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Character Plover (OC)Location Pyrrhia/Pantala
Description
And the ending we’ve all been waiting for: Happy All Hallow’s Eve! Thanks for taking this art journey with me! This quest features Plover wildly misunderstanding their therapist, and yet still walking away from the holiday with a better understanding of themself. Though they traumatize many a person along the way with their costume.
But what’s a good Hallow’s Eve without any screaming and hitting your friends with scrolls.
Warning that this does contain some gore/horror language and themes, though not too severe. Still, take care of yourself if needed.
Quest: Costume Party
Word Count: 2240
•••
Therapy was weird.
Technically it was “counselling,” but still weird.
But it wasn’t bad.
At least, not as bad as Plover had feared. And yes, in counselling, Plover discovered that they had a habit of “catastrophizing.” To be fair, their life used to be a catastrophe, but now catastrophizing was just one way Plover was a broken mess of a dragonet who was never going to get better.
Wait, damn it, that was catastrophizing, self-deprecation, and fortune-telling. There went another three copper in the habit jar.
Back to the main topic: therapy was weird. The counsellor was always on about feelings and understanding them. They talked about anger and fear and how they were the parts of Plover that loved themself and wanted Plov to be happy. And now that All Hallow’s Eve was around the corner, they kept talking about expressing those emotions in healthy ways. They’d suggested many things: smashing pumpkins, trying scale painting for the first time, or just having fun with costumes.
And those had been good ideas, so Plover had happily nodded, waved the counsellor goodbye until the following week and promptly made their way towards class. It was easy as salmon hunting in the spawning run to find who they needed.
Plover slammed their claws down on Rainier’s desk, sending her meticulously laid out quills flying. “I need you to turn me into the scariest fucker under the moons for All Hallow’s Eve.”
The feathers splintered on the marble floor. Rainier swore, picking up the pieces with a sharp glare at the shorter Seawing. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” Plover replied with an innocent smile. “So, can you help?”’
Rainier sighed, shaking her head. “Why am I even friends with you?”
“Because birds of a secretive feather flock together. Look, are you helping me or not?”
“Of course I’m helping you, idiot,” Rainier snapped, though there wasn’t any bite to her bark. “I just have no clue what we’re doing.”
“You’re going to help me dress up as a horrifying monstrosity because my therapist said so,” Plover said with a grin. It was the sun-bright one that never failed to change hearts, and sure enough, Rainier’s scowl faltered and fell within seconds.
“Fine. What do you need from me?”
“Knives, metal claws, and one or two spears.”
Rainier stared at them for a long while. Plover’s smile didn’t dim.
“You know what,” Rainier said with a small smile lighting up her face as she rolled her eyes. “Screw it, what are friends for anyway?”
•••
Plover’s next target was harder to find, however. A fashionista was what Plover needed, so they went hunting. And anyone in the Amethyst Talon knew who their fashionista was.
They eventually found Steezy in his room after Plover threw open his door.
“Sweet FUCKING spirits in the ice!” Steezy swore with a start as his makeup brush went smearing across his snout. “What the hell do you want, asshole— oh shi— shoot. Hi Plover.”
Plover smiled as they waved their claws in a modest greeting, compared to the door that Plov had nearly torn off its hinges.
An odd silence fell across the chilly room as Steezy stared at Plover, almost shy. It was strange: Plover had seen how Steezy worked his magic with language. But whenever the conversation turned to them, those words always seemed to dry up.
Though Plover didn’t have any words for anyone, so they didn’t judge Steezy for needing a break from speaking. It was one Plover was happy to provide. Plover broke out their planner and pencil with a simple request.
“I need your help.”
“Oh, of course, anything.” Steezy practically dropped everything as he looked Plover over. There was genuine concern in his voice, something they’d never heard from him before. “Are you alright?”
“I need you to turn me into the scariest fucker under the moons for All Hallow’s Eve.”
Steezy sputtered, the side of his snout not coated in makeup going a dark purple as he stared in shock at Plover’s writing. “You— you need what?”
Plover underlined their previous sentence.
“No, I get that, but— what?”
