, ginger, pineapple, peppercorns, banana, and so on. It's all organic and one tablet contains a MINIMUM of 2% crude protein, 15% crude fiber, 0.5% crude fat. A tablet contains a MAXIMUM of 4% moisture, and 0.2 grams of fruit sugar. For mild cases, one tablet every day until they're in the clear is just fine but for a severe case, use one tablet per pound of bun body weight. This should be broken up from one feeding to throughout the day though so it doesn't screw up their systems

How I do it is twice a day because my babies are so small at 4ish lbs and 6ish lbs. They're actually 3.5 and 5.5 but it's easier to just say 4 and 6. I'll give Cloud 2 in the morning and 2 in the evening, and Bonnie 3 at both times. I've only had to do that after their spay. The worst their GI symptoms have ever been, they each needed one tablet twice a day. Now, if either were, say, 12 pounds. I'd split that into 3 tablets 4 times a day or 2 tablets 6 times a day

This has kept them from needing an emergency vet thus far. They've never had hard guts and their weird poops haven't ever lasted too terribly long either. Just keep an eye on how much they're drinking, how much hay they're eating, and so on

Bunnies shed WAAAAY more than you think and nobody can possibly prepare you for it. Literally, every time I go to comb or pluck or otherwise groom either of them, I end up with a pile of fur that is at LEAST as large as they are if not twice or three times as big. And I still have to groom their sides like I've only just cleared their backs

They shed so much that the poor babies were having sneezing fits. We checked their noses and no snuffles. So you'll need to vaccuum to try and keep that down. But like they will leave it on you worse than cats and they shed twice a year, roughly each spring and fall

LISTEN to your buns. Are they abnormally skittish around your new roommate? Keep an eye on that person the same way you would if your dog or cat were abnormally skittish. I promise you they aren't a good person. At the very least, they aren't very good for you and you shouldn't trust them around your buns. They don't want your new partner to pet them? Run the other way. Or at least remember it. My babies have let me know ahead of time when someone or some place is bad news

Not just this, they'll let you know when they're not happy. Whether that's their hay, their bedding, if the carpet feels weird. Listen to them. You'll be around after them but they only have you so make them as happy as you can

Bunnies are deceptively stupid. Now, I know some bun parents who are like "how dare you insult such majestic creatures" when like I ASSURE you, Karen, that Oreo there has nothing going on in his head beside "mmmm monch" when he sees your baseboards. Like they're definitely smarter when fixed because hormones aren't flooding their tiny brains but they're still super dumb and governed by instincts

That isn't to say they have absolutely nothing going on upstairs because that's a lie. They are smart enough to recognize routines and wake you up for stuff, bother you if something is upsetting them. They're about as intelligent as toddlers? If that makes any sense. Like toddlers aren't geniuses by any stretch of the imagination, they're still smart. Like they're tiny little dumbasses ruled by "am hunger so must eat" and so on. So if you act like you've got tiny toddlers with soft fur then you're pretty gold

Also, they like to watch TV. Cloud likes MLP and other animal cartoons like Looney Toons. Bonnie likes dramatic stuff with explosions and her favorite thing is YGO. So like :/ toddlers :/

Bunnies are more expensive than you think but they don't have to break the bank. Bunnies are the most expensive pet I've ever had but I've also only ever had dogs and roommates with cats. Hay can be pretty expensive, plus salad, treats, and that's just food. You also have to take into consideration litter boxes, damage costs, and so on

To cut down on hay, we buy a 75 lbs bale from Tractor Supply for about $15 that lasts quite a few months. Depending on how we use it, it can go as quickly as 3 months because they pee on it (which means mold flakes) or as long as over 6 if rationed appropriately in old pet shop hay bags. Then, we buy fresh stuff in season and take advantage of sales and coupons. Sometimes, we don't give a salad if finances are tight enough but they will always get hay and pellets. We also buy pellets in bulk for cheaper and bought a Brita pitcher for like 20 bucks or so so they get filtered water no matter how hard the water is for much cheaper than water bottles

Get a portable pen for hay like the one here. It helps contain mess a LOT. Like hay is gonna get everywhere, obviously, but if you do the bale like we do, it's super helpful and keeps the mess pretty well contained. On that note, I highly recommend a shop vac which the type of vaccuum wood shops, car repair places, and construction sites tend to use. I just linked an example so you know what you're looking for but get a hose that's at least 1.5 inches in diameter. Ours is close to 2 inches but you need the wide diameter so you can vacuum fur and hay without creating clog issues like a regular vaccuum. Capacity doesn't matter so much as hose size and ours cost us something like $60

Your buns will inevitably eat something they shouldn't. Depending on what it is and how much, your reaction should change. Your bun nosed their way into the trash and got the little chip crumbs at the bottom of a snack bag? Eh they'll be fine. If it's something that's dangerous like plastic or a poisonous food then you should contact your emergency vet. But Cloud has ABSOLUTELY snatched chips and bits of coke from a straw or two and we always have to fight her to stay away from our chips. I have a friend who has a bun who assaults her for pancakes. Like it's fine

Even after you have buns, keep researching. When it was stupid hot and I was worried, I looked up what to do to help keep them cool. When I was worried how much Bonnie was shedding, I asked my discord group. When I'm not sure about a food, I hit up Google

And I think that's it? At least that's all off the top of my head of stuff I wish I'd known going in regarding buns that I didn't see anyone else talking about. Feel free to hit me up with more specific questions!

