post-apocalyptic-fantasy-au

[post-apocalyptic-fantasy-au]

6

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It didn't take long for the strength to leave Tango's body. His legs went first, buckling underneath him while Impulse was in the middle of explaining the seadust behind the oven and Skizz was putting a tray of what looked like flaky bread in.

"Woah!" Impulse gasped as Tango folded like a piece of paper.

Skizz closed the oven door and hurried to Tango's side. "Okay, Top, let's get you back to the sofa."

"I'm fine!" Tango protested, wriggling away from Skizz as he tried picking Tango up. "I can stand, I'm fine!"

"Can you?" Impulse frowned.

To prove his point before Skizz could try picking him up again, Tango grabbed one of the worktops and heaved himself to his feet. His feet threatened to disappear from under him again, but he clung to the bench until he felt strong enough to take a step. Then another. He couldn't make himself let go of the workbench, merely transferring his hand to the wall when it ran out.

He paused in the doorway. There was nothing to support him between there and the sofa. Behind him, Skizz shifted, ready to grab him. Tango took a deep breath, and moved.

He pushed off the doorway and started staggering towards the sofa at top speed. Every step brought him closer to the floor, but each brought him closer to his destination as well. He made it just in time, sitting heavily into the cushions with a sigh.

He met Skizz's eyes with a small grin. "See? Fine."

Skizz chuckled, shaking his head. "You'd better get some rest, dude!"

"Yeah, man," Impulse agreed. "You won't get any better by pushing yourself. Trust me, I know."

"He does know," Skizz confirmed. "Don't try it."

"Whatever, man." Tango rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. He was starting to think he might actually like it here.

Zedaph woke up then.

He was not a slow waker, nor a quiet one. He snorted and gasped and shot straight up into the air with a yell, making them all jump.

"Harr!" Zed paused in the air, caught his breath and looked around, immediately chipper and full of the same amount of energy he always seemed to have. "Good morning, all!"

"Morning, Zed," Skizz and Impulse chorused.

"Good morning, Zedaph." It was the first time Tango had been able to say the greeting today with a genuine smile.

"All this racket," Torchy grumbled, and Tango jumped. He'd thought Torchy was still asleep. "Can't a dragon get any sleep around here?"

"You can wake up anyway, Torchy," Tango told him.

Torchy only draped a wing over his head and curled up tighter on the sofa. Tango chuckled, scooped him up, and settled him in his lap.

From next door, the knocking of Gem's hoof finally fell silent. The house felt unnaturally quiet without the constant noise, and Tango felt like something should be done about it. He didn't know how to break the silence, though.

Luckily, he was surrounded by absolutely no shortage of people who knew how to talk.

"How are you doing today, fellas?" Zedaph asked.

"I'm doing good!" Impulse beamed. "Tango fixed my oven, so we can finally stop struggling with it!"

"I don't know what an oven is, but I'm glad!" Zedaph laughed.

"Oh!"

All four of them dissolved into laughter for seemingly no reason, making Torchy grumble again.

A brief scuffle from Gem's room was followed by the door swinging open and a very disgruntled centaur clopping out, still in a pyjama top, her curls a mess. "For a bunch of old men, you're very loud."

Skizz laughed and hurried to her side, reaching up as she bent to let him hug her tight. "Gemstone!"

She rolled her eyes, but smiled. "Morning, Skizz. Morning, guys."

"Morning!"

"Good morning, Gem."

"Sorry we woke you." Impulse smiled as he patted the shoulder of her forelegs.

Gem just shrugged. "It was probably time to wake up anyway. How are you doing, Tango?"

"I'm doing good!"

"Yeah, he's only collapsed once today!"

Tango flinched, before realising Skizz was only teasing. Then he let his grin return.

Zedaph's laughing voice, however, was immediately shot through with concern. "Tango, you collapsed?"

He was proud of how easily he matched Skizz's tone when he protested, "Only once!"

"Right, well, I'm going to get dressed." Gem started to turn back to her room, then paused to sniff the air. "Skizz, are you making croissants?"

"Yeah! You should have seen Top, dude, he was insane! Fixed that oven right up in barely a minute."

"It was nothing." Tango shrugged, his fire burning brighter as heat rushed to his face. "Not that big a deal."

Impulse sat down beside him on the sofa and clapped a hand on his back. "You're being modest."

Gem chuckled. "Well, I'm sure it was amazing. Anyway, give me a few minutes. Won't be long!" With that, she vanished back to her room, the door closing behind her.

After breakfast - Tango decided croissants were amazing, but not as good as pancakes - Gem invited Tango to join her in her garden. Tango hesitated for only a moment, not wanting to risk getting sick again, before realising he wanted to get out; he wanted fresh air again. He felt a lot stronger now that he'd eaten, and if everything went well he'd be able to experience the outside world without feeling like he was dying for the first time. So he agreed and followed Gem outside.

Immediately, his feet stalled, staring, brain reeling as it struggled to take in what it was seeing.

They were in a small clearing in the trees, which were everywhere, and big, and close. There were so many, filled with so many sounds, so many smells, so many small movements, each of which his eyes picked up, trying to look in every direction at once, trying to see and hear and smell and feel and taste everything, trying to breathe, to think, to remember. The nearest tree was maybe five steps ahead of him, and he moved to it almost unconsciously, barely registering his own movements as he spent every ounce of available brain space instead documenting the movements of birds and of insects and of leaves waving in a breeze and twigs snapping and falling and somewhere water was flowing and it seemed to be hanging off the trees and if he reached up he could have caught it on his fingers. Instead, he reached out towards the tree and pressed two fingers to its trunk before yanking his hand back with a sharp intake of breath because it was hard and rough and spiky and scratchy and not at all like the smooth wood of his desk or of the house and he braced himself and touched it again with his whole hand this time and felt the grooves and the tiny creatures skittering around beneath his touch and the moss tickling the spaces between his fingers and he pulled away again and looked down at his hand and it was dirty and covered in moss and there was something small running along his thumb and-

Tango shuddered, hand jerking involuntarily as he yelped, and the bug was flung off him. Barely breathing, he took a step past the tree, then another, and before long, he was completely surrounded. Desperate for a reprieve from a million different stimuli, he closed his eyes, letting just his hearing take over. There were birds, so many birds, singing everywhere, above around flying wings flapping calling to each other rustling something running around in the trees several somethings moving chattering squawking clicking whistling screaming crying laughing hissing and the water again flowing to his left loud and fast falling running splashing roaring and-

His lungs forced in a breath, and the smells assaulted him, filling his nose his mouth his throat his chest his blood, earth and water and dirt and dung and rot and fresh and leaves and something that smelled blue and moss and animals and it was so much too much it was dirty and busy and full and he needed to breathe and he couldn't and he was staggering back, eyes open again, taking in colour on top of everything else and it was green and brown and yellow and blue and purple and red and orange and grey and black and white and there was something against the back of his foot and he was falling and he fell and there were leaves beneath is fingers and-

The warmth of fire against his face. A voice calling his name from far away, impossibly far away, hands on his arms that he didn't have the energy to shrug off but which made it all so so so so so much worse and he was moving away but he wasn't moving he was being dragged he needed-

A sharp pain across his cheek. Tango gasped, eyes flying open and seeing, not so many trees, but a face. Green eyes framed by red curls. Gem.

"Sorey." She sounded only a little sorry. "What just happened?" She had a way of lengthening her “What” to last a full second at least. 

"I-" Slowly, Tango opened his eyes wider, letting himself see more than just Gem's face. She was lying in front of him so that she could be nearly eye level with him. Torchy stood on her shoulder, small face twisted into a faked indifference.

"You can go back in if you're not feeling well," she offered.

Tango shook his head hard. "No, no, I'm fine." Breathing seemed an impossibility, and his heart was pounding harder than it ever had before, and if he were any closer to the trees he would be setting them ablaze with how strong his fire was roaring, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to stand, and he was shaking like a candle in wind, and he burned with longing for the four sterile walls of his room at the lab, but he was fine. He could do this. He had to.

But then he accidentally looked over Gem's shoulder and saw the trees again and his next breath hissed sharply into his lungs because seemed to be staring at him laughing at him and he curled over covering his face with his hands and breathed, slow and steady just like how Cub had showed him, in for two hold for two out for four, in for two, hold for two, out for four. 1 2 1 2 1 2 3 4, 1 2 1 2 1 2 3 4. Steady and even. Calming. When he could breath normally again, he let himself look up and meet Gem's confused, concerned look.

Without looking behind her again, Tango steeled himself and stood slowly. He was fine. He could do this. He was fine.

He was on his feet in no time, even holding out his hands to help Gem up too, but she mercifully didn't take them. Tango supposed they probably would have both ended up on the floor in a heap if she had.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she double checked, scooping Torchy from her shoulder and handing him back to Tango, who lifted him to sit on his head.

Tango nodded, resolute. "Yeah. I wanna see your garden!"

"Okay then." Despite clearly not believing him, she led the way around the back of the house.

Tango carefully kept his gaze away from the trees hemming them in on all sides, blocking him, trapping him in a ring of mud and filth and-

Gem's garden was neat and tidy, vegetables growing in orderly rows, something Gem told him were trellises keeping those that would grow more wildly in line.

"Those are pumpkins." She pointed at the first row. "And then I have peppers, cauliflower, peas, green beans, carrots, onions, and potatoes. And over here-" She turned to show him a collection of pots kept in a prize place "-are my tomatoes!"

He seemed to remember Doc mentioning something about growing tomatoes of his own as well, now that he thought about it. He hadn't known what they were at the time, had assumed they were some new culture or something. He'd never thought they were something you could eat, or that they would grow on plants so big and wily.

When Tango looked back at Gem, he could see the pride in her face from her little plot of earth. As long as he kept his eyes on her and her vegetables, Tango could feel himself calming, so he asked her, "Tell me about them?"

Gem's face seemed to light up, and she launched into a speech about planting times about weather and water and soil acidity and fertiliser (apparently she made her own). It was so obvious how much effort she put into this, every single variable lovingly determined and carefully controlled to ensure the conditions are optimal for each plant. She explained how she had to seperate certain plants because of the way they competed for resources, and the way she measured rainfall to know if and when she needed to add water or cover them up to keep them from taking in too much, and how Impulse sometimes made moulds for her to grow the potatoes in to give them silly shapes. She showed him how she tilled the soil, making sure it had just the right amount of rocks and air bubbles and adding nutrients where needed, getting him to help so he could see how it worked first hand.

