Love Crafted

Daphne finishes her tea and looks out the window of her study. “It’s late,” she says.

You suppose that she’s right, the sun is setting outside and Abigail has already finished her own tea. You’re on your second cup, though this one doesn’t taste as good as the first. The first had little bits of gold leaf on the outside that gave it a nice rich texture.

You finish chewing on your cup and look around. “Are we going home?” you ask Abigail.

Abigail nods and stands up before brushing down the front of her skirts. “We probably should,” she says. “We’re actually pretty far from home, especially if we’re walking through the city at night.”

Daphne shakes her head. “Nonsense, you’ll sleep here for the night. We have plenty of guest bedrooms that are just there to give Edmund and the maids more rooms to dust, it would be a shame if you had to walk back home.” She glances at a tall clock that’s ticking away in the corner then back at you and Abigail. ”Supper ought to be served soon too, though I would appreciate it if you ate what was on your plate without eating the plate itself.”

You think about it, but free yummies in exchange of not eating some things is an okay trade. “Alright.”

“Are you sure, Daph?” Abigail asks.

“Don’t be daft Abi, you know I love having you sleep over,” Daphne says as she reaches a hand out and pats Abigail on the arm. “Now come on, we should get cleaned up. I’ll tell Edmund to prepare two extra sittings.”

The next few minutes are a mess. Abigail forces you, with threats of withholding pats and snuggles, to wash your face and hands and even the ends of your tentacles in a basin full of warm water, then you both shuffle off to the big room with the long table and the straight backed chairs.

Daphne is sitting at the head already, a small book by her side. There’s two more places set up with plates and silverware to Daphne’s right, and to her left is a perch with a big fat bird.

The bird turns its head way way around to stare at you as you enter. “Who?” he asks.

“I’m Dreamer,” you tell it.

“Who?” the bird asks again.

“That Which Dreams Eternal Between Space and Time.”

“Who?”

“I’m Hypnos’ cousin?” you try.

“Whooo?”

“The Forever Napper. The one which Rests. Cuddler of Causality. Snuggler of Space and Hugger of Tsathoggua.”

“Who?”

You glare and turn to Daphne who has a hand pressed over her mouth and who is busy choking while her shoulders shake. “This bird is supper, right?”

“No, no that’s Archibald, or Archie for short,” Daphne says.

“He’s Daphne’s familiar,” Abigail says as she sits next to Daphne then pats the spot next to her. “Kind of like how you’re my familiar.”

You eye the black and white bird who looks smugly at you with his big eyes and his puffy chest. “I could take him,” you say.

Abigail pats your head. “Please don’t eat Daphne’s familiar. Archie’s actually really nice once you get to know him.”

“Nice is one way of putting it,” Daphne says. “He thinks he’s more clever than he is and spends the whole day sleeping. I loath to imagine that he’s a reflection of myself.”

You ponder over that. On the one tentacle, it’s obvious that the bird thinks too highly of itself. It’s a bird after all. No tentacles and all feathers. On the other tentacle, it spends the day sleeping, which is a great way to spend the day. “I won’t eat him, for now.”

“Who,” Archie agrees with a croon. It’s probably bird for ‘thank you’ and ‘please be merciful.’ Or at least that’s how you choose to translate it.

Edmund walks into the room with a tray and lays out three bowls before each of you. It smells savoury, like some of the roots you ate at the shop. “Sweet porridge with basil and pork,” he says as he places the last bowl before you. A smaller bowl filled with little grains is placed on a mechanical arm thing tied to the pole Archie is sitting on. “And seed for the avian sir.”

“Thanks Edmund,” Abigail says as she flashes the man a smile.

You narrow your eyes. This man brought Abigail tea, then he gave you food, and now he’s being extra nice in front of her.

He’s flirting with your Abigail! If he didn’t just bring you snacks you would be piercing him through with your tentacles!

“You are most welcome, Miss Abigail,” he says with a perfectly flat expression that probably hides all his devious flirtiness. “May I enquire about any special dietary needs your familiar may have?”

“Um,” Abigail says. She pauses with her spoon hovering before her bowl and turns to you.

Your bowl is already empty except for the tentacle rubbing out the yummy porridge from the bottom. “Hrm?” you ask.

“Uh, do you have any special dietary needs?” she asks you.

“Lots,” you tell her.

“You do?” she asks.

You blink at your summoner and she blinks back.

“No?” you try. “I eat lots.”

Daphne starts choking again.

“In that case I will be sure to bring the young lady a large helping of tonight’s veal.” Edmund bows and the waist and walks off. You huff as you watch him go. He might be right that you can be bought off with yummy food, but eventually he’ll run out, and then you’ll be onto him.

“So, Dreamer, most Familiars are from somewhere, and I do like hearing about their original homes. Faraway lands and so on,” Daphne says as she eats her soup really slowly. “Can you tell us about your home?”