A couple months ago, a couple of buddies and I got together to give ourselves a bit of a challenge. We decided to give ourselves a little self-study, and challenge ourselves to create fan art pieces inspired by and in the technique/style of classical art eras. Each of us had an individual era to learn from, and we opted to all draw from Twisted Wonderland to keep it in theme. To be completely honest, I couldn't be more proud of all of us and what we all accomplished. And we hope you enjoy it too!
Each painting will have a link to a personal post, where the artist can talk about what they learned, what they enjoyed, and about the process they had in making their piece.
RENAISSANCE
"Inversion of Genesis" by @chryseas
NEOCLASSICAL
"Knight's Blessing" by @ramshacklerumble
ROMANTIC
"Oasis" by @tixdixl
"Meet in a Dream" by @tixdixl
IMPRESSIONISTIC
"Reluctant Dancers at the Barre" by @twstinginthewind
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Characters: Marshall Eton (my OC,) Bobbi St. Robins (@/ramshacklerumble's OC)
Important notes: establishing moment for the character dynamic, takes place when the boys are middle school-aged years prior to the start of the game
The heat of the Sunset Savanna was the worst.
Most adults insisted the Land of the Scalding Sands was even worse, hitting nearly unreal temperatures both day and night given its desert climate, but that didn't matter to thirteen-year-old Marshall Eton. He'd never been there yet, so it didn't count, and as far as he was concerned, this place took the cake for making a guy completely miserable. If they hadn't been here to support his brother in the Bead Brawl, Marshall would have begged his mother to let him stay home alone, or even with his grandparents or something. He was not built to withstand this place.
And then, as if all that wasn't bad enough, his mother had given him that look that meant she thought she was doing something so nice and insisted he go out to enjoy the festival atmosphere and look around. Marshall had gaped at her, and she smiled, clearly taking his look to mean he'd been amazed by what she said. Gareth had already skulked off on his own earlier, so his mother handed him a small pile of thaumarks and one of the charge cards (the former in case someplace didn't accept the latter,) and insisted he go have fun, maybe even find Gareth if he didn't feel like wandering by himself. She then proceeded to look away to a gaggle of other women her age all clustered around the hotel lounge, fancy cocktail drinks in hand as they waved and called to her. Knowing right then and there he was doomed, Marshall quickly put The Smile on his face and offered his mother a sweet, delighted thanks. He knew it had been sufficiently convincing when he heard the ladies coo to his mother what a darling, handsome young man her son was, and determined that he would keep up the appearance as much as possible. The Smile opened all kinds of doors that way.
He just wished it could get the damn heat and the sun to leave him be.
Luckily, several of the stalls along the cheerful market walk offered shade with coverings and large weather umbrellas set up. Marshall often stopped and lingered at these places, doing his best to make polite, respectful small talk. He was undeniably a tourist, but if he was a polite one then at least they might not be upset with him for trying to keep himself cool. Still, best not to linger for too long in any one place, especially if he wasn't going to buy something, and he made sure to move on before long.
He wasn't sure when it had happened, but the closer he got to the food vendors, he became aware that he continually saw a redheaded boy with fox beastfolk traits in the crowd. And unless Marshall missed his guess by a lot, he got the feeling the fox boy was moving closer to him.
Naaah. Probably just a coincidence. He continued along his way, humming to try to keep up the appearance that he wasn't as cranky and miserable and brain-meltingly hot as he felt. And the closer and closer the wonderful smell of roasting meat got to his keen nose, the more he was drifting in that direction. Maybe a little snack wouldn't hurt…
It was as he got to that side of the market and glanced around the stalls to see what was on offer that he got the confirmation his earlier suspicion was on the mark: the fox-boy was heading in the same direction he was.
Even so, Marshall dismissed this after a moment or two of trying to think. They were probably both just looking for snacks or something cold to drink. Didn't mean anything that he kept seeing the fox-boy. More likely than not, he was a fellow tourist.
A bright, fruity scent wafted from a stall, carrying with it the crisp, nose-tickling sensation of something chilled in a hot place. Marshall swung towards it with hope and intent, inching his way through the crowd to see if he could get an idea of the menu before approaching the stall outright. It looked like they were indeed selling cold beverages, but it was hard to tell exactly what those beverages were.
And it was as he was waiting to get an idea that he heard a voice nearby—very nearby—abruptly say, "Man, what's up with this friggin' heat…?"
Before the third word even got out, Marshall was turning his head to see who else, but the fox boy, tugging at and playing with his shirt collar. A quick assessment proved the boy was indeed sweating through his shirt, despite the fact it looked sporty and made to keep him cool. So the fellow tourist theory really did have some credence. He was a bit stringy and short, but the sound of his voice and the way he carried himself put him closer to Marshall's age. And as he turned and looked at Marshall, he abruptly added, "How are you holding up?"
For a brief moment, Marshall's brain stalled, completely thrown off by the fact his kneejerk instinct the boy had been following him was right and not a product of his imagination or some heat-induced weirdness.
"I'm not," he answered somewhat hesitantly. "I am not built for this kinda heat, and if my brother weren't in a team for the Bead Brawl, I wouldn't be here."
The fox boy inched a little closer, stuck out his hand in offering for a moment before seizing Marshall's and, pumping the handshake enthusiastically, said, "Bobbi St. Robins."
