GLASS BRACELETS
Chapter 1
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Tequilla's memories are like a mirror. But its been broken and scattered around this massive nook of an island far from Poll's own. It feels like the two of them should be able to repair the whole thing and get his memories back – they've found several shards already – but it's like they never have enough pieces to get a good look at the full picture.
Poll has done their best to help him remember though! They sit down every morning and try to figure out which of his dreams might have been memories, and they visit the mystery house all the time, just like they are right now.
Poll sits on the cold wood floor of an orange, dust filled bedroom in front of a short oak bookcase, sifting through its contents for any kind of clue. They aren't exactly sure what they and their brother are really searching for. Notes? Maps? Maybe something to help him find his moms and dad…
Poll's tail lashes. They shake their head, ignoring the stray thought. “Found anythin’ yet, TQ?”
Tequilla hums a no from the other side of his old bedroom, sat in a chair a bit too small for him at a table too short, hunched over the papers he sifts around in his claws.
“mm, me neither.” Poll sets another book onto the stack next to them where they sit on the wooden floor. “Other than y'havin’ a lot of Magic Treehouse books. Don't know how you read them all.”
“Yyou read slow.” Tequilla reminds them.
Poll huffs, cracking open another dusty book as Tequilla continues to rifle through the room that used to be his own. It became a much easier task once they cleaned up the signs strewn across it. Although Tequilla was adamant about not destroying them, so they ended up piled on top of the bed instead.
“Maybe this i-is something?” Poll looks up at their brother, eyes drifting to the paper held in his hand. It's a child's drawing just like the rest of them. Although its a lot more scribbly than the others. There's an egg drawn in orange crayon with a frowny face - probably TQ - and a large white figure with a big smile and mustache. Surrounding the figure are black scribbles. Poll squints at the drawing.
“...Nah, looks like some of th’ others we've found.” Poll waves away the drawing. There's plenty of drawings of the funny bear guy from summer camp strewn around amongst the doodles of parents holding hands and houses, but none of them have sparked anything.
TQ whines, a loud frustrated noise, dragging the drawing back into the pile.
Poll tugs on their claws, reaching a wing towards TQ. “Trade?” They offer. Tequilla nods his head and stretches out his wing too, touching gently. Poll stands, shaking itself out like a dog. They tilt their head at him, opening their wings like a second set of arms. “Hug?” Their brother nods, tucking his wings and tail tightly against his body, relaxing as he feels Poll's scales slide across his clothes, enveloped by warm darkness and the tight squeeze of its arms. “Do you need a break, bubba?”
He shakes his head. “N-nneed answers.”
Poll rumbles soothingly, carding through TQ's hair. “We gotta keep lookin’. We'll find it.”
“May-be it's in th-the underwater cave. T-the one t-that…” He trails off.
“The one that th’ octopus mom lived in?”
“Mmhm. Maybe t-that has ssome clues.” Tequilla mumbles.
Poll pokes the back of his head. “Nuh uh. We tried that an’ it didn’ end well.” That's kind of an understatement, but Poll knows it's kind of a touchy subject right now. They tried to swim down and investigate the cave weeks ago. Tequilla started to panic a couple feet down and papa had to pull him out of the water. He said he had a pounding headache after so they decided to not push it any further. The look of terror on its brother's face is burned into it's memory though. They feel bad for grabbing his tail.
Tequilla sniffles. “Wwhat if I-I do-n’t find aanything-ing?”
“This house is so big, I'm sure we'll find somethin’. If not, I'll help jog your memory.” Poll assures him.
“...Like the cart-oons?”
“Like the cartoons.”
Tequilla buries his face further into Poll's chest, finally reaching his arms around to squeeze Poll just as tightly. “Promise?”
“Promise. Let's have papa take us home now.”
“Okay…”
—
Tequilla flops onto the couch face first, growling muffled against the fabric.
Poll climbs onto the couch too, shuffling to sit directly on top of their brother's prone back.
“You gonna make it, TQ?” Poll sticks their claws into his hair, scratching lightly.
He grumbles, swatting at Poll with his tail.
“C'mon bubba, let's play a game, I'm sure that'll cheer you up.”
“No.”
“C’moooon jus’ one game, I'll even let you pick what we play.” Poll bribes.
Tequilla stays silent for a moment. Then sighs. “hhide n’ seek?”
Poll beams, scrambling off their brother to stand and cover their eyes. “Okay you hide first!”
