He wakes up on his own in the morning, reluctantly sitting up in bed. His tired eyes take a moment to focus on his surroundings, though he can easily identify his room. Bartholomew shoves himself out of bed to get ready for the new day.
He gets clean clothes on, then makes his way to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, it takes him a moment to recognize himself, though he can’t pick out anything specific that feels different. He concludes it was probably just his new earring, which he hasn’t quite gotten used to.
Wanting to move on from this new stress, Bartholomew splashes cold water on his face to wake himself up more. He puts his hand over a towel, wishing to dry the water out of his fur, but pauses to look himself in the eyes. His reflection stares back at him, just as focused as he is. His eyes squint and Bartholomew sighs. He quickly dries off his face and rushes himself outside to get out of what felt like a trap.
The breeze outside is relaxing. It brings a sharp coolness to Bartholomew’s damp face, but it isn’t uncomfortable to him. He’s happy to just stand for a moment and feel the clean air. Then, it’s off to work for him.
“Bartholomew!” Percey greets him as he enters the post office, “I got something that reminded me of you!”
They push a cardboard box further forward on their desk as Bartholomew approaches to check it out. The top of the box is already open, letting the room’s light hit a small succulent inside.
“It’s so cute, thank you!” Bartholomew exclaims, carefully taking the plant out of its box to set on the counter.
“I’m glad you like it!” Percey responds happily, “Your dad always liked plants so I’d assume it runs in the family.”
Bartholomew agrees, looking over his new succulent.
“All I have for you today is one letter, so feel free to take it with you and sit at home after,” Percey continues.
“Alright!”
“Sorry again that I don’t have much work for you to do.”
“It’s fine Percey!”
Bartholomew picks up his succulent in one hand and accepts the letter from Percey in the other. On his way out, he thanks Percey again. He reads over the envelope as he walks, making sure it's taken to the right address.
He passes his own house then stops, looking up from the letter to his neighbor’s house. Bright, frilly decorations are hung in the windows and small, twinkling magenta lights sit in the bushes, she seems to have bought a power generator just to adorn her god. Mouth and eye themes decorations are strewn across the property.
Bartholomew takes a deep, uncomfortable breath, then makes his way to the door.
Almost immediately after he knocks, a satyr answers. She stands nearly a foot taller than Bartholomew, smiling down at him.
“What’cha here for, Bart?”
“Just delivering mail, ma’am.”
“Just mail?” she repeats, politely taking the letter from his hand.
“Yup, have to get home after this one.”
The satyr, Tepia, clicks one of her hooves on the ground, “You’ve got some chaos in your life, huh?”
Bartholomew sighs, “My dad’s sick, if that’s what you mean.”
“Oh no, I’m sorry,” she responds with hardly a hint of worry, “I don’t think that’s it, though.” She has an expression that Bartholomew can’t quite read.
“Do you know what it is?” Bartholomew asks.
“Surprises are always nice!”
“For me?”
“Both of us! I only know the energy, not the situation.”
Bartholomew nods along, awkwardly looking at Tepia’s decorations, “I should get back home, your Saciri stuff looks nice this year.”
“Thank you very much, Bart! Get your dad some Avinas to match, hm? We need things more festive for every god’s month. They might feel overshadowed by Saciri’s greatness.”
“I’ll see what I can do, have a nice day.”
Tepia waves energetically and quickly shuts the door in his face. Bartholomew relaxes his posture in response, quietly taking the short walk home.
When he gets inside, he sets his succulent on the dining table, adjusting it carefully to be in the perfect place. The plant felt special. He stares at where the plant sat at the table and deems it correct, and turns to prepare his dad’s healing drink. He quickly readies the drink, opting for a cold tea this time. He picks up the dish and looks back over at the plant. He picks up the plant back up, and ascends the stairs towards his parents room.
The door to their room is ajar, so Bartholomew can easily nudge it completely open despite having no free hands. He happily greets Manx and Apri, who are sitting on their bed.
“Welcome to the party!” Manx’s voice is hoarse, but full of his usual energy.
Bartholomew hands him the tea and sits in the cushioned chair, “Hey, what’s up?”
“We’ve just been sitting around,” Apri responds, her voice was tired but calm.
“What’cha got there?” Manx questions.
“Percey gave this to me today,” Bartholomew sets his succulent on his parents’ bed, careful to not knock it over, “I figured we could keep it in here for you.”
