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Albian Nights (A Creatures Story)   
PastelBat

PastelBat
United States  


  7/22/2017

The trees rustled ever so softly in the Albian forests, sending chills up the little norns’ spines. It had been awhile since the caregivers left the windmill, so the norns went into the garden. They played and ate all the lemons and honey they could get their hands on. All six of the little babies cuddled against the cuddly tree and played with their favorite ball, while the adults gathered around to listen to Hawkbit play the didgeridoo.
The sun was setting now, and the babies all piled into one big nap pile. Hawkbit and Bluebelle began picking them up and bringing them inside so they wouldn’t freeze out in the open. They were very quiet, trying hard to not wake them up. Kylie, a young and very sleepy bruin norn, watched them place the napping norns next to her on the beds of moss. She yawned and welcomed the warmth, pulling a little girl named Poppy close to her chest. Poppy mewled and squirmed, then settled against Kylie’s chest.
Bluebelle, after setting the last of the babies in the bed off moss, went off to find Pippin. He was one of the caregivers’ favorite norns, but he didn’t really like to be around other norns. He always hated to feel crowded, and so he was usually found by the sea. Pippin loved the sea, and Bluebelle loved Pippin. It’s too bad he never really liked her back. Or like her at all. He never really liked any other norns besides that prissy Hardman norn, Rosie. She wasn’t gonna give on him though! She was gonna get a kiss from Pippin, no matter what! Pippin sat on the pier, hunched over in the soft, pink blanket the caregivers gave him. He sighed as he heard Bluebelle approach, recognizing her scent in the cool, Autumn breeze. “I don’t want company,” said Pippin, firmly. He didn’t have to turn around to know how dejected Bluebelle became.
“Well, I think Miss Honey is in trouble. Neither of them have been out all day. They were in bed last we saw them.” Bluebelle informed him quietly, holding her own paws as she sat next to him.
He sighed once again. “It’s called depression, Belle,” he started. “She has lost all interest in doing anything today, so father takes care of her when she’s sick. Just like we do for each other when we’re sick. Remember when Hawkbit got a cold and all the youths got him lemons?” She nodded with a smile.
“He was all better the next morning!” she chirped.
“Well, that’s what father does for mother. They would do the same for us.” Pippin told her as he looked at the sunset. She then stood, and turned toward the windmill.
“Well, we should get back,” Bluebelle said. “You have a duty to Miss Honey. You are the first one she hatched from your litter, y’know.” Pippin looked back at her, dreary eyed and ears droopy.
“Plus, I think it’s time for us all to go to sleep.” Bluebelle told him with a yawn, and hopped into the bushes. Pippin looked down at his paws, feeling his heart clench. He missed being in the norn meso with Rosie and Casper and all of his other friends. But as he was Miss Honey’s favorite, he followed her through the portal to Albia. She’s never sad for long. Well, usually. In truth, he was worried. No amount of lemon candy or potato fries or crobster puffs were dragging her out of bed or keeping her motivated. It was weighing him down, and all the norns weren’t helping at all. He thought they were all selfish. At least Bluebelle noticed, even though he didn’t much like her. She was too loud and obnoxious, in his opinion. He stood up, exhaling slowing as he rewrapped the blanket around him and started to head back for the windmill. He thought about stopping to get some manky before he went to bed, as he had troubles sleeping, but decided against it. The little ones could hear a can of manky being opened from a mile away and he didn’t want to risk that kind of commotion. He made it into the garden, and sat down in the greenhouse. He reached for the honey jar that sat on the shelf with all of the buttercups and poppies Miss Honey grew. Alas, it was empty, eliciting another small sigh from poor Pippin. He tossed the honey pot over, and once again stood to walk towards the windmill.
Looking up at the lit upstairs window made Pippin smile. His caregiver was in there, and he knew just what to do when he gets up there. He entered his now quiet home, only Hawkbit was up and about. He was tearing apart tomatoes and putting them in a pan on the stove, smashing them into paste with a spoon.
