Riot of Rot has always been an exciting time for hatchlings, and this year, it may be an overexciting time. It seems you can't walk two feet without tripping over a roving pack of sugar-powered pups yelling excitedly about the glory of Plegmama, and as endearing as it is, it is also the slightest bit exhausting. Needing a break from the festivities, you decide to step inside a quiet-looking circus tent...
...and into a pumpkin patch? How odd. Odder still, the pumpkins are of a vaguely familiar shape and size...
"A fine harvest, wouldn't you say?"
You succeed in not jumping out of your skin, but just barely. You could have sworn there wasn't a Tundra behind you a second ago, and you're entirely unsure how you could have missed anyone dressed so...creatively.
"Ah, where are my manners? Good evening, my dear, my name is Curio, barker of Beachrock Boardwalk, and it would be my humblest honor to welcome you on behalf of the Stupid Horse Clan to an event for the ages! ...truly, the humblest."
Curio's tail flips from one side to the other as he glances over to a Snapper hatchling chasing an Ichor Nymph in circles. It becomes eminently clear that someone drew the short straw babysitting.
"Well, as long as you're here, perhaps you could lend me--no, all of us--your kind assistance. You see, our clan has a saying: Halloween Is Forever. It's a reminder of the best of seasons, whatever the season may be. However, my dear younger brat--er, brother--has taken the idea much too literally. The moment the motto touched poor Mockfruit's naive sensitivities, they began growing pumpkins to...ahem...'catch up'."
You take a closer look at the hatchling, who is chewing toothlessly on the nymph's fuzzy tail.
"They insist on raffling all of these off, and since their vocabulary consists mainly of 'plxxxt', it has fallen on me to come to their aid. I tried to convince them that pumpkins may be delicious, but are of limited value. They will sadly not see reason, so here we are...here I am...on a lovely October night...gardening."
Mockfruit looks at you imploringly, and Curio sighs.
"Humor them, won't you? I do believe I'm going to have one of my headaches."
Moved, although you're not sure for which, you follow the hatchling in a circle and count the pumpkins. There are thirteen all told, very large, and as you're trying to place just why they look familiar...
...one jumps and twitches toward you, and there is the unmistakable sound of rustling from inside.
There is a moment of raised eyebrows and a triumphant expression from Mockfruit, and Curio gestures to his shadowy familiar before addressing you again.
"Skullduggery, get the ledgers and the tickets. I do apologize, it would seem this might be interesting after all..."
Quote:
October 6th: Don't count your pumpkins before they're hatched
It hasn't taken long for the quiet circus tent to turn into a throng of dragons eager to see the strange pumpkins and to take a ticket from Skullduggery, the faithful Ichor Nymph keeping Curio's ledgers. A few enterprising hatchlings have started selling cider and donuts, paper bats and real spiders have been festooned about, and a general air of Halloween cheer permeates the air. If you step to one side, however, you notice Curio looking unimpressed at the passionate speech of a nervous-sounding Spiral.
"I've finished t-t-t--testing the variables, and I was right, it's d-d-d-divergent evolution, each p-pumpkin is changing based on the kw--kw--qualitites of the patch it's g-growing in." Wilson gestures to a pumpkin that's begun glowing a radioactive pink. "Th-this one, f-for instance, is in dust from the Ssss-Starfall Isles. Th-the one that's cold to the t-touch has traces of Southern Icefield w-water in its leaves. D-do you understand? They're adapting t-to the soil itself!"
"Are you sure you haven't been inhaling some of that stardust, chum? Because the last time you made this much...sense, it involved you imbibing from your own cauldron--"
"Th-that was for s-s-s-SCIENCE!"
You notice Mockfruit squiggle in under the lip of the tent as Wilson and Curio argue and start digging into the pile of Impure Sacridite that has been accumulated as door prizes. They have something in their mouth, and they seems intent on burying it.
