When the Park was first founded, when it consisted of nothing more than a few small sides and pool, and yet, it was New. It was something that They, those who would become know as the Visitors and Residents, had never seen before. Things like that, New things, drew them like flies to honey, and soon, quickly and eagerly, they had found ways in. Some slithered in through the pipes, shrieking with laughter at their cleverness. Others disguised themselves as human, and if they had too many eyes or they floated an inch or two off the ground, any who questioned found themself having a very, very bad day. Back then, they were simply known as the Gentry, the Fairfolk, and if you were feeling brave and alone and very, very lucky, the faeries.
Time passed, and the fae who stayed began to change. They found themselves becoming quiet, and content, and. Kind. And at first they fought it. Some fled the Park in fear, others ripped themselves to shreds in horror. This was change, and they feared change. They despised it. The Gentry did not, and still do not, accept change easily, and this caught the attention of others. The dragons, the mermaids, the elementals, this Park where the faeries had become something New, it brought them too.
Fairies and monsters have never known peace, and when the monsters arrived on feathered wings and scaly tails, this was no different. For a time. It started with a pixie, crushed and broken on the ground. The fae found their Messenger ripped in half, the mermaids in the pool were poisoned, the Court was vandalized and the Guards nowhere to be found. When the dragon corpse and the Queen were found, entangled and rotting in the sun, it was quickly decided that a truce must be formed if any wanted to survive. And like the faeries before them, many of the monsters rebelled, unable to accept it. Many swarmed away from the park, hissing in distaste. Some tried to sabotage the truce, though never succeeded.Â
They who remained, both faerie and monster, who accepted it, who embraced it, who changed... While not friends, never friends, they have become the Residents.Â
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((quick notes before the story! because bora and nora are both children, theyâll be telling the story together as adults. also: bora = bold, nora = normal))
âYou wanna hear somethinâ from when we were kids? Okay! HEY! HEY BORA!! PEOPLE WANNA HEAR A STORY!â
âHuh? Uh, yeah sure. Which one?â
âI was thinkinâ we could tell about that time we fought the ghosts, down in the tunnels! Thatâs a pretty good one.â
âHah! It is. Okay then, then letâs do it.â
âMe and Nore, we were born in this, this bunker place? We never really found out itâs whole history, but it was made to keep us, and lots of the other PokĂŠmon, safe from something terrible that happened a long time ago. In it, there was uh, a huuuge tunnel connected to a cave system. It was-â
âITâS FULLA GHOSTS! Some were nice ânâ helped us but a lot of them were. Not.â
âYeah, and remember how they used to yell stuff about our souls?
âHow could I forget! They wouldnât SHUT UP about it!! Though, huh. I guess I kinda feel bad for them? Stuck alone in a cold, dark tunnel for hundreds of years? Man, I know I couldnât deal with that! Blech.â
âAnd we were only down there for what? A couple years? At least we had each other and everyone else.â
âI wonder if theyâre still down there.â
âNah, they left when we did. Remember? It was like a, like a lightshow.âÂ
âOh yeahhhh! That whole rainbow explosion thing! That was pretty. I hope theyâre all happy now, Iâd hate to have to beat âem up again.â
âGeez, thatâs what weâre supposed to be uh, be talking about. Whoops.â
âPbbt, I donât think theyâll mind too much! But it went like this: Carrots were practically spilling outta the farm because SOMEONE had slacked off on his duty the week before, so Bore and I got picked to go clean up that mess. As it turned out, some of the ghosts had smashed their way through the barriers weâd put up.â
âThey were mumbling to themselves and, floating around, but once they saw us they started screaming. Theyâre never very clear, but these ones repeated over and over, you should be thankful, you should be thankful. A little, a little creepy if you ask me.â
âFor sure. I wasnât scared though!â
âI dunno Nore, you seemed a little nervous to me, heh.â
âOKAY, maybe I was a TINY BIT scared. But I still rushed in and attacked! Didnât freeze up like someone else did!â
"Nice try, but thatâs my ability! At least my voice didnât crack when I went into battle!â
âHAH! Got me there! You were AWESOME once you actually got in there, usinâ the hail to blind the ghosts and blasting them with the ice.â
âDonât, donât sell yourself short! You leaped right at them and knocked them to the ground, and it was because of your attacks that they ran. Thereâs no way I could have beat them on my own.â
âWe won âcause we worked together!!â
âThis is uh. Really cheesy but. I think I could do anything if it was with you.â
        A brief introduction to the Otherworldly Beings of the Park.
The first thing you should know when working at the Park, is that not all of those who visit are human. They must be treated with respect and care, much more so than the human guests. Be polite and considerate, but take care to protect yourself as well. Do not thank them for coming, simply state you hope they enjoyed their visit. Most parks are built with protecting the employees in mind, iron railings and restaurant salt packets will keep you safe. Take a trip down the lazy river if you are truly in danger of being Taken. Tell your fellow lifeguards, one of the Visitors desires your company, we will understand and keep you safe. We always protect our own, do not fret.
