#el writes

Zevran put his comb down on top of his pack and tucked his hair behind his pointed ear, then looked at Alistair over his shoulder. The lamp light caught in his golden eyes, turning them the color of warm honey and Alistair felt his ears begin to go hot.

Zevran was certainly pretty.

He closed his eyes, unsure of when those thoughts started either.

"Are you feeling alright?" Zevran asked, his tone playful. "Your ears are red as embrium flowers."

Alistair groaned internally. Of course Zevran would see that. He saw everything. "Just asking myself questions."

"Like if women think I am handsome?" Zevran teased, turning towards him.

Still naked, still unabashed.

Alistair still couldn't believe that people so brash existed at all. Yet there he was. In all his glory. Maybe there was something to being attracted to confidence, after all.

Not that he was attracted, of course.

"So you heard me talking to Leliana, then?" Alistair asked, face flushing. He was already embarrassed, what was a little more?

"I hear many things throughout the day, my dear Warden," Zevran said lightly, lying on his side, parallel to Alistair, resting his jaw in his hand. It took everything he had not to stare down at Zevran's cock. "Do you truly find it so odd that many people find me tantalizing? Or were you trying to reassure yourself that your feelings were normal?"

"I don't know what you—I mean—You—" Alistair spluttered, feeling the heat travel down his neck. Maker. Zevran laughed, full-throated and intoxicating. Alistair found his lips wanting to curl upward despite the laughter being at his expense.

"You are too cute when you blush," Zevran said, his eyes sparkling. "And also self-incriminating."

"I've just… not met many men like you," Alistair finally managed, still dutifully looking only at Zevran's eyes.

"You mean men that have sex with other men?" Zevran asked, his voice going low and sultry. Alistair felt a thrill shoot through him as he maintained eye contact. "You also mentioned, quite recently, that you would be very happy to hop borders. Do you remember?"

"Yes?" Alistair said, thinking back to the conversation. "Oh," he groaned, finally looking away from the other man. "You weren't talking about countries were you?"

"I was not," Zevran replied, laughing lightly. He reached forward, his fingers walking across the space between them. "But what I mean is a border of sorts."

Alistair looked down at his hand, wondering how even that could be beautiful. He rolled onto his side, as well, making Zevran raise a single eyebrow. It made another thrill shoot through him.

"Surely you're curious." Zevran continued, fingers taking another step, stopping just short of where their bedrolls met. "If others find me so pleasing, would you?" Alistair's face burned so hot he was sure the tent would catch flame. "Do I live up to my boasting? Could I help you hop a border?"

Alistair's brain went, mercifully, blank for a few heartbeats as he thought about what that would actually be like.

"There is a way to dip your toe, as it were," Zevran continued, purring now. He leaned toward Alistair, head going no farther than his fingers had, staying on his bedroll. "A way to test the waters, to see if hopping the border is, indeed, for you."

Still furiously flushing, Alistair found himself drawn forward, the questions swimming around in his head. "How so?"

Zevran smiled, making Alistair's stomach flip. "Kiss me and sate your curiosity," he said, voice low. "No one has to know but us."

Alistair swallowed, wondering why there was so little fight in him. Maybe he was curious. But surely… "You're having me on…"

"Not this time," Zevran promised with a cheeky nod. "I do, however, find helping others open their minds rather fun."

Alistair's jaw worked as he stared down at Zevran's lips. They were an inviting brown, like the Antivan brandy Zevran had bought a bottle of at the last tavern. Would he taste the brandy now, if he closed the short gap between them and kissed him? He had expected Zevran to be pushier about matters such as these. But the elf stayed where he was, his expression not even expecting, just a playful smile and a sparkle in his eyes.

Everything going forward would be Alistair's decision, it seemed.

And for some reason, it made things easier. Maybe he didn't have to have an opinion on the way the party handled dwarven politics or centuries old elves. Maybe he could just be in charge of whether or not he kissed Zevran right here.

So, he leaned in and crossed the border between their bedrolls.

Zevran made a surprised, but pleased noise as their lips connected. Alistair's heart hammered in his ears, his whole body engulfing in a blushing heat even as he went stiff as a board. And, to his surprise, a hardening in his pants. But, the sensation of Zevran's lips on his was… nice.

Sweet Maker, this wasn't the plan at all.

