lock it pop it drop it

“I think I’d like this one. @/w\@”

It takes you an agony of what feels like hours but you know can only be minutes before you make your decision.

The anomaly you indicated, the single buntercup, looks up at your words. You don’t know if it can understand what you actually said or if it’s just responding to the fact that you gestured towards it, though you suppose it could be either. It’s a uniquely blessed creature, so you’re pretty sure only Neo knows what it does in entirety.

“Really?” The V-class says, clearly doubtful about its ability to keep you alive in the Woods. (Not that you’re not slightly dubious too, considering its description, but…) “Are you sure? :]c"

At your firm nod, she shrugs, lets it go with nothing further than a toss of her head that you can tell is a visible variant of an eye-roll and a mutter. “I-classes. :]c"

And, well, you can’t really fault her for a reaction like that. Even you know that it’s probably not the best choice in creature, after all. But as the V-class touched on, it’s your genes at work; the I-class bleeding heart.

The same bleeding heart that is aching now, just watching the buntercup limp over to you. No, it’s more than just a limp - you’d call it a stagger, more than anything. It walks exactly like a freshly-wounded animal, dragging each step along the polished tile like a carcass’ dead weight. You’ve seen a few creatures around the village that have lost a limb; maybe the whole leg, maybe half of it, maybe a front one or a back one. All the quadrupeds adapt so easily, given time - they boldly rush around as quickly and lithely as their four-legged counterparts.

The buntercup is nothing like that. There’s clearly no wound that removed a front leg, because it’s placed directly in the center like a tricycle, and yet its every tread looks worse than you could have ever expected by watching it stand. It’s almost painful to watch it staggers to a stop beside you.

You place a hand on its head, and you feel no fur. It’s almost like skin, smooth and soft to the touch. You press down a little, and there’s no imprint on the surface of the buntercup, but the anomaly looks up with its single, perpetually-teary eye. You give it a pat, and it leans into the touch.

You know the other classes will probably be here soon to collect their creatures, and you don’t want to delay the V-class from that for too long by lingering here. Rather than make the buntercup follow behind you at its (what looks to be literally) agonisingly slow pace, you gather your arms under its belly and hoist it up in your arms.

Though it doesn’t fight you, and in fact seems perfectly content to stay there forever, you’ve clearly either underestimated its weight or overestimated your strength; it’s immediately obvious that cradling it in a hug like this will get you nowhere fast as you stagger so hard you fall onto your backside.

Your pride is more bruised than anything else, but the creature curling up in your lap does a little ways to soothe the sting. The V-class barking with laughter before you does not.

But maybe this little incident can turn out to be a good thing for you, after all.

You give the buntercup a half-hearted shove, watching as it responds by pressing itself against your chest further. Then you look up at the V-class. You’re hesitant when you speak, choosing your words with a careful picking-over, because you know she’s already done you a great favour simply by allowing you first choice of all the creatures - and you’re about to ask for more.

"Uh, I was wondering… Could I ask for a flaegg too? I know usually only one starter is allowed, and I should catch any other creatures I want. But, I mean. I don’t wanna trade this guy in, but it’s not exactly useful, right? And it’s not like flaeggs are that great either, right? And I’m not late or anything. I’m the earliest notail, even. So it’s not like I’ve earned myself nothing but leftover stuff. So… Maybe if I got these two, because they’re really bad, it’d be okay? And it’d balance it out a little? @/w\@”

The V-class stares at you for a long, long moment. You can’t tell if she’s considering your words, or if she’s just stunned at your audacity to dare and ask for more. Maybe she’s winding up to shout at you and chase you out of the lab. Maybe she’s going to take the buntercup away from you too, just for trying to get her to give you two starters. Maybe you just went way too far, you pushed the line more than toed it, and now she’s had enough -

Fortuna rolls a 20-sided dice. A 18 is rolled.

“Yeah, okay. :]c" She shrugs and laughs. Not only does she not mind, she agreed. You’d be surprised, but you’re not. Not very much, not really; in simply comes the rush of satisfaction that shows up alongside being able to convince someone else to give you what you want.

