Writings & Art of a Rogue

Chantico, queen of the dance hall

Many have commented how he looked so much like his Piei. It was the eyes, the beauty mark, facial structure, the hair. There wasn’t much of his Mipi. The horns, but he had sawed them off; the tail, albeit shorter and spineless— he cut them off, just trying to fit in; nails, but they were filed.

There was one unseen characteristic, always hidden by his clothes. Very few know of it, though most were dead anyways. His curse would’ve grinned, “It’s not a secret unless one of you is dead.” A scoff would’ve been his answer, “Says the cause.”

He now regretted for destroying what made him his mother’s son. At least the physical aspects, the internal ones, he’s not sure. Who knows, he’s already blackened. At least he still had one part of her, and it was part of his skin: marbling.

His Mipi had marbled skin, evident all over her body. It was jaggedly smooth, no sense of pattern but there was a rhythm. His was more, subtle. It doesn’t become quite evident until a little lower down his chest. The colors slowly deepened and lightened, the beginnings of a rhythmic pattern.

It wasn’t quite like Mipi’s, there’s a slight jagged appearance, but it’s smoother. He caught himself several times tracing the lines, not noticing how tears fell from his eyes until something caught his ear. The lines always faded into when it reached his hands and feet.

Not like Mipi’s, stained permanently and utterly beautiful. She had fully accepted herself, while he hadn’t, even still. It was difficult, It was difficult then, it was difficult now. Childhood wasn’t kind to him, and he wasn’t kind to himself, and the perfect lines show it. Present, still not kind, but he was trying to be kinder to himself, and the imperfect scars show it.

He still cried, still when he traced the marbling. But he hadn’t truly cried—not yet, it was still in the future — when someone was tracing his back. It was a contorted flower, his namesake, that stretched from his shoulder blades to the middle of his back.

Just right above his tail.

There was a bit of color in the middle, different from his skin. It was a heather purple, right where the flowers and the tips of the leaves were. He doesn’t recall seeing it before. The last time he had looked at his backside was perhaps a while ago, but the flower and purple were never there.

He hadn’t, cried this much since, well...

He was inconsolable for a time, heart full yet breaking. Mipi, Piei, did they forgive him? Were, were they still, were they still here with him? Oh, if only he was better now, this version of himself was the worst. He wasn’t the same little boy they adored, he had became blackened for all his sins.

He was dying, dying so slowly. Mipi and Piei shouldn’t be proud, they shouldn’t. Yet, they had blessed him still, why?

Healing, he was finally healing. He was finding his laughter again, his little smiles. He was finding himself again, healing from all the gruesome sights his patron cursed him with.

“Poinsettia, dear...”

Warm eyes of cognac and slate looked up at her soft orange gaze. Her gaze softened at seeing those little partings of gold. He has his father’s eyes...

“Yes Mipi?” His voice was small, a bit muffled against the blanket.

She gave a soft chuckle, cupping the little boy’s cheek to lift his face. Her thumb familiarly stroked his cheek, the one with the beauty mark. Just like with her husband...

“Don’t hide your face baby, no one can see your cute little face,” she cooed.

He blushed, a pretty dusty rose color. He leaned hard into her hand, rubbing his cheek against her palm before placing his little hand over hers.

“No one wants to see my face,” he mumbled, a sad pout on his lips.

She frowned. “I do baby.” Leaning down, she picked him up, setting him on her lap. “And I’m sure piei would love to see you.”

He buried his face above her chest, not quite tall enough to hide in the hollow of her neck. “Piei’s busy... I don’t want to bother him...”

Her frown deepened, pursing her lips. She lowered her head, kissing his full head of blonde curls. “I don’t think he would mind Pom-Pom. Better than his mountain of paperwork,” she softly chuckled.

A soft little whine, burying his head further. She sighed, rubbing his back. They took a moment, sitting like this in silence. She wondered what this place has done to them, to their little family. Being separated like this was rather cruel, especially unfair to her husband.

Sighing, she moved to the edge of the bed to stand, bringing Ponsettia with her. Her little boy looked up, a bit startled.

“Mipi, where are we going?”

She kissed his forehead. “Seeing your father, he must be lonely,” she replied, opening the door. The guard outside her room glanced over, slightly turning to face them. “Just going to my husband’s office,” she told them. “Follow afar.”

The guard nodded before she began her walk. Poinsettia was mostly silent, but he made the occasional protest.

“Piei may not want to be disturbed.”

“Piei might be really focused and he’ll get mad if we visit.”

Each one was gently rebutted, assuring him Piei would never be mad about them visiting. She made a quick stop at the kitchens, noticing it was nearing lunch time. She handed poinsettia a lemon crinkle cookie, smiling at seeing his eyes light up. Kissing his cheek, she picked up the basket before continuing on her way.

