Chapter Text
The penthouse in the city had become all too familiar for Blathers in this day and age. Looking back, he should have been thrilled to have lived in such a nice city residence, but for Blathers, at only six years old, it was not enough to keep him entertained.
With his wings spread, Blathers swooped through his family's apartment, on the lookout for his next adventure. His mother let out a screech of surprise at him half-running, half-flying across the floor. She was in the kitchen preparing the family's morning breakfast, though at the startling entrance of Blathers, she had managed to drop a few eggs on the floor.
"Blathers!" came the angry call of the young chick's father. Blathers let his feathers droop as he slowly came to a halt in the living room.
Orbit, Blathers' father, was a bulky, broad owl. He had dark red feathers and a crosshatched tan and black chest. The frustrated father slowly removed his reading glasses and stared his son in the eye. Before he could merely open his beak to begin his lecture (the fifth or sixth this week), his wife's voice cooed across the room.
"Don't be so hard on him, dear. He's getting used to his wings, that's all," his mother, Fuzzle, stated.
Orbit knew that his wife had a soft spot for their eldest. After all, Blathers bore the most resemblance to Fuzzle, and he was the first of the nest to lose his juvenile, fluffy feathers. Already his wings were becoming replaced with smooth, silky feathers, though for the time being, Blathers' wings were in an awkward, in-between stage where he could not yet lift his feet a few inches off the ground without crashing down.
"The downstairs neighbors won't like the sound of crashing feet," Orbit muttered as he returned to his book.
Whatever lecture Orbit had been planning to give Blathers had passed, and so Blathers was back to his usual nonsense, making no effort whatsoever to help his mother clean the eggshells. She simply wiped them away with a wing and was back to cooking, though Blathers did not have much of an appetite. He had planned to spend the whole morning on the rooftop, where he liked to spy on the civilians below. He liked to imagine what treasures they had in their pockets and what exciting place they were off to.
Trips outside of the penthouse were too few for Blathers' liking. He had only just begun school, but that new destination had grown tiring after a week's worth of visits. Sometimes, his mother liked to take him to the grocery store, but they always had to bring Celeste, who took a much longer time getting than ready than her older brother.
Celeste was following him now on her tiny feet, letting out peeps here and there as she followed her brother. Celeste, a few years younger than Blathers, looked more similar to Orbit, henceforth making her Orbit's favorite. However, Blathers had to be Celeste's favorite of the family. Blathers could not get a second of peace when she was awake and active. Ever since she could walk, she hopped around, following Blathers on his adventures in the penthouse.
"Mommy, I don't want Celeste following me," Blathers complained.
"Take your sister up with you. She needs some fresh air," Orbit simply said.
Blathers hoped when he was older, Celeste wouldn't continue to follow him around. He had only known her for three years, and she was already a nuisance. The affection she felt for her brother, though Blathers' parents found it cute, only annoyed the young owl.
"I would check the sandbox while you're up there!" Fuzzle called.
A strange suggestion, but Blathers supposed it wouldn't hurt to check. He climbed up the ladder to the rooftop, assisting Celeste as she waddled behind him. He opened the hatch and squinted, using one of his wings to shield the sun from his face. Like most owls, Blathers was rather well-accustomed to the night, which was why his parents often kept the blinds shut and only turned on a lamp or two when necessary.
"We're nocturnal animals," his father had once explained to him.
"Nocturnal?" Celeste had repeated, though her pronunciation, in her three-year-old voice, sounded more like another language.
"It means we do better at night," Fuzzle added.
"But many of the other animals are busy during the day, so even though we like the night, we have to learn how to stay awake at night," Orbit added.
It was true that Blathers often felt more drowsy as he grew older during the day, though his parents assured him there were ways to get around this as he grew older. For the time being, his energetic personality seemed to keep him awake. That and a few naps during the daylight hours.
As Blathers' vision came into view, he looked around the rooftop. His parents had hung blooming plants, which they liked to set on the patio furniture they had purchased. A small playground, complete with a slide and swingset, sat on the other side, near the square sandbox Blathers and his sister often liked to play in. Sometimes at night, the family would come up here to look at the stars, an activity which Celeste would often ask for more than Blathers.