Alistair pulled back, suddenly self conscious, clearing his throat. But Zevran's hand snuck forward, taking his wrist and keeping him from fully fleeing. Their eyes met and Alistair's breath caught tight in his throat. Zevran's eyes shone, with glee, with triumph. With much too much excitement, as far as Alistair saw it.

But at the same time, his lips tingled, begging for another taste. A kind of want that echoed deep inside of him, calling out to where Zevran's hand held him. The elf glanced down at their hands then brought them up, placing Alistair's hand gently on his cheek. "You see? It can be easy. Though should we try again, let yourself relax, my dear."

Alistair's heart clenched at the easy way the pet name fell from Zevran's lips. He was much more used to the stinging names Morrigan or Shale threw at him. Even though the others weren't hostile, there was always a bite to their comments. That Zevran would show him such softness made him so confused his head hurt. He didn't know what any of this was going to mean in the morning, but he knew that he wanted.

What was one more kiss?

He leaned back in, still cupping Zevran's cheek. Their lips brushed together again, softly this time. Alistair shivered, his pants growing even tighter. So he pulled Zevran closer, earning him another pleased noise. Zevran tilted his head, gently parting their mouths. Alistair's tongue poked forward. Now, he could taste the brandy, just as he thought. It tasted much sweeter on Zevran's lips.

When he needed air, Alistair pulled back and this time Zevran let him go. The elf gave him a long look, wiping at his lip with a thumb. It did not help his pants getting tighter much.

"I could help you with your growing problem there," Zevran offered, a sly smile on his face. "If you are still feeling adventurous."

Alistair's eyes unfocused and his mind went white for a moment, thinking about Zevran's hands on him. "Nope! That's enough adventure for me for one night! Thank you!" He said, voice a little louder than he meant. He pulled his furs up over himself, hiding even his face as Zevran chuckled, not unevilly.

Andraste's bloody ashes, what had he gotten himself into?

All four members were dead silent as the only sound that filled the atmosphere was the suckling of little fingers. Rippen's father, Axalon more openly gawked at the small thing while Vlurgen and the head of the family, Hedwin, leered at the pitiful lump of ugly genes. That is until their gaze latched back onto Rippen, the stupid brother and son who brought the vermin here and kept it a secret for a whole night, letting it spread its germs and stench within their home.

"Mama, please let me ex—"

"You know what I see?" His dear mother cut him off, eyes still lingering on the thing her son deems a baby. "I see a show of utter insolence on display before me. An ungrateful being blinded with blissful ignorance of what the world has to cruelly offer." She leaned against the island, placing her hands on the countertop yet keeping far from the tiny thing's grasp, "And I see an infant."

That was such a devastating blow to Rippen's character, at least the most devastating this month. Vlurgen grinned all the same at his miserable existence, drinking in the humiliation that tore its way in and out of him.

Rippen patiently awaited for his time to respond, not to counteract his mother in any way, he would never attempt to speak so out of turn with her. He only wanted to explain himself.

Hedwin waved her hand, her visage of detachment faced away from him, and her gaze laid upon her nails, "You may speak. No whinging."

"I had no plans in keeping it- I don't even know why I even brought it back home in the first place, honest, Mama..." No lies being passed as half-hearted truths, there was absolutely zero plan of keeping it and he didn't truly understand why he did such a dreadfully idiotic thing. Yet, the one thing that stung worse more than anything, was that he got caught. Proving that his sneaky and tactful side was severely lacking for a soon-to-be villain such as himself.

"So, whut then is your next course of action?" Her attention still on her nails as her thumb traced the painted claw of her middle finger.

Rippen gave his answer some thought before speaking, "... find its parents?" He sheepishly replied, his shoulders tensed and attempting to take the place of his spikey head as his neck sank down.

Every single family member's attention was back on him in a way that really showed that they were casting a considerably closer look at him. Axalon and Vlurgen trying to conceal their befuddlement, his father doing a better job than his sister.

"That is," His mother's face gave way to slight surprise to the response, her rubied gaze slowly moving back to his line of sight. "Certainly an option that you've chosen."

Was that the right choice? It was certainly one that led to the infant's departure. He couldn't just leave it back on the street, imagine the next gullible fool that ended up in his position, not like he cared about this hypothetical person- no, a better reasoning as to why he shouldn't re-abandoned it: he could get in trouble for littering! Yes, precisely! This option simply cuts out all the messy and potentially troublesome bits.

