oldspruceinn

[oldspruceinn]

Hell's Coming With Me, Part Five

The Devil That You Forgot

Mentions of religion and vampires. This one is fun, Spruce gets Angry.

This was familiar. It was all familiar. They knew this iconography, this mask, these shackles. This brutality, laid bare in front of them.

They had done this before.

Spruce was silent as they worked on removing the mask from the sleeping vampire. They collected each piece of silver, tucking it away in a bag on their hip. They were silent, and their hands were steady, and their mind raced.

They had to stay calm now. Anger here would only hurt the fragile vampire under their hands. The time for anger was later.

They closed their eyes and took a deep breath, in and out. In and out.

In. And. Out.

Focus.

This vampire was fully undead. They didn't have a pulse, which meant there was no parasite keeping them alive.

A different kind of vampire from Katy.

That didn't matter. They trusted Katy. She was the expert, she would know what to do. She would figure it out.

Gods, she was probably panicking. A different kind of vampire, after almost two centuries. But they knew she'd figure it out. She always did. She always had.

She was at their side now, working to free burnt skin from the cursed metal. It was easier with two sets of hands. Her hands were gentler, more practiced in the care of wounds. And they worked patiently with the pliers, their hands more practiced in the working of metal.

They knew Katy knew how angry they were— she could read them like a book. They also knew she would assume it was just because a vampire had been tortured. Which was, of course, a completely valid reason to be this angry.

But it wasn't the only reason.

They rested their hand on Katy's shoulder when they were finished, just for a moment. A quiet reassurance that they weren't mad at her. She tended to need those when vampires were involved, even all these many years later. She leaned her head against their wrist.

"You're doing good, Katydid." Their voice was hardly a whisper at her shoulder, but she gave them a tiny nod. As they left the room, bag of silver in hand, they tapped their fingers across Atlas's shoulder. Their old signal for "Talk soon, when you can, not mad." Not an emergency, just urgent. Atlas smiled up at them and nodded. He just had to make sure the vampire woke first. They ruffled his hair fondly before closing the door behind them.

——

Atlas knew to find them in the shop.

Atlas did not expect to find them holding a sword.

Or… plating the sword in the silver they had taken off the vampire.

He remembered Spruce being a fine swordsman, sure, but that had been back before he took over. Those skills clearly hadn't faded, though. Their movements were practiced, precise. Exuding a confidence Atlas had rarely seen.

"Is everything okay, Sprucey?"

"Pepper Hollow?" Their voice was sharp, abrupt. Unexpected.

"Um, what?"

Spruce turned to look at Atlas, and despite knowing that they weren't angry at him, he still took a step back.

"The vampire. You found them in Pepper Hollow, right?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I did. How did you— ?"

"Because last time I was there, I was too late."

Atlas waited quietly for an explaination as Spruce carefully carved that same iconography that had been on the shackles into the silver plating on the sword.

"I told them I'd be back. In no uncertain terms. I told them there would be hell to pay."

It was unsettling to see Spruce— normally so cheerful and kind and inviting— so filled with rage. Atlas had heard the stories, of course, but…

"I'm taking Dahlia with me."

"What?! You can't take her, she's older than me! She's just a donkey, Spruce, she's not immortal. Take Polaris, or Andy. They're used to the work, they know the roads."

They shook their head. "Dahlia has always gone with me. Don't worry about her, she's tougher than she seems."

As if on cue, Dahlia brayed behind Atlas, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. She glared at him and stomped her hoof.

"You can't ride her, Spruce. And it took my team nearly a day to get us home." He scratched her forelock and she snorted, still annoyed at him, but allowed it.

"I don't need to ride, Atlas." There was an edge to their voice he had never heard before. Certainly never pointed at him. They stepped past him to grab their leather oil and started working it into well-worn gauntlets.

"Okay, well can I at least come with you?"

Spruce paused their work for a moment to look at the orc. "That depends. Do you ever want to go back there again?"

Atlas took a deep breath and groaned. "Okay. So you and Dahlia are going to walk to Pepper Hollow and what, threaten them? I already concussed two of their guards!"

"Oh! Good job, son." Their tone had calmed, some. They stepped past him again to grab more leather strips to adjust the weight of the sword's handle. "Was the preacher there?"

He thought for a moment. "No, I don't think so. Just the guards. No one else was interested in anything going on. Ignored the vampire, ignored me, ignored the guards on the ground."

They raised an eyebrow. "They sold you a vampire without permission from the preacher? Damn. You must have been convincing."

He shrugged. "I'm an orc. They were scared of me. Like everyone else."

Spruce scoffed at that. "They wanted rid of them. I wonder if they remembered you're my kid. That would be impressive." Not impossible, though. They knew the preacher kept tabs on things like that.

It would make sense. If they'd seen Atlas, they may have known he would tell Spruce. Maybe Oscar was supposed to be some sort of … peace offering?

Ha.

Spruce started to step past him again, so he reached out and grabbed their shoulder. "Spruce, stop. Please. Tell me what's going on."

Spruce rubbed their face, apparently oblivious to the grime and oil now streaked over their skin. They took a deep breath. In and out.

"I'm sorry. You're right." Deep breath. In and out.

In, and out.

"Years and years ago, before you came along, I ended up out that way. I heard squealing, like a mouse dying, but all… drawn out. Too loud. I heard laughter, so I followed the sound. There were four vampires there, strung up like yours was." They grimaced, then corrected themself.

"Well, there had been four vampires. Three had disintegrated.

"I begged and pleaded and threatened and bribed, trying to get them to pull the last one down out of the sun. And they did, eventually. I undid her shackles and chains as quick as I could, covered her, tried to feed her, but she withered away in my arms as I struggled with her mask. This same kind of mask. They laughed at me. Kicked me as I held her, told me to get lost. Told me vamp sympathizers weren't welcome.

"I promised them I'd be back. I never told Katy. Couldn't bear to. And I got so busy here that I haven't made it back. Was hoping they would just... straighten themselves out. But now, it sounds like it's time I pay a visit."

Spruce slumped against the wall and lowered themself to the floor. Atlas sat next to them and rested a hand on their knee.

"You're sure you don't want me to come?"

Spruce shook their head. "I don't want you getting hurt. This is personal for me, I'll handle it personally."

"Okay. I won't try to stop you. But you have to at least eat dinner with everyone before you go."

Spruce snorted, but smiled for the first time since they'd seen the vampire as Atlas echoed their own words back at them. "Yeah yeah, alright. Dinner first."

Taglist: @rainbowsandwhumperflies @wolfeyedwitch @littlebookworm69

[oldspruceinn]

Hell's Coming With Me, Part Four

This one is pretty light. Reference to previous mistreatment. Fear of self as monster. Mostly just Cricket being cute

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Masterlist

Cricket had been listening.

Cricket listened all the time now, to anything they could hear. After they'd learned it was encouraged, they couldn't stop.

Once all the commotion downstairs died down, they decided it was their turn to meet the newcomer. They seemed scared. Cricket could relate to that.

They made a trip to Spruce's special closet, taking special care in their choice. It had to be perfect to welcome the newcomer. When they were satisfied, they descended the stairs.

Cricket examined the room as they entered. Katy looked exhausted. The newcomer had some kind of red drink and looked like they were in bad shape.

They were drinking from a much larger vial than they'd ever seen Katy give anyone. Poor guy must have really needed help.

They knew they should get Katy's permission first, not just barge in. "[Katy] [hm?] [New] [friend] [hm?]"

Katy nodded. "Yeah, they're safe. Cricket, this is Oscar. Oscar, Cricket. You can say hi."

Oscar looked from Cricket to Katy, eyes wide with panic. "No, they're a kid, I don't, I can't—"

Oh gods please, I don't wanna hurt a kid, please don't send me back, please don't let me hurt a kid, no no no—

"Easy Oscar, relax. If you were going to hurt someone, you would have already. You've had ample opportunity. You aren't feral, it's okay." And then she just… went back to writing notes! Like there wasn't a monster next to a child.

They weren't even muzzled or shackled or anything! They weren't restrained at all. This wasn't safe. It wasn't fair. Sure, they didn't have fangs but that didn't make them harmless!

Oscar decided that their best course of action would be to stay completely still. If they didn't move, they couldn't hurt anyone. If they didn't hurt anyone… maybe they would at least be able to heal more before they got nailed up outside again. Just one more day of rest? One more day without the muzzle?

They could be good. They could be good. They would be good. They had to be good.

Cricket approached, seemingly oblivious to Oscar's internal panic. They paused at their side. "[Can] [touch] [hm?]"

Oscar looked to Katy, eyes wide. This was a trap. It had to be a trap. Katy just shrugged.

"You have every right to say no. They won't be offended. And even if they were, no one here can make you do anything. It's up to you."

Why was she giving them a choice? A choice like this? In that warm voice, like they were some hurt kid and not a vampire?

Well... they knew they didn't actually have a choice. Not really. Saying no had never worked in the past. They were a monster, they didn't get choices. Just because everyone was pretending to be all nice and soft didn't mean that the rules had changed.

Oscar released a shaky breath. "Um, okay. Okay. Uh, can touch." They tensed, braced for whatever was going to happen next. It wouldn't be the first time a child hurt them. Plenty of kids had played vampire hunter with them already— it had become a popular pastime in the village. And they got it, they understood, parents wanted their kids to be able to protect themselves. Might as well make use of a captive monster.

The little Kenku took the vampire's hand gently in theirs. "[Oscar] [too cold] [hm?]"

"I'm a vampire. We don't get to be warm." Katy frowned. That wasn't true. She'd been warm and cozy plenty of times in her time as a vampire.

She remembered thinking that way, though.

She also remembered all those cool nights curled up with Spruce and Wicker on the porch, warm and safe despite the cool night air.

She remembered being scared of letting her guard down, and that first night they had both pulled her close and promised her she was safe, that they weren't afraid of her.

She started to say something, then thought better of it, deciding instead to get them a fresh blanket, now that their blisters were starting to close up. Cricket beat her to it. They draped a blanket they'd chosen from the closet over Oscar. Gently tucked them in, the way Aspen always did for them. Then, they carefully tucked a stuffed bear into the crook of their arm. "[Oscar] [friend] [warm] [safe] [now]."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. "[Katy] [keep] [Oscar] [friend] [warm] [safe]."

"I will kiddo, don't worry."

They nodded, pressed the teddy closer to Oscar, rested a hand on their arm for a moment, then went back up the stairs.

What?

Katy chuckled once Cricket had gone. "I'd be happy to help you move to a bed, if it would be more comfortable for you. I still need you to stay down here for monitoring, so you can't have your own room yet, but beds are an option."

Oscar shook their head. They wanted to stay tucked in, just as Cricket had left them. They never wanted to move.

Oscar friend warm safe.

