#companuary

[calicocatcrafts]

Companuary 2022 Prompt List! This is a list for platonic relationships for people who want to focus on another form of love this February... This will the second year and I hope a few of you will join. Have fun and take care of yourselves!

Written list under cut

Week 1: Memories… 1. "Show A Beloved memory…" 2. "Maybe One From Childhood…" 3. "A Recent Memory Of Note…" 4. "Or A Bitterest Memory…" 5. "The Sweetest Memory…" 6. "And Confusing One…" 7. "Peek at a future memory" Week 2: Favorites… 1. "Favorite Places To Go To…" 2. "Sweets To Make Together…" 3. "Hobbies That They Have…" 4. "And Music To Dance Too…" 5. "Traded Treasures…" 6. "Game To Play…" 7. "Or Comfort Foods To Warm The Day" Week 3: Expressions … 1. "How They Show Their Love…" 2. "And Comfort Each Others Fears…" 3. "Calm Stormy Moods…" 4. "Untangle Their Stress…" 5. "Maybe How Their Joy Sings…" 6. "Or Irritate Each Other…" 7. "Hope They Aren't Bored Yet" Week 4: Bits & Bobs! 1. Random Fact About Them! 2. Do They Have Pets? 3. What About Family! 4. Show Their Little Rituals! 5. Lets Get Dressed Up! 6. Night Out On The Town! 7. Finish Line!

[preciseprose]

[calicocatcrafts]

“Maybe One From Childhood…” - Companuary Day 2 Lea and Sprout when they were little kids! Look at them go! I got a little sick but now I have the energy to do both and the one for today will be posted up before midnight. [image id: Two children one bigger and one smaller. The bigger one is carrying the smaller one. They are charging while the small one hold a stick like a weapon.]

[calicocatcrafts]

Companuary Day 4 - “Making Plans”

“This is going to be really fun!”

[preciseprose]

Kiki (1/2)

Prompt: Their Companion (February 1st, 2021)

Fandom: The Owl House

Relationship: Belos and Kikimora (platonic)

Synopsis:  After some light prodding, Kikimora opens up to Belos.

Author’s note: Hi ya’ll!  I took a bit of a mental health break over the last week but I’m back and ready to celebrate COMPANUARY!  (Shout out to @elixircatstudio for making the prompt list, and to @coventual-interests for helping me brainstorm). I’ll be posting a bunch of drabbles throughout the next month featuring Kikimora and Belos being platonic best buds.  I hope you like this first one!

- - -

Belos crouched over a table lit dimly by the pale-yellow light of several light orbs and the orange light of a lantern hung from the center rafter of his tent.  Spread across the table were maps of the northwestern portion of the Boiling Isles, heavily marked with troop movements, areas of strategic interest, and the locations of enemy encampments.  As he moved one of the large maps around the table, he caught his sleeve on the edge of the table.

“Dammit,” he cursed to himself.  He had again pulled his sleeve into the crevice between two boards.  As he worked the coarse fabric out from between the boards, he noticed a faint spattering of crimson on the underside of the sleeve.  He pulled in closer.

“It’s probably blood.”  He spoke quietly despite his solitude.  Breathing firmly out of his nose, he pulled the fabric free.  He turned away from the maps and stepped towards the chair nearest him.  It was a solid wooden thing, reliable and old.  He took a seat.

Belos lifted his arms up to stretch.  It had been a grueling summer thus far and his skin was slick with sweat.  The vestments that hid the markings of the Titan were heavy and pulled against his skin like worn flypaper as he lifted his arms.  As the fabric fell, he saw them again—a smear of crimson against a dull white backdrop.  He fell out of the stretch and sighed, staring at the maps on the table.

The subjugation of the towns and villages controlled by the Bard and Abomination covens had been swift and he had shown no mercy to those who opposed him.  Opposed the Titan.  The rumors that had spilled from the lips of the few designated survivors were true, of course.  Any town that refused to bow to him, emperor by divine right, had been annihilated.  Its buildings hallowed, its roads dug up, its fields salted, and its elders petrified.  Cleansed in the name of the Titan.  Their lord and savior.  Who had saved him from death, and had given him the power necessary to correct the evils of this savage age.