#mod vann #asks #ask post #vannswers #bunnies #advice #bunny advice #links #long post #text heavy #suicide mention

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raphiot · 5 years

Text

The Little Lop-eared Lady

How does that crazy old lady make a mess like this, day after day? It’s like she runs around the building tossing shit everywhere, giggling about how funny it’ll be when she orders us to clean it up.

I had cleaned the kitchen, the guest room and the hallway. My dress was dirt-black. I’d already smoked three cigarettes and it wasn’t even noon yet. It’s a never ending job keeping up with the crone who lives in this dump, not to mention thankless—how has Ethel put up with this for so long? How has she kept from having a nervous breakdown and stabbing that slavedriver to death?

Beatrix Potter, the loony Lunarian that lords over this little witch’s house. Oh, she acts nice enough—candies peaches for us, made Ethel a nice necklace, has only ever joked about cutting off our feet to make luck charms once or twice—but I see through the facade. That snide, smug, self-satisfied smile. The way she wears her hair in that careless, sloppy bun. The way she holes herself up in her room for days at a time without a word. She’s a self-absorbed, slave driving sponge, leeching off our labor while she lies around and barks orders.

It’s always, ‘You left cigarette butts on the dining table, Matilda,’ or ‘Don’t leave your dirty plate sitting on the veranda after lunch, Matilda,’ or ‘Could you go to the market and fetch some milk since you drank the last of the gallon, Matilda.’ Lazy old bat! Won’t do a damn thing herself! Makes me sick!

“Matilda? Didst thee drop some heavy thing? I heard a banging sound, come from beyond the balcony door,” snaked the muffled, lecherous voice of the Lunarian woman, feigning concern from inside the building.

“I, ah, everything’s fine,” I replied quickly; I had absentmindedly been stomping the ground in my very rightful anger. Thinking fast, I added, “I tripped over one of the flower pots you leave out here. Real dangerous, leavin’ ‘em sitting next to the side ramp. Lucky I caught myself. I could’ve gotten hurt if I fell.”

“Oh, truly? I did hope the ivy might benefit from direct sunlight. Mayhap you are right—do bring them inside, then, wouldst you?”

Gritting my teeth and grumbling, I squatted down to lift one of the oversized plant pots, digging my thumbs into the potted dirt. She grows so many plants here. Fruits and vegetables and all kinds of flowers. I gotta wonder, is it because she’s so disconnected from life and death that she feels a need to watch it all the time, just so she remembers what it is?

Not long after Ethel signed me up for her little lunar coven, I tried asking. Why all these little projects? ‘The fruit of the mind rots eternal,’ she’d pretentiously yarn. Just how old is she, anyway? ‘Old enough to remember, but young enough to forget,’ whatever that meant. If she can’t die, does she really need to eat or sleep? ‘Please just help your sister prepare supper like I asked,’ she ordered, before rudely leaving the room.

Between the ivy leaves scratching my nose, there was a bright light coming from the sidewalk, like someone was holding up a mirror and reflecting the sun. Annoying—as if I didn’t already have enough to put up with, some goddamn hobo was trying to blind me. I put the pot down and raised my fist to yell at them, but whoever it was had already run off.

I set the pot down just inside the door and scanned the room for lurking eyeballs. The moon hag had wandered off somewhere, and I hadn’t seen my sister in a good hour or two—there was always the chance she’d gotten lost in the cupboards somewhere, hunting down every last strand of shed old lady hair.

The balcony entrance led to a mess of a room that Beatrix called ‘the laboratory,’ but the only laboring that ever happened in there was my sorry butt trying to scrape the still-burning embers of her failed science experiments off the walls. Two big tables sat in the middle of the hardwood floor, covered in filthy beakers, dirt and the occasional spot of mold growth. ‘Don’t clean up the dirt,’ she’d tell me. That it’s ‘rare lunar soil.’ How rare can it be if there’s a whole moon covered in it?

I’m not sure what it was about it, but the room seemed to attract plants. Every time I went in there, I’d find another vine growing out of a crack in the wall. One time I found a seed that had started to grow from a single speck of the moon dust that made it onto the floor. It doesn’t concern me much—I just rip them out and toss them.

I leaned into the doorframe and edged my head into the hallway, one ear at a time. Looking toward the library, there was nothing but empty hall and closed doors, lined by that ugly waist-high red wallpaper and those gaudy paintings of Lunarians holding rabbits. They sort of creep me out—are those round little puff-rats how humans really see us? Granted, I dunno what a human sees when I give ‘em the eye, but I always assumed it was something scary. Not whatever that is.

I turned my head to look toward the door, and who did I see but my little goody two-shoes sister. Standing there, with her fluffed-up ears and neatly combed hair, dusting the paintings. So proper. So refined. That tease. That flirt. Standing there, with all the buttons shined up on her green shirt. Oh, I’d seen her, showing off to rabbits passing by the Gallery. She acts like she’s so innocent, but I’m not fooled.