By the time she finally ran out of things to talk about, Tango's episode was long forgotten, both of them smiling and laughing as he struggled to move a shovelful of soil from one end of a bed to the other without tipping it over himself.

They ended up staying out there until Impulse's voice rang out from the door. "Lunch!"

Gem grinned at him as they stood up, both of them dirty. Tango very carefully didn't think about it, brushing off the knees of his trousers and just laughing when Gem kicked out her legs to shake off the soil clinging to her coat.

Lunch was ham and cheese sandwiches, simple but still a million times better than what Tango was used to. While the others finished theirs off quickly, not thinking about it, he took his time, savouring each bite. The bread was soft, so so soft, and the cheese was strong and filled his mouth with flavour, and the ham was delicately sweetened. It tasted like freedom.

Already, he'd completely forgotten that just a few hours ago, he had been missing the lab. Now, he was back to never wanting to return. 

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The next one will be 100% cute, I promise. I'm gonna go ahead and blame Misty for this for reminding me the forest would be so incredibly overwhelming <3. But look! ZITS! Also Gem and Tango interaction because I need them to hang out more, they have such a fun dynamic.

[post-apocalyptic-fantasy-au]

My first call for requests! I have an enforced break from my event this next week, and I want to use it to update pafau once or twice (just don't tell Cal or Izzy xD). So if there's anything you want Tango to get up to while he's chilling and recovering at Imp&Skizz's place before we push on with the plot, send an ask!

Alternatively, you can ask for some worldbuilding, or just ask about any part of the au that you want, whatever you want! Have fun with it.

[post-apocalyptic-fantasy-au]

5

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Impulse made the promised soup for dinner that first night, and Tango found that Gem was right. It was delicious, a perfect blend of meat (real meat!) and vegetables (fresh from Gem's own garden!) and broth, every flavour blooming in its own right and simultaneously supporting all the others. They ate it with buttered bread, which was light and fluffy and, like the pancakes, still warm; nothing like the cheap rolls Doc sometimes brought him.

Impulse told him the meat was beef as Gem carefully added a garnish of small rocks and explained it was to help with digestion. Gem told him the vegetables were potato and leek and onion.

Tango realised, as Skizz tore chunks of his bread off rather than taking bites like Impulse was, that his teeth were just as sharp as Tango's own. He still had no idea what Skizz was, and wasn't sure if it would be rude to ask - he knew Doc would have hated anyone to ask him - so he said nothing.

The five of them conversed relatively easily, with minimal questions regarding Tango's past being passed around. He suspected they'd had a conversation about that somewhere in the course of the afternoon.

After dinner, Gem and Skizz made a bed for Tango on the sofa while Tango showed Impulse and Zedaph how his sleeping cap worked.

It was clever thing - fire- and waterproof, thick enough that even the heat of the flames struggled to make it through, but with just enough small holes in to allow them to keep breathing and stay alive. It protected his bed, or the sofa in this case, when he slept and his head when he washed.

Impulse and Zed were fascinated, asking about a million questions about how Tango's hair worked and how the cap worked and how they'd found out it worked and how they'd realised it was necessary. Tango answered each question carefully, leaving out any mention of the lab, or anything that could point to it.

He was realising very quickly that it wasn't out of some concern for the privacy of the lab that he kept it a secret, but more out of a strange unwillingness to admit to it. He didn't want to talk about it, didn't even want to think about the lab and its goings on and his life there. He told the others only the bare minumum that would answer their questions, because he of all people understood curiousity, but didn't tell them a single thing beyond that.

Finally, Zedaph's wings started to get tired, leading him to drop slowly out of the sky, and Impulse caught him and suggested they all get some sleep.

Zedaph settled down on the sofa's armrest, and Tango lay down on the sofa, Torchy curling on his chest. It was soft - unbelievably soft - and so, so warm under the blankets. He'd never been so comfortable in his life, and on his second night away from four familiar walls, he fell asleep in seconds.

*

Tango awoke to the sun streaming in through the windows. For several minutes, he didn't move, enjoying its warmth. There was no mistaking his distance from the lab this time - he'd never even seen the sun before leaving, let alone been woken up by it. It felt like his own personal miracle.

Finally, with a sigh of resignation, he opened his eyes.

Torchy was still fast asleep on his chest, only the scales on his chest keeping his lungs from collapsing under the weight, and Tango could spy Zedaph snoozing on the armrest in an entirely different position that he fell asleep in. From up the stairs that Impulse and Skizz disappeared to, gentle snoring was floating down to him. A faint knocking came from Gem's room as she presumably twitched her hooves in her sleep.

Tango's eyes landed on the messenger bag leaning against the sofa, and he thought of the smaller bag hidden inside, his gift from the Queen.

Careful to avoid stirring Torchy, Tango reached down, opened the flap and pulled out the drawstring bag. For a moment, he merely held it in his hand, feeling it's extreme weight. He couldn't imagine how such a small item could be so heavy.

Tango slotted two clawed fingers into the bag and tugged it open, turning it upside down.

Out fell a small rock.

It was no bigger than the top half of his thumb, roughly triangular in shape, and maybe a centimetre thick in the centre.

And yet it weighed as much as a decent sized stone. A geologist had brought him some once, to see what he would do with it. The thing had barely fit in his hand, so he'd had to use both to hold it securely, and it had been almost perfectly spherical. It had weighed almost exactly as much as this tiny slip of rock.

What was so special about this, Tango wondered. Why couldn't he open it in front of Doc and Cub? How could it possibly save his life? Unless he shoved it down someone's throat or something, which he wasn't particularly inclined to do, he couldn't see how the pebble could be used as a weapon.

Tango slid it around in his hand - he would have rolled it, but since its sides were almost perfectly flat, it didn't do much rolling. He found he quite enjoyed its strange weight. It felt... secure, grounded somehow, despite resting on nothing but his hand.

Something shifted upstairs, footsteps crossed the ceiling, then silence for a few moments. A grunt. More footsteps, this time heading this way.

Tango panicked. He was supposed to be up and ready by the time someone came to collect him in the morning, but if he moved now, Torchy would wake up and do what he always did when he didn't wake up naturally: burn the place down. But if he stayed put, he'd be in so much trouble! He had to move!

He tried shifted Torchy carefully, but the moment Tango slid his hands under the tiny dragon's body, he stirred, starting to wake up. Tango froze. No, no, no, no, no!

He was dead. This was it. Whoever was coming would be furious at him, and he'd deserve it! He should have planned for this, shouldn't have been so foolish as to lie there and do nothing after waking! Idiot!

The footsteps reached the stairs, and Tango's fear left him a statue, lying helpless on the sofa, ready for the punishment he knew awaited him.

They'd trained him so well! He'd worked so, so hard to do what they wanted, and it wasn't enough. He still couldn't be good enough.

No. No, he couldn't just accept this. He still had a few seconds. He had to be good enough. He had to.

Tango braced himself and readied his hands where they were still tucked under Torchy's body. He would have to be quick about this.

He could do this.

Without hesitation - he didn't have time for hesitation - he moved, keeping his hands as stationary as he could as he shot to his feet, before gently lowering Torchy back onto the sofa. The dragon stirred, snorted, shot out a stream of smoke, and didn't awake.

Tango yanked his sleeping cap off, shaking his head a bit to get his flames roaring again, and tossed it onto the sofa. He was just stretching casually - he had had to twist his arms painfully to get up without moving them - when Skizz appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

The other male paused when he spotted Tango, then grinned. "Hey, Top!"

"Good morning, Skizz," Tango said, doing his best to make it sound like he wasn't reciting the same thing he said every morning, changing only the name.

Skizz glanced at Torchy and Zedaph, still fast asleep, then gestured for them both to move to the kitchen. Tango followed him, and Skizz closed the door once they were both inside. Tango couldn't help but feel boxed in.

"How're you feeling, buddy?" Skizz asked. "Did you sleep okay?"

Tango nodded, smiling like his heart wasn't still pounding. "I'm feeling a lot better."

"Good, I'm glad." Skizz's grin wasn't fading, so Tango didn't let his, either. "Are you always up this early?"

"I'm not used to getting sun in the morning," he admitted, before realising that may have been too much information.

But Skizz merely nodded. "It took me a while to get used to it as well. You'll get there, don't worry." Skizz clapped his hands, then rubbed them together. "What do you say we get some breakfast started?"

"Sounds good!" Tango had no idea what help he could be, considering this was the first time in his life he'd ever even been in a kitchen before, but he would certainly try.

He looked around, hoping to at least be able to identify some of the things in the room. A few of them, he managed - the toaster and kettle, for example - as they'd been brought to him to see whether he could heat bread and water faster than them. But most were mysteries.

Skizz first crossed to one of the kitchen's larger occupants. It seemed to be a small, hollow, metal box, with a glass front and four circles on top of it. There were a collection of knobs on the front, just above the glass window, and Skizz twised one. Nothing happened.

"Dang it, dude!" Skizz grumbled, and kicked the thing. It didn't help. "This stupid oven can never decide if it wants to work or not!"

Oven. That's what the thing was called. Good to know.

"Is it... seadust-powered?" Tango asked uncertainly. Was this something everyone would know?

Again, Skizz didn't seem concerned. "Yeah. All responsibly sourced, don't worry! I provide the scales myself! But anyway, Impulse built most of it himself. The clock and timer mechanism was our buddy Etho, but Dippledop did the rest."

"I could take a look if you want?" Tango offered. "I mean, I'm not amazing or anything, but maybe I could spot something Impulse missed?"

"Sure, if you'd be up for it. I can't imagine Impulse having anything against it."

Skizz helped Tango pull the oven away from the wall to reveal the small space behind where the seadust and its tiny components were laid out. Tango crouched down and crawled closer, using his hair as a torch to peer into the hole in the wall.

It was a thing of beauty. He spotted the clock mechanism running along the side immediately, and told himself he'd have to come back to take another close look later. Right now, from what he could gather of the problem, he was looking for the on/off switch.

A glance over his shoulder located where the knob to turn it on would connect to the seadust, and when he turned back, he could see the string of dust that must have led right up to that connection point. He followed it, studying repeaters and comparators and observers carefully. It seemed to be fine, even when he looked over it a third time, checking and double checking notches on each component.

"What is that knob supposed to do?" he asked Skizz.

"Turn it on!" was Skizz's very useful reply.

"Okay... And what is it supposed to do when it's on?"

For the first time, Skizz sounded confused when he answered. "Well, get warm. You know, like an oven."

"Right. Just checking." Great, so that was a thing he was meant to know. Skizz would probably start getting suspicious of him now.