"Uh, I'm Marshall Eton," he answered, slipping his hand free as politely as he could manage. He was getting a weird vibe from the other boy. No wait, not just from him… Quick, darting glances around them revealed something even weirder: the people nearby kept glancing their way, like they were waiting for something to happen.
"If you're looking at Efua's stall there for a drink, why not try the hibiscus tea?" Bobbi suggested as Marshall's gaze ended back up on the stall he'd been eyeing before. Marshall looked from him to the stall and considered, registering that the suggestion and the tone it was offered in felt too…well, familiar for a tourist to suggest.
"Is that the pink-and-orange drink he's handing out?" Marshall asked conversationally, his right ear swiveling to continue monitoring Bobbi. "Looks too opaque for tea."
"Why don't you give it a shot and see for yourself?" Bobbi said, shrugging his shoulders and shoving his hands in his pockets, a smile in his voice. As he moved, Marshall caught the rattling, metallic clink in the sound, and realized Bobbi had a fistful of money on hand. Probably his own allowance from a parent who couldn't be bothered to be present.
Still, this situation was bugging Marshall. There was something about this fox he didn't like or trust. He started walking towards the drink stall, slow, careful steps, still considering his options on the surface, and keeping Bobbi in his sights.
"So hey, you said you have a brother in the Bead Brawl?" Bobbi asked, keeping pace with him. "That's pretty cool! What's his name? What team's he on?"
"Don't remember the team name," Marshall admitted, "but his name is Gideon." Then, for the sake of being polite and because he needed to keep up The Smile, he asked, "Are you cheering for any particular team or player?"
"Who, me? Nah, I'm here for the fun of it! Bead Brawl's a huge deal."
They'd gotten close enough to the stall at that point Marshall was next in line to order. The feeling of something being off hadn't let up, and as he thought about it, he got the sense Bobbi had some other motive for following him. He didn't like it, not one bit.
The coins in Bobbi's pockets jangled again, and Marshall's ear twitched, an absolutely mean idea occurring to him.
Do unto others before they do unto you. He couldn't remember who in his family had said it, but perhaps it would come in handy.
He stepped up to the man running the stall, Bobbi lingering nearby with his arms folded behind his head, and renewed The Smile at full force.
"And for you, young man?"
"My new acquaintance here recommended I try the hibiscus tea," he answered, gesturing in Bobbi's direction. "Can I ask how much that would be?"
A swift, elegant curl of the fingers of the hand he has gestured with, and the little bit of magic he was building curled in his palm. He slipped his hand into his own pocket as the man told him the price, and made a show of thinking about it, imagining a move from one space to another, a seamless little vanishing and relocation. It was one of the first spells he'd learned, encouraged by his brothers to get him to snatch things from one another, and Marshall had been practicing it for seven years.
A fistful of coins popped into his hand and he pulled it from his pocket, presenting it with only the barest glance at what he actually held as he asked in a saccharine tone, "Is this enough~?"
Almost immediately he sensed Bobbi noticing something was wrong, the sudden eyes on the money he handed over, and then the rising feeling of shock and indignant anger emanating from that small fox as the vendor handed over the drink. There was a burst of vicious triumph in Marshall, and just because he could, he waved the man off with a pleasant, "Keep the change."
As he turned, a pair of light brown eyes stared at him with open accusation, and Marshall offered Bobbi a closed-mouth, taunting smile as he turned and sauntered away from the stall, ears swiveling back and his bushy tail sweeping from side to side as he went. He'd barely gotten two strides away before he heard Bobbi follow, his gait now entirely different.
The smirk on Marshall's face grew and he sipped at the drink, lazily cutting across the main market and looking around for a relatively quiet space, keeping his ears turned back to listen for Bobbi. He cut across a smaller street, then between two buildings, headed towards what might be a small park. Sure enough, the closer he got to that space, the faster Bobbi moved until Marshall could hear him all but running behind him.
"Hey!"
Marshall turned, offering a look of mildly curious innocence to the boy now approaching him with undisguised fury.
"Yes? Something wrong~?"
"You know what's wrong," Bobbi seethed, baring his teeth. "That was my money!"
"Was it? Didn't see your name on it when I pulled it outta my pocket."
"I know exactly what I worked so hard to save up for Bead Brawl day!" Bobbi took a step closer, hands balling into fists at his sides.
Saved up? Huh. Interesting. Marshall tilted his head to the side, clicking his tongue. "Are you accusing me of stealing from you? When you were the one who made contact with me earlier?" he asked, before making a disappointed click with his tongue. "Might wanna work on your approach there, pal."
Bobbi started to open his mouth, then stopped, discarding whatever he'd been about to retort with and instead declared, "You used magic. You used magic and stole my money."
"Prove it," Marshall said, starting to get bored with the conversation already. "Did you see me use magic?" Bobbi immediately closed his mouth and Marshall shrugged, giving a brief sweep of his tail. "Didn't think so."
That should have settled the matter, and Marshall did turn to go…and then a fist grabbed onto his top and yanked hard. Not hard enough to choke him, but hard enough to be irritating.
"Smug asshole-!!"
Marshall spun, smacking the hand off his clothes and letting The Smile slide off his face as he looked at Bobbi, and huffed a sigh. "Really?"