After that, the kitchen fell quiet again...

"Well?" Her eyes were as cold as the blood-encircled obsidian stones that made up her irises and pupils.

Rippen sputtered out, "W- Well?"

"Go."

Ordered him around like some sort of mongrel she so generously let sleep in the old utility room. A mongrel who obediently listened, rising from his seat and lunging towards the redhead, yanking him back like a ticking bomb about to blow in front of his mother, and the other two. Just like he viewed it last night.

"Don't return until you get rid of it."

The little creature cooed, grubby hands latching onto his shirt as Rippen skedaddled right out of the house. Not even heeding thoughts of stopping and changing into some fresh clothes or‐ none of that mattered. Only ridding himself and his family of this wretched tiny thing was the single most important matter in his whole wide world.

The extensive journey ahead will entail great suffering, he knew this as a certainty, remarkably so with the little tot he was toting around. He'll have to endure for the time being, it shouldn't take too long, he'll make sure of it. And the same sentiment about great suffering can be said about the curly-slightly-haired stray as well, being carried around with an empty belly was practically being sentenced to fade away from existence. This cannot stand! Its starvation shall be known to the entire planet!

The sudden noise startled Rippen, him thinking it was some sort of siren going off, but typically those don't sound that close, close enough to blare in his eardrums. He swiftly discovered the source much to his horror. That ugly, wrinkly red face just inches aways from his wailed at him as it grew redder and redder, like it was attempting to match those very few curls that blossomed forth from its big head. Lone buck teeth being unveiled with wobbly, drooly lips. All a sickening sight.

An embarrassing one too as a few passersby locked onto the young man and baby with contemptuous gazes. He acted reflexively by holding its head close to his chest and shuffled away until he was out of public view, hiding in an alleyway. Hopefully not another infant was waiting around for him, he didn't want to deal with a litter.

Adjusting the babe in his arms, he interrogated it, "Why are you causing a scene?"

The answer he received was more of the same, big unsettlingly blue eyes wetly blinking up at him, little fingers ensnaring his shirt and yanking at it. As though trying to communicate, the point came across crystal clear when the runt slammed his face against the man's broad chest and slobbered all over.

"Oh..." The realization finally dawned on him, and then some added disgust, "OH EW!" He held the ever-running drool faucet away from him, surveying the mess made. "Oh, come onnnnn!" He whined, throwing his head back in utter despair. First, a baby and now this? A little stain that'll eventually dry out on its own? Surely he'll be stoned in the streets for such uncleanliness, it truly was the end of his nonexistent social standing as he knew it!

No time was given to rub off the drool as the crying started up again, making his pointed ears snapping back in irritation. "Alright! Alright! You've made your point, you're hungry!"

The wailing quieted, the utterance of that last word really shut the little bugger up and it was like this strange, green person finally understood his tearful prayers. Take that dang shirt off and-

"Now, there's got to be something nearby." Rippen sighed, taking in a last deep breath before he casted himself back onto the streets and marched towards the closest baby store. Easier said than done.

After all his youth being spent upon these streets and roads, he never bothered to really get to know his surroundings. Only knowing a few notable places and stores that mainly revolved around his interests and curiosity. Wait, why was he ragging on himself for not knowing the exact location of a godsforsaken store for babies?! He wasn't planning to find some stray on the street since the age of eleven! This whole thing was ridiculous, he should just focus on finding the parents, no pit stops!

No, no, that'll cause more trouble down the line. What if seeing their infant acting up and fussy would make them no longer want it back? Or they think that Rippen was purposely starving the thing and trap him in their basement and starve him to death? Anything could happen, no half measures. Food then continue searching.

Asking for help could be very beneficial for the two, too bad that Rippen was too haughty to even entertain that thought. He can find it on his own, he deemed his internal compass top notch and infallible.

That mindset was probably put into question after hours of scouting for the proverbial store. If it was one hour longer, the infant that his tired arms carried around would've bitten a chunk out of Rippen in an astonishing leap in development from milk to flesh.

Wicked by Nurture

Baby Boutique

Going inside and getting a good gander at the place made him want to double over in revulsion. Yet, he carried on, scanning around for a bottle and formula enough to last the day.

While trying to ignore all the sideways glances he received, an idea came across his mind. He enacted it by getting the attention of another man, "Hey, do you know anyone—"

The man noticed Rippen, his eyes widened and violently shook his head, not even letting the younger man finish as he sped walked away with the numerous items in his basket.