He shook off the concern and scanned the other dozens of fine blue lines. There, that one had a heating mechanism! But then he spotted another. And another. In fact, there were five heating mechanisms within this single contraption.

Okay, so he just had to find the one that connected to his knob.

He went back to the string he was following earlier, and followed it further, checking each branch that led into it until he was sure it didn't lead to any of the heaters. Finally, he found the right heater. He checked its entire circuit once, twice.

As he was triple checking every component, the kitchen door opened behind him and Impulse's voice said with a laugh, "Why is my oven in the middle of the room? Oh, hello, Tango!"

Tango, who had frozen guiltily, was very grateful for the training that allowed him to say on muscle memory alone, "Good morning, Impulse."

"He's fixing your seadust, dude!" Skizz sounded disproportionately exciting by this fact.

Tango braced himself, ready for the same anger Doc got when anyone else touched one of his seadust contraptions. Instead, Impulse only said, "Oh, good! That thing's been driving my insane for ages. See anything?"

"Uhh, not yet. Sorry." Tango wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. Where was the screaming? The accusations? The threats? Where were the demands that he put everything back just as he found it or he'd regret it for the rest of his life?

"No worries. We'll leave you to it!"

Two sets of footsteps crossed to the far corner of the room and were followed by whispers, and Tango forced himself to move again. He could wonder about Impulse's reaction another time: right now, he had a job to do.

He couldn't remember where he'd left off his last go-over, so he started from the beginning of the circuit again. Mere moments later, he spotted it: a comparator somehow stuck between comparison and subtraction. It must have gotten knocked at some point, though all the comparators Tango had ever worked with had safeguards to prevent something like that from happening.

With hands that were steady from years of practise, Tango flicked the delicate switch to comparison mode - a quick glance over the seadust around it showed that would be the best fit - and then backed his head out of the hole and stood up.

"It should work now," he announced, forgetting to wait for Skizz's help before shoving the oven back into its place.

"For real?" Impulse started at him, and Tango braced himself as the dwarf crossed to the oven and twisted the knob. A light switched on inside and the whirring of a fan filled the room. Impulse laughed, and the sound reminded Tango of the sound Cub would make when one of his experiments gave the desired outcome. "How did you do that?"

Tango shrugged. "A comparator was stuck. It was no big deal."

"No big deal? I must have looked over that seadust about a million times by now and I never once spotted that!"

"Sorry," Tango muttered.

"Don't be sorry!" Impulse was beaming, but he seemed to rein himself in a bit. "Thanks for the help, man."

Tango shrugged again, his face warming. "No problem."

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I can't wait for Tango to have his trauma responses loved out of him :D

[post-apocalyptic-fantasy-au]

4

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Tango awoke much slower this time, and in bursts, like the tide washing in. The process sped up once he realised he was waking up, and he carefully cracked his eyes open.

Then immediately closed them again with a groan as the bright lights of the lab attacked him. Even after 150 years, he still forgot about them most mornings.

"You're awake!" a voice said, and Tango frowned. That wasn't Cub. Nor was it Doc. Or any of the other scientists that paid him regular visits. "How are you feeling, man?"

He managed to crack one eye open a little bit to see...

Definitely not a scientist.

There was a pair of yellow-irised eyes set into a round, scarred, sun-dark face and topped by a crop of thick brown hair. When his eye managed to focus a little more, he was able to take in the male's figure. Short and stout. A dwarf, he realised. He'd read about them, and Doc had told him stories of a dwarf he'd known in passing before coming to the palace, but he'd never met one himself.

Tango realised he was staring and looked away. Slowly, he opened his other eye to take in the room.

He wasn't at the lab, that was for certain.

The memories came back in a rush, then, leaving the lab and getting sick and passing out. Panic clutched his chest for a second, before he forced himself to focus on the room to push it out.

The room was cosy and big, the ceiling tall - the dwarf could have stacked three times in a room this height and still have plenty of headroom. It seemed to be made mostly of wood, which struck Tango as a supremely bad idea, and was decorated in soft yellows and greens that accentuated the sunlight streaming in from the large windows. The sofa - besides which he was lying - was off-white and covered in soft cushions and blankets. The floor beneath the blanket he'd been laid on was tiled.

He remembered the dwarf's question and mentally scanned his body. He had a horrible, vaguely familiar headache, he could feel a bruise on his hip where he'd fallen, his knees stung in a way he'd never experienced before, and his legs were aching. But it didn't hurt nearly as much to breathe, though each breath still sent stabbing pains to his throat, and he was no longer fighting the constant urge to sneeze and cough. All things considered, he felt a lot better than he would have expected.

"Alright," he mumbled, pressing a hand to his forehead in an attempt to dull the pain.

Slowly, he became aware of his wider environment. There were noises coming from a room nearby, clattering and hissing and what sounded like the occasional clip-clop of hooves, similar to Doc's when he wasn't wearing shoes. And, above it all, laughter and chatter. When he focused, he thought he recognised Zedaph's voice.

"Tango?"

He started and looked around to face the dwarf again. "Hm?" Distantly, he wondered how the dwarf knew his name.

"I asked if you're hungry." The dwarf frowned at him. "Are you sure you're doing alright?"

"I'm fine," Tango told him. He managed to get his hand under himself and pushed up so he was sitting. Then he groaned and pressed his hand back to his head as the movement made it pound.

At that moment, Torchy flew in through the door the noise seemed to be coming from.

"Tango!" he called, relieved.

"Torchy!" Tango held out the hand not waging active warfare on his headache, and Torchy landed on his arm.

Without any preamble, the dragon scurried up his arm, planted himself firmly on Tango's face - blocking his vision entirely - and breathed a steady stream of fire at Tango's head. The headache eased significantly. Tango sighed, removing his hand to place it on the floor behind him so he could rest his weight on his arms. Torchy quickly ran out of fire, he stocks still depleted after helping him before, but by that time the headache had been mostly soothed.

"Thanks, buddy," Tango murmured, pressing his forehead against Torchy's chest, before the dragon repositioned himself to Tango's shoulders.

"Clever dragon you've got there," the dwarf commented.

"Yeah," Tango agreed. He reached up and scratched Torchy behind his horns. He cast his mind back, trying to figure out the last thing he could remember. He could vaguely recall Torchy blowing flames on his head, but why had he-

Oh.

"You put me out," he whispered. That was why his head was pounding, and why Torchy had spent himself lighting him again, and why he'd dreamed of the one and only other time his flames had been put out.

"I'm so sorry, we didn't know! If we had, we never would have-"

Tango shook his head, trying to silently communicate that it was fine - he didn't quite have the energy to speak too much yet. It was his own fault: he should have told Torchy all those hundreds of years ago what happened when his flames died. He should have warned him. Truth be told, he couldn't even remember why he hadn't. He was sure it was a very good reason, though.

Tango cleared his throat, winced at the pain, then asked, "How long have I been out?"

"Just the night, and most of the morning." The dwarf's yellow eyes widened as he realised something. He chuckled a little. "Oh, where are my manners? I'm Impulse!"

"Impulse?"

"Skizz chose it," the dwarf - Impulse - shrugged. "I think it suits him more than me, but he likes it, so-" Another, sightly sheepish, shrug.

At that moment, someone announced loudly, "I hear voices and bring lunch!"

Through the same door that Torchy emerged from came three people: a tall male with bright blue eyes, scars covering almost every visible inch of his pale skin and the brightest smile Tango had ever seen; a strangely familiar centaur female with red curls, a brown coat and a white tail who was clearly the reason for the tall ceiling; and Zedaph.

Zedaph flew right over to him, and when he got close enough for Tango to make out his face, he could see the faerie looked worried.

"Was it my fault? It was that medicine, wasn't it? I shouldn't have given it to you!"

Tango managed a chuckle, waving a weak arm in dismissal. Zedaph landed on the edge of his shoulder and, with a nudge, Tango convinced Torchy to move up a little to make more room for Zed.

"How're you feeling, Top?" the tall male asked.

Tango frowned. "Top? My name is Tango." He'd thought they knew that already. Impulse certainly did.

"Oh, he knows." The centaur rolled her eyes a little, but her mouth was tilted in a fond smile. "Skizz has dubbed you 'Tango Top'. I'm afraid it's a terminal diagnosis."

Something about her voice tickled something in the back of his head, something he was too confused to unwind at that moment.

"Uh..." Tango glanced at Impulse for support, but the it was the tall guy - Skizz - who answered.

"It's a nickname, dude!"

"Oh." Tango had never had a nickname before. He had only the vaguest knowledge of how they worked. He knew 'Doc' was only a nickname, but that was the extent of his experience with them. He always thought a nickname had to mean something, but 'Tango Top' didn't make any sense at all, as far as he could figure.

Skizz and the centaur were each holding a plate towered high with some sort of flat bread-looking thing.

Unbothered by Tango's lackluster response, Skizz said to the centaur, "Let's get these on the table, Gemmy."

"Yep!" Together, they crossed to a large table on the other side of the room. Tango counted eight chairs of various heights and shapes around it.

And, hearing her voice a second time, he realised with a jolt why she seemed familiar.

"Gemmy?" he said, before he realised he was speaking.

She looked up, then giggled a little. "Just Gem. Gemini, technically, but everyone calls me Gem. Gemmy is another Skizz-ism."

Another nickname. This one, at least, made sense. "Gem, then. You brought me here?"

"Yes." She seemed apprehensive, like he might be upset with her for some reason.

"Thank you," he said, and meant it. The thought of lying unconscious out in the open for even a second terrified him.

"Don't thank me yet." She giggled again, nervously this time. "It was my idea to put out your fire."

"You were trying to help. You didn't know."

Relief dragged her shoulders down, and Tango was glad. He hated people worrying over him.

While Skizz and Gemmy finished setting up at the table, Impulse asked him, "Do you know what medicines work for you? Human or otherwise."

Tango shrugged and admitted, "I've never been sick before." He shook his head to clear it, and immediately regretted it when it made the world spin. His claws dug into the tiles behind him to hold him steady. "But I'm not sick. It's just allergies. I'm fine."

Impulse and Skizz shared a look, and he could tell they didn't believe him.

But, instead of pushing it, Skizz asked, "Think you can eat?" as he came over to him.

Tango didn't know what those things at the table were, but they smelled like heaven and he was starving. He thought he could probably devour both plates by himself. Swallowing would hurt, but it would be worth it to fill his stomach.

He nodded, and Skizz held out his hand to pull him to his feet. Tango hesitated, eyeing that hand, then instead braced a hand on the sofa to heave himself to his feet. Immediately, he swayed, nearly losing his balance entirely.