And to think she has the gall to tell me how to take care of myself. So what if I just comb my hair back in the morning? Nobody’s gonna see me anyway. And if I go outside, the wind takes care of the rest.

“Oh, Matilda,” she said, turning her head toward me, those dopey elephant ears of hers flopping around like fish out of water, “did you finish cleaning the guest room? How is the laboratory looking?”

I folded my arms impatiently. Of course! The first time we see each other in who knows how many hours since the slave driver sent us off to till the endless fields and clean her countless cobwebs, and what does she have to say to me? Not ‘good to see you,’ or ‘I’m glad the witch hasn’t made you into rabbit stew.’ No, it’s just the usual lack of trust in my work ethic, as if I’m some freeloader.

Should I not at least expect my own sister to join me in slacking off as a form of consolation? A rabbit rapport that stood tall against the old lady menace? No, that would imply that she and the hag aren’t giggling giddy behind my back, coming up with busy work for me to do. Who put these fingerprints on my imagination?

“Is something the matter? Your eyebrow is all atwitch,” she said, softening her voice to sound as innocent as she could manage, clearly guilt-ridden.

“Yeah, yeah, I took care of it, if you couldn’t tell. My clothes are black,” I pointed out the obvious, gesturing to the dirt darkened dress. “I’ve earned a break, ain’t I?”

“It is nearly tea time, so we can all rest a spell. Could you do me a favor first?” she asked coyly, wearing on her face an insincere smile.

“What’s that?” I impatiently demanded. A favor that would take the better part of the next hour, no doubt.

“I’ve not had a chance to tend the garden. If it’s not too much trouble, could you water the flowers?” she asked, touching the tips of her fingers together, transparently faking innocence. The garden was her job, and I wasn’t about to be suckered into taking on extra work simply because she didn’t want to get dirt on her pretty long ears.

As I was placing my hands on my hips and filling my lungs with the air needed to righteously deny her, however, she reached out and grabbed one of my ears.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” I demanded, careful not to jerk my head and pull my own ear off.

“Please, Mattie? I need time to prepare the tea and scones, so I would dearly appreciate your help,” she said, one weasley lie after another. While she had me distracted and fearing for my poor ear, she snaked the fingers of her free hand to my armpit and began to torture me with tickling.

“Stop! Stop it!” I cried between unwanted giggles. “Okay! Okay! I’ll water your goddamn plants!”

“Thank you,” she said with an evil smile. She loosened her grip on my ear and I slapped her hands away. Curling her finger and placing it on her lips to stifle her wicked cackling, she began toward the kitchen. “It shouldn’t take you but a minute, so come back to the kitchen when you’re finished, if you like.”

I scoffed. As if. The last thing I wanted was to play pastry maid; as soon as I was done watering those plants, I’d be off on another date with Mr. Marlboro. I begrudgingly made for the double doors at the entrance, quietly praying that a rainstorm had kicked up while I’d been inside.

Sadly this was one of the few days the big guy in the sky decided our little home sweet home didn’t need a thorough cleansing via torrents of rain and a sprinkling of lightning. The sunlight poked through the trees as if to greet me—what a nuisance. Eventually I convinced myself to trudge down into the mud hole we call a garden and pick up the watering can.

This dress, this field of plants and vegetables, this pail—I felt downright amish. All I needed was a well you pump by hand and I’d be right back in the 1800s. As backwards as things often were in the hermit’s company, though, we at least had running water and electricity.

I dropped the watering can onto the ground, dragged the hose toward me bit by bit, coiled the length of it next to me, and plopped the end into the can. If I wasn’t dirty before, I was then, my hands slimy with grime. I turned the nozzle, grumbling.

“Matilda, what would your mother say if she saw you covered in mud like that?”

A voice called from behind my back. I swung around to see the trees, like skyscrapers, reaching into the sun above me. A figure stood there among the forest, his shoes sunk into an inch of pine needles and shrubs. The hatch that lead into the warren was open next to him. The glare of the sunlight was blinding, but I could see his messy curls of hair, and I could feel his tired stare.

Daddy…?

The man turned to leave, blocking the sun’s blinding glare. Past the gate, standing on the crumbling sidewalk, I could see his shining spikes of golden hair tucked beneath a flat cap and his filthy-looking black leather jacket. The telltale look of a runaway coward who had a lot of nerve to show his face here.

Of course it wasn’t dad. It will never be dad.

“Hey!” I shouted at the golden hobo-hare as he ambled away. “Where do you think—”

He took the brim of his hat between his finger and thumb and covered his eyes, taking off down the street at a sudden urgent pace. I grit my teeth and tossed the still-flowing hose into the dirt. Grabbing my dress and hiking it up to my knees, I darted after the jerk. Once I reached the fence, I squatted down to gather my strength, my legs like coiled springs, and bound over the gate in one hop.

The hem of my dress caught on the gate and I nearly tumbled to the concrete. I managed to jerk it free with only a small rip, but by the time I looked up, there was no trace of that man’s greasy blonde hair.

Any other day I probably would have given up right then. My dress was covered in filth, there was mud in my shoes, and I could hear flowing water as I’d forgotten to turn the hose off—but god damn it, if I wasn’t determined to find that man and make him answer. Who the hell does he think he is, slinking around my home, spying on me and my sister?