Bobbi's eyes narrowed and he moved like he was getting ready to swing back for a punch, but Marshall snapped his fingers, putting a kick of his magic behind it, and Bobbi hit the ground as his his feet were knocked out from under him. He scrambled on the dusty ground, preparing to lunge with his upper body to swing another punch, but Marshall was already crouching down, setting the hibiscus tea aside and catching the punch in one fist.
"Let's you and me get somethin' straight, Bobbi," he said, just enough of a sneer in his tone to bely his bland expression. "I hate fighting. It makes me feel like a brute, and worse, it messes up my hair. So you can forget it if you think I'm going to fight you over some stupid drink. It's beneath me. If I wanna waste my time, I'll actually do something fun."
"It's not about the drink, it's about my money!" Bobbi snapped as Marshall stepped back, releasing him. "And you cheated! You used magic!"
"So? Who cares? I don't see a ref around to card me just because I can use magic and you can't."
Something about this seemed to strike hard at the smaller boy, and his righteous fury and indignation melted into something closer to helplessness. He managed to get himself up into a sitting position, but he still leaned back, like he was prepared to evade a kick to the face. Marshall contemplated doing just that, but decided against it; that strange feeling from earlier was gone, like this had nullified a potential threat, and he was bored now.
Pulling out his phone to message Gareth and see where his brother was at, he added, "It bothers you so much, get better."
Bobbi sat up a little straighter like he'd just been jolted with static, letting out a baffled "Huh?"
Message sent, Marshall looked down at him again.
"I said, if it bothers you so much, then get better."
"Get better?"
"Yeah, you heard me," Marshall said, leaning down and giving Bobbi a none-too-gentle poke in the forehead, The Smile once again fixed in place. "You don't like me walkin' all over you? Then get better than me. Game up, fox-boy."
He gave a half-hearted shove, getting a strangled yelp out of the other boy, and sauntered away, drink forgotten where he set it down but spirits higher than they'd been since they got to this miserably hot place. High enough in fact, he started to sing to himself again, tail swishing back and forth the entire way to the Bead Brawl Arena.
End note: When discussing this with Gar initially, it was agreed on that Bobbi was originally casing Marshall as a mark in this fic, planning to pickpocket him after convincing him to buy tea so Bobbi could see what he paid with...but Marshall's intuition means he got the proverbial jump on Bobbi, and he ends throwing that parting shot. And Bobbi never forgets it because he ends up taking it to heart.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Inspired by the band Nightwish || Recommended Song
From the frigid mountains of Briar Valley, meet our headlining band of fae and otherfolk. Lead guitarist and singer, Cyril Zeman, is known for his darker tones, complimenting his operatic soprano counterpart. Their songs tend to range from absolute bangers with orchestral accompaniment, ballads with rifts and guitar solos, all the way to incredibly deep and profound songs of love and life lost. Their performances are known to go long, but are full of practical effects, moshing, and even full crowd conga-lines. It's even said that sometimes the dead will rise from their graves to mosh alongside the living until dawn sends them off.
UnderDark
Design by @tixdixl
Inspired by the band Wind Rose || Recommended Song
This band of dwarves came out from the caves of the Shaftlands to sing about their forefathers who helped the Poisoned Princess, and their distant cousins from the Isle of Cantrevs who lived alongside the Tylwyth Teg. Their music makes any listener want to grab a pick axe and start digging! Expect glitter bombs and smoke during their live shows.
Pixie Metal
Design by @the-trinket-witch
Inspired by the band Baby Metal || Recommended Song
This band of pixies came out from the Land of Dawning to make you dance and sing. Singing songs of poisoned cakes and dirty, rotten pirates, you better have your glow sticks ready, and you better be ready to clap! After all, fairies stay awake and alive to the sound of rhythmic clapping.
Fighting Dragons
Design by @the-trinket-witch
Inspired by the band DragonForce || Recommended Song
These musicians hail from the Kingdom of Heroes, coming to share tales and ballads of warriors who have slayed dragons of all kinds. The trials of the Boy King and his trusted Wizard Mentor inspire excitement and determination in all who hear. Get ready to headbang and mosh to the shredding and the rifts of Fighting Dragons!
Her Draconic Majesty
Design by @cyanide-latte
Inspired by His Infernal Majesty [HIM] || Recommended Song
This band of fae folk come to the stage from the forests of Briar Valley. In political protest against the wills of the Senate, they mourn the loss of their Dragon Princess. And to combat the decline of belief in dragons across the board, these tales will remain immortalized in the lyrics of their ballads. Expect fire on the stage and swaying smartphone lights in the audience of any of their performances!
Event Post
Tag list: @twstinginthewind @sunsmilu @elenauaurs @theleechyskrunkly @thehollowwriter
Characters: Marshall Eton (my OC,) Mac and Wesson Nightwatch (@/tixdixl's OCs,) Hester Suzhen and PJ Lackland-Plantagenet (@/twstinginthewind's OCs) and Bobbi St. Robins (@/ramshacklerumble's OC)
Additional notes: This one really got away from me. At some point it pumped the gas and I was just racing to catch up with it. Was meant to mostly be silly and showcase how the five (Chucklefuck Trio + PJ & Hester duo) interact but oop, looks like we dug a bit at PJ's issues.) Typically I don't watch events ahead of them hitting the EN server but I wanted to get C&D Diner accurate within reason and not just wing the entire thing. I'm sure I got a few things off, so I apologize.
