Chapter Text
Spoke woke up less than comfortable.
He was curled up like a cat behind the back of some convenience store—where he'd been all night—tail draped over his face in a poor attempt to shield his eyes from the rays of the morning sun.
..It was not working well.
With a groan, he slowly sat up and rubbed at his face; already anticipating the marks left behind as the consequences of using his school bookbag as a pillow.
Speaking of school..
…
He looked down at it with a blank stare for a couple of seconds, before suddenly jumping up with a realization.
Aaaugh-! He grabbed his horns. It's Monday!! I THINK??
Spoke quickly grabbed his backpack, slinging one of the straps over his shoulder and bolting out to the street while simultaneously dusting himself off the best he could.
He didn't know what time it was, his phone had been broken for a week and a half now; and it was honestly a miracle his scatterbrain managed to keep track of what day it was considering that fact.
It didn't help that he actually hasn't even been to school for that same week and a half now, also, but that was besides the point. He just hoped it was early enough that he wouldn't be late.
And luckily, it seems that he wouldn't be.
When he finally made it to the gate, students were still flooding in from void knows where and chatting away with so much volume they sounded like a football stadium. It kind of hurt his ears, which was really ironic when you considered that this was, well, Spoke.
Spoke easily slipped into the crowd, dancing past people with the practiced ease of somebody used to making room for others.
This past week of quiet away from school must've desensitized him or something, because if Spoke thought that it was loud outside? He was not ready for what he was met with when he pushed his way in through the propped open doors.
His pointed ears pulled themselves back as much as they physically could, his face scrunching up with disdain at the sound of everyone’s voices bouncing around the enclosed walls of the connecting corridors.
It took a second, but he eventually managed to make his way to the bathrooms, pushing the door open and basically falling inside when he did.
He shuddered.. Early morning bathrooms were creepy to say the least. He shot a brief glance over at the stalls; doors ajar and empty. He was the only one in here right now.
With a thankful sigh, he walked over to the counter and leaned against it with his palms, lifting his head up to look at himself in the mirror and being met with his very tired, very large, glowing, white, pupiless eyes.
…
He's been wearing basically the exact same clothes for months now.
The same patchwork zip-up with rainbow trims and lightning bolt he'd DIYed on the back, the same plain black t-shirt under it, and the same pair of black shorts with other rainbow-themed nicknacks attached to it. Also his shoes and socks, because obviously.
People noticed, naturally, but they seemed to just brush it off as a ‘Spoke’ thing. He guesses that it is in character for him, so thank void for that, ..even if the easy dismissal did hurt a little bit.
Spoke sighed and began running his fingers through his messied black hair in an attempt to fix it up, shuffling his jacket a little as he did so it sat more properly on his shoulders before finally taking a step back to gauge the situation.
…
Yeah, he still looks like shit. What can you expect from someone who's been sleeping on the streets, though?
Stifling a groan, he grabbed his bag and lazily swung one of the straps over his arm, turning on his heel and waltzing back over to the door.
He was basically immediately jumped when he walked out of the bathroom
“SPOOOOOOOOOOOOOKE!!” someone called.
A wide grin crept across his face.
“ROOOOOOOOOOOSE!!!”
He tried his best to look the girl over, considering the alarmingly rapid speed she was approaching him at.
She wore a light blue hoodie with some off-shoulder sleeves, with what at first glance seemed to be a simple white pleated skirt; but what was actually a mix of different pastels over her pale ripped jeans.
“Where have you BEEN?!?”
She nearly crashed into him, but stabilized herself by grabbing him by the shoulders.
“You've been gone for a WEEK!!!!” Her long pink curls flew around everywhere as she shook him back and forth. “A WEEK, SPOKE!!”
Spoke hid the way he winced at her words with a cough.
“Uh, I was just out sick for a bit, is all..” he hummed.
…
That was a lie.
He had called out sick, yes, we know this already.
But he hadn't been ill.
He'd actually been avoiding school because he didn't want anybody to notice the way he'd been limping after falling off of a roof in his sleep—it was his left leg, and he's going to ignore how it was still aching even right now (he can only guess what type of injury he has)—and he especially didn't want them to start asking questions.
He hated when people started asking questions.
“I’m glad you're feeling better now.” She smiled. “You should come over soon, Becky’s been asking about you. He's been sulking because you haven't been playing games with him.”
“Maybe sometime soon,” he replied half-heartedly with a laugh, finally shrugging her hands off of his shoulders.
“Well, y’know you're always welcome anytime,” she hummed, her purple fairy-like wings fluttering behind her in tune with her voice.
“..I know,” he replied, a bit quieter than he'd meant to be as the guilt of his absence accidentally seeped through into his tone.
Rose immediately noticed, because of course she did. She was religiously invested in caring about everyone like that, to the point she'd even notice something was up if a person so much as coughed with an off tone.
She opened her mouth to speak—
“Yo, Spoke!”
Mapicc bounded over to the pair, throwing an arm over the voidling’s shoulder and pulling him into a brief hug as their tails intertwined.
“Hey Mapicc,” he greeted, returning the gesture half-heartedly.
He was wearing a (mostly) red and black varsity—something he can often be seen in—over a black tank and leggings. His black hair was messy and unkempt with the way it was tied back under his red headband.
The demon suddenly paused once he'd stepped back.
…
“You smell like shit,” he said bluntly.
“Mapicc!" Jumper scolded from the side when she walked up, her rabbit ears bouncing up and down as she huffed and hiked her hands on her hips.
She had on a pink cropped hoodie over a darker magenta shirt of some kind, as well as a pair of pink cargo-jeans.
“What??” he defended, “I'm just being honest!" He threw his hands up in mock-defense.
“Where's Leo?” Spoke questioned, tilting his head.
“Oh.” Jumper rolled her eyes. “He already went to class with Nufuli. Everytime he's around him he suddenly becomes a straight-A student, y’know how it is.”
“Uhuh," he hummed in agreement, fiddling with one of the loose straps on his bag.
“Have you been okay?” Mapicc suddenly asked, stepping a bit closer, “I tried texting you all week, and you never responded.”
“I did too,” Rose chimed in, stuffing her hands in her pockets.
Spoke looked away and groaned. “My phone broke a bit ago,” he admitted, “I'm sorry, I'm trying to get it fixed soon but I have to wait.” Wait until I can afford it.
“Ooh," Jumper whistled, “I see, well let us know when you do, okay?”
“I will,” he promised.
Rose let out a sigh. “We should get going, see you guys later today, yeah?”
And with a few mutual agreements, the four departed and headed off for their respective classes.
.
.
.
The first class Spoke had was English.
Nothing much was that notable about it, at least in his opinion, it was always pretty boring all in all.
Slumping into his seat, he reached down and pulled one of his notebooks from his bag. It made a loud splat! as he threw it atop the table, but with everyone chatting away it was probably the quietest sound in the room.
