Glamour - Chapter 3 (Trade)
This is the third part of a four-part trade story with @hooter-n-company (a.k.a. Rchlis). She is making some very special art for me, and in return, she asked me to write a story to introduce a Twisted Wonderland OC she's sort of had stewing in the background for a while: his name is Taoka Latronis, and he is based on Tamatoa from "Moana."
I absolutely LOVE Tamatoa. He's a fun villain, and a surprising crush (albeit a somewhat mild one, for me, personally). Rchlis wanted to create a character for the TW universe based on the big glam crab, and I certainly wasn't going to say no. The advantage of this being a trade, instead of a commission, was I could go and make a much longer and more detailed story, in return for much more detailed and elaborate artwork, without either of us having to pay exorbitant amounts that frankly neither of us could afford. Win-win. XD
This was a LOT of fun to make, and Taoka is one of my favorite OCs I've gotten to write for that I DIDN'T create myself, if not my favorite (at least as far as TW goes, I should clarify). Hopefully a lot of you like him, too. ;) Parts one and two have already been released the past two days; the fourth and final section will go up tomorrow. Be on the lookout!
WARNING: THIS PARTICULAR SECTION DOES NOT INCLUDE ANY KINKS DIRECTLY. HOWEVER, THERE ARE IMPLICATIONS OF VORE AND OTHER KINKS SPRINKLED THROUGHOUT THE FIRST THREE PARTS. DON'T LIKE? TOO YOUNG? DON'T READ. NOTE/DISCLAIMER: Once again, I referenced a song from "Labyrinth" (performed and composed by David Bowie) here. Once again, I hold no rights to the lyrics, figured I should still put this here, though.
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“This can’t be!” “Well, it sure seems like it can.” You and Grim watched anxiously as Divus Crewel and Maverick Mokulau paced across the stage. The audience had been cleared out, with the help of Neige LeBlanche, and local security had been called to investigate. Vil Schoenheit and Keala Cravalho had both split up to help them out. Speaking of which…all four of you looked up as the familiar clip-clopping of heels announced the return of the two students. “Have you searched the dressing rooms?” inquired Professor Crewel. “Every last one!” exclaimed Keala. “And?” “Nothing! It’s just…gone!” “You two were supposed to be on the ball today,” Vil scowled in your direction. “Nya! Don’t look at us!” Grim yowled, fur bristling with aggravation. “No, Grim, he’s right,” you sighed. “We may not have been in charge of security, but we should have been more on top of things, as Stage Managers. All those mishaps, culminating in the trophy being stolen…” “What does ‘culminating’ mean?” Grim meowed, in response. You and Vil groaned in tandem.
“It has to be around here somewhere,” fretted Keala. “I sincerely doubt that, at this point,” frowned Vil. “What is security up to now?” Mokulau demanded to know. “They’ve begun interviewing some of the contestants, to see if anybody noticed anything suspicious,” Vil replied. “I regret to say they haven’t had much luck.” “Someone had to see something!” Grim suddenly screeched. “All anybody saw were stars,” droned Vil. “That flash of light blinded everybody who might have gotten a good look.” “What was that flash, anyway?” murmured Keala, scratching his chin. “It didn’t seem like just a normal lighting trick.” “You’ve got that right, kid,” grumbled Mokulau, tipping his shades down as he turned his head up thoughtfully, hands stuffed into his pockets. “Wasn’t just an illusion, either…” “It seemed to me,” Crewel broke in, “Like some form of magic.” Those words caused something to click inside your brain. You suddenly let out a shout of frustration and slapped your forehead. “Oh, you Dumbo!” you cried out…then, noticing the expressions on everyone’s faces, you quickly explained: “Not you all. Me. I think I know who did this!” “You do?” Grim blinked. “Yes. But I’m going to need more proof,” you said solemnly, and stood up. It was time to take charge. “Vil, Mr. Mokulau, Keala? Can I ask you three to accompany me?” “If you feel it’s necessary,” Vil said slowly, while the two Royal Sword members nodded in agreement. “Good,” you smiled, then looked at Professor Crewel. “I think you and Grim should help security, sir. I may be completely wrong, and I don’t think ALL of us need to go at once.” “That seems reasonable,” Crewel nodded, and pointed at Grim with his familiar rod. “Come, puppy! We have work to do!” With a swirl of his fur coat, Divus Crewel flounced away. Grim growled grouchily. “First I’m a cat, then I’m a puppy,” he grumbled. “I’m getting sick of this…” “Just behave,” you sighed, and shooed the little imp away. With a sniff and a snort, he followed Professor Crewel away. “So, where are we goin’?” Maverick asked, crossing his tattooed arms. “To see Hop the Dwarf,” you replied, and beckoned for the three to follow you. “I think he’s the first stop we should make.” “Whatever you say, Basil of Baker Street,” Keala smirked with a shrug. You just gave him a blank look. “Forget it,” he chuckled, waving it off. Vil and Mokulau rolled their eyes. You just shook your head and led the group away. It was time to start getting a few answers.