"There's a good spot, sir!"
"I dunno, bro, I think they're going to be pissed if they hafta take the chairs 'stead of the booth. Boss?"
"If they complain, boys, we just tell them next time they need to get here first."
The lunch rush at Crisp 'n' Dips Diner was petering off when the trio of young beastmen sauntered through the doors in anticipation of the meet-up they'd planned. With the seat-yourself sign placed at the front, they moved through the place until they'd made a turn and Macadamia Nightwatch had pointed out the recently-cleaned table. A partial, with two chairs facing inward, and the opposite side featuring a crescent-curved booth with a high back, with just enough seating for the three of them.
At Marshall Eton's comment, both of the Nightwatch twins managed to hold back their responses. While they were still getting to know Hester Suzhen and her temperament, they'd known PJ Lackland-Plantagenet for a good number of years now, and he'd undoubtedly gripe about not getting first choice of seats. But of course, Marshall wasn't the type to let that bother him or be intimidated by PJ's tantrums, so they knew there wasn't a point in bringing it up.
Marshall slid into the booth first, gently nudging the tabletop so he had space to move and breathe without an issue, and Mac promptly hopped in next to him on his left side, while his twin Wesson slid in to sit at Marshall's right. The diner was still relatively new, but recently it had made an addition with an arcade room, resulting in another boom in business. The trio had wanted to make it out for some time now, but through whatever combination of their collective absentmindedness, the diner's business boom, and the general tendency to just forget something when it wasn't in front of you, they hadn't. It was only their third time there, and it was entirely at PJ's and Hester's insistence they wanted to try it out.
"I dunno, boss, I gotta feeling the owner won't be too happy seein' us in our uniforms and them in theirs," Wesson remarked, his tone tense as he slowly glanced around them at the rest of the diner's interior. "Maybe this was a bad idea."
Wes had a valid point. The founder and owner of C&D was a Night Raven College alumnus, and while he certainly had nothing against serving students from Royal Sword Academy (money was still money, after all,) the generational hatred of RSA still ran deep. And given the trio hailed from NRC while PJ and Hester attended RSA…
"They might not be thrilled if they see," Marshall agreed quietly, "But it's not as if they can really afford to alienate their customer base for who they choose to sit with. They just dumped a bunch of money into the expanded space and the arcade games in it. Even if they get a slight boom to business for a handful of weeks, that's probably not gonna be enough to cover the cost of all that. Plus, if I have reason to complain about discriminatory treatment…"
He let his words trail off and it clicked for Wes, whose shoulders eased up…somewhat.
"Right, your dad can make life hard for 'em," he said, breath huffing out a little. "Good point."
Pleased, Marshall crossed his arms.
"And besides," he went on, "don't think anyone who sees us talking with them would assume we're friends, y'know. D'ya even think of them as friends, Wes?" Sensing Mac about to make a comment, Marshall's hand shot out and clamped over the vulture beastman's mouth. "Button your beak."
Wesson gave the question some thought, his expression uncertain and a touch conflicted. Eventually he gave a massive forward shrug with his slouched shoulders and said "'s complicated."
"Precisely," Marshall agreed, his ears giving a slight flick as he removed his hand from Mac's mouth. "Go ahead."
"Well I think of 'em as friends!"
This received nods from his twin and the wolf, but before either could offer comment, a server approached their table with a stack of menus.
"Ah, there'll be five of us in total," Marshall told them after they'd greeted the trio and started handing out the glossy menus. "We're just waiting on the other two members of our party to arrive."
"So just drinks for now?" the server asked, placing down two additional menus and retrieving a pad and pen from their waist apron.
When the server left again, the boys sat back and resorted to their usual activity of people-watching. One vulture stared at nothing and nobody in particular, his gaze somewhat dreamy in a pleasantly content way as he bobbed his head on occasion to some rhythm only he knew. His twin opposite scrutinized every inch of the diner he could see with a slow, careful sweep of the eyes, and the wolf's attention seemed to jump around in a bored fashion that was belied by the shifting motions of his ears. There was never any prior discussion to this activity when it occurred; the three had simply been on a wavelength for so long with one another that the people-watching was something near-automatic.
And when PJ and Hester arrived, they knew at once.
Granted, it did help somewhat that the Royal Sword Academy uniform stood out with glaring dazzle. The crisp whiteness of it was hard to miss, even from their secluded spot.
"They made it!" Mac exclaimed. He stood slightly, waving an arm to get their attention, though it was a moment or two before they caught sight of the table. Unsurprisingly, PJ's eyes narrowed and he barely managed to put on a dignified air as he all but stomped over to them. Hester, expression unreadable, slithered behind him dutifully.
"You could have waited and let me have first choice of seating," he snapped, crossing his arms.
"Get here first next time, Percy~," Marshall returned in a poisoned-honey voice.
PJ glowered at the nickname but any correction he was used to giving was forestalled by Hester patiently offering, "You can always choose which of these two seats you'd like, sir."
"Mmnnh." The noise was audible even through a closed mouth as PJ dropped into the seat nearest Mac. Hester had barely settled herself in the chair next to him when PJ started reaching across the table and grabbing numerous objects, pulling them towards him and setting them up like he was forming a blockade wall.
