[BROWTOBER] Ink | Pumpkins | Fall Carnival | Warmth | The Hunt | Secrets | In The Shadows | Liminal Space

Ink

“Counterfeits, huh?” 

“Of course! Convincing enough that not even the other rings around here will notice. You can square off some debts, maybe even shmooze a bit from up top and then you are free.” Keno slid the papers towards the tentative patron across from him. “Making these is risky business though. I need some sort of collateral from you to make sure you won’t just rat me out. But I promise you that these–” The bird’s sharp claw tapped at the table, "will get you wherever you want to go.”

“Have you ever been caught for this?”

“C’mon, I’m a professional, don’t insult me to my face. I wouldn’t have a head if I’d been caught, unless you think you’re talking to a ghost.”

“You work under Crescenzo though, and his attack dog– if something goes wrong it’ll go very damn wrong.” Whether they were superstitious or not didn’t show on the worried face.

“Wow…you’ve done your homework, haven’t ya?” Keno smacked his lips and leaned back in the plush chair that squeaked just loud enough to make the two cringe in unison. They needed to be quiet, not draw any unwarranted attention to one of the casino’s many nooks. 

The red browbird cleared his throat quietly and lowered his voice. “Look. Caution? I get it. But I also know that I have some of the best resources here because of my boss. My counterfeits are the only ones that actually look legitimate. Being so close to the real records has its benefits.”

“That…does make sense. But why double cross him?”

“Because! We all have debts! I help you square yours and you help me meagerly pick at mine.” Keno threaded his fingers and set his chin upon the tops of them, a smile curling across his face. “So about that collateral…”

Pumpkins

“You know, I don’t think I ever really appreciated pumpkins until after my fields were gone.” Ash’s head tilted towards the other halv that sat with him. Malachi’s carving knife stilled and the large eyes shifted from their task to lock with the golden pair that studied him.

“You were a farmer before, right?” The blue bird had gotten snippets of what had befallen Ash all those years ago, but the details were still veiled and held close to the other’s chest. All he knew for certain was that Ash had died in those fields before something had pulled him back, much like himself. 

“I was! I mostly found delight in corn though. Everything else fell flat to me, but after that raid happened…I don’t know, I kind of miss having a field of these things. I never cared for the taste admittedly, so it was a crop that went to the rest of my flock, but seeing them makes me nostalgic now.”

“We could try to start a garden. I’m sure there’s space around here somewhere.” Mal’s head swiveled as he took in the grounds that they’d taken up as home. It was them plus a few others under the watchful eye of another strange bird, but he doubted any of them would have minded the peace a garden would have brought. The pop of color might have been nice too, as most of the stained glass that had once decorated the derelict chapel had been smashed out from mysterious tenants long ago.

“Bad dirt, unfortunately. But I appreciate the sentiment.” Ash’s slim shoulders shrugged, though a smile tugged at his lips. He turned his attention back to the gutted gourd in Malachi’s hands and at the face that looked eerily similar to the mask that would overtake his features. “I think for now I’ll just appreciate them like this.” 

Fall Carnival

“But I want to see the carnival!”

“Shh, shh! We’re not even really supposed to be out right now! You get spotted and we’re both dead meat!” Faust pulled the hood back over Astora’s head and began to tie the ribbon in the front into a more secure bow. “Unless you want that!”

“No I’m just bored, and you’re such a stickler!” The browbird’s bottom lip worried itself into a pout. His arms crossed over his chest as he watched his green comrade adjust his hood over his horns for the umpteenth time. “It’s not my fault you stole me, you know.”

“Saved you.” The cultist corrected with a bit of a hiss. Astora had been slated for sacrifice and he’d risked everything to get the spoiled little thing out of the situation, yet that was the very sincere thank you he’d been given day in and out since going through the effort. He tried not to hold it against the other, Astora hadn’t been privy to the details he had, but the least he could do was listen until they were in a safer area. 

