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Hazy sunlight slipped through billowing maroon curtains in Fearne and Ashton Greymoore-Calloway’s private bedchambers. It wasn’t uncommon for Fearne to wake up before her partner. This Saturday was a moment she’d been looking forward to all summer. The Feywild held the most fun festival dedicated to the blue raspberry on the seventeenth of Sydenstar.
Fearne arose from her side of bed, staying as light on her hooves as possible. She drummed on the purple bark wall of her and husband’s treehouse estate with her claws. An animated delphinium flower crept into their room. The druid cast Speak with Plants upon her lady’s maid’s arrival. Green sparkles danced over the wildfire druid’s mouth and the fey flora’s pistil.
Fearne tested, Hello, hello. Delphi, can you understand me?”
“Of course, Lady Greymoore-Calloway. What can I do for you today?” Delphi replied with a nod.
She asked, “Do you mind slithering down to the kitchen, and having Ivy and Olivia prepare the usual quick breakfasts for their majesty and moi?”
“Not at all, ma’am,” assured her enchanted assistant.
Her lady chimed, tossing heaps of nutrient dense soil down the dumbwaiter. “Thank you. Now eat up, friends. Their majesty and I have a jam-packed day ahead of us.”
She opened the curtains on the balcony, watching the sunrise throughout the forest. Ashton cracked one eye open just before their helpful houseplants delivered their and Fearne’s meals for this morning.
They grunted, feeling their typical sharp pain spark more so along their pumice arm right now.
Ashton greeted, voice raspy from both disuse and their usual aches. “Hey there, you fucking stunner.”
The genasi gawked at their wife, who watched the Daigonae birds flutter above carnivorous flowers. The wildfire druid stood behind their closed balcony door in a sheer green chemise that matched her wavy hair. Fearne preferred to sleep with little to no clothes during most summer nights.
However, their wife in her true form was an alluring sight. Her features were more elongated, furrier, and primal in her home plane. Ashton felt more bewitched by her than any of their odd dunamantic-induced dreams, and those nights were filled with endless possibilities. A ray of sunlight warmed her face; Fearne's deer nose wiggled to the delectable smell of their imminent breakfasts. A daylit glow often highlighted every adorable freckle and ample curve.
“Damn.” He thought to himself. “Aren’t I the luckiest fucker on any realm?”
The couple met one another at their cozy little corner breakfast nook. Fearne sat down on a gray loveseat, patting an empty spot for them.
Tail rustling against the cushions, his wife pointed out, “Ooh! You’re drooling, you big lug.”
“I am not, sweetheart!” They harrumphed, brushing a dry corner of their soft jade lips.
Ashton grinned at their lady’s morning mischief.
She beckoned with a crook of her clawed finger. “Join me, won’t you, Ash?”
“I’ll be right there,” promised her partner.
Fearne noticed telltale stiffness in their joints. The creaky sounds were a dead giveaway. Still, Ashton woke up with a smile when they sat beside her in the corner breakfast nook. It was difficult for them not to do that when living with Fearne every day.
Their wife inquired, cocking an eyebrow at them. “How bad is it right now, baby?”
“Babe, it’s just the arm today.” Ashton admitted without hesitation.
Still, Fearne fretted over any modicum of their chronic pain. She pulled them into a relaxed embrace, and cast a low level Cure Wounds over their person. Golden light sheathed over their dense rocky skin for a moment. A soothing warmth pulsed over them. It was as comforting as the hot cup of coffee they drank with breakfast.
Their lady presumed, “Better, Ash?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t too fucking terrible in the first place.” He protested, and concern flashed in his blue-green eyes. “I need you to think about yourself too Fearne because I’ve seen you do a lot of magic at home. You’re going to tire yourself out, and you didn’t need to spell, mmph!”
Fearne cut them off with an ardent, passionate kiss right on their pretty mouth — morning coffee breath and all.
Their lady reasoned, “Oh, come on, Ashton. We both know I’m just so powerful. I didn’t even break a sweat, and I am not going to overexert myself with one teensy minor heal spell. Besides, we’re doing a lot of walking today.”