"Sir?" Hester prompted, tone puzzled.
"A necessary precaution," he insisted, throwing a suspicious glance at Mac, who only smiled back at him in the oblivious way he had.
Hester raised a brow but didn't press the issue. Silently, the trio shared a mutual thought that she must already have gotten used to some of PJ's quirks if she accepted this so quickly. That was good; this was the first time they were really getting to actually see how she was around PJ in a more relaxed fashion, and the way she was rolling with what he threw at her hopefully meant she'd gel well enough with them all as a unit.
The server came by again, having spotted them taking the chairs, and took their drink order before hurrying off to fill it. PJ immediately went for the menu, but Hester took a moment to look around, her brow furrowing. When the server returned in seconds with their drinks and asked if they needed a moment or so to order, she finally picked up a menu and started to study it.
"It seems they have quite a variety of options to choose from," she remarked, in the tone one might use when politely describing something as alarmingly haphazard.
"Oh, we ain't picky!" Mac volunteered.
"Food is food," Wes agreed.
Hester's brow furrowed even deeper as she glanced from one twin to the other before looking over the menu again.
"Eugh, they serve coffee here twenty-four-seven? And they dare to call it artisanal?" PJ said, curling his upper lip in disgust.
"It's not," Marshall declared. "The quality isn't the worst I've had but apparently you can buy high-end cold brew and espresso machines and claim that makes the coffee better or artisanal or whatever."
"Your sacrifice for the rest of us is noted Eton, though I'm not sure I respect it in this case."
"Watch it Percy, I can still take you outside and hunt you for sport."
"Are you two always sniping at each other like this?" Hester asked in a too-pleasant voice, lowering her menu so her eyes could flick between the lion and the wolf.
"Since the day we met," Wesson confirmed, setting down his own menu.
"Yeah, 's how they show they're friends!" Mac chimed in, getting very mild but immediate denials from both PJ and Marshall.
"Hardly."
"Never in my entire life!"
Mac then beamed at Hester, clearly feeling his point had been proved. She only winced back at him like she'd suddenly had a headache come on.
The server returned abruptly to take their orders, prompting Mac and Wes to speak up and give the others time to finish deciding. Marshall was right behind them with his order, and the twins watched him closely before their eyes zeroed in on Hester as she ordered, then PJ. For once, the young lion didn't seem bothered to be served last, and took his time asking a few questions and being particular about his choice and how he wanted it made.
The Nightwatch twins didn't stop staring at him the entire time, eyes gleaming as he described the food he wanted.
As the server collected their menus and prepared to leave, Marshall spoke up again, his voice sweet and apologetic.
"I'm so sorry, is it possible for us to also get an additional large basket of the steak fries and jalapeño cheese dip?"
"Of course, sir. Would you like that as an appetizer or with—"
"With the rest of the food, please. Thank you!"
The server left again, and Hester turned a quirked eyebrow to the wolf.
"An extra large basket of fries?" she prompted.
"It's absolutely necessary," he insisted. "You'll see."
There was a low hum from PJ, who was finally looking around with a blatant expression of disdain. His eyes were half-lidded, unimpressed, as his nose started to crinkle in the middle.
"I didn't think it would be so…" He paused, lip curling up again. "Squirrel-themed. There are squirrels and chipmunks everywhere."
Hester took the opportunity to glance around them as well, taking in the patterns on the ceiling, floor and the various chairs and tables. "And acorns and leaves and fur patterns," she added. "I knew there were the mascots outside but this is somewhat overboard."
"Can't focus on it too much or my skin crawls," Wesson remarked. "Not to mention it gets hard on the eyes, it's too colorful."
"Really??" Mac looked at his brother in open surprise. "I think it's fun."
The phrase "of course you do" was chorused around the table between Wes, Marshall and PJ, at once expressed with exasperation and yet a sort of long-term, well-cultivated patience. Hester noted this, then looked up at the ceiling once again, a pensive frown on her face.
"Well, clearly there's some sort of reason behind the theme," she began.
"Children's story," Wes supplied.
"'Boutta coupla squirrels who go on adventures and get upta mischief!" Mac added. "Pretty sure we read it as kids. Those mascots sure do look an awful lot like some o' the pictures in book, don't they, Wes'n?"
His twin shrugged. "Don't remember the book too well, just the cartoon. But I guess so, yeah." He seemed distracted, and just as quickly as he'd answered, he went back to looking around suspiciously, like he was waiting for someone or something to cause a problem.
"Of all the things for a diner theme…" PJ scoffed. "And from a Night Raven College alumn? Strange choice."
"I don't disagree, sir," Hester said, picking up a straw wrapper and starting to fold it absently as she looked at him. "If you're dissatisfied, we could leave."
"We just ordered, we can't leave now."
"As you say, sir."
Both vultures looked at them with unusual focus and anticipation when they'd said that, but resumed their usual postures with rapidity, and Mac even looked a little crestfallen.
"You don't like Crisp 'n' Dips?" he asked in a wounded voice, like this was personally on the verge of breaking his heart. Surprisingly, PJ did seem a bit awkward at that, and focused on swirling the ice in his glass with his straw.
"I- no, I'm not- I don't…" he stopped himself, inhaled deeply through his nose, and let it back out as he said, "It's just new, that's all."