"Nnnn--never m-MIND, the point is, th-they're not just--d-do you know what mockfruit even is? It's a-anything, k-k-Curio, it can be a-anything at all, it's...unpredictable enough j-just to have an a-ambassador of it around--"
"Sir, if you mean to insult my dear brother, it will come to fisticuffs, only I am allowed to insult--"
"N-no, what I'm t-trying to say is that--"
A deep rumbling interrupts the argument, and Wilson flits away with astonishing speed and a soft groan. You turn towards the sound, and before your eyes, the wishing stones explode out and up as a pumpkin erupts out of them, bigger than the others, and, you could swear, ribbiting.
As toads rain down from the rapidly transmogrifying stones, Wilson flatly finishes his statement from his safe place hovering near the ceiling.
"...th-that if anything can be, anything can hhhh, happen. ...are you...a-all right? Anything broken?"
Curio scrabbles out from beneath a pile of toads, coughing out sacridite sparkles.
"Anything can happen on Halloween. Another good motto. One with moxie. Puts me in mind of tambourines."
"W-well, if you d-didn't even break character..."
A new prize has been added to the pumpkin patch!
Quote:
October 13th: A party without streamers?
The quiet little tent is no longer quiet or little--the Stupid Horse Clan is over a hundred strong, and with a concerted effort, enough tents have been pitched to accommodate food, games, and lodging for the growing number of dragons coming from all over Sornieth to watch the pumpkin patch evolve. Each one becomes a little more distinct by the day, and the Nature representatives of the clan have been holding talks on growth and gardening. In the mad science arena, however, one Spiral remains determined...
"So what are we doing again?"
"S-s-s-science."
"That involves us hiding under a table."
"Yes!"
Curio peers out from under the tablecloth at the pile of dirt he foolheartedly agreed to "stake out" "for science". It has been close to three quarters of an hour, and he has a soft spot for the strange little dragon, but he's starting to understand why he runs into Wilson's mate so often while foraging for herbs to soothe migraines.
"So what's gonna hatch out of that, anyway?"
"I d-don't know, that's the p-p-p--point. It's e, entirely neutral soil, perfectly equal parts, I was up all n-night mixing it. In theory it should have nnn, no b-b-b--bias toward any t, terrain. It's the c-closest to a c-c-c--control I can think of." Wilson ties his tail into a sheepshank, lashing it in agitation. "Hhhh, hopefully it'll just be a p-p-pumpkin."
"Why hopefully? I can see a tasty profit if we keep this up..."
Wilson sighs so heavily that it masks the sound of Mockfruit snuffling at the pair of dragon hindquarters sticking out from under the (truthfully inadequate) cover of the table.
"I s-swear you and M-Maxwell are cut from the s-same idiot cloth--" He coughs, blushing a little. "L-look. H, haven't you ever read sss, stories about w-wishes? The ones where they d-don't come out right?"
"Mockfruit is hardly a monkey's paw, if that's what you're implying. They put googly eyes on pinecones, do you know that? They have an entire closet full. Pinecones with googly eyes and little scarves." That part honestly bothers Curio, who doesn't notice his little brother carefully dropping a seed into his back pocket. Where on earth do they find the tiny little scarves?
"D-d-d-d--don't underestimate s-someone or something because they're--" Wilson chokes on the word, not as a stutter, but as if it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. "--different. Mockfruit is special. Unfortunately, they're also a ch-child, and ch-children don't always th-think ahead--ohGodwhat'sthatsound"
The rumbling is louder this time, more eminently noticeable, and that's because the source is Curio's vest. Watching Wilson's retreating tail, he has enough time to consider that his last meal was an apple fritter on a stick and that this is a peaceful notion to end his life on before his pocket explodes...
...into a shower of ribbons, flying up and out and all around, falling over the guests and booths and tent poles, festooning the entire event in one fell swoop. Dragons cheer and toss them back and forth in a playful impromptu ribbon fight.
Wilson untangles himself from his full-body death grip on the center pole and hovers down a bit to the center of the ribbons, where Curio and the table have been wrapped like flies in a spiderweb. He carefully retrieves a small plush pumpkin from the remains of Curio's pocket, mindful not to break it off its silky vines.
"D-do you see what I m-mean now?"
