An article cut from the Mycena Cave Echo:

There’s a bold new face among the shopfronts at town center. Built up from the humble spot left vacant by Nick’s Hardware, Flavortown has burst onto the scene. By the time this is published, it’s likely that a line will already be forming along the street; Mycenians of all shapes and sizes eager to try a bite.

Though he’s been a difficult ineki to get hold of recently, I managed to meet and have a nice chat with Flavortown’s proprietor, Arnie Beech. He invited me to the still-shuttered restaurant last week, meeting me at the door and quickly ushering me inside. The interior was bright, with many benches and tables for customers to enjoy their meals at, a counter running along the back of the dining area, and the kitchen lying beyond that point. Luminescent fungi lit the walls from their sconces — a bit of a classy choice for a joint that included a drawing of a burger, a slice of pizza, and two spaghetti-and-meatball exclamation points after its logo.

Arnie invited me to have a seat across from him in one of the booths, warning me not to touch the freshly painted wall. First impression? He did not look like the sort of Mycenian to choose kitschy food joint as his business venture of choice. He was surprisingly tall and sleek — a cat ineki with well-groomed toasty brown fur and a thick-rimmed pair of glasses resting upon his nose. Clad in an apron smudged with various flour and grease stains, he began our interview by apologizing for his appearance.

MYCENA CAVE ECHO: No worries! I suspect you’ve been rather busy getting everything set up.

ARNIE BEECH: (laughs) Yeah. Lots of prep work to do for opening night.

ECHO: That’s tomorrow, right? You think you’re ready?

ARNIE: I guess I have to be, don’t I? (laughs) If you’re asking if I’m nervous, I guess a little bit. The past couple months have gone by so fast; feels like just yesterday I signed the deed for this place.

ECHO: I remember when this used to be Nick’s cozy little hardware store. In fact, I think I interviewed him, too, at one point. You’ve certainly made a lot of changes to the place.

ARNIE: The old hardware store interior was cute; nice and rustic. Unfortunately it just didn’t suit my vision. I like bold, in-your-face colors; a bit of class with the decor. I guess you could say I’m a bit eclectic — I saw you eyeing the sconces when you first came in. Those are just the start!

There’ll be a chandelier eventually, too; it’s gonna hang right over the center of the dining area. It’s not finished yet, though. I’ve got a custom glass-maker working on perfecting the baubles that’ll hang from it. They’re all gonna look like different kinds of food we serve! It’ll be awesome.

ECHO: Sounds expensive.

ARNIE: Gotta spend money to make money. This place will pay for itself in no time.

ECHO: Any other grand visions for the space here? You certainly opened it up quite a bit; got a lot of square footage to work with.

ARNIE: I’m so glad you asked. I’m thinking over there in the corner we could eventually put an organ and have live music playing—

ECHO: Sorry to interrupt, but don’t you mean a piano?

ARNIE: No, no. A big church organ! It’ll add a nice je ne sais pas to the place, I think. Really draw people in. And over there, I’m thinking a play area for the Sprouts would be just awesome. Would really bring home our family-oriented atmosphere. Folks would come for the food, and parents would be entertained by the live music and shows we’d put on over there, while kids could have a grand old time playing together.

ECHO: That certainly sounds… interesting.

ARNIE: Yeah, it’ll be rad.

ECHO: So, your advertising has been awfully vague about the kind of food you’ll be serving beyond stating that it’s ‘fusion cuisine’. That’s a new term for me, and probably many of my readers. Could you maybe explain it a bit?

ARNIE: Oh, sure. I’m no big fancy restaurant guy, so I get that not everyone’s into the lingo, as it were. (laughs) To me, fusion cuisine is exactly what it sounds like. A combination of two things to make an entirely new thing. You’ve had pizza, yeah? Burgers? Alright, good — I suspect most folks have. Now, my idea of a fusion cuisine is, like, you take a burger, right? You take a burger and you pull off the bun — use pizza slices, cheese side down, as the bun instead! Now you’ve got a pizza burger, which is one of our signature dishes.

ECHO: ....

ARNIE: Most people are a bit speechless when I first tell them about it. They’re thinking, ‘how come nobody’s ever thought of that before? It’s genius!’ Here, gimme like ten minutes and I’ll whip one up for you. A sneak peak of my Flavortown Special.

