Chapter Text
This was certainly not your average day. An average day would only mean snarky comments and the occasional boot from the local store, scamming any new tourists and dodging some scuffles.
…But being grappled by your neck over active river rapids at dusk by your (formerly) best buddy with only the heat of rage visible behind those glasses of his was definitely something that Spamton hadn’t written down in his shopping list. Not being betrayed like this
His hands desperately clawed at his neck being held hostage. Trying to pry Swatch’s grip to make a potential escape. But the tall figure eclipsed any light from reaching him, how did they end up like this?
Ah right, he’s half monster.
Half monster and half human,
though, people like him were certainly better at handling magic, if they could. Their physical capabilities were severely lacking compared to their non-mixed counterparts, and Spamton had seemed to draw the very short end of that stick. Being significantly smaller and weaker compared to his siblings. Not to mention–thanks to his monster mother, his whole family had trouble growing any normal, presentable hair, instead dealing with feathers poking through in the spring and especially the fall, painstakingly ripping them out in any place that didn’t seem natural. Which would include nearly their whole body, with the exception of the head and chest.
His family's efforts to appear human were draining and painful. While his brothers had gotten compliments and curious questions about how they managed to color their hair those unnatural colors, Spamton’s white plumage only highlighted the very, very non hair-like feathers, shining in the light. Making it all the more obvious that he doesn’t belong. And with the barrier up and sealing away nearly all magic available here–especially here, at the foot of the mountain. And although he could barely use some magic unlike his brothers, his small sparks and lights, surrounding any close objects with a soft yellow glow, his one unique skill. It would be quickly ridiculed and seen as near-demonic. A harsh reminder that he wasn’t fully human.
So–it’s only natural that he would end up in this situation. How his one, useful, job as a makeshift repairman for all the new toys and tools going around the town could only keep him so relevant. His snow-white, feathery hair was near-permanently stained to a darker shade of gray. Inspiring him to keep it black to prevent any tourists from noticing the unnatural texture of his plumage. And it had been successful, he could fully separate himself from the monster heritage that he was cursed with, but because of that, he hadn’t noticed the wedge forming between him and his siblings.
He was completely alone, with nothing preventing his fall. This ever certain death in a freezing river.
The large calloused hand at his throat squeezed and siphoned out the rest of his thoughts, his decline, and his failures pushing swatch to plunge him in the river by the orders of Queen. And as funny as anyone can believe, nobody would come… and he knew that.
“I will regret this, but you must understand why this has to be done.” Swatch spoke. Low and commanding in the dark, the steel grip on his neck making him struggle in the taller figure’s grip.
“Just ‘cause I cheated your bb-bossh outta some cash? Youch-ccan’t be serioush here!” He pleaded. Face squashed and heaving against Swatch’s palm.
Swatch’s face stayed seemingly expressionless, eyebrows permanently knit together behind those pink and yellow multicolored glasses of his. Before raising his free hand, and grabbing the lens’ edge, carefully sliding those panels of stained glass off his face.
His face was crushingly twisted in pain… Pain and regret, behind all that feigned anger.
The silence between them grew. The pit in Spamton’s stomach swallowed his chest, paralyzing his lungs underneath Swatch’s grip.
Swatch stood there, holding the smaller man for a long moment. Searching for something in that face, those wide, pleading eyes of a conman, something that he didn’t yet know or understand.
“My only hope for you is that the rumors are true – Goodbye, Spamton. My only wish is that we had never met.”
With that, Swatch placed his glasses on Spamton's face with a delicate reverence, and promptly held out his arm–before dropping him in the raging river below.
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The next thing that Spamton had felt was that of freezing water seeping through his clothes. They clung and glued themselves to his body. It was currently winter when he took this inopportune swim. That with the chunks of ice helpfully slamming themselves into his sides don’t exactly help when you’re scrambling to find a grip on those pointed rocks at the bottom of the river. He wasn’t a good swimmer by any means, and could only count on successfully raising his head above the water for the occasional gasp of air. His hair seeped black dye and soot around his head, streaming down into his eyes and mouth. Leaving him stinging and wheezing trying to find something to hold and support himself. Flailing his arms again in the water, the sting of the cold dug deeper into his muscles, he felt his legs grow numb with effort and exhaustion as he kept his head occasionally bobbing above the water. Looking to the sky for solace, only to be presented with that damn mountain above him. The very symbol of his flaw, before he felt himself pulled under the surface for the final time.
He understood why he was an outcast to the others, he was different, the noticeable flaw among his already-ridiculed family. With the monsters being sealed away, any mixed couples had to separate, and leave their half-monster half-human children behind on the surface. All the while tensions were still high after the sealing, these broken families had to face the ridicule, fear, and anger that could no longer be directed towards the monsters that could be to blame for their loss. But, as time passed–things had only seemed to get worse. With a monster sighting being reported near Mount Ebott, only a few towns over from Spamton, carrying a dead child, previously thought to be missing, like a prize. Further signaling how ravenous the monsters become, insatiable with their hunger and desire for power, buried under that mountain.
The townsfolk used all of that against him when he was younger. How he had monster blood in his veins. How he would only turn against them. How his very personality and allegiance was predetermined from birth. How it was only a matter of time.
Though nowadays the bullying and outright hate subsided. There was never any equal treatment towards his family. Due to his mother being sealed behind that barrier. How he never got to see her. However, he was told that she was a beautiful avian monster–with feathers that shone with a pearl's luster whenever they caught sunlight. How gentle she was with the children, and the beautiful clothing that she hand-sewn for him and his siblings. It felt like a stone in his chest whenever he thought of her, not ever knowing what she truly looked like, as he was still in an egg when the monsters were sealed. Hurriedly hidden away in his parent’s closet.
While the Addison family looks very similar to the average human, they kept some very unique traits. Spamton and every one of his siblings, Clik, Paige, Linc, and Check… Each of them had their unnatural, feathered hair color. Nearly all of them had some sort of tail, although small. His family went to great lengths to hide those abnormalities, constantly preening and plucking feathers to keep themselves clean. And had successfully run their own section of the family business. All except…. Spamton.
Clik had himself a cobbler start, repairing and designing shoes able to fit nearly every foot, while Paige started up a clothing section to the store, designing and tailoring dresses to fit the little girls who aspired to be seen as princesses in those dresses. Linc offered coats and satchels, while Check prided himself in his customer service, never failing to find what someone wanted or needed. While Spamton… Spamton was left without any unique way to contribute to the family's trade. Being too clumsy with needles and scuffing the leatherwork. Spamton could only follow Check around the store while acting as a part-time mannequin for Paige’s and Linc’s designs, being poked by pins and trapped in the different outfits, though he did enjoy practicing his magic tricks and fiddling with small instruments to break up the monotony in the store.
But when new inventions were being made, Spamton found himself repairing and investing himself in engines, batteries, old radios, and even some televisions and computers for work, which is how he ended up here… Sad, wasn’t it? Your brain reliving your life as you struggle to breathe, all but bound to die in this river, maybe he’ll possibly uncover some non-existent memory of how to swim, too.
Tossed around in the deep waters. Spamton struggled to keep himself awake from the stinging temperatures, now that the sun slipped below the horizon. And before long, his flailing limbs slowly stilled.
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