“What's up, Spoke?” his seat-neighbor greeted as he dropped down into his own chair.
“Hi Planet.”
He looked up to see that the alien was already somehow situated, leaning into their palm as they faced him.
He wore his signature ombre hoodie, which sat loose atop a thick purple turtleneck coupled with the matching blue and purple headband and a pair of black jeans.
“You okay?” they asked, “You've been gone a while.”
If Spoke knew that this many people would be concerned about his well-being—he was a bit surprised actually, he didn't expect it, clearly—he would've rehearsed something in the mirror.
“I’m fine," he replied, biting back anything
in his tone that might've given away his peeved attitude; it wasn't Planet’s fault that he was worried. “I was just out sick for a bit, is all.”
Planet opened his mouth to say something, but Spoke quickly cut him off.
“My phone was broken,” he huffed, “So I couldn't reply to messages.”
The alien slowly grinned, showing off his teeth. “I bet I can guess who got to you first,” he snorted, letting his arm fall back down as he opened his textbook.
“You have no idea,” Spoke mumbled, slouching his face into his hands dramatically like a mourning widow.
Planet let out a snort. “There, there,” he cooed, reaching over and giving him a couple of sympathetic pats on the back.
Everyone suddenly fell silent as the door opened and somebody walked in.
…
It was just another student, so after a moment of awkward staring; the class broke back into uproar.
Planet sighed. “I think the teacher’s gonna be late again,” he mumbled, “As always, of course..”
“Good.” Spoke stretched his arms over his head. “I’m gonna get some shut eye, then.”
Planet tilted their head. “Rough night?”
“Errr..” His eyes narrowed as he thought back to it. “..No, I've had worse,” he mumbled, “It's just- I've been having trouble sleeping recently in general.”
‘Recently’ as in ‘For the months since I got kicked out’, but he wasn't going to give that context.
“I’m sorry about that.” He frowned. “Maybe you can get some melatonin to help?”
“..Maybe,” he mumbled—albeit dismissively—before following up a bit more dramatically with a huff, “Now, leave me be.”
He turned away to the sound of Planet giggling, resting his head against his hands and curling his tail tight around the leg of the chair as he settled.
…
Spoke was tired, but for some voidforsaken reason he did not fall asleep.. Which is impressive considering him! Hell, one time he'd even fallen asleep underneath a drainage canal (never again, it took weeks to get that stench out of his clothes)!
The sound of the door opening again, and he could hear his classmates quiet; putting two and two together to realize that this time it actually was the teacher who'd entered.
They did their typical entry spiel, and then began calling names for attendance. A couple of ‘here’s here and ‘present’s there thrown around the room, before eventually the voices grew closer as the teacher moved on to his section.
…
“..Planet Lord?”
“Here,” Planet called from next to him.
“..Spoke Eshuer?”
Silence, Spoke’s grip around his sleeves tightened an infinitesimal amount.
“Spoke Eshuer...?”
An awkward cough, and another beat of silence, but eventually the teacher just moved onto the next person, and Spoke let out an internal sigh of relief.
The actual lesson started up soon enough after that, but it mostly went through one ear and out of the other as he fell in and out of some sort of state he was reluctant to call ‘sleep’.
Eventually though, he actually seemed to finally start to properly drift off..
…
“Spoke?” Someone shook his shoulder.
Oh, come on!
Biting back a groan, he reluctantly lifted his head; purposefully a bit slow to put emphasis on the dramatics.
Planet’s antennae dipped forward a little as his own tilted a bit. “Bell rang—” It did? “—class is over, man,” he chirped.
Spoke let out a small hum in acknowledgement, sitting up the rest of the way and stretching. He grabbed his bag by the coat-loop, slowly standing up with a sort of lethargy he didn't think to disguise in the moment.
Planet didn't step out of the way, and they ended up close enough that Spoke was growing uncomfortable with the proximity.
“Are you..” he trailed off, worried eyes looking him up and down. “Are you sure that you're okay..? You're just.. You're acting off.”
Spoke blinked, freezing in place before suddenly forcing his posture straight and clearing his throat.
“Yeah! Why?” He tilted his head innocently, eyes—already large enough to basically classify as search lights—widening.
Planet finally looked away, shuffling uncomfortably on his feet as he stepped back. “..It’s nothing,” he mumbled, turning around. “We need to get to class."
“Uhuh.” Spoke walked past Planet, stopping once he'd reached the door. He shot a glance over his shoulder and flicked his tail. “You coming..?”
The alien blinked. “Uh- Yeah, yeah.” They quickly rushed over, giving him a playful nudge to break the tension as the two exited the room.
…
“What do you have next?” Spoke questioned.
Planet stretched their arms over their head. “History. We have a quiz today, should be fuuuuuun..” they said in a singsong-y tone.
Spoke snorted. “Good luck with that, bro.”
“I’ll need it,” he sighed, before turning to the voidling and lifting his fist. “I’ll seeya, dude.”
Spoke returned the gesture; giving him a firm fistbump. “Seeya.”
And with that, they gave a wave and Spoke watched as they hurried down the hall. He stopped, looking up at the ceiling to take a second to remind himself about which class exactly it was that he had next..
…
Gym.
His least favorite, but whose wasn't it?
.
.
.
He was a little late—he definitely appreciates Planet for waking him up—and ended up having to file into the back of the crowd already gathered in the middle of the room.
“You will be making up your own teams this session,” he heard the coach tell them all.
Spoke had no idea what his name was, nobody did. But he struck an uncanny resemblance to the character ‘Kratos’—especially with his tattoos—so everybody liked to call him ‘The God of War’.
Everyone pretty much immediately erupted into movement. Spoke hung back, deciding to let the teams form and give him a nice selection to look over.
He looked to the group on his left.
It was primarily composed of Lettuce, Loppezz, Spepticle, Law—his name was actually ‘Lawrence’, but everybody just called him ‘Law’ for short—Raxby, and whatever other poor souls were unfortunate enough to have been whisked away onto a team with them.
He looked to his right.
There stood almost basically all of his friends—Mapicc, Wemmbu, Zam, Parrot, Flame; to name a few—some of whom immediately noticed him and began calling out to him to join them.
“SpoOooOoOOke!” Zam waved him over, the pleats on her cream-colored sleeves shaking as she wrapped an arm around Mapicc and swayed him around to notify him of the voidling’s presence.
…
Hmm..
Spoke glanced between the two groups, putting one hand on his hip and another below his chin in a theatrical sort of manner as he wondered which side he should choose.
“I KNOW FOR A FACT YOU ARE NOT DEBATING JOINING LETTUCE’S STUPID TEAM!” the siren yelled, garnering the attention of some of the other members.