(At this point, he gets up from the table and waves a paw at me to wait where I am. I’m concerned by the prospect of this ‘dish’ he’s going to be serving me, and especially concerned by the ineki himself. Though he seemed to be a normal, somewhat sensible individual at first introduction, his wildly tangential imagination and the fact that he’s invested so many nuggets into this overwhelmingly clashy ‘dream business’ of his has me worried.

He returns swiftly and sets down a plate made of smooth obsidian before me. Atop it sits the previously described monstrosity in all its glory, greasy pizza cheese melting down over the sides and mingling with the typical burger toppings of ketchup, mustard, and veggies. It is served with a petite side of greens and mushrooms, with what looks to be a very delicate drizzle of oil atop it.

I think this guy is a madman.

He is watching me eagerly, waiting for me to try his masterpiece. I take the pizzurger? Burza? in my claws and lift it to my snout, gingerly taking a bite. I try not to gag as I chew the discordant mixture of flavors and textures, and finally manage to swallow it down. He looks quite proud of himself — I think I might vomit.)

ARNIE: So, how is it? That’s our signature dish; it’s going to draw people from all over the Caves!

ECHO: It’s… it’s certainly a unique…. flavor… experience…

ARNIE: (arcing his paws and saying it in a loud whisper) Flavortown.

Here, the paper is torn; the rest of the article missing.

Flavortown closed two months following its opening. The restaurant’s husk still sits boarded up and vacant. Arnie Beech disappeared soon after its shuttering, and still has not been seen nor heard from.

Tila likes to sew - especially in the colors of her coat. Ribbons and silks, needles astray everywhere. It was always a prickly experience visiting her in the middle of one of her projects. It wasn’t to say Tila couldn’t work with other colors or patterns, but something about the contrast of green leaves on blue satin, navy lacework on light blue silk, and fragile white-gold lace that sent a thrill through her straight into her creativity center.

So she works away in her home, till the couch is a forgotten thing lost in bundles and bundles of cloths and there isn’t an inch of floor that can be seen. She crafts all sorts of things too, looking things up online on the Magical Mushroom Mesh (or the MMM for short), and trying all sorts of projects other Mycenanians around the cave. Unfortunately, they don’t always come out the way it’s shown on the pictures.

Another downside of Tila’s love of things that matches her coat, is that, well, when her friends don’t hear from her in a while they check in on her - mentally preparing for stray needles galore - she camouflages very well with her surroundings. More than once has she managed to scare one of them.

Tila finds it all very amusing.

Arrangement by Blackfoxette Inspired by this flower: Light at the End of the Tunnel

Legendary Inari, was sitting upon her coffin in her catacomb when she looked around and realized it was a bit too dark even for her to be able to enjoy. She had remembered during her journey through the caves she had caught something glinting a small beam of light out of the corner of her eyes. Just barely in her peripheral vision. Though she had just assumed it was a crack in the wall of the cave, she wondered if perhaps it was something else.

Inari closed her catacomb and locked it with her chains. She shook them making them rattle, but she just wanted to make sure no one could enter her dwelling without her presence. Unfolding her bat-like wings she stretched them out and leaped up into the air flapping heading towards the cliffs she encountered on her last journey through the caves trying to find the chamber of the sorceress.

She came to the first chamber which had subsided and seemed normal, she perched down on the ground and folded her wing tight against her back making sure they have tucked away so she could squeeze through the crack, then she began to cross the caverns chamber where the second crack entrance was. She slid through that and was finally at the cliffs by the oceanic waters.

She stretched out her wings again, and took off in flight circling the outer rims off the cliff, when there it was again that glint that had caught her eye, she swooped to the ledge, and had noticed it was a dark colored flower, but in the center was a sort of bioluminescence that it was able to generate its own form of light. She took her paws, and gently dug out the flower keeping its roots intact, and tucked it under her hat. She started back on her journey to her dwelling she was going to place this wonderful flower in the center of her catacomb so that it could provide just the right amount of light in the corner of her cave.