“I need you to do my makeup to turn me into the scariest fucker under the moons for All Hallow’s Eve. You’re the best with makeup in our Talon,” Plover wrote, watching Steezy’s blush go even brighter. Though, with all that colour, it was easy to spot the white smear across his brow from the thrown brush. “You’ve got something on your snout.”
Steezy’s brow furrowed as he turned back around, glaring at his reflection in the mirror. Though he scrubbed at the white paint, all he succeeded in was smearing it further. Eventually, Steezy simply sighed, admitting defeat and turning back towards Plover.
“Ugh, yeah, that’s not coming off for the rest of the day.” At Plover’s curious gaze, Steezy gestured vaguely to his left, unpainted side of his face. “It’s to accentuate the blues in my scales. Not all of us hatch with perfect complementary colours like you, Mr. Perfect Purples and Pinks. ‘Paint’s the best we got since permanent pigments are so fu — fudging expensive. Anyway, I’m guessing you want my makeup?”
Plov couldn’t help but smile at that banter. There was the Steezy the Amethyst Talon loved! It was lovely to see him getting better with his words.
“I want to make my wings brighter,” Plover answered, lifting a wing to reveal their red glow circles. Sure, Plover could keep their lights on the entire time they’d be in costume, but that got exhausting quickly: paint was a much better option. “And my throat splotch drip. Plus some random blood splatters and tears.”
In short: Plover wanted to look like they’d been dragged up from the seabed kicking and screaming, and they were going to get that.
But while Plover was practically bouncing on the balls of their paws, Steezy’s reaction wasn’t anything that they’d expected. Plov thought he’d be delighted to dress them up or practice his skills on a new target. At the very worst, he’d take it as Rainier did: annoyed but with begrudging amusement and acceptance.
Steezy didn’t react like that, though.
Instead, Steezy’s jaw dropped as he went pale as a blobfish, something Plover might’ve called horror in his eyes.
“Why?”
Plover thought it was apparent why. Their therapist had suggested venting their emotions through Halloween activities, and what was a better way of doing that than dressing up as their fears?
But before Plover could explain that, Steezy took a deep breath. Though he was still far too pale and rather furious looking, it was within Icewing and Steezy standards.
“Like—” Steezy hissed, shaking his head before continuing. “Why would you want to draw attention to them? Where do you even get them? I’ve never seen a true Seawing with colours that crimson.”
“They’re red, actually.”
“Well, you’re not wrong, but that doesn’t answer my question.”
Plover looked Steezy over in confusion before nodding. Yeah, the specific colour of their splotches could wait. “Odd colours run in my family. My mom was melanistic, my father was orange, my dad’s got orange-pink too, and my papa’s glowscales are fireflies. Weirdness runs in the family. These colours are mine, and they keep me close to my family. Plus, my throat splotch makes me look like a bird.”
Looking more like the best animal under the moons was reason enough. But the fact that they brought Plover closer to their family was another, as was just straight-up liking them. Why was Steezy so confused about Plover’s spots? They were just spots of coloured scales, pretty or not, but they were Plover’s.
It wasn’t like Steezy had any.
After a while of staring at them, Steezy slowly nodded. “I’ll help you on one condition. I get a cut of your trick-or-treating candy.”
“Wait, I get candy?”
•••
The final dragon on Plover’s list was a stop they were already making, as Merlot and Plov alternated bringing food to their shut-in talonmate. So at supper time, Plover knocked on Magpie’s door with an offering of soup and chamomile tea.
“In a second!”
A minute ticked by before Plover knocked again.
“Oh shoot, sorry, sorry!” Magpie called again, and something rustled in the room before the door opened. “Ooo, is that tomato?”
Plover nodded, handing Magpie her early dinner.
“Oh, you’re a doll, ‘love! Thank you,” she hummed with a smile. It was so nice to see her smiling again, to see the hope returning to her eyes after she and Plov started exploring disowning her father. “Want to come in?”
They nodded once more. After being gestured in, Plover strolled into Magpie’s cozy dorm, setting the two bowls of soup and tea on her desk. The two of them settled into their supper, and Plover’s bowl was half empty before they got around to their question.
“I’d like to borrow your amazing crafting skills for Hallow’s Eve.”
