Alexandr44

The light of the setting sun made the towering bottle-shaped buildings look so beautiful in the evening. The busy comings and goings of the Central Bottles were dying down as everyone made their way home. Tombs wandered the darkening streets in no particular direction as they waited for the stars to come out. With their eyes turned skyward, they didn’t notice they were about to walk through a portal. Startled by the pulsing bright light, the bottlekin dodged into the arch to avoid teleporting. Smacking face first, they fell back onto the path. Tomb rubbed the goose egg starting to form as something landed in their lap: an actual egg. It was a beautiful and chilly morning as Jack unlocked his diner. The milk and eggs were already delivered by kin who sleep than him it seems. There was a lot to prepare if he would feed a hungry Al Qarura, the Jinn and Kin that made their homes here would be waking up soon. Dragging the heavy crates into the kitchen was always a struggle for the chef

Lila Island was a hotbed of activity as one year closed and another started with several bangs. Fireworks flew overhead in a screaming flurry every few minutes to end in a grand display of flashing lights. The beans and flowerlings cheered nearly as loud as the colorful explosions they partied under. Colored lights and paper lanterns decorated the streets as several concession stands dotted the way. Everybody present and nearly every square inch were covered in some form of glitter or confetti from the poppers being handed out. A grey bean shook his head so hard his ears flopped around his dew. “This stuff is getting everywhere,” Ruffling his tennis ball-like wings, Reven retreated to the outskirt of all the activity. His voice barely carried over the booming music coming from a pair of beans upon an elaborate stage. The one with headphones passed the microphone over to his energetic and brightly colored friend who called out as he pointed to the crowd. “Who's having a good time?” As

On a few special days, the forge is cold and quiet, the blacksmith takes a day off and goes to town. Before he left the house he made sure his girls were wearing their new coats. Alice was appreciative this year as Dulcie had taken over much of their garments manufacturing. In fact, as he checked his friends around town, they all seemed to be enjoying the cherry’s additions to this year’s presents all save for one flowerling. Nikolai had his work belt and suspenders on over the oil-stained shirt with the sleeves rolled up. “Close the door will you? I can’t have the humidity getting in.” As Seto entered the little clock shop full of whizzing and whirling devices, he shivered at the draft that blew in with him. The door closed causing a Rubegoldeberg mechanism to set off a tiny train chugging away on the ceiling. The smoke plumed down as it defied gravity on the upside set it ran on. The shop space was full of wild machines that could act as vendors or entertainment devices; all the

It was beginning to look a lot like Christmas around Prism Vale. Even under the warm canopy of Viridian’s forests, there was a cold enough chill that the leaves were adorned with frost each morning. But that didn’t stop some beans from getting up early, or halt the diligent decorating everyone had been doing for the season. Shops had wreaths on their doors and garland around the windows. Baubles hung along the branches with tinseled-up figures of candy canes and elves below. Strings of lights were hung up along the paths in detailed webs and arches, giving couples a wonder to look at. The first time Barry went (and every time since) he didn’t even bother to look up as they went along. Hand in hand with Storm, Barry was more than happy to watch the light play off his friend’s face instead as they walked down the tunnel of lights. That smile and awe, that light... Those baby blue eyes were brighter than the Christmas trees at the center of every town. Stormfly still flashed his little

It was an odd sort of evening, and in some way still a punishment. Alice replayed the conversation from earlier as she followed the group of beanlings and flowerlings she was made to spend time with. “Everything is set up for the Festival.” Her father had begun. “So it is,” Alice replied flatly. “I saw your handiwork in my mornings.” He waited, but got no further response so instead asked, “Did you want to go?” “I’ve already witnessed what is in store.” She reiterated before she said with a bit more bite than she had intended, “Speak freely if you mean to parade me about in unsolicited social venues.” Seto had sighed but remained firm. “Dulcie insists I don’t leave you alone. She wants me to help watch a group of beans-” “Then go.” Alice didn’t often interrupt but given the situation that faced her, she’d rather an increase in her sanctioned chores or worse. “And may your time together be as frightening as it is enjoyable.” “Not leaving you alone.” He crossed his arms in a way