Arrangement by Blackfoxette Inspired by this flower: Runic Relic Flower

Juliette lived in the Wildwood glowing part of the underground caverns jungle glade.
She was born a special Melanistic Jaguar, on her right paw bore what her elders called the drifty enchanted rune.
She was told as a cub that this was a special marking rarely possessed by her pride.

Juliette went to the elder of the pride, and asked him why do I have this marking?

Elder Pride Member: “Well little one see you are gifted to have this mark it is a mark of destiny it is foretold that the one who bares this mark shall discover the long lost runic relic flower.”

Juliette: “What is so special about the runic relic flower my Pride Elder?”

Elder Pride Member: “It is said once this flower is located the special runic God of our pride shall be allowed to transform from the flower state into it’s eneki form, and thus being able to provide protection to our clan, amongst other things that he should deem are necessary to ensure our prides health, and safety. I think it is that time you went to look for him my young one travel out past the glowing wildwood jungle glade, and head towards the sacred tree, when you have found the Runic relic flower your rune on your arm will glow. Then you must dig up the flower, and plant it by the sacred tree.”

Juliette: ” I shall start my journey now my Pride Elder”

Juliette quickly took off towards the east striding at lightning speed she had a high agility and great endurance for long distance traveling.

As she drew closer to the sacred tree she felt her arm starting to tingle, and the rune was brightly glowing, she stopped, and looked around, at first glance she didn’t seem to notice anything. On second glance however hidden behind some dangling moss on the wall of the cave she noticed a faint glow of dim light grabbing her enlightened lantern she pointed it towards the direction of where the glow was emanating, she gasped.

That’s it I have found the flower, she started to use her paws to dig out the roots of the flower holding her lantern in her mouth. Success she stood on her hind legs holding the runic relic flower in her paws gently, and with a quickened pace jogged towards the sacred tree not wanting the runic relic flower to be unearthed to long, she gently set it down on the base of the trunk, and dug a proportioned size plot to place the runic relic flower.

Gently padding the soil down so that the flowers roots were covered, she sat and waited to see if this flower would come to life as the pride elder said it would.

by Morgan

by me

by priz

Arrangement inspired by this flower by Gabriel

Stepping lightly down from the platform, the small doctor adjusted their spectacles, then dragged a hand heavy with pearls across their chest. Purple eyes trained on the captain blinked slowly, barely registering movement when the large man poked about behind the wheel. He glanced toward the doctor, giving them a graceless grin, all teeth and no sweetness, yet this finally caught the doctor’s interest and drew a return smile, composed as it was. Shaking a few stray hairs away from their face, the doctor glided over to the crystal viewport toward the back of the cabin and gazed downward toward the clouds whipping by below them.

“A more beautiful sight I could guess you’ve never seen, ey doc?” The captain nudged playfully, his tone lighter than any the doctor had heard him share with his crewmen.

“Indeed!” The doctor nodded enthusiastically, their reflection bouncing in the crystal’s multihued face. “It’s marvelous! I’ve never wanted to be anywhere more lovely in all my life!”

From this side of the window, the sleek surface of the crystal acted more as a mirror than a window even as it illuminated the doctor’s slight frame. They studied their reflection, adjusting their lavender coat and tugging on their braid, absently tucking stray hairs back in place. They had worn their best traveling clothes, a beautifully embroidered coat with purple stitching, and their favorite pearls to match. The colors blended well in the crystal light that lit much of the cabin, and up here above the clouds the young doctor felt as though they were an angel, belonging here in the heavens themselves. Even their grey-brown hair appeared now as lovely as the angelic idols lining the grand avenue back home, studded with multicolored jewels in the form of refracted beams from the crystalline lens. If only that jeweler hadn’t been closed all of last week, their hair could be decked out in real crystals! And then—oh, even the angels themselves would look on the doctor with jealousy unmatched!

“Doctor, if I may,” the captain asked, drawing the doctor’s attention back from the clouds and into the airship cabin. “Your pretty outfit is all well and good, but once we get to our destination—“

The doctor cut him off, peering back to fix the captain with another understanding smile.