Marshall hummed a little at that, nodding his assent. "Takes a bit of getting used-to," he said. "Food's not bad though."
"It better be decent," PJ said warningly, before glancing back at one of the larger decorations of the squirrels. "At least there's no animatronics… I'm not sure I'd have come here if there were."
"Me either," Marshall agreed.
"Of course not," Hester said primly, holding her chin a little higher. "I think we can all agree that we're all a little too old for that sort of thing." When none of them made a move to agree, she squinted at them. The silence stretched a little further, and she said somewhat testily, "We're all a little too old for restaurants with animatronic mascots, aren't we?"
"We're plenty too old," Marshall agreed quickly, folding his arms. "And we're plenty too used to breaking them."
"Exactly, we're all— Wait, breaking them?"
"It's a long story."
"We got banned for life!" Mac said, absolutely delighted. "Ain't that somethin'?"
"From where?" Hester asked in alarm.
"How was I s'posed to know the skee ball would go kamikaze?" Wesson grumbled.
"That was impressive, to be fair," PJ mused. "I've never seen a skee ball fly like that."
"Where were you all banned from?!"
"Hey, I didn't throw the second one, that was all boss!" Wesson said, pointing a fast finger at Marshall.
"Put that hand down, it's a lethal weapon," Marshall huffed, pushing the accusing finger away. "An' anyhow, I only threw one to keep the other damn mascot from fallin' on Mac. Didn't have an impressive flight path like yours."
"But where—"
"Far more destructive though," PJ said.
"Wuz only tryin' t' help the poor thing after Wes'n hit it," Mac explained. "I don't think those ma'tronics should go crunch like that."
"I'm never getting the answers to this, am I," Hester muttered, pulling at her face.
"Our dads took care of the mess afterwards," Marshall said. "So it's fine, doesn't matter."
"Yeah, but now I can't touch a skee ball without wonderin' if I'm gonna hit a person this time," Wes grumbled. "The stupid robot was bad enough."
"Eh, as long as you stay away from the skee ball here, I think we'll be fine." Marshall punctuated this with a pat on Wesson's back that didn't seem to reassure him all that much.
Hester, having recovered with incredible speed, shook her head and waved a hand dismissively. "I suppose the details are unimportant, given we'll never go to the place," she said mostly to herself, before looking between all the boys. "Are there any other ill-fated escapades of yours I should know about?"
They all exchanged a look, and eventually Marshall asked, "Uuhhhh…which one you want us to start with?"
Nothing could have prepared the naga for this, and as she struggled to come up with any sort of response, the server returned with a massive tray of food.
"Alright everyone, we have our new limited time chicken piccata pasta—"
"Ooh, yes, that's mine, thank you," PJ said, eyes lighting up as he gently took the plate and settled it behind his blockade.
"One of our signature Crisp 'n' Dips burgers with smoky honey mustard sauce for the onion rings—"
"Well thanks!" Mac said, beaming as he happily accepted his plate.
"A Reuben with extra fries—"
Hester lifted her hand, then offered a sincere thanks as she accepted the plate, set it before her, and immediately started reaching for the hot sauce.
"The honey bourbon gourmet burger—"
"Ah, wonderful, thank you!" Marshall reached for his plate, ears going right up in excited anticipation.
"And the second C&D burger, with no sauce for the onion rings—"
"Thanks, 'preciate it," Wes said as the plate was handed to him.
"And," the server finished triumphantly, lifting a large basket off the massive tray and setting it neatly on the table before Marshall, "the extra fries with jalapeño cheese sauce."
"Oh, perfect!" The wolf's eyes lit up then as he clapped his hands together and turned a broad smile on the server. "This is great, we're all set!"
Dismissed, the server left, and Marshall immediately lunged, hands closing over the handles of the large, serated knives stuck in each of the twins' burgers. "I'll just be taking these, thanks."
Each of them squawked, defensively reaching to protect their burgers as the knives were pulled free and carefully wiped off and set aside. There was little other ceremony as the party began to dig in, each eager to finally have the late lunch they'd planned.
"Whew, the onion rings are fresh!" Wes said on an exhale, waving a hand in front of his mouth. "Good mix of crunchy outside 'n' tender inside though."
"Yer missin' out, Wes," Mac said, waving an onion ring he'd already taken a bite out of before dipping it back into the sauce. "This's some pretty tangy stuff, real savory-like!"
"I'm good," Wes said, before biting into the massive burger he had and letting out a sound of approval. It took him a moment to chew and swallow before letting out another exhale, the corners of his mouth giving the slightest upward curve, and he declared, "Gotta be the best burger I've had in a while."
"Did you not get that the last time you were here?" PJ asked, only mildly surprised when both twins shook their heads. "Ah, I suppose I should have expected you two would be working your way through the entire menu gradually."
"Speakin' o' workin' our way through the menu," Mac said, leaning around a little bit to try to catch a glimpse of PJ's plate, "how's that fancy-soundin' pasta?"
Having finished cutting bite-sized pieces, PJ speared one with a fork, wrapped some of the pasta around it with a twirl, and popped it into his mouth. As he took several chews, the lines of his face relaxed into something content, and the hint of a smile started to form.
"Perfect balance of acidity from the lemon and the smoothness of the butter," he announced. "The chicken's tender but not undercooked; perfectly juicy."
