Run of the Pippets
An Unusual Discovery
Sky Fall
High Above, Deep Below
Run of the Pippets
Enter: Pippets!
One day, while brewing an experimental potion, Amayllis accidentally creates Pippets- cute little creatures based on fruits! When Kit comes to visit his friend, they all get scared away and disperse over Goldfair, undoubtedly bringing mischief along with them.
This is an introductory comic for Pippets and their corresponding event prompt in the deviantArt pouflon group.
This is an introductory comic for Pippets and their corresponding event prompt in the deviantArt pouflon group.
featuring Ducky's pouflon, Rowan!
An Unusual Discovery
Welcome to the World
“Vespilet.”
The vespire groans softly, rolling over and running her claws down their face. “A few more minutes, Romulon.”
The smell of breakfast wafts in from their small but serviceable kitchen. That was what life was like in Fluorspar-- small, but serviceable. The town of outcasts and pariahs was made large not by its size, but by the indomitable spirit and love of the people who inhabited it.
“Darling, please,” the underlying electricity in their beloved’s voice takes the vespire by the heart and they open their eyes. “I have your breakfast and… and Vespilet! The post came. There’s a letter for us… I was hoping we could open it together.”
“A letter?” the vespire asks groggily, tail curling up to wave lazily at the pouflon while they stretch, yawning. “For both of us?”
“Yes!” the pouflon answers excitedly. “It’s tied up with ribbon and sealed, see?” A tray of pastries settles daintily on their nightstand, the bound scroll whisked off it with a whiff of magic. “To the esteemed Vespilet & Romulon,” reads the pouflon before they flick the scroll, sending it to land lightly in Vespilet’s lap. “Love, I think it’s…” the pouflon swallows thickly, then smiles. “I think it’s a summoning! I think that I should go alone-- you stay here and set up, okay?” It would be safer that way.
“Romulon…” the vespire murmurs, frowning. They look down at the sealed scroll, picking anxiously at the wax seal that guarded the secrets within. “Shouldn’t we--”
“Vespilet, it’s far too dangerous for us both to go to the Capitol, I’ll be quick and safe, I promise. Our own bloom-- can you believe it?” The tap of Romulon’s hooves echoes through their modest bedroom. The pouflon flings their wardrobe open and whisks out a dark cape. “I’ll wear this, nobody will think twice. I’ll be fine!”
“*Romulon*,” the vespire says again, holding up the scroll. “Can we open it, please?”
The pouflon freezes, cloak halfway across their shoulders. “...Open! Yes, right!”
The vespire smiles and beckons the pouflon to them. They share a long look, smiles wavering before they touch foreheads. “Together?” Vespilet asks. “Together,” Romulon affirms.
Together. They each take hold of the ribbon, and together they pop off the seal, letting the ribbon lay where it fell. The scroll unwinds.
The vespire groans softly, rolling over and running her claws down their face. “A few more minutes, Romulon.”
The smell of breakfast wafts in from their small but serviceable kitchen. That was what life was like in Fluorspar-- small, but serviceable. The town of outcasts and pariahs was made large not by its size, but by the indomitable spirit and love of the people who inhabited it.
“Darling, please,” the underlying electricity in their beloved’s voice takes the vespire by the heart and they open their eyes. “I have your breakfast and… and Vespilet! The post came. There’s a letter for us… I was hoping we could open it together.”
“A letter?” the vespire asks groggily, tail curling up to wave lazily at the pouflon while they stretch, yawning. “For both of us?”
“Yes!” the pouflon answers excitedly. “It’s tied up with ribbon and sealed, see?” A tray of pastries settles daintily on their nightstand, the bound scroll whisked off it with a whiff of magic. “To the esteemed Vespilet & Romulon,” reads the pouflon before they flick the scroll, sending it to land lightly in Vespilet’s lap. “Love, I think it’s…” the pouflon swallows thickly, then smiles. “I think it’s a summoning! I think that I should go alone-- you stay here and set up, okay?” It would be safer that way.
“Romulon…” the vespire murmurs, frowning. They look down at the sealed scroll, picking anxiously at the wax seal that guarded the secrets within. “Shouldn’t we--”
“Vespilet, it’s far too dangerous for us both to go to the Capitol, I’ll be quick and safe, I promise. Our own bloom-- can you believe it?” The tap of Romulon’s hooves echoes through their modest bedroom. The pouflon flings their wardrobe open and whisks out a dark cape. “I’ll wear this, nobody will think twice. I’ll be fine!”