So I took off in the direction he’d snuck away, flicking my eyes back and forth like a crazed cat hunting for a slippery little mouse. What hole did you disappear into, Gally? Down the abandoned alleyway next to the Gallery, where the dregs gather because they can smell the moon peaches? Perhaps hiding in the bushes, waiting for me to pass by so you can sneak away like a cornered rat? My teeth were clenched tight as I hunted for him, my fists bound so hard my knuckles were turning white.

Without realizing it, I’d pursued him down to the train tracks at the end of the block. Yellow cat’s eyes looked curiously down at me from the black, empty windowsills of the abandoned houses nearby, and if I was in a mood to care, I might have been concerned about the ever-present possibility of some lecher lurking in the shadows looking for his next taste of hare’s blood.

“Galahad! You coward! Show your face right now, you slimy, slackjawed vermin!” I shouted into the rustling trees. “You crusty old rat! You’ve got some nerve coming to my home, an—”

A hand slipped over my mouth, large enough to grab me by the jaw. It was connected to an arm covered by filthy leather, and above my head there was the blonde beard of the damned codger I’d been shouting at. His palm smelled like tobacco. He put a finger to his mouth and shushed me, which only encouraged me to flail my arms in anger and shout into his hand.

“Be quiet, goddamnit,” he said in a hushed, wary tone. He looked this way and that, probably looking for the shadow people that only appeared in his dried out, elderly mind. Once he was convinced that nobody was there, because of course there wasn’t, he let go of my mouth, spun me around and grabbed my shoulders. “Quit followin’ me. Ain’t safe out here.”

His voice rumbled in that gravelly way it always did, like there was a rock slide in my ears. Every time I heard him talk I could only wonder how he wasn’t dying of throat cancer. Still, as annoying as I found it in that moment, there was something comfortingly familiar about it.

“As if you give a damn about my safety,” I said, hot vapor escaping my nose. I turned my head away and huffed at him; he didn’t deserve the dignity of being looked in the eyes.

He sighed, mumbling grunts as if he had any right to be dissatisfied with me. He let go of my shoulders and gave me a long, hard stare, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. I scrunched up my nose at him to return the displeased sentiment. An uncomfortable silence settled in—which he broke with a fit of snickering.

“What’s so funny?” I demanded, stamping my foot impatiently.

“Oh, it’s jus’,” he pointed at my dirty dress. “They really got you scrubbin’ the floors and pickin’ weeds? I ‘member a time when you used to scream and shout when Charley so much as made you pick up yer toys and—”

“Shut up! What do you know? I did chores! I cleaned! You just didn’t stick around long enough to see!” I turned my back to him and folded my arms, my face red-hot. I thought about leaving him standing there right then, but I stood my ground.

“Alright, alright. Listen, let’s go somewheres nobody can hear us, okay? You can yell at me all ya like, then,” he said, sounding immediately tired of his own concession.

Turning my head enough only to give him a sidelong glance, I nodded shortly. He began to nonchalantly walk away down the train tracks, and would have left me standing there if I hadn’t hurried to follow. I again had a strong inclination to leave the senile old man to his wiles and just go home, but I was determined to give him a piece of my mind.

As we walked the tracks, the guy popped up his collar, lowered the brim of his hat and tried to sink low into his coat like a turtle hiding in its shell. It was ridiculous; as if any of the vagrants hunting the alleys for cans to turn in were going to recognize him.

“What are you doing?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. I couldn’t help but laugh. “You look like an asshole.”

“Anybody was to see you with me, it’d complicate things,” he grumbled.

“Don’t wanna be seen with a dangerous Separatist criminal like me, huh?” I said before jabbing him in the rib with my elbow. He grunted and shook his head.

“No. If they was to see you, any of Jack’s flunkeys might think they could use you to get to me,” he said, an obvious lie.

Jack is dead, why would the Separatist rabbits still be looking for Galahad? Petty revenge? They were a group of displaced hares looking for a better life; they wouldn’t be interested in ‘getting back’ at Galahad for ridding them of a lying, lecherous, greedy man who promised more than he could deliver. At least, I would hope they wouldn’t—Jack broke up families, destroyed homes and tortured people, and for what? To end up right back where we started?

I found myself staring at the blonde man hiding under his flat cap. A matter of weeks ago, I wanted to see him strung up on a cross, literally bled dry to lead me to a fool’s paradise. Where did that anger go? There on the tracks, I saw his blonde bristles of beard, and for some reason I could not summon that anger. It was simply gone, and all I could offer in its place was annoyance.

“If you say so. Don’t they have better things to do than chase after a scraggly old man like you?” I asked, smirking.

He gave a raspy chuckle. “I sure hope so.”

As the track smoothed out onto road, the old rabbit lead me onto the street, and stopped before an inconspicuous looking little square house, its baby blue paint chipping and its roof looking like it might fall in any day now. Its yard was untended and overgrown, and the windows were shaded and dark. From where I stood, it looked like a drug den.

Galahad climbed the two step stoop made of cinder block before the door, and dug into his pant pocket to pull out a key. He stuck it into the door, and with some jimmying and banging, managed to get it open. I hopped up behind him to follow inside, but he placed his hand on my head as if telling me to wait, and poked his face into the crack of the door.