"I see you with a split lip if you don't get me down, Higgsbury."
"Exact s-same cloth..."
A new prize has been added to the pumpkin patch!
Quote:
October 19th: Does anybody want to hear me beatbox
Cider and donuts at the end of the day is becoming a habit, but it is very good cider and they are very good donuts. Plus, there's no line today--as all of Plague readies itself for a glorious week of introducing new acolytes to Plegmama, and other stalls start throwing open their doors for eager participants, the pumpkin patch is once more almost as quiet as when you first visited. Peaceful...for a moment.
"L-let me get this straight. Y-your belief is that the ssss, scientific method is...hhh, how did you put it exactly?"
"A public menace of unfathomable proportions designed for the manufacture of headaches, heartbreak, and dry cleaning bills that should be eradicated for the good of dragonkind. And, if I may expound, an idiotic and patent waste of time."
"I s-see. And to g--to g-go on with this, your idea is..."
"Logical, practical, elegant, and cutting-edge."
"Well, g-genius is often mmm, misunderstood in its time. Its t-time being now. And the g-genius being a b-b-b--box and a sss, stick."
Curio almost turns his incandescent glare on Wilson, but that would involve taking his eyes off the box trap he has set, and the last 'experiment' proved, if nothing else, that concentration is crucial. The setup is flawless in his eyes, from the pile of gems completely covering the ground underneath to the enormous pinecone dangling as bait. "And what, dare I venture, would you have done differently?"
"B-backup sss, string."
He still doesn't turn, but Curio blinks several times, slowly. "...pardon?"
Wilson gestures with one claw, drawing in the air. "The s-stick...s-sticks sometimes, b-but if you have a backup string, you can y-yank it and the box will fall anyway. L-less chance of losing bait that w-way."
It's difficult to faze a boardwalk dragon, but Wilson's ability to turn conversations ninety degrees from how they're supposed to go is, perhaps, what has kept Curio from just kicking the Spiral's tail out of the tent from venture one. He's on the verge of shooing off dignity and seeing if he can find some twine when Mockfruit's head rises from the now-thick leaves of the pumpkin patch, and their eyes lock in wonder on the pinecone.
"I'll b-be avoiding the rush, it's m-murder on my b-bad wing..."
Curio flips his tail thoughtlessly in a wave as Wilson limps hurriedly away, holding his breath as Mockfruit approaches the box. As soon as they bat at the bait the stick falls, trapping them inside, and as the rumbling starts, it's all the Tundra can do not to start salivating at the notion of what's about to be grown. A solid gem pumpkin? A pumpkin full of gems, as big as the tent itself? A new kind of gem worth even more gems? Ultra gems? He covers his head instinctively but peers out through his claws, eager to see the birth of his nest egg...
...and is, as such, the only one looking directly at the explosive, all-encompassing burst of rainbow light as it blows the box into confetti with a sound like a thousand beats being dropped. The ringing in Curio's ears stops before the flashing afterimages do, and he maintains brief hope that the cheers are for a fountain of filthy lucre before he registers the thumping bass and swirling colored lights being thrown off of an enormous pumpkin made of prisms, spinning near the top of the tent, pulsing in time with the unspeakable racket it's putting out.
"AW-HECKIN'-RIGHT ELECTROSPOOKY RAVE TIME!!!"
Wilson re-enters the tent amid a shower of glow sticks being thrown by the resident Stupid Horse Clan party dragon, nodding to the beat inelegantly, and pokes Curio's inert form.
"Go away. I'm dead."
"Y-you made Casul h-happy." He pauses and watches the dragons jumping in and out of the lights, laughing as their colors shift. "Actually you m--you made a l-lot of people happy. Isn't th-that worth more than m-money?"
"As far as legal tender goes, you'll be surprised to find that happiness is not accepted in most reputable businesses and not at all accepted in the non-reputable ones. Happiness doesn't pay for the funeral of dead people. Dead people like I am."
"C-can't take it with you."
"At least it can't get worse."
The lack of a response is deafening, and Curio cracks an eye slowly open. He's worked more spook houses than he can count, cowardice is far from his list of flaws, but something in the Spiral's good eye makes his mane stand on end.