"Let's go to the sandbox," Blathers said.
"I wanna go on slide," Celeste complained.
"Well, you go on the slide, then," Blathers told her as he made his way toward the sandbox, curious to know what his mother had meant when she said to observe it.
"But I can't climb!" Celeste complained, flapping her furry feathers and letting out a few childish tears.
Blathers let out a sigh, and doing his brotherly duties, he carried her up the steps and went down the slide with her a few times. She enjoyed this more than him, especially since all he could think about was that square sandbox to the right, but once Celeste had her fill of playground enjoyment, he set her one of the swings and told her to swing her legs slowly.
That should keep her busy, he thought as he scurried to the sandbox.
Upon first glance, it looked the same. The sand was still pale and warm to the touch, the pails and shovels were all in the same corner, and the green plastic around the sandbox seemed untouched.
"There's nothing here at all," Blathers murmured disappointedly, when a flash of gold caught his eye.
He stared for a few moments, then, he took one of his wings and wiped it across the patch of sand slowly, uncovering a sparkling gold coin. He gasped and held it with his feathers, admiring the way that the gold gleamed in the sunlight.
Since his parents had gotten the sandbox for him and his sister, they had only managed to build sand castles. Never before had he been able to unearth something so beautiful and pristine. He gently set the coin to the side and began digging. Sure enough, he began to unearth more coins, some gold, some silver, some a sparkling blue.
Blathers had never been so excited in his life sitting in the sandbox and digging to his heart's content as he listened to the squeak of Celeste swinging back and forth on. What was this desire to keep digging? What was this desire to search for treasure? Being a curious owl, he was always on the lookout for something new. He didn't know he could fill that desire through digging.
He had reached the end of the sandbox, Blathers realized. He did one last look, but there was nothing left to find. The pile of coins had been placed neatly outside the sandbox now, and Celeste was already starting to complain that her legs were tired.
Blathers helped Celeste down from the swing before he scooped the coins into his feathers and made the descent back down to their home. His parents had already eaten, and they stared at Blathers in surprise when he rushed to the table and dumped his newfound treasure on top of his father's half-eaten omelet.
"Look what I found!" he exclaimed.
"Look what you found, indeed!" his mother said.
"What that?" Celeste asked as Blathers laid out the coins individually.
"Look at all this money!" Blathers said. "I'm going to go buy something with it."
"Oh, well—" His father began.
"It's not money," his mother warned. "It's...ancient coins. Buried treasure!"
"Well, if it's treasure, isn't it money, then?" Blathers asked.
"It's something very old that you dug up," his mother explained.
"If you go digging, you might find old stuff anywhere," his father added.
"You mean if I dig...I can find more buried treasure?!" Blathers exclaimed. "Not just in the sandbox?"
"Yes!" his mother exclaimed.
"Well, no. Not just anywhere. You're going to get the boy arrested, Fuzzle," Orbit murmured, removing the rest of the coins from his omelet. "There's a field of study that some animals like to go into when they grow up. Archaeology and paleontology."
"Huh?" Blathers asked, not even attempting to pronounce the words his father had told him off his six-year-old tongue.
"Some animals are able to discover amazing things," his mother said. "Like dinosaur bones!"
"Dinosaurs?!" Blathers exclaimed. "What...what is this called again?"
"Archaeology," his father repeated.
"Maybe one day, you can be an archaeologist when you grow up," his mother suggested.
Blathers' eyes widened. Looking down at the coins, he felt a desire to run back up to the sandbox and search for more, even if he knew there were no more to be found. He grabbed a few coins in his hands and looked up excitedly before proclaiming, "I'm gonna be an arch---archy--" His mother was mouthing the words slowly to him. "I'm going to be an archaeologist when I grow up!"
His father took another bite of his omelet and grumbled to his wife, "Looks like we'll have to be buying some more plastic coins from the One Bell Store soon."