Rippen tried again, asking a woman with a toddler this time, "Excuse me, Miss, do you know anyone with a baby that looks—"

"Diseased like yours?" She sharply cut him off, "Thank the gods no." The toddler strapped with a leash stared up at the weird looking baby as her mother brought her closer out of fear of being infected. "I pity you and your wife's situation though."

"I- I don't have a wife, I'm not even married."

This seemed to strike a nerve with the woman, her response to that was to sneer and walk away, pushing her shopping trolley. The toddler lingering for a bit until she was yanked away by the leash.

The failed interactions were perfectly punctuated by the oncoming storm the one might call a tantrum that was building up in the runt in his arm, slapping something off one of the shelves and shattering across the floor. It took every fiber in Rippen's being not to yell at an infant in public.

He had to go numb, that's all, just shut out all the boiling emotions and thoughts and deal with the mess. Breathe in, take a step away from the shelves to avoid further destruction, breathe out. Close your eyes, breathe in-

"Pups, huh? Always keeping you on your toes."

"Huh?" Rippen opened his eyes to see a woman cleaning up the glass mess near his feet. "Whut are you doing?"

"Helping." She answered it so casually, like it wasn't any trouble at all even though the smelly, fussy brat made it everyone's problem. Observing the woman below him, he noticed how covered up she was: something with long sleeves with what appeared to be a handmade sweater poncho over it, a headscarf hiding her probably tied up hair and to add to the extraness, sunglasses. Concealing herself head to toe. He wouldn't have questioned it if it wasn't for the sunglasses. Those rang as highly suspicious to him.

He didn't go out of his way to help the strange woman, letting himself stand there and stare down at her like an asshole. Once finishing up and holding the glass in her hands, she peeked around for a trash bin to deposit. After taking all the proper precautions and tossing the shards, she turns back to the young man, who in turn, was about to sneak away.

She obviously caught him in the act and tried to ring him back into a conversation, "Finding everything okay?"

"Oh gods, do you work here?" He whipped back around, using the boy as a shield from potential ridicule. While yes, it is the worker's job to clean up after others, he knew first hand how pissy it can make people be. He's been on both sides, neither are fun.

"No," She shook her head and arms, "I just noticed you peeking around, you look a little lost." Even with sunglasses concealing her eyes, she was still quite expressive.

Rippen arched a brow, "Oh, so you're spying on me, huh? Weirdo."

"NO- No, I am NOT spying on you." That made her shake her head and hands more rapidly than before, looking like those parts were about to screw off and fly onto the floor.

"That's exactly whut a spy would say." He accused as he held his head high, knowing he was right. That high horse he was sat upon bucked him off in the form of the grumbly sprog somehow managing to get a grubby hand full of Rippen's hair, yanking in impatience.

"I- you know whut? Fair enough, they do say that." That odd little comment flew past Rippen's notice, but her peeking around for something or someone didn't go by overlooked, "So you don't need help then?"

Rippen wanted terribly to say no, that he had everything handled. The tot tattering the ends of his luscious hair betrayed that notion, he was clearly struggling with the most simplest of tasks. So, he sighed and asked in a monotone voice, "Whut's the best, cheapest formula that'll last me a day?"

That spun into a whole dialogue about the nutritional needs of pups, how often you need to feed them, and that led to how often you should change their nappies, have you changed it yet? No, actually, he hasn't and he didn't at all feel shitty for not even checking until now. Oh, but don't worry, she'll do it for him and continue to go on and on about every necessary thing he needs to care for a pup. He averted his attention as she set the little "cutie" on a changing table and did the deed and- oh...

It was a boy.

The whirlwind of information seemed to no longer pound against his skull and merely entering through one ear and stayed within his mind. Something about the fact that it was a boy seemed to matter to Rippen for some reason. That sliver of relief faded as the little detail added another thought to his overanalyzing mind...

What if he was left there because he was a son, not a daughter?

A concept not unheard of yet one that sank Rippen's heart from his chest way down to his ass. Not out of heartbreak or sorrow, but out of fear of a potential fool's errand. That this was all for not.

"And here's all you need!" Her cheerful voice broke through his thinking. Baby boy all cleaned up and a little less cranky, along with a diaper bag picked out and full of day's worth of everything Rippen needed. A bottle, ready-to-feed formula, nappies, wipes, clothes, some toys, and what looked to be like some sort of small med kit. The whole shebang!