He stood there for a long while, taking in shallow breaths through his nose and silently scanning the room with his eyes. Finally, he was satisfied, and swung the door wide. He stepped quickly inside, ushered me in, and shut the door just as fast behind me.

I flicked the lightswitch next to the door and was greeted by a dimly flickering lightbulb above my head that provided just enough light to make out a vague amber outline of what lurked in the room. I saw the ceiling, pockmarked with rain damage; I saw cracked walls bleeding plaster onto the barren hardwood floor; I saw empty tables in the adjacent ‘kitchen’ that lacked a refrigerator. In fact, the tiny house distinctly lacked any sort of appliances whatsoever. Save for a couple of lawn chairs, piles of ashes here and there, discarded packs of cigarettes, and a bundled up sleeping bag in the corner, the place was empty.

“You, uh… live here?” I asked, looking at him incredulously.

“No,” he said, pulling a cigarette pack from his coat pocket. “This is an unoccupied house. I’d say it was abandoned, but there’s a guy who owns it. He jus’ ain’t done nothin’ with it in, oh, ten or so years, as far as I gather.”

“So you’re squatting.”

“I like to think of it as recyclin’. I’m usin’ somethin’ that’s been thrown away. Lotta houses in this town just sit empty for years an’ rot, while poor folk who could be livin’ in ‘em are sittin’ in the rain right outside. The guy who owns it ain’t usin’ it, so what am I hurtin’, sleepin’ on the floor every now and again?” he puffed excuses through the cigarette held in his lips as he leaned against the wall. He looked so unconcerned, the owner could probably have burst through the door at that very moment and he wouldn’t so much as blink.

“Then how’d you get the key? You steal it?”

“The owner was in here checkin’ fer squatters a while back. I convinced him to give it to me, an’ as far as he knows ain’t nobody been here,” he explained, shrugging.

“I thought you told us to never use our eyes unless we absolutely had to,” I interjected, attacking a hole in his complacency. “You hypocrite. Not so holy and righteous after all, are ya?”

“You an’ yer friends didn’t leave me much choice. Thanks to what you put the kid through, my old hidin’ place ain’t so secret anymore. I go back there and I’m liable to catch a bullet in my teeth,” he rumbled, lighting his cig. “An’ that’d be inconvenient.”

I nodded absentmindedly; the image of the old coot running from one hidey hole to another, pursued by drug addicts and the people he’d burned sprang into my mind. I put my hand over my mouth to hide a spiteful smirk.

When I was done silently laughing at his misfortune, however, I recalled the annoying reason I was standing in his crummy hovel in the first place. I put a hand on my hip and pointed an accusing finger at him, poised to give him the talking-to that he’d earned from his years of negligence and cowardice, but more importantly, for how he’d irritated me on that particular day by darkening my doorway.

“And so you thought it’d be a good idea to show up at my house, skulking around like a goddamn thief? These people who’re supposedly looking for you, they sure didn’t stop you from showing your prickly prick face did they? What if they showed up there, looking for you?” I stabbed my pointed finger forward through the air until it stopped on his chest, where I harshly poked his leather jacket several times.

He shut his eyes and sighed, likely taking a moment to come up with an excuse. In his position, leaned up against the wall with my finger jammed squarely into his ribs, it was going to need to be a good one.

“Hadn’t seen you or your sister in a fair bit, not since everythin’ went down. Wanted to make sure you was alright,” he mumbled and wouldn’t look at me, instead staring at the blinds in the window.

For a moment I wasn’t sure what to say. I withdrew my finger, turned around and looked toward the filthy tiles of the kitchen floor. There was a heavy, uncomfortable air in the room that was making my cheeks hot, so I changed the subject.

“Why’re you staying in a shitty place like this? Why not leave town, find somewhere better?” I asked, subtly concealing my desire for him to go away with an innocent-sounding question.

I could feel his yellow eyes pressing against the back of my head.

“I can’t. Not before I find ‘im.”

“Him?” I questioned, spinning around. “You mean… Jack?”

“I know what yer thinkin’—you saw the kid bludgeon him to death with yer own eyes, practically painted the damn floor with his blood. Ain’t no way he survived that, right?” He took a long puff, inhaled, and exhaled the smoke through his nose. “Iffin’ that was the case, his body shoulda turned up somewhere.”

“What? What are you talking about—didn’t the police take it?”

“Yeah, ‘bout that. I did some askin’ around, poked my nose here an’ there. Accordin’ to them, there weren’t no murders in the church that day. Just some injured folk who can’t recall what happened. But you know how it is in this town; they jus’ arrest everyone half-suspicious lookin’ and call it case closed, none too concerned ‘bout who did what,” he explained, and shook his head, disgusted.

“I’m sure the Separatist rabbits took him. They probably just chucked his body in the river,” I said, shrugging impassively. “He may have been a lying scumbag but I’m sure they didn’t just leave him there for the humans to find.”

“Ain’t that simple. If he’s gone, the Separatists should be scattered, disorganized. As it is, I’ve had three run-ins with ‘em just this week, an’ not fer a friendly chat over coffee ‘n donuts,” he said, his eyes tensing on me. “But it seems things’ve changed. They ain’t interested in my blood, not no more. No, what they want is ‘make the traitors pay.’”