“Mhm... You know I may as well be dead if I don’t ever get to do anything. Why would you bring me over this way if we’re not even going to pursue the stalls!” The heavy theatrics did nothing but cause Faust to tug the ends of the ribbon tighter against the candle-like bird’s neck.

“I have friends here and I’m going to ask for some help. Nothing more, nothing less. We just have to keep our heads down until we’re off this planet because there’s also people here looking for us.” Astora’s eyes shifted downward as he noticed Faust’s hands shaking. “Please try to blend in for now. I’ll bring you to every carnival you could ever hope for after this, but we need to make it out of here alive first.”

“You mean that?”

“I do, now please just keep a low profile.” Faust gave a sigh of relief when Astora nodded to him, seeming to have more of a grasp of the stakes. As much as he too would have liked to indulge in the festivities there was no time for it, not when they both ran the risk of losing their lives.

Warmth

To be out of the earth was to be away from what was safe. As winter slowly began to claim the seasons it was pivotal to take advantage of each ray of sunshine, every warm current or the stray heat from a fire long snuffed. Moreau stood at the edge of the grand forest and peered out to the festivities that had overtaken the area. Perhaps something to do with harvest or a fair to bid farewell to autumn. 

Whatever it had been for it was hard to look away from. It all seemed so warm. The soft oranges and yellows beckoned like a comforting hand. Pleasant music thrummed and echoed through the area before being deafened by the thick trees. The scents from the stalls of food had been strong enough to be carried on even the gentlest of breezes and towards where clawed feet remained planted.

“We could go down there.” The low voice reverberated in the smaller bird’s skull, where the mere suggestion had dared to crumble his foundation.

“...I…think that would be…ill advised.” Pupils that reflected in the dark shifted to focus on Bram’s tall figure. The browbird’s lantern lifted to pull the shadows from each of their faces, and so he could properly read the trepidation that had carried on Moreau’s tone. 

“Aye, perhaps.” He had only just dug Moreau from the shallow grave he’d been left in, after all. Neither of them looked as if they could blend in with what must have been quite the party. “A fire instead then?”

Moreau’s long, strange tail coiled around himself as if to capture some of the same warmth that he spied upon. “That’d be nice…”

The Hunt

Ezra’s heart hammered heavy in his chest. His back had been pressed hard into the rough bark of one of the many gnarled trees that made up the forest he’d wandered too far into. The browbird bounced on his toes as he counted down the seconds before making the attempt to move forward again. He was sure the direction he’d picked was correct and the edge of the forest was near, but as the sun set lower behind the canopy it felt impossible to gauge.

Something, though he couldn’t tell what, had been tailing him for the better half of the day. It was only when it had gotten close enough several hours earlier that he’d noticed all of the bright orange eyes. His fight or flight had activated like a lighter igniting and he’d taken off on agile feet without another look back. Whatever the creature was, it was persistent, yet oddly and mercifully loud. 

Somewhere in the bird’s mind he thought that the noise being made may have been intentional. He could track where the beast was with his tall ears, sure, but it kept him perfectly hinged on fear. There was no reprieve or false hope that he’d lost whatever the thing had been. It was playing with its food. Far off in the distance he could once again hear the snapping of twigs and the shuffling of brush being moved aside. He swore a laugh had cut through the stillness, but with how overworked his brain had been it easily could have been a hallucination.

It wasn’t the first time he’d been hunted, but he was determined to make sure the monstrosity didn’t make it the last either.

Secrets

“I know there’s something strange about you.” Blair peered over the edge of the Inkwell and into the curious void that stared back. The young bird brought his camera to his face and zoomed in as far as the piece of tech could go, recording the whole time. Perhaps he could catch something later when he played the footage back on his computer. “No one knows what you are, not for real anyway, just that you’re…weird.”

The investigator lowered the camera and snapped the little screened door shut on its side. “I come here every year and something always happens and I know it’s because of whatever is going on with you.” It wasn’t a very profound statement, he hadn’t been the first and surely wouldn’t be the last to attempt to tie pieces of red string together when it came to the Inkwell. It was an epicenter and a draw for a reason, and it wasn’t simply because of Candleblight. Any curious sort worth their salt would have stared into the nothingness and wondered the same. 