A whole shebang's worth of money that Rippen did not have.

Before he could speak up, "So, if you don't mind me asking," He always minded people asking him stupid questions, "Whut's the little pup's name?" She crooned, playing with the curly red tuft on the boy's bulbous head.

"Name..."

Dear gods, why ask him such a question? He could feel those scrutinizing eyes laying their sights upon him once more, being judged for not being able to provide a simple question. His sights blinked around him, waiting for people to come out of the woodwork and accuse him of numerous falsehoods. A baby snatcher, a terrible father, a wantwit child who couldn't do what he was told, dilly-dallying the day away! He wasn't even allowed to name him! He wasn't keeping him, he wasn't... his.

"It's alright, finding the right name takes time. I spent sooo much time mulling over my wee Z- ... my wee gloop's name." Seeing her reminiscing over her own child made Rippen's chest feel... gross. But it did put his mind at some ease.

"Do I really need all of—"

"WELL! I hope you find everything alright! I hope you and your son have a lovely day! Don'tbeastrangerbyeeeeeee!" She abruptly fled the door, waving a frantic hand towards him as she rushed to the outside world. The store's windows she walked past showed her cheery expression shifting to a more panicked one as she adjusted her speed from a light jog to a marathon run.

"Whut the f—"

Someone shoulder checked Rippen, marching past him and out the door before the young man could give them an earful and bark at them for their rudeness. Only a few hostile words spewed out of Rippen's mouth once the door swung open and shut back in place. He huffed and his attention returned to the boy and bag full of things that were apparently essential. Not knowing that the stranger was most definitely tailing the kind woman.

"Alright... let's see how much you're costing me, you money leech." Heaving out what must've been the fiftieth sigh of the day while he scooped up the freshly changed baby and grabbed the bag, heading over to the checkout desk.

Placing the items on the surface gained no response from the worker, only scanning everything and making no attempts of small talk. Rippen dealt with the bugger's tiny grippers as each item beeped and beeped. That is, until they noticed something in the bag, sneaking a hand in and pulling it out. "You forgot your money in here, sir."

"Money?" Rippen's focus snapped onto the work holding up a roll of cash. Most definitely not his. No, it couldn't be... why would she do that? "Oh, right, my money." He tentatively took the roll and looked over it as the worker wrapped up scanning and started to bag.

"That'll be a hundred five notes and twenty-seven cents."

"My bloody head on a pike..." He mumbled as he counted through the roll of money with a nosey nipper trying to get at the cash. Counting a generous eighty in total. An amount that would be great to put away for a rainy day, but couldn't due to his current situation. He slid it over on the desk and went to grab his wallet... his wallet was at home. "Uhhh, one moment please!" He sheepishly grinned, placing the babe next to the bag. Lowering himself down to his right shoe and slipped it off, digging under the insole and slipped out twenty-six wrinkled notes.

Shoe back in place, albeit slightly off with every step due to the disturbance, he handed over the rest. The worker tapped the desk, not wanting to touch the foot-notes. Rippen dislodged a strained chuckle, "Sorry about that... and you can just put everything in that bag."

Finally, everything was said and done! A bag on his back and a baby boy in his arms, who began to get grouchy again. Rippen paused his stride and sat down near the store on the, thankfully, empty pavement to prepare a bottle.

No bottle warmer, which is apparently a thing, so the hangry brat would have to deal. Like the starving stray it- he was, he instantly latched onto the bottle and suckled on it greedily. Unholy grumbling sounds of feeding grated on Rippen's ears, pinching back from the sheer awfulness of it. "And whut do you have to say for your antics? For my generosity? An apology and thank you, perhaps?" Sneering over the noises, trying to let himself be unfazed by it. After every single drop of the formula was sucked dry from the bottle, a disgusting burp was the answer Rippen got. Along with a sudden sneeze to the face.

"............. wonderful."

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Knock knock knock.

The home's door opened, the owner being greeted with the sight of a young man and a strange baby at their doorstep.

"Evening," He politely said, shifting the baby in his arms to give the onlooker a better view of the little guy. "Is this your baby, or do you happen to know anyone with this baby?"

"Nope."