Manx nods, takes a drink of his tea, then picks up the plant to inspect it.
Apri purrs, “That’s very sweet of them.”
“Tepia said Dad needs more Avinas decorations anyway, two birds with one stone!”
“Maybe she should come decorate for us,” Manx chuckles.
He hands the plant off to Apri, who sets it on a small drawer on her side of the bed. She pushes herself up and opens the window curtain, letting in warm, natural light.
“Thank Percey for us next time you see them, would you?” Manx requests, clicking his claws on his teacup, “Let them know they can come by for a visit whenever.”
“I will,” Bartholomew agrees.
His dad takes another sip of his tea while Bartholomew’s mother sits herself back on their bed. Bartholomew stretches out his arms, and stands up.
“I’m heading downstairs, let me know if you guys need anything.”
“We will, thank you,” Apri smiles with a weary expression, and Manx nods along.
Bartholomew waves his tail with content, stepping out of the room. He yawns as he makes his way down the stairs and into his room, settling into his own bed. His book sits on the floor, reminding him of how much trouble he’s had focusing. He picks it up to attempt to read again.
This attempt is more successful, Bartholomew is able to make it through the words and story, but less smoothly than before these issues arised. He tries not to let his fur bristle up when he has to go back over paragraphs or pages he somehow skips over. Though the change is frustrating, he manages to find comfort in the slower pace.
By the time he finishes reading, he’d only gotten a couple chapters in; much less than his normal. Bartholomew sets the book back in place and takes a deep breath, simply happy to have made progress.
The next day, after lunch, he stays sitting with Horowitz at the table. They joke around as they tell each other about their previous work day.
“What kind of chaos does she think we have?” Horowitz laughs, “Another flea outbreak or something?”
“If there is, you better not give them to me again!”
“I was a kid when I put my fleas on you! Either way you can’t say it wasn’t funny.”
The brothers start to laugh together, but are interrupted by an unexpected knock on the door, causing them to go silent.
“If Tepia is here to convert us to Saciri, I’m gonna kill you,” Horowitz jokes, standing himself up to answer the door.
Bartholomew watches as it opens and Wicker is revealed on the other side. He keeps a straight posture as he greets Horowitz.
“Hello, nice to meet you! Is Bartholomew home?”
The boy in question hops out of his seat and stands next to his brother, “Horowitz, this is Wicker!”
“Pleased to meet you,” Horowitz nods.
Wicker smiles politely, “We were hoping to hang out tonight, if that’s alright.”
“Don’t worry, he already knows!” Bartholomew answers, turning to Horowitz, “I’ll be back home tomorrow morning.”
“Sounds good. Have fun, you two! Take care of him, Wicker.” Horowitz looks into Wicker’s eyes.
“Will do.”
Bartholomew waves goodbye to his brother and follows Wicker out the door, bouncing with energy. Wicker walks calmly next to him and smiles with amusement.
“Someone’s excited!”
“Yeah, I don’t really get to go out much!” Bartholomew replies, “The biggest parties I’ve been to are birthday parties as a kid.”
“This is gonna be a little different then. Hope it’s in a fun way!”
“Me too!”
The two continue their walk to Aedelbark’s housing area where Wicker lives. Though, instead of going to his house, Wicker leads Bartholomew in a new direction to a clean, two-story building.
“The party doesn’t start until later, I just need to help prepare things. You can also take some time to get to know the others if you want,” Wicker explains before knocking on the door.
A satyr answers, her horns look oddly mushroom-textured and her hair is full of unnatural swirls.
“Howdy, Wicks!” she greets, “This your friend?”
“Yup! This is Bartholomew. And Mewmew, this is Cyren.”
Bartholomew waves silently, full of excitement and nervousness.
“Nice to meet’cha, kitty. Make yourself comfortable,” Cyren steps out of the way, allowing the couple to enter.
Bartholomew glances around Cyren’s home. There’s a large, open living room and an archway connecting it to the kitchen. An elf and ember drake are already sat on the couch.
“This is Nirium and Varhanna,” Wicker introduces, “Guys, this is Bartholomew.”
“Your name sucks,” the drake, introduced as Varhanna, sputters.
“Shut up, Varry!” the elf, Nirium, groans, “I’m so sorry about them. They always get high way too early.”
Bartholomew’s whiskers twitch with anxiety, “That’s alright, it’s good to meet both of you.”
Wicker leans into Bartholomew’s ear, “They’re only an asshole in a kind way, I promise. Nirium keeps them in check.”