Yes.  He had presented them with a choice.  He had sent his right-hand to warn them of his coming and give them the chance to surrender beforehand.  They had known the consequences of defying the Titan’s will.

He heard canvas rubbing against canvas behind him and sat up to face the entrance to the tent.  A diminutive, red demon with three-pronged, taloned limbs and blue hair that resembled two hands connected at the wrist entered.  Her robes were white and trimmed with a band of pale gold ribbon—the distinctive garb of his cause.  Like his own, they had become frayed at the edges and dirtied with soil and ash.

Kikimora.  A strange name thought Belos.  But then again, most creatures of the Boiling Isles had strange, foreign-sounding names.  They would have been at home next to Bilbo Baggins of Tolkien’s work.  What was it, The Hobbit?  It had been many years since Belos had read the tome.

He watched Kikimora turn and carefully and deliberately close the tent flaps behind her.  Her hands moved with a deftness unexpected of someone of such a small stature.  Finished, she turned to face him, stepping into a deep bow from the waist.

“My liege, I have a report for you from our scouts to the north and a summary of the battle to the east.”  She spoke with precision, softly hammering the syllables into place.

“Now now, Kiki.  No need for the formality,” he said, lifting his palms to face her.  “It’s just you and me here.  You have permission to speak informally.”

Her lone eye, uncovered by her hair, examined him quizzically.  “Sir, uh, sire.  Did you just call me, Kiki?”  She pointed to herself with her middle talon.

He paused.  He didn’t know what to say.  It was entirely out of character for him to use a nickname for anyone.

She laughed pleasantly.  “Only my mother calls me that.  Well, called me that.”

“Right,” Belos thought.  That wound was still fresh.

“I suppose I did.  Didn’t I?”  Belos said, attempting to recover the mood for reasons he could not understand.  He didn’t have any reason to make her feel better.  But despite that, he felt compelled to.  He glanced away from her.

The young monster was a clever thing, and she had been a good companion while on campaign.  Perhaps it was alright for him to open himself up slightly.  He needed someone he could trust.  Could rely on.

“Of course, that’s alright with you isn’t it?” he asked, shifting back to look at her.

Her eye opened wide as her shoulders rose.  She smiled as she spoke.  “No, not at all.  I mean, of course not, my liege.”

He stood from his chair and offered it to her.  “Please, sit down.”

“Thank you.”  She strode across the room and hopped into the waiting seat as he rounded the table and sat across from her.

For the next half hour, she relayed the details of the day’s successes and failures.  The scouts had discovered several Oracle encampments along the road to the north.  No doubt they intended to ensnare one of his divisions in a trap of horrible visions.  No matter.  The abominations would rip them apart.

A town to the east had agreed to surrender.  Good.  It would save him the effort of having to make a personal appearance.  He would send several of Kiki’s agents to administer the curses to bind the local magic users to a single school of magic.

Once Kikimora had finished her report, she stood to leave, but Belos called out to her before she could reach the entrance.

“Kiki, wait.”

She turned elegantly to face him.  “Yes, my liege?”

“Please, stay for a while.  It’s struck me that despite traveling with you for the past eight months, I know little about you.”

“I didn’t take you for the talkative type,” she stated in return.  “Doesn’t the mouth of the Titan have better things to do than cavort with his followers?”

Beneath his wooden mask he smiled.  Genuinely smiled.

He had done well to choose her as his right hand.

[preciseprose]

Kiki (2/2)

Prompt: Hanging Out (Companuary: February 2nd, 2021)

Fandom: The Owl House

Relationship: Belos and Kikimora (platonic)

Synopsis:  Kikimora talks about her life and Belos opens up slightly.