“You should join us, Spoke!” Loppezz called out, her tail flicking left to right as she giggled, “Make the right decision, join the winning side!!”
“Absolutely NOT!” Flame huffed from beside Spoke—he had no idea when he’d got there; he hadn't even noticed him walking over—and wrapped an arm around him, dragging him off with little resistance to their team.
The netherborn ended up pulling him over to their little quartet—so they liked to call themselves—and basically shoved him into them.
“Hi guys,” he greeted—once he'd straightened back up—as he looked between the three.
Flame had on basically the same thing he always did; a pair of jeans and his stupid windbreaker hoodie with fire-motifs he liked to wear everywhere, matching the blindfold tied around his face.
Wemmbu was wearing a pair of lilac—he was always very specific about the color—flared leggings and a plum waistcoat over a white ruffle-front, because he was just dramatic like that, of course.
Parrot acted like the most normal one there, but he was still wearing an outfit far too formal for a high school; a light green collared button up tucked into some dark teal pleated slacks. He looked like he was ready for a job interview.
“Hi Spoke,” the avian responded with a smile, “Glad to see that you're feeling better.”
(Spoke—naturally—assumed Mapicc had filled them in on the matter.)
“Yesss, bro,” Wemmbu huffed, giving him a firm pat on the back that launched him forwards a bit, “I had to deal with Flame all by MYSELF because you were gone!”
“D’aaaalright, bro..” Flame groaned, flicking his tail and probably rolling his eyes as he gave the dragon a light shove.
Wemmbu shoved him back, a litte harder.
Flame lifted his hand, about to repeat the pattern, but was interrupted
“Everybody line up in preparation for combat,” God of War commanded the room, walking off to the side and crossing his arms as he looked over everyone, “We will begin soon.”
“SIR, YES SIR.” Spoke gave an extremely obnoxious salute, marching off to line up next to Mapicc.
“We're gonna pulverize them,” the demon declared, throwing an arm over his shoulder and shaking him.
“Who do we think is getting outed first?” Zam questioned when she stepped closer, lowering her voice as her gaze darted around at everyone.
“Hmm..” He turned his head up at the ceiling in thought. “I think Lettuce.”
“I'm going with Pangi,” Mapicc said, before shooting a sheepish glance at the siren, “Sorry, Zam.”
“No..” She sighed. “He's great, but I have to agree..”
“I am going to begin counting down,” God of War said, very helpfully, “On one; the battle will commence.”
“Three."
“Why does he talk like we're genuinely in the army,” Mapicc whispered.
“Two.”
“I don't know,” Spoke whispered back, “I would suggest he wants to set a vibe, but I think he's actually just like that.”
“One."
The auditorium immediately erupted into chaos
Spoke screamed as a ball whipped past his head before he even had the time to register anyone running to the middle, ducking down and putting his hands over his skull like a bomb just went off.
“STAND UP! STAND UP!! MOVE!!!” Parrot barked out from somewhere around him.
Spoke immediately listened, scampering back to his feet just as a ball slammed against the ground where he once sat.
“WHAT THE HELL?!"
Most of the proceeding match for Spoke operated with him doing a very healthy mix of both screaming and dodging, some at the same time. He somehow did not manage to get a ball, not even once.
“I’M OUT OF AMMO,” Raxby suddenly yelled, turning around to look back at his teammates from where he stood at the front lines.
Wemmbu seized the moment, and made sure to aim his shot with precision before throwing his arm forward and letting it fly.
…
Thunmk!
The ball hit Raxby square on the back of the head, and he immediately went down like he'd just been hit with a mace or something.. the *drama.
“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAXBYYYYYYY!” Law wailed, reaching out theatrically for his fallen brother.
“I did not hit you THAT hard!!” Wemmbu complained loudly.
“Raxby.”
Everyone froze.
God of War had said it in his normal tone of voice, but unfortunately for everyone his normal tone of voice was something that could only be compared to that of the sound a glacier made when it collapsed in the middle of the sea.
“If you do not get up in the next five seconds, I will feed you to the wolves.”
Translation; he was threatening to write him up.
Raxby shot up in an instant, fleeing off of the court in a matter of milliseconds to sit obediently against the wall alongside everybody else who'd been outed.
Nobody moved for what felt like the longest time; just silently staring at each other.
God of War raised a brow. “Did I say we were taking a break? There is no pause in combat.”
Well, that was reason enough, and everybody immediately erupted back into movement.
Spoke yelped as a ball flew past his head with so much speed he was convinced it could've killed him. “SOMEBODY TAKE OUT OROBOROS,” he shrieked, grabbing his horns as he dodged, “I’M GONNA DIE!!!”
“I GOOOOT YOU,” Flame yelled back, immediately launching a ball across the court.
The creeper let out a yelp as it hit and subsequently bounced off his forehead, knocking him to the ground like an explosion just erupted. “OOOOWWW??” he whined, scrambling to his four feet and off the court like his life depended on it (it probably did, to be fair).
“FOR MY BROOOTHEEEERRRRR!” Law cried out.
For a single heartbeat, the world seemed to take a pause so dramatic that it was movie-level.
He winded his arm back, and launched the dodgeball with full force across the auditorium.
…
He missed.
Horribly.
“HOOOOOOWWWWWW!?!?” Flame wept, keeling over in on himself from how hard he was laughing.
Lettuce took this as an opportunity of battle, and immediately landed a hit square on his arm.
“FLAME! YOU DUMBASS!” Wemmbu screeched, ducking under a ball that came from void knows where.
The netherborn couldn't care less, dragging himself off to the sidelines still snickering and probably in near tears behind his blindfold.
“Well there goes probably our best hope,” Zam mumbled, the fins on the side of her head shrinking back a little as she sighed.
“I’m putting my bets on Mapes'!” Spoke declared happily.
Wemmbu huffed, borderline sulking. “I can't believe I'm not the second choice.. “
“HAH! Suck it, lizard-boy!!” Mapicc sneered, winding up and immediately knocking Spepticle out of the game with a hit to his neck.
“IT FEELS LIKE I JUST GOT HIT WITH A GUILLOTINE,” he groaned, rubbing at his neck.
“GUYS!! LOCK THE FUCK IN!!!" Loppezz screamed, her purple and blue ears flattening against her hair in a mix of concentration and way too much stress for a game of high school dodgeball.
Zam let out a yelp as she was immediately pelted with a ball.
“Pangi you TRAITOR!” she cried, pointing a finger as she walked off the court.
“I’M SORRY!” the pangolin yelled back, a very apologetic look on his face, “FORGIVE ME!"
Spoke laughed, taking a hard step to the left, and-
..Ow!
Spoke audibly winced before he had a chance to bite his tongue. He glanced around, but thankfully it seemed that nobody had noticed.
His leg—the one he'd injured prior—hurt though, to such an extent he didn't think he could ignore it enough to push through all the physical activity going on.