"Oh, well, apologies for—" The door so happened to shut between them before he could finish his apology. No worries, he moved on to the next house. Then to the next one, then the one after that and the other one after that. Hustling down the street. Fitting in a quick break once the grumblings of a hungry were made known to him.

Sit. Bag. Formula. Shake. Bottle. Feed.

Knock knock knock.

"Evening! Is this your baby—"

"Uh no?"

"Do you know anyone that has a baby that looks like—"

"No?"

"Right then, thank you for your—" Door to the face.

Hours upon hours of door after door after door after door to the face, there were those few times no one answered the knocking. This suburban venture was turning into a real trip through a hellscape, especially with the bag and babe he was lugging around, arms growing tired of the responsibility of holding the formula-full tot. That one pram he spotted at the boutique would've done wonders for this endeavor, he could set the bag in the storage basket and have nothing weighing him down, nice and breezy! .... wait, what was he doing?! Why even entertain thoughts of such an expense he'd only use once! Constantly being on his feet must have been driving him to lunacy!

Sit. Bag. Formula. Shake. Bottle. Feed.

The numerous doors slammings and constant interruption was driving up a wall, people all day barely let him get a full sentence out. He probably hasn't blown up at anyone yet because he was too damn exhausted to get his blood boiling.

About to sit his tired ass down on the pavement for himself this time around, his ears pricked up, hearing some voices in the distance. Curiosity and hope got the best of him and he shambled towards them. Near a park with one of those trademark dangerous playgrounds and obstacle course, almost looked like the one he and Vlurgen grew up with... what horrible memories the sight drummed up.

"Luv, I can't seem to find his teether." One said, and the other piped up with, "Whut? Really?"

His mind began tuning out losing their baby's teether and the other part about losing something else or maybe someone? It didn't matter. His eyes were fixed onto the very nice-looking pram they had. He paid no mind to the worried mother going off, scrambling to find the teether, attentively watching the larger of the two take the fat baby out of the pram and bounced him around in attempts to soothe his bawling wrath. Walking around, singing some sort of tune... was that what lullabies sounded like?

When both were a good distance from the pram, Ripoen made his move. He scoped around the area for any witnesses before gunning for it, clutching his baby so as to not drop him along the way, bag shuffling side to side on his back. When reaching it, with unnatural care, he laid down the confused baby boy and yanked down the canopy. Getting behind to snatch the pram's handle, he felt like he elevated his peak speed to that of a rocket ship with a pram duct tape to it.

"Whu- EXCUSE YOU, YOU LIL' PUNK!" The larger, buffer woman hollered, her voice striking terror into the Rippen's heart. But he didn't dare look back.

Since he chose to only look ahead, he didn't realize the danger he was almost in. The woman snagged a sizable rock off the ground and adjusted her aim until her sights landed on her target: the dirtbag thief. She hefted her son slightly onto her shoulder so he wouldn't observe such needless violence. Aim, ready, fire—

"WAIT! STOP! HE'S GOT A PUP!"

The buff woman beefed it and missed him, thankfully. If not for the interruption, his skull would've definitely been caved in and the pup would presumably be fatherless.

He's lucky for the kindness that persists to thrive under the harsh conditions that is their planet.

Mewling underneath the canopy slipped out, making his infant's fear of the situation be known. "Shhhh‐shhh-shh, you're okay, I'm okay, we're okay!"

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Knock knock knock.

"Evening..." Rippen tiredly spoke, "Is this your baby?" The pram presented to the homeowner, that was clearly carried up the steps, showed off an odd looking creature with the peeling back of the canopy like it was a worthwhile reveal.

They closed the door with an audible lock right after.

"Yeah, I figured..."

Sit. Bag. Formula. Shake. Bottle. Feed. Gotta change soon.

Knock knock knock.

"Even—"

"BOMB ME, I DARE YOU! I HAVE YOU ON CAMERA!"

"BOMB YOU? NO! THIS IS A BABY, LOOK—"

"I AIN'T FALLING FOR THAT! PISS OFF OR I'LL CALL THE SENTINELS!"

"OKAY! OKAY! I'M GOING—"

"GO ON AND GET!"

"I AM, YOU CODGER!"

Knock knock knock.

Door open, Rippen, pitch your pitch. "... evening... thisyourbaby?" After that word vomit, he realized he was staring at an empty doorway, his eyes flicking around for a person until he looked down and found him. A small, stout Underling stared back up at him.

He answered with the usual, "No."