"Woah, dude!" Skizz caught Tango's arm, holding him up so he didn't collapse. "Take a minute to breathe."

"I'm fine," Tango insisted yet again, flinching out of Skizz's grip and leaning against the sofa for balance.

"You keep saying that," Impulse pointed out.

"Because it's true."

Skizz protested, "You nearly just splatted!"

"Nearly knocked me off in the process," Torchy grumbled.

Zedaph, who had gotten shaken from his perch, was now hovering above Skizz's shoulder. "You, my friend, are a long way from fine."

"I'm just hungry." He'd be back to normal once he ate a bit, he was sure.

He braced himself, then pushed off the sofa. He managed to make it all the way to the table without stumbling and fell heavily into the nearest chair.

A pause, and then the others came to sit down as well. Gem and Impulse both had special chairs: Impulse's was taller to allow him to reach the table, and Gem's was little more than a cushioned platform on the floor. Skizz sat on a normal chair like Tango's, and Zedaph simply sat on the table.

Tango watched as the others started adding the flat round things to their plates. Uncertainly, he copied their motions. Then it started getting difficult.

Skizz started adding so much sugar to his plate that Tango thought it should probably be outlawed, Impulse spread some kind of thick, dark brown substance over his, and Gem was pouring an almost-clear liquid over hers. He glanced at Zedaph, hoping to find some sort of hint as to which was the right thing to do, and instead found him somehow shoving an entire circle into his tiny mouth at once.

Immediately distracted, Tango watched as the faerie swallowed, barely chewing. For a second, he seemed significantly larger than normal, before he returned to his normal size and fell backwards on the table, arms spread wide, panting.

"How do you like you pancakes, Tango?" Impulse asked, pulling his from the horror of Zed's eating.

Tango looked up. "What?"

"Can I pass you anything?" Impulse gestured at the collection of jars and bottles and bowls in the middle of the table.

"Um." He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what most of the choices were, let alone which he wanted on his... pancakes, had Impulse called them?

"Have you never had pancakes before?" There was a teasing giggle in Gem's voice, like she thought he was joking.

Tango's flames grew stronger as heat rushed to his face. "No," he admitted.

Immediately, Gem's grin fell, replaced by shock. "Oh."

The three of them shared a glance, then Skizz pushed the bottle Gem had used towards him. "Here, you feel like a lemon sort of guy."

Tango accepted the bottle and, remembering how Gem had only shaken a little bit onto her pancake, he started carefully pouring. When he was satisfied, he folded it carefully, the same way they had. He did his best to ignore the way they were all watching him as he lifted the pancake and took a tentative bite from the corner.

The instant it was in his mouth, Tango forgot to be embarrassed. The pancake was the best thing he had ever tasted. Fresh and warm and real - he would be surprised if there was a single artificial ingredient inside. The lemon he added brought a touch of sourness into the mix, allowing for a wonderful burst of flavour. It was the polar opposite of the weird, nutritious mush he normal ate.

His next bite was bigger, and the one after that even bigger. In seconds, the entire pancake was gone. He sat back with a sigh, unable to stop his grin.

"Good, right?" Skizz was beaming. "That's the Gemmy touch!"

Gem chuckled, pleased. "Wait till you taste Impulse's soup. Unbeatable."

"It's not that good," Impulse shrugged, flushing and waving the compliment away.

"No, don't do that," Skizz scolded. "It's amazing, dude!"

"Want another?" Gem offered Tango one of the plates.

Tango blinked. "I can have more?" This, too, was a foreign concept to him.

"Of course!"

Tango grabbed a second pancake, and Impulse passed his spread over.

"Try some chocolate spread, see what you think."

So Tango spread it on, folded it and tasted. Somehow, impossibly, it was even better than the lemon pancake. Sweet and a little sticky, thick in his mouth, coating his sharp teeth and tongue with the deliciousness.

"Oh, wow," Tango couldn't help but exclaim, before he devoured the whole thing even faster than the first.

Impulse chuckled, giving Skizz a look. Skizz huffed playfully, grinning. Tango wasn't sure what had just happened between them, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he happily licked chocolate spread from the hidden corners inside his mouth.

"Where are you from, Top?" Skizz asked.

Tango hesitated, unsure how much he was allowed to say. No one had explicitly told him not to tell people about the lab, but he'd heard Doc complain about how frustrating it was to not be able to tell his husband about his work. He knew it was meant to be a secret.

"The city," he said eventually.

"The city?" Gem gasped. "Homios?"

Tango shrugged. He didn't know what it was called. "The one with the palace."

"You lived in Homios?!" Impulse looked simultaneously impressed and afraid. "And you weren't killed by the humans?"

"Killed?" The humans wouldn't do that: they'd taken care of him, raised him. Void, they'd made him! Why would they want to kill him?

"The king hates Vis," Skizz explained. His eyes were far away, not seeing the room. "Those he doesn't try to kill, he captures or sells."

Impulse put a hand on Skizz's shoulder.

He thought of Cub's words. "All Vis being held against their will." Had he been held against his will? How many others were there? Were they experiments, like him? Had they been made in the lab, or captured, like Skizz said?

"There's a reason we stay away from that place," Impulse said, reaching to his other side to take Gem's hand.

His eyes settled on them, the small, mismatched family. Skizz, his hand resting on Impulse's, still on Skizz shoulder, his eyes still a million miles away. Impulse, looking between Gem and Skizz, determination mixing in with the fear still tinging his features. Gem, holding gently onto Impulse's fingers, warmth in her eyes, as she watched Skizz and Impulse carefully.

He'd never had this, he realised. It was clear Skizz cared for btoh Gem and Impulse. When Impulse smiled over at Gem, Tango could practically see the warmth radiating from in his gaze. Gem was watching the two males like she'd doing anything to remove the pain they both wore like a badge of honour, and when Skizz finally returned to the here and now and grinned at them, it was with an affection so deep Tango didn't have a word for it in English. He knew it in Dragon, though, because Torchy had said it to him once, a couple dozen years ago when he'd nearly died from an experiment gone too far.

He knew Doc and Cub cared for him, knew they tried to keep him happy and relatively safe, but he also knew it was largely because of how valuable he was to them. Doc had a kid of his own, he knew, and Cub could never stay put long enough to commit to anything; he was constantly going off travelling for days or weeks at a time, finding new things or races. They had their own lives, and Tango wasn't a part of them.

But he saw these people, sharing looks and touches like they were nothing, and it was so clear how intertwined their lives were. They needed each other, not in the way Tango needed the scientists to bring him food and water, but in the way Doc had talked about his daughter needing him at home.

Something hurt in his chest, and he swallowed it down, tilting his head to lean it against Torchy's. He was all Tango needed. He was all he'd ever needed, and there was no reason for that to change now.

The lingering taste of the pancakes had turned bitter.

Tango sighed and pushed to his feet, drawing all their attention back to him. The sudden movement brought his headache back full force, but he managed not to wince.

"I should get going."

Skizz was on his feet in an instant, hurrying to Tango's side to catch his arm in case he collapsed again. Again, Tango pulled away from his touch, pressing a bracing hand on the table instead.

"What's up, buddy?" Skizz asked.

Impulse didn't stand - he was taller on his stool. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," Tango said, starting to feel a bit like a broken record (he'd heard that from Doc, and had no idea what it was referring to). "I just- I should get out of your way, and I need to keep moving anyway. I need to get to the Subsol Woods."

"The Subsol Woods?" Gem got to her feet somewhat gracelessly. "What do you need there?"

Tango wasn't sure the answer to that. A home? A next step? Some sort of purpose? A family, like the one they'd built here? He didn't know.

When he didn't answer, Impulse offered, "Okay, well, how about this. You stay until you're healthy again-"

"That means," Skizz interrupted, "you can walk in a straight line without help, you stop flinching when you move your head, and you don't like like you're about to be sick after standing for a few seconds." He finished with a pointed look at Tango, who was indeed feeling very shaky.

"Right," Impulse agreed. "You stay here until then, then we'll take you to the Subsol Woods. It's been a while since we've visited, anyway, it'll be good to see Cleo and Grian again."

"And all the others, of course," Gem teased.

"Of course." Impulse shrugged nonchalantly, not taking whatever bait Gem had just thrown. "And you can see Pearl."

Gem took on exactly the same casual indifference that felt fake somehow, mimicking Impulse's shrug. "Of course."

"Perfect!" Skizz turned his bright grin on Tango. "Is that a deal?"

Tango simply stared at him for a second, then sighed. "Fine. Deal."

Skizz whooped, and Gem and Impulse laughed at him, and Tango flinched at the noise. Still, he couldn't help smiling a little.

A much larger part of him than he'd ever admit hoped he healed very, very slowly.

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[post-apocalyptic-fantasy-au]

Rb'ing this here on purpose because my Torchy would say this xD

I made that one Rancher biologically accurate fanchild thing into an actual skin.

[post-apocalyptic-fantasy-au]

2.5

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Skizz and Impulse immediately jumped into mother hen mode as soon as she rode in with the burning, unconcious stranger on her back, of course. Skizz being Skizz took charge, ordering Impulse - the strongest of them - to lift him off Gem's chestnut back and lay him down on the sofa, but the pygmy dragon swooped underneath, stopping them, hissing and spitting.

"He says his hair is actual fire," Impulse translated, pulling the creature back towards him, leaning his head away.

Skizz thought quick, his bright blue eyes taking in the room and its options. "Gemmy Bemmy, get a blanket and put it on the ground."

The tiles would crack, but they wouldn't burn. Gem hurried to do as she was told, crouching down onto her forelegs to lay out the softest blanket they had.

Impulse lowered the creature down onto it as Skizz gave Gem her next order: "Go make an icepack."

She practically cantered to the kitchen, hurrying to fill a plastic bag they kept for just this purpose with ice. She'd seen both her dads do this so many times when their old wounds flared up that she could do it in her sleep.

When she brought it back, she could hear Impulse ask the faerie who'd fetched her, "Do you know what he is?" Impulse's thick brown hair, usually quite neat, was sticking out in a way that suggested he'd wiped sweat from his forehead.

"He said he's a Tango!" the small male said. He was zipping around, fretting something awful.

The dragon, curled up on the mystery creature's chest, growled something.

"Tango's his name," Impulse repeated in English for those in the room who couldn't understand every language in the world. "He's half pygmy dragon, half human, apparently." The dragon added something else, and Impulse translated uncertainly, "He calls himself a... Tek?"