“I’m a surgeon, captain. I know what is prudent. However dear the lives are of our friends across the skies, you and I are still representing our country, and though I am not afraid to get my hands dirty, sacrifices must be made to ensure faithful relationships and good impressions. We’ll dock in the harbor and I’ll dazzle them all, with you beside me to show them the other side of our sister society! Prudent, pristine, and yet practical. There’s a reason we send out cultured professionals such as you and I to represent us all. And if an outfit is to be ruined in the process, then so be it. We’ll be noticed at the very least, and we’ll impress with our superior flagship—not to mention my surgical skills. We must be radiant, not reposed.”

The captain smirked, suppressing an amused chuckle and watching the doctor with keen eyes, but he kept silent as he mulled over the doctor’s words. His eyes remained on the doctor as they took their seat once more and straightened their pearl bracelets in their lap with idle fingers. Shrugging, the captain turned back to the wheel and sheepishly fingered at his own coat, which was a lustrous ruby red and lined with silver. He made sure that the his hand was out of sight from the doctor behind him, then he passed his hand across the front of his shirt and smoothed out a few wrinkles. Straightening a silver button on his cuff, which was shaped as a sparrow, he sat himself up straighter as he adjusted their course. He would straighten that button another five times over the next half hour before they docked, though he could have sworn the doctor must have rebraided their hair just as many times in preparation.

Arrangement inspired by Galaxy of Snow by Azurrys

Eyes opened, blinking away snowflakes that had gathered in a heap upon closed eyelids. A mouth parted, nearby a puff of mist betrayed a stranger close. Every moment a jumble of tiny sounds, snow falling upon snow, falling against a great field of white, blanketing the world in a muffled barrier. Everything seemed to halt, grinding frosted gears in an attempt to restart time, yet every being was as still as the world itself seemed to be. White and grey dulled the world, and the world slowly dulled life until the movement of every single thing within the reach of the snow’s heavy grasp was held at bay.

Eyes looked up to the sky, and a small child followed their gaze. Wrapped in a white blanket greyed by time and use, the child appeared twice as thick as she was. Her hands were clad in threadbare mittens, though her small mouth was bared to the frigid air as though she didn’t feel the cold. Her eyes were a silvered blue, as though some metallic light shone on them, though where the light could possibly originate from in this white expanse was as valid a question as how she stood so still and yet shivered not at all.

The stranger drew close, a young man bearing browns and greys, colors still too full to blend with this snowy landscape. His breath stole out from his quivering lips in gasps, so thin were his layers of sackcloth coats. A hand, quivering against the backdrop of slowly falling snow, reached upwards to grasp the child’s blanketed shoulder, but he let it fall when he received no response. A fear, desperate in its fire and quick to bear itself to light, spurred the traveler to movement. He dragged his feet forward though the snow until he could stand before her, his chattering teeth failing to give any sort of worried request. When his eyes fell upon her face, he lost any movement his fear had slipped into his limbs, and he once again felt lost in this moment of snow and cold.

The child barely moved, her eyes glassy but alive. They almost looked too alive in this still world, as though she were the only real thing and all of this—the snow and the field stretching onward and onward, ever farther away from the path that once bore through the summer wheat stalks here—as if all of it were the dream, the spell drawn across the land as the blanket of snow. Her gaze made him shiver, her gaze made him quiver, and he found himself noticing a loss of function. Simply standing here, in front of this grey child with silvered eyes and a blanket that seemed to keep no cold at bay; agony, it seemed! His bones felt frozen, creaking with every breaking movement. His skin burned and yet felt no pain; but for a very acute fear of frostbite he could have stood blissfully unaware of how cold he really was. He wanted very much to call out, to say something to get this child to move, to go in from the cold, or at least to point him toward a shelter! Anything would be helpful to steer him away from this field. Anything did not, indeed, stir him to action. The child simply stared ahead, breaths seeming to push away snowflakes at the same time they seemed to pull them in. Only the breaths and an occasional blink served to prove to the traveler that this child was alive, though how alive could a being as ethereal as this be, he wondered.