With the grab of the pram's handle and a sigh, "Appreciate your time—"

A sudden jerk prevented Rippen from backing out, the cause being the Underling grabbing onto the bassinet part, "Wait." He stood on his tiptoes and peered inside to see a strange, blue-eyed pup that stared back in quiet alarm. He didn't know why, but just the audacity of this guy just crossing their boundaries made his throat and chest feel as tight as his grip around the handle. He couldn't tell if he was vibrating with rage or something was wrong with his upper respiratory system.

"Have you tried Progeny Services?" The little man asked. Rippen's response to that was a slow head shake, clearly not understanding what exactly he was talking about.

The Underling hung off the pram, gesturing a hand as he explained. "Y'know, Progeny... under-something or other Services?" Again, Rippen shook his head. The guy hopped off and made it back to the door, "I don't know, It's somewhere in the middle of the district, ain't too hard to miss. They deal with strays."

And nobody told him?! It couldn't be because Rippen was too haughty or embarrassed to even ask around for such pertinent information! Obviously he was gatekept from that knowledge, especially from that supposedly kind lady.

"Oh," Rippen was quite stunned by how thoughtful this man was being, telling him the perfect place to go. "Thank you—"

"Eh, I just don't wanna deal with finding your corpse on the pavement just because you were seen as a nuisance." The Underling started to close the door, muttering out before it fully shut, "It'd ruin my morning walk."

Rippen took his leave and strolled down the pavement, letting a beat of peace and quiet passing by in the darkened street. "Hear that, boyo?" Rippen jittered with hope, pulling back the canopy, "Almost done. Just gotta find Progeny... something something Ser—" He paused as he saw the little guy passed out after quite the long, excitement-filled day. "—vices." He fixed the canopy back in place and kept walking, heading towards the center of the district. He needed to make it before closing time

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Progeny Undertaking

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This will certainly be an undertaking.

this city is not my city

just as my name is not my own

it belonged to my father first

my son now-

my son now dead.

thebes no longer belongs to any man

(and before you get your hopes up)

nor does it belong to any woman.

i am Agave

you do not know my name.

my father is Cadmus

you might have heard a legend or two.

my son was Pentheus

nobody i know dares talk of him.

i had a sister, Semele,

but she was more famous for her

whore of a son, Dionysus,

who later became my son's whore

and my torturer.

i do not fear the fate of blasphemers;

for the crimes Dionysus made me

commit, i was already going to

hell, for a long, long time.

i did not believe my sister

when she said she fucked Zeus.

that is how she phrased it,

but it's hard to believe

that she had had Zeus

on his bended knee,

or wrapped round her finger,

or being thrust inside her. come

on. Semele? Zeus?

those words do not belong

in the same sentence

let alone the same bed.

and for this harmless fun

i suffered the punishment of a crime.

Semele was going to bear a child,

Zeus' child, when she told me.

when she told me she fucked Zeus

of course i didn't believe her.

she always was a crybaby, Semele,

so she prayed to her lover for help.

at which point, you might think

i'd feel pity. i did not.

i told her Zeus would not help her

any more than fuck her.

Semele only cried more.

at which point, you might think

Zeus would help. and he did.

in his own way, of course.

to give him credit, he did warn her

it would kill her. she did not care,

and apparently, neither did he.

Zeus flashed us all.

by which i mean, he let loose

his divine form. by which i mean,

he revealed his godliness.

you get the point.

i averted my eyes

Semele could not look away.

when the blinding flash had faded,

so had my sister.

ashes to ashes

dust to dust.

but this was only

the first punishment.

Zeus cradled the charred Semele

aa easily as a baby. i could hardly

watch the grisly work: he pulls out

a knife, he thrusts it into her,

and he carves the meat of her womb

around the baby. he pulls out

the knife, he thrusts it into himself,

and he carves the flesh of his thigh

to fit the baby. he transferred it

from her womb to his leg.

and then he was gone.

watching that felt like

punishment enough,

but twenty years go by.

i give birth to my own son,

Pentheus, by Echion.

you know my husband's name

for his dragon-tooth fame

but alas he was slain

and the crown, he couldn't claim.

Cadmus was not dead,

and neither is he dead now,

but he was old then

and even older now.

Echion dead, he gave his throne

to Pentheus.