Hester, apparently relieved at this declaration, turned to look at the sudden movement in her peripherals, and saw Marshall completely ignoring the fries on his own plate to grab one from the additional basket.
"What's the point of that?" she asked with a frown, and as Marshall blinked at her, she saw two wiry arms on either side of the wolf slip in and steal fries off his plate.
"What's the point of what?" he said, before biting into the fry, seeming to notice something wasn't quite right…
And then going "Ah, right, I should try the cheese dip."
He turned the fry around, reached to scoop it into the cheese, and those wandering hands shot out to steal more fries off his plate. Marshall seemingly didn't notice a thing, and he sat back and popped the rest of his fry, now with a light coating of the sauce, into his mouth and chewed, ears twitching. Hester looked from him to one twin and then the other, both of them making deer-in-headlights eye contact as the ends of stolen fries disappeared into their mouths.
Realizing now that the remark earlier had been in total sincerity and struggling to decide whether Marshall was clever or just complacent enough to work around the fact the twins would steal off his plate, she quickly grabbed the hot sauce again and resumed slathering her fries in it. Perhaps it would be a deterrent.
She made eye contact with Wes, who deliberately looked at her fries, then back at her with a wry expression.
Perhaps not.
Squinting, she didn't take her eyes from him as she lifted the Reuben and took a bite, then let out a hum. "Ah…that does hit the spot."
A hand started to inch towards one of her drowned fries and she primly swatted at it, not entirely surprised that next to her, PJ was giving Mac a death glare that had him retreating with the fork he'd somehow found and was wielding. Both the twins were preparing to regroup, and glanced towards Marshall's plate again, but were forced to wait as he bit into his burger and started to chew. His eyes fluttered shut and he let out a sound of immense satisfaction as he chewed, and the twins found their opening to snatch more fries off his plate. He was just swallowing the bite when Wes leaned a little closer to him.
"Hey boss, uh, how's— how's the burger?"
Marshall's eyes cracked open and he let out a low, closed-mouth growl of warning.
"I assume that means it's good," PJ remarked, tone just a touch snide.
"It's amazing," Marshall corrected, his face a brief portrait of bliss before he glared again. "And if you wanna try it, get your own."
"Alright, okay," Wes said, holding up a hand to show he was no threat, while across from him Mac proceeded to steal another four fries from Marshall's plate. "We'll try it next time."
Marshall huffed through his nose, apparently content to leave it at that, before taking another fry from the extra basket. The late lunch proceeded this way for a handful of minutes, the talking kept to a minimum as the five ate at a relatively moderate pace, and vulture hands were either disregarded or warded away depending on what direction they snuck in. Eventually it was PJ who, having finished the majority of his plate by that point, slowed down and brought up serious conversation again.
"Now, as I'm sure the three of you know, it's crucial that despite the strained relations between our schools, we maintain our allyship as much as possible," he began.
Hester turned to him, evidently curious to hear his reasoning, but didn't miss the way Marshall's eyes flashed and locked onto them. He offered no commentary however, and the lion proceeded as though entirely unaware of the reaction.
"Presently, my major focus is going to be elevating my status and social standing at Royal Sword, which Hester will be assisting me with." He paused for a moment and a dark look came over his face that the other four had come to learn was often associated with thoughts of his older half-brother and the resulting inferiority complex. "It is…far more difficult to make and maintain friendships and useful connections than I anticipated."
"Oh I dunno 'bout that," Mac said, kicking his feet back and forth beneath the table. "I got plenty o' friends! Makin' friends is pretty easy!"
"Is it?" his twin asked dryly, and PJ threw him an appreciative glance.
"Not for everyone," the lion beastman said, and beneath the undercurrent of frustration and jealousy, was perhaps the barest hint of vulnerability there as well. Hester nodded along, both for him and for herself. Being a naga came with a number of disadvantages, and among them was a degree of prejudice worse than what was usually aimed at snake beastfolk.
Another attempted sneak attack with a fork broke the tension, and PJ yanked his plate out of reach, then proceeded to clear his throat and continue, "Which is why I want you three to use your connections in Night Raven to potentially secure me additional allies as I make my way up in the world." He punctuated this by setting his plate back down and resuming eating.
If either of the twins had any thoughts about this, they didn't get a chance to voice them before Marshall let out a pointed hum, the sound indicating he was thinking about it and heavily considering shutting down the possibility. As Wes and Mac looked to their de facto leader, Marshall was examining his nails and not even bothering to look in PJ's direction as he replied curtly, "And what if I say no~?"
Hester blinked, not having expected this response from what little she'd seen and heard of the Pomefiore junior so far, and PJ's expression turned dark as he looked at Marshall.
"Eton…"
Marshall turned his hand around, still examining his nails without looking at either of the RSA students. "Don't get me wrong, Percy," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "I know how much you stand to gain if you can get a foot in and make more connections by proxy at NRC, and wouldn't that just be somethin', that, doing what big brother never could." His eyes finally flicked to PJ, who gave a slight squirm, and he went on, "Why I bet you could easily gain better respect 'n' notoriety than him if you did."
Mac nodded enthusiastically at this, and even Wes seemed to consider it and silently agree.