Skizz paused, the ice pack half in his grip, half in Gem's. "A human and a pygmy dragon? How does that work?"

"Skizz!" Gem scolded.

"Right, right, sorry!" He grabbed the ice pack and pressed it against Tango's burning forehead. It hissed.

Skizz frowned at the steam rising from the bag. "Dippledop, will you check Gem's back? It might be burned."

"I'm fine!" Gem protested, taking a step back, but Impulse came over anyway.

"We just need to check," he told her, and Gem rolled her eyes.

He ran a hand over her glossy back, checking for any scarring her coat might hide. She huffed, but held still. It would be so annoying if she had burned herself, after all.

After a few moments, Impulse gave the all clear. She was fine.

Skizz let out a sigh of relief. "Oh good." Finally, he turned to the faerie. "What's your name?"

"Zed. Zedaph. The dragon is Torchy."

Skizz nodded. "I'm Skizz. My buddy over there is Impulse, and the beautiful centaur is Gem."

"Is he gonna be okay?" Gem asked, flicking her tail nervously.

"I don't know a thing about dragons." Impulse glanced at Skizz, who shook his head.

"I don't know that he's human enough for my knowledge of them to help."

As a half-human himself, Gem had hoped Skizz would know what to do, maybe at least figure out what human remedies would work on Tango. He'd always been good at knowing what she needed, after all.

Gem sighed. "So we're flying blind."

"Not entirely." Zedaph flew up to Impulse, hovering in front of his face. Gem decided she liked his voice. It was slow, with a laugh braided into every word, even as he was clearly panicking. "You can understand Torchy, right?"

"Right."

Torchy said something in whatever dragon language he spoke.

"Oh great! Torchy said he doesn't know enough about Tango to help. Even he doesn't know how much of Tango is human and how much is dragon."

"Oh good!"

Skizz and Impulse had a way of turning sarcastic and hysterical when things went wrong. Things were definitely going wrong now.

Gem sighed. She had to be the voice of reason. "So, we work with what we know, and make up what we don't."

She wished Pearl was here. Pearl would know what to do. At the very least, she'd be able to lift the spirits in the room. Usually that was Skizz's job, but he was just as stressed as the rest of them. She knew Impulse wished Grian were here for the same reason.

Honestly, all four of the siblings would have been welcome. Jimmy was guaranteed to do something silly that would get Skizz to grin and join in, and Lizzie was so good at keeping a level head that Gem was sure nothing would shake her.

But then she thought better of it. Joel wouldn't stay behind if Lizzie and Jimmy were here, and if Grian came, Scar would be close behind, and with Scar would come Bdubs. And if Bdubs joined the party, Etho would be sure to hear of it and he could never stay away from such a large gathering, and Cleo wouldn't allow Etho to be here with both of her boys without supervision, and then Cleo and Pearl would be at loggerheads the entire time, not to mention the weird tension between Impulse and Bdubs, and it would just be chaos. Besides, if Pearl came, Scott would probably accompany her, and Gem wasn't sure she'd be able to resist the urge to kick him while she was stressed.

Maybe it was better to just keep it to the five of them - six if they included the very unconscious creature lying on the floor at her feet.

"What happened to him?" Skizz asked, pulling Gem from her thoughts.

"He was sick - sneezing and coughing and stuff - so I got him some medicine I stole from the humans for sneezing and coughing, and then like half an hour later, BOOM, he started burning up and collapsing!" And still, even with his voice laced with panic, Zedaph seemed to be on the verge of laughter. Gem wondered if that was just how he sounded or if he, like her dads, was hysterical.

"Gemmy, go open a window," Skizz ordered softly, and Gem hurried to obey, grateful for something to do.

She didn't just open a window, she opened every window, throwing the wooden blinds wide to let in the fresh air. Then she opened the door as well. It was wide and tall, adjusted repeatedly as she grew to be able to fit her in, so plenty of air was able to flow in.

Then she eyed Tango, especially that fiery hair.

Slowly, uncertainly, she said, "We need him to cool down, right?"

"Right," Skizz said. He was still kneeling beside Tango, still holding the long-melted icepack to his forehead like it might do something.

Impulse looked up at her. He was still standing, but he was so much shorter than Gem that unless she was sitting or lying down, he had to look up at her anyway. "Do you have something in mind?"

"If we put him out..."

"Put him-" Skizz looked up at Impulse. He was about a million years old, and at least ten times older than Impulse, but sometimes it was like he knew half as much as Impulse about anything. "Could that work?"

"I have no idea." Impulse shrugged and glanced at Zedaph.

"Don't look at me!" Zedaph threw up his tiny arms. "I've barely known him longer than you!"

They all turned to Torchy and Impulse asked, "Could it?"

Torchy lifted his head, looked between all of them, then at Tango. He let out a small puff of smoke, and Gem thought it looked like a sigh. He huffed.

"I guess it's worth a try," Impulse murmured.

Carefully, Skizz opened the top of the bag and slowly poured it over Tango's head, keeping one hand upright on his forehead to prevent any of it flowing over his face.

The hiss of steam filled the room, and Gem flinched back, raising her arms to protect her face. The fire on Tango's head died, and almost immediately, he started to scream. It was the tortured, agonised sound of someone in indescribable pain.

The panic in the room went up about sixteen notches as Tango started to thrash, back arching, limbs flailing wildly. A desperate attempt at speech, pleas maybe, managed to make it through the screams, but there were no decipherable words among the babbling.

Impulse had frozen up, Skizz was shaking so bad Gem worried he'd shift right there in their living room, Zedaph was way too tiny to do anything, and Torchy was flying in circles and panicking. She was on her own here.

She dropped to the ground beside Tango, folding up her legs beneath her body, and reached out to try and secure him, worried he'd hurt himself. Before she could reach him, however, his flailing hand connected with her face. She reared back, staggering gracelessly to her feet and just barely managed to keep the horse instinct to kick him in the face at bay.

That was when Torchy decided to actually be helpful, swooping down to land on the floor above Tango's head. He started puffing fire at his wet scalp, boiling away the water little by little. Tango stilled slightly, letting out a moan of relief among the quieting screams.

It was too slow: Torchy was only little, his fire not that warm, and Gem knew pygmy dragons didn't have that much fire in them anyway. It wasn't long before the steady stream became a series of thin, splotchy bursts. But Torchy refused to give up. He kept breathing fire over Tango's head as the hybrid slowly calmed, his screams fading away to nothing. Only once all the water was gone and Tango's own flames starting flicking back to life, feeble at first but growing quickly in strength and number, that he finally stopped twitching and stilled.

Finally, Torchy collapsed, all out of fire and out of energy. He curled up among Tango's flames, and Tango raised a weak, trembling hand to up to him, laying it on the dragon back. He didn't move again from that position.

Shaken, Gem looked around at the rest of the room.

Now that the screaming had stopped, Imp and Skizz were coming back from whatever haze of memories they'd been lost in. She didn't know much about their past, about how they'd come to be together, but she knew it was bad, because she often found them wide awake and holding each other in the middle of the night, and sometimes when they were in pain they started crying and panicking. Now, they were just staring, wide eyed, at Tango on the floor, at Gem and the red mark blossoming on her cheek.

Zedaph had taken up Torchy's place in flying stressed circles around the room, buzzing and twittering in the language which was most garden faeries' only means of communication.

Shakily, she said to the rest of the room, "Okay, so not that. Any other ideas?"

A brief moment of silence, then Skizz started giggling hysterically as Impulse ran to Gem's side, jumping up to grab her arms so he could pull her down and inspect her face.

"OhmygoshGemareyouokay?!" he gasped.

"I'm fine, Impulse," she assured him, shaking him off and straightening.

Skizz managed to get ahold of himself, stepping forward to eye up Tango. "Is it just me, or does this guy look better? No, I think it's- no, yes! Yeah, he definitely looks better!"

Gem inched warily closer, not eager for another accidental slap, and saw that, indeed, Tango did have a little more colour in his face, his skin looking closer to gold than the washed out yellow-beige-ish colour it had before.

She took her first real good look at Tango. He was short, almost as short as Impulse, but unlike Impulse, he was built like a stick bug, all thin limbs and knobbly joins and narrow shoulders. Under the tight yellow shirt he wore, Gem could see scales covering the lower part of his neck and clearly continuing beneath the shirt. He slept with his mouth open slightly and his jaw clenched, revealing sharp teeth, and his hands ended in sharp claws rather than nails. She could certainly see the dragon descent in him, even if she couldn't quite figure out how it had come about.

She decided not to dwell on it.

"What do we do now?" she asked instead.

Impulse, still trying to fuss over her, glanced down at Tango. "I guess now we wait. Try to keep him cool... without getting him wet, probably."

A rush of guilt his Gem. It had been her idea to try that, after all. She swallowed. "Will he... do you think he's...?"

"He'll be fine, Gemmy," Skizz assured her gently. "You couldn't have known."

She pursed her lips. She wasn't as prone to guilt spirals as Grian, for example, but she felt bad. He'd sounded seriously hurt.

"He's already doing better," Impulse pointed out. "Looks like that was the shock his body needed to fight whatever it is that's making him sick. I'd say you did him a favour!" Then he grimaced. "Even if it was an... uncomfortable one."

Gem barked out a laugh, then clapped her hands over her mouth to contain the sound. "Uncomfortable?"

"Less than fortunate," Impulse confirmed.

"You sound like Grian," she pointed out, and Skizz chuckled.

"More like Mumbo."

"Whatever." Impulse rolled his eyes. "My point still stands. You shouldn't lose sleep over this. You were just trying to help."

"I guess." She smiled down at her dads, who grinned back up at her. "Thanks."

"I'll watch him," Skizz offered. "You guys go get some sleep."

Impulse glanced up at Zedaph, who was hovering uncertainly above them now that the worst stress was over. "Do you... need a bed?" he offered, clearly unsure how or even if garden faeries slept.

"You know what, I'll just crash down here, if that's alright," Zedaph answered, lowering himself onto the armrest of the sofa. "But thanks for the offer."

"Of course. Let Skizz know if you need anything."

"Will do. Thank you, fellas."

Impulse trudged up the stairs to the bedroom he shared with Skizz while Gem crossed to the door to her room - she struggled with stairs sometimes, especially when she was tired.

She couldn't shake the feeling, as she sank down against her cushioned recliner, that something had just changed in her world.