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“Who knew what kind of instrument you would be playing?” you asked Hop the Dwarf. Yourself and Keala stood inside the little fellow’s dressing room, while Vil and Mokulau - having seniority as judges - stood outside the room to guard it, just in case the culprit you suspected should show up. Hop scratched his head as he pondered the inquiry. “Well…I had to fill out a form to let management know,” he pointed out. “I’m aware,” you nodded. “But who else might have known?” “Did you tell any of the other contestants, maybe someone in the audience?” asked Keala. “I don’t think so,” said Hop, shaking his round little head. “Only Gran and Dominic, and they wouldn’t do a thing like that!” “No, of course they wouldn’t,” you sighed, feeling rather frustrated by the answer. This hadn’t gotten you anywhere you hoped it would. “I guess your hunch was wrong,” said Keala, weakly. “Seems that way,” you grumbled. “Wait a moment!” Hop suddenly squeaked, snapping his tiny fingers in realization. “There was that one guy…!” “One guy?” you and Keala chorused. “Uh-huh!” nodded Hop. “See, there was this guy…” He indicated you. “...I think he goes to your school…anyway, he said he was trying to find his lost guitar pick, and he was asking around if anybody had seen it. I told him I hadn’t seen it, and he said that was okay. He then asked what I was doing for my act, out of curiosity. I didn’t think there was anything wrong, so I told him my plans for my performance.” “So he would have known which instrument you were using and where you kept it?” “Well, not where I KEPT it, no,” said Hop with a slight giggle. “I didn’t tell him THAT much!” “Still,” Keala murmured, now catching on to what you were anticipating, “If he knew you had the instrument in here, and knew what he was looking for, he could have come in at any time you weren’t around.” “Did you leave the room at any point?” you asked the young dwarf. “Just for a few minutes for a snack break,” shrugged Hop. “That would do it,” you said gravely. “Can you tell me what he looked like?” “He wore a gold coat, and a glove on one hand. He also had purple eyes.”
Keala sucked in a breath sharply. You looked quickly towards him. “What’s wrong?” you asked the young man in the red shirt. Keala hesitated before answering: “I saw the same guy near my dressing room after I went to the bathroom for a spell. I’d left the door open when I left.” “So he could have gotten in while you were away?” Keala nodded, and added another detail: “He had a guitar bag slung over his shoulder. At the time, I assumed it carried his instrument, but…” Cravalho trailed off. You could easily guess the rest. You nodded to him, then at Hop, smiling slightly with a sense of slight triumph. “Thanks, little guy,” you said to the Dwarf. Hop gave a cheery mock-salute. You and Keala each returned the gesture, then exited the room, shutting the door behind you. “Well!” you said, clapping your hands together. “That cinches it.” “You know who’s behind this?” Mokulau checked. “I’m pretty sure, yep,” you nodded, then looked at Vil. “I’m afraid he’s one of your students.” Vil’s eyes widened, but only for a moment. “You don’t mean Taoka, do you?” he asked. “I’m afraid so. Do you know what his Unique Magic is like?” “I have not had a chance to experience it, no,” Vil answered, shaking his head. “I have. Or, at least, I think I have,” you said. “He’s the one who took the Lanternblossoms that Grim and I needed for our assignment with Professor Crewel. When he did, he lifted his hand, muttered some sort of spell…” “And let me guess,” interjected Mokulau, “There was a disorienting, golden flash of light?” “Just like the one that everybody got hit with when the trophy was stolen,” you confirmed.