I felt a chill run down my spine. That intense stare he was giving me, the low rumble of his words. This was no joke, he wasn’t trying to play some kind of mean-spirited prank. I could be in danger, just by having followed him.

Well that’s just fucking great. ‘Traitors’ like me.

“This gettin’ through to ya? Ya ain’t safe bein’ seen around me,” he said through a sheen of smoke. “Best thing for ya is to stay with that moon crone. Sure, she may be a headcase what’s got you cleanin’ her floors with a toothbrush, but no rabbit ‘round these parts’ll give ya trouble so long as you’re with her.”

“You kidding? That crazy old bag is a danger to herself and others. I’d prolly be safer on the streets,” I sighed, folding my arms.

I could either fear for my life running from the remnants of the Separatists, constantly looking over my shoulder, or I could fear for my life living as a lunatic’s girl in waiting, constantly wondering if her next crazy experiment will turn our house into a crater. You just can’t win in this world.

There was a light tap on the window, followed by several more. I felt a draft blow in from the door—a sudden rainshower. I nearly kicked the door in frustration; if I’d just waited a half hour I would never have needed to water the plants in the first goddamn place.

“Aw hell. That figures,” Galahad grumbled from the wall. He gave me a wry smile, and said, “Least we ain’t in it, huh?”

“Yeah, now I’m just stuck in here with you ‘till I decide I’m ready to get drenched,” I muttered.

“Y’know, I been thinkin’, since yer here, girl—” he rudely began, but I cut him off.

“I have a name.”

Chuckling, he cleared his throat and began again. “A’course, Matilda.” He pushed himself up from the wall and straightened his back. “Since yer here, maybe you could help elucidate somethin’ for me.” He came nearer, his presence akin to a cloud of cigarette smoke. “You were there when they took the emissary's blood, weren’tcha? You was with Jack’s Separatists from the beginnin’.”

“I was,” I confirmed, looking him unapologetically in the eye.

“You watched ‘em as they took a confused, helpless girl who didn’t know up from down and cut her open in the street. You watched as they left her to die.”

“I did.”

We were staring daggers into one another. I was afraid to blink, as it might have made him miss even a moment of my spiteful look.

“Yet they never did kill ‘er, and she was lucky enough for some bumbling kid to come along an’ patch her up. Jack, for all his blusterin’, couldn’t even kill one little moon girl. Ain’t like he didn’t have ample opportunity to finish her off later, either. Why’s that, ya think?” He stood over me, saying whatever he wanted, so satisfied with himself. I wanted to slap him, but I just looked at him and said nothing.

“I don’t think he had a sudden change ‘a heart, or that he didn’t have the stomach for it. No, I think somebody stopped him,” he sneered.

I felt my ears perk, my anxious nerves like needles pricking under the skin. I was an inch from reaching up and tearing his hair out.

“I think somebody stuck their neck out for our little moonie and begged him not to hurt ‘er. Ain’t that right?”

“SHUT UP!”

The words strangled me as they left my throat. My hands were balled into fists around his leather jacket, and I felt my bottom lip rupture as my two big teeth dug into it. Under the thundering beat of my heart, I stopped myself where I was, grabbing him, and repeated myself.

“Shut. Up.”

“... Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean… It’s just, because of you, she’s still…”

I let go of him and turned around, staring at the filthy floor. I sighed a heavy sigh; it’s true—when Jack cut open the lunar emissary, he was going to slit her throat to get the blood for that poison. I begged him not to. She’s a moonie, those holier-than-thou cretins who look down their noses at us filthy half-breeds on the Earth. I should have hated her—but she looked just like us, and she was alone and scared, couldn’t even speak our language. It wasn’t right. So he cut her down the middle instead, where she surely would have bled to death if it wasn’t for some bumbling moron in the night who happened to find her.

So much for me being some bucktoothed paragon of mercy like everyone keeps trying to imply. All my begging didn’t amount to very much.

“Just, maybe you could help me out here, that’s all I’m sayin’. If I’m gonna find ‘im, I need to understand ‘im.” Galahad’s scratchy drawl had a tint of desperation in it. The sound of him at a loss, asking for something only I could give—it was pretty nice, honestly. “What kinda leader was he? What’d he have ya do?”

“You wanna know what happened? I’ll tell you,” I stated, taking a deep breath. “But this is just so there’s no confusion.”

“Right,” he grunted, stuffing his hands back in his pockets and returning to the crumbling wall.

“After we took the emissary's blood... the next step was to wait for you to come out of hiding,” I explained, turning my head to glance at him. “With the emissary’s blood to make skoab, Jack thought you’d have no choice but to show yourself. And sure enough, you did.”

Galahad frowned and glanced down at his feet glumly, but nodded for me to continue.

“There was this old abandoned house we were staying in to make the drug. I’m sure you know how that is,” I said, giving him a knowing look.

Galahad stared back wryly. “You sure it was abandoned? Ya didn’t jus’ eyeball somebody outta their home, didja?”