Taglist: @rainbowsandwhumperflies @wolfeyedwitch @littlebookworm69

[oldspruceinn]

Hell's Coming With Me, Part 3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

Contains lots of talk of leeches, medical stuff, burns, concern about cults, references to drugging in medical context, and a vampire who wants to die— let's get the new vampire's point of view!

The day had started like any other. The poor nocturnal creature had awoken as the sun's rays crept over the horizon. They had long accepted that there was nothing they could do. It had been… days, weeks, probably— they could hardly remember when they'd first been nailed to this rough wood. When the silver mask had been strapped on and heated to more closely fit their face. They had given up trying to remember a time before.

The only mercies were the days it rained. It meant time without sun, and occasionally, if they angled their face right, they could trap a little water behind the mask. Never enough to feel better, but enough to give some slight relief to their burning throat.

They'd been pulled down a few times. At first, they thought perhaps it meant relief, some respite.

They quickly learned that wasn't the case.

They'd been fed, at least. After they'd accepted and admitted that they were a monster, that they deserved all this. After anyone with a grudge against vampires had had a chance with the punching bag.

After they'd been branded a leech, a parasite, again and again.

After they crumbled completely, without even the strength to lift their head.

If the state of their burnt and blistered body was any indication, they were probably going to be taken down tonight. Sometimes, that meant a day without sun. They could only hope.

They barely registered when someone they had never seen stormed into the square, big and loud and full of rage. The money exchanging hands was no surprise— they knew that they were a commodity to be sold to anyone who wanted a vampire as a punching bag. Being taken down during the day was… unexpected and would be worrisome, if they even had the energy to worry. They were never taken from one torment to a lesser torment, after all.

The post was pulled down. They were dropped at the loud stranger's feet and did not move. Someone kicked them— it felt like a guard's boot. The stranger sounded angrier, somehow. One of the guards crouched to remove the nails from their hands and they bit back a screech at the sudden pain.

The stranger and the guards were talking again, and the vampire noticed they were halfway in the stranger's shadow. A small mercy. They must not be paying attention to allow it. Slowly, carefully, they tried to pull themself further into the shade. Away from the burning sun.

The guards said something about a lost key— they knew exactly where the key was— but rather than just leave them there, the stranger broke the post they had been staked to. And then hit the guards with it so hard that they collapsed.

Things only got more confusing from there. The stranger knelt next to the vampire, completely enveloping them in shade. He muttered words that sounded like apologies, his voice was so much softer now. What could he possibly have planned that he needed to apologize for? What horrible crime was he going to commit that he felt he needed to absolve himself?

Soft fabric settled over them and they gave up trying to guess.

The stranger scooped them off the ground and into his arms with terrifying ease. They could see the bodies of the guards that the stranger had beaten unconscious as they were lifted. Then, the fabric was tucked all the way around them and everything went dark. At least, for now, they were safe from the sun.

By the time they were set down again, they'd settled on the idea that they would probably be buried alive. Well, not alive, they supposed, but conscious. They didn't want to be buried in a muzzle and chains but… what did it matter? This stranger would do whatever he wanted. There was no point in fighting.

They tensed as the fabric was pulled from their face. They were on something wooden again, but it was much bigger than the post. The wood was smooth and sanded, it didn't cut into their skin. There were no splinters. They were... In the back of wagon?

They were on their back, not suspended. Just... resting.

They were in the shade, carefully blocked from the sun.

The stranger quietly undid the straps of their muzzle. They avoided eye contact and braced for it to be ripped off, but when it didn't slip off easily, he abandoned it. He fiddled with the shackles but likewise abandoned them when he realized that they had become embedded in the skin. Why? He was clearly strong enough, if he wanted them off. Which he seemed to.

"Actually…." The stranger spoke in that soft voice, and the vampire flinched. "Sorry," he said again, and it still made no sense. What could he possibly be apologizing for?

He went out of view and sounded like he was rifling through a chest, then returned with some sort of vial. Surely poison. They didn't resist when he tipped their head up, didn't pull away when he carefully pried enough of the mask back to allow the poison access to their mouth, and they didn't try to rid themself of the poison. At least it didn't taste like poison. It didn't burn. Somehow it tasted like…. Like how they remembered blueberries tasting.

They woke up on a table in a room that was brightly lit but did not burn. They had no idea how long they'd been asleep, but they didn't feel poisoned. Three new strangers, all very different from each other, stood over them. The stranger who had bought them sat in the corner. He gave them a small smile when he noticed their eyes move.

They realized, quite abruptly, that the mask was gone. And their face was numb. They took slow, shallow breaths, trying to avoid drawing attention. Breathing wasn't strictly necessary— they were undead, after all— but it felt better to have air in their lungs.

Eventually, they took too deep a breath and a sharp pain shot through their ribs. They tried to breathe through it, but must have made some sound because suddenly they had everyone's full attention.

The most human-looking of the group smiled at them. She asked questions about if they knew the date or the year or any current events. They shook their head no.

The other closest person asked their name. That was a trick question, they knew. They knew how to answer.

"I'm a leech," they replied, voice hoarse and raw. They didn't know what these new people wanted with them, they didn't understand what was happening, they didn't know why they were here. "Please, just put me out of my misery. Get it over with." Please, just make it quick.

That was, apparently, the wrong answer.

"Needle, Point, Barb, or Prickle. Choose."

They didn't understand.

They claimed that they were Leech, which apparently meant the vampire was not.

"I will be the one collecting blood for you, and there is no shame in needing prey."

They really didn't understand.

Leech (if that was really their name) bared their teeth at the the vampire.

"Choose something, or I'll name you 'They who pick at their wounds til they bleed' or 'They who struggle to accept that they must eat' and call you Starvingpain or Openscar."

Before they could process this, the more human looking one handed them a jar of… something. The cool glass did not hurt their hands. Their bandaged hands, apparently. When had that happened?

It was a jar of leeches.

"These are medical tools. They do not cause pain. These are living creatures with two hearts and ten brains and they deserve to be treated with the same respect as any other creature." Why did she seem… emotional about leeches?

"Would you strand them in salt for the crime of existing? Would that be deserved? No, it wouldn't, and you wouldn't."

Ah. So they were lower than a leech, here. Leeches could be respected, treated as medical instruments, treated with care. Maybe leeches were worshipped? Maybe this was a cult.

Maybe they felt that vampires had given leeches a bad name?

They handed the jar back. They didn't deserve to hold an instrument of healing.

They didn't deserve to heal.

Maybe that was the test, then.

Leeches were for healing, and they were lower than a leech, so they didn't deserve to heal. Maybe they would get sacrificed to a leech or something. A fitting end, they supposed.

They unwrapped the bandage on one of their hands. It seemed a waste, but maybe they were supposed to reject the efforts to heal them? Show they knew they didn't deserve it?

Leech didn't like that.

They picked at it, but Leech grabbed their hand and they froze, eyes wide. They… licked their hand. The pain subsided, somewhat. Weird. Maybe that's why they were Leech.

Leech rebandaged their hand, then growled "No, pup," with a voice that was stern but not unkind. They looked into their eyes desperately, searching for any bit of direction, any clue of what was happening.

They called them Openscar— for picking at their hand, they supposed. Explained that everything must eat, that every end had a purpose, something about leeches draining and being prey. They were struggling to focus. Hopefully there wouldn't be a test on this later. Clearly, their entire belief system centered around leeches.

They had no intentions on judging Leech's feeding habits, if that's what it was all about.

"Now, I'm leaving for a hunt. Do not insult healer Katy by calling for your end and alerting the All-Hunter. Do not make her guard your soul more viciously than is necessary. I expect you to be alive when I return.”

Leech left, and Openscar felt adrift. Their pain was dulled, but every inch of them still felt singed and raw. Katy, the healer, tended to their wounds with careful, cool hands. They tried to focus on that. She gave them water, which wouldn't heal them but was still an unexpected kindness. She even helped them drink. "If you don't have a name, how about Oscar, for now? Is that okay?"

They nodded. They wouldn't argue. And it wasn't a bad name. "You can call me… whatever you want," they rasped.

"I know it hurts," she murmured softly. "And I know you're scared, and you don't understand. But you're safe now." They noticed with some surprise that she blinked back tears as she worked. "Spruce saved me a long time ago. They've never let me down. You're safe." She went back to cleaning wounds, and somehow it didn't hurt, even though they knew it should.

They didn't mean to, but between the cool hands and gentle words and the ability to breathe freely and the water that tasted a bit like blueberries again, they drifted off.

They woke to the clinking of jars and the smell of blood. Leech was back. A rabbit’s leg dangled out of their mouth, and their bag was full of jars of… something. Katy opened one and dripped something (poison?) into it, and Leech intercepted it to take a sip before it was passed to them. They thought they heard Katy say something about an anti-coagulant.

It was blood. Human blood.

“Fresh,” they murmured. “From living prey, so you don’t need to worry about hurting innocent humans.

“And you need it, pup. The only other thing that could be in it is my venom, and you’ve already felt that.”

Their eyes flickered back and forth between the pair and the jar in their hand. But Leech had drank some, and Katy hadn't hurt them yet, and if she planned to— well, there was nothing they could possibly do about it anyway.

So they drank.

And they felt broken bones begin to shift and knit back together.

And they tried not to think about how they just watched Leech eat one of the leeches from Katy's jar.

Taglist: @rainbowsandwhumperflies @wolfeyedwitch @littlebookworm69

[oldspruceinn]

Part two of Hell's Coming With Me!

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

The Leech (mimzomworld x Old Spruce Inn)

Continues from Hell’s Coming WIth Me (part 1). Also I wrote a song-poem :)

Contains: suicidal character & self harm, drugging, nonlethal & nonconsensual blood harvesting, Nightcaller’s weird way of comforting people, and some leeches

•••

Nightcaller rushes down to the healer’s corner— “Is Bug alright did anything happen to her do I need to do anything to help I didn’t hear her I thought she was with—”

Stops. Stares at the not-human who smells like Lifetracker’s worse patients and Katy’s… condition. Covered in burns, and bruises and bandages.

“Do you have a mortar and pestle and…?” Thon doesn’t know the name of the burn-cool plant Lifetracker used on thons cooking burns. Not in this language. “It’s a moisture plant. For burns and dry skin. I think I remember a recipe that’ll help. For later.”

The burns are already covered in a paste, but Katy still shows thon the right plants. Quietly singing the song for the ratio in thons native language, thon mentally adjusts the dose of venom to avoid weakening their limbs the way thon did with Bugchaser on thons first day caring for her.

“The venom makes numb, and the plants help the burn heal,” thon explains, voice an alternating blend of Lifetracker’s and thons own. “If I made it wrong—and I adjusted the dose with Bugchaser in mind—their limbs will be weaker, and moving them will feel like wading through mud.”

She writes that down. Labels the jar in the language thon still can’t read.

The patient stirs.

“I need a lot of blood,” she admits, “human blood.”