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(Massive shoutout to Mel @mellioops for giving me suggestions for Gem's horse half! The recliner comes from this post from @/theartingace)

[post-apocalyptic-fantasy-au]

Skizz

Name: Skizz Tay

Species: Human-born mermaid

Appearance:  Eyes- Bright blue

Family:  Best friend- Impulse Daughter (adopted)- Gem

[post-apocalyptic-fantasy-au]

Impulse

Name: [redacted]

Nickname: Impulse, Dippledop

Species: Dwarf

Appearance:  Hair- brown and thick, but kept short

Abilities: polyglot

Family:  Best friend- Skizz Daughter (adopted)- Gem

[post-apocalyptic-fantasy-au]

Gem

Name: Gemini Tay

Nickname: Gem, Gemmy Bemmy

Species: Centaur (Haflinger)

Appearance:  Hair- on her body: chestnut

Family:  Father (adopted)- Impulse Father (adopted)- Skizz

[post-apocalyptic-fantasy-au]

Zedaph

Name: Zedaph

Nickname: Zed

Species: Garden Faerie

Appearance:  Eyes- Pink Hair- Pink Height- 3.5" Other markings- Iridescent wings

[post-apocalyptic-fantasy-au]

Sneak peek into the distant future. Period cramps projection beam at Jimmy Solidarity (only because I was so mean to Tango last time lol)

[post-apocalyptic-fantasy-au]

For those of you who were interested in the discord, here's the invite link: https://discord.gg/uSGwvmbUep

For those of you who said you wanted to join later, I've added it to the pinned post for ease of access!

[post-apocalyptic-fantasy-au]

3

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(Prefacing this with a bit of a content warning: it gets a bit dark. This is a bit of an insight into Tango's life at the lab, and the sorts of experiments they did when he was younger, but Cub and Doc are big softies and try to take care of him through it all. Proceed at your own discretion.)

In the dream, he was a kid again, back in the lab, scientists of all descriptions surrounding him. His limbs were strapped down, just in case, and there were about six syringes filled with various anesthetics, just in case, but this was going to be quick and easy and painless, nothing would go wrong, they promised.

Cub was finishing setting up what felt like dozens of machines hooked up to Tango, monitoring his vitals, his brain activity, any shift in his eyes, every twitch in his body. Anything that had even the slightest chance of changing, Cub wanted to track it.

Cub looked different in the dream. Much, much younger, and much, much more human. In fact, the only suggestion that he wasn't fully human was the row of sharp teeth behind his lips, and Tango could only spot them occasionally, and even then only because he knew they were there.

Even though this had nothing to do with him, Doc was standing against a wall, watching the proceedings with cool curiosity. Tango had asked him if he didn't have anywhere else to be, hating the amount of eyes already fixed on him, and Doc had merely shrugged and declared they'd "survive without me".

Doc looked different too, though less notably. His prosthetics were clunkier, with less fancy bells and whistles, and he didn't yet need a hat to hide his horns, only his fluffy hair.

"We'll start small," Cub said, finally finishing up and moving to stand beside Tango's head. He held a pipette in his hand, filled with water. "Just a few drops. Then we'll go from there."

Tango braced himself. He wanted to close his eyes, but that would make nullify an entire system that Cub so carefully set up. Instead, he curled his hands into fists and clenched his jaw. He couldn't hide his racing heart, not with the constant beep-beep-beep betraying his nerves, so he didn't bother trying.

"Three. Two. One." Cub squeezed the pipette, letting a single drop fall from the end onto Tango's head.

His flames boiled the drop before it even touched him, sending it flying upwards in a tiny cloud of steam.

Pens scribbled on paper all around.

Cub had realised very early that Tango didn't have nearly as much water in him as a human, and had been building up to testing him with it ever since. Now, Tango was barely sixteen, a teenager, a kid even by human standards. By dragon standards, he was still practically a hatchling (although, with a human mother, he hadn't actually hatched out of anything, so he was unsure about the terminology there). He was trying his best to calm his fear, but so young, it was nearly impossible. All he could do was brace himself and wait.

"Increasing volume," Cub said, putting down the pipette and pulling out a measuring cylinder instead. "Ten milliliters. Three. Two. One."

Again, much of the water evaporated in time, but a few drops landed on Tango's head. Sizzling filled the room as Tango sucked in a breath. It didn't hurt... much. It was like a bug bite. In just a second, the pain was over, the last of the water boiling away and the flames that had been put out rushing back to life.

More writing.

"Does it hurt?" Cub asked.

"No." It didn't, not anymore. It had, for a second, but it was fine now.

"Ready to move on?"

Tango nodded. "Yes."

He could handle the small pain. It wasn't much, nowhere near the worst pain he'd already experienced in his short lifetime. He could handle it.

"Increasing volume." Cub retrieved another measuring cylinder. "Twenty-five milliliters. Three. Two. One."

The water was poured. Most of it landed on his head this time. He gasped. This pain was a little more than before, closer to a wasp sting. It took a lot longer for the water to go away so his flames could return, leaving his scalp exposed for longer and making the pain last longer. Before long, though, the pain faded and he was fine again.

"Tango?" It took him a second to register Cub was speaking. He looked up at the scientist.

"I'm okay," Tango insisted. "Keep going."

"Do you need a second?"

"No. I'm fine."

"Alright." Cub sounded doubtful, and Tango heard Doc's scoff from the other side of the room, but they pushed on as requested. "Increasing volume. Fifty milliliters. Three. Two. One."

Like before, the pain was exponentially worse. Tango just barely managed to turn his yelp into a groan. He knew how important this research was, not only to Cub, but to Tango himself, as well. He needed to know how much water was too much. This certainly was not too much. He could handle it.

Of course, none of these thoughts were coherent in the moment, presenting themselves more as concepts than tangible thoughts. The pain was far too bad for Tango to produce anything even halfway intelligible.

When the dimness in Tango's vision finally faded, he met Cub's gaze and nodded. He was fine.

"Increasing volume. One hundred milliliters." Cub sounded rushed now, like he wanted to get it over with. Though he'd never admit it, Tango was grateful. "Three. Two. One."

Tango did shout that time, a combination of nonsense syllables that felt less pathetic than an actual scream but still gave him an outlet for the pain. It was awful. This was what he imagined burning felt like, though it was in fact exactly the opposite. When Tango's flames were put out, he felt the same thing other people would feel if they were lit on fire. His vision blacked out entirely, all his senses but the ability to feel abandoning him, leaving him consumed by the pain with nothing to distract him. He panted, waiting for the pain to pass, waiting for the world to return.

It felt like hours ran past him before he could see Cub's round, concerned face hovering over him. It immediately flooded with relief.

"Thought we lost you there for a second, man," Cub told him.

Tango tried to speak, but his voice caught in his throat. He swallowed and tried again. "I- I'm fine."

"That's enough," Doc said.

Tango turned his head as much as he could manage to find the male no longer standing against the wall looking barely interested. Now, he was just beyond the wall of machines and scientist, both hands curled into fists, bionic eye flashing slightly, like it did when one of his contraptions blew up.

"No," Tango grit out. "No, I'm fine."

"Tango-"

"I'm fine."

Doc and Cub shared a look. It wasn't a look Tango was familiar with, but he would very quickly come to recognise it as the "Tango's being a stubborn idiot" look.

"One more," Cub conceded uncertainly.

"Finish it." Tango wasn't planning to say it. He didn't want it - void, he really didn't want it - but it was important data, and he'd be damned if he had to go through all this again to get it later.

Cub signaled to one of the interns holding a syringe of anesthetic, but Tango pulled his arm away.

"No! No, that defeats the purpose! You need organic data. That'll mess it up."

"Tango, there is no way we're doing this with you in this state," Cub protested.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not." That was Doc. "You are not fine, Tango. Cub is right."

Tango scowled between the two of them. "If we're going to do this, we may as well do it properly."

That was when he noticed what Cub was holding. It looked like a small glass bucket, filled with water. He braced himself and, before either Cub or Doc could protest again, leant forwards as far as he could with his limbs strapped to the chair he was sitting in with as much force and speed as he could muster. He didn't reach Cub and he bucket, didn't even come close, but he managed to startle Cub so much that the bucket was dropped anyway.

The pain was worse than anything else he'd ever experienced. It completely took everything over, taking away even his self control. He screamed properly this time, but he couldn't hear it. He thrashed in the bonds, but he couldn't feel it. The machines around him were going haywire, but he couldn't see them. It was everything, everywhere, and it wasn't stopping, it wasn't stopping, he just wanted it to stop, someone MAKE IT STOP!

It was agony, pure agony, that flooded his veins and tore his nerves to shreds, so bad that he felt like it was killing him. Some part of him, far larger than he would ever, ever admit, wished it would hurry up and kill him faster, just so the pain would stop, stop, stop, stop!

And then he woke up.

But the pain went on. He screamed and thrashed, and his limbs weren't being held down by thick metal rings, and there weren't innumerable wires poking out of him. There were people around him, and not a scientist among them.

And still the pain persisted, never stopping, never resting, never giving him a moment to breathe. The part of him that could still think thought he might have been begging, but he wasn't sure.

Still, the pain refused to calm. He vaguely registered the back of his hand hitting something - someone - but it was secondary, tertiary even, to the pain, the pain, the awful overarching pain.

And the pain just kept on slicing through his bod-

It dimmed.

Heat was brushing his scalp. He couldn't hold back a moan of relief, leaning back into it, as, little by little, the warmth chased away the pain. It wasn't until it passed from "unbearable" to "not quite tolerable" that he was able to recognise what was causing it: Torchy, puffing every bit of fire in his tiny body at Tango's head.

Far too many minutes later, the pain was gone entirely. Slowly, as part of his head dried off, the fire returned to life in those spots, eliminating the pain entirely, until finally his whole head was ablaze again. Tango sighed, his entire body sagging into the floor he was lying on.

He raised a shaking hand over his head, found Torchy curled up among the flames, completely spent, and lay his hand onto the dragon's scales.

A voice said, "Okay, so not that. Any other ideas?"

Unconsciousness once again claimed his exhausted body.

[previous] [next] [first]

[post-apocalyptic-fantasy-au]

Just an interest check: if I were to make a discord for the AU, both to talk about the AU itself (plans, process, ideas, art, etc) and to just connect and chat with new people, how many of y'all would be interested?

[post-apocalyptic-fantasy-au]

2

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Tango started sneezing about twenty minutes after leaving the lab. By the time they reached the city's outskirts, six hours later, he was a sniffling mess, eyes burning and nose running, throat tight. Every part of his skin not covered in scales was covered in rashes. On top of that, his legs felt like jelly, there was a sharp pain tearing his sides open, every step hurt his feet and his lungs felt like they were on fire.