"You get it? Because I'm dead?"
"Th-there are more things in Hhh, Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are d-dreamt of in your philosophy." Wilson looks across the garden balefully. "If you're g-going to grow l-light, you should ask y-yourself...are you willing to see what grows from the sh-shadow it casts?"
"They're just pu..." Curio trails off. 'Just pumpkins', in truth, doesn't accurately describe the situation anymore. He follows Wilson's gaze around the room--the original thirteen pumpkins are enormous and almost unrecognizable now, pulsing with blight or light or shadow or ice, and he realizes the new ones that have sprouted have been growing--mutating--even faster to keep up. "...anyway, how could it get worse? The blasted things already ruined my best waistcoat. It doesn't get worse than that."
"In p-principle, I'm inclined to agree. In practice..."
The Spiral shakes his head without finishing the thought and departs. The chill that goes down Curio's spine is, he's certain, a byproduct of the crisp wind coming in through the tent flap and nothing more. They're just pumpkins. Just...
"Plxxxt?"
Curio groans and flops back onto the ground as Mockfruit drops their pinecone prize, already be-googly-eyed and scarved, onto his face. "Go away. I'm dead."
"Plxxxxxt."
A new prize has been added to the pumpkin patch!
Quote:
October 27th: The Great Pumpkin
Over the month, it hasn't just been the inside of the circus tent changing. Since your first happenstance visit, the leaves have bloomed into vibrant colors and fallen in great drifts that hatchlings (and a fair few adults) play in, heaping them up to jump in the piles, only stopping to crunch down a few as a snack. Late harvest vegetables are on display both in shop stalls and around dragon lairs, carved or painted or simply arranged as a testament to natural beauty. Over it all, the moon has grown fat and bright, the glowing heart of Halloween. And as it mounts the sky tonight, on the eve of Riot of Rot, with the wind whipping through freshly bare leaves, you get a notion that everyone seems to be sharing...
...something is about to happen.
It's been a long week for the Stupid Horse Clan, training countless dragons to take their places in Plegmama's honored entourage, and as tradition goes, every single one is sent off loaded down with food, trinkets, and well-wishes after an enormous party the Saturday before the festival. Usually, the grand gala (or, as some put it, hootenanny) takes place in the clan's main hall, but it only seemed natural to center the festivities this year around the peculiar pumpkin patch instead. It's hard to move without bumping into a bowl of candied crickets or a keg of mead, and the representatives of Plague's sister Flight, Nature, stand proudly by delicious plants they've been growing all year, now suitable for nibbling straight off the vine. Hatchlings in homemade costumes and Pup Scout regalia speed by in blurs, between penny pitches and apple bobbing and fresh-baked cookies, or simply in great rounding laps after far exceeding their recommended daily intake of sugar.
With all the excitement, it takes a great deal of focus to find two of the three would-be musketeers of the pumpkin patch. The third is much easier, as they are...stationary.
"As m-much as I appreciate your, ah...t-taking my sssss, sentiments to heart, I c-can't say I endorse this. At all."
Curio doesn't look back at the Spiral's disapproving gaze, focusing on finding the edge of the umpteenth roll of duct tape he sto--borrowed from the clan's stores. Finding it, he pulls a length free with a sound that makes Wilson tie his tail into an agonized clover hitch, nods in satisfaction, and continues taping Mockfruit to the center tent pole.
"Plxxxx?"
"Both of you clap your traps. I have been squished, squashed, scratched, strung up, stomped down, and overall scarred by this ffff--" He coughs, remembering hatchlings are present. "--hecking...science experiment. It ends now."
Wilson shakes his head disparagingly as he untangles himself. "H-have you thought even once about Mmmm--mm--Mockfruit's feelings?"
Curio gestures to his little brother. "I made him a hat."
"It..." Wilson pauses despite himself, having been hit square in the special interest. "It i-is a very n-nice hat, I d-don't know what you did that's k-keeping it on, is th-that sss-some kind of adhesive or--"
"Oh, it's all in the contouring, haberdashery is a lost art."