“If it’s a signature spell, then there can be no doubt,” frowned Vil, clearly cross at the idea of one of his own Pomefiore dorm-mates being potentially responsible. “But we’re lacking the negligible item of evidence.” “He’s got a point,” Keala concurred. “Security checked all the dressing rooms, including his. They would have found it then, wouldn’t they have?” That was a good point, which you had no answer for. Mokulau scratched at his bear-like chest, then lifted a finger as he spoke up authoritatively. “The way it sounds to me,” he said, seriously, “There are three answers to this problem. The first is that our Stage Manager is either wrong or outright lying to us.” “I’m inclined to think they are correct,” Vil said, and gave you a supportive smile. “For all the faults the Prefect of Ramshackle has, I have no reason to doubt everything they’ve said as being as true and factual as they can manage.” You smiled gratefully. “I figured that,” nodded Maverick. “The second answer is that this Tapioca-” “Taoka,” corrected Vil. “-Whatever…the second answer is that he’s somehow managed to hide the trophy in his room, in a way security wouldn’t be able to uncover. I don’t think that’s true, either: if he’d used a cloaking spell, for example, they would’ve checked for it immediately.” “Then what’s the third option?” questioned Keala. “I think I can guess that,” you answered, and raised an eyebrow at the Royal Sword instructor. “It’s that he’s hidden the trophy - and maybe all the other things he’s presumably taken - somewhere offsite. Right?” “In the time before and after his performance, he could have had a chance to hide the instruments and all the rest,” reasoned Mokulau. “And in the confusion after he swiped the trophy, he might have been able to slip off to somewhere, provided it wasn’t very far away.” “There’s plenty of options,” said Vil, solemnly, a hand to his chin as he pondered things. “It would have been risky, but so was stealing everything to begin with. In the words of a famous writer, ‘once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.’” “Okay, so…if he HAS done that,” Keala frowned, scratching his cheek, “Then where is this hiding spot?” Mokulau could only shrug. A smile came to your face. “Well,” you began to say, slyly, “Maybe we don’t know that…but there’s bound to be one person who does.” You then pointed to Maverick’s sunglasses. “Quick question…do you have spares of those?”
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“You remind me of the babe! What babe? Babe with the power! What power? Power of Voodoo! Who do? You do! Do what? Remind me of the babe…” Taoka Latronis laughed and sang as he lounged lazily in his dressing room, smiling up at the ceiling. He was feeling very pleased with himself. He spun around in his chair, grinning from ear to ear, looking for all the world like the cat who had caught the canary. He was still gayfully humming when a thumping knock came at the door. The smile was struck from his face. “What?” he called out, crossly, a slight sneer curling across his painted lips. His expression quickly changed, and he sat up straight in his chair, as the door opened to reveal a broad-shouldered, heavily-tattooed man with long, dark hair and a stubbly, strong chin, with a shark tooth necklace around his throat and sunglasses shrouding his hazel eyes. “Mr. Mokulau!” exclaimed Taoka, startled at the sight of the rock star judge and magic master. “This…th-this is unexpected…” “Heh. Don’t worry, I get that a lot. Not everybody expects me to be so perfect,” winked Maverick with a chuckle. Taoka gave a sort of tight smile in return. “Is there something you need?” Taoka asked. “Security already checked my room…is there any chance we’ll be allowed to leave soon?” “Actually, yeah, that’s what I was coming to tell you,” replied Mokulau, and jabbed a thumb back towards the open door as he stepped further into the room. “Security’s done checking around for now, they wanna clear all the contestants out. You’ll be free to go in just a few minutes. So, if you’ve got anything to pack up, better get to it.” “Thank you, sir. I’ll make sure to get ready in a moment,” Taoka said, then paused before hesitantly asking, “Do they know who might be responsible?” Mokulau paused before sighing and nodding, removing his sunglasses and tucking them into a pocket. “Honestly, I really shouldn’t be telling you this,” he said, and brushed some of his dark curls away from his face. “But they think it was a student from your school.” Taoka’s purple eyes widened. His smile flickered. “Do they now?” “Yeah,” nodded Mokulau, and paused a moment longer before continuing: “We can’t prove it, but we’re starting to suspect the Stage Management duo had something to do with it all.”