           An overview of the Two Kinds found at the Park.
There are two kinds of Otherworldly Beings at the park. Those who stay, and those who leave. Those who leave, the Visitors, are the dangerous ones. The children with screens in their bellies and eyes that click. The girl who leaves hoofprints in the sand. The couple whose hands are melted together. Watch out for them, and if they smile at you, mouth too wide and overflowing with teeth, make sure you give them a gift before you leave. Butter, cream, or a wooden bead from your whistle necklace will do in a pinch. Otherwise, you may find your work at the park cut unexpectedly short.
But those who stay, the Residents, they will not bother you. In fact, they are entirely different from those who leave. The elementals, the legends, the ghosts, they ignore the human guests entirely. The employees, however, we are the ones they talk to. We watch out for rough water, lending our ear for the days when it all becomes too much. We leave gifts for the ever present breeze as it carries laughter and music with it. If youâre very lucky and it likes you, it even takes requests. We make sure to chat with the lonely mermaid in her wavepool, itâs been a long time since she had a conversation. She leaves us shells she has blessed herself, they are a symbol of her protection, and not even the six heads of the marshbeast that lives under the stairs would dare attack any she loves. Such is the way of the Park.
This is the first in a detailed collection of the strange and magical Beings found at the Park, from the firefly pixies in the lamps to the howling maneater crawling in the pipes.Â
Perhaps next time you visit, you will pay closer attention to the things that donât quite add up. But be careful. The Visitors hate to be seen for what they truly are.
Would you guys be interested in reading some of my writing? Itâd probably be abt like. Faeries and otherworldly beings that live in amusement parks (specifically the one i work at, which shall remain nameless), and their interactions w the guests.Â
You donât have to send me an ask or even comment, tho those would be much appreciated, just pls like this post so I can try to get an estimate of how many people are interested. ty!
- It's filled cover to cover with the day-to-day life of a young lifeguard.
- Flipping through it, it appears Ellis was a writer as well. Some of the things they recorded as "normal" are quite extraordinary!
-----
Item Drop: Park Bestiary
- A three-ringed binder.
- Each page contains a detailed description, and occasionally an illustration, of a Faerie or Monster that inhabits someplace simply called "The Park."
- The binder's clean blue cover contrasts oddly against the pages within, most of which are cracked and yellowed with age.
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so uhh those ziz words i was talkin about? hereâs some of em. these are teeechnically spoilers but itâs about just one event in Zizâs backstory so i feel fine sharing it :> and thereâs a couple New chars mentioned so feel free to ask about em if thereâs confusion!
**
Ziz only sees him when he slides out of the shadows. Itâs unsettling, really, how someone that tall can appear out of thin air.Â
They open their mouth to speak, but he holds a hand up before they get a word out.Â
âSo youâre the one Splitter wants me to see. I see. I expected someone a little more... impressive.âÂ
Ziz breathes in and remembers that this man, Seymour, is supposed to help them, and chooses not to say the multitude of colorful insults on their mind.Â
âYes. Iâm Ziz. Splitter told me--â And Seymour cuts them off again.Â
âAh, ah, ah. I know what Splitter wants me to do, but honestly, Iâm not sure you deserve it. Youâre uncertain, untried, wet behind the ears, and you didnât even question if coming to see a stranger who you know nothing about is a good idea? Hm hm hm⌠not good, not good at all.â
Ziz sniffs, pride stung. Theyâd made it here on their own. He could at least give them some credit.
âAll right then. Iâm sure I can get along just fine without your help.â
Seymour cackles. âCan you really? Youâre in the business now, baby, everyone knows who you are! And! And and and! Youâre alone. Splitter helped you once because they like you. But they wouldnât hesitate to well, split you, if it should come to it! So really, what can you do?â
Ziz balks then, because, damn him, he's right. They can run, they can steal, and in a straight brawl theyâd win against someone their size, but no one fights fair. So they grit their teeth and sigh.
â...Fine. Fine. Youâre right.â
Seymour titters. âOf course I am!â His demeanor changes then, becoming still and contemplative. âNow, you're weak, extremely so, but you have potential. Many kinds, yes yes? But I am here to help with one, because I have seen whatâs in store for you, and you will need my help for this one.â
He slides around the room, fluid as smoke. âBut you⌠oh, oh oh. There are so many paths for you. To heaven or to hell, to walk the high path on stockinged feet or to crush the low road beneath your boots⌠to put it lightly, itâs simply cosmic.â
He claps, a smile reminiscent of the Cheshire splitting his face wide open. âSo! A test. Unfortunate, but necessary. And so so so sorry, but thereâs no backing out of this one.â
Ziz inhales sharply, immediately wound tight as a spring. This isnât the worst situation theyâve been in, not by a long shot, but it could go downhill fast. And they get a feeling this wonât be resolved easily.