Stormfly fell backward nearly dropping the arm full of bottles in his possession. All around the path were fireflies hiding among the bushes like menacing little eyes. They would flash on when someone approached and give the occasional blink as they followed your progress between the bushes. One of Barry’s brilliant contributions to the plan. It was the weatherling’s job to add a special effect to the whole area. All around in the holes of trees and under bushes Stormy had hidden little bottles of fog. The denser clouds spilled from the trees and hung around the floor leaving ghostly trails in a beans wake. The ones tucked in the bushes were able to cut most bean’s vision by half so even the weakest hider could jump out and scare someone. He had just placed the last bottle completing what he thought was an overall spooky effect. To give it a proper test, he flew down the path just barely lit by his phosphorus bottles. They hung swaying softly in the trees having been painted by

The isle of Jensen was a hotbed for activity and everyone was busy with peaches and pumpkins. The blacksmith was so busy this season fixing up barrels, wagons, and battling the Pumpkin-Sama, that it was rare to find him home. Anyone that stopped by would find his shop left open for any warrior in need of armaments and an expectation of payment at a later time (should they survive to return). Dulcie traveled the forest path that connected the town and cottage in hopes to help the blacksmith decorate his house finally before Halloween got too close. As she neared, the lack of familiar ear-splitting clang or deep melodic tones seemed to tell her that she'd missed him once again. The chocolate-covered flowerling was starting to lose hope when it was quickly replaced with shock. Cobwebs covered the entirety of the cottage, from the top of the chimney to the statues that dotted the yard. It was hard for Dulcie to make her way through the maze of silk that hung on the chiseled heroes and

Jack picked the seeds out of his friend’s hair as he inspected his box for damages. The pumpkin that grabbed him was a pulpy puddle on and around the grey kin. “The nerve...” “You’re ok, though, right?” Jack asked but was cut off as a frazzled bottlejinn ran up to them with paint-stained overalls and a large mallet dripped with more orange mash. “They’re headed to the bottle portal by the waterfall!” She waved her weapon as she gestured to the trees the pumpkins were disappearing into. The boys were splattered with pumpkin as they realized they shouldn’t have been ignoring the little horrors fleeing around them. “I’ll never be able to catch them all if they go through! Can you two help?” “I thought we wanted them out of the town?” James protested at having to do more that night from his position on the floor. “I’m sure I have something that could make it worth your while?” Cecil offered with the chagrin of a smile. Buffeting the kin over the head with his broom, Jack berated his

Many were on the watch for when the pumpkin horde might return. James did his best to tip-toe around keeping out of sight on the quiet streets. He hid in the shadows as a dark jinn with horns walked past. The jinn took a step closer to peer into the dingy alley but thought better than to venture off the lit street. “Ostanes!” Someone called from out sight to the grey kin. James hugged the sack brought along as he waited for the intimidating jinn to pass. He peered over the garbage bins to confirm the close was all clear before he dared to venture along. It had been an eventful weekend for him. The gourds coming and going through the town and wreaking havoc on the town made it hard to plan such a heist. Maple Jack had a cute little dinner that had picked up the name Flapstack Jack’s. The trustworthy kin left his key under the doormat when he went home at night. James slipped in unseen and quickly darted behind the counter. A small check to make sure the coast was still clear and he

For several nights now the oasis and the surrounding areas have been besieged by an unruly horde of pumpkins. The local kin and jinn are trying their hardest to keep the ransacking and mischief to a minimum but that leaves a lot of pulpy casualties to take care of. Many see the waste in leaving the squash to rot in a pile so when usable portions can be salvaged, James jumped at the chance to try more than his usual recipes. With a fridge full of groaning gourd slop, Jack had more than enough ingredients. On top of the usual orders, he managed to fill during the day, the wood-grained kin was trying to balance his experimentation with work. After a few mismeasurements, the struggle with under and overcooking, the chief was happy to say he had his mixture right. His customers were more than willing to guinea-pigs with greatly needed criticism. How else would he know to add more cinnamon and less clove when you’ve been tasting the near same batter all day? James sat on one of the