“The ingredient, or can I cook with it?”

Unfortunately, they need plain blood. There is no ramble about why vampires need blood, so it’s clearly serious.

Plain blood from live prey that stays alive after it’s taken. Because people know she’s a vampire and will blame any disappearances on her. Killing would be easier. Killing would be easier, but Nightcaller was a lorekeeper-scout for a few years, to teach hunting and tracking, and thon is better with blow darts than arrows.

The patient makes a quiet, frail, whimpering sound. Katy asks them questions thon half-ignores, still thinking over how to lure thons prey. Curiosity, maybe.

“What’s your name?” thon asks.

“I’m a leech,” they mumble, “Please, just put me out of my misery. Get it over with.”

She opens her mouth, but thon gets there first.

“Needle, Point, Barb, or Prickle. Choose. I am Leech. I will be the one collecting blood for you, and there is no shame in needing prey.” Thon steps forward, resisting the urge to set a hand on their shoulder.

Looks them in the eye, baring sharp, predatory teeth so the eye contact is not misinterpreted by these strange people as a calm acknowledgement.

“Choose something, or I’ll name you ‘They who pick at their wounds until they bleed, they who struggle to accept they must eat’ and call you Starvingpain or Openscar.”

Katy picks up the jar of leeches, placing it into their injured hands. “These are medical tools. These do not cause pain.

“These are living creatures with two hearts and ten brains and they deserve to be treated with the same respect as any other creature. Would you strand them in salt for the crime of existing? Would that be deserved? No, it wouldn’t, and you wouldn’t.”

The vampire visibly struggles with this.

Eir eyes stare into the jar, ey nod, but ey give the jar back to rip off eir bandage and pick at the wound. Until thon grabs eir hand, firmly, and licks the open puncture wound. Bandages it thonself.

“No, pup.” Thon growls, a gentle correction for pups that makes them look into thons eyes. Not as challenge, nor a threat, just the strange need to look at people all the time.

“Openscar, everything feeds on souls, and every soul feeds either another or the earth. Even when pain is part of the process—and it can be—it is necessary. Every end has a purpose, and every beginning is only possible because of an end. Leeches drain, yes, but they are prey to me, as we are prey to the all-hunter who lives in the earth and feeds the plants.

“Now, I’m leaving for a hunt. Do not insult healer Katy by calling for your end and alerting the all-hunter. Do not make her guard your soul more viciously than her own, as healers do.”

Nightcaller speaks words that are slightly wrong, in layered voices. Tells stories with snippets of conversations.

Messes with voices until a human is brave enough to approach thon.

They fall, body limp and painless, to a single dart.

Thon hums, removing the dart to clean it, drawing blood the way Katy told thon to do. Hums a three-voice layered song to reassure the human, because thon left the dream-stuff behind to carry more jars.

Spruce’s voice is nice, for this, and the people here know cir. Cir voice is reassuring. It isn’t the only voice thon uses—Stormcaller and a Felix-Katy blend go in too—but it’s a leading voice.

The way the voice of the Claimed is used in The All-hunter’s Guidance—the all-hunter’s voice is hundreds blended from souls whose ends have come, but the Claimed lives at the centre, as its chosen pup.

Spruce’s voice sits at the center of the blend, leading the song.

“All beginnings make an-end, and I may never make a-mends,” humans can lose a lot of blood—about until the helpfully marked fill line—so thon can focus on watching for others.

“But time-is frail and tides do-keep, so for a life I must-not weep,

“I must not reap e-nough to end, I can-not break more than I mend.

“So an exchange I pro-mise thee, as I must follow they-who need.” Counting coin, thon tries to decide how much is enough.

“A share of blood is-all I ask, for all-I have is but one task:

“To reap, and share, and give you these.

“For though I take and do-not ask,

“To bro-ken feed, I can-not cease.” Thon carefully tucks the coins into a numb hand, closing it.

“For time-is frail and tides do-keep, and for a life we must-not weep.” The human mumbles something with uncooperative lips, eyelids twitching like they’re trying to open them.

“My voices ma-ny, purpose plain,

“To lure-in prey, ‘gain and a-gain,

“As my beginning can-not end, and all the prey, they soon will mend.” The jar fills, and thon bandages the tiny prick-point.

“So list-en this, for now-I speak:

“Your life is frail, your bo-dy weak.

“Yet I will guard-you in this state, as I can-not allow mistakes.” Anyone who tries to kill or steal from this human will meet the same fate.

“All beginnings make an-end, and I may never make a-mends,” thon sings, the blend of voices slightly different.

“Your soul should-not be mine to-keep,

“So I-will guard you while-you sleep.”

Thon moves them, propping them up against a tree, and waits for another. And another. And another. One appears mid-harvest, and thon smells them before they can see thon.

The bag of jars clinks when thon passes it to Katy, and she…. does not expect the amount. Cannot manage the words to ask. Thon bought more jars before the hunt, marking them the same way, and did not sip any of thons harvest.

Thons snacking-rabbit, still in thons mouth, helped prevent that. Its sacrifice is not insignificant.

The sacrifice of one of Katy’s medicinal leeches is also made. Openscar stares at thon.

•••

Old Spruce Inn Masterpost | Nightcaller Masterpost

[oldspruceinn]

Hell's Coming With Me

Part 1

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Mentions of blood, medical stuff, typical maltreatment of vampires

There was no knock at the door this time. No bray from Dahlia. No bursting in through the inn door. Instead, Atlas was carrying a bundle of blankets through the hidden outside entrance to the basement lab. Katy ushered him inside and quickly closed the door behind him.

"I kept 'em out of the sun, and I got as much of the metal off 'em as I could, but… they're in bad shape, Katydid. This is the worst I've seen."

Atlas had thrown a cloak over his own armor. It wasn't iron or silver but… he didn't want to take any risks. He didn't know how much more the poor creature could take.

He carefully laid the bundle down on Katy's exam table. He'd always found the lack of windows down here to be a bit sad, a bit claustrophobic, but now he understood. "I didn't wanna bundle 'em, but I didn't have a choice. I didn't have a good box handy."

Normally, Atlas stuck to auctions and middle-of-the-night thefts. But watching people walk by the staked up, screeching creature practically melting in the sunlight had been more than he could bear.

He couldn't help but think of Katy in that same position. Helpless and burning, while no one even pretended to care.

Luckily, people didn't tend to argue with full-grown orcs in war paint and armour. Especially when they were willing to pay.

He'd taken the poor vampire off their hands for a paltry sum, and made some pretty drastic threats if he returned to a similar situation. He had made it clear he would return.

The poor vampire was nailed and shackled to the stake. With chains wrapped 'round for good measure, apparently. Shackles would have been a small mercy, keeping weight off the nails, but they were silver, and intricately detailed with some sort of ward, some religious iconography making them burn worse than normal silver. He hadn't bothered to look that closely— if Spruce wanted to figure it out later, they could. The chains hung on their own, easy enough to remove. The guards had "lost" the keys to the shackles, though, so Atlas had done the only sensible thing left to do in that situation. He had pulled the post out of the ground, broken it off where the shackles were attached, and hit them both over the head with the remainder. Several times.

No one had stopped him.

It seemed they cared as little for the guards as they did for the vampire. Or maybe they were just scared of the angry orc.

They'd certainly be feeling it tomorrow, but it was nothing compared to this poor vampire now on Katy's table.

Her breath hitched as she began to unwrap the bundle before her. They were, mercifully, unconscious— more blister and wound than human or vampire.

She was almost hesitant to get started. But she was a doctor, this is what she did. She couldn't let her own discomfort prolong this poor soul's agony. Vampires were despised, she knew that, she'd spent so long trying to avoid hunters. But she had almost forgotten, in their little paradise out here, that it could be this bad. Folks came in in terrible shape all the time, but this was. So extreme.

The muzzle, first. Katy was only half listening as Atlas explained that it was too deeply embedded to be removed.

"Atlas, I need… tools, I don't even know. I might need Spruce. Please." Atlas nodded and disappeared upstairs quickly. Katy exhaled a shaky breath.

She'd never seen anything like this. It was a silver plate, crudely formed to the shape of a person's face. It covered their nose and mouth and cheeks, tucked under their jaw. It completely covered the bottom half of their face. Atlas had already undone the straps holding it there. It was clear that he had tried to pull it off and been unable.

She knew he could have just ripped it off but decided not to. Sweet Atlas. He was always so careful, so kind.

She grabbed gloves, grabbed whatever potions she could think to find. Burn cream, certainly. Analgesics, local anaesthetics, syringes. She worked slowly, trying to get the medications under the mask.

She jumped when Spruce put their hand on her shoulder. She stammered out something about needing to get the muzzle off and something about vampires and they just shook their head.

"I know, Katydid, I know. It's okay."

They took her shaking hands in their steady ones, their doe-like brown eyes held her gaze. "It's gonna be okay. We're gonna help them. You know me."

She nodded shakily and tried to take the tools from their hands, but they held them tight. "Your hands aren't steady enough. I've been working metal forever. You remember the shape Atlas was in when we got him? I'll do it."

She nodded and took a step back, and chewed on her fist as she watched them work. She reminded herself that Spruce had started this whole place, Spruce had saved her countless times.

Spruce wouldn't hurt a vampire for the crime of being a vampire.

They worked slowly, carefully, nearly silently. It was unsettling to see them so quiet. Starting at the edge to get a feel for the depth of the metal, they carefully clipped through it. It wasn't pure silver— that was too expensive, they supposed. It was likely partially copper— copper was relatively cheap and strengthened the metal.

They scored through the metal in a patchwork— careful not to go too deep— hoping to leave as much skin intact as possible. Then, they grabbed their pliers and started to slowly, carefully work each piece free.

It took well over an hour. After Katy calmed a bit, she started working on trying to free the angry, swollen skin from the metal before Spruce removed each piece. She had … some success. At least she had plenty of time to ensure that the area was very, very numb.

The shaking in her hands lessened the more progress they made. Her confidence returned as there were visible signs of improvement.

Removing the shackles was much easier. The holes in their hands and feet from where they'd been staked to the post would heal, she just flushed them well with saline to make sure there were no scraps of metal or wood. The vampire had no fangs, but that wasn't a surprise. It did seem like overkill, but then— all of this was overkill. It was just torture, plain and simple.

Katy didn't bother to ask Spruce why they were saving the silver. They would probably melt it down and rework it into something else. She didn't care. She was just relieved when it was gone.

"Nightcaller?" She knew the mimic was around somewhere, she'd heard them practicing voices earlier. "I'm gonna need blood. A lot of it."

Part 2 will be posted by @paintcrab

Taglist: @rainbowsandwhumperflies @littlebookworm69

[oldspruceinn]

For The Innocent

Atlas prepares to go on his next mission, plus, baby Atlas glimpses!