"Maybe we should stop for a bit," Torchy suggested, concerned. The little dragon was flying around Tango's head since his touch irritated Tango's skin even more.

"We should... get somewhere less... open... first." Tango was gasping, every breath a struggle.

But he refused to stop. It was just allergies and a lack of exercise, it would all calm down once his body got used to being outside the lab's sterile walls. The best thing to do was to keep pushing, keep, walking, force his body to adapt. He would survive allergies, he would survive being unfit. He wasn't sure he would survive what wandered around out here, beyond the city limits, where laws barely applied and civilisation ended.

Sometimes, when the scientists in the lab worked late, they'd come into Tango's room at night and he'd light a little fire in the middle and they'd sit around telling scary stories. He was told it was a human tradition older than time. Far too often, those stories included werewolves who refused to abide by the palace's laws, vampires who were so consumed by their bloodlust they'd lost all their humanity, human-born sirens who had forsaken community in favour of luring travellers away from their paths.

Cub had once sworn up and down that a garden faerie had tried to gouge out his eyes, killing every plant in a ten-foot radius in the process, and to this day he still didn't know how he'd escaped intact.

Doc had then scoffed and claimed it was all hearsay, but the tale had stuck with Tango. He was rather fond of his eyes, and preferred not to risk losing them.

"I can keep going," he said to Torchy. "I can... I'll be fine."

They had barely walked another hour before Tango was forced to stop by his feet - which were dragging on the floor - hooking on a rock, sending him plummetting with a yelp.

"Tango!" Torchy gasped, swooping down to join him on the ground.

"I'm- I'm fine," Tango assured him, running a hand across Torchy's scales. "I'm fine."

Tango allowed himself twenty seconds of rest - he counted each one - before pushing himself back to his feet.

"Just a little further," he told himself.

He could see a small copse of trees in the distance. If he could just make it that far, he'd be fine. It was close. Just a little further.

When, after a few seconds, it became clear his feet weren't moving any time soon, he sighed and sank into a crouch, absently itching his arm.

"I'm fine," he whispered, staring at the trees, like repeating it will make it true.

He shook his head, shaking that thought out of it. He was fine. This was just a normal bodily reaction, and it would pass. It wasn't like he was dying or anything. He was fine. He just needed a few more seconds to rest. Then he'd be able to command his legs to move again, and he could keep going.

He was fine.

That was when he heard the voice: "Hello! What do we have here?"

Tango leapt to his feet, twisting around and staggering back and falling onto his butt as he yelled, "Hagagah!"

Hovering in front of him was a garden faerie with pink hair and eyes, and a dress made out of a brown leaf that seemed to be clinging to life by the fingertips - leaftips? The creature was a little more than three inches tall, his hair short and messy.

"What're you doing all the way out here?" he asked, flying a little closer to Tango's face.

Tango squeaked. "Please don't steal my eyes!"

"Steal your eyes?" the faerie chuckled. "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know!"

The creature laughed again. "I'm Zedaph. What are you?" He spoke the question slowly, drawing out each word.

"Don't you mean who?" Tango couldn't help but ask.

"Nope!" Zedaph flew a few laps around Tango, faster than he could follow. "I've never seen anything like you before!"

"I'm Tango."

"RIght. Aaand, what's a Tango?"

"Well, me, obviously!"

"Right! Of course, why didn't I think of that?" He was laughing again.

Zedaph's voice was strange, quiet and high-pitched and buzzy, and he spoke English like his mouth wasn't meant to ever have any of these sounds in it. And yet, every single sound came out clear and amost easy. Sure, he spoke slowly, drawing out most of his words, but he never faltered and stuttered, only paused and hesitated now and then.

"And this is-" Tango paused to sneeze. "-Torchy."

Torchy landed on Tango's head, peering at Zedaph through the flames. Zedaph grinnged at the little dragon.

"Very nice to meet ya, Torchy!"

"Of course it is," Torchy muttered, getting comfortable on his perch.

Zedaph's grin faded and his tiny features twisted into a frown as he looked at Tango.

"Hey, you don't look too good," he noted.

"I'm fine," Tango insisted again. Then immediately was wracked by a sneezing and coughing fit, barely managing to find time in between to breathe. When he emerged, his throat hurt more than ever, his eyes itched like they were full of powder and his chest burned. He leaned over his knees, which were pressed against his chest, and panted for breath.

"Yes, I can see that." Even when he was concerned, his voice seemed to carry a laugh, like he couldn't help but find a joke in every detail. "Hey, I think I know something that could help!"

And, before Tango could say a word, the little faerie flew off.

"Well, that was... weird," Tango said to Torchy, who merely grumbled. He'd been thrown off Tango's head during the coughing fit, and was instead curling up on the rock that had sent Tango crashing to the ground minutes ago. Tango poked him. "Don't get too - ACHOO - comfortable. We need to get moving again. Just cause this faerie didn't steal our eyes, doesn't mean the next one won't."

"He's fetching something!" Torchy protested, like he was settling down for any reason that wasn't bedtime. "We should wait for him!"

"He's probably fetching a swarm to pick us apart piece by piece. We can't just hang around here." He glanced up at the trees. They just had to make it to there.

"Just a little further," Tango pleaded.

"Give me ten minutes," Torchy insisted. Seconds later, he was fast asleep.

"Oh you-" Tango reached out to grab the dragon by his tail to shake him awake, but was interrupted by Zedaph's voice.

"Here we are!"

Tango looked up to see the faerie flying over, his wings struggling to lift both his own body weight, and the small glass vial he was clinging to.

The vial was a good inch taller than Zedaph, and filled with a dark purple liquid. Tango didn't know where he'd gotten it, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"What's this?" he asked instead, holding out a hand to let Zedaph drop the vial and land, giving his poor wings a rest.

"Medicine!" Zedaph looked proud of himself. "It should fix you right up!"

Tango frowned, looking at the liquid sceptically. "You want me to... drink it."

"No, I want you to pour it on your toes. Yes, I want you to drink it!"

Tango sighed, lifting the vial with his other hand so that Zedaph could stay where he was. He sniffed the medicine. It smelled... bad. Fake. Human.

He sighed. What did he have to lose, at this point? After only a second's hesitation, he downed the whole thing in one gulp, trying to get it out of his mouth as quickly as possible. Zedaph flew off his hand as his entire body jerked involuntarily at the taste of the stuff.

It tasted, somehow, even worse than it smelled. Like every piece of artificial food he'd been given over the centuries rolled into one disgusting mixture. Tango shuddered and hurried to pull a flask of water from his bag to wash away the taste, first rinsing his mouth and spitting out the water, than swallowing to clear his throat, as well.

"It's not that bad!" Zedaph protested in that strange, laughing voice of his.

"It definitely is that bad." Tango coughed. He didn't feel remotely different, better or otherwise. If anything, the swallowing had made his sore throat worse. "And it didn't even work!"

"Well, give it time!"

Tango huffed and started trying to get up again, but Zedaph flew right into his face.

"No, no, stay down until it kicks in!"

"I need to keep moving."

"We can keep moving in about twenty minutes. You might fall again if you get up now."

"I'll be fine."

"Tango."

Tango sighed. Closed his eyes. Took a deep breath that was sliced to pieces by another coughing fit. Wiped his runny nose. And leaned back onto his elbows.

Zedaph stayed with him, chatting away about something Tango paid no mind to. He was too busy trying to breath without coughing his guts up to listen to a word that was said.

Until finally, slowly, the pain lessened. His throat opened up entirely, all pain vanishing, and his nose dried up and stopped running. When he breathed, it was without the constant scratching he'd been dealing with all day, and he didn't even nearly cough.

Tango let out a jubilant, incredulous laugh. It had worked! It had really worked!

"That sounds promising." Zedaph flew back up to his face. "Feeling better?"

"Loads. How did you do that?"

"Secrets of the trade, my friend."

When Tango stood up, the only shakiness came from the exhaustion of walking for a full day. When he crouched down to wake Torchy, he didn't nearly collapse at all. Somehow, in twenty minutes, Zedaph had fixed him completely.

The faerie accompanied them when they started moving again, Torchy flapping along sleepily beside Tango's head.

The excitement was short-lived, however, because halfway to the trees, without any change in the weather, Tango was suddenly freezing. With shivering hands, he grabbed the coat that was still draped over the bag and pulled it on. Both Torchy and Zedaph watched him, confused.

Torchy settled on Tango's head, leaning forward so his face was upside down in Tango's vision. "Tango?"

Dragon's weren't built to be cold, and Tango was no exception. He could feel himself weakening by the second.

Zedaph went to land on Tango's hand, but quickly shot back up into the air.

"Holy moly! You're boiling!"

"N- no?" Tango frowned. "I'm freezing! Hence the coat, genius!"

He just had to make it to the trees. He could collapse there, when he wasn't so in the open. Just a little further.

"Maybe you should sit down," Zedaph suggested.

Tango shook his head, then stumbled, losing his balance. The whole world had tipped, leaning wildly to the right for a second.

"Maybe you should listen," Torchy told him, his claws clinging into Tango's scalp to stay on. He was still upside down.

"Just a little further," Tango muttered, his words slurring together. "Juss a lil-"

A figure appeared at the treeline, all the wrong shapes and sizes, built all wrong. It seemed to watch them, though it was impossible to tell properly from so far.

Zedaph spotted the figure at the same time as Tango, announced, "I'll go get help!" then zipped off at top speed towards the figure.

Tango took one step after him, then another, then went careening wildly forwards, just barely catching himself before he splatted. Torchy shrieked as he was flung off Tango's head, flinging out his wings to stay in the air.

Just a little further.

The next step had him falling to his knees. The world was still dancing circles around him, and now its corners were fading away to blackness.

He struggled to get back to his feet, but the best he could do was one foot before falling to the side as the world gave another sickening jolt. He stomach turned, and he leaned over and emptied its meagre contents onto the ground.

He was vaguely aware of someone calling his name, then two someones, as his vision faded completely to black.

The last thing he heard was a feminine voice gasping, "I'm sorey I took so long!"

Then everything stopped.

[previous] [next] [first]

[post-apocalyptic-fantasy-au]

Do we get to see your main story and cast or only the blocky people?

At the moment, only the blocky people. If the main cast have a bigger role later on (bigger than just Becca giving Tango the pouch, I mean), I might post character descriptions just to give a bit more of an idea of what's happening with them, but at the moment I'm planning to keep it with just the blocky people.

I will say, the main story happened before the AU: it's the events that led up to the King being killed and Becca becoming Queen. I might allude to it later on, maybe have the characters talk about their experiences of it, but I don't think I'll have it be hugely part of the AU.