“Whatcha making, Hawkbit?” Pippin asked quietly. The hardman norn smiled, but kept his concentration on his task.
“I’m making tomato soup for Miss Honey.” Hawkbit replied, adding some butter into the mix. “She’s been awful down lately, and you know I hate feelin’ like a freeloader!” Pippin felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, chuckling softly.
“Thank you, Hawkbit. We need more norns like you.” Pippin praised him, then left him alone in the kitchen. He sat down in the bamboo lift and pressed ‘up’. He waited as the shaky lift took him up to the caregivers’ room. The lift dinged as it arrived to the third floor, and he was greeted to Mr. Mossy. He looked up at the guardian, who smiled down at the little treehugger norn. Mr. Mossy bent down and took Pippin in his arms, petting his hair. “We were wondering when you would come around,” Mr. Mossy whispered. “I’m gonna go get some butterscotch cinnamon cookies for her, okay? Go give her a cuddle.” He set Pippin down, then left in the lift. Pippin walked into the room, looking in awe of the pretty patterns the stained glass window made as the sun’s light shone through. The white walls were colored in hues of blue and pink and green. He beamed at the beauty and looked at the person shaped lump in the bed. Pippin crawled up, liking the feeling of the warm quilt beneath his paws. He looked at Miss Honey, whose eyes were barely open. She looked so different from the first time he ever saw her. All of her color faded. Her blue eyes now seemed a dull grey, her skin paled, her hair seemed pretty grey too. Her cheeks and lips weren’t rosy anymore.
He nudged his way under her arm, and finally, he saw her smile. Miss Honey was so nice, and it made the whole world around him yellow when she smiled. He liked yellow. It was his favorite.
“Hey, Pippin.” she croaked, still smiling at the norn. “Sorry for being so reclusive today. I know I promised we could fly the kite you and Rosie made.”
He chirped and nuzzled his face into her breast. He knew she could understand him, even though she didn’t really have the training to speak his language.
“You’re so patient.” she rasped. “I hope he gets me some Albian Ale. That sounds so nice right now.” She sat up, pulling Pippin into her lap. She pet his hair, and kissed his forehead.
“I love you, buddy.” she whispered, and he felt his eyes burn and tingle. He was always a crybaby with Miss Honey. She made him very, very sad sometimes. He knew she never meant to make him sad, but she just couldn’t help it. Mr. Mossy came back in with a plate with three slices up butterscotch pie, one for each of them. He also carried a bottle of Albian ale. “You read my mind,” she sighed wistfully.
“No, I can hear you downstairs, Croaky the Toad.” he jabbed at her. She chuckled, and Pippin got excited. She was being happy again!
“Is it okay if Pippin gets a piece?” Mr. Mossy asked. She nodded, and Pippin took his slice from the plate. Mr. Mossy sat next to them on the bed. “Are you feeling a little better now, flower?” he asked her, handing her the plate and a fork. She nodded again, humming thoughtfully as she ate a little bit of the pie. Pippin sighed, stuffing his cheeks with his own slice of pie, savoring the flavor. He then hopped off the bed, leaving Mr. Mossy and Miss Honey to their own devices. He headed back down to the kitchen, once again encountering Hawkbit. He was still working on his pasta sauce. “Trying something new, Hawkbit?” he asked, making Hawkbit sigh in exasperation. “Yeah. Who knew that we were out of beet sugar?” Hawkbit whined. Pippin smirked.
“I did. I didn’t know it called for sugar.” Pippin said. Hawkbit let out a soft wail of anguish.
“Why am I the only culinary expert around here?” Hawkbit cried. “No one understands. No one!” Pippin laughed. Tonight was going to be a good night in the windmill.


[nsleepy] professional authors are the amateurs that wouldn't give up. [nsleepy]
 
Malkin

Malkin
Australia  
Manager


 visit Malkin's website: Malkin's page at CWiki
  7/25/2017

aww :D lovely scene-setting :D

My TCR Norns
 
Laura
Tea Queen

Laura
United Kingdom  
Administrator


 visit Laura's website: CC Chat
  7/25/2017

Thank you for sharing, more please! It's been ages since I read a Creatures story that I really liked. [nhearts]
 
PastelBat

PastelBat
United States  


  7/25/2017

I just realized I put butterscotch cinnamon cookies, then I changed it to pie. Oops. lol

[nsleepy] professional authors are the amateurs that wouldn't give up. [nsleepy]
 


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