Just as the traveler began to wonder how much longer he could stand before this child before he himself froze to the spot, the child’s eyes turned to fix the young man in a silver gaze. The fear that had engulfed him before in a momentary concern for her well-being now flared into an unconscionable aversion to this child. The traveler sucked in a single breath that filled his lungs with a freezing fire and he yelped, so loud as to send a shockwave throughout the field of snow. How this fear did not stop his heart he would wonder later, but in the moment he was filled with one desperate desire to run. Run he did, as far as running in knee-deep snow could get a frozen man. He turned and half walked and half crawled, anything his limbs would do for him so long as he could get himself farther from this child who had instilled that otherworldly fear in him.

The child remained, no movement once again as she returned her gaze forward. The snow fell, and time hung limp and heavy in its grasp. Though how much of this cold was of an unearthly magic, and how much was of an earthly blanket of clouds, none would be able to say.

What’s this? -massive shrug-
Arrangement inspired by Shiver by Loon

The air was hot with the breaths of a dozen children, and the fire crackled heartily with a joy and life that had scarce been seen all winter. A buzz ran through the group of children as then sat before the fire, fidgeting with hands and fingers and gloves all wet from the snow outside. Men stood behind them, fathers and uncles and elder brothers, all waiting in perhaps the same giddy anticipation, albeit anticipation that was slightly better veiled.

A young woman shifted from foot to foot at the end of the long room, her bare toes flexing against the soft ground as she waited with bated breath. She glanced back and forth, from the crowd gathered in front of the long fire pit, to the parted curtains she so dutifully stood before. As she looked, her fingers knotted themselves in her dress, and she sucked in breaths laden with energy only to let them huff with a sigh. Finally, acting on some unbidden queue, she straightened up and announced with a strong voice that it was finally time!

Time for what, exactly, most of the men and quite a few of the older children in the room seemed to instinctually understand, except for a few of the younger children. One little boy in particular seemed more frustrated than expectant, until, that is, he saw a line of women stroll out of the curtains and cross the room to stand on the opposite side of the fire pit. He must have understood something wonderful was about to happen at long last, for when the very last woman exited from beyond the curtained doorway, he let loose a loud gasp that reverberated through the atmosphere of the crowd.

The last woman, clad in all white, was the most beautiful of them all. Each woman had been carefully dressed in whites and blues, with white feathers and beads— and yet this one woman seemed to have been draped with silk sashes and gossamer veils twice as elaborate as the others. She was younger than some, but not nearly the youngest of the group. Her eyes were painted with a shimmery white powder, as were her lips and cheeks. On her breast lay her crossed arms, painted again in that shimmery white in broad swirls reminiscent of the winter winds. Her head was obscured partially behind one of the two veils she wore, which was weighted by beads of blue glass with swirls akin to those painted on her hands, and the other was weighted with black beads adorned with carvings of snowflakes, pulled around her shoulders to rest over her crossed arms. Her gown was multilayered silk, embroidered in gorgeous icy blues, and her feet were bare, like the rest of the women. The boy watched all of these adornments, and when she finally opened her eyes, he mouthed the word “Mama!”

The women began singing, a beautiful swelling chant overlapping like the winds’ voices themselves. Four of the youngest women, a couple barely out of their teenage years, stepped forward to perform a masterful dance, while the boy’s mother stood in the center and sang a song apart from the group. This year they had picked her especially, for not only her voice, but for her simple beauty that gave the costume an extra lovely charm. She appeared to all present the worldly incarnation of the Snow Queen herself, benevolent and beautiful. Together, each of the women sang her praises in a chorus of voices that shimmered across the scenes they depicted. They had all practiced since the onset of fall, preparing hymn after hymn to present to the Snow Queen come the Winter Solstice. Now the day had come, each woman felt a breathy excitement known only during the winter time, when they felt closer to their community and to their history as they retraced the steps of their mothers and sisters before them. Winter was for the women, whose voices carried the history of their people, and it was for the men and children to listen to the stories the loved most again and again, in order to hold them closer to their hearts.

When their voices finally trailed off and their songs ended, the whole room burst into shouts and praise, mother, sister, and daughter rushing to embrace father, brother, and son. The one quiet face, however, hovered below the Snow Queen herself as she glided over to find her husband. A kiss on his whiskered cheek left a white imprint, and she gave a breathless laugh that he returned, his hand clamped down on a small body that was positively bouncing with excitement. A smaller hand found its way into the folds of her costume, reaching up to grasp at her hand. The little boy smiled at his mother, still awestruck, and tugged her downward so he could whisper a more intimate praise into her ear. She lifted him when his voice died, and she hugged him tight to her chest, allowing her husband to remove the veil so she could hug their son close. Joining the crowd once more, the Snow Queen of the current winter patted her son on his back and laughed with her sisters.

