Shocked, I cuddled Cap with one hand, practically squeezing the crud out of my poor beastie, wincing, while my other hand cupped over my face. Leste and Gasep were not the only ones affected by my odd reaction. The washer women to my left sat blinking, jaws slack, several splattered with various dyes in a horrible, tye dye splatter paint picture come to life. The vines and dirt and debris covering the face of the keep were absent, the stones it was made of gleaming like they’d just been sandblasted. The men who’d all been gathered for their combat training, sword fights, whatever they were doing flinging swords at one another—I wasn’t really into or interested in anything of the like—all stood frozen. Staring, they moved, turning so they all stood facing me, their attention all centered on me like some strange being out of a fairytale. Or perhaps a nightmare?
“I’m not the weird one,” I blurted defensively, then tightened my grip on my face to force myself to shut the frick up. Horror filled me. I’d done this.
“Female!” Leste came charging back outside. Finding me standing there on the verge of tears, spluttering, gaze darting around at the gathering group come to gawk, I didn’t resist when he came charging up to me and made to grab my arm.
“I just want to go home!” I wailed, and threw myself and Cap at his mercy. “Please, I don’t want this to be real. I just want to wake up. I want to go home. Help me open up the portal, won’t you? I just want everything to be normal.”
“I- You-” Awkwardly, Leste reluctantly put his arms loosely around me, his thin, long fingers giving me a there-there pat of a hug. “Now, uhm... now,” he mumbled, leaning bodily away from me as if I had a contagious disease.
Sniffling, bursting into tears, I ignored his reticence. He was the only familiar, full human in this wretched place. My fingers tightened on the folds of his robe. I’m ashamed to say I clung to the dumbfounded man, who was eyeing me like I truly terrified him in this moment and he’d love nothing more than to fling me off or allow me to disintegrate him or ‘wail’ him to death. Trapped rat, that look said.
“Please don’t make me stay here! I’m sorry I made fun of how goofy you look!” I threw my head back like I was calling the words out to the heavens and shrieked on a screeching howl. Panicking? Me? I was totally losing my shnit.
We both jumped at the sound of shattering glass. People scrambled. Leste and I gripped each other for dear life, our eyes wide, faces suddenly ashen. His beard was scratchy, pressing into my face, his chin digging into the top of my head, the side of my horn brushing his hollow cheek.
“Do you not know how to comfort a female?” Gasep demanded, stomping up to Leste. Extracting me from the mage, Gasep curled me close to his side. As a thick arm squished me into his thick hide, his wing gently curved around me, shielding me from the rubberneckers still standing about for a look at the horned human freak.
“That was me, wasn’t it?” I whispered, staring up at Gasep fearfully.
“Worry not, Lady Vel,” Gasep murmured, rubbing a thick fingered hand down my gooseflesh covered arm. “Come. Leste will have a look at his mirror and we will get you warm and comfortable.”
“I just want to go home,” I mumbled miserably. “I’m sorry about the glass.”
“Alestaire will handle it,” he assured me.
“Alestaire will handle it?” Leste spluttered, his hands shooting out to wave between us wildly. “Why will Alestaire handle it?”
Pausing at the doorway, Gasep glanced at his friend from over his shoulder. “Was it not your mirror that brought this creature here?”
“I- Well...” the mage spluttered.
Eyes darted to the magic man accusingly, the smithy looking area in particular, I noted as I stole peeks from over the top of Gasep’s wing, where all the glass I’d shattered seemed to originate from.
“Be havin’ a word wit ya, mage,” the lion man grunted out gruffly, causing Leste to laugh nervously. The mage’s hands began to wring and he swallowed hard.
“Of course, Heim,” Leste blustered and flustered, holding a finger up, “be only a moment to raid the Riott’s coffers.”
Once more Gasep was leading me back into the enormous castle.
A towering form blocked our path as we reached the fork before the wizard’s quarters, the wild-eyed behemoth that reeked of vanilla and a hint of honey, a baked good sprinkled with orange fur, scowling down at me. “Your female licked me,” he accused, his sharp gaze focusing on Gasep.
“She is not my female, and I am sure she has a reason for her actions.” Gasep, smellin’ all manly and leather and such, had to give me a little nudge to get my brain goin’ as I gaped up at the angry Creamsicle-corn staring at me like he wanted to chop my head off. As I stood there mutely, his gaze slid lower, traveling over my trembling frame, Gasep’s arm and wing around me, and then fell on Cap, trembling in my arms along with me, his naturally bug-eyed gaze averted from the churlish orange monster bearing down on us.
“I’ll have an answer, mage,” Creamsicle demanded.
In the heat of the moment, I blurted, “You don’t taste as good as you look.”
A small, quickly smothered chuckle snuck past Gasep’s tightly pursed lips but his expression remained stoic, impassive in the face of Creamsicle’s kill y’all now looks.
My eyes bugged and I began to tremble harder. Crap. I looked like I was doing a fine impression of Cap. “That... didn’t come out... right.”
“Breathe, Lady Vel,” Gasep instructed, chuckling softly, “Broz will not harm you.” Grunting, he added, “I would not let him.”
Broz stood to his full, ridiculously tall, intimidating height, scowling for real this time at Gasep, leveling a dark look on the dark furred Pegosian. “I would not hurt the little horned female. She is strange, yes. I am not familiar with the mage’s mating rights.”
“Mating rights?” I squeaked, as Gasep pressed his way forward, Broz backing up to let him pass. “I just wanted to see if you were real,” I garbled out, rushing past Gasep, leaving him to Broz’s mercy, to practically dive into the safety of Leste’s chambers.
“How am I not real?” Broz demanded, Gasep murmuring low to him. “I am standing right here before you, am I not? What was I supposed to taste like? What does it mean?!!” Creamsicle retorted brusquely, his voice rising as he spoke.
“I’m sorry,” I called from the safety of Leste’s digs, tempted to do my own swan dive into the dirty clothes pile and hideout for a bit, at least until Leste reappeared to get the mirror working again.
“I am not saying she cannot taste me,” Broz protested, his voice growing loud, echoing down the corridors, “I will have my answer, Gastelairephon. What is the meaning of-”
Gasep offered me a small, friendly smile as he closed the door on Broz, who was trying to peek in at me from over Gasep’s wide, winged back. “I would assure you he will bother you no more, but...”
“I licked him,” I finished for him, solidifying my station as weird human chick trapped in animal people land that may taste you at random.
Hands behind his back, wings rustling, he quirked a brow. “I admit to some curiosity on the matter...” he let the words trail off.