“*Romulon*,” the vespire says again, holding up the scroll. “Can we open it, please?”
The pouflon freezes, cloak halfway across their shoulders. “...Open! Yes, right!”
The vespire smiles and beckons the pouflon to them. They share a long look, smiles wavering before they touch foreheads. “Together?” Vespilet asks. “Together,” Romulon affirms.
Together. They each take hold of the ribbon, and together they pop off the seal, letting the ribbon lay where it fell. The scroll unwinds.
“...Vespilet?” Romulon’s voice breaks the silence that fell over their home. “...This isn’t from Chrysanthos, where…”
The vespire’s voice cracks, “B...Banelaire.”
“Banelaire?” the pouflon responds, stunned.
The vespire’s voice cracks, “B...Banelaire.”
“Banelaire?” the pouflon responds, stunned.
Under the cover of darkness the couple traverses the streets of Banelaire, hooded and cloaked against the heavy mist and heavier eyes. Vespilet leads the way, an anxious Romulon at their heels. The pouflon hadn’t understood, and Vespilet hadn’t known what to tell them.
How do you explain-- how could *they* explain…
“Vespilet,” the pouflon says quietly, and the vespire winds their tail over the pouflon’s back.
“I’m here,” they respond quietly. “Turn here, careful on the stairs.”
Downwards they plunge, deep beneath the city. The hewn stairs become winding tunnels become cavernous spaces lit with burning sconces. Everywhere Romulon looks is gilded, broken stone laced with gold. Wounds held together by spirit.
“Where are we?” the pouflon asks.
The vespire looks back, taking their hood down at last. “We’re almost there, my love. Almost there.”
Guards meet them at a towering gate. Vespilet hands them the summons that had been delivered just days ago. The precious parchment exchanges hands and the gates swing open, revealing the heart of the city just beyond.
The joined crystals of every vespire hums as if to greet them, a sound that reverberates in Vespilet’s chest as they return the call almost instinctively. Their beloved stands stunned by the glittering colossus that was the Lucid Altar, a multitude of colors swimming in their vision, refracting on the walls. “Vespilet, it’s…” *beautiful*.
The vespire smiles back at them before beckoning them forward. “Romulon, come on… they’re here!”
Vespilet could *feel* the tug, their heart about to burst as they pick their way carefully through the room. They wanted to run, to leap, to sing their joy now that they could *feel* the draw of their little one, but the sanctity of this place held them back. “Over here,” they instruct, carefully pulling a couple of broken rock shards away. “This one!”
The vespire grasps a rounded rock in hand and turns to present it to Romulon. The pouflon settles back on a heel, ears flicking with uncertainty as they look from the geode to the room around them. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
How do you explain-- how could *they* explain…
“Vespilet,” the pouflon says quietly, and the vespire winds their tail over the pouflon’s back.
“I’m here,” they respond quietly. “Turn here, careful on the stairs.”
Downwards they plunge, deep beneath the city. The hewn stairs become winding tunnels become cavernous spaces lit with burning sconces. Everywhere Romulon looks is gilded, broken stone laced with gold. Wounds held together by spirit.
“Where are we?” the pouflon asks.
The vespire looks back, taking their hood down at last. “We’re almost there, my love. Almost there.”
Guards meet them at a towering gate. Vespilet hands them the summons that had been delivered just days ago. The precious parchment exchanges hands and the gates swing open, revealing the heart of the city just beyond.
The joined crystals of every vespire hums as if to greet them, a sound that reverberates in Vespilet’s chest as they return the call almost instinctively. Their beloved stands stunned by the glittering colossus that was the Lucid Altar, a multitude of colors swimming in their vision, refracting on the walls. “Vespilet, it’s…” *beautiful*.
The vespire smiles back at them before beckoning them forward. “Romulon, come on… they’re here!”
Vespilet could *feel* the tug, their heart about to burst as they pick their way carefully through the room. They wanted to run, to leap, to sing their joy now that they could *feel* the draw of their little one, but the sanctity of this place held them back. “Over here,” they instruct, carefully pulling a couple of broken rock shards away. “This one!”
The vespire grasps a rounded rock in hand and turns to present it to Romulon. The pouflon settles back on a heel, ears flicking with uncertainty as they look from the geode to the room around them. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
It took time. It took coaxing. It took the gentle guidance of those that guarded this sacred place. But before long, they could feel the creature inside the geode. Even Romulon began to feel the pull, after a while.