Author’s note: This is a continuation of the drabble I posted two days ago. It isn’t necessary to read that one first though.

- - -

“Where should I start?” Kikimora offered, accepting the glass of blood wine Belos had poured for her.

“Hmmm,” Belos hummed, drawing his fingertips into a bridge.  “Why not start from the beginning?”

They had moved to the back of the tent, which he had decorated with a pair of modest armchairs, a small coffee table, and a stone-lined pit.  A cold fire of red flame burned quietly within the confines of the pit.  The chairs fit Belos comfortably, but effectively dwarfed Kikimora.  He found the effect quite humorous.

“That’s quite vague, you know,” quipped Kikimora, before taking a sip from her glass.  “But I suppose I can start with my parents.”

Belos waited silently.

“I grew up in Aster’s Copse, the village you found me in when you first started your campaign.”

“Yes, I am familiar with it.”

“My parents ran a general store there.  It was nothing exceptional, but it provided us with greater means than most.  My father was a smart man but had little ambition.  He wasn’t a particularly warm parent, but he cared about me.  Sent me letters when I was away at school.”

She drew her hands up to clarify.  “My parents weren’t blessed with magic so they couldn’t communicate without the post.  Apparently, my gift came from my mother’s grandmother.  The village elders said she was quite the hellion.”

“A wild witch?”

She nodded, then took another sip.  “Oh yes, wild at heart from what I heard.  I never met her through, so I can’t be certain.”

“Curious.  Was she also the origin of your musical talent?”  Belos asked.  On the field, he had seen Kikimora employ a lyre as the focus for her spells.

Kikimora’s ears perked up at the question.  “My musical talent?”  She laughed.  “I wouldn’t consider myself particularly talented.  I’m competent at best.  Now my mother,” she conjured in the air before him an image of a demon similar looking to her but older, with slightly darker skin and aquamarine ‘hair’.  “She was talented.”

Belos examined the image more closely.  The woman was playing a lyre and appeared to be in the middle of some rousing number in a run-down bar.

“She was a minstrel before she married my father,” Kikimora explained.

“And after?”

“A devoted wife.  Then a devoted mother.”  She sighed into her glass, dismissing the image with a swirl of her finger.  “She’s the one that taught me to play.”

Kikimora opened the palm of her left hand.  A nine-stringed lyre materialized in her hand in a flash of red light.  She held it up for him to see.

Belos wordlessly conjured two light orbs to better examine the instrument.  She had carved the soundbox from a solid block of dark redwood and joined it seamlessly with arms built from olive wood.  The left arm was unique.  A winding trench had been cut into the arm within which lay a fanged, redwood serpent.  Its head, which spiraled off the cross bar, glistened in the light.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you, my liege.  I carved it after my mother died, to help me remember her.”  She pulled the instrument back towards herself, examined it, then dismissed it with a swirl of her right hand.

Belos dismissed the orbs above, then brought his hands to his stomach.  

“I envy you,” he said after some time.  “I have little artistic talent.”

“Can you sing?”

He half-laughed.  “Like a tortured animal.”

“That’s a shame, sire.”  She responded, chucking to herself.  “I used to play in a band.  We could have performed duets.”

“You’re joking,” he said in disbelief.  He tried to imagine her in the same scene she had shown of her mother.  It looked off somehow.

“I am not.  We were quite popular too.”  She paused suddenly, then glared skeptically at him with her eye.  “You didn’t think I was a boring recluse before I agreed to travel with you, did you sire?”  She took another drink without breaking eye contact.

“No, that’s not it,” he said, waving is left hand in a circle.  “I just thought…  You project a certain image, you know.  I thought you may have stuck to hymnals.”

“Oh!”  She laughed, almost spilling her wine.  “Yes, yes, I know plenty of those from my time at St. Epiderm.  But they are dreadfully boring to play.”

“St. Epiderm,” he said, pondering.  “Isn’t that a school in Bonesborough?  Did you attend there?”