Taoka blinked. Three times. “Them?” he repeated, sounding almost bewildered. “They had access to every room,” replied Mokulau with a scowl. “And it seems kinda suspicious so many things would go missing on their watch. We’re not sure how they took that trophy, or if they had any help, but with all the mishaps during the contest as a whole, we’re pretty sure they had to know more than they’re telling.” Taoka looked askance, purple-hued brow knitted in thought. “You have a point,” he murmured, then a grin spread across his face, and he looked back up at the great musician. “Yes! It has to be them! We should have suspected it from the start.” “Psh. Tell me ‘bout it,” snorted Mokulau. “Your Housewarden is beside himself: the idea of a fellow NRC student being behind it all, somebody he personally asked for help…” “Eh. I imagine the dorm leader will get over it,” shrugged Taoka with a smirk. “Guess we shouldn’t have trusted a person from a world with no magic, huh?” “Looks like it,” Mokulau replied, and chuckled to himself: “At least they didn’t get my real pick out of the deal.” Taoka’s grin vanished instantly. “Huh? What…what do you mean the real pick?” he asked. “Oh, well, obviously I didn’t ACTUALLY put the REAL guitar pick I used in my first concerts on the trophy,” said Maverick with a smile. “It’s precious to me: something like that isn’t something I would just get rid of.” “I see,” Taoka said, and cocked his head. “So, uh…if it’s not prying too much, where DO you keep the real one?” Maverick smirked. He looked around, as if to make sure nobody was watching…then winked and patted one of his pockets. “You…you have it here? With you?” gasped Taoka, seemingly stunned. “Well, duh! It’s my lucky pick!” laughed Mokulau. “Every guitarist worth their salt carries one, kid. If you’re gonna be one, you better find your own soon.” Taoka grimaced and looked away again. “Yeah. If,” he muttered.
“Hey, don’t sweat it,” smiled the large man, with a kinder sort of expression. “I know we were pretty rough on you out there today, but you’ve got passion, kid. That’ll take you far, if you keep it up.” “I somehow doubt that,” whispered Taoka to himself. Maverick looked the young Night Raven student up and down…then stepped closer and reassuringly placed one huge, heavy hand on the young man’s shoulders. Taoka looked up, seemingly surprised. “When I got started, I was totally on my own, kid,” said Mokulau. “It took a lotta work and a lotta faith to get to my level now. I know it sounds cliche, but trust me, those two things can do a lot for ya if you let them. Don’t ever forget: as handsome as I may be, it’s not really about what’s out here…” He lightly pinched Taoka’s golden jacket indicatively…then lowered his hand and tapped a finger to the youth’s chest. “...It’s what in there that’s gonna matter most.” Taoka let out a sarcastic sort of chuckle and brushed the teacher’s hand away. “That’s a nice sentiment, sir, but you of all people should know: a golden heart isn’t gonna matter when you’re totally invisible.” Maverick frowned again, now a bit bemused. He tilted his head. “What makes you say that?” he asked, quietly, then a bit louder: “Have we met before?” Taoka’s expression was unreadable. His ungloved hand quietly clutched the other appendage in an absent-minded way. All he said in reply was a thoroughly emotionless: “Yes. We have.” Mokulau looked as if he wanted to ask something else…but at that moment, a new voice intervened… “Ahem! Mr. Mokulau?” Maverick turned around to see Vil Schoenheit standing in the doorway to the room. “What’s up?” he asked. “Your students - Neige and Mr. Cravalho, that is - want to talk to you.” “Thanks,” grunted Maverick Mokulau, and turned back around to smile at Taoka once more. He pulled out his shades and flipped them back into place over his eyes. “See ya later, kid.” “Maybe so,” Taoka answered in a slippery sort of way. Maverick grinned and clicked a finger-gun gesture towards the young man, then followed Vil out of the room. The moment he was gone, Taoka’s sly expression changed to a truly evil grin. He looked down towards his hands. He opened his gloved palm…revealing a small, bone-white guitar pick in his hand. “Gotcha,” he cackled to himself under his breath, then tucked the pick hastily into his own pocket before hurriedly tidying up his room. Once it was all clean, he slung his guitar over his shoulder. He was still laughing as he left the dressing room.