Spruce had seen Atlas heating new bands to stretch over the wooden wheels of his wagon. They'd smelled the oil he usually used on the hubs when he came by for a snack earlier. They'd noticed him carefully applying tar to different points on the wagon that needed waterproofing.

They knew he had already polished his horses' gear, they had helped him trim their hooves and checked to see if any needed shoes. Made sure he had plenty of the hoof poultice he always kept on hand. And last evening, they'd seen Katy pack a big box of supplies and take it to the stable.

All that added up to mean one thing.

Atlas was going on his next mission.

The horses were well-rested, the wagon was in good shape, and he had all the supplies he needed. He preferred to travel at night, which meant he would be leaving this evening.

And now it was Spruce's turn to say goodbye.

They packed plenty of snacks and took them down to the barn. They took a deep breath, squared their shoulders, and gently rapped their knuckles on the door before they walked in.

"Hey Atlas."

"Ah, hey Sprucey."

He already had his armor on. His voice has already taken the tired, gravelly tone that it always took on mission.

"My little boy, all grown up and off to save people." They smiled, and Atlas laughed, just a little.

"Are you doing okay, son? You said the last mission got rough. It's okay if you need more time to rest first."

The orc shook his head. "It was nothing new. You know how they can be. They think I'm just a dumb bloodthirsty orc. They want to watch me kill, they think it's funny."

Spruce nodded. Oh, how they knew. They heard hooves and knew Dahlia was joining them without even looking up. Of course she was.

"And you know that those stories aren't true, right? They were just spread because—"

"Because the orcs didn't want to be colonized and overtaken. Yeah, I know."

They sat in silence together for a few moments. Spruce soon felt a familiar weight on their shoulder, and they reached over to put their arm around Atlas's shoulders.

They remembered carrying him home, his head resting on their shoulder as he slept, his clothes still all singed and skin covered in ash.

They remembered cutting the shackles off his tiny hands and feet- how frozen and afraid he'd been that Spruce would cut him, how afraid Spruce had been that they'd slip.

They remembered noticing that his tusks had been sawed off.

They remembered how terrified he had been of the tub, and how they'd had to wipe him clean with washcloths.

They remembered tucking him into bed and sitting up by his bed all night, stitching blankets and reading stories.

And, of course, they remembered killing the man who had hurt him, who had told Spruce that if they were just gonna get soft, they'd be better off killing the 'thing' before it grew into a monster. Atlas had been just a child.

They also remembered happier memories. The first time Atlas smiled at them, the first time he laughed. When he noticed the horses on his blanket. Helping him learn how to reshape his tusks when they finally started to regrow. Teaching him to bake and how to smith.

"Did you ever wonder if you were making a difference? If it was even worth it?" Atlas's voice was a bit shaky, then.

"What makes you wonder?"

"It's just getting worse. The sellers are crueler, the restraints are harsher, it feels like every time I get someone out, two more take their place. I hoped it would get better in my lifetime, but it's just getting worse." Dahlia nuzzled Atlas's face, none of her usual sass present. She wiped his tears before they could fall.

Spruce pulled him closer and he clung to where he was placed. "I know, buddy. These things go through cycles, unfortunately. And we can't help everyone, as much as we may try. Not yet, at least."

Atlas groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm even making a difference at all. There are so many people hurting, and I can only do my best to grab who I can. I barely made it out with the last two, and then one of them ran away!"

"Rook's… bid for freedom has no bearing on the impact you are making. You still got him out. And look at who all you have saved. You spoke with Cricket, right? And you remember when we found Felix? And think of how many other's you've helped. You single-handedly changed their lives. You are doing good, so much good. And I am so, so proud of you."

Dahlia snorted softly into Atlas's ear, eliciting a laugh, finally.

"I know you already made up your mind, so I won't try to talk you out of it now, but next time, why don't you stay a little while longer. You deserve a break. You deserve rest, son."

He nodded and stood, brushed off his lap to give his hands something to do. "I will when spring comes. Winter is coming now, though, and I need to get as many folks to safety as I can."

"Would you at least come up for dinner tonight before you leave? I know everyone would like to say goodbye."

That night, everyone packed away little trinkets, snacks, and notes for him to take on his journey. Katy made sure he had more than enough blankets. And when he made it back down to the stable to leave, he found a child's clumsy drawing on his seat, of Cricket sitting up on his shoulder.

Despite his usual concern about worrying anyone, he nodded.

Taglist: @rainbowsandwhumperflies @littlebookworm69

[oldspruceinn]

A Cricket In The Stables

Atlas and Cricket bonding time, awww

After lots and lots of reassurance that Atlas wasn't as scary as Cricket remembered, they asked Aspen to take them to see him. She was more than happy to oblige. They checked his room first, which looked completely untouched. So down they went to the stable.

They heard him way before they made it into the stable— his deep, gravelly voice cooing at the horses. He turned when he heard Aspen's hooves clop-clopping on the cobblestone floor. His face lit up at the sight. "Aw, hey there guys! Did y'all come down here to see me, or d'ya want me to leave ya be for some pony time?"

Aspen walked over and held out her arms, and he immediately melted into her embrace. "It's good to see you, big guy. You did so good." He sniffled, trying not to get emotional, and she patted his back. They were clearly closer than Cricket had realized. "You did so good."

"Cricket wanted to come say hi," she told him, giving him one more squeeze before she released him. He sniffled and nodded, then wiped his face on his sleeve and gave them a smile.

Cricket looked up at the big orc, who had seemed so scary before, with his booming, angry voice and multiple piercings. But now, without his armor, he was… just a guy. Just a really big green guy with tusks, wearing a dirty cotton shirt covered in horse slobber and grass stains.

He knelt down so he was closer to Cricket's size. "Hi Cricket! Sorry I didn't get to introduce myself before— I know that musta been scary for you. But I'm Atlas. And, as you've figured out by now, I work for Spruce."

Cricket nodded, wide-eyed. "[Atlas] [bought] [Cricket] [for] [Spruce] [for] [safe here] [hm?]"

Atlas nodded. "Yeah kiddo, exactly. Spruce has the paperwork, so if ya ever go missing they can get ya back. But you're free to do whatever you want."

"[Free] [to] [be] [safe here] [hm?]"

He nodded, tearing up again. "You can stay here forever, if that's what ya want. No one will make you go anywhere."

"[Atlas] [safe friend] [stay here] [hm?]" Aspen teared up at hearing them call Atlas 'safe friend' as well. The little Kenku was so damn trusting, Aspen would never understand how.

"I can't stay here kiddo. Not forever. I've gotta go back out there so I can help more folks."

Cricket nodded. That made sense. "[Atlas] [help] [Cricket] [pony time] [hm?]"

Atlas gasped, delighted. "You wanna meet the ponies! Of course! Do ya want up higher?" They nodded, so Atlas scooped them effortlessly into his arms.

"This is Polaris." A big, black horse with a white star on his forehead and white socks on his hind feet nuzzled at Cricket's legs and they giggled. They petted him, absolutely mesmerized. "My North star. I can always rely on him to get us home, no matter how lost we seem, no matter how bad it's storming. We got lost in a snowstorm once, couldn't see my hand in front of my face. I just let go, and he sure got us home."

A big bay mare was next, with a tiny white snip on her lip. "Andy here, Miss Andromeda, has saved my hide more times than I can count." She nibbled at his face affectionately and he used his free hand to scratch at her shoulder. "I was overpowered once in a fight. A guy jumped on my back and she kicked him square in the jaw. She's broken more wagons than any horse I've ever met, but now I just let her loose any time I stop." She nickered and gently lipped at Cricket's face as Cricket rubbed her cheek.

The next horse was another mare, a bright baldface chestnut who shone red in the sun. "Vega navigates alongside Polaris. He always knows how to get home, she helps him find the safest way to get there." She snuffled Cricket's belly and looked pleased when the child squealed.

"And last but not least, Orion." A soft-faced dusky buckskin who held a clover flower out to Cricket. "He never fails to find us a safe place to sleep, or to find safe food and water for us. I swear, this horse is one of the best foragers in the world. I don't know how he does it."

"I wouldn't be able to do anything without this team. They're incredible." He got a little teary-eyed talking about them. Aspen had always thought it was so sweet how much he loved his horses. And, of course, how much they loved him.

No one noticed Dahlia had joined the group until she stood directly behind Atlas and brayed loudly, right in his ear. He jumped and spun around to face her. "Hey! What was that for?" She stomped one hoof, hard.

"Okay, yes, and you went on my first mission with me to protect me, and ya did an amazing job." She tossed her head and walked off with a snort.

Atlas boosted Cricket up onto his shoulder. "[Atlas]… [why] [wagons] [scary] [hm?]"

"Ah, that." He walked towards the wagon, which was propped up behind the barn so that he could work on its wheels and make a few other minor repairs. He opened the back door and Cricket tensed. "A lot of sellers won't sell to rescue buyers. I have to really sell the whole deal. The warpaint, the intimidating armor, the scary black wagon with the giant lock and chains— that's all part of it. But look inside."

Cricket had been unconscious when they'd been brought in— they'd never actually seen the inside of the wagon. But the inside wasn't nearly as scary. It was still dark, yes. But what looked like chains from the outside were clearly handles on the inside. The walls were padded, there were benches. There were ventilation shafts angled so that no one could peer inside, but they let light and fresh air in. There was even a water cooler and paper cup dispenser bolted to the front wall.

"Not everything that looks scary, is scary. I have to put on the act to help people. But maybe one day, I won't have to anymore."

Cricket hugged them tight, and he held them like that for a while. Then, they yawned. "[Aspen] [friend]"

Aspen stepped closer when she heard her name. "You ready to go back to the inn, kiddo?"

They nodded and yawned again, then reached for Aspen, so Atlas handed them over. "Goodnight Cricket, goodnight Aspen!"

"[Goodnight] [Atlas] [friend]"

Taglist: @rainbowsandwhumperflies @littlebookworm69

[oldspruceinn]

Roaming Rook, Part 2

The first village had been a bust. The whole tavern was populated with orcs, clearly all sympathetic to Atlas and the vampire and whatever their twisted game was. He had managed to find a hiding spot to outwait what he thought must surely be a whole pack of orcs chasing him, and had fallen asleep there, exhausted.

No orcs had, in fact, chased him.

He woke up behind a rock and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders that he figured he must have forgotten he'd carried with him. He never noticed the wagon tracks on the other side of the rock, he would never know that several people had tried, and failed, to wake him.

He set off, confident in the direction he had chosen, to find the next village. Surely they would come to his aid. He walked and walked and walked, endlessly frustrated that he could no longer fly. Stupid clipped wings.

Finally, after dark had fallen and while he was contemplating another nap, he smelled smoke and food and heard laughter. Overjoyed, he ran towards the building... Then stopped short when he noticed Dahlia. How had he ended up back at the inn?? Dahlia huffed at him, and he scrambled back into the edge of the woods.