Fearne regaled her partner with tales of the Blue Raspberry Festival’s past. She was abuzz with excitement. Ashton thought two big blue raspberries would replace their wife's gorgeous green eyes. They imagined sounding like winning the slots in Yios as she discussed sneaking Sweet Pea onto a magical carousel just before her one hundredth birthday.
They both ate bowls of thick Marquesian yogurt with dried cherries, salted nuts, and drizzles of honeyed peanut butter.
The Titan twosome brushed their teeth together.
Some time later, Fearne compiled a few bowls of fruit and grubs for Mister to eat whenever he decided peeking out of his mama’s tresses. His dama filled massive food and water troughs for Mister’s little brother Gloamglut.
💙
From there, Fearne loaded up their belted bags with all their essentials. Ashton tuned up their trusty crawler.
Afterward, the couple dressed in apt festival garb. Fearne wore small blue and white fruity ribbons near her majestic spiraled horns. She donned a blue bra that she fashioned as more of an undershirt, and one of Imogen’s floral denim button downs that she never returned to her fellow witch. Numerous accessories, a skirt that matched her hair bows, and cobalt blue gaiters completed her ensemble.
Ashton went for the exact same color scheme. They sported a long blue duster vest with spikes at the shoulders. A ripped white crop top adorned with an angry blue raspberry decal caught their wife’s doe eyes. A sassy blue plaid skirt, distressed gray jeans, and glittery blue combat boots polished off their look.
After a wolf whistle, her husband praised, “Well, damn! Hello, Hot Stuff.”
“Ooh! Right back atcha, stud.” Their wife echoed, giving them a light love tap with a sneaky Grasping Vine.
His dama alerted, “Hey, Mister. Mama and I are leaving, little dude. Are you coming with us, or do you want to hold down the fort?”
“Me stay, dama.” Mister answered, using FSL with his tiny paws.
Mister hooted in anger at a shrunk down Gloamglut for wrapping all the way around his favorite indoor climbing tree.
His mama reprimanded, “Ah, ah, ah, Little Mister Greymoore-Calloway, don’t you do it. No shooting fiery turds at your baby brother. You two have to share the playroom.”
A disgruntled monkey dropped his flaming pellet down a guest chamber pot, and flushed it.
“Um, sweetheart, since when can our son use the potty?” Ashton wondered in a cocktail of pride and shock.
Their lady revealed, “I guess for at least a month. Dorian showed him instructional moving picture galleries on ScryTube when he and Orym babysit the boys on our anniversary.”
His dama stroked his poofy orange fur crown. “Good fucking work, man.”
“Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do, gentlemen,” bid their mama.
Fearne asked Nana Morri to set the usual protection enchantments on their house.
She and Ashton strode out to his crawler, arm-in-arm. Their shoes clomped with every step.
Before they exited their garage, the couple twisted a respective spike and starry bracelet charm. A lavender haze shrouded the pair of them. Ashton presented as a half-elven person with scars and acne-riddled skin. Their wife transformed into a vibrant seafoam green tiefling. Bell’s Hells had to use Disguise Self, anywhere during their travels.
Ashton smooched Fearne’s freckled shoulder, reminding her. “Babe, you cannot claim you’re royalty since we’re going to be out in the open near the Unseelie Court.”
“I know. I know, baby.” Fearne pouted in a sad huff. “But you think I am; right Ash?”
They obliged, handing their wife a helmet with dual slits for her horns. “Yes, Princess Professor Greymoore-Calloway.”
On that note, Fearne looped her arms around Ashton, ensuring she had a steady hold. Their crawler engine roared to life, and as the garage door opened, steam billowed out from two sets of flanking pipes. They rode away from their sprawling tree estate onto a winding dirt road. Fearne saw Mister perched on top of Gloamglut’s serpentine head, waving goodbye for a second time.
“We love you boys so, so much.” Their mother vowed, giving them countless air smooches.
Their dama promised, giving a thumbs-up to their sons. “We’ll be back by nightfall, guys.”