How can he get out of this..
He watched Parrot screech as a ball just barely missed him, the feathers on his wings fluttering from the sheer velocity that it caused when it passed.
A conniving smile inched across his face.
“PROTECT THE KIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNG!!” Spoke cheered, running to the right and swan diving in front of an incoming ball.
It slammed into his chest with a THUNK, and the noise he made when he inevitably fell to the squeaky gym floor was what he'd like to call one of the best sounds he's ever heard.
“THAT WASN'T EVEN ANYWHERE NEAR ME?!” Parrot shrieked, doing his best to hug his massive wings tight to his body.
Spoke let out a cackle as he went over to the wall and slumped down next to Mapicc and Zam.
The demon lifted an elbow, jabbing him in the rib. “Nice one, bro," he joked.
He swatted his arm away playfully. "I know, I know, I'm great.” He grinned.
Zam sighed dramatically. “I am never underestimating Pangi ever again,” she grumbled, and Spoke barked out another laugh.
…
The war really did seem to be in their favor for the most part, but in the end? Lettuce’s team had managed to win by some voidforsaken miracle. Seriously, nobody knew how it happened, but it did.
“Parrot survived the longest, this is why he's the best,” Spoke declared, hugging the avian’s arm as he leaned basically all of his weight on him and forced him to help keep him upright.
“I literally cannot believe you,” Wemmbu scoffed and flicked his bare knee with the tip of his tail. Spoke let out a surprised yelp and began to dramatically cradle his joint one-legged.
Parrot just looked between them and sighed, much like he was an overworked single father of two. Which in retrospect, isn't actually that far off.
“I still can't believe LETTUCE won,” Flame grumbled, “We lost to a guy named after a vegetable.”
Spoke let out a laugh and leaned forward.
“He'll get what he deserves, don't worry.” He smiled.
All three of them paused.
“..Literally what is that supposed to mean, bro?” Flame deadpanned.
The voidling made a point of looking around, before stepping a little closer and lowering his voice.
“I’ve been getting Leo to steal me parts from the robotics class,” he whispered.
“..That still doesn't explain what you mean,” Wemmbu whispered back.
Spoke grinned. “I’m going to put it in his locker when I'm done.”
“Put.. what in his locker..? ..You haven't told us what you're making,” Parrot mumbled nervously.
He ‘responded’ by staring.
“Spoke." Flame put his hands on his shoulders. “What are you going to make?”
RIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNGGGG
“Oh! Sorry, class is over! Gotta get going, I'll see you later, my friends!" Spoke chimed, ignoring some very vocal protests as he ducked out from under Flame’s grasp and promptly fled from the room
…
While he was running through the halls from people who weren't even bothering to chase him (they clearly knew they were beat), he turned a tight corner and ended up barreling straight into somebody.
Spoke let out a pitched yelp when he fell back hard on his left leg, his brows knitting together and his eyes squeezing shut in a look of pain.
It only lasted a second though, and he quickly forced himself to take on a more neutral expression as he looked up at the person he'd ran into.
It was Clown, of whom was somehow still standing upright like the actual tank of a man he was, unlike Spoke obviously. Next to him were two of his friends: Branzy and Ferre.
They had all caught the look on his face before it vanished.
“Are yo-” Branzy tried to ask.
“SORRY!” Spoke interrupted, immediately hopping up to his feet and forcing his foot to the ground despite the ache.
Ferre reached out instinctively. “Hold up, your le-”
“-IS FINE,” he finished for him, grabbing his discarded backpack and continuing to flee down the hall, “SORRY AGAIN, BYE!”
He didn't look back, only slowing his pace after he had made it to one of the more secluded areas by one of the stairwells.
He let out a sigh and leaned against the railing, dropping his facade as he slowly lowered himself down until he was sitting on one of the stairs.
Spoke’s still a bit unsure about just how long he was there for, cradling his knee and trying to wait out the pain, but he knew he messed up when he heard the bell chime yet again.
Well, this might be the first time he's ever skipped class. ..Unintentionally, of course.
He stifled a groan, putting most of his weight on his right side as he carefully stood back up with the help of the handlebar.
Tentatively, he put his foot on the ground. And when he didn't feel an excruciating shot of pain fly up his leg, he decided that he was prooooobably okay..
Luckily, the class he had missed—math—didn't have anybody he knew personally in it, so he didn't have to worry about being questioned as he made his way down to the cafeteria.
…
It wasn't a long walk, and Spoke was actually one of the first people to even enter the place.
He looked over at the food counter, and ignored it in favor of going to one of the tables.
..He wouldn't be able to afford it, he knew that already.
Sitting down, he swung his bag over the bench and set it on the ground between his legs, curling his tail close by his side to keep it out of the way.
…
“Yo, Spoke,” Wemmbu greeted, dropping a plate of food down on the table as he sat next to the voidling.
“Hey,” he hummed, scooching over a bit to make more room (there was already plenty).
“..You're not hungry?” he asked tentatively, glancing back at the court.
“Nah,” he lied with a shrug.
Wemmbu leaned back a bit. “Ookay,” he said, sighing.
He lifted his elbow, setting it on the table and leaning into his hand.
“Y’know, Minute was worried about you when I told him you haven't been showing up,” the dragon hummed, tapping the talons on the ends of his wings against the vinyl floor.
“Bro,” Spoke scoffed, “Why is your dad worried about me?”
Wemmbu grinned. “You're literally his second son, bro. If he could, he'd adopt you. I think he genuinely regrets not getting to you first before your parents.”
Spoke barked out a brief laugh, but his energy died down a bit as Wemmbu continued.
“I tried messaging you, y’know.” He gave him a little side glance from where he sat, slit-thin pupils dilating the brief moment they made eye contact. “So did Rose and Mapicc. I don't know if they mentioned it to you.”
The voidling shifted awkwardly under his gaze, turning to look down at his hands in his lap and begin fiddling with his fingers. Maybe Mapicc didn't mention that part.
“I’m sorry," he mumbled, “My phone’s been broken.”
“Oh?” Wemmbu turned his body to face him. “What happened?”
Spoke sighed. “I dropped it on a curb,” he admitted, “It shattered the screen and it won't turn on now."
“Can I see?”
“Uhhh sure..”
He bent down to unzip his bag, reaching into one of the inner pockets and pulling out his broken device.
Wemmbu held out a hand, so Spoke passed it on.
“Damn, dude,” he muttered, “You sure you didn't drop a brick on it, or something?”
Spoke laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sure.”
The dragon stared at it for a little longer, before suddenly pocketing it.
“I'll get it fixed for you,” he announced.
“H-hwhea?” Spoke stammered, “Dude- no! That's too expensi-”
“Wewawewawewa!" He plugged his ears. “Can't hear you, I'm fixing it!”