Well, there was food at least- plenty of food. Once everyone was gone, he would just sneak in and steal some, then be on his way. He just had to wait.

And wait he did. Until the lanterns were finally blown out and everyone had gone to bed. And then he made his move.

He noticed that the window he had broken was already replaced. He considered breaking it again, but was more focused on food and not getting caught. He went around back and bumped at the door. Wasn't even locked. He slipped inside.

The kitchen was easy to find. It was dark, so flicked the lights on (why the hell did they use lanterns if they had electricity?) to search.

He opened the fridge, rifling through the contents and stuffing whatever looked good into a towel to carry with him.

Nine watched this new creature, fascinated. It hadn't seemed to notice them yet, and didn't seem to be any sort of threat. They chittered, and the creature didn't even notice, now too busy humming to even hear them.

They slunk out of the kitchen and down to Katy's lab to ask her what to do. Terminating it seemed to be an overreaction. They were afraid they would get in trouble for leaving a thief in the kitchen, but Katy just laughed.

"Just leave him be, Nine. Felix found him passed out in the blackberry brambles a few days ago. " Stealth was not among the Luma's skills, clearly.

"So Nine is not to terminate the threat?"

"No, buddy, you can go back to sleep. Thanks for the heads up." She scratched their head and they tried not to lean into the touch too much.

Nine nodded and returned upstairs. They returned to their basket and blankets and curled up, Rook still humming the whole time, entirely oblivious to their movements. They couldn't imagine how he had survived this long without getting eaten.

Finally satisfied with his spoils, the pigeon-folk turned to leave and noticed the pillbug-kitten. He jumped, then chuckled, pleased at his apparent ability to evade the creature's detection.

He left with his towel full of snacks and didn't even remember to turn off the light. Nine sighed and got up to turn off the lights instead, then returned to their basket once more to sleep, mostly just annoyed that their kitchen had been disturbed.

Taglist: @rainbowsandwhumperflies @littlebookworm69

[oldspruceinn]

A Better Post Masterlist

These will mostly be oldest to newest, top to bottom

How To Start The Mornings- Intro to Spruce, Dahlia, and the Inn, this is mostly world building stuff

Alive and Awake- Meet Felix, the friendly Satyr chef!

Cinnamon Rolls With Felix- More Felix! A bit of backstory, mostly alluded to

Iron Fish- Meet Katy the vampire! Find out how she and Spruce met!

Night Lights- Meet Aspen! Watch a silent fireworks show! Hang out with Felix, Spruce, and Katy

Designation 09, Part One, Part Two- Meet Nine, a strange space pillbug-kitten that fell as space trash. Spend time with Spruce and Felix as well

Unexpected Company, Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four- Meet Atlas the Orc, as well as Cricket and Rook! Find out more about why the inn exists. Lots of fluff in the last part! Spend time with Spruce, Katy, Aspen, and Felix as well! Discusses being bought and sold, language deprivation

Cricket Sees A Doctor- Spend time with Cricket, Aspen, Felix, and Katy! Medical help, lots of snuggles

On Patrol- Spend the day with Dahlia the totally normal donkey! No dialogue

Cinnamon Rolls with Felix and Cricket- Follow up to Cinnamon Rolls With Felix, but with Cricket involved!

Crossover with Mimzomworld, Inn Side, Nightcaller Side- A strange creature appears with with a hurt baby satyr. Crossover with @paintcrab.

Roaming Rook, Part One, Part Two- Get an update on Rook as he tries to convince a nearby village that Cricket needs help!

Interview With The Vampire- Spend time with Katy and Nine as they try to figure each other out. Medical care, living weapon, medical neglect

A Cricket In The Stables- Atlas and Cricket get some quality time, and we meet Atlas's ponies!

For The Vulnerable- Atlas and Spruce have a chat as Atlas prepares for his next mission, Baby Atlas Lore

Hell's Coming With Me, Part One, Part Two, Part Three- Atlas brings home a vampire in very bad shape, Katy asks Spruce and Nightcaller for help

[oldspruceinn]

Interview With The Vampire

It had been a week since Nine crash-landed on this strange planet. Outwardly, this has been the most peaceful week of their life.

Inwardly, they were spiraling.

They had spent the last week confined to the kitchen. No one had specifically told them to stay in the kitchen, but they had been placed here and not given other commands, so here they had stayed.

They didn't want to complain, they just didn't know what to do. They were supposed to have self-destructed and they didn't. If their handlers found out they'd been disobedient... They shivered at the thought. They hadn't seen any signs of anyone being disciplined here, but maybe that's why they had been confined to the kitchen. So they couldn't see. Perhaps everyone was just trying to trick them into disobedience. Their handlers had done that plenty of times— mimicking each other's voices, giving conflicting commands, impossible tasks.

It was a relief when Katy came up and asked them to join her for a walk. Maybe they'd finally find out what was going on. They jumped to their feet and only tensed slightly when they remembered the burns. They shifted off of their front feet and tucked them up— it wasn't a big deal, they had six others, but Katy was frowning. Shit. They lowered their feet back to the ground and stayed stoic as they redistributed the weight.

"Your front feet— do they still hurt?" Katy knelt beside them and they stayed perfectly still, unsure of what was happening. They didn't want her to touch their burnt feet but they wouldn't react if she did. It was her right. They shouldn't have reacted in the first place.

"No, ma'am, Nine does not feel pain."

Katy nodded slowly. "Alright. Well, you don't have to use those front feet if they're still tender. You can use however many legs you want, I won't be bothered."

Nine chittered softly— they'd learned that no one seemed to mind that noise— and transferred back to their hind six. "Thank you for your tolerance, ma'am."

Tolerance. She stored that away in her mind and grabbed a bag of chicken from the fridge, then held the door for Nine. The space creature watched her, waiting for a command. "Walk with me?"

They immediately came to heel— their front left shoulder level with her right leg. They matched pace as she walked, only falling behind to allow her to step through doors first.

She held the doors open for them. She gave them a small piece of chicken for every door they went through. They did not understand.

They walked in silence for a while. Nine looked up at the sky. There were two moons on this planet, one was nearly three times the size of the other. And yet, despite the extra light, there were still so many stars. It was... Beautiful.

Katy watched them as they walked. She intentionally stepped on dried leaves when she noticed that they were moving silently. They tensed every time.

After a while, they came across a bench under a large cedar tree. Katy sat and patted the bench next to her, Nine flattened their ears. "Nine is sorry ma'am, but does not understand what you are asking."

"Ah, I should have guessed that. I'm indicating that you can sit here on the bench next to me, if you would like."

Of course she should have guessed that they wouldn't know what she was talking about. They knew they were treading on thin ice. Now they couldn't even parse a simple gesture? They were so focused on that that they didn't even ask what she wanted, just climbed onto the bench and sat. Yet another mistake, they were sure.

They glanced over at her [without permission!] and saw that she was writing in a notebook. That couldn't be good. Probably a list of all the infractions they had committed over the last week. It was fair, it was only fair. She brought them all the way out here so that no one at the inn would know. Her scent was familiar from Felix and Cricket, of course they had told her everything they had done wrong.

It was only fair.

"Nine, are you okay?" Her voice was soft as she looked up from her notebook.

"Yes ma'am, Nine is operable."

She frowned again [again!] as she set her book down. "That isn't what I asked. I asked if you're okay."

What did that mean? They didn't know, they had no script, no preplanned answer, they were definitely being disobedient. "Nine is... in working order?" They tried again, less confidently.

She still looked concerned, that still wasn't right. "May I see one of your hurt feet?" She held out her hand. They suppressed a whine as they placed a tender paw in her hand.

"Nine does not feel pain, ma'am."

*Stay there," she said softly, then knelt on the ground [on the ground!] next to them. They did not whine. They did not shiver. She gently folded their paw back so that she could look at it without putting stress on the joint. "It looks like it still hurts," she said softly. "It's still warm and red, blistered. Has anyone been treating this?"

"Nine cannot feel pain, ma'am. It would be a waste of time and resources."

At that, Katy looked skeptical. "Could you feel me holding your paw?"

"Yes, Nine can feel, but cannot feel pain."

She frowned. "That isn't... how biology works, Nine. What did it feel like when you burnt your paws?"

"Nine was disobedient, ma'am. That was the feeling of disobedience."

"Oh my gods," she whispered, and Nine flattened their ears. They had further displeased her. "Do your paws still... feel like... disobedience?"

They weren't sure what answer she was looking for. It had been a week ago, they should have been fine by now. They could walk fine, it wasn't that big of a deal. But they knew they needed to answer her, they had to answer her. "A little, yes, but Nine is operational."

She wrote a lot in her notebook. They stayed still. Finally, she looked back at them, and they noticed that her eyes were a little puffy. They didn't recognize that clue.

"Oh baby," she started softly, and they failed to suppress a small whine at her voice. "You can feel pain. That 'feeling of disobedience' is pain. Your paws feel burnt. You deserve care for them. Can we go back, so that I can properly treat them?"

They didn't understand anything she said, but they nodded and jumped up, back into six feet, keeping their front feet tucked, and started the walk back.

It wasn't too long before they were back in the basement, and Katy had Nine laying on a table with their front paws hanging off so that she could treat them more easily. They were blistered and hot, even a week later.

She had to wash them first. She warned them it might hurt, but used cool water and mild soap to be as gentle as she could. She patted them dry oh so softly, then put a mixture of homemade salves on and wrapped them again, then gave them a piece of chicken. They purred softly.

"May I touch your shoulder?"

They knew she meant the words carved into their shell. They nodded, and tried not to flinch, then realized she was rubbing that same mixture into the carving. They released a shaky breath.

"I had a feeling it still hurt."

Eventually they fell asleep as she worked a muscle relaxing salve into muscles they had no idea even ached and when they woke the next morning, they were curled up in their basket with a new blankie and a pillow.

They nodded, trying to hide the tears in their eyes as she kept on this way, gently tending to all their wounds and scars, no matter how old. She whispered softly as she worked, things like "You're safe now" and "No one will hurt you again" and "you aren't a failure."

Taglist: @rainbowsandwhumperflies

[oldspruceinn]

Reblog if you're okay with receiving asks for backstory info on any/all of your fics.

If not all, specify which ones in the tags.

[oldspruceinn]

Roaming Rook, Part 1

Rook was sure that that damned orc was after him. Or the vampire, surely. Hell, they'd probably already eaten that Kenku, what was their name... Cricket? Well, if they didn't have enough sense to escape out the broken window, it was their own fault.

A pang of guilt. They'd just been a kid. Maybe he should have gone back. The kid looked so desperate for a friend, especially at the auction. But trying to help folks was what got him captured and sold in the first place. It wasn't his responsibility to help the world, no sir. He'd learned his lesson. Now his wings were useless and he was in the middle of some huge forest in the middle of nowhere. His feet ached and his stomach growled and he was sure he was gonna starve out here. After all, it wasn't like there were any berries out here! No seeds, no berries, no nuts, just these stupid thorns on these stupid brambles and... Oh. Blackberries. Huh.