Once they reached his office, she bowed her head at the guards before knocking.

There’s a muffled, tired sigh before a call of “Who is it?” reached her ears.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “My reckless virdulq, are you saying you don’t recognize your own wife?” She teased.

“Dear Holme, I don’t have that spell to let me see through everything,” he replied, a bit of a laugh shining through his tone.

Twisting the doorknob, she pushed it open, grinning. Poinsettia, cookie still in his mouth, hid his face, feeling like he’s intruding. Haven whistled with disappointment as she saw stacks upon stacks of paper scattered around the room, eyes settling on her clearly exhausted husband.

He tried to smile nonetheless, as if the eye bags were really not there. “My sweet Holme and my little cotton ball,” he called softly, setting down the pen.

“They’re working you like a horse,” she frowned, pressing a kiss to his lips as she pushed a stack to set down the basket.

He tiredly chuckled. “Nothing rests here my dear.” His eyes settled on his son. “Cotton ball,” he cooed, brushing his locks. There’s a shy peek of slate before hiding again. “Little cotton,” He cooed again as his wife handed him over. “I haven’t seen in you a while.” He kissed his forehead, his cheek. “What do you have there?”

Cognac and slate flickered up and away, fidgeting. “Lemon cookie...” he held out the half-eaten cookie. “Try...?”

A small smile. “I would love to. Thank you.” He took a smile bite, chewing thoughtfully.

Haven moved to sit on the arm of the chair, smiling softly. “It’s a little after one.” She opened the basket. “We brought you lunch.”

Swallowing, he shifted to sit more comfortably. “Is it really?” He looked over the clock. “I didn’t realize.”

She sighed, holding out a grilled chicken sandwich to him. “They really need to lighten your load,” she frowned, gently holding out a hand to poinsettia. “You can finish your cookie after Pom-Pom.”

He handed it to her wordlessly, accepting the exchange for a sandwich. Vallaria had begun to eat, trying not to scarf it down. “I would love to have less work,” he admitted, taking a distasteful sweep around his office. “But the council wants to do a lot of things—“

“At the cost of your health vildulq,” she sighed, brushing away his locks before cupping his cheek. “Pom-Pom misses you,” she whispered.

His gaze softened, glancing down at his son, who was trying to ignore the conversation. He curled into a tighter ball, not wanting to put more stress on piei. “It’s okay piei... I know you’re busy, I don’t want to bother you...”

Vallaria could easily pick up the sadness, setting down his sandwich to hug his son properly with a soft sigh. “I’m sorry for being so busy Cotton ball.” A kiss to the top of his head. “I want to spend time with you, I really do.” He glanced up at his wife.

She moved to lean against him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He placed a kiss upon her cheek, just a start of an apology. “And with Amil too.”

“But you have so much work,” he weakly protested, eyes imploring.

A kiss to his forehead. “Doesn’t mean I need a break from time to time. And I miss you too little cotton.” He brushed away his curly blonde locks, smiling fondly. “I can’t remember the last time I showed you a new flower.”

Poinsettia pouted, not wanting to be a bother but... “Piei it’s okay...”

He grinned. “I’ll ask for a week off.” His hands positioned themselves, ready to pounce.

“N-no, really—“ He then screeched, unwanted peals of laughter left his lungs.

Haven smiled brightly as Vallari giggled playfully, continuing his tickling. “Oh, it’s been so long since we’ve heard you laugh,” she sighed, laughing along.

Poinsettia squirmed, whining between laughter. “Pi-Pieeeeiii!! NOOOOO!!!”

“There’s my little cotton ball!” Vallaria laughed before pressing kisses all over his cheeks.

“Noooooo, pieeiiii, you have wooork,” he whined, pouting.

“You and Amil are more important,” Vallaria grinned before sharing another chaste kiss with his wife. “Gods, what would I do without you,” he mumbled against her lips.

“Beyond exhausted,” she grinned before pressing a kiss to his temple. “Why not a change in scenery? I’m sure you’re tired from all this snow.”

A glance outside before a smile spread across his lips. “After we eat. I’m still starving,” he chuckled, grabbing his sandwich. A thoughtful moment before he blew a raspberry on his son’s cheek, which was met with a high whine.

“Noooooo piiieiiiiiii!”

He laughed. “I couldn’t help it cotton ball,” he smiled before taking a bite of his sandwich.

“You have cute chub-chub baby,” Haven cooed, pinching his cheek.

Another whine. “Mipiiiiiii.”

“Our adorable little cotton ball~” Vallaria cooed, squishing his hand against his dusty rose cheek.

“Noooooooooooo.” A displeased pout, very cute.

Tief!

teef!

Fiery gals, mostly

Shakira Hawkins, your local thotty Pirate