“It’s warm,” Romulon told Vespilet one morning, their eyes sparkling. “I can feel it.”
Vespilet came to their side, reaching out to place a palm against the normally cool stone. Their breath catches in their throat and they smile, “Yeah… it is!”
A few hours later, their geode began to hatch. Gently they coaxed, as they had been instructed. The first glimpse of a tiny claw had Romulon chomping at the bit to break the whole thing open, but Vespilet calmly held them back. “Not much longer. Not much longer, little one.”
It wasn’t much longer, at all.
The geode that emerged was unlike anything Romulon had ever seen. A creature of claws and hooves. A cracked mouth capable of crushing rock, but a soft little nose. “They… they look like you,” is all the pouflon can say, eyes brimming with tears. The geode chirps and the pouflon buries their face in Vespilet’s soft mane, sobbing and laughing quietly. “They’re beautiful, they look like you, they’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life, Vespilet, they look like *you*.”
The vespire leans into their partner, tears swimming in their eyes as well. “They look like you, too,” they say quietly, leaning over to pick up the small… so small… geode. “Hello, my heart…”
The parents cried quietly, sharing their joy and bringing their geode to their chests, welcoming them to their family.
“Your little one will face hardships,” comes a voice from behind them. When they look they see the Arbiter, looming and imperious-- but she smiles kindly at them, at the child cradled between them. “Their kind is not known beyond the Wreath. They won’t be welcomed past Obrille.”
The cautionary warning sends a shock through the proud parent’s hearts. Eyes still swimming, they turn to face the queen of Banelaire. “We aren’t, either,” Romulon manages at last, ears against their head.
“It’s warm,” Romulon told Vespilet one morning, their eyes sparkling. “I can feel it.”
Vespilet came to their side, reaching out to place a palm against the normally cool stone. Their breath catches in their throat and they smile, “Yeah… it is!”
A few hours later, their geode began to hatch. Gently they coaxed, as they had been instructed. The first glimpse of a tiny claw had Romulon chomping at the bit to break the whole thing open, but Vespilet calmly held them back. “Not much longer. Not much longer, little one.”
It wasn’t much longer, at all.
The geode that emerged was unlike anything Romulon had ever seen. A creature of claws and hooves. A cracked mouth capable of crushing rock, but a soft little nose. “They… they look like you,” is all the pouflon can say, eyes brimming with tears. The geode chirps and the pouflon buries their face in Vespilet’s soft mane, sobbing and laughing quietly. “They’re beautiful, they look like you, they’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life, Vespilet, they look like *you*.”
The vespire leans into their partner, tears swimming in their eyes as well. “They look like you, too,” they say quietly, leaning over to pick up the small… so small… geode. “Hello, my heart…”
The parents cried quietly, sharing their joy and bringing their geode to their chests, welcoming them to their family.
“Your little one will face hardships,” comes a voice from behind them. When they look they see the Arbiter, looming and imperious-- but she smiles kindly at them, at the child cradled between them. “Their kind is not known beyond the Wreath. They won’t be welcomed past Obrille.”
The cautionary warning sends a shock through the proud parent’s hearts. Eyes still swimming, they turn to face the queen of Banelaire. “We aren’t, either,” Romulon manages at last, ears against their head.
The Aribter reaches out, gently running a claw under Romulon’s chin before holding out her hand. “May I?” she asks, and Vespilet silently places the child in her palm.
Azariah carefully lifts the freshly hatched hybrid to eye level, inspecting it. The geode chirps, oversized ears flopping to the side as it tilts its head. The Arbiter chuckles quietly, gently bumping her nose against the child before pulling away. “Hello, little one.” She refocuses on the parents, “I can provide you with a disguise spell while they’re young, but it wears off after a few years. However, your family is always welcome in Banelaire.” She passes the geode back to Vespilet with great care. “What will you name them?” Stunned and exhausted to giddiness, the pair bumps heads, laughing and conferring in whispers. The warnings were terrifying. All of this was new, strange, scary, wonderful. At last Vespilet pulls her head away and answers, “We’re naming them Bread, Arbiter.” |
“Well then,” the Arbiter responds, “Welcome to the world, Bread.”
Sky Fall
Skyfall I
| INTERMISSION |
Skyfall ♊︎
Something strange is happening across Bellacoste... The sky seems to have formed a large glitched crack ...
High Above, Deep Below