A lot of blackberries.

He figured the likelihood of blackberries all the way out here being poisoned was low enough, so he ate his fill, and promptly fell asleep in the bramble patch. He did not wake when Felix walked past him to pick blackberries. Felix decided he would report it to Spruce later and left him alone.

In all fairness he didn't really know how far he had walked— the orc was well over twice his height and had plenty of horses, he could probably catch up quickly. And it wasn't like Rook was in good shape— his time in captivity had made sure of that. His clipped wings made it that much harder to travel. And he had no supplies. But surely there had to be a village somewhere that would come to his aid. All he had to do was tell them that an evil orc had kidnapped him and a child, and that he and a vampire were still holding the child hostage. Then, surely, the town would come bearing torches and pitchforks and burn the vile place to the ground!

The bed had been comfortable. But it was probably just to keep him complacent! It was a trick, of course, until the foul vampire could get her fangs in him.

The bed was certainly more comfortable than sleeping in brambles, though. After he woke, he spent nearly an hour picking thorns from his feathers. He stuffed himself full of more blackberries and forged on ahead.

It was another two days of walking before he smelled smoke and, following it, found a village. He heard laughter inside a tavern and threw open the door. Finally, he had found help!

He jumped on a table and whistled shrilly, then announced, "Three day's walk from here, there's an orc and a vampire in kahoots! They're keeping people captive! I only escaped by smashing a window!"

Silence, as it sank in. Then... Laughter?

"Aye little bird, is there now? A big scary orc and a fearsome vampire, and you managed to escape?"

He balled up his fists angrily, then picked up a glass and smashed it against the wall. "Yes! They have a child there, right now! They're probably eating them as we speak!"

More laughter.

"Oh, and did you get their names, little bird?" A different voice, jeering at him. His face flushed with rage.

Then a satyr walked out of the kitchen, eyebrow cocked. "What's all this about a vampire and an orc?" Everyone else went quiet.

"Finally, someone with some sense! Ma'am, a vampire and an orc held me captive. I barely escaped with my life."

"Mm, I see. And was it they, who clipped your feathers?"

"Well, no. That was my previous captors." His bravado did not diminish.

"I see. The orc, did he have piercings, and war paint, and armor?" Someone behind her snorted, but Rook didn't notice.

"Yes, yes! Doesn't every orc?" He ignored a groan from an orc at the bar.

"Black wagon, chains along the side, four mismatched horses?" She gave him a knowing smile.

"Yes, that's him!" Rook was practically jumping for joy.

Someone else stepped in. "So Atlas bought ya, and you think we'll just... Bust up into Old Spruce's place?" Rook's shoulders slumped a bit, realization dawning on him, but the satyr woman smacked the guy with a towel and he backed off.

"Alright. Sounds like there's been a big misunderstanding." The satyr woman sighed. "I don't know of any vampires, but I do know Atlas. He's a sweet boy, not a monster. How about you get some rest here tonight, and we'll ride up to Spruce's in the morning, let them know you're here, and let them explain all this?"

Rook shook his head, taking a step back. "No, no, he bought me! He's not a sweet boy, he's an orc!" He took another step back, only to bump into someone. Another orc, he realized with dawning horror. He dove out of his reach and scrambled out the door, slamming it shut behind him. The orc started to follow up, but the satyr woman stopped him.

"Let him go. We don't need him smashing one of our windows too."

"Yeah I know, but what if he gets hurt out there?" The orc looked at her with concern.

She sighed, rubbed her hands over her face. "I hate when this happens. In the morning, you can ride up to Spruce's, let them know we've seen that guy. Make sure to say hi to Felix while you're there, I've got a book here somewhere you can take him." The orc nodded and she turned to everyone else, raising her voice.

"As for the rest of you assholes. Just because we know Atlas doesn't mean there aren't scared strangers who don't understand why they're there. How many of us have been that scared stranger?"

No one made eye contact as she glared around the room. "Tomorrow, we will be having a serious conversation about how to approach this situation next time it comes up. Everyone who made some snarky-ass comment owes me double on their last drink. And, you'll each be riding to a different village to make them aware of the situation, without free drinks for compensation."

She walked back into the kitchen and slammed the door behind her. No one said a word.

Back outside, Rook was running again, sure an orc was on his trail again. Maybe someone at the next village would have more sense. Surely.

Taglist: @rainbowsandwhumperflies

Do y'all think I should give these characters and villages names? Let me know!

[oldspruceinn]

Character Masterlist

Hey! Figured it was time for a character list! Clicking their names will take you to their first post

Spruce- Spruce owns the Inn, and they're the heart of the whole operation. They're a Firbolg and stand at about 7 ft 5 (226 cm), with bongo-antelope-like horns. Their hair is red and white and they have a beard. They're cheerful, kind, and just want everyone to feel safe.

Dahlia- Dahlia is Spruce's sassy watch-donkey. She demands treats at the door.

Felix- Felix is a satyr, and does most of the cooking at the Inn. He has dark gray, shaggy fur and curled horns and stands at about 5 ft 2 (157 cm). He hides his anxiety behind his goofy demeanor, and the kitchen is his safe space. Aspen the Centaur is his best friend, and he and Spruce both see him as Spruce's son.

Katy- Katy is a vampire, and also the resident doctor/healer. She is the world expert on controlling vampirism. I haven't really come up with a solid appearance for her, but she's 5 ft 7 (170 cm) and wears colored contacts to hide the red in her eyes. She adores kids, and is Spruce's oldest friend.

Aspen- Aspen is a centaur, and is Felix's best friend. She's 5 ft 11 (180 cm), closer to 4 ft at the withers. Her horse half is a flaxen chestnut paint, and this shows as vitiligo on her human half. She has a number of brands and scars, most of which she has covered with either tattoos (human half) or freeze-brands of her own designs (horse half)

Nine- Nine is a space-pillbug-cat-thing that was disposed of by its former handlers and fell by the inn in a pod of space trash. It is very uncertain of what to do now, so it spends most of its time in the kitchen in a basket that Felix gave it to sleep.

Atlas- Atlas is a big (7 ft, 213 cm) scary orc with green skin and lots of piercings. He took over the messier parts of Spruce's job when they settled down with the inn, and now roams in search of creatures that need saving. He's a huge softy who really loves his ponies. He wears the most intimidating armor he can find to get better deals when he has to buy creatures to save them.

Cricket- Cricket is a very anxious and very sweet Kenku child who was deprived of words by someone who captured them when they were tiny and had a vendetta against Kenku. Atlas bought them, along with Rook, and brought them to the Inn. They feel safest when snuggled between Aspen and Felix.

Rook- Rook is a Luma- a pigeonfolk who is very skeptical about this whole affair. He was purchased alongside Cricket by Atlas.

Nightcaller- Nightcaller is one of @paintcrab's MimZoms, a mimic who accidentally ended up in this world. They found a hurt satyr-child, Bugchaser, and brought her to the inn.

Bugchaser- Bugchaser is a young satyr who was found in a steel-tooth trap by Nightcaller and brought to the inn.

[oldspruceinn]

Check out the other side of this story! It was so much fun to work on together!

The Inn (mimzomworld x Old Spruce Inn)

Go check out my crossover buddy! @oldspruceinn has a really great world full of wonderful characters, and I had fun working on this with them!!

Contains: broken bone, past child abuse/capture, accidental harm to child (iron burn), threats of dismemberment, and plenty of cute <3

•••

After more than a month in this strange world, Nightcaller finds a furry legged person-creature on a hunt.

A whisper-whimpering creature with a broken, bleeding leg caught in metal teeth. Tipping thons head at it, thon asks, “Can you understand me?”

Louder whimpering. Tears.

Leaking tears the way mimics don’t, ey speak. Quickly and choking, so thon only picks out ‘ran’ and ‘please’ and ‘hurt’ and ‘help’ and something about being trapped. Of course this creature—this pup—is trapped.

Opening thons mouth, thon echoes as much of the voice as thon can to identify the rest “—ran away and they’ll—again, please don’t let—find me again. I—I—I had to— Help, please, I ca—please I can’t go back, please, they ca—caught me before… hurt last time and I don’t know what to do—”

No packmates. No one worth searching for.

Prying the teeth open, thon holds the strange pup to thons chest under thons cloak. A louder cry and the scent of burning until thon puts em down and shoves the iron-leather neck guard into thons bag.

A four legged prey animal (horse?) stares at thon. Thon hisses.

Unfortunately, it’s by someone’s den, which means it belongs to someone who might be sad if it vanished.

Also, Nightcaller’s prey-pup eats plants, and carrion makes young pups sick. It’s too big not to spoil before it can be eaten, so thon can’t kill it even if it’s unclaimed prey.

The den is an option.

The pack there might know how to feed thons strange pup.

How to feed em well, not just show em different plants and ask if they’re safe to eat.

Thons pup said people are scary and not to trust them.

Thon is a well armed adult mimic with bone-breaking teeth.

Shoving open the door, thon finds a tall horned person with red hair and a shorter horned person with curled horns. People like thons pup. Hopefully allies.

Growling softly, to not disturb the pup, Nightcaller stares up at Tall. Bares thons teeth.

“If you don’t help this one—” thon opens thons cloak to reveal the sleeping, wounded pup— “I will eat you. If you hurt this one more, I will bind you with iron and eat you limb by limb.”

“I’ll be right back.” Short’s voice wavers, slightly, but ne returns with a blanket.

“Can I have her?” Her. Gender is strange, with these people.

Tall offers thon a meal.

“Can… have,” thon echoes in nir voice, handing over the pup. Watching to be sure ne’s gentle with the pup.

“I’ll eat. Anything meat, even carrion. I’m not from this world, so I didn’t know what to feed the pup other than plants and soup.”

Might as well admit the insanity of ending up somewhere with barely anything familiar.

Might as well admit to not knowing what to feed Bugchaser.

Might as well pull off thons hood and veil to introduce thonself properly.

Might as well introduce thonself, since Short—who is apparently not a healer like thon thought—already gave thon two new names.

“Nightcaller,” thon says, offering a hand to Spruce. People here like doing that for some reason. “I’m a… library, for my people. A guardian of history.”

They bare their teeth.

Only a few days of practice with Bugchaser has thon slow-blinking in response instead of hissing.

“I’m Spruce—the owner of this inn. It’s nice to meet you, Nightcaller.” Ce shakes thons hand. “I’m glad you’re here—wherever you came from. You saved that little satyr’s life.

“I’ll go see what Felix has stashed in the fridge.”

“The satyr answers to Bugchaser,” thon corrects softly, borrowing cir voice for the new word. It isn’t a traditional name, but she accepted nothing else.

“And thank you.” The food looks nice.

