Chapter Text
Zam’s skin looked radiant against the abandoned warehouse.
The soft, golden tones to her tanned flesh made her stick out like a diamond in the rough. She was yellow and bright and clinquent, so much so that it seemed to frighten the cowering creature she stretched to.
Downwards, in the middle of stone floors under industrial, rusted and dilapidated roofs, was a hole in the floor. It was square shaped, like a symmetrical box had been misplaced, leaving something like a geometric hole in the floor. Down there, wasn’t as clean as symmetry; there were a disarray of strewn sheets and food scraps and other spots of utter filth; it made her royal skin prickle. Still, despite all of her Aristocratic instincts and values, she plunged her hand into dirtied air, reaching for a discarded creature that huddled to the floor in fear of her.
He had purple eyes that watched from a cower with such terror and shock that she could feel it reflect in her own features. His haggard brown hair fell down the sides of his face in clumps, instead of light strands. Smudges of dirt and other grime caked over his skin, which seemed to be pale under all that filthyness. His clothes too, were pitifully stained and weathered. She thinks he wore a sweater and pants once, but now the sweater is stiff, and the pants have worn down to mere shorts. Behind him, flowed the only scraps of salvageable fabric; a long, violet headband that kept his long hair from his face and dangled along his back like ribbony whiskers. Zam noticed at last, the two tufts of hair pressed tighter into his skull than the rest of the mop. They were flat and paddle shaped, with little twitches that startled, then intrigued her.
Zam reached forward, with something like a pit of curiosity and jealousy. Those little ears atop the creature’s head intrigued her in such a way it felt foreign. She wanted them, wanted them so bad that it sent chills through her spine and fingertips. She wants to wear them, or hold them, or prod them. They look soft; she wondered if they were soft.
With her glittery eyes and noble accent, she urged the pit-dweller closer. She cooed and assured like she was talking to a stray dog. He seemed smarter than a dog; she could promise him food without having to show it first. That made things easy.
Before the pit in her abdomen could envelope her fully, a grimy and cold hand grasped her. It gave her shaky faith with rigid fingers that seemed to hesitate when she tried to pull them up. She pulled and cooed so much her body ached, but in the end, it was worth it.
He was taller than she was, even when she wore her crown and his ears flattened against his head. His eyes were almost as cold and numb as his pallid skin, and even when it ached her to touch such a poor thing, she laid her hands on his wrists.
In that old, cursed factory that everyone in her kingdom was barred from investigating, she’d found treasure. Fluffy ears, the palest skin to juxtapose her own sunkissed tones, and vibrant purple hues she’s sure she could bring out with a wardrobe change and bath. Next to her, he’d look amazing.
.. .. .. ..
The mirror in Wifies’ bedroom always taunted him.
He looks fancy. He looks cleaner than he could ever feel.
His hair is parted neatly down the middle, and his bangs hang low enough to frame his face nicely. Strands hang light and fluffy, bringing out all of the hidden pigments and variations he’d have never noticed if he hadn’t always spent so long in the mirror each morning. His eyes were sharp with purple, they always are. His skin is smooth and pale, and uncomfortable.
Over his forehead is his purple bandana. Unlike every other piece of his clothes that had been scraped when Madam Zam discovered him four years ago, the bandana had remained. It was straight and tied into an elegant bow on the back of his head, so the strands didn't drift too far down his back. They stayed tight and bound, so they swept at his shoulders. Wifies will always miss the feeling of those long ribbons flowing behind him as they barely tether. They’re almost like extensions of him; wrapping them up in a pretty bow for looks-sake was nauseating.
Really, Wifies should be used to that feeling by now.
Today, he’s wearing a Victorian style army coat over the frilliest undershirt. The undershirt’s white sleeves bound tightly around his wrists like shackles connected to his shoulders. The complementary shorts are too stiff for his liking as well, and they’re a little too high. Everything feels tight and wrong, including the decorative ribbon bow tied around his neck. Of course, everything was purple too.