“You’re right that usually no one gets a flaegg, that’s for sure. Only the late-runners pick it, and for good reason - it’s definitely bottom of the barrel. Even T-classes aren’t usually so sure that they’re willing to bet on its ‘hatched’ form being good enough. At least everyone knows what they’ll get if they work on a seizing bird.

“How much is enough? What will make it come out of its shell? What will even be coming out of the shell? It’s too many variables. The smart T-classes, they don’t want to deal with those kind of uncertainties when there’s safer, less volatile investments to be had. And the G-classes, well… I’m sure some G-classes have raised it up to its full potential.

“But those guys don’t really have a choice. So yeah, basically no one picks them. You can have it. :]c"

“Really…? Thank you so much! @/w\@” You make to get up again, and she must be able to tell what you’re planning to do from your body language, because the V-class retreats a few steps from you.

“Okay, okay. No hugs. :]c" She raises her hands in front of her, like she’s soothing a wary animal. “You’re happy, I get it. Look, I have to go do my job - kids are definitely lining up at the door now. Hurry up and get your egg. :]c"

The words sound brusque, but you don’t take it to heart. That’s just how adults are sometimes, especially when a kid like you tries to go in for some physical affection.

It spooks a lot of them, for some reason.


-


You couldn’t really tell if there was a difference between each flaegg - they mostly looked the same, and they sure floated the same. Some were bigger, you guess, but that was it; none of them had any patterns or anything at all. Still, it seemed best to you to choose the largest one. If you were going to use it as a shield, you might as well use one that was going to cover you best, right? The V-class hadn’t really reacted, so you can only assume that this was probably the better choice of the crop - and that she wasn’t going to yell at you for taking such a fine garbage creature.

You sure are lucky that people usually seem to take a liking to you. You get the feeling no other kid would have managed to get any of the privileges you just did.

You don’t dilly-dally too long; for one thing, there’s no reason to, and for another even you can tell there’s only so much you can get away with. The V-class does have an entire village of other children to pair up with creatures, after all.

You give her a grateful little nod, your palm resting on the side of your new flaegg, and start making your way back to the front of the lab. The buntercup flags after you; it’s not as slow as you had initially expected watching it walk, which is a good thing, but it’s still scraping along the floor to walk, so you guess you still can’t expect too much from it. The V-class walks behind it, more patient than you would have thought she would be about it considering she does need to get back to her station.

Unsurprisingly, by the time both of you reach the outskirts of the building, there’s already a long line. You don’t need to glance at their shirts to know that this has to be the M-classes of your year.

The ones at the very front are quick to spot you and your new creatures, and even the ones who don’t know you by person can still see your own jacket in turn. It’s in no time at all that the mutters start up, rumours and stories being tossed around at such an unusual break in the usual order.

Fortuna rolls a 20-sided dice. A 8 is rolled.

While looking out at the sea (if the sea was a swathe of wave, and if you could somehow look at that wave from the side so that it was single-file) of bird-like faces that are peering back at you and your creature, you feel a ping catch your attention, familiar in the proud way it announces itself. It’s the call of confidence, the knowledge that comes with knowing one is basically the highest class, and the mental stance of someone who knows they’re going to grow up to get whatever they want.

You’re not surprised that he doesn’t step out of the queue, because no one wants to lose their place when it comes to getting their creature, but nor are you surprised that M-46171113 still wants to say something to you about your starter. (You have no doubt he’s already heard about what it - or rather, they - are.)

You also have no doubt that he is going to have something to say about it. As an M-class, he’s often seen following around the adults while everyone else is doing their own quests. Since you have a propensity for being near the adults as well whenever you can, the fact that you know each other is not remarkable.

The fact that he doesn’t like you isn’t, either.

Even though as far as anyone knows, he’s a normal M-class, every time he says something to you, you have to wonder again if the adults are sure they haven’t sorted him wrong. His temperament always brings to mind the subtype you hear is in the Woods instead; but what do you know. Maybe it is just you that brings out the best in him.

You don’t really want to approach him and hear his lilting quips. It’s not like he’s the boss of you, so you wouldn’t do it given the chance, but you know you’re going to have to inevitably pass him in the line if you want out of the lab. You could stay inside the lab too, but M-46171113 would still pass you eventually, so it would do nothing but delay the inevitable.

Ugh.