Bugchaser makes a poor imitation of the finding-call thon taught her. Thon answers. Curses in thons language, rushing towards the sound.

“Bug?”

“You said—” she sniffles, making that awful cry-choke sound. “You said you’d stay. You promised.”

“I know, pup, I did. And I will. But you need someone to help with your leg, and I’m not a healer. I didn’t even know iron hurt you until it did.

“You need more than I have.”

Healer Katy watches Nightcaller. Thon ran into her nest, after all. “You are welcome to stay down here while we work. She trusts you—stress only makes things hurt worse and heal slower. Just wash your hands first, please.

“There’s a sink over there, with a few kinds of soap in case one is toxic for you.”

They’re labelled, but thon can’t read their words well. Picking one that smells like medicine, thon listens to her words.

Bugchaser was hurt by humans.

“If that hurts you, Bugchaser, I’ll eat them.” Thon bares thons teeth, touching thons forehead to hers with realistic prey-crunching noises for effect.

She giggles, taking thons claim braid in her hand. “Don’t be scared, Nightie.”

Better. Thon stands back, trying to place the odd scent in the room. Slightly off from human: metallic and sickly-sweet, masked by medicinal herbs. Are the herbs masking it on purpose, or is it just convenient?

“Healer,” thon says after a moment, “are you a sick human or something else?”

Her teeth are slightly sharper, and the scent of fear creeps into thons awareness. A pair of eyes on thon. Felix.

Felix knows, then.

Felix knows, and it’s something that doesn’t get calm reactions.

She hums, “No one has asked me that in a long time.

“I used to be human. Humans now would call me a vampire.

“While I do have the parasite, I’ve been successful at preventing its growth for over two hundred years now. I wouldn’t quite call myself either, so I just call myself a healer.”

“New question: what is a vampire?” It sounds like a thrall, but a pup’s venom isn’t a parasite.

“Oh, your world doesn't have vampires? How interesting,” she says, explaining what she means. Explains what the parasite does, how it spreads, and how she has a treatment humans are too afraid to learn about.

“Thralls?” Thon tips thons head. “We can make thralls, too.

“If a pup bites a human, it will prioritize the pup’s life over its own. Until it dies, or the pup finds a proper guardian.” It isn’t thons voice. It’s a close translation of healer-lorekeeper Lifetracker’s words, and it would be disrespectful to speak them as thons own.

“We usually return them so they can be cured, but I’m not sure how it works.”

Many questions. A hailstorm of questions. Thon echoes her words, trying to pick out something coherent.

“Mimicry?” She writes something in her book (where did the book come from?), muttering something containing the word ‘cricket’. Which is a bug. A delicious, creak-chirping bug. What crickets have to do with thon’s voice, thon doesn’t know.

“Talk later?” Thons food might spoil if thon leaves it any longer, and prey is fragile around spoiled food. “Bugchaser needs to eat, and—

“Felix, you’re the same kind of prey as her. What does prey eat?”

Old Spruce Inn Masterpost | Nightcaller Masterpost

[oldspruceinn]

“If you don't help this one, I will eat you. If you hurt this one, I will bind you in iron and eat you limb by limb.”

(Thank you for agreeing to let Nightcaller into your world!! And also the new kenku obsession, they’re really cool and Cricket is the best)

Thank you for having the idea! This has been so much fun

Lore drop on vampires in this world!

Mentions of broken bones, threats that are not followed through, parasites and vampirism

The only warning that something was about to happen was one single, solid *thud*. Dahlia was otherwise silent, just one kick. A sign that the donkey felt that someone was trying to hide. Moments later, the door was shoved open by a stranger, a species that Spruce, for sure, had never seen. 

And Spruce had seen a lot of species in their long life. 

Spruce was already standing when they entered, and Felix (feeling especially brave today) had left the kitchen to see what was going on. They just looked at each other for a moment, Spruce completely taken aback by the strangeness of it all, when the newcomer opened their cloak. They heard Felix gasp softly. 

“If you don't help this one, I will eat you. If you hurt this one, I will bind you in iron and eat you limb by limb.” The stranger spoke in a soft growl, teeth bared. Clearly expecting resistance. 

Of course, there was none. There was a hurt child, a hurt satyr child. Far younger than they usually dealt with, but there was no way they would turn the child away. 

Felix murmured something that Spruce didn't quite catch and ran off, then returned with a blanket. One of the blankets that Spruce and Katy had made together when they first started the Inn. It was green, with wildflowers embroidered along the stitching. 

Felix was already sniffly when he asked, “Can I have her?”  The stranger agreed, but in his voice. He would think more about that later, but right now his focus was on the child. He wrapped her up carefully, she blinked up at him sleepily. “Hi there little one. We're gonna get you all fixed up, don't you worry.”

Spruce, somewhat at a loss for words, decided that the next step was to offer the stranger, the new friend, a meal. They knew firsthand how exhausting it could be to travel with an injured youngling. 

The day got even stranger when they answered. “I'll eat. Anything meat, even carrion. I'm not from this world, so I didn't know what to feed the pup other than plants and soup.” Spruce idly wondered if they had anything to do with Nine, the strange space cat creature sleeping in their kitchen. 

Finally, the new friend introduced themselves. Nightcaller. That was a very cool name. They shook hands as Nightcaller explained, “I'm a library for my people. A guardian of history.” They had had several different voices already — they were a mimic. Perhaps Cricket could meet them soon, they desperately needed a library. 

“I'm Spruce,” they replied with a smile. “I'm the owner of this Inn. It's nice to meet you, Nightcaller.  I'm glad you're here, wherever you came from. You saved that little satyr's life.” They had no good way of explaining their gratitude, but food might help. “I'll go see what Felix has stashed in the fridge.”

As they walked away, they heard another voice, one they assumed belonged to Nightcaller. “The satyr answers to Bugchaser.”

Nightcaller and Bugchaser. Quite a pair. 

They returned with, well, a few options. There was a beef stew, a roast chicken, and a couple pork chops. They did say meat, after all. And they seemed to appreciate it, thanked them. 

Felix took the young satyr downstairs while Nightcaller and Spruce were talking. Katy was already prepared for an emergency — she usually was, but she had heard Dahlia's kick. She put a lot of faith in Dahlia, and the donkey had never steered her wrong before. 

There was a journal already open, ready to notate everything she did with the satyr, who Felix said he was pretty sure was named Bugchaser.  First of all, her leg looked very painful. Broken. It appeared to be the victim of a claw trap.  Katy winced sympathetically. She turned to start collecting supplies, pain medication, antibiotics, comfrey to help knit the bone back together, numbing salve — everything she could think of to make the process easier on her young patient. 

It wasn't long before the young satyr started to cry. Nightcaller rushed down the stairs and Felix became tense, remembering their threats from earlier. Katy, of course, was much less concerned. 

“Bug?” 

The little satyr sniffled at their voice. Cried that they'd promised to stay, and Nightcaller reassured her, explained that they weren't a healer, that Bugchaser needed more help than they could give. 

Katy smiled, watching the interaction. They cared deeply for each other. That was important. “You are welcome to stay down here while we work. She trusts you — stress only makes things hurt worse and heal slower. Just wash your hands first, please.”  She gestured to a sink in the corner. “There's a sink over there with a few kinds of soap, in case one is toxic for you.”  She watched as they sniffed the soap and chose one, and decided they would need to sit down and discuss their species soon.

They soon returned to Bugchaser’s side. “If that hurts you, Bugchaser, I'll eat them.” Neither Katy nor Felix doubted that for a second. 

They touched foreheads and Bug giggled, and Felix visibly relaxed. “Don't be scared, Nightie,” the child replied, clearly feeling much safer now. 

Katy returned to her exam quietly, offering the kid a shimmery purple vial of pain medicine and a deep blue vial of antibiotics. “The first one tastes like blackberries, the second tastes like blueberry pie. We'll get you some pie when we're done, alright?” 

Nightcaller was silent for several moments before speaking again. “Healer, are you a sick human or something else?” Katy’s eyes instinctively met Felix’s, and he gave her a very brave little nod before turning to watch their reaction. 

She hummed softly, thinking. “No one has asked me that in a long time.” Memories of Spruce finding her, rescuing her twice, slumping against the wall beside her and laughing all came to mind. 

Memories of all the times they discussed trust, the first time they told her they trusted her, after all the times they'd saved her life. 

Memories of their first missions together. The times she was trapped, and how they always went back for her. 

“I used to be human,” she started slowly, glancing at Felix again. “Humans now would call me a vampire.”  Memories of her wife, who she failed to save. “While I do have the parasite, I've been successful at preventing its growth for over two hundred years now.” Gods, two hundred years. “I wouldn't quite call myself either, so I just call myself a healer.”

“New question: what is a vampire?” That was, in fact, a new question. It was also an exciting question, someone who had no preconceived notions of vampirism. She could get a new perspective on all her research!

Alright Katy, stay calm. “Oh, your world doesn't have vampires? How interesting.” She looked to Bug, who was too distracted by the shimmery bottles to react. 

“I have a more complete understanding of vampirism than anyone in the world.  I was the leading researcher, before I contracted the parasite. I could have it eradicated, or very nearly, within a few generations — but unfortunately, no one will listen to a vampire on how to fix vampirism.

“At its core, vampirism is caused by a parasite. When it infects the brain and central nervous system of a person, it begins to eat away everything but the most basic instincts. It hurts, it blinds you with rage. Their eyes turn red due to blood pooling. These poor people lash out and attack everyone around them, spreading the parasite to anyone they bite. They do not survive long, and they cannot be cured. The kindest thing to do is to end their suffering immediately and by whatever means necessary.”  She remembered the day her wife reached that stage. She had still tried to save her. She failed, and ended up mauled. 

“Before that point, though, it is completely possible to put it into remission in 95% of cases.  It takes heavy doses of anti-parasitics, antibiotics, antitoxins, and analgesics. In some cases, blood exchange transfusions are necessary, but if all those steps are taken, the individual will almost always go into remission. The parasite still causes physical changes — it alters your immune system, triggers allergies, causes severe anemia — but you won't lose your mind.

“Interestingly enough, if an early stage vampire becomes pregnant, they will not hit end-stage. They will stay in control, just… changed. The child will be born a vampire, but they seem to be completely stable. Born with all the signs of an end-stage vampire, but completely in control. There is no reason for these vampires to attack humans, but many do, for reasons I cannot comprehend. Some folks seem to have a natural immunity to the parasite, or maybe there's a control of the parasite only present in those born vampires. Some who have been bitten and not changed have reported feelings of mind-numbing euphoria — it can apparently become addictive. People call those folks thralls.” She realized she had been info-dumping… for a while. Oops. She just hadn't had anyone to discuss this with for so long. 