Magpie went as bright as a pumpkin, waving Plover off with a nervous chuckle. “Oh, no, I’m nothing special. Just know my way around a sewing machine. But I’d be happy to try and help! Let me guess; you’re going as some kind of bird?”
“Close. I want you to turn me into the scariest fucker under the moons for All Hallow’s Eve. My therapist said so.”
Magpie stood there, blinking in silence for a long while.
“You see a therapist?” is what she finally said after a minute of quiet.
“You don’t escape a death-murder-apocalypse cult without needing therapy,” Plover replied before pausing. “Well, I’m seeing the school’s counsellor, not therapist, but it does the job. I talk to them about school struggles and dealing with emotions, not the murder stuff, don’t worry.”
The two dragonets went back to sipping at their soups and teas, finally finishing them. But when Plover went to clear the desk, Magpie held up a claw to stop them. After a deep, nervous breath, she asked, “Could I go with you? Like, we could make scary costumes together? That would be fun, right?”
Plover grinned. “We’re going to be the scariest flock under the moons.”
•••
The first person who saw Plover in full costume was Olive. She screamed.
Olive was a doomseer and therefore foresaw many horrible futures on the regular. But, in her many (completely accurate) visions, she’d never seen horrific bloodsoaked bird-dragon hybrids coming to take her soul.
Said horrific bloodsoaked bird-dragon hybrid waved at her.
Olive did the only reasonable thing and hit it over its wing-covered head with a scroll.
The horrific bird monster yelped at them, and it had a very familiar voice.
“...Plover?”
After pawing at its winged snout, it peeled it off to reveal that first, the winged face was a horrifically convincing mask, and second, underneath that mask was her friend Plover. They were still crying blood and had a hole in their throat, but that was more comforting than bird monsters coming to kill her.
Plover waved at them once more, though rubbing at their now unmasked snout. They huffed, staring at Olive, rather hurt-looking.
Though her self-defence had been reasonable, Olive couldn’t help but wince in guilt. She’d hurt practically a puppy Plover, and nobody hurt Plover. “Sorry, but you look fucking horrifying.”
For some Clearsight-forsaken reason, Plover grinned as bright as the sun at that. They tapped their claws to their chin and gestured proudly to their (admittedly excellent) All Hallow’s Eve costume. The costume was utterly horrific for sunshine and birdsong Plover, with bloodstained and torn clothes and armour made of feathers.
Olive had seen a lot of horrific things (again, doomseer), but this costume was up there.
She sort of wanted to throw up.
“Yeah,” Olive chuckled, half impressed and half terrified. “The more I look at it, the more you look like some horrible fallen angelic beast.”
You look like some horrible fallen angelic beast.
Those words rang in Plover’s head for the rest of the day. Through many compliments and startled screams, it was Olive’s words that Plov kept replaying.
You look like some horrible fallen angelic beast.
Plover stared at their winged mask in the bathroom mirror—the second bathroom, known as the common one or the unclaimed by Steezy one. Though there was likely a line forming outside, Plover still stood there, in front of the mirror.
They looked like a beast.
Plover plucked the winged mask from their snout.
And yet underneath it, even with the blood makeup leaking from their eyes and mouth, they were still Plover. The Seawing in the mirror smiled, and while it was a rather bloody one, it was still that Plover patented grin.
Huh.
Plover spent a long while taking the mask on and off again. Magpie had crafted it well.
Spartan had crafted them well as well.
But Plover could remove the mask.
Despite everything: despite their scars, and bloodied colours, and spears and metal claws, and torn clothes, and monstrous appearance, it was still Plover.
Well then, their counsellor was right.
They’d aced this All Hallow’s Eve. Therapy achieved.
Someone knocked on the bathroom door, and from beyond it, Olive shouted: “You good in there? ‘Taking longer than Steezy does!”
Someone loudly disagreed with that statement from the living room.
Plover snorted and rolled their eyes. Giving themself one last look in the mirror, Plover picked up their mask, their claws and spear, and opened the door to the world.
Image size
1000x667px 1.18 MB
© 2021 - 2026 justspillingcoldtea
Comments2
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Awhh it’s so nice to see Plover getting better! I really love how in-character Steezy is with pointing out the spots, too, and there are like a million more things I could compliment in this so I’ll summarize with “your writing is amazing” like always