(until this point, i had only been

an observer. it is about time

Agave gets her part in the action.)

and so, Dionysus comes to town.

a new god, or so he says.

you had to be mad not to frown

and so, we all went insane,

mad with love, mad with hate

mad with frenzy, mad with rage.

all the women were driven this way,

only two men were turned to this way.

prophet Tiresias, grandfather Cadmus:

"worship the god" they told Pentheus.

just as i didn't believe my sister

when she said Zeus was the father,

so Pentheus had no faith

when Dionysus was growing in fame

if i had not been insane,

i would have been the same.

the gods are wily in every way

and cruel in every game they play.

Dionysus did not tell us,

when he came to town:

by making us mad, he created a raucous,

yet did not tell us who had come to town.

(i didn't know he was Semele's son.

if i had, i would have worshipped him

all the more. it was a miracle

he'd even survived his birth.)

just as he didn't tell us,

he also didn't tell Pentheus.

to toy with my son

like a cat with a mouse

to fuck with my son

i would hardly allow.

when the prophet and Cadmus

both tried to speak out

his grandson proud Pentheus

would just shut them down

so Dionysus came

bound up in chains

called himself a stranger

and Pentheus saw danger.

the women were mad,

he thought he'd been had:

since Pentheus was besotted,

he knew not what Dionysus plotted.

the palace comes down

with Pentheus' crown

the towers all fall

at Dionysus' call

us girls, we rush round

now it's Dionysus who's proud

we clamour to know

what he's beginning to grow,

"just a moment, my dears,"

as he looks right at me

"it might bring you to tears."

and we laugh happily.

Dionysus goes,

us girls are morose.

we do the only thing we can,

the only thing we like,

together, the whole band,

mothers and daughters alike.

we hunt and we rip

and we tear every piece

we get meat in our grip

ready to feast

we laugh and we howl

we dance and we drink

we hunt 'til each girl

hardly knows how to think

a cub up a tree

shows itself to me

i could take it apart

so easily

i beckon each girl

come closer, i say

the lion up there?

that's what i will slay

they laugh and they howl

they dance and they drink

they ask if this girl

is so stupid to think

she could kill this cub?

so high up in the tree

if she's really that dumb

she should return to her family

liars, i cry

as i run past them all

i'll show you when i

make this lion fall

and just like that, i hurl my great spear,

watch as she clings, deep into the tree

watch my cub's eyes widen with fear

and just like that, there is no mercy

for my little cub, it shakes and it cries

an arrow falls high, another falls low,

one more, my cub falls from the skies,

one more, my cub falls from its throne.

i leap and i pounce to get at its lungs,

i hear a voice scream, "take pity on me

mother, please see, that i am your son!"

and just like that, i have no mercy.

i laugh and i howl.

i dance and i eat.

i feast; i'm the girl

with a son she can't see.

the prophet is here, my father too

he carries a bag, "enough food for two!"

i shout. but he walks even nearer to me,

"Agave, my girl, why can't you see?"

he holds my face, the prophet comes

close.

he starts to chant, my mind is

composed.

i can feel in my hands, the weight

of the cub

so soft and so damp

it's coated in blood

i take a deep breath and see Cadmus'

eyes. he sees. he speaks.

"look down at the cub.

see what you've done."

tentatively, i look, then drop it and scream

scream

scream

as loud as

my cub

my son

my son

when he was killed

by me.

i cry once again.

i'm not sure i'm

yet sane. when out of the pain

Dionysus comes.

"My plan all along," he says in a trance

he offers his hand. an invite to dance.

i refuse.

i refuse.

i refuse.

he shrugs, and he smiles.

did he ever stop smiling?

the other girls

join in with his wiles

Cadmus won't stop crying.

Agave can't start crying.

how could i cry, when my son

cried as loud as me

when i killed him?

Dionysus now laughs, his hair

flown askew. he says to Cadmus

"i've a prophecy for you."

my father wants

no more prophecies

no more dances

no more deaths.

"a snake you'll become,

your pretty wife too,

the other girls will have fun."

"not Agave too."

i'm not sure if Cadmus said that

or if i did.

Dionysus shakes his head. his hair

is anew. he says to me,

"i've another plan for you.

to live in exile, for a long, long while

to never come back

to the family you slew."

i say nothing.

i would rather live in exile

than see this city again.

the palace he destroyed

the family we destroyed

i will never see again.

and i will be glad of it.

a sad story. a mad story.

how could a girl forget her family?

perhaps that is why you should