As far as he could tell...he'd won.
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Taoka took one of the sideways passages out of the auditorium, thus allowing him to slip by most anyone who might have spotted his departure. He did not head towards Night Raven straightaway. Instead, the spiky-haired young sneakthief blazed a trail towards the edge of the dense forest. His pace was deliberate, his demeanor sharp and direct; he knew exactly where he was going. No sooner had the youth’s golden coat vanished into the undergrowth, than he removed the pick from his pocket. A devious smile - which showed off each of his slightly-too-long teeth - split his face as he crept through the shadows of the trees in a Northwesterly direction. He had only gone some forty yards or so before he spotted a destination: a small, empty cave, half-hidden by brambles. Sniggering at his deceit, he hopped, skipped, and jumped over the brambles and scuttled into the cave, like a spider quickly creeping back into its den…or a crab, burrowing into a hiding spot. Inside the cavern, he paused a little ways away from the entrance: the cave was wide and round, with a ceiling that was about as low as a typical room in a typical house. No animals lived here, which made it an admirable hiding place…for the instruments, the microphones, and all the other bits and pieces of necessary hardware the contestants of the Triple-S concert competition required for their performances. Pilfering the items had been shockingly simple; sneaking them out when nobody would notice was only somewhat more difficult. Taoka chuckled as he approached the prize of his little hoard: a familiar silver trophy, topped with an ivory guitar pick. “Figuring out how to get you all out of here again is gonna be a bit of a problem,” mumbled Taoka…then smirked and shrugged. “Ah, well. Maybe I’ll just sell the stuff that’s worth something, leave the rest behind.” He knelt down beside the trophy with an evil smile. “You, however…you I’m gonna treasure. You and the REAL pick,” he chuckled, lifting up the bone-white guitar strummer in his hands indicatively… …And the moment he did, his smile faded. A look of confusion filled the glammed-up guitar player’s eyes. Something wasn’t right. The pick on the trophy had a familiar hook shape in its center; this was to be expected. The symbol was Mokulau’s logo, and his first pick had been etched with the design early on. That was as good as a signature or fingerprint of authenticity. But the pick Taoka now held…well, it was the same exact color, and the same exact shape and size…but it had no visible markings on it at all. “Wait a minute,” murmured Taoka, and scratched the surface…then sighed as the paint scraped, and a different color - a plain gray - showed underneath. “Oh, I see. He’s taken a cheap pick, and painted it in the same color as the one on the trophy…” Taoka’s look of petulant dissatisfaction abruptly changed to one of apprehension and alarm. “...As a diversion?” “More like bait.”
