The tension underlying their
“Show him what?” Robin put his hat and vest back on then bent to pick up the pixie’s discarded wand. It was intricately carved with thin vines and floral patterns across its surface and had a green-blue opalescent shimmer to it. When its tip inadvertently came into contact with his vest Robin’s entire Santa outfit bloomed with small red and white flowers. Annoyingly, he now rustled conspicuously with every motion.
“We’re going to take him home and Convert
“We’re wha….?!” Robin stood there dumbly dumfounded. They were in the middle of a fucking fairy enclave. Who knew how many of the flappity festive freaks there might be. They’d get swarmed carrying Martiposa out of the tent, lucky to make it a hundred yards.
“Robin, don’t just stand there like a coal too cool to burn,” Zebryl instructed. “Get that large swath of glittery pink fabric from over there and wrap the pixie in it.”
Robin spied the fabric. It was a lovely shade of rose and looked as if it had sun reflecting off crystalline lake water woven into it. “You mean mafia style? Roll his body up like inside a carpet?”
“Yes, of course,” Zebryl stated.
“What are going to do?” Robin glanced at the revelers who loudly kept the other feyFolk
“I will Ward
. He’ll probably cast No Peek-a-Boo It turned out that was exactly what the devil did. Robin rolled the short, muscle-swooned, fairyMan into the soft cloth being careful not to bend or break one of his beautiful blue wings. They proved to be quite sturdy but pliable and he needn’t have worried as the wings wrapped nicely around the pixie as an under-layer to the fabric.
Robin wanted to snatch the kadaghant as well, but the precious little fuzzBug was integral to keeping the mass of models and other feyFolk
The casual stroll out of the park took nearly half an hour and Robin was nervously twitchy the whole time. With Robin’s non-functional, decorative Beefcake Cake physique due to evaporate anytime, Zebryl easily ported the passed-out pixie in his arms. Apparently the fey pastry provided no actual boost to his Strength PresenceBohdiCarousehe would do if abandoned to fend for himself. Besides, many of the feyFolk
They made it to Betty’s car and all the way home without incident. Martiposa remained unconscious so Zebryl took him into his bedroom. Yarya and Ashalina were not home leaving Robin with no recourse but to continue interacting with the incubus.
“What’s the plan now?” Not having wings of his own, Robin figured the devil was better suited at making Martiposa comfortable. He stood in the bedroom doorway watching.
Zebryl gently unwrapped the pixie from the pink fabric. He maneuvered the small man tenderly. Robin suspected the devil might be harboring unrequited feelings. Maybe because the feyMan had imprinted on the devil siblings early in their tenure here? Zebryl finished tucking Martiposa in and stretched his own wings as best he could within the confines of the room. “When Martiposa awakes, it will be your job to Convert
“Fuck that!” No way was he going to do the devil’s dirty work. “I think we should take him back before the fairies get all stiff n’ pissed and come swarm us. We’re already on that archangel’s radar and StinkPew’s old pack keeps sniffing around. The last thing we need is to make one more set of enemies.”
Zebryl crossed his arms. “You really must be willing to do your share of tasks around here. Yarya and I do not suffer layabouts. If this cabal is to grow and thrive, we must each do our part. You are well suited to interpersonal activities, so you ought to operate as our chief headhunter.”
“So what do you expect Ashalina to do?”
Zebryl shrugged. “I believe Yarya already has set that plan in motion.”
“And that is…?”
“None of your business, minion.”
There was a cutting tone of cruelty in the devil’s inflection he had not heard before. “Are you angry with me or something, Zebryl?”
The incubus uncrossed his arms pushing passed Robin into the hallway. “No, Robin, not angry. Disappointed, perhaps.”
Robin gulped fearing the litany of reasons he had provided that might be sewing disenchantment: running away; killing their first Recruit;HomeBase
Zebryl stopped, clasping hands behind his back. “You have proven yourself recalcitrant at bettering yourself in this game. I’m sure you have unassigned ExperienceDots
“Yeah, I think so,” Robin admitted.
Zebryl sniffed. “The very fact that you are unsure of your answer tells me precisely how uncommitted you are to survival. Any advancements you receive should be implemented immediately. You ought rigorously train each and every SkillEquipment
Robin dropped his eyes to the carpet. He held still, resisting the urge to shuffle his feet like a chastised child. “Look, I know I should be practicing my magic more and should figure out how to safely operate that fucking bag of bad decisions, but nothing in my life has prepared me to deal with any of this. I’m still not entirely sure it’s all real.”