Fearne placed her chin on Ashton’s concealed basalt shoulder. The duo ventured out tangleward to a once unincorporated area just beyond the Evershifting Grasslands.
Since the snooty, weird elven city of Syngorn shimmered in from the Material Realm a lot following the Rites of Cathatheosis, many fey beings developed quick (and mayhaps questionable) small businesses at times. Every shopkeeper had their own unique bartering methods.
The twosome zipped to the fairgrounds in a speedy blue blur, parking their vehicle behind a gate beside spectral horses and upside down giant bullfrog-led wagons.
💙
“Welcome to your first Blue Raspberry Fest, Ash,” beamed Fearne.
Ashton took stock of the grounds. Wyverns and griffins straightened out splattered signs celebrating this homegrown fey fruit. There were multiple tented booths for jams, sauces, drinks, perfumes, and any damn use imaginable.
The crowd was packed into a sprawling open field like tin fish. However, they all loved this homegrown flavor. Teenagers raced past them in giant hamster balls. There was even a bunny-dragon shaped ride for children. Ashton heard the pinkish fae tiefling operator call it a floating locomotive.
Her husband figured, “You must’ve had fun riding on something like that as a kid. Huh, babe?”
“Oh, I was already grown and too tall for it by my forties. Actually, I wanted to go here sooner, like real bad.” Their wife reminded them. “But Nana was always more interested in her stories.”
“But you never sneaked out before then?”
She remembered, talking with her hands. “Oh, Sweet Pea and I tried to bust out of there for sure. But Tum always caught us when we climbed out of the window.”
“Fuck it. Then let’s make this year the best festival visit yet, Baby Doll,” insisted Ashton.
Fearne’s presently longer tail whipped back and forth like mad at the notion. The couple received temporary dancing blue heart tattoos to grant them entrance everywhere within the festival.
Ashton was impressed their wife made her first steal in less than ten minutes. She snagged a sticky piece of parchment that read: First Time Festival visitor.
His wife declared, “We should make it official. So there you go Bennet.”
“Oh, Hells no!” Her partner proclaimed, shaking their head for emphasis. “I am not a little kid.”
She scoffed, caressing their fake pimple cheek with her tail. “You’re so gods’ damn lucky I didn’t stick it on your forehead. Come on, it’s tradition.”
“Fine.” He relented in a grumble. “I’ll wear it for you.”
Ashton hated it for all of fifteen seconds. Then they watched Fearne’s lips curl into such a joyous grin that they couldn’t stay mad at her antics. The illusioned duo’s next stop was a classic blue raspberry lemonade stand.
She surmised, “Hey, kid. Go grab one of your parents. 'Cause you want yours with booze, right softie?”
“Maybe later.” They shocked her. “For now, let’s try it plain.”
Fearne felt their forehead. “Woah! Are you doin’ okay, Benny?”
“Fi, I’m fine.” They reassured her, kissing the fire opal and ruby gems on her ring finger in a demure manner. “Nothing beats your Mawmaw’s delicious homebrewed cocktails.”
“That’s true.”
The cunning little fae elven girl attempted to overcharge Fearne.
The kid mentioned, hopping up onto a stepstool. “It’s for my summer camp, pretty lady.”
“Y’all don’t have summer camps around here, ankle biter.” cut in Ashton on his wife’s defense.
She smirked, coming up with a quick little lie. “I’m an exchange student with the Wildemount Wildlings on the Material Plane.”
“Oh yeah? My gorgeous partner and I were grown-up counselors there, kiddo.” Fearne corrected with victory sparking in her eyes. “They get their funds from Nicodranas and Whitestone. The founder knows some old guy called The Gentleman, and she has access to even older money from the Lord and Lady of Whitestone since their many children go there every summer.”
The fae little elf girl's confidence wavered, but she couldn't let her customers see that.
The precocious little businesswoman relented, “All right; I’ll be generous. Instead of ten that will be eight fey sterlings. But I’d also like two of your cute flowers.”
Fearne plucked a pair of the nontoxic daisies out of her hair, and silver coins clinked onto the wooden stand. Ashton took their first sip. They tasted blue raspberry before, but somehow the flavor seemed more intense at the fair. It tasted like natural blue — tart, but a touch sweeter than a regular red raspberry.