"But the real trouble with this is," Marshall sighed dramatically, sitting back in his seat and plucking up his drink again, idly tilting it in one hand before he looked pointedly across the table and cooed, "I still haven't heard…what's in this…for Marshall and the boys~."
PJ choked, his face turning an interesting myriad of colors as he appeared to process that he hadn't thought about leading with an incentive for the trio, and now he would be scrambling to find a way to entice them.
"He can pay you, of course," Hester began, trying hard to insert herself and smooth this out, but PJ was already shaking his head and muttering "That won't work" even as Marshall struggled to hold back a laugh, his face lighting up with amused mockery.
"Please! Pay us?" he said, a few laughs slipping free despite his attempts to hold it in. "What a pedestrian answer! Come on now, I know you can do better'n that!"
Hester frowned, leaning back in her chair, and PJ started to massage his temples, letting out a quiet groan.
"Ya gotta be creative!"
"Thank you, Macadamia, for the reminder," PJ muttered.
"Hard to be creative without a direction to work in," Hester pointed out as Marshall took another bite of his burger, and the wolf gave her a flat, unimpressed look.
"'M not gonna hold your hand through this one," he said, covering his mouth as he spoke around his food, before chewing some more and taking another tremendous swallow. "You want us to flex any connections we have for your benefit, you gotta make it worth our time. Quid pro quo. An' don't start with the whole 'oh we'll all share in the glory when PJ's made it big' angle, that's no more appealin' than it was every time he's brought it up in the last several years."
Hester glanced at PJ, who winced and looked at her sheepishly for the briefest instant, and she realized exactly why he insisted she would handle negotiations better. Talk about having set himself up with the odds not in his favor. And these were supposed to be some of his childhood friends. How much worse would it be if they didn't have that connection?
The naga glanced between the bird beastmen, trying to calculate, and PJ immediately let out a sigh, adding, "I can see what you're thinking, Hester, and that won't work either."
"I haven't even said anything, sir."
"You didn't need to. Unfortunately, these two nimrods answer to him before anything and anyone else. Assuming they ever answer to anything and anyone else."
Marshall's expression grew more and more smug and self-assured, as Mac let out a chipper, "Ayup! Sure do!" and Wes shrugged and said, "He's the boss", before leaning a little closer to Marshall and whispering, "Nimrod's an insult, right boss?"
Hester let out a groan of exasperation. "Come on, gentleman, surely there's something you want that we can help provide."
Marshall only let out snort and leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. Wes gave another shrug, apparently unbothered or genuinely unable to think of anything. Mac actually seemed to give it a moment's consideration, which apparently was a very difficult thing to do, judging by the confusion on his face, before he bounced his shoulders in a much lighter shrug than his brother's and announced, "Nope! Couldn't think of a thing!"
Other customers were moving about in the diner, and as the NRC trio continued to work on their food and the RSA duo put their heads together to try to brainstorm anything, the conversation lulled a minute. And then suddenly Marshall's posture changed and his face settled into something wary and suspicious as he started to sniff.
"Boss?" Wes asked, looking to him in mild alarm.
"I smell a fox," Marshall said in a low voice.
"A fox?" Hester asked, and even PJ locked in, eyes narrowing.
"Yeah, somewhere near," Marshall said, taking another sniff as he proceeded to glare in a slow pan around the place. "Familiar, too…"
The Nightwatch twins turned from him to one another, and they proceeded to follow his lead, clearly taking this as indication of some manner of threat. The whole thing seemed ridiculous enough to be laughable, but as even PJ scooted his chair back a few inches to get a better vantage point, Hester found herself taking this more seriously. Clearly there was something happening, and they had to be ready for it.
A sudden commotion at the front of the restaurant startled them and drew their collective attention, and they tried to lean in that direction to get a better look. But the more they tried to listen, the more they just heard a few people arguing about squirrels. The tension broke again.
"What about the squirrels?" PJ muttered. "Yes, it's a bit garish and gaudy and overly cute, but it's not as if they're real."
"People often lay the blame in odd places when they overreact to things, sir."
They all turned back to their table…and paused, staring at the sudden gap.
"Mac," Marshall said carefully, not looking up from the now-vacant spot dead center in the tabletop. "What did you do with the extra fries?"
The basket was, undeniably, gone.
"Well gee, sir," Mac said, looking baffled. "I'm not sure. I don't even know what I dun with 'em."
Marshall let out a tired, grumbling sigh and shook his head. "It's fine," he declared. "I've heard rumors before that this place has dealt with food vanishing off the tables without warning. Guess they're still dealing with it."
None of them noticed, now several tables away and free of getting sussed out by the wolf he had beef with, a fox beastman curling into a corner booth out of sight. A broad grin on his face as he glanced back at their table, Bobbi St. Robins was careful to angle himself out of sight so nobody spotted his C&D uniform while he was still waiting around for his shift to start. Phone in one hand to text his friend Jax, Bobbi dipped one of the fries generously into the cheese sauce, savoring the bite as he snacked.
This part-time job was proving to be better by the day.
Stolen food always tasted better, and some part of him hoped those five would come by again and bring their inattentiveness and distractability along. Marshall Eton, after all, owed him a stolen lunch with years of accumulated interest, and the others had a variety of taste in their orders that maybe he could try the entire menu without ever having to pay a sorcent. Mood vastly improved, he whistled merrily between bites.