Spoke tripped up over his words a little more, before making an attempt to reach out and maybe grab it back himself.
Wemmbu immediately caught his hand. “Nuh-uh, not happening."
“Brooo,” he groaned, slumping his head against the table dramatically as Wemmbu grinned.
“Why is he sulking?” Parrot suddenly asked as he came over, sitting down on the other side of Spoke and automatically draping a wing over him.
“He's being ridiculous about people spending money on him again,” he hummed, quickly following up with a subject change, “Where’s Flame?”
Parrot sighed. “He's with Mane and their buddies,” he informed, “I think they went out for lunch.”
“High schoolers can do that?” Spoke mumbled against the table, turning his head a little so he could eye Parrot, of whom only offered a shrug.
A pause.
“..Are you not eating…?” he asked tentatively.
“He ate earlier,” Wemmbu answered for him, and the voidling gave him a subtle nudge as a thank you.
...
Eventually, a couple more of their friends finally showed up at the table, and by the end it was composed of the three of them plus: Jumper, Planet, Zam, and Mapicc.
They didn't really talk about anything of much importance, mostly just whatever random bullshit came to their minds.
Spoke slouched against his palm, yawning. In his peripheral; he could see Planet doing a very bad job at disguising a stare from across the table, but he tried his best to ignore it.
Mapicc leaned forward on his elbows.
“Planet, are you suuure that you and Boosfer aren't related?”
They flinched a little—maybe surprised at being addressed?—and finally looked away from Spoke, taking a second to process what he'd asked. “..Why?” they said carefully.
“Because you're both aliens.”
“Mapicc, that's racist,” Jumper deadpanned, not even glancing up from her food.
Spoke let out a snort, his hand dropping against the table as he did.
Zam tilted her head a little. “Spoke,” she began, “Between you and Mapicc, who would win in a fight?”
The voidling scoffed, crossing his arms. “Me, obviously.”
Wemmbu whipped his head around so fast that Spoke was a little worried he might get a headache. “Are we deadass??” he coughed around his food; mouth still full.
Spoke glared. “I literally have height on him!” he insisted.
Mapicc laughed loudly. “One, we're the same height. Two, you’re literally wearing platforms—” A loud gasp of disbelief. “—and three, I’ve also already won every single time we have fought so far.”
“’So far’,” Spoke repeated, pointing, “You admit I have a chance!!”
The demon gave him a kick from under the table. “In. Your. Dreams,” he sneered.
“You guys shouldn't even be fighting each other in the first place,” Parrot sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
Jumper laughed as she finally looked up. “Don't worry,” she hummed, “It's nothing like you think. Mapicc goes for a headlock and Spoke just runs away until he's tackled or something.”
“That's not truuuuuuuuue..” he grumped.
Mapicc pressed his palms against the table as he stood. “Oh yeah?”
Spoke yelped loudly, garnering the attention of people at the nearby tables as he flew out of his seat and basically leaped back a good 3-feet.
“That's what I thought!” he huffed, sitting back down and crossing his arms, clearly very pleased with himself.
“Spoke, sit back down,” Parrot groaned, patting the bench like someone trying to convince their restless child to settle down.
Grumbling dramatically, he tentatively made his way back over, and immediately erupted into interviewing Planet about his antennae.
They groaned. “It's not like echolocation, Spoke, not even close.” They put their head in their palm, shielding their face a little as they reluctantly continued, “It's.. more like how an insect’s works..”
Mapicc snorted. “Yeah? Okay, bug-boy.”
Planet slumped forward against the table, letting out a small, pathetic—albeit fake—whine, much to Zam’s sympathy.
“Maaaaapiiiiiiic,” she cried, “Don't call him that!!”
The remainder of their lunch went on much the same, until the bell rang again and they all had to drag themselves off to their respective lectures.
.
.
.
The rest of the day mostly went by in a blur.
Spoke’s last few classes—in which nothing of much interest occurred—were finally over, as was school, and when he stepped outside; it was sprinkling out.
“We're gonna head over to Planet’s,” Mapicc said, with a nod towards the teen in question, “You coming?”
Spoke already knew his answer, but he took a second to respond to act like he was thinking about it, before ultimately shaking his head.
“Nah,” he hummed timidly, glancing away, “Not today, sorry.”
Planet offered a smile. “No worries, man,” they reassured, “We'll see you tomorrow, yeah?”
“Don't flake again.” Mapicc pointed. His tone was joking, but a real sense of worry flashed behind his eyes.
Spoke ignored it.
“I woooooon’t,” he groaned, waving them off, “Have fun or whatever, bye.”
“Seeya."
He watched them walk away, before turning on his heel and beginning down the sidewalk.
…
“SPOKE!"
He stopped in his tracks, craning his neck to shoot a glance over his shoulder.
Rose was waving dramatically and running towards him, wings fluttering in the wind behind her. Wemmbu was with her, of whom was—in comparison—taking his time chatting away with a familiar angel by his side: Eggchan. He was pretty easy to identify, considering he was the only person who made the habit of going to school in a literal suit.
When Rose finally reached him, she keeled over theatrically with her hands on her knees.
Spoke stared at her.
She tilted her head up and stared back.
“Hi Rose,” he chirped.
She shot up. “Spoke!”
The voidling angled his head to catch a glimpse of the pair behind her, watching as they finally made their way over.
“What's up?” he questioned once they'd finally made it.
Wemmbu shrugged. “We’re gonna go grab a bite to eat, wanted to see if you’d be up to join us,” he said.
Spoke frowned and shot a glance back at his bag.
“..Sorry.” He bit back a wince as Rose shrunk back in disappointment, opting to hide his embarrassment by looking away. “I don't have enough money on me right now.”
Rose perked back up, her wings flicking as she scoffed and crossed her arms. “We'll pay for you, Spoke,” she retorted, “It's not a big deal!”
“I don't wanna m-”
“You're not making us do anything,” Wemmbu interrupted, “Seriously.”
“It's not like we're poor or anything. I mean, I think the amount of meals I've bought him—” He gestured over at Egg, grinning. “—is proof enough of that.”
“HEY!" the angel suddenly shouted, breaking out of whatever staring contest he was having against the scenery, “Why am I catching strays?!”
Wemmbu reached over and covered his mouth with one of his hands, ignoring the indignant sputters of his friend as he tried to pry his fingers away. “You can always just pay us back later, bro.”
“I can't.” Is what Spoke wanted to say, but instead; “..Fine,” he sighed.
Rose pumped a fist in the air. “Awesome!” she cheered, a wide grin on her face, and the group started walking.
“Where are we going?” he asked, tilting his head.
“This little café down by the strip-mall,” Egg explained, “I went there last week and they have really good pastries.”
Wemmbu rolled his eyes. “He's been yapping my ears off for days now,” he complained.