Ashton mentioned, clicking their tongue that was stained blue. “Not bad, kiddo.”
“Mm-hm.” Their wife hummed in agreement. “It’s pretty dang delicious.”
Ashton flicked an extra bent copper piece for her troubles as they and Fearne perused another booth.
The lemonade owner complained at the top of her lungs. “Dude, what can I buy with an interplanar copper? A whole lot of nothing!”
Embers engulfed the masked druid’s eyes.
“Just say thank you, little missy,” advised Fearne.
The child gulped in fear. “Why thank you. Please don’t come again.”
They walked three rows over to a different kiosk. Ashton thought about taking a look at the blue raspberry perfumes, colognes, and musks.
This tented booth had a clashing combination of citrusy floral scents. It smelled like an overpriced clothier in Jrusar at the opulent Lucent Spire.
“Hm… I was looking to change my signature scent,” noted her partner. "What do you think, babe?"
Fearne heeded, stopping them before they tested a sample. “Careful, my love. Some of those have added pheromones to spice things up in the boudoir, and I’m pretty sure we don't have a problem in that department.”
“I mean, it extends beyond our bedchambers, Baby Doll.” They boasted with a fond grin. “Remember the boat we stole in Nicodranas?”
Their wife sighed in delight. “Yeah. That was worth getting arrested by The Zhelezo.”
Ashton caressed the small of Fearne’s back, and that subtle touch made her giggle in surprise. The couple posed for portraits behind cardboard designed with big dual paintings of the celebratory fruit.
“I miss your adorable as fuck little deer nose.” Ashton pouted, whispering to their lady.
Fearne frowned in agreement, “I miss your stunning sparkles too.”
They understood why they had to hide their true faces. Bell’s Hells was wanted on three different realms and in the capital lunar city of Kreviris, yet the Greymoore-Calloways both hated doing so on a nice date. Still, the supposed tiefling tucked the sweet image into her belted bag. Ashton traded a smooth skipping rock for it.
“So how much for the emerald?” inquired the katari lux captum taker.
Ashton declared with utter incredulity. “Oh, for fuck's sake, are you serious? My wedding band is not for sale.”
“Everything is for sale,” pushed the annoying catlike creature.
Their wife championed, “Ha! My partner can kick your ass. Bennet, show him.”
Lightning flashed in Ashton’s gaze, and their dunamantic crystal hammer flew from their treehouse. Rows of patrons in the crowd screamed in immediate terror, and ducked down to avoid being struck by this heavy projectile. Fearne’s confident smirk grew wide after her husband had their weapon in hand.
“Ne-Never mind,” acquiesced the katari whose voice trembled with a nervous yowl.
With a feign of politeness, Ashton waved, “Smiley day to you, good fella.”
Fearne laughed out loud at that. Her gaze drifted to FCG’s coin to the Changebringer that her partner wore as a necklace.
“Letters would be real proud of us, baby,” believed their lady.
Ashton gave Fearne a big hug at that notion.
Blue raspberry printed shirts from Riegel Tees drew their eye, but not their coin yet. Ashton snapped some painties of Fearne and themselves standing in from of the largest blue raspberry grown this year. This behemoth berry was comparable to the sprawling leafy boughs of their tree. Unfortunately, most rides were out of commission with too much magical interference from their neighboring plane. However, Fearne and Ashton always found good eats at Ms. Titi’s Kitchen.
💙
Fearne hailed a water taxi. She stuck her fingers near her mouth, emitting a loud whistle. An adaro paddled toward the couple on a raft along one of the numerous overhead rivers. The raft captain cast Antigravity on his passengers. Ashton and Fearne floated aboard his wooden vessel. They traveled seaward to the former Shademurk bog. A nature stone enclosure was bustling with business. Fearne paid the captain in his requested medium of shells. She even threw in a bit of old seaweed, which he scarfed down in one bite.
Ashton bid, disappearing inside the eatery with Fearne. “Thanks for the ride, fish boy.”