"It IS I k-keep s-SAYING that--"
Mockfruit wags his tail politely as the two go on a brief but passionate rant about cranial fashion, looking around the tent and analyzing the dirt. There's a promising substrate where someone spilled their mead, but it doesn't feel quite right.
"--and they're a third generation hat-lover, so that should keep the little squirt happy until Christmas," Curio finishes triumphantly. "Ipso facto lorem ipsum, my fine frazzled friend."
Pulled out of the reverie of hats by questionable Latin, Wilson grits his teeth. "W-we aren't defined by our--h-heritage. What d-do you think it is th-they really want? What d, do you think they're really www--wishing for?"
Mockfruit's wings thump happily under roughly 138 layers of tape as their eyes fall on a potted treasure plant temporarily abandoned by its Nature attendant. Yes. Good. They tilt their head and start focusing.
"...pinecones? How should I know?"
"Y-you could ask."
As a carnival barker, Curio isn't often at a loss for words, but somehow, they don't come. He could make any number of snappy remarks about his little brother's dearth of vocabulary, but thinking about it, had it ever been needed? He's only ever really talked around Mockfruit to keep himself amused, but thinking about it, Mockfruit always listens.
"A-anyway, I'm not sss, sure what you e-even think this is g-going to do, considering th-their t, telekinesis."
Curio pauses as the conversation catches up to him and slams a big red button in his brain. "...their what."
It's already fifteen seconds too late.
While sunlight is the needed food for most plants, pumpkins have a fondness for moonlight, and the feeling is mutual. The harvest moon and Mockfruit's eyes illuminate the fronds and tendrils of the shimmering ivy as it overflows its planter, putting down runners through the dirt, the last pumpkin of the patch exploding up from the ground and not growing so much as blowing up like a balloon, from inches to feet to yards, and just as it threatens to tear open the entire tent, it bursts, and the monsters come.
"OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD WHAT IS THAT OH GOD WHAT THE F--" Curio only realizes he's the one shrieking like a hatchling at the oncoming......thing as his internal censor kicks in, and he appeases it by switching words for a collection of terrified and extended vowels. He manages to pry his eyes off the wriggling legs (so many LEGS) at the sound of Wilson crying out against the house-sized frog encroaching on him.
"B-back! G-g-g-g--get back! D-don't--"
The frog's maw opens impossibly wide, and Wilson is gone with one massive gulp.
There are dragons running and flying and screaming, the entire tent in chaos, but Curio is glued to the spot. He forces himself to take one step backward, then two, and whips around as he bumps into something dark and moaning.
"Myyyyy boooooneeesssss," the dragon wails, its skeleton cage pulsing deep violet as it tightens. "Myyyyy boooneeeeeesssss!"
Screaming simply won't do at this point. Curio is gibbering, pleading in nonsense syllables as he lurches back towards the center of the tent, and his voice elevates to falsetto as something like himself but not quite oh God where are its legs rises from behind a table and spreads wooden antlers around itself.
"I ble wyt ti'n mynd, Curio?"
It knows his name. Why does it know his name? How does it know his name?
Curio backs against the tent pole, moaning, as the creatures circle him. This is it. The final curtain call. He regrets so much, most of it based in his wallet, but thinking about his poor departed friend, he turns tearfully to his little brother. There is one last wish he can honor.
"What is it, Mocky? What is it you want? What is it you're trying to say?"
The tiny Snapper looks at the leader of the grotesqueries, the indescribable amalgam of limbs and tail and eye, and it rears up and towers over them both before leaning so close to Curio he can feel its breath on his mane as it whispers.
"Halloween is forever."
Curio whispers a question back, starting with "what the" and ending with his internal censor taking a well-needed break.
The creature rears again, and as it lands, it's tearing off its own skin, except Curio realizes far too belatedly it's not skin at all, and it is laughing fit to burst.
"HAPPY HALLOWEEN DUDE! GOTCHA GOTCHA GOTCHA!"