Nightcaller didn't seem bothered. “Thralls? We can make thralls too.” Then, they spoke in a different voice, a revelation that left Katy’s brain buzzing and hands scrambling for a different notebook. They went on to explain how when a pup of their species bites a human, the human will prioritize the life of the pup over their own. Which was a very cool adaptation (she wrote it on a sticky note), but they were a mimic! Like Cricket, but without, apparently, the same struggles. She glanced back at her little patient, reasoned that she still needed a few more minutes for the pain meds to take full effect, and turned her attention back to Nightcaller. 

Felix saw the glint in her eyes and knew exactly what it was, so he stepped in to entertain the young satyr with childhood stories he remembered. 

“Mimicry! You're a mimic! That's amazing! We have another mimic here, Cricket, a kenku — and I know they would love to meet you, if you're willing. They're very young still, they need guidance.  Can you come up with your own words or do you have to hear them?  Can you create voices?” She watched, fascinated, as they seemed to play back her own voice like a recording to capture words they had missed. She wrote that down too. 

Felix cleared his throat and Katy shook her head, snapping back to attention. “Talk later?” Nightcaller asked, and she agreed, setting her notebook to the side and re-centering Bug’s. She focused in on treating the young satyr now that her leg was properly numb, too excited to pay much attention to the conversation happening behind her. 

Felix, however, was very focused, as Nightcaller called him prey, and asked what their kind of prey eats. “Um, calling people ‘prey’ is sort of... alarming to the person you're speaking to. But don't worry, I have plenty of food for her. Katy promised her blackberry pie as a treat after she's done treating her leg. Go up and finish your dinner — we'll be up soon.”

He watched as they returned up the stairs, then returned his attention to keeping Bug distracted while Katy finished her work.

PaintCrab's Masterpost

Taglist: @rainbowsandwhumperflies

Nightcaller's Perspective (Written by the amazing @paintcrab)

[oldspruceinn]

Cinnamon Rolls with Felix and Cricket

Follow up to this post

Step One: Write down the recipe so that Cricket has something to follow, then explain each step so that they also have the words. Let them help you set out all the ingredients. Remind them that no one will be mad if they forget one. Promise them it isn't their responsibility to feed everyone.

Step Two: Tell them that if they don't wanna make cinnamon rolls, they don't have to. They can always pick something else. No one will be mad. The kitchen is yours, and they will always be safe with you.

Step Three: Drink more coffee. Make them some hot cocoa. Watch as they point at a different dessert in a cookbook, praise them for having an opinion and making it known.

Step Four: Repeat "Apple Pie!" back and forth for a while. Put away the yeast and get out ingredients for pie instead. Praise them for remembering where things are.

Step Five: Make the pie crust! It's still better if it sits overnight, anyway. Let them whisk the flour and salt together, laugh with them when they end up with flour on their face. Throw some flour on your own face to match. Hear Nine chitter and toss some flour on them as well, then praise them for seeking attention. Show Cricket how to cut the butter into the flour, but do it yourself this time. Stir while they pour in cold water. Divide the dough in two, give half to them to wrap up while you wrap the other. Put both in the fridge.

Step Six: Notice them jump at the shadow at the door, show them that it's just Spruce coming to say goodnight. Remind them that they're safe. Watch as they hug Spruce goodnight, hug Spruce yourself too. Have a group hug for good measure. Fight the urge to throw flour on Spruce's face, but grin when they raise an eyebrow at you.

Step Seven: Clean up and close up. Make a list of foods in the fridge and stick it to the door. There are always leftovers, and it isn't your job to anticipate every emergency.

Step Eight: Take Cricket to Aspen's room for the night. Give in when they beg you to stay too. Cuddle in like you all did that first night. Remind them that they are wanted here, remember it yourself. Promise them no one will take them away.

Step Nine: Make tea when Cricket has a nightmare, sit up while you and Aspen both comfort them, rub their back as they cling to Aspen. Get them back to sleep and chat quietly with Aspen for a while. Eventually fall back asleep with the Kenku child tucked safely between you both.

Step Ten: Wake up! Pocket an apple for Dahlia on the way out the door, with Cricket riding on your shoulders.

Step Eleven: Chase fall leaves with Cricket still on your shoulders, remind them that no one will be in trouble if you're a few minutes late.

Step Twelve: Give Dahlia her snack. Set Cricket down so they can hug the donkey. Accept your coffee from Spruce and watch as Cricket accepts their hot cocoa. Share a smile with Spruce.

Step Thirteen: Head to the kitchen. Help Cricket roll out the pie crust and transfer it to a pie pan. Put it back in the fridge.

Step Fourteen: Take the other crust and cut it into strips to weave together for the lattice over the top. Let Cricket sprinkle cinnamon sugar over it. Praise them for offering.

Step Fifteen: Make the pie filling! Slice up the apples, give Cricket a slice. Add in lemon juice and mix them well. Mix sugar, flour, and spices and let Cricket mix it with the apples. Let Cricket eat a sugar-coated apple slice. Give one to Nine. Add vanilla, then some cream.

Step Sixteen: Melt butter in a skillet, then cook down the apple mixture till the apples are tender. Set it to the side to cool for a little while. Preheat the oven.

Step Seventeen: Dance around with Cricket in the kitchen. Show them the bits of glass and crystals you have hanging in the window and the way they make lights and rainbows dance around the room. Watch Nine chase the lights and giggle.

Step Eighteen: Pour the cooled apple mixture into the pie crust. Show Cricket how to weave the lattice over the pie. Brush the top with an egg wash, then let them sprinkle sugar all over it.

Step Nineteen: Lick the bowl while the pie bakes. Encourage Cricket to do the same. Make more coffee while they're distracted with that, and put some apple cider on the stove. Show Cricket how everyone likes their coffee, remind them you don't expect them to remember.

Step Twenty: Turn the oven down a little and set a timer, then go hang out with Spruce, Aspen, and Katy for a few minutes. Gush over how helpful Cricket has been in the kitchen.

Step Twenty-One: Leave Cricket with them while you go back to pull the pie out of the oven and set it in the window to cool. Start making other things for breakfast, including Katy's omelette.

Step Twenty-Two: Slice the pie and give everyone a slice. Save the biggest slice for Cricket. Listen as everyone tells them how amazing it is and how glad they are that they're here.

Step Twenty-Three: Go back to the kitchen again, realize they've always been exactly that genuine with you. Try not to get emotional. Fail. Give Nine the Kitchen Cat head scritches. Make pancakes and biscuits with cinnamon butter and start thinking about lunch.

Taglist: @rainbowsandwhumperflies

[oldspruceinn]

On Patrol

Anyone just want a silly little day in the life of Dahlia, the totally completely normal donkey that lives at the Inn? Of course you do!

It was still dark, when she woke to the sound of Spruce's voice talking to Strix, the owl. And when Melli trotted outside to start her morning chores. Silly dog.

Dahlia didn't particularly like dogs, but she had accepted all manner of creatures while she lived here. And they all accepted her, so she certainly wouldn't complain.

She flipped the latch of her stable door open with a twitch of her lip, then yawned and shook out her coat. She walked over to the feed room and opened that door, then grabbed a mouthful of grain and chewed it thoughtfully. She did everything thoughtfully, really. At least, she thought so. And then she walked into the room behind that, down into a basement under her stable. Only Spruce knew it existed.

There were shelves down here, a carefully arranged collection. Interesting rocks and minerals of all kinds. Odd trinkets. A whole section of all the locks that Atlas and Spruce and all the others had taken. There were bones from species that hadn't been seen in over a century, in pristine condition. Seeds and bulbs from hundreds of plants. An entire museum of her own devising.

She added another apple seed to the collection, then yawned again. Satisfied that everything was where it was supposed to go and nothing had been touched, she clip-clopped back up the stairs, back through the feed room, grabbed another bite of grain on her way, then shut the door behind her.

She left through her stable, paused to nose another interesting rock on her way out, then shut that door behind herself as well. Everyone knew it was her stable. Everyone knew not to touch her door. No one needed to know of the collection below.

Her personal morning routine completed, she trotted up the hill to wait outside the greenhouse. She could see Spruce inside, with all their frogs and flowers and bugs. Sometimes, she half wondered if they were a dragon, and endangered species were their hoard. But of course not. She would know, for sure.

She watched as Melli dropped a basket of eggs on the porch and then ran off for her own routine. She half considered going ahead and taking the eggs to the inn, but no- there came Spruce, right on time. They rubbed her ears and spoke to her and gave her an apple, like they did every morning. The pair walked together back to Spruce's cabin, and Dahlia watched as they dropped off flowers in the vase by the wooden picture frame on the table by their door. They walked over and nuzzled the photo gently, careful not to knock it over, and shared a quiet moment with Spruce there, a moment for the man they both so desperately missed.

She reached up and snuffled Spruce's cheek, and they smiled and rubbed her neck. She pressed her head to their chest for a few seconds, then turned, grabbed the basket of eggs, and carried them down to the Inn.

She set the basket down to pull the back door open, held it open with her hoof while she collected the basket once more, and then walked inside to the kitchen. The basket always went in the same spot on the counter for Felix. She flipped on lights as she passed them- knowing full well that Spruce preferred to mostly use lanterns. But Felix wanted the place well-lit when he walked in- dark rooms made him nervous.

She heard Katy working downstairs and brayed a greeting, and was pleased when the healer called up with a greeting of her own. The donkey propped the front door open as Spruce walked in the back door to start the coffee. Dahlia hated coffee.

There were rooms inside the inn, but most of the rooms were outside so that folks could get immediately outside and know they weren't trapped. They had considered the issue of security but well, everyone knew that no one with any sense would ever try anything with Dahlia on guard. Still, she walked the perimeter, checking the outside of each room for any signs of tampering or struggle.

All she found was where a raccoon had tried to get in from the cold. She would have Spruce build another wildlife hutch soon.

She heard Felix's hoofbeats and trotted back to the inn, then brayed loudly in his face when he walked up. He grinned and brayed back- their own morning routine- then gave her a chunk of honeycomb. She took it with a snort, pretending to be annoyed, and he scratched her on the shoulder and then walked inside, greeting Spruce and, soon, Katy.

Dahlia watched as everyone came in for breakfast, greeting her on their way in, patting her on their way out, sneaking her all sorts of snacks. Her collection of people to protect. After the main breakfast rush, Felix snuck her out a cinnamon roll and told her not to tell Spruce. Spruce brought her a cup of apple cider and told her not to tell Felix.

She snorted at both of them.

She stood on the porch for most of the day, part of the time standing at alert, most of the time half-asleep. After so long, she and Spruce had a code worked out well. Bray for a newcomer, bray louder and repeatedly for something weird, kick the edge of the door once if someone needed help or might be on the run.

Roar if something was very wrong.

But nothing was ever very wrong. Because no one ever wanted to hear her roar. Only Spruce and Katy remembered the last time that happened.

And Dahlia was pretty confident it would never happen again.

Tag: @rainbowsandwhumperflies