Multiple conversations and constant sounds of clinking dishware filled their ears.
“Oh, look who it is!” The elderly lagomore owner, Ms. Titi welcomed, “Two of my favorite customers.”
Tail swishing in delight, Fearne trotted up to the hostess stand, “Hey, Ms. Titi! How are you?”
“Well, I’m keeping on, Fe… Fiona.” Mis Titi answered, clapping to hurry along their greeter. “Terry, let’s get these lovebirds a table, eh?”
A toad covered in warts croaked, and guided the couple to a vacated table. Ms. Titi caught up with more of her regulars. The Greymoore-Calloways didn’t even need to look at a menu this particular afternoon. They ordered two festival specials — meatballs covered in a blue raspberry gravy. The special came complete with three different sides of mashed potatoes, collard greens, and cornbread.
Ashton’s face crumpled in immediate disgust upon first sniff.
Her husband grimaced, feeling skeptical. “Fi, I don’t know.”
“Just try it. Please take one bite for lil old me.” She promised, squeezing their hidden magma hand in assurance. “It’ll be delicious.”
Ashton avoided the meatballs for as long as possible. They partook in the trusty sides before anything else.
With a bite stuffed on one cheek, her date declared, “Show good.”
“Bennet Taylor Grey, you haven’t even touched the meatballs.” Their wife noted, daring them now. “What’s the matter? Are you chicken, baby?”
To add playful insult to injury, she clucked at them to make her point.
They refuted, taking a deep breath to steel themselves. “Fuck no! All right, Chaos Lady, I’m going for it.”
Ashton shoved a whole sauced meatball into their mouth. Upon their initial tasting, they were unsure about it. Fearne noticed her partner took slow, long chews. He tried the second one, and the combination was still a bit odd. However, they liked it more than before. These meatballs had a sumptuous beef flavor, and the tanginess of the fae raspberry gravy gave the main a nice savory-sweet vibe.
“Well, what did you think, scaredy cat?” Their wife was dying with excitement.
They divulged, being honest. “It’s still so fucking strange, but I guess they don’t suck.”
Ashton and Fearne both paid for their own meals, splitting the bill in half. The duo left a generous sterling tip. Those wonderful means would stick to their ribs for an entire afternoon.
💙
The couple returned to their fairgrounds.
People were shrieking on the now functioning water drop ride. Ashton detested rides that involved a long descent, and Fearne preferred to keep her recent lunch in her tummy.
To their delight, there was a special concert with their favorite demon heavy metal band called The Tongues. Fearne Scried on Mister through their bond.
His mama’s voice rang in his brain.
She called to him with a resonant speech. “Hey, Bubba. Sorry! Dama and I are going to be home later than planned.”
There was a glum gibbering upon that news.
“Mister, you’re in charge.” His dama informed, pressing their cheek against Fearne’s. “There’s fruit bowls in the kitchen, and you have to make sure Gloamglut eats all his bugs — not just the chocolate covered ones.”
Mister saluted his dama with a determined hoot.
Before the concert began at seven, they hung out at the petting zoo at the outermost edge of the festival. Little faun and caprine kids took their turns on mountainous riding goats. The couple petted little baby bunny-dragon hatchlings and walked beside a row of turtle-ducks.
Ashton had never seen fey piglets. They oinked like Material Realm pigs. In this plane, they came in every color of the rainbow. An even more unique one of these piglets had black fur with a single white spot at her neck and budding tusks. But unlike the rest of her littermates, she had no signs of incoming wings.
The orcish farmer seemed to take good care of all his animals. That was until Fearne picked up on bad news with her perceptive faun ears. In her disguise, it appeared as if her horn waggled in time with the chatter.
Kneeling in the mud, their wife wondered, “Oh, ho-ho, you’re so cute. What’s your name, little fella?”
The purple pig with a smoky black furred back snorted at her in confusion.
“Oh, right. I have to do my magical thang.”
The present tiefling cast Speak with Animals.
Ashton was privy to an exchange of oinks, squeals, and grunts. Fearne gasped in horror as her conversation ended with this infant pig.