Madam Zam loved purple, much more than Wifies ever had.
The only positive he can find in this stiffened coat is the long backside. It falls mid length to his thighs, and covers the floppy brown tuft of hair connected to his tail-bone. It’s more like an accessory these days; he’s taught himself not to move that tail no matter his emotions. Miss Zam either loves or loathes him whenever he slips up and wags or tucks at a wrong moment. Honestly, both are equally bad, so he’d rather see neither.
His tail feels numb anyways; he probably couldn’t move it if he even wanted too.
The thing he couldn’t hide though, were the velvety canine ears sprouting from his skull. Madam Zam doesn’t let him wear hats, and she’d rave at anything else he tried in an attempt to hide them. Both of his hands drifted up, each latching around a fluffy brown ear and a few strands of hair. His fingers clawed, and palms tightened as he pulled his fists away and up, with the ears still in them.
It hurts at first, it always does.
He feels the skin threatening to rip. The muscles and veins twist and kink so he winces at every little tug. Hair comes out with his fists, snapping and sending tingles through his head that make him so much more aware that he’s trying to rip a physical part of him away without anything but his fists. He always tries though, and like today, he’s unsuccessful.
Wifies let out a shaky breath, and stared through the mirror with tears webbed in the corners of his eyes. His vision is blurry, and he expected to see red when his hands dropped from his head, but no such thing was there. Around his ears was just brown fur and rustled brown hair he now needed to re-brush.
So he did that. He combed his hair back to a perfect middle part, with the ornate brush set on his night stand. Once he was finished, he set it down, and ignored his bedroom mirror in favor of the door.
..
Zam wasn’t on the throne when he entered the main room. She was standing next to it, hands leaned over the armrest and her head resting with a maniac’s grin. It only got sharper as she spotted Wifies.
“Good morning, darling.”
Her voice flowed through the room like a breeze of razor blades. It nipped at his skin and ruffled through the deepest parts of his hair.
She stood and corrected her posture into something much more royal, “We’ve got a tea party to attend.” Her gloved hands slid together and she blinked with her long, fluttery eyelashes, “Don’t I look nice, Wifies?”
Madam Zam wore yellow; she always wore yellow. Today, it was a dress with white accents and frills that poured out from the bottom of the dress and pillowed around her knees. She had long, pale socks to match, her yellow skin tone peeking through the fabric and making them as golden as she. Her hair was curled into neat waves that swirled around her back and shoulders. Of course, she was also wearing her crown; it looked less golden since she was under it.
“Of course, Madam.”
She beamed wide, her polite smile twisting into a sunny grin that showed all of her pearly teeth and their slight points. Soon, she was skipping over,and Wifies could feel hands on his cheeks. She was cupping his face so tightly, his tongue felt crowded in his mouth.
“You’re really too kind, my dear.” Her thumb traced circles of Wifies’ skin, and he tried not to blink too much as she stared into his eyes with raptorial, pure black pupils. Her face hardly moved as her lips parted, and she whispered to him, “You look nice today as well. I love the color purple on you, it makes you such a pretty little thing.”
Breathing was hard. It only got harder as her hands snaked to his head, and uneven, slightly painful pressures flowed down from the top of his skull.
Goosebumps rose on his arms as his ears twitched in a futile attempt to rid the touchy princess.
“God, your ears are so soft. I wish I could walk around all day with my hands resting atop your head…” She sighed, shallow and breathy, “Though I suppose it’d make it difficult to walk with any class.” She solemnly lowered her hands and shook her head with a practiced frown, “I suppose I'll just have to wait until tonight.”
Wifies swallowed, and even if it felt dry, he could still feel himself drowning.
His head was blank, like he was shoved under icy salt water by the cold hands caressing his face. His lungs ache from a lack of oxygen; he’s got little left when Madam Zam takes and takes everything she can.