Inspired by: This flower by Azurrys

Based on this post by Rhyme!!

forgive me for my terrible scan/edit/watercolor/lines orz
Arrangement inspired by this flower by Rhyme

Arrangement inspired by Rosy Butterfly by [@heresy]

I had to do this one too!
Arrangement inspired by Swirling Summer by Tamako

What do you do when it all goes to ruin?

They didn’t believe her, when she cried out the warnings, spoke out about the signs she saw in her dreams. Crazy Cassandra they called her, mad Cassandra, always seeing thing that aren’t there. Or, in the rare ocassions they were right, they would say worse things. That she has caused them, rather than predicted. Witch, they would whisper, behind closed doors and hidden glares. And still, she continued to speak, warning of the ill omens she say in their futures.

When smoke first began to leak from the mountain, no one made the connection between the odd occurance and the little girl who cried in the streets about fire and destruction. Later, as the ground began to poison the water and the plants, creating large zones of death, did few take up and leave. By the time it had occured to that village that perhaps the little girl ight have an ounce of truth in her, it was too late.

They had packed their wagons and prepared to leave, yes, but who could outrun a volcano? The ground began rumbling with all the anger of the gods and smoke billowed from the top of the mountain and blackened the sky. The villagers had scrabbled onto their carts and hurried away, but there were yet others who sat there and refused to leave. And so Cassandra could only stay, bound as she was to the fate of the village. If not all of the villagers would leave, neither would she.

In the end, when the volcano errupted, none were safe, not those who had made it a mile or two away nor those who stayed stuck in their homes. Ash blackened the sky and then the ground, lava covered old houses and streets.

And only Cassandra remained. And she looked around at what had once been a village, and she turned, and she slowly walked away.

“Po, Ace, Chiro,” Sindre gently scoops the three bats out of the air in turn and places them on her hat. “Normally, I wouldn’t mind you flitting around, but I’m doing some serious work here, babies.” She coos, scratching Pteropo behind his ear. “I don’t want you getting hurt, so stay there, please.” The drasilis turns her attention back to the cavern wall, eyeing it as she removes her wand from under her hat.

Taking careful aim, she gives the wand a flick, sending blue sparking magic arcing along the rock wall. Soon enough, a midsize grotto takes shape, revealing sparkling gems and geodes. Tucking the wand back into her hat, Sindre makes her way into the new cavern. The three bats perched on her hat take flight, fanning out to stick close to the walls.

“Now, my pretties, you know what we’re looking for.” Three sets of large ears rotate toward the Orange Calcite Drasilis as she expertly navigates the rocky floor along the left side of the cave. “Tourmaline is here, he has to be. I’ve searched every nook and cranny, opened countless new caves throughout this entire network. This is the last one,” Sindre’s voice quavers, almost as if her words are more for herself than her three familiars. “Tourmaline has to be here, he just has to be.”

The bats, circling counterclockwise, work their way up as Sindre makes her way in, a familiar pattern memorized through countless repetition. All four make smaller and smaller circles until all four are in the center of the grotto.

Sindre searches the bottom circle once, twice, three times, before sitting down on the outer edge of the small circle. “But, but…” She looks around wildly, ears flat against her skull, until she finally find the bats. “I don’t get it!” She calls up to them. “He’s supposed to be here. Right here!” Her arms jerk out straight in front of her before snapping back to cover the drasilis’s face. “Tourmaline is here! He is here! It’s the last place, the last place he could be!” Shuddering with sobs, Sindre slowly curls into a ball in the center of the cavern floor.

Pteropo settles into the center of the ceiling, a low, small, sad squeak slipping from him as he tucks his wings in. Chiro, her ears back, settles as close to her younger brother as she can, comforting him and seeking comfort herself. Stubbornly hanging on to Sindre’s quest, Ace first squeaks angrily at his younger siblings. When that doesn’t work he nudges them, then all but tries to tear them from their perch. And when that doesn’t work, Ace sighs dejectedly and settles next to his siblings, his head low.