Squatting beside her, Ashton prompted, “What’s going on, Fi? You look like an inferni without Hellfire.”
“The farmer’s been fattening up this poor, sweet baby girl on purpose. He’s going to turn Charlotte into b-a-c-o-n by dawn tomorrow because he thinks she’s bad luck and has no wings yet. We’ve got to bust her out of here.” Fearne alerted, keeping her voice at a whispered volume. “By the way, I think she’s already imprinted on me. She called me mama twice in the cutest voice this side of the Everchanging grass.”
Ashton knew that once their wife named a random animal that the helpless creature would be under their protection.
They let Charlotte smell their hand as a means of familiarity and trust.
Ashton recited a line from their favorite action-adventure play. “Well, Charlotte, come with us if you want to live.”
Charlotte scuttled between Ashton’s legs. A few other patrons gawked at them, but soon turned their attention to bigger flying pigs. There were so many people nearby to just make a mad dash for it. The Greymoore-Calloways thought about it. However, they didn’t have much time as the farmer wrapped up guiding an alicorn ride.
Fearne puckered her lips, and Ashton grabbed the back of her head. He followed her lead, and indulged in a fervent, yet purposeful kiss. The couple used this sweeping distraction to their advantage. Charlotte curled up as best she could into a ball. Together, they stuck the fey piglet in her denim shirt, Their new friend resembled a baby bump.
“Well, damn.” Their wife bragged, caressing her new baby. “I make even this look good.”
Ashton ushered these two through the crowd. “Get out of the way. My wife is super fucking pregnant, and um…?”
“I gotta pee so, so bad.” Fearne supplied, squirming around a little for emphasis. “Ugh, this kid is tap dancing on my bladder. Move it, losers.”
💙
The Greymoore-Calloways found their way back to the entrance in just under twenty minutes. They passed by the famer without a trace, and waddled through the crowd without any issues. They acted as if they were waiting in line at the portable privies. However, the benevolent pig nappers found a welcomed sanctuary at the Riegel tee stand.
A kind cyclops offered, “Oi, you there, swine swindlers. Y’all can hide back here.”
“That’s way too nice.” The illusioned half-elf suspected, “What do you want in return, motherfucker?”
Ever the salesman, the tall man gestured to his wares. “Hi, I’m Sampson! May I interest your adorable family in some shirts?”
They traded ribbon, yarn, and a few actual sterlings for five t-shirts.
"Ew, gross! Oh my Gods! Why do these shirts smell like apple cider vinegar, weirdo?” cringed his customer.
Sampson dismissed in an unbothered manner. “Eh, it’s the enchanted image ink. I'm pretty sure it’ll wear off in a week.”
The farmer left with his livestock before nightfall. Ashton carried their new pig in their long vest. They and Fearne bought many snacks — chocolates, soft pretzels, and sandwich cookies with a blue raspberry filling. While surrounded by various foods, the trio couldn’t go around a sausage roll cart.
Charlotte let out a frightened squeal, tucking her face in dama’s shirt at the smell of pork and other meats.
“Have you no fucking decency ma’am?” Ashton accused, scratching Charlotte’s furred back in consolation. “Did you not notice my pig?”
The ramkin sausage roll seller offered, “That ain’t my fault, my guy. Hey, lady, we also have tofu dogs.”
“No deal. We’ll be taking our business elsewhere,” declared Fearne.
The trio carried themselves with a haughty walk over to nice fae goliath, who sold them small buckets of popping corn. Charlotte loved devouring an entire bucket of that new snack. She belched loud enough for Ashton to feel the sudden jostle against their currently soft hands.
Fearne picked out the sparkliest blue collar with a raspberry shaped tag.
The trio puttered around more booths in wait for the start of this concert. This time, Ashton had a splash of tequila in their second blue lemonade from a busy food wagon. The short staff were all endeared to this purple black furred piglet. A bearded dwarven woman gave Charlotte leftover corn kernals on the house. They and Fearne were amused at the sight of each other’s blue tongues.