Egg huffed, stepping closer to Wemmbu to pinch one of his ears, who in turn yelped; wings flaring out to his sides in surprise. He barely just missed Rose, but ended up whacking Spoke upside the head.
“OW??”
“EGG!” Wemmbu shrieked, reaching out to grab his arm but ultimately failing when he fled to hide behind the faerie.
Rose craned her neck to stare back at the angel, a beat of silence; before they both immediately burst out in giggles. Even Spoke—who was cradling his face—started snickering.
Wemmbu groaned dramatically. “If his nose is broken, you're paying for his hospital bills,” he demanded, throwing his arms over Spoke from behind and pulling him close as he wrapped his wings around him.
Egg clasped his hands together in mock prayer. “Pleeeeassseee have insurance, bro..” he whined, “I am way too broke for this…"
Spoke laughed, dropping his hands to reach over and grab Wemmbu’s arms, attempting to pry them off of himself. He made a point of sticking to him like glue for a couple moments more; but eventually gave in and let him go. (a peak game btw, hello??)
…
Soon enough, the four of them finally made it to the oh-so infamous café. Spoke turned his gaze up to the sign overhanging the awning as they approached: ‘Flurry-Fall Elixirs’… Whatever that meant.
Egg swung the door open, holding it ajar as the group to enter. One of the workers at the counter—she looked like a fox hybrid; fluffy white ears poking up out of her equally fluffy platinum hair—looked up as the bell above the entry rang. “Welcome in!” she called out, giving a wave with her elbow (her hands were preoccupied with cleaning a mug).
The place was nice, it had a cozy-snowy sort of theme going on, which felt a bit out of the norm considering they were in late summer.
They hung back from the counter for the moment, looking up at the menu and discussing amongst themselves.
“What do we want to eat?” Rose started, crossing her arms.
"I'm just gonna get a drink, I’m not hungry,” Spoke waved off.
Wemmbu tilted his head. “Are you sure..?” he asked tentatively, “You didn't eat anything at lunch today.”
“You didn't?!” Rose exclaimed, whipping around, “Spoke! You need to get something!!”
He threw his hands up, shaking his head. “Guys. I’m fine, seriously. Okay??”
Maybe his tone of voice was harsher than intended, maybe they thought they probably shouldn't start this in the middle of a café, maybe they just realized there was no point in arguing.
…
Maybe they were just tired of arguing with him.
Whatever the case, they dropped it surprisingly quickly, much to Spoke’s relief.
He quickly decided what he wanted, passing the information on to Wemmbu before tuning out most of their chatter. Once they'd all finally made up their minds and placed their orders; Egg began to make his way over to one of the booths. So naturally the rest of the group followed suit. Spoke and Rose ended up on one side, and Egg and Wemmbu on the other.
…
Spoke leaned forward on his palms. “Egg,” he began, “Why don't you get a monocle?”
Egg blinked as he looked up. “..Huh?”
Spoke pointed at his face; at the white wrapping covering one side of it.
“You have one eye,” he continued, “Why don't you get a monocle.”
Egg sat up a little, a look of thoughtful contemplation coming across his face.
Wemmbu immediately groaned
“Bro,” he complained, “Do NOT edge him on, he does NOT need a monocle.”
“I don't know, bro,” Egg hummed, “Imagine it with the suit.” He held his hand up, making a circle with his fingers over his eye. “Might be tuff.”
Rose giggled. “Yeah, I vote monocle,” she agreed.
Wemmbu reached over and threw his arms around Egg, pulling him close and forcing him to look away much to his muffled disagreement. “DON'T. ENCOURAGE. HIM.”
That's when the drinks arrived; albeit before the food did.
A waiter actually brought them over, which Spoke did not think was something cafés typically did, but he wasn't complaining.
Egg ended up being the only one who actually got a coffee. A latte, to be specific. Wemmbu ordered a jasmine green tea—because he's fancy like that, we've established this already—and Rose and Spoke got milkshakes; banana and strawberry respectively.
Spoke inhaled his almost immediately, much to the dismay of his friends.
“YOU'RE GOING TO CHOKE,” Wemmbu scolded, leaning forward across the table.
Spoke made some sort of a noise meant to vaguely translate to something like ”Nuh-uh”.
Wemmbu’s gaze narrowed as his eyes darted to look behind Spoke. He suddenly lifted a talon, pointing it out with intended, unspoken threat. “DON'T.”
Spoke froze. Slowly, he craned his neck to look to his side.
Rose was caught red-handed, her outsplayed palm hovering inches away from Spoke’s back; she was readying herself to probably give him a firm whack while his mouth was still full.
The voidling quickly swallowed the rest of his drink, pulling back and putting his hand over his heart as he gasped dramatically. “ROSE,” he said, exasperated, “How DARE you do exactly what I would do if I were you??”
She giggled, tilting her head innocently. “I have no idea what you're talking about," she sang.
...
Their actual food didn't actually take that long to arrive in the end.
Wemmbu had gotten a plate of macarons, Rose two lemon cakes, and Egg a slice of tiramisu.
Spoke made a point to very slowly reach over to Wemmbu’s plate from across the table, delicately picking up one of the macarons like it was some kind of prized jewel.
“So much for not being hungry,” the dragon teased, but let him steal one anyway.
They sat there for a while—maybe an hour—and nothing really happened. They mostly just chatted, it was nice.
But everything has to end eventually.
...
“I wanna get home before the rain picks up,” Rose hummed as she shot a glance out the window. She stood up, grabbing her bag and whatever trash from her meal. “Dad will get worried if I don't.”
“TELL HIM AND BECKY I SAID HI!!” Spoke cupped his hands around his mouth, yelling despite her being right next to them.
Some of the other customers looked over in surprise, but she didn't care. “I WILL!!!” she yelled back, grinning as she turned around. “Bye guys! Hope you can get your phone fixed, Spoke!”
“Farewell, Rose.” Egg waved, and Wemmbu muffled something similar around the rest of his drink that he was currently chugging.
The three watched as she walked off, only stopping to cast one last goodbye behind herself before opening the door to the café and disappearing to the sound of the chime.
Wemmbu set his cup down with a light clink, sighing as nudged Egg with his elbow. “We should get going too,” he said, “I have to go home and make sure the girls haven't torn the place up, anyways.”
‘The girls’ were referring to Gambit and Crucible; his dogs. They were a pair of samoyeds, to be more specific. Spoke, personally, had always found their names far too ‘hardcore’ for the big, fluffy, and lovable beasts they actually are.
“Is Minute not watching them?” Spoke asked, absentmindedly picking at the skin around his claws.
Wemmbu shook his head. “Nah, he's working late tonight,” he explained, “So they've been alone all day.”
Spoke gave an understanding nod. “Aah, okay. Well, I'll see you guys later, then.”