Madam Zam cackles for a splitting moment, leaning back and bringing Wifies stumbling forward with her,
“We’re meeting the Mafia Queen today, Wifies!” She twisted and danced around in circles, bringing her wobbly pet with her, “She’s wanted to meet us at that pretty Garden! The one with so many colors of flowers—It makes me dizzy!”
“Oh–Wifies, my darling! What flowers bloom this time of year?”
He spoke flatly, “There’s many—”
“Oh, but tell me something rare!”
His mind drifted to the brilliant blue he’d seen in a book. The only times madam Zam left him alone was the midnight hours after she’d fallen asleep, so Wifies no longer had to rest beside her. He would silently slink away each night, to the small library room with the large circular window that lit the whole area with the shape of the moon. Recently, he’d been enchanted with a book of flowers. It only felt right to tell her about the little blue blooms atop the snakey and thin grasses.
“I believe the Gentians are blooming around now.”
She lit up, her eyes gleaming so brightly, like they were trying to outshine the moon in his memories of blissful library nights, “Gentians! Oh-Gentians! The name sounds wonderful by itself!”
She tugged him closer and planted a soft peck on his forehead.
“Oh we needn’t be late! But you must tell me about the Gentians!” Her hand firmly wrapped around his, and it took everything in him to not wince away as her nails scratched into his palm.
Around a year ago, the garden had been built directly next to the castle at Madam Zam’s request. She’d ensured it was in walking distance from her throne, yet Wifies had hardly ever been. Most days, he wanders within the confines of a golden plated edifice, stealing glances of the garden from high windows whenever one of Madam Zam’s guards weren’t looking. Some guards were more attentive than others; he always hoped for Manepear.
Soon they were standing in front of blooms.
The garden was a rectangular shape boxed in with golden gates and lamp posts. In the center was an ornate round table with decorated chairs. The entrance was an archway of sorts, with vines of lavender clematis tangled through the grate.
A jungle of spindly golden wires could have been impressive enough without the brilliant petals nestled beside each fence piece. There were the shifting hydrangeas, that presented so many colors, Wifies could have never guessed there to be so many. There were the vivid red Habiscus trees, with such long and thick anthers they resembled the metal pieces of the archway. Then, Wifies spotted the Moonflower bulbs; they hadn’t bloomed in the midday sun, and they wouldn’t emerge until the sun died down. Wifies wished to see them, because he’d only read of them and their fragrance in textbooks. In fact, most of the flowers he was seeing were new and unrecognisable to him. They were colorful and lively, so different from illustrations on paper, that he could hardly consider them to be the same subject!
Like every facet of Zam’s empire, guards awaited them at the archway. Both had feline tails that swished behind them as they leaned against the fences, their netherite armour glinting in the sun. Both had swords proudly displayed on their back, which were also made of the lava-proof underworld material that defined an empire’s wealth these days.
Of course, they both straightened as soon as Madam Zam was spotted. The slightly taller one, with orange ears and a thin, windy tail perked up and raised his hand in a wave. The smaller, more lean one soon followed.
“Mornin’”
“Good morning boys. Are the guests here?”
The orange one nodded, “Mrs. Squiddo is waiting for you in the garden.”
“No Ashwag?”
“No Ma’am, she came alone with two body guards." The orange one pointed behind some bushes, “They’re invisible, but they’re wearing boots as Mrs. Squiddo instructed them to.”
The other chimed in, “Mrs. Squiddo’s brought a gift for you as well!”
Madam Zam smirked, and waved to the duo, “Well—I won’t keep her waiting long.”
She didn't hesitate at the archway much longer. Her pace quickened to a glide, with Wifies trailing her like a wagon, his hands acting like the tongue as she tugged him along. Soon, they approached the stone table, and the patiently sat individual waited for their arrival. They chirped as soon as Zam wrapped her hands around one of the chairs.
“Zam!” They folded their hands together and leaned closer, eyes beaming behind the rosy lens they wore, “Zam—You look so elegant today!” They started to gesture madly at Madam Zam’s dress, “God! look at those frills! I wish I could pull such a dress off!”