“One, two, three, four, five…”
—
“Ready r'not, here I come!” Poll uncovers their eyes immediately glancing towards the more common hiding spots in the house. Behind the couch… under the coffee table… behind the door… nope. Tequilla is nowhere to be found. They sneak out of the living room, wings flared for balance as they tiptoe into the kitchen. He's not in the pantry, or the fridge. (Papa told them both off for that last time.) Poll glances outside briefly, but doesn't spot the tell-tale dents in the grass that their claws make. They skip back through the house, checking the bathtub, the toys room, laundry baskets, blankets, pillows; no brother to be found.
“Where is he hiding…” Poll mumbles to itself. Have they missed a hiding spot? it doubts he would hide in their closet, and there's no way he would hide under their bed since the present is there-
“Oh no,” They hiss, tail still. “Oh no no no no no.” Poll sprints to their shared bedroom, pushing the door open with enough force to make it bounce off the wall.
Tequilla stands next to the bed, holding a small orange wrapped present, brows furrowed.
“Poll? What is t-this?” He holds the present up towards them, gently, as if it were made of glass.
“You weren't supposed t’ find that.” They blurt suddenly, hand coming up to cover their mouth to silence the traitorous noise.
“I w-wasn't ssupposed to…?” Tequilla asks with a look of confusion and concerning bleeding from the exposed side of his face.
“If y'knew I had it, you woulda been so upset with me.”
Tequilla reaches forward for Poll, “Why?”
Poll flinches back. “Because I broke my promise!” They cry. “I told you that I was gonna help you find your memories but I lied an’ didn' tell you about the present n’ I know I should've but I didn' want you to be upset with me-”
“Slow,” Tequilla assures. “Why?” He reiterates.
“Because…” Poll considers lying again. But if lying got them here, then lying even more will just make it worse, right? “Because I got it… I got it from your mom.”
Tequilla looks down at the small present clutched in his claws. The look in his eyes when he meets Poll's makes their chest tight.
Betrayal. Total betrayal.
“Y..you m-met my mmom? Wh-whhich one? When ddid th-this happen? Where was she? Did she mmiss me?”
Poll takes a breath past the lump in their throat. “It was th’ goat one, she said her name was Doll like the toy an’ she was really nice. It was at Christmas, you were asleep an’ I had left my gloves at th’ mystery house, I saw footsteps and… she was at your statue, she had brought a present for you. She missed you a lot.”
Tequilla hugs the present tight against his chest. He shakes, tail twitching as his wings open subconsciously. “Th-then why isn't she here n-now? Why didn't I knnnow she was around until nnnow?” He lowers his head, a single horn presented toward his sibling. “Yyyou lied t-to me.”
Poll shrinks under his threat display. “I'm sorry,” they whisper, “I just-”
“NO.” Tequilla yells, a sound louder than Poll had ever heard from their brother. “NO. NO NO NNO NO NO!” His wings are fully flared now. “I don't wanna talk to you, I d-don't w-wanna hear it!” He stomps, pulling his messenger bag from the floor and slinging it around his shoulder with a dull thud.
“Please, Bubba-”
“NO, I'm n-not going to be the brother of a liar! I hate you!” He shoves past Poll, running for the back door.
Poll begs through tears. “Please TQ I don't-”
Tequilla throws the door open; Poll flinches as its hinges rattle from the force. “I'm g-going to find my real fam-ily a-and find my mmmemories on my own. I-I don't need you.”
Their brother sniffles, wiping tears and snot from his face, and turns sharply, dashing for the underbrush of the forest.
They pursue, begging their brother to come back. They didn't– they didn't MEAN to, they were just so so scared– Poll dodges branches and bushes and vines, crying out, until-
Their foot catches on a root and they plummet to the ground.
Dazed, they push themself up, watching distantly as blood drips from their muzzle and onto the forest floor below. The orange blur of their brother gets farther and farther away.
Poll sobs. Big, ugly, gasping things as that orange blur becomes one with the dark green around it. It curls into itself, wings wrapped like a shield around it.
The smell of thunderstorms and grass and salt fill the air, barely detectable under the overwhelming smell of blood in their nose. A cold hand brushes against their wing. Their papa stands over them, body reflecting a dark thunderstorm over snow covered mountains, projecting concern to its ward. Poll cries harder, reaching up to its papa. Stardust lifts the dragonling into its many arms.
“I messed up, papa.” Poll croaks.
“I messed up so bad.”