Minutes pass in silence when a resounding Crack! Boom! reverberates in the rock all around the quartet. Startled, Sindre jumps up and takes a few steps away from the center circle. The bats quickly flit away from their perch and hover nearby, all three eyeing the cavern center as a beam of light arcs to the floor. A large crack appears beneath the beam, spreading to the outer edge of the center circle and widening until Sindre could settle comfortably inside with room to spare.

When the light fades, Sindre shakes her head to clearing the spots dancing before her eyes. Slowly, carefully, she makes her way to the edge of the new hole and peers over it, the bats quickly flying down to join her.

”*Gasp* Tourmaline!”

“Keshet!” Caspian scampers up on the beach excitedly, soaking wet and dripping rivulets of salt water into the sand. “I just got the greatest idea! Wouldn’t it be great if there was a volcano on you?!” His left eye sparkles excitedly.

Keshet smiles fondly at his partner from under a palm tree. “That would be, except what a volcano produces would be very painful for me.” The drasilis sprawls out under his palm tree, lazily cracking one eye open to look at the Sea deity. “And you of all creatures wouldn’t want me to be in pain, now, would you?”

Caspian pouts, his ears going back as he plops down in the wet sand. “But the water is cold.” He blinks sadly at the island’s incarnation. “And I don’t know how to warm up without messing up the whole ocean.”

Keshet chuckles, shaking his head. “Hot magma pouring down the back of my island is not the answer, Cas. Your water might cool it down and harden it, but nothing I have here would be able to do that. Besides, I don’t want to get any bigger.” The drasilis settles his head onto his forelegs, rolling his eyes again when he sees Caspian is not mollified. “Why not have it somewhere offshore, not on me, but still a part of me?”

Caspian gasps, his left eye lighting up. “That’s a wonderful idea!” Pleased, the fox tackles his partner in a wet hug before darting back down the beach and into the waves. “Don’t you worry! I’ll get started right away!” And as suddenly as he had appeared, the fox ineki disappears, swallowed by the depths of his sea.

Keshet, now as soaking wet as Caspian was, sighs heavily and hauls himself up to shake the water from his scales. Smiling at the water and shaking his head fondly, the drasilis settles back down under the tree, pillowing his head on his forelegs. “That Caspian, always something.”

“Putting along under the waves is fun.”

“There’s always new things to see,” A turtle glides through the water. “And new ways to play.” A coconut, knocked loose from its tree and found bobbing along in the waves, bounces up and down on top of the water like a ball.

“But I’d like to see what’s beyond the water.”

“Uh, Caspian?” Keshet, unusually ruffled, tugs the fox’s tails. “That coconut stopped bouncing.”

Caspian, who had been doodling idly in the sand, pricks his ears and turns his attention to his waters. “But that doesn’t make sense. It shouldn’t have been bouncing… at all.”

The pair blink at the creature that just emerged from the waves. A dog’s body, a drasilis’s muzzle, and the eyes and colors of a fish, Keshet and Caspian don’t know what to make of it.

“Hi!” It waves cheerfully, sending droplets of water flying.

Keshet recovers first. “Uh, hi?” He waves back, slowly moving to stand in front of Caspian. “I’m Keshet and this is Caspian. Who are you?”

The creature puts his paw to his chin, thinking, then shrugs. “I don’t know. Just call me Blue!” He smiles, tilting his head.

“Where did you come from?” Caspian pokes his head out from around his partner to eye Blue.

Blue just shrugs, points to the sea. “There.” He says vaguely.

Caspian blinks, narrowing his left eye. “But I’d have seen you down there. That’s my ocean, you know, and I don’t miss anything.

Blue shrugs again. “Well, must have missed me. Oh!” His attention is stolen by the coconut he was playing with as it drifts further and further away from the island. “My coconut! Goodbye!” He quickly waves to Keshet and Caspian before running toward the waves. “I really must go now, but I hope we meet again!” He dives back into the water, sending up a spray of salt water and disappearing.

Keshet and Caspian look at each other, shrug, and return to the beach to doze and doodle.

by Gabriel

By Meru

By Rhyme