As a carnival barker, Curio isn't often at a loss for words, but sometimes a gesture will suffice. This will later be his excuse for fainting dead on the floor.
It takes some time for the crowds to let the costumed clanmates break character, with hatchling after hatchling demanding to be scared, chased around, or for Wilson to show off his disappearing act again, demonstrating the curiously endless properties of his emotional support dragon's mouth. At last, they make a deal that the other dragons can play with the costumes if they can have a rest, and the conspirators gather around Curio, who is on his fifth mug of cider and still not quite recovered.
"Do me a favor. The next time you want something, just...HECKING...ask."
"Chessie sorry."
"D-don't be sorry, Ch-Chester--M-Mockfruit has been asking. A-all they've been wishing f-for since they j-joined the clan is to sss, spend time with their b-big brother."
"They, like, totally adore you, dude. They wanna hang. They planted that whole pumpkin patch for you, man! So we were like HEY MOCKY DO YOU WANT HELP and they were like PLXXXT and so we helped 'cause helping is fun and I wasn't expecting a GLOWSTICK RAVE but that SO totally happened and--"
"C-Casul."
"Clapping my trap."
Curio watches Mockfruit as they run laps in and out of the pumpkins, bits of tape still stuck to their scales despite the group's concerted efforts, and his mane ruffles in shame. He had never asked for a little brother, much less a...a Mockfruit, with their strange little ways and strange little interests. It had never occurred to him that he could be one of their strange little interests.
"Hey. Bratling." He coughs, then amends himself. "...Mocky."
Mockfruit tilts their head hopefully.
"...it would be my pleasure to escort you on a night of fiendish activities known to the laydragon as the tradition of 'trick-or-treating'. Of course, you'll need a better costume than th--"
While Curio has escaped bodily harm until now, the excited tackle bruises at least two ribs. He wheezes painfully, but pats the yipping hatchling on the back.
"Plxxxxt!"
"Yeah, yeah. One caveat...might you be interested in teaching your older brother a few...tricks of the trade?"
"Plxxxxt?"
"Come with me, dear friend." Curio's eyes gleam in something between mischief and pride, thinking of his beloved spook house. He'll have to make a bigger sign to fit the name of his new business partner in. "Come under my wing, and together, we shall create such a haunt as never a dragon has laid eyes on before in all Sornieth, frights of such scale and caliber as to tear the night to ribbons with screams!"
Mockfruit tilts their head back the other way, then obediently sits under Curio's wing.
"...let's start with some card tricks. Skullduggery, stay here and mind the ledgers."
"Plxxxxt!"
Wilson watches them go. "D-do you think it'll ssss--stick?"
Doldrums yawns widely, barely awake as usual. "Iiiiii thiiiiink iiiit's mooooreeeee thaaaaan liiiiikeeeeelyyyy."
"Yeah dude," Casul chirps. "Sib power is good and strong. This one time Braxis and I were playing kick-the-melon and I totally kicked a wasp nest instead and I woulda DIED except he got me running and HE got stung like eleventy BILLION times but I made him poultices and soup and we read books together and it was great except for the excruciating pain part!"
"Th-that sounds...n-nice. I th-think." Wilson hesitates. He does believe it'll stick--he's been on the business end of not being listened to more often than he likes to consider, but the other side of the coin is knowing how it looks when someone finally understands. He saw that tonight.
There's only one thing that still bothers him.
"M-Mari..."
Mari Lwyd finishes crunching down a bite of ivy, teeth chattering as she does, and she rustles her wing bones as she turns to Wilson. "Ie?"
He coughs and attends to his mug of cider, tamping down a shiver. "N-nothing."
"Iechyd da!"
The wind whips through the leaves, of trees and ivy alike, and the moon gently nurtures Mockfruit's gifts in their pumpkin shells, and the wishes beating in every dragon's heart, ripening them from desire to reality, from dreams had to dreams made.
Halloween is a sweetness of anticipation, of creation, of taking those wishes we otherwise might pretend we don't have because we think they're too strange, too silly, too outlandish, and making them come true.
And Halloween is forever.
Four new prizes have been added to the Pumpkin Patch!
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