Egg slid himself out of the booth, grabbing his messenger bag as Wemmbu followed behind. The angel had already began to turn around and walk to the door, but Wemmbu paused by the table.
“..Are you sure you don't wanna come back to mine tonight?” he asked quietly, his brows creasing together with worry.
“I know your parents are..” he trailed off, shooting a sort of side-glance at Egg—of whom was displaying the typical amount of silence for someone unintentionally caught up in a serious conversation that had absolutely nothing to do with him—and obviously deciding not to elaborate, “We can just haul up in my room and watch a movie, or something.”
“It’s fine,” Spoke dismissed, waving a hand, “I don't want to bother you guys.”
“You're never a bother,” Wemmbu immediately said, a very apparent frown crossing his face.
Spoke looked away. “..My parents are gonna want me back,” he decided on, scratching the back of his neck in an attempt to disguise his dishonesty.
We've already established that his parents had kicked him out ages ago now, after all, and of course that he's neglected to tell anyone that.
The dragon’s amethyst eyes narrowed, but if he wanted to accuse him of something; he bit his tongue.
“Want us to walk you home?" he offered instead.
Spoke immediately shook his head. “Nah, it's okay.” he replied, forcing a smile, “Give the girls some pets for me, will you?”
“..Alright,” he finally sighed, flicking his tail and grabbing Egg’s arm. “I need to go ahead and get this chungie home-” A quiet ‘bro’. “-then, I guess we'll see you tomorrow.”
“Uhuh.” He nodded. “Bye, guys.”
“Goodbye, Spoke.” Egg gave a meek wave, the ends of his wings furling inwards as he offered a reassuring smile for some reason Spoke wasn't privy to.
The voidling gave one last little hum in acknowledgement, opening his bag and beginning to riffle through it in an attempt to appear busy; just so he could stall until they were out of sight and didn't question why he was hanging back.
He listened as the door chimed and fell shut. When he was sure they were gone; all of his energy seemed to vanish in an instant and he kind of just deflated. He slouched his head into his hands and let out a sigh, before moving them to rub tiredly at his eyes.
“I need to figure something out,” he mumbled quietly to nobody but himself, slowly but finally standing up and slinging his backpack over his shoulder as he made his way out of the café.
.
.
.
Spoke had stood there under the awning well after everyone had left, just listening and watching as droplets of rain from the ever-darkening weather slammed against the cloth and slid off and onto the brick walkway below.
“..I hate the rain..” he eventually muttered aloud with a sigh.
…
“It could be worse,” someone he didn't know replied, causing him to jump and quickly look around before his gaze finally landed on the person in question.
Sitting at a table next to him was a very peeved enderman, one slouched over in their chair and radiating with discontent. A folded up umbrella sat loosely by their side, adding to the context clues of how they were obviously unwilling to wade into the rain at its current velocity.
He couldn't bite back his laugh fast enough. “Yeah, I guess it could,” he agreed.
They tilted their head a little, their slim purple eyes flicking up and down as they looked him over.
“..What are you?” they asked bluntly.
Spoke stared.
“...”
They stared.
“..."
The enderman’s eyes suddenly widened.
“Oh-!” They sat up, letting out an alarmed sort of warble. “Sorry- was that rude?? I just moved here from one the End Cities and-”
He cut them off with a wave of his hand.“..You're fine,” he tried to reassure, albeit looking anywhere but them. “I’m uh, a voidling, ..I think,” he mumbled.
“..A voidling? Aren't those extinct, or something?”
He looked down at himself, then back up and shrugged.
“I don't feel extinct."
Spoke didn't know much about voidlings, he was the only one he's ever met after all.
He knew that they were supposed to have all been wiped out by now, after the void had stopped spawning long enough ago that people began to forget what they even looked like. A quiet extinction; so it was said.
But that obviously couldn't have been the case. He means, here he is; sixteen and very much alive and breathing and most importantly not extinct.
Spoke’s honestly kind of surprised he wasn't taken in by the government or something, or kidnapped and sold for profit like some exotic animal, but maybe that was just the paranoia of one too many stories feeding into his nightmares, or maybe the fact that he lived in an insanely tight-knit town helped keep his existence off the radar.
Whatever the case, when he had been found—wherever he ended up spawning—he was promptly put into the system, and subsequently adopted out to his parents.
…
That's what they had told him, at least.
…
Anyways. There is one thing he did know about voidlings.. Supposedly, they're meant to have powers.
What kinds of powers, one might ask? Well! Spoke had absolutely no idea. But he did know that he didn't have any ‘powers’ or junk, so he mostly ended with just chalking the idea up to false legend.
“I guess not,” the enderman hummed thoughtfully, resting their chin on their palm.
Spoke gave a small nod as he shuffled side to side on his feet, a little uncomfortable under their stare. “..I hope the rain clears up soon for you,” he offered half-heartedly before turning away.
He finally decided to zip up his jacket, pulling the hood over his head and making sure to slot his horns into the cut outs (cut outs that probably let rain soak through into his hair anyways, but the thought counts he guesses).
And with a meek farewell from the endling, he bit back any more grievances and trudged forth and into the storm.
…
Spoke walked mostly without much aim for a while, largely eying the areas he passed with for any good place he could maybe hunker down for the night out of the weather; not exactly spotting anywhere ideal.
He did spot a couple of nooks where roof met wall in the foundation, but Spoke had certainly learned his lesson after the last time he'd decided to squeeze himself into a tedious little cranny..
Nails digging into the palms of his hands, his gaze darted from building to building, before suddenly freezing on one in particular. His pace slowed until eventually came to a firm halt directly in front of the door.
…
As Spoke stared up at the bakery, he was beginning to regret more and more the fact that he hadn't ordered any food earlier.
..He had a little bit of cash.. He was unsure how much, and he had skipped lunch earlier at school because of that and the fact he needed to save it for his phone.
But.. Wemmbu was taking care of that now, and he is hungry, so it can't hurt, right?
The bell above the door chimed in announcement as he pushed it open, the woman at the front counter—a netherborn, Spoke thinks that she was maybe a wither-skeleton—looked up immediately from where she was wiping down the counter.
“Welcome in, dear,” she greeted—rolling her words in a such a drawl that basically confirmed where she was from had he not already put two and two together—immediately putting on (what he assumed to be) a sickly-sweet ‘mom-voice’ at the sight of the teenager.
“..Hi,” he replied meekly, ducking his head a little before walking up to one of the display stands at the counter.
He grabbed at his wet sleeve, fighting the urge to wring it out inside in the store by instead occupying his brain with looking between the various pastries and such.
“...What's that..” he mumbled to no one in particular, but the woman came over anyway.
“It's a fraisier,” she hummed, reaching in with a bony hand on her side to rotate the display plate a little and give him a better look, “It's basically just a strawberry cake. It’s mostly made of an almond sponge cake and meringue.”