âNow then,â says Seymour, and heâs still smiling like heâs got the world in his palm. âThis test of mine, is quite simple! Yesterday night, I forgot a starstone out in the forest ruins. How terribly, terribly forgetful of me! But luckily for you, all you have to do, is retrieve it!â
Seymourâs grin becomes cunning, almost threatening. âBut oh oh oh, do be careful. Itâs got a guardian now, and they are horribly protective of it.â
Ziz curses under their breath. Starstones are notorious for their transformative properties, sought out by collectors, scientists, and alchemists the galaxy over. Spending even an hour under their aura was liable to cause damage, and Seymour claimed his had been lost for over a day. There was no way this would go well.
Ziz is snapped out of their thoughts by Seymour shoving them out the door with a pat on the shoulder and their bag tossed unceremoniously over their head. They huff, sigh, and grit their teeth. Fine then. They'll do this, and show him they worth it. Ziz turns towards the looming jungle, their eye catching a small, almost hidden path in the underbrush. There doesnât seem to be anywhere else to go, and so Ziz takes their first step on the path.
âYou never know,â they think, quiet hope bubbling up in their chest. âMaybe his starstone is guarded by like, a mouse, or something. It wonât be so bad.â
Ziz gets to the ruins, and the closer they get the quieter it is. They heard rustles, animal calls, saw insects skittering around, but the closer to the town the emptier it gets. By the time theyâre at the ruins itâs dead silent. Itâs started to get dark and they can see a glow from the middle of the town. Brushing their way past vines that have grown between the houses, they can see Seymourâs glowing golden starstone sitting in the center of the ruins. Curled around it is something that used to be a person. It resembles one in only the loosest sense of the word. Ziz inhales, sharp and painful.
Itâs a Faskaye, like themself. But itâs mask is melting, dripping down itâs face, revealing bone and sinew below. Itâs arms and legs have too many joints, clicking back and forth with the sickening crack of bone and muscle contorted into shapes they were never meant to make. But perhaps the worst thing is itâs face. Where itâs eyes should be, there is only skin, marred by long scratches oozing blood down itâs cheeks. The thingâs mouth is pulled into a rictus grin, pain and deranged joy peeling itâs lips away from the too many teeth stabbing out of itâs gums. And above itâs broken face, resting on its forehead, is a single, weeping eye socket. A gaping hole that seems to suck in everything and yet see right through the world.
Ziz sucks in their breath, soft and slow. But not quiet enough. They freeze in horror when the abominationâs head creaks slowly to face them, turning and turning and then turning some more. They can hear the crack of its neck from here, and swallow the bile rising from their stomach. They take a step out into the clearing and at once the creature rises, itâs too-long legs straightening with a wet snap. Itâs hunched over the starstone, back curled at an angle that shouldnât be possible. Ziz swallows again. God, they donât want to do this. They donât. And then the thought strikes them.
They could just⌠leave. Run away. Take their bag and their shame and run. Find some empty planet and live out a life of solitude, watching the stars turn slowly without them. It would be so easy. They stand there, watching the once-person with itâs blood-stained face and empty, sucking eye socket and they want nothing more than to run away. And just as theyâre about to take a step back, towards freedom, towards cowardice, towards safety, the once-person stumbles and it howls. And it isnât bestial, isnât hate-filled. This is a voice, and a scared one at that.
Ziz canât hear it clearly, and somehow they almost donât want to. It sounds filled with static, a painful choking, like someone reached their hands in and ripped the dripping words free.
The snatches they do catch, sound like a childâs pleading. â-lease! H- help m--!â
Ziz takes a shaking step back. They canât do this. They canât, they canât, they CANâT--
But the once-kid reach a hand out, twitching fingers splitting apart at the seams. â-m scared! I d-donât--- I donât want--!â
And then the voice stops, cut short as though someone else had reached in and ripped the once-kidâs tongue out. Itâs arm hangs limply in the air, flesh jumping and crawling like bugs are burrowing just beneath itâs skin. Then it reaches down, and picks up the starstone. The realization hits Ziz like a thunderbolt. An eye. The starstone is shaped like an open eye. And before they can move, the thing shoves the starstone into the socket on their forehead. It shudders, itâs whole body rippling like fluid, glitching like a video recorded in an age long gone.
And god, Ziz doesnât want to do this. Doesnât want to look at the once-kid, doesnât want to think about the terrified cries of the kid underneath, doesnât want to think about how they used to be just like them, scared and alone and desperately waiting for someone to save them.
And oh, they see it now. They could leave, theyâve seen what theyâre up against, they could leave and Seymour wouldnât stop them. Not anymore.
The once-kid is still standing there, still rippling, still watching, still weeping blood that collects on their chin and drips down onto their shirt. And Ziz breaths out, a deep, shuddering breath. They let the tears in their eyes fall, let the storm of feelings (fear shock disgust anger, anger, anger) in their belly calm until all that remains is determination and cold, steady preparedness.
And they dig their heel into the dirt and run, towards the once-kid, towards their glowing, starstone eye. Because Ziz, they know what itâs like. Theyâd been alone, theyâd been afraid, and no one, not one person, had ever reached out a hand and said, itâs okay. Iâm going to help you. You donât have to hurt anymore.
And theyâll be damned before they let that happen to one more kid.