“...Has anyone fallen into this before? Or jumped in? Or tried to explore it?” The bird pulled a pen from his pocket and bit the cap off, where he hastily scrawled “spelunking” onto the back of his furred hand. “All of these strange, deep pits are just popping up all over the place. I wonder if you’re a portal? Maybe just a black hole…” 

Whatever the Inkwell was, or whatever the Starwell had been, would just remain a secret until it truly wanted to reveal itself. 

In The Shadows

“My liege, are you present?” Yellow eyes scanned the dark parlor for any signs of movement or life. There were no candles that had been hastily blown out, nor was there abandoned tea or something telltale to give away any signs of recent activity. When the knight had almost deemed the room empty a small clearing of the throat caught his attention. “Ah, so you are here.”

“I suppose if you are unable to sniff me out then I’m safe from the rest of the lot.” A reflective shine pulled Jupiter’s eyes back towards a particularly dark shadow. The hiros he’d been searching for stepped from the blackness he’d been cloaked in for the majority of the evening. His large wings stretched out as if they’d been stuffed in a particularly uncomfortable position for far too long, before being refolded elegantly against the slim back.

“Permission to speak plainly?”

“...Hesitantly granted.” Pale brows narrowed, but it was an expression that the young king often wore. Nothing unusual that would have shaken his knight.

“Percival…really, you can make an appearance at your own party.”

“Ah, I’d much prefer gaslighting everyone into thinking we had a pleasant yet quick conversation after I make a very brief appearance at the end of the event. Because obviously I was just so busy being social that I only had mere moments to connect with that individual before I was off to the next. I’ve done it before successfully, I’m sure I could…do it again…” 

“Mhm. And if your court asks about you?”

“I don’t know, get them drunk. I find these sorts of settings dreadful, I’d much rather hide off here or…invest in a doppelganger if I’m being far too frank and honest with you.” The gala wasn’t something he’d personally set up anyway, it was merely a tradition that had been locked into calendars long before his time. Having inherited his birthright of the crown seemed to come with more headaches than bonuses. “Can’t you just leave me in the shadows?”

Jupiter paused, seeming to mull over if the question had been rhetorical or not. His duty said no but his loyalty to the moody king said otherwise. “Fine...however your “very brief” appearance had better be the most convincing thing you’ve ever done. Otherwise I’m sure more of these little parties will be spitefully set up to knock you down a peg.”
“Alright, far too plain, your advice is noted though; thank you.” The hiros rolled his eyes and stalked back towards solitude. He could hear his knight snort a laugh and as the long claws clicked against the marble floors and down the hall he was once again alone.

Liminal Space

Fingers outstretched and ghosted over the stalks of the corn as Ash walked along the familiar rows. To be back alongside the endlessness that the acreage provided was nothing short of a relief for him. As the fields dipped and created a boundless sea of green and gold the halv stood at the highest point his feet could find. The bedrock itself seemed to sink lower into the soil to provide more of an ideal vantage point so he could marvel at the sights. He would have continued to terraform the planet in impossible ways if it had let him, but it stopped just clear of making a hill.

But far off over the fuzzy tops of the stalks he could see…nothing. Not more corn. No more fields. No endless swaying of the stalks that rocked in a breeze that never could reach him. It implied that past a point the world just stopped. Above him was an equally similar sort of nothingness, just the black of the endless abyss that seemed like it was barely held back by gravity. The oppressive state of everything and nonexistence he toed.

It was a dream he’d had every night since he’d died. He found it peculiar, some of the strange undead beings he’d spoken with in his time since being reborn had told him they no longer dreamed or even slept. But not him, no, instead the recurring visuals served as a tether and a reminder to keep calm. Even as the world crashed down on him he could still find some sense of tranquility. Liminality was just the perfect vessel for such inner peace.