“I’m sure. The place was a dump. Whoever lived there ditched it a long time ago; the driveway was full of dead cars and rusted old junk. From the way the place smelled I’d be surprised if there wasn’t a dead body in one of the rooms and we just never found it.”

“Some ‘Heaven on Earth,’” he scoffed, shifting his moustache in distaste. “Lot better than livin’ in a place you could call yer own, with people who care about ya.”

“Anyway,” I continued, ignoring him, “it was only a few of us. Me, Jack, Barnaby from the warren, some other people I didn’t know. Jack didn’t want to attract attention, so he only ever had a few of us together at once.”

Except for that time he gathered us all together to terrorize the emissary just because she survived, I remembered. We pushed her into the mud and spat on her.

“He was a real jerkass. Always his way or the highway. Always had some big plan, would never give us all the details. Just ‘trust me Mattie,’ and ‘you know I’m right Mattie,’ and ‘I understand humans better than you, Mattie,’ like the fact that he lived out in the city made him better than us somehow. He even had the gall to make a pass at me,” I said. As my lips shut I put my fingers over them, realizing I’d said too much.

“Did he now?” Galahad questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, but I turned him down. He stunk like blood and rotten eggs all the time,” I said matter of factly, brushing it aside. The scruffy old man just grunted in response.

That was a lie, of course. Jack’s ‘pass’ at me was far from an amiable fliration. He deliberately tried to get me alone—I know it was half the reason we were in that abandoned shack in the first place. I still remember the lecherous way he looked at me, the way his clothes stunk like death when he came near me. If Barnaby wasn’t there with us, I don’t know what he might have tried. The thought of it frightened me, but I wasn’t about to tell that to ol’ Gally.

“He had me contacting every drug dealer we could find, trying to get ahold of a sample of your skoab that wasn’t already smeared onto somebody’s face. Then, I heard about some crackpot named Markus Flick. Think you might know him. We arranged a deal with him, and he sent a scraggly looking homeless kid up to give us the goods.” I turned to face Galahad, my arms held playfully behind my back. I was sure I was getting under his skin.

“Mm,” is all he said in return, listening with his eyes shut.

“He gave me a bag with a little jar in it, and he demanded I pay him. And then d’ya know what I did?”

“What’s that?” he asked, sighing.

“I looked him in the eye, and I told him to leave and never come back,” I stated simply, shrugging. “And you know what? He was so scared he fell on his ass, and took off running! Oh, if you coulda seen the look on his face. He was terrified!”

I couldn’t help but giggle. It really was hilarious, watching that guy’s face turn white and open his mouth to silently scream. I don’t really know what it is he saw, but from everything I know about how humans react to the ‘red eyes’ rabbits have, it must’ve been pretty terrible. Then again, he seemed alright when I saw him again later—so no harm, no foul, right?

“So that’s what happened,” Galahad said, exhaling smoke and running his hand down his face. “Goddamnit, you coulda got him killed. After ya did that, next thing he knew he was on the other side ‘a town. Was almost at the damn lake afore he came to his senses. Ya can’t just use yer eyes on folk willy nilly, this is the sorta shit that happens.”

“Hey, don’t gimme that! God knows how many people have been outta their minds for who knows how long, thanks to your little poison ointment! You got a lotta nerve to lecture me,” I shouted back.

I wouldn’t let him stand there and preach to me when the only reason we had access to this leaking hole of a house was his use of his eyes. He just sighed, however, and gave me a defeated look.

“I don’t wanna hear it. I know what I done,” he glumly muttered. “I just... dunno how it all ended up this way. Iffin’ I thought I could jus’ let him go, I’d forget about Jack. I’d go away somewhere that I couldn’t cause any more trouble. I fucked things up too much already.”

“Yeah you have! You made a real big mess of everything! Why’d you have to leave in the first place? If you just stayed in the warren, then Jack wouldn’t have convinced us to do all this stupid shit! Then, dad wouldn’t be…”

We stood there, staring at one another. There was a pained look in his eye, like he knew everything I was saying was true, but there was nothing to be done about it now. I knew that as well as anybody, but it wouldn’t stop me from resenting him. Finally, he broke the silence.

“The rain’s stopped.”

The air around the house was still, and the incessant dripping from the leaky ceiling onto the carpet had slowed. I looked toward the door, but I wasn’t quite ready to leave yet.

“After we got the skoab from you… Jack changed,” I said, looking down at my fingers. “I almost never saw him. He locked himself in a room making more and more of it for over a day. And then he was always gone, spreading it around the town. He had me doing it, too, disguising myself as all these different people. He had me put it in old peoples’ food, for Chrissake.

“I saw what it did to people. At the time, he’d convinced me that it was justified. That we had to, because the humans had taken the world all for themselves, and this was the only way to take it back. But…”

“I know. It sounded right. You were tryin’ to do what you thought you had to,” he said quietly. The room fell silent again, until finally he spoke again. “Every night, I find myself thinkin’—wish I could go back homeward. Make things right again. But what’s done is done, there ain’t no goin’ back. What’s left to do is make right of what we got now.

“You oughta leave ‘fore the rain starts up again,” he said, his voice a low rumble.

I nodded and made for the door. With the knob turned halfway, I paused, and turned to look at him again. He removed his hat and wiggled his little ears at me, smiling.