Bartholomew glances at the two. Nirium nudges Varhanna to move aside for more sitting room on the couch, and Varhanna responds by draping themself over Nirium’s lap. Nirium frowns in mock frustration, but nods for Bartholomew to sit next to them.
“I’ll be back in a minute, don’t worry,” Wicker announces.
After he exits with Cyren, the room is left silent. Bartholomew keeps his focus down to fidget with his paws while Nirium watches Varhanna in their lethargic state. Varhanna waves their long, black tail back and forth, gently tapping Bartholomew’s leg. He pretends not to notice until Varhanna bobs their head upwards to catch his gaze.
“You know what it should be?” they slur.
Nirium glances apologetically at Bartholomew, who replies awkwardly, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
“Your name.”
Bartholomew’s ears flatten to his head, “...What should it be?”
“Lee. You seem more like a Lee.”
“Ah… Thank you.”
Varhanna’s head falls back limply. Bartholomew, with wide eyes, looks back at their partner.
Nirium sighs, “They’re just like that.”
“You’re embarrassing me,” Varhanna whines.
The two continue to bicker affectionately. Unable to think of a way to contribute to the conversation, Bartholomew quietly glances around Cyren’s living room. Everything is very clean and organized; the only sign that the house has ever been touched is the lack of dust anywhere.
“Hey, what’s your problem?”
Bartholomew jumps, realizing Varhanna has been staring at him. His fur bristles as his mouth hangs open, at a loss for words.
Varhanna grunts in frustration, “You hate talking or something? Are you mute, Lee? I think-“
“I’m so sorry, Bartholomew,” Nirium interrupts, “They’re not usually this mean.”
“I can be!”
“You’re so sweet when you’re sober.”
Varhanna huffs, a small cloud of grey smoke exiting their mouth, “What do you think, Mute-Lee?”
Bartholomew is cut off by Varhanna before getting a chance to talk, “See? He just sits there. Makes me feel bad for being mean to him.”
“Do you have something to say about that?” Nirium nudges them.
“I’m sorry, Mute-Lee.”
“Do you want to use Bartholomew’s real name?”
“I don’t remember it.”
Bartholomew chuckles awkwardly, “I don’t mind the name, it’s okay.”
Following the conversation, Wicker and Cyren enter. They start to prepare a table across the room, setting down a stack of cups and small plates.
“What’s up, guys?” Wicker asks the trio on the couch.
“Just hanging out,” Nirium responds, “Varry named your friend Mute-Lee.”
“That sucks, come up with some better names, dude.” Wicker teases.
Varhanna sits up at this, “At least I’m not a basket!”
Everyone laughs together while Bartholomew watches. Cyren’s hooves click on the floor as she goes back into the kitchen, but the three friends continue their banter. Bartholomew looks down at his paws, lacing and unlacing his fingers together in an attempt to pass time.
After a minute, someone nudges his shoulder. He looks up to see Cyren offering him a cup.
“You having fun yet?” Her voice is gentle and comforting, despite being a stranger until today.
“It’s been alright,” Bartholomew nods, taking the cup, “Thank you.”
“Take your time getting comfortable. Don’t worry about pleasing anyone but yourself. Have your own fun.”
“Thank you.”
Bartholomew takes a sip out of the cup, nearly gagging at how sharp the liquid feels in his throat. He focuses on keeping himself together and swallows, wanting to enjoy what Wicker’s friends have to offer.
Cyren snickers and starts to walk away, “We’ve got a lot more to get out, Wicker.”
“You got it, boss!” he responds, following her into the kitchen.
Bartholomew looks into his cup, gently swirling the dull blue drink around. Nirium stands himself up and holds a hand out to Bartholomew.
“That’s probably too strong for your first time here, let me go water that down for you.”
Barrtholomew’s face heats up in unnecessary embarrassment as he hands Nirium the cup, “Thanks.”
As Nirium leaves, Bartholomew stays silently next to Varhanna, who sways back and forth idly. Their hands bob up and down as if in tune to a song.
Wicker and Cyren cycle in and out of the room, setting a mix of different drinks and food on the table. Wicker places a line of black tape on the middle of the table, separating the snacks into two unlabeled groups.
Bartholomew watches them setup until Nirium returns, kindly giving him a new drink. He takes a sip as Nirium makes himself comfortable next to Varhanna again. The new drink is a lot sweeter, still holding a faint sharpness.
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