Loxley

Visitors to Beachrock Boardwalk would be well-advised to save a roll of quarters not just for the games at the arcade, but for the alluring machines in what would seem to be every venue--the penny press by Tock's wall of beastclan puppets, the supermarket slime dispenser on the square boundary between Hokum and Hex's magic and mischief shop, the Imperial-sized gumball machine weighing down the sagging floorboards of the Pines Theatre, dominating the concessions, each candy big enough for a Fae to sleep in. Each one is crafted with care, but the enormous capsule machines, each one tailored to catch a different eye, promising toys, candy, potions, armor, books, keys, tickets, anything the heart may be drawn to, all waiting for a token and a wish made on the turn of the crank, are the true monarchy.

Loxley governs this clockwork army with a fair hand, making sure all products are of highest quality and that new, exciting items are added to schedule. She exercises tough love on fully grown dragons who are able to plunk coins one after another into a gachapon in search of their dream prize, but there are no sharp edges for the hatchlings--the moment a sweet falls from an unprepared hand or small eyes look with tears at the Snailor Moon favorite they didn't get, one of her attendant-familiars will appear with the keys to the kingdom, letting them choose their prize, as children are far better than adults in knowing what is needed, what is wanted, what is loved. These are the fine moments, these and spending a week's profits on Scree-Ball and Whack-a-Podid just to leave the tickets for smaller claws.

Accompanied by Belden, a lizard of some renown. Mostly for champion napping, but also for being the right size to crawl up the coin slot and jiggle prizes loose. He calls it executive privilege. Lox calls it a plushie addiction. Either way, he has no shortage of mith dolls to sleep in, on, and around.

(With many, many thanks to SilverOtter of Water Gacha, from whence this beauty came~)

"The Theos? I only wish I knew where they came from! Hatchlings just love them, they love the stories, they love the colors. They'll turn their noses up at the Automatons if one drops, but the Theos...oh, I just don't know, kids are so particular. The Automaton? Oh, same theory, same basic idea, more power, can run thousands of potential narratives, thousands of stories, and the Theos just one or two, the same recordings over and over, but the Theos...they're softer. Automatons, they're all chrome. The hatchlings don't hold them like they hold a Theo. Mostly, those sell to the parents.

Their parents...yes, well, a parent's job is to find things a little creepy. A little distasteful. They frown over the spider rings made of real spiders, too, can you imagine? Top prize running in the single-ticket tier for all of April, every kid racing to get one, had to shake Belden down because the stock ran so low--here, I'll write down a card for the designers, I do adore their work, trying to get the word of mouth out, now--yes, Trinket and Taxidermy, they're wonderfully talented, they're the ones who designed the habitat pods for my slime mold dispensers, brilliant use of elementals--would you care for one? No?, perhaps another time, but as I was saying, the grown-ups, no, no, don't risk the nightmares, better to stick with a brand they know.

They don't see what it is anymore, to be a hatchling, the delight of something a little bit haunted, a little bit wrong. They're afraid of them seeing monsters in every closet already, they don't want them seeing what they shouldn't--hearing in this case, would you believe the Theos don't even have video capability--it really is astonishing, although I suppose the price point--hm, but some of the rare units do sell for--at any rate, they're choosing them. The hatchlings. They're choosing their demons."

She shakes her head, at length.

"Would that we all had that luxury, eh?

Well, the first four tokens a day are free, stop listening to a silly old lady and go find your joy! The Scree-Ball jackpot is up to 384 tickets, if you're a fair shot! I am obliged to tell you that it is called that because of the sound it makes. You may wish to pick up a pair of noise-canceling headphones--let me write you a card--my friend is a musician, and--"

You manage to avoid getting too many more business cards, but you find yourself distracted. By the time you leave, you have a mid-sized stuffed toy of inanimate nature, a handful of rubber frogs, a pocketful of penny candy, and twenty tickets you're putting toward a Battle Yo-Yo. Oh, and the lizard gave you a gumball, but you're pretty sure he licked it.