[HIATUS] The Duchess Alabonsé

Indie Fandomless OCs | Selective | 21+ mun

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They're still humanoid, but likely, the virus filled in the DNA holes with traits of the original alien species, while simultaneously re-evolving them into ape-like creatures. Quillochs are not mammals. They're not really anything Earth-like, except for colony insects... if certain insects could asexually reproduce.

Decided that they are by definition, a species. Not just hybrids. They're parasites that make world-eating venom and reproduce via shedding their quills into this. (Which is gross and they hate thinking about it in modern day.)

Their nobility is structured around this. Most quillochs are just workers, without quills. Quilled members are given prestige over commoners. Alabonsé belongs to a rare category of being quilled and venomous, and therefore a Duchess.

"Oh, it's a steampunk socie-" WRONG. Eldritch worship and quantum physics age. All their 19th century nonsense theories sound wrong but unfortunately they are correct because they live in another universe where it's all true.

The purpose of most people's existence is to toil in the fields and factories to feed the eldritch being.

99.9% of the population lives on this massive bridge and if it crumbles, they're going to die in the Void Ocean.

The last .01 percentage lives in a liminal horror where it's an endless expanse of grass and sky, also surrounded by the Void Ocean.

The Void Ocean is so toxic it's incapable of sustaining life beyond archaea and people actively fear it as the embodiment of Hell.

Everyone is well-dressed and polite because they are incredibly vain. Because in fact their ordinary human brains cannot comprehend being distorted ape-like hybrids with the great unknown.

There are maybe 3 or 4 people responsible for the continuation of the entire species. They've already been cloned at least 5 times.

They are giant fangy fuzzy things and they hate it. There is one even specialer gianter fangier fuzzier thing called The Duchess Alabonsé, who hates it even more. By now she is over 200 years old with no heirs. Everyone one step below is terrified they'll be chosen next.

There are probably millions of average quillochs who would love to be a giant fangy fuzzy thing because they're proud freaks, but since they're not nobility, it's never going to happen.

Everyone eats bones. It's just a thing.

"Podswin, what do you wager?" pepped the Lady Evergreen.

"On what, My Lady?"

Uncertain eyes watched the quilloch nearly salivating, scheming behind bottleglass lenses. From the pocket of her coat, she procured a leather ball, turning it over once for the servant. Podswin watched in silence, her expression no more enlightened than before.

"Why, I can nearly see the lawn. I can almost see the trees. I see the impression of that bird, over there," Evergreen grinned.

// If the Duchess could be described in the terms of any instrument, it would be an elaborate circus organ. Mechanically-driven, complex, imposing, florid. Center-stage. LOUD, but also extremely precise and meaningfully so.

The Duchess stares wide-eyed and intensely, upright in her chair. There is a hint of a smile around her tusks. A look of hunger. What a marvelous thing, such a marvelous thing. She nods her head gently to the rhythm.

"Oh," she downplayed her tone, politely, "Thank you very much."

The dendie looked almost out of breath, staring at a pattern of nicks along the table's edge like she was trying to makes sense of them. "Russell, I dunno. I dunno." She forewent her manners, setting her elbows down, clutching her face in her hands, and ruffling up the dark red fur along her scalp.

How about a stiff drink?

Evergreen's fur is notoriously curly, and without her pomade for a smooth appearance, she would be regrettably unkempt. Of course, what matters most is she returns feeling refreshed as a living being should, and doesn't smell like old ceiling water. After what happened, it would be in her favor to make the best impression she could. Dendies are often interested in each others' effortful appearances, so why not whatever these things are?

"Thank you very much for the tour Pods- I mean, Thursday," she says. She flinches back, visibly embarrassed, although she is still smiling to play it off. Really, she can't wait, and she is already approaching the tub.

When she received the handkerchief, her brows lit up momentarily in surprise. She took it gingerly by the corner. "Ah, no, really I can't. I can't," she shook her head with a smile. It was far too nice for the likes of herself, having just been in the alleyway. Still, seeing as Russell had already offered, she wiped her hands with it.

As she dealt with the special cloth and its pleasant, albeit otherworldly scent, Winnie began to wander aimlessly across the main area, scouting the arrangements of tables and chairs. "I don't know," she said. She was starting to feel dizzy, in the sense that she wasn't certain whether she was alive. She wasn't fully aware of her own whereabouts, much less her own thoughts.