Spoke’s eyes lit up—more than they already were of course—at the mention of strawberries and his tail began a light wag, he could see the way the baker smiled in his peripheral at his reaction.
He paused, however, once he laid eyes on the price.
…
Yeah, there's no way he'd be able to afford that.
Shrinking a bit in on himself, he turned his head a little before his gaze landed on some of the more simple baked goods.
“Can I get that?” He pointed.
The woman paused, and Spoke thinks that if she had any visible eyes; they'd be looking a bit confused. Alas, he could still feel her stare through the blank sockets of her striped skull.
“The.. loaf of bread?” she asked, leaning forward over the counter a little.
He nodded, a bit tentative. “..Yes,” he confirmed.
“Are you sure?" she questioned again, probably noticing his hesitation as she lingered near the fraisier.
He only nodded once more, digging his claws into the fabric on the hem of his jacket.
She didn't reply this time, only moving over to the display and pulling out one of the warm, freshly baked loaves from one of the stands.
She walked back over to the cash register, and so he followed, unzipping his bag as he did so.
…
Spoke frowned as he looked through it, finding a surprisingly severe lack of cash in comparison to the price.. he knew he was starved for cash but he hadn't realized he was that poor.
The baker must've put two and two together. “..It’s on the house, honey,” she said after a moment, a strained smile screaming with pity plastered atop her face.
“Thank you, sorry..” he mumbled, looking down at his shoes as the heat of embarrassment creeped up his neck, forcing his tail to keep from curling inwards as he took the baked-good from her hands.
“Get home safe, sweetie, before the rain gets worse.”
He gave a small nod and muttered another quick apology as he left, having to stop himself from flat-out running out of the bakery by instead opting for a very speedy walk.
When the door finally shut behind him, he let out an exasperated sigh and quickly moved away from the front windows.
His pace slowed as he upwrapped the bread, tearing it in some places with no real care and pulling the plastic down just enough he could eat while still keeping it protected from the rain.
“....can’t believe...eating a loaf of bread..like some medieval peasant….” he grumbled between bites, making his way down the block with no real motive.
CKAW!
Spoke stopped in his tracks.
…
…
He started moving again.
CWAA!
He spun on his heel towards the direction of the sound, looking around dramatically but..
..nothing.
..Caaaw.
Slowly, he looked up, meeting the very unimpressed gaze of an extremely large.. crow…?
“..Hi?"
The crow stared at him.
Caw.
He stared back.
They stayed like that for a couple of seconds, before he finally raised a brow in thought.
“What's wrong?” he asked.
The bird suddenly perked up, letting out a couple more caws as it darted left and right on the branch where it stood, throwing its head down at the ground in a sort of headbang.
Spoke followed its gaze down to this ditch just out of view that sat below the tree, and he broke off from the sidewalk to get a better look. He got down on his knees, carefully ebbing his way closer to the edge until he could peer over.
…
Trapped against the water rushing through the dip was another—albeit much smaller—crow. The only reason it hadn't been swept away yet was the fact that its body was stuck halfway-deep in a pocket of mud, effectively anchoring it in place.
Three more birds sat around the bank. They were already staring up at Spoke before he himself had even looked over the ledge in the first place, creepy..
After what seemed like forever, they all suddenly looked away at the same time. One crept closer to the water, trying to reach out with its beak to its trapped friend, only to be forced to jump back when the waves threatened to pull it in as well.
Spoke froze for a moment, before slowly rewrapping his bread and setting it aside. Quickly, he pulled off his shoes and socks and climbed down into the ditch (considering he was wearing shorts, he didn't really have any pant-legs to fold up).
Ignoring the water splashing up his ankles, he reached down and carefully scooped up the tiny bird.
The others immediately took off, cawing and flying around above his head like madmen. He was afraid they might have started trying to attack him, but was relieved when he realized they weren't.
He cradled the crow in the nook of his arm as he used the other to heave himself back up, letting his legs hang over the ledge as he set the tiny thing in his lap and began looking it over.
“..So muddy,” he sighed, beginning to wring off some of the thicker clumps of dirt sticking to its feathers.
When he thought his job was complete, he set the bird down on the pavement and grabbed his shoes before backing off.
The bigger one from before landed a few ways away and looked up at him, letting out a caw that Spoke liked to think meant ’Thank you’.
So naturally; “You're welcome,” he responded in turn.
He smiled as the tiny one let out a contempt warble, shaking itself and holding its damp wings out to the side as the four other birds crowded around it and began to nip at its feathers.
Kneeling down, he unwrapped the loaf and broke off about a quarter, crumbling it up in his hand and letting the pieces fall to the floor.
The crows paused and stared at him, so he crawled back a bit to give them more room. That seemed to be satisfactory, and the birds bounded up and began picking at the crumbs.
...
Spoke kind of just sat there for a bit. He didn't have anything better to do, after all.
He noticed how one of the birds took off at one point, but didn't pay any mind to it until eventually more of them seemed to start to show up.
So naturally, he got up and broke off more bread.
And soon enough, what Spoke thinks may have been hundreds—but what was probably more accurate to be dozens—of birds crowded the sidewalk, earning him a couple of looks ranging from curious to judging from passerbys in the rain.
He ignored them.. tried to, at least. He was never good with keeping his nerves in check when it came to what people thought about him.
Narrowing his eyes, he crouched down again so that he was at the same level with the crows and tilted his head.
“You're like tiny little void birds,” he muttered quietly, admiring their white pupiless eyes—that he hadn't noticed before—from afar. They reminded him a lot of his own, almost eerily so.
One of the crows bounded up to him and craned its head back so that it was looking up at him. It stared for a moment, before letting out a loud CAW right in his face.
Spoke grinned, then lifted a hand and booped its beak with the tip of his claw.
The bird fluttered back with a squack that Spoke interpreted to be very offended, giving him a mean side-eye before turning away to go back to nibbling on some of the bread.
He looked down at the other half of the loaf in his hand, then back at the cacophony of avians that he swore were multiplying by the second.
“..I wasn't all that hungry anyways," he hummed, setting the rest of the bread down on the ground and backing away as he stuffed the plastic wrapping into his pocket.
He watched as the birds bounced up to it, but they paused. They looked at him, and if Spoke didn't know any better; he would've thought they were hesitating.
“Go on.” He made a shooing motion with his hand, turning around and beginning to walk away.
When he spared a glance back, he could see as they began to meticulously break off pieces of the loaf, passing them around and such like an organized little system.
He let out a quiet huff in interest, but ultimately turned back around and began off to void knows where.
.
.
.
When Spoke curled up beneath a bench that night to shield himself from the drizzle, he didn't notice the tiny black bodies keeping an eye on him from atop the rooftops in the far distance.