Zebryl sighed heavily. He appeared to relax somewhat as he dropped onto the recliner careful to keep his wings tightly folded. “I understand. I am not so far removed from my own arrival here as to have forgotten what it feels like. I suspect the world Yarya and I come from is far more savage than yours. We are, perhaps, more naturally suited for this life.
“However, you have yet to experience anything close to the unceasing, daily, depravity and barbarism on display in the city proper. And let me assure you, this is all very real. While I haven’t the slightest inkling as to why — or even how — this place came to be, what I assure you is each Player
Robin collapsed onto the couch with a groan. “But what’s the fucking point of it all?”
“The same as anywhere, here or back home. Stay alive.”
“That’s it? What about connection? Friendship? Family? Love?”
“None of those things hold any truth, Robin. Everything you just listed is contractually motivated. Friendship? Only so long as we treat each other decorously. Family? Those are contracts written at the genetic level and we cannot break or overwrite them. Love? Those are fleeting agreements we make with one another in order not to feel alone and to take pleasure in the moment. To think they hold any sort of revelatory purpose is delusional.”
“So survival is all there is,” Robin whispered. “To what end?”
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“Death or triumph, my dear. Death or triumph.”
Robin let silence reign for a few minutes before asking the next question. “So what do the winners win?”
It was Zebryl’s turn to let the conversation lull. Finally, “Honestly, I’m not sure. I do know there is only one final winner and it is commonly believed they are granted complete dominion over this realm to shape it as they see fit.”
“So there have been winners in the past?”
“Presumably, yes. That archangel who paid us a visit is the current, most highly-ranked Player
Robin sat up. “So you don’t know who the last winner is? Was?”
Zebryl steepled his claw-tipped fingers. “No, I do not. No one does. If the stories are true, the new Creator absorbs or ousts the old one and evolves into a state of pure psychic energy. This world and its residents are reset according to their whims and the game begins all over.”
“Is there a prize or something that sends you back home?”
The incubus snorted. “I wish. That’s never happened. At least I don’t think it has. You might as well settle in and make wiser decisions, Robin. This is the life left to each of us, so we might as well succeed at it. Unless the blank oblivion of death is more to your liking?”
“Nope.”
A whisper of feet on carpet came from the hallway. Martiposa shuffled quietly into the room holding his head. “Where am I? What has happened?”
Zebryl stood up and ushered the pixie to the couch next to Robin. “You, my friend, are at the Zar’Ya House. Robin, be a dear and fetch some ResolveResources
Admirably maintaining serene composure, the feyMan smiled. “Yes, something to snack upon would be most appreciated. I’m afraid I feel quite drained.”
Robin only had four of the green dollops stored in the infinite space of his SantaSackResources
Zebryl returned to the recliner before answering. “I’m afraid our paths have crossed at a time when my sister and I are in need of some… assistance.”
“If I remember her correctly,” Martiposa said, calmly, “she is not the kind to ask for help.”
Zebryl laughed, perhaps a touch awkwardly. “Your memory is most acute, dear pixie. Yarya is assuredly direct. Luckily, it is I who have come to you and not she. I would ask that you join our Cabal
Robin returned with the four dollops in hand and gave them over to the pixie. Martiposa ate them daintily. “Oh, I also made sure to snag your sewing wand.” He pulled out the thin stick from his boot and held it out. “If it’s not a bother, I’d appreciate getting my outfit, janky as it is, turned back to normal.” He shimmied like a heavy-titted stripper rustling the flower-festooned fabric.
Martiposa delivered one of his tinkling laughs. “Ah, but of course, of course. I had been wondering why you were looking so floral. I thought, perhaps, one of my novice
“Nah, it was me,” Robin admitted sheepishly. “I accidentally triggered your wand somehow and this is what it gave me.”
“Of course,” Martiposa nodded. “In the hands of a beginner, these wands are fickle. Outlandish, even. I am rather impressed that you were able to make it work at all. There must be latent fey blood in your lineage.”
Robin’s eyes widened. “Is that a thing?”
The pixie simped coquettishly as he finished the last ResolvefeyFolk
Surely Martiposa knew the answer to that given the amount of time he had spent in this world, but maybe he was simply being polite and crafting good conversation. “No, I don’t think fairy people are real in my world, though there are tons of myths and stories about them. Maybe your kind visited my planet at some point?”
“I should not think that possible, my friend.” Martiposa took his wand and carefully inspected it for damage. “I do not think any of my people have ever left the planet. To be fair, I come from one of six very large Gardens. Perhaps, long ago, some of our ancestors from the other side of Paradise made it off the world, but I should think not. I cannot imagine any reason why someone would leave of their own volition.”