Plans may change though, and I'm a huge believer in "never is a long time", so we will see what the future holds.

[post-apocalyptic-fantasy-au]

1

[next]

Tango's room was... not a cell, exactly. It was comfortable, and he had all the books and trinkets and furniture he wanted. He'd painted the walls himself, in firey sunrise colours to match him, and the carpet was soft enough that his toes sank into it when he walked around. He even had his own seperate bathroom with no cameras in. But the only window was a mirror on his side of the wall, and the door locked from the outside, and cameras near the ceiling monitored his every move, and he was only allowed to leave when one of the many scientists interested in him decided he could.

Still, it was all he knew, and he'd learnt as a kid to make do with a little.

Besides, it's not like the scientists were bad to him, not anymore. After 105 years, he'd become a sort of mascot to the palace labs, and it was taboo among the scientists to mistreat him. The tests, while annoying, never hurt, and for the ones that did they provided him with powerful anaesthetics that made him loopy and completely numb.

The tests themselves varied. They took cells from all over his body for the geneticists and microbiologists. They took samples from his scalp for the chemists trying to figure out how the fire on his head works. They tested how his body reacted to various types of radiation for the radiologists. The list went on and on, even after 105 years, of things they didn't know about him and wanted to find out.

He'd outlived four kings already, and more scientists than he could count, and they were no closer to discovering how much longer he was suspected to live. He still felt as lively as ever, so the general concensus was that he still had quite a while.

He was sitting at his desk, fiddling with the mess of wires and parts between his hands, when the door opened.

Tango looked up, confused, and saw Cub standing in the doorframe.

"More tests?" Tango frowned. He'd already sat through a whole host of tests this morning; he thought he'd be free for the rest of the day.

"No quite," Cub told him.

He was a man on the shorter, rounder side, but you wouldn't notice, not with everything else going on with him. Cub was the lead geneticist in the lab, and often conducted many of his experiments on himself. As such, he had a pair of tattered wings too small to be anything more than decoration, borrowed from the genes of a feathered dragon; a full set of sharp teeth not dissimilar from Tango's own, with which Tango had seen Cub snap a bone in half, borrowed from a mermaid; and pitch black hair and eyes, as well as traces of death magic, from a dark elf. He was the only person Tango knew who was older than him, though no one knew which race Cub had gotten the longevity from. While he was by no means human anymore, he got away with walking freely around the palace without hiding any part of himself by being a perfect mix of friendly, unsettling and indispensible.

It was Cub who had first combined the DNA of a pymgy dragon with that of a human, resulting in an infant with a mix of human and dragon traits, ie, Tango himself.

Cub studied Tango for a second with those almost soulless eyes, before announcing, "The king is dead. The new queen has ordered that all Vis being held against their will in the palace be released."

Tango blinked, reeling. "What?" The king was dead? He'd only been crowned a few years ago - that had to be some kind of record for shortest rule of the era. And the new queen...

Tango had met her once. Rebecca Argnum. She'd come to the lab the day before she disappeared two and a half months ago, and she'd sworn that she'd help him see the world some day. Tango hadn't put much thought into it - her brother was still young, after all, so by the time he died, he would have children of his own, and Rebecca wouldn't be next in line anymore - but still, it had been an tantalising prospect ever since. Now that it was suddenly a possibility - not just that, but a reality - he didn't know what to do.

Finally, he managed to get a question out of his brain and into his mouth. "What about Torchy?"

"Last I checked, he's still a Vis, too. He's as free as you are."

"But can he come with me?"

"If he wants to."

"Where is he?"

Cub eyed him up a moment longer, before smiling smugly, pointed teeth on display. "I sent Doc to fetch him. He's on his way."

Relief pulled Tango's shoulders downwards. Torchy, the pygmy dragon that half of his DNA came from, was usually in his room with him, but he'd been taken out earlier that morning for reasons no one would explain to Tango, and hadn't yet returned.

With the first of Tango's questions answered, the rest started spilling out. "Where do I go?"

"Wherever you want."

"Where am I allowed to go?"

"Wherever they'll have you."

"What happened to the king?"

"A group of rebels killed him."

Good.

Before the next question could make itself known, Doc stepped up behind Cub, a tiny, writhing mass of red-gold scales twisted around his cybernetic arm.

"Torchy!" Tango grinned.

The dragon lifted his head, spotted Tango, and pushed off of Doc's arm, with a happy growl of, "Tongo!" Torchy struggled more with speech than most pygmy dragons, and often his words came out garbled. Most of the time, no one besides Tango had any idea what he was saying.

Torchy reached him and settled on his shoulders, twining happily around his neck.

"Don't use me as your errand boy again," Doc snapped to Cub, though Tango knew he wasn't actually mad.

Doc seemed intimidating to those that didn't know him, because he was abnormally tall, had a resting scowl and held a grudge like a champion, but those who actually knew him knew he was really a big softie. He was the chief engineer in the lab, often working side-by-side with the geneticists, and was almost as strange to look at as Cub. An undercover mountain nymph, he took great care to hide the goati-ish parts of him: he wore his dark hair long and hid both it and the goat's horns the hair didn't quite conceal under a cap. His skin was more grey than pink, and he had a goat-like beard growing from his chin. Much of the right side of his body had been replaced by bionics, leaving him with a glowing red eye, an arm rather more "muscular" than the other, and a limp due to his right leg being human-shaped and his left being goat-shaped. No one knew what had happened for him to require the additions, and whenever someone asked, he always refused to explain. Doc was the oldest person in the lab, apart from Cub, and took orders from no one except Cub and the king himself.

Although, it was probably the queen herself now, Tango reasoned.

Everything Tango knew about engineering and electronics, he had learnt from Doc. Everything Tango knew about genetics and biology in general, he had learnt from Cub. In return, Tango didn't put up a fight when they wanted to do any sort of test, even the uncomfortable ones. The three had formed an unlikely crew of mutual benefits and mix-and-match bodies.

Doc held out his flesh arm, a messenger bag swinging from it. "I got you food and some real clothes - you can't wear Cub's old labcoat in public."

Tango looked down at the labcoat he wore. It was scorched from where he'd lost his temper a few times, stained from where he'd spilled seadust on it, and torn from both his and Torchy's claws. Cub had gifted it to him years ago, after the previous labcoat got incinerated due to events entirely unrelated to Tango's flames, he swears it.

"Thanks," he said, accepting the bag from Doc. He flicked it open and peered inside. All he could really identify from the pile of folded clothes was a black vest, though he definitely saw both yellow and red fabric beneath.

"Go get changed, then you can throw some of your things in the bag and we'll walk you out," Cub told him, gesturing at the bathroom door.

"Got it."

*

Half an hour later, Tango was standing at the palace's side gate with Torchy coiled around his arm, Cub on his left and Doc on his right.

He'd filled the messenger bag with books, seadust and seadust components, and as much of Torchy's horde - a small collection of gears and springs - as possible.

Tango loved the outfit Doc had picked out for him - though part of it was, of course, due the fact that he had never had real clothes before: in the summer, the lab coat sufficed, and in the winter he burrowed under the blankets and slept most of the time. The long-sleeved yellow shirt was tight enough to keep wind out and heat in, and the grey vest he wore over it was buttoned all the way down to keep it from flapping around. A pair of thick, baggy trousers made his legs look far wider than they really were, fuzzy grey boots kept his feet warm, and fluffy bands around his wrists kept his hands from freezing off. Without the carefully warmed conditions of his room in the lab keeping him just the right temperature, added measures were a must to ensure he didn't freeze; as such, a long, thick, black coat lined on this inside with blue fur was hung neatly over the bag, ready for when it was needed.

Tango only hoped it was enough.

"Keep walking east," Cub was telling him. "You'll reach the Subsol Woods in about two days, if you make good speed."

"Two days?! I can't walk two days!" Torchy protested, in his dragon language.

"You won't be doing any walking," Tango reminded the little dragon, holding up his arm to look him in the eye. "You'll probably barely even do any flying, for void's sake!"

Tango was the only person in the lab who could understand Torchy. Dragons, like so many other races, were born knowing the language, and Tango had inherited that ability. Torchy could both speak English as well, but he refused to. He'd been caught by the king of the time shortly after coming out from hiding, and had since taken every offence at the mere suggestion that he speak their language.

Doc chuckled, but then sobered up quick. "Just make sure you ration your food and don't eat it all at once. In the woods, you'll find both a faerie and an elf camp, though you'll probably come across the faeries first. Tell them Meyer sent you, they'll take care of you."

Right. Tango kept forgetting that "Doc" wasn't the engineer's real name.

"Got it," Tango nodded.

"Good luck," Cub said.

Tango took a deep breath, and took his first step out of the castle gate.

"WAIT!" a voice called before he could take a second.

They all turned to see a young woman - barely more than a girl, really - running towards them. The queen.

"Good, I was worried I'd missed you," Queen Rebecca panted when she reached them.

"Your majesty," Cub and Doc said together, bowing.

Wordlessly, Tango copied the motion.

The young queen waved her hand at him. "Ah, no need for that. Once you're outside those gates, you're officially free - you're barely even under my rule anymore."

"Oh," Tango said, because what else was he supposed to say?

"I wanted to give you this before you go." The queen held out a small drawstring pouch.

"What is it?" Tango asked curiously, taking it and weighing it in his hand. It was heavier than he expected, considering how little it seemed to hold.

"Something that'll help you later - trust me, it's saved my life more than once."

Tango started to open the pouch, but the queen hurriedly said, "No, no! Wait until you're alone."

Tango frowned. "Why?"

"It's..." She hesitated. "It's the sort of thing best opened in private."

"Right." Tango nodded, like that made any sense at all.

As he was tucking the pouch into the messenger bag, she went on, "I also wanted to wish you luck. I told you I'd get you out, and I did."

"Thank you," Tango said, and meant it with his whole heart.

Finally, finally he was getting to see the world.

He turned back to the city beyond the gate. He'd have to navigate that before he even reached the plains that stood between here and the Subsol Woods, but he'd memorised many maps of the country in his time, including one of the city as it currently stands. He didn't think he'd have much, if any difficulty with it.

After another deep breath, he took his second step out into the world.

And just like that, he was walking, a free male, his best friend on his arm and a mystery pouch in his bag, and Doc's call to "be careful!" in his ears.

He had no idea where he was going or who he would meet, but he was ready. This world was about to see what a Tek could do with freedom and a pocket full of seadust.

[next]