Main Story - Book 1, Chapter 3: Sugar

    After the disaster at Looma’s crowning ceremony, Ghasquerade was tasked with taking care of Florella while their father was stuck meeting with the Dukes. This was, admittedly, not an uncommon occurrence. It’s often that Ghasquerade will be cooking pasta in the royal kitchen, scrounging up first-aid kits to tend to boo-boos, and repairing broken toys in his father’s absence - but this time came with an unmistakable air of unease. Now more than ever, in the failed transition of power, he was intimately aware of the fact that Florella was seen as a target to many. The thought lingered in his mind that, without his father as a line of defense, he was utterly incapable of protecting his sister if the need arose… what would he do if she were in trouble? Or worse, if she-

“Hey, dweeb, are you gonna drink that?” Florella’s voice snapped Ghasquerade right back to their imaginary tea-party. “I worked hard on all of this, y’know!” she snapped while pouring pretend-tea from her plastic kettle.
    “Haha, sorry, Florella…” Ghasquerade nervously chuckled, miming a sip from his teeny cup.
    Florella put on a fake hoity-toity voice as she fluttered to his side of the table, “tis quite alright, my esteemed guest!~” She dropped two wood blocks symbolizing sugar-cubes into his drink, “just don’t let it get cold this time, capiche?”

 

    Ghasquerade didn’t respond with words, only a quiet “...mhm.”
Florella stopped mid-ballroom-twirl to look at her brother, tilting her head slightly. “What gives? Don’t tell me you didn’t want sugar or something.”
“N-No, the sugar’s fine…” he took another sip, his lips were met with wood, “I just… I’m worried about something happening to you while dad’s gone.”
    Florella groaned, “come on, Griff, you know I can take care of myself!”
    “You’re 14, Florella, you can barely take care of your imaginary pet.”
    “MISTER CUDDLEBUG IS VERY WELL CARED-FOR, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!”
    “I’m sure he is…”
    Ghasquerade reached across the table for a toy pastry, clearing his throat.
    “I’m thinking… I’m thinking of taking you to stay with Scovolokia for a while,” he said hesitantly, “you’ll be safer there while dad’s gone, more undercover.”
    Florella’s eyes lit up at the news, “Forreal?!” She lunged at Ghasquerade, locking him in a pint-sized bear hug, “You’re the BEST! I haven’t been able to see Kiki ever since I filled that lawnmower with salsa and couldn’t figure out how to turn it off!”
    “What”
    “Nothing!~” Florella sang as she flitted off to another room. Ghasquerade attempted to bite into the pastry he held, forgetting it to be entirely plastic.

     As the two walked down the street towards Scovolokia’s, they could feel the eyes of hundreds following them closely, particularly following Florella. Looma’s royalty would have you believe that the Sanctuary’s streets are pristine, and that the sky twinkles with the glow of the stars above… truly, however, much of Looma’s capitol was dingy, dark, and dilapidated, only cleaned by contractually-obligated street sweepers and the creatures that ike out a living among the refuse. Single-use wrappers were stacked atop pimplefrond stems, which intermingled with discarded bits of food left behind for who-knows-how-long. Occasionally there’d be a hushed whisper, or a conspicuous cough, small little reminders of how odd the pair of Masklin and Cross-Bred royalty truly seemed to this part of town. In between the artificial silence, there was the occasional, bolder individual whispering to Ghasquerade specifically.
    “You sure she’s doin alright…? You know, without all that soil they like…?” a tall, snakelike figure hissed.
    “Oh! My, she’s a long way from home, isn’t she?” a mother stated before hurrying off with her children.
    Ghasquerade remained amicable at the surface, but each remark only quickened the two’s pace. Stowing away his frustrations, Ghasquerade ushered Florella at a furtively-rushed pace until they finally reached a less-populated borough of the Sanctuary.