#its like how everyone gets teeth here! except poppy. cause she's a bird.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

ooo fantasy au Poppy oooo there's so much empty space on this, it's killing me

rambles:

why is there lace? why does she have a neck corset? because she's Gorgeous and I'm the Artist Here. i will always inflict my personal tastes on everyone I draw. pretty bird <3

it's really difficult to put clothes on a bird... stream helped out a bunch with the colors & the leg gear! I imagine that the leather is durable, which is probably the only thing that gets her to traverse less Forgiving terrain. Thornbushes and itchy tallgrass can't hurt her! she's got "boots"! How Does She Secure Them, i hear no one ask. that's what neighbors are for, isn't it? and a skilled beak once she gets the swing of it.

her shawl remains largely the same due to my lack of imagination! i put a lil feather clasp instead of the shawl being tied together to give it a more fantasy-oriented look. i think i succeeded? i like to think so! i imagine that the clasp gives Poppy some stress, though. It's sharp! Ish. it's sharp by her standards!

Poppy's enchanted glasses allow her to "see" injuries and illness, both caused by magical & normal means. this is very helpful in her role as healer, but also extremely stressful - just because she can see issues doesn't mean she automatically knows what they are! to her, a papercut may be misinterpreted by the beginnings of a fatal infection! i like to think that she got tired of needing to hold the glasses in place over her beak and asked if there was a charm to keep them steady. and they confidently had their resident wizard spell them on - oops! the spell was a little too strong! they're now magically superglued on! yeah, those are never coming off.

she also has a magic bag that i imagine was a gift from her family when she left the nest! she'd never directly use it herself - what if she falls in? what if something nasty managed to crawl inside? - but the Neighborhood uses it as collective storage. it can hold a lot! supplies, books, tents, gold, even Julie when she's determined enough!

[boxboysandotherwhump]

The evening before

Sexy and half edited I present to you the next chapter Sahar’s whumpy adventures :D

taglist: @ashintheairlikesnow @vickytokio @orchidscript @what-a-whump @finder-of-rings @salamancialilypad @albino-whumpee @haro-whumps @yet-another-heathen @comfy-whumpee

CW: mention of escaping attempted murder (very briefly), emotional parental abuse (very briefly

Golden rays of dying sunlight sat the last poppy flower blossoms of the year aglow.

Beside Sahar, the bot chimed happily. A bird's evening call and the distant shouts of training students carried over the marketplace, empty except for the poultry farmer and her wife, who waved Micha and Maria goodbye. Maria’s keys jingled in the tea house's stained glass door, glittering in the orange evening light as she closed down her shop for the night.

“Oh and Micha.” Maria boomed, loud enough to reach Sahar’s ears on his way down past the market and down to the hospital. “Could you add twenty pudding pretzels to tomorrow's order?”

Yes, finally! Excitement prickled down Sahar’s arm and made his fingers dance, like pianist hands playing the tune of his heart into the air. He took a mental note to purge his piggy bank tomorrow and stop by after his exam.

Micha smiled. “‘Course. I have lots o’ starch left from last week’s baking frenzy.”

“Oh I can imagine that.” Maria laughed. “Every year I can’t wait for the festival to come but I can’t wait for it to be over, either, once I find myself drowning in food and dirty teacups.” The wide eyed, puffed up face she pulled elicited Micha’s boisterous laugh. For a split second, Sahar’s mouth twitched into a smile, but it vanished as quick as it had come. Morphing into a flat trembling line.

Pull it together. Sahar berated himself, digging teeth so deeply into his lip he nearly didn’t stop in time as pain grew like rose thorns that threatened to pierce through his skin. To break out for everyone to see. You can just go next year.

If they don’t cast you out. Whispered a voice, bleeding poison into his head. Or kill you. An abnormality like you, should ought to stay hidden. Darling, don't give me that look. You know mommy only wants what’s best for you. Hush now, no more tears.

“Friend displays distress. No proper protocol of action found.”