“Nonsense, my dear Squiddo! I wish I could pull off such a sunny orange!” She pointed back at Mrs. Squiddo’s dress. It was a warm orange color fashioned into a tight top with loose sleeves. The bottom, dress part, wasn’t nearly as puffed and large as Madam Zam’s, but it still draped over the wearer’s chair like a cascade. “It matches your eyes, dear!”
“Oh enough with the flattery! I’m going to get a stomach ache from how sweet your words are.” Madam Zam took a seat, and the orange aristocrat turned her attention to the awkward mess of purple among their sunny pallet, “I see you’ve brought Wifies with you.”
“Of course,” Zam firmly tugged his arm, telling him to sit soon or else.
“I think he looks nice in the garden, and I simply love that outfit,” She absentmindedly fiddled with the bow around Wifies’ neck, keeping her attention on Squiddo. Both of them treated him like a mannequin. “I want to tailor more like it, but my seamstress has been busy recently.”
“Loppezz always does such a nice job.” Suddenly Mrs Squiddo flinched up, with new sparkles in her eyes, “Oh! I’ve gotten you a gift!”
“Hm–so I’ve heard! Flamefrags told me about this,”
“Ack! I told him not to tell you!”
Zam giggled, her hand delicately thrown over her face, “I guess I’ll have to punish him later!”
Squiddo sighed as she heaved a decorated box onto the table. It looked wooden and varnished. It also had golden ribbons and tassels wrapped furiously around it like the box itself was an expressionist’s art piece.
Madam Zam immediately marveled at the thing, and her gloved palms were smoothing over the swirls in the wood, “What a fancy box! I can only imagine what may be inside!”
“Ashwag secured one of these from a farming town; I thought such a pretty thing would look best on you.”
Wifies had been staring at Squiddo, so he hadn’t noticed Madam Zam peel open the box. When he looked back, she had her hands thrown over her face in shock, and color rushed to her cheeks in such delight, Wifies’ spine started to tingle by proxy. Her claws pried out something opalescent, with shifting colors behind a milky glass texture in the shape of a star. I wasn’t a big object, but its aura started to suffocate Wifies even though he was outside.
“...My lord Squiddo—I…I–”
Mrs. Squiddo shook her head and leaned her arms over the table, placing her cheeks over her palms and staring at Zam with the smugest–kind look.
Madam Zam’s lips curled into a smile so wide, Wifies might actually believe the phrase “smiling ear to ear” to no longer be an exaggeration. The crystalline star was raised to her eyes, and the whole glassy surface lit up with her golden features.
“...A nether star,” The admiration in her voice was strong, almost as strong as the grasp she held on the tiny glass star, “It’s simply beautiful.”
Squiddo and Madam Zam laughed and complimented each other a lot that evening. The “tea party” stretched for hours, until the sun began to hang close to the horizon, and the flowers started to close for fear of the nightly chill.
Wifies felt much like those flowers. He was sitting at this table, not as a guest, but as Zam’s pretty and unique ornament. As the sun dropped, he felt himself start to close up. First, his ears as he started to tune out the royal banter, then his eyes blurred from staring at nothing for too long and finally, he realized how numb his legs had gotten from remaining frozen for so long.
Of course, unlike the flowers, Wifies still has much to do after the moon comes.
“Squiddo—I cannot thank you enough for this gift. It’s simply wonderful,” She raised it from the box again and looked through it, “I’ll be sure to find you something as great for the next time we meet!”
“Hm! I look forward to that,”
Soon they’d stood from their chairs, and Wifies tried his best not to wobble after them. Madam Zam continued to marvel at her new treasure, while Mrs. Squiddo stepped around the circular table, extending her hand to Wifies.