Taoka leapt to his feet and swung around with a snarl. He glared as he saw you standing at the entrance to the cave. Vil and Mokulau stood just a short distance behind you. As the three of you entered, the young man moved into a guarded position, flinging the cheap pick aside. “You followed me!” he accused. “Guilty as charged,” you chuckled. “It wasn’t too hard. We knew you couldn’t have brought them all the way back to the school, and there was nowhere in the town that seemed likely. We just didn’t know where to look. I figured if we dangled something shiny in front of your face, so to speak, you’d just HAVE to take it.” “You’ve disgraced my dorm, Latronis,” glared Vil. “I hope you realize punishment is well overdue.” “Oh, please, don’t insult me,” snorted Taoka coldly. “Or do we have to forget somebody else cheated much more dangerously at a certain other competition?” Vil glowered and said nothing. Sensing trouble, you subtly stepped to block him and Taoka’s path to each other. Vil noticed, smiled, and lightly placed a hand on your shoulder. He mumbled something under his breath, but only you heard it, and gave him a small smile in return. “Keala!” Mokulau called back over his shoulder. “We’ve found him.” Moments later, Keala joined the group. He looked almost hurt when he saw the trophy behind the glitzy scoundrel. “So you DO have it!” he exclaimed. “Give it back!” Taoka glared. “Why should I?” he hissed. “How about because we’ll pummel you if you don’t?” growled Maverick. “A student attacked by a teacher? I think that would get you in a great deal of trouble,” crooned Taoka. “You’re no student of mine,” said Mokulau coldly.
“Oh, that’s where you are wrong,” smirked Taoka, and straightened his stance, showing off his flashy outfit. “See, you’re the one I have to give credit for who I am today: watching you, I learned the only way a person is gonna stand out is if you make yourself bigger, shinier, and all around better than anybody around you. And it doesn’t matter who you step on to get there, or who gets left behind in the process!” “But that trophy wasn’t yours to take!” Keala protested. “What good does it do you to have it now? You can’t show it off, you can’t claim you won! What does it matter?!” “I don’t think that’s any of your business,” sniffed Taoka. “Well, I’m making it my business!” Keala snapped, taking an aggressive stance of his own. “I worked too hard to make my grandma proud-” “Between us, babe, I’m getting a little tired of hearin’ about your grandma,” interrupted Taoka. “I don’t care who ‘deserves’ this or not, it’s MINE! I’VE claimed it! AND I AM NOT LOSIN’ MY TREASURE NOW!” So saying, Taoka Latronis thrust out one hand. You heard him start to utter a familiar incantation… “NOW!” you shouted, and at almost the exact same time, Taoka finished the spell with three bellowed words… “Time to shine!” ZAM! A blinding flash of golden light shined and glittered through the whole small cave of loot. Taoka grinned and picked up the trophy, then made a dash to run past all of you and out the cavern mouth… …Only for an arm like a steel band - Vil’s - to suddenly swing out and smash into his abdomen. With a wheezing grunt, he staggered back, his gloved hand on his diaphragm, the other still holding the trophy tightly. He coughed twice and looked up…then gulped at what he saw. “Oh, come on!” he almost whined. “That’s STUPIDLY unfair!” All four of you wore matching, mischievous smiles…and sunglasses.
“Extra protected,” Mokulau boasted, adjusting his pair. “Not even your sparkle can beat these babies.” “Give us the trophy, Taoka!” Vil demanded, marching forward and stretching out one arm sharply, as if ordering a dog to drop a bone. “Don’t make this harder for yourself.” Taoka just scoffed. He removed his guitar, propping it up against one of the cave walls, and moved into an action-ready posture. “You’ll have to turn the world upside-down before I let you take this from me,” he responded icily. So saying, the young man reached into his pocket, and pulled out his Magic Pen. With a swish and a flick, he summoned a pillar of water, which blasted Vil backwards and sent him sprawling onto the cave floor. The other three of you hurried to his side. “You okay?” you asked, worriedly. “No,” Vil said, through a face full of dripping makeup. “I’m soaked.” You smirked. “THERE HE GOES!” Keala’s shout alerted all of you. You looked up; through the tint of your sunglasses, you saw Taoka finally use the distraction he’d sought for to flee, as he darted from the cave and out into the woods. “We can’t let him get away!” yelled Mokulau. “Come on!” You didn’t have to be told twice. You helped Vil to his feet, and all four of you charged out of the cave and after Taoka Latronis.
To Be Concluded in Part 4...