“Wh-wh- what?” Baffled, Sahar glanced down at his new robotic friend, blinking away tears that threatened to spill. It’s green body shimmered in the setting sun, scrubbed clean by Sahar’s hands on their pitstop at the farm. After all, being crusted in mud and moss was no way to be presented down at the herb garden. No second chances for first impressions.

Twelfe glowing visual sensors studied his face for a long moment, before the bot chimed. “Possible cause of distress identified. Initiate protocol six-two-eight-four.”

With a gentle whirr, a small slate on the bot's body opened, exposing something that looked like some sort of tube. Slowly, it extended towards Sahar. A rumbling gurgle picked up, deep from within the bot's gut and Sahar wondered, briefly, if robots could get sick.

Chilly water droplets hit his face, caught in his hair and soaked his shirt collar. Sahar spluttered. Eyes blown wide.

The shock of being misted by the bot like a wilting wildflower washed his mothers venomous words right out of his brain and left nothing but calming cool in its wake.

“Friend’s distress signal decreases. Cause of distress confirmed; dehydration. Rehydration successful.”

Sahar’s lips split open into a toothy, lopsided smile. A wobbly thing filled with sincerity. “Thanks.”

The academie students ran their rounds in the distance. Sahar didn’t notice that one of them broke off and made his way towards him in a lazy jogg. Telegraphing no urgency or interest in the route he took.

Only the disapproval dripping from his tongue gave Gideon’s concern away. “Really? It’s your big day tomorrow and you play around with this-” His eyes flitted over the bot, “what even is that?”

“Lucky-13.” Sahar proclaimed, placing a protective palm on the bot’s head. “Cha- Cha- Charlotte and I- we found her behind the the the border.”

The seemingly permanent scowl edged into Gideon’s face softened into something like honest astonishment. Bushy eyebrows creeped up and his mouth parted into a round little ‘O’.

“You serious?”

Sahar nodded, head flopping back and forth like some overexcited bobble head figurine. Excitement shone in his eyes and burned in his cheeks, escaped from his body through flapping hands. No one had ever looked this impressed by his forest adventures. And Gideon was impressed, right? Oh Sahar wanted to tell him all about the beeping bot and the millipede and how scared he had been crouched under the- well maybe not that part.

So many words flooded his head he didn’t know which one to let out first.

Something in Gideon’s expression shifted, a wall rebuilding itself, the hint of his curious smile turning to stone. Budding closeness calcified in a mere moment.

Gideon snapped: “Whatever. Stop playing around and come up with a plan. Or they’ll skin you tomorrow.”

Sahar’s hands froze mid flap. He wanted to shrink back from Gideon’s stare, from his words that were all the crueler for the truth they held. His hands sunk down like dead leaves, quiet and cold.

Summer wasn’t the only thing soon to die, and leaves not the only thing destined to rot if he truly did misjudge the people of his village.

“Is is is that-” Sahar’s voice broke down to a rough whisper. Shards of doubt scratched his throat from the inside. He tried to swallow them. Once. Twice. “Is that what they do up in in in- up up- do they, they really? Do they really do that at at at-

“The city?”

“Home?”

Silence fell over them, so heavy it threatened to drag them down, grind them deep into the ground. Sahar straightened his spine, pushed up against it.

All the put upon hostility bleed from Gideon’s body.

Cold evening winds heralded the changing of seasons as they tore at their clothes and howled through the woods. Leaves rustled all around them.

“New distress signal detected.” The bot’s soft chime broke the two boys out of their stupor. Sahar gave Lucky-13 a mindless pat on the head.

“You-” Gideon’s gaze held Sahar’s. His voice was quiet, parts of it stolen by the wind, or dawning realization, or maybe even by silence itself, “You’re from berlin?”

Sahar only nodded. For a second all the words had vanished from the tip of his tongue.

“How did you end up here?”

“Escaped get- get- getting skinned. I- I- I guess.” Sahar forced out.

The wind swept the rest of his words away, carried them past the highest treetops, illuminated by the last rays of dying light.

He turned to leave, eyes on the horizon, where a blood red sun was swallowed by endless woods.