“Yes, it is my alma mater,” she declared proudly.  “I graduated as top student.”

“But how did you manage to attend?  You said that you grew up in Aster’s Copse.  That’s a week’s travel from Bonesborough by foot.”

“Well, I didn’t walk, my lord.  Not with these stubby things.”  She gestured to her legs.  “I was flown there, by my first teacher.”

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms loosely.  “Another demon?”

“No, a witchling actually.  Our town’s local representative for the Bard coven.  Mr. Crowley.”  She looked away from him and into the fire.  “He was a kind man, nothing like the current coven establishment, my lord.”

She took another drink, leaving little in the glass.  “If it wasn’t for him, I would have rotted away in that town.  It was a sad day when he passed.”

Belos let a moment pass, then replied.  “What did he teach you?”

“Oh, small things at first.  What every fledgling is taught.  The five basic spells, spell circle theory, runes, basic potions.”  Her expression sharpened.  “Then he taught me the basics of elocution, the weaving of magic and words to persuade and influence.  That’s what set me free.  My final test as his apprentice was to use magic to convince my father to let me take the entry exam for St. Epiderm.”

“Obviously, you succeeded.”

Kikimora finished her glass and set it on the table.  “Yes.  I did.”

Belos snapped his fingers.  The glass disappeared.

“Did that test not cross a line for you?”  He asked.

“At the time, yes.  I think it did.”

“But in hindsight?”

She grinned.  “In hindsight?  I think was good for me, my lord.”

“Is that so,” replied Belos, interested to hear her explanation.

She turned to face him, pressing her talons together.  “It hardened me a little.”  She tilted her talons forward.  “Forced me to think about how magic could be used for my own personal gain, rather than the benefit of others.”

“You weren’t raised with that mentality?  That your skills should be used to further yourself before others?”

She shook her head.  “No, I wasn’t, my lord.  I was raised to be kind, and considerate.  Maybe docile is the right word.  Like a little doll.”

“Ridiculous.”

“Utterly so,” she agreed, settling back into her chair.  “Regardless, I can’t help but feel some guilt about abandoning my mother.”

“Why do you say that you abandoned her?”

She smiled dimly.  “I think it really hurt her that I left.  And that she was probably lonely without me, alone with my father.”  As she spoke, her eye drifted to the fire.

“And because I left, I didn’t get the chance to get to know her as an adult.  She caught the bone flu during that outbreak eight years ago and passed within the week.  By the time I could return home, she was almost gone.”

A silence emerged.  He didn’t turn to face her.  Instead, he looked into the fire and thought of his own mother.

“Kiki.”  He said, after a long moment of consideration.

“Yes, sire?”

“My own mother.  She, …died under similar circumstances.”  

He saw her turn to face him out of the corner of his vision.

“She was killed suddenly, while I was away.  And I didn’t know until I arrived back home months later.  She was already buried by then.”

She moved to speak but he held up his left hand to stop her.

“She, like your mother, didn’t want me to leave either.  But I did because I had to.”

He leaned forward in his chair and continued.  “I have no basis for this belief beyond the fact that I was a decent son, but I believe she understood why I had to leave.  And that she didn’t hold it against me.”

“I see,” Kikimora stated, drawing her hands into a ball.  “Thank you, my lord.”

He remained silent, having turned back to the fire.  A few minutes passed.

“It’s getting late, my lord,” she said, pushing herself out of her seat.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” he said, moving to stand.

She walked over to entrance of the tent, then looked back.

“Thank you for the conversation, my lord.”

He smiled beneath his mask.  “Goodnight, Kiki.”

“Goodnight, my lord.”

[calicocatcrafts]

Companuary Day 18 - “Movie Night”

Wait?! What? That’s how it ends!

[calicocatcrafts]

Companuary Day 11 - “Other Friends”

They are having a picnic.

This was a lot more then I thought it was... I also wanted to color t but I wanted to move on to the other prompts.. Though I may come back to this in the future to give you guys a color version.