“I wouldn’t mind my own Wifies,” She took his palm in hers and placed a small wrapped object in it. It was round and hard; Wifies knew it was some sort of candy, and he felt the most joy he’d had the entire day imagining what flavor it could be. Mrs. Squiddo placed the same hand atop his head, ruffling softly while joking with Zam, “Such a polite one,”
“One of my greatest treasures, really. I’ve never found another like him, but if I do, you’ll be the first to hear of it.”
Madam Zam and Squiddo finally bid their goodbyes. It took some time, with a lot of interrupting flattery and jokes, but before the sun could fully drop below the sky, Squiddo was rounding up her guards, and walking to the entrance.
Zam swiftly took Wifies’ hand. It was rough and greedy like she was trying to shackle him to herself.
Wifies didn’t dwell on the slight pain in his hands though. Instead, he wondered what flavor the hard candy in his other palm could be.
..
Wifies laid flat on his back on golden threaded bedspreads that were too rich and thick for his liking.
A yellow arm draped over his stomach, and the pressure was more intense than the weight itself. Even while Madam Zam sleeps, she can’t release him.
Wifies has done this routine for years. He’ll walk Madam Zam to her room and sit on the bed while she talks of frivolous royal matters that a mere pet like him would never understand. Sometimes, she brushes his hair. Her combs are too solid, and her hands are too careless,so it feels like she may as well just carve through him with her fingernails. Other times, she pulls outfit after outfit from her closet, dressing him up like some doll. After all of that, she’ll flop down on the bed and wrap her arms around him. He can only leave near midnight, when she loosens her grasp in sleep and falls into a deep enough dream to where she won't awake during his escape.
Wifies got lucky tonight; she’d rolled away earlier than usual. Taking his chance, he sliped away and climbed onto the floor. Wifies had always been trained to be silent, so his footsteps were nonexistent.
He would not be so lucky though, when he tried the door. His hand twisted the knob, but instead of a soft click, he hit a forceful thud. He tried a couple more times, a drowned dismay settling down in his stomach as each failed attempt affirmed deeper that he’d never leave this room tonight.
So, he’d gone to the window.
The moon was a perfect bisect tonight. The edge was so clean and defined, Wifies wondered how such a thing could be natural. A deity, or a goddess of sorts must have cut it. Wifies laid his hands over the window sill and wondered if that goddess would sever the earth too. She could cut it into two halves, the fissure being right in the middle of himself and the bed.
Wifies never saw a god that night. Instead he saw something else elysian in the garden.
He was blue, or maybe a minty green. Atop his head was messy brown hair not too different from Wifies’, but with a much redder tone. He wore a bare dress shirt, with nothing royal or classy covering him. He seemed to be stretching the two long wings sprouting from his back; They stretched around the flowers, crowding their beauty with the magnificence of his moonlit feathers. That’s what Wifies saw the most; feathers.
They looked soft; he imagined running his fingers through them. They’d start off fluffy at the base of the wing, with the daft, short and fluffed feathers that keep birds warm. The feathers’ spines would be stiff and sturdy like branches, and the feather fluff would turn into defined strands. They’d feel like bits of grass under his fingers, and he’d be gentle in fear that he’d hurt or bend them. He wouldn’t tug at them, or use some wiry comb that slices through hair so easily. He’d use his fingers, soft and slowly.
Part of him wondered if he’d ever get such an opportunity.
Wifies is watching from a captor’s window. He’s watching a garden he may never get to visit again, outside in an area Zam would never let him into by himself. He’s watching an ethereal person who he’ll likely never meet, stand by themselves in a nightly garden, which he’ll never get to do, and stretch the free wings that he’ll never get to touch.
Somehow, the stranger found their gaze at Wifies’ window. Their eyes were hazel brown, like their moppy hair.
For a while, neither moved. They stared at each other from what seemed like different worlds. One was a free bird stretching his wings in a lonesome garden, while the other stayed locked in an aristocrat’s room, with his headband bound in a tight bow.
Before he could stop himself, Wifies’ tail was wagging softly…
That hadn’t happened in awhile.