“... I am glad you came back for us. I really am,” I forced the words out as quickly as I could, and slipped through the door.

☆☽☆

With the rabbit girl hopping back home, the gold-haired rabbit stood there a while, staring at the door. For a time, his mind was empty, unable to conjure the thoughts to go along with what he’d just done. Then, his muscles were spurred to movement again. He rose his hands to his head and buried them in his hair, sliding on his back down the wall until he hit the floor.

Liar.

It was only a little white lie, but it was a lie all the same. So much time he had spent surrounding himself with lies. Lies to protect others, lies to protect himself. The faces humans had known him by, lies. The names he’d been called by humans and hares alike—lies.

He was not some gallant, righteous figure whose story rested in exalted tomes of legend. He was not a man who had dedicated to himself to the preservation of his people and culture, nor did he champion the cause of leading those who had been exiled to a new home where they would be welcomed by those like them.

He was just a liar.

From the corner of his eye, the darkness lurking in the lightless spots in the empty kitchen began to bloom and grow. A malignant cloud of shadow, spreading its way over the filthy tiles and spilling onto the carpet. From the black hole, a thin figure sporting a green jacket and long dress emerged. The hare’s thick, blonde eyebrows tightened in anger.

“Whaddya want, witch?” his voice quaked, shaking in the dark.

“What a fine how-do-you-do. Hast thee been afflicted by a malady of rudeness to accompany thy brooding?” the figure in the dark said, its voice flighty and feminine. “I am come merely to see to the wellbeing of my servant, whom you so uncouthly snuck away.”

“You were listenin’ in, were ya? Stickin’ yer nose where it don’t belong again?”

“Oh, but how could I not? ‘Twas such a heated discussion, the atmosphere betwixt the two of you so intense. For a moment, I should not have been surprised if you took her in your great hairy arms and—”

“Shut it,” the hare interrupted.

“Come now, Galahad. How was I to guess that amid thy scruffy exterior, there exist still such a vulnerable creature? ‘I wish it were different. I wish to go home. Oh, little Matilda, the sight of you doth stir the troubled waters of mine heart!’”

The woman threw her head back in laughter, the green ribbon tied around her neck bouncing up and down as she cackled. When she was finished, she pressed the tips of her fingers to her chest as and steadied her breathing, as if relishing each merry breath.

The rabbit sitting on the floor rose slowly to his feet and slipped his flat cap over his stubby ears, adjusting the brim to rest over his brow. He looked sternly into the hermit’s eyes, internally debating whether he need explain anything to her at all. Finally, he let out an indecisive grumble.

“She’s the daughter of a good friend. A’course I care for her,” he stated gruffly.

“Ah, but I tug at your feeble heartstrings merely for a merry jest. Feel howsoever you like, it maketh no difference to me. The girl is mine, and with me she shall stay. The more pertinent matter is that of the falsehoods you hath filled her head with,” Beatrix mused. She pointed a white-gloved finger at the rabbit in the corner, her eyes bright. “Thou wish not to return home to her warren. Thou pine not for a time whereupon you were that girl’s guardian and teacher.”

The hare said nothing, merely reached into his pockets for another cigarette. The Lunarian went on pointing, filling the tiny house with her bombastic claims.

“You are wont to let her believe that, as is convenient, but truly, truly! Truly you wish to put all of this behind you. Long you stare into Luna at night, wishing only to heed her call. To shed your false earthly moniker, and once again be known as the golden sunlight hare! Am I wrong, Heart of the Sunrise?”

Galahad took a long puff from his cigarette, answering Beatrix’s claim with an exhausted stare. For even if everything she said was true, that dream had long gone from the hare’s mind. He looked toward the floor and shook his head in defeat.

“Is that all? I didst hope you at least would have the backbone to fly into a rage and throw me from your…” Beatrix paused to run her gloved finger down the wall, coming away with a small pile of dust, “home. Seems only common courtesy.”

“Feel free to show yerself out,” Galahad grunted, staring her down.

“As you wish,” Beatrix said firmly, holding her nose in the air. She began back toward the darkness she’d emerged, but as she crept away, she flit her gaze back to the hare and quickly added, “but what if I held what you seek? What if I knew thy way back home?”

Galahad glared at her. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“‘Tis true. Knowest I the currents, the stretch of stars that yet lead to Heaven above. Knowest I how to return thee, the prodigal sun, to his long-lost home,” Beatrix declared, each word more boastful than the last. “Doth thee not wish to go home? Be it not all you have ever wanted since you fell upon this muddy, miserable Earth, gold knight?”

“Get out,” the rabbit rumbled, his teeth grinding into the cigarette butt between his lips.

“Thou need only ask, Galahad. Climb aboard my starship, let us sail for the skies.”

“GET OUT!” Galahad thundered. He stomped in anger, the floorboard cracking under the force.

“I shall be waiting. Come, and we shall sail away,” the Lunarian calmly offered, her voice as quiet and wispy as the wind slipping under the door.

The shadows in the kitchen swelled, reaching from the corners to claim the Lunarian woman. They crawled over her form, swallowing her little by little until she was no more, and the blonde rabbit again stood alone on the damp, rotting carpet beneath him.

#moondust #short story #rabbits #writing

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