Misty twilight skies transitioned into a clear indigo by evening. Ashton fished a couple noise cancelling earbuds out of their skirt pocket. Those handy devices were invented by their friend, Milo Krook. When Charlotte saw these strange new things, she squealed and soon jumped into Fearne’s arms.
Ashton realized, noticing a closed piercing on her left ear. “Shit! She must think it’s an auction tag.”
“Oh, no, no, no. Your dama would never do that. They love you, and so I do, Charlotte.” Fearne clarified, kissing the bridge of her snout. “Those little things are called ear plugs, missy. ‘Cause this kind of music gets super loud, so we want to make sure your ears won’t hurt one bit.”
After a wary moment, she felt safe between Ashton and Fearne again. The concert began, and the Tongues played their greatest hits.
Paul belted out, “I was made for lovin' you, baby/ You were made for lovin' me.”
The couple mouthed the words to one another. They head banged, and moshed side by side. The crowd was going wild. Fearne threw her bra up onto the stage, and one of the lead guitarists, Gene, caught it. She looked to her husband with an apology ready to leave her lips.
“No worries!” Her partner shouted in understanding. “I get it, babe!”
Ashton threw a spiky belt up there as well. They waved around their open lighter, and a tiny pink ember hovered above Fearne’s three fingertips.
The shared excitement from this show almost made the couple lose their voices.
Two hours later, the Blue Raspberry parade was the grand finale to these epic festivities. Giant blue raspberry floats, and animated balloons of the animals who loved them made a slow procession over the fairgrounds. When Fearne actually had to use an outhouse, she somehow ended up in the swirling light parade with bearded dwarven and fae purple tiefling dancers. Her fire burned pink as opposed to the color of the day: blue.
Fearne shrugged at her husband, going with it. “What the Hells? Why not?”
“Fuck yes!” Ashton hyped up their wife. “Look Charlotte! There’s your mama. Woo, work it, Hottie.”
Charlotte oinked with glee. Her furred curly tail brushed against her dama’s crop top.
Their wife proclaimed at the end of the night. “Best festival year ever!”
Before their illusions faded, they showed a pocket-sized portrait of their true faces. Charlotte was a bit spooked at first. But they treated her with the same care they did when they met. So she still went along on their ride to their treehouse.
Mister was none too happy with his baby sister. Whereas Gloamglut took his new sibling on a short night flight.
“There’s a saying ‘that will happen when pigs fly,’” recalled her husband.
Fearne corrected, drawing Charlotte’s cute face in their cosmic glass. “Pigs do fly in the Fey Realm, baby.”
💙
Next morning, the couple purchased all the swine care essentials. With Messaging help from Deanna, Chetney directed Ashton on the proper technique to build a spacious wooden pig pen. Fearne enchanted that space in their back garden with a magical protective shield.
“We put these two barriers up, so you don’t breathe in the arcane exhaust from my crawler practice runs.” promised her dama. “But you can come and go as you please. Other than that, you’re free to forage wherever you want, Charlotte.
Fearne translated from Common to Swine Speech with ease.
Her mama told her, looking toward her beloved monkey and dragon. “If you need a reference, your brothers can vouch for us. But we’ll both keep you safe — no matter what.”
Charlotte trotted over to Mister, who on day two, was pretending she didn’t exist. Ashton invoked a Chaos Burst. They used their occasional ice bash on the ground. Fearne melted the intentional ice spikes with a single low level Scorching Ray. Together, the parents created a mud pit for their new daughter to use on hot summer days.
Over the following few weeks, Charlotte was very much like her oldest brother. She loved being indoors with mama and dama. Mister was still ticked at his baby sister for hogging all of his parents’ attention. However after a fight over the bed, Mister gave her a banana peel to eat as a peace offering.
One other afternoon, the family of five all gathered around the pair of swings by their front door. Fearne and Ashton gazed into each other’s eyes like this was a brief much needed respite amidst a life on the run together.
Holding the swing vines steady, her husband sighed in bliss. “Damn do I love our family.”
“Me too, softie.” Their wife agreed, placing their jade hand on both her heart and Charlotte’s head. “Me too.”