Martiposa sat forward on the couch. He gently waved the wand across Robin’s vest and shorts with delicate gestures. Each individual flower on the fabric puffed away in a small cloud of glitter, returning it to its original cheap, thin vinyl. Sadly, losing the irritating flowers also took softness with it.
Afraid it might be too much of an imposition, but hoping the affable pixie would indulge him despite his current status as a captive, Robin asked, “Would you be willing to do something about this outfit? Nothing extravagant, but anything different would be appreciated. I’m really sick of walking around looking like a homo hobo’s fever dream of Christmas-past.”
Martiposa took a moment giving him a very serious look, then glanced at Zebryl and back to Robin. “I fear you overestimate my abilities, Master Robin. The game world will not let me give you a different outfit. The most I could manage would be to alter it in design, but not in its form. I am afraid you are stuck with this — what do you call it?”
“Santa Claus attire,” Robin grumped.
“Yes, Santa Claus. I could make any number of variations to it, but I cannot wholesale craft something new unless you have some way to alter your Occupation
Robin wondered if that were possible. He looked to Zebryl who shook his head ever so slightly knowing what Robin was about to ask.
Robin sighed. “Well, I understand… I guess. But anything other than these crappy off-the-rack-plasticy duds would be awesome.”
Martiposa sat back and crossed his legs. “Well, my friends. I would be most happy to accommodate your fashion needs should you be so kind as to release me back to my Tribe.”
“That, I’m afraid, we cannot agree to,” Zebryl stated, sadly. If his pleasant tone was an act, he deserved an Oscar.
“Then afraid I must simply relax and wait for further developments,” Martiposa said.
Zebryl turned a meaningful look at Robin. Marti for him. Well, he can go stuff my resignation letter up his clenched butthole — in fucking triplicate. The devil pulled a red Fear
Robin was tempted to leave the room and find something else to do, but his psyche felt brittle enough to snap. Before he acted rashly, maybe it was better to have it out now, in front of their guest — no, hostage — and settle a few things without the imminent threat of Yarya taking things into her own violently-inclined claws. “You know what, Zebryl. I’ve had it. Feel fuckin’ free to threaten me subliminally one minute then yank my crank the next. I’m not going to be manipulated into being the bitch boy of this cabal. If you want Martiposa on our team so badly, you Convert
Zebryl clicked his tongue poshly. “My, my, my, Robin. Your balls might be full of more than cum. While I appreciate your stiffened backbone, if you hope to make use of my stiff amenities, you might benefit from a moment of reflection. You are not — in the slightest — ready to make your way in this wicked world on your own. You need me. Us. And if your, and by extension , well-being is to be maintained, every Player
Robin crossed his arms hotly but said nothing. He noticed his musculature was measurably diminished. The Beefcake Cake’s effects must have been running out.
Zebryl sniffed. “You stand to recruit Master Martiposa to our cause in a far more congenial manner than I might. And certainly more sympathetically than Yarya will. Between your Charm
“Why don’t you just fuck him onto the team?” Robin spat. “It’s what you did to me.”
For his part, Martiposa appeared almost amused at watching the two of them rile each other. The pixie grinned. “While I am not opposed to the notion of bedding Master Zebryl once again — under different circumstances, of course — his capacity at conversion through Seduction
Robin suspected the game world’s rules prevented a CaptiveHomeBase
“Master Martiposa speaks truly,” Zebryl said with a slight nod. “He is at least one TierConversion
The pixie nodded.
“Well, fuck all y’all, then!” Robin threw his hands up. “And pun intended.”
“That was not a pun,” Zebryl pointed out.
“ it would imply that you are wanting a three-way,” Martiposa added additively.
Robin turned and stormed out of the room toward the front door. “Eat a bag o’ shit biscuits, bitches. I’m outta here.” So much for not acting rashly. Was he really going to leave and not even bother to take that cursed bag of boons and banes with him? It had that walkie-talkie thing that might still call his cousin. The bag was also a relicFuck it till Friday. Just get gone before you change your mind.
As he reached for the doorknob, a loud thump and tumbling sound rumbled across the roof of Betty’s house like five of Santa’s reindeer had fallen out of the sky. Robin stopped in his tracks, thankful for the distraction as he had nearly opened the door without saying the pass phrase to keep it from going boom.
A moment later, he heard the screen door at the back of the house slide open with a harsh bang against the frame. “Incoming hostiles!” The warning came as a ragged shout from Yarya’s throat. Robin dashed back into the living room in time to see the succubus, burned, tattered and flayed, drop to the floor in a heap.