Inside
I don't consider myself to be as social as other Brothers or Sisters, but I suppose that one can't help occasionally passing by a fellow Sibling amongst the Masters and Mistresses that crowd the streets. It's like finding a rare gem in a stone, a hunk of precious ore in-between the piles of average rock. There aren't many here, Siblings I mean. Indeed, I hardly know any of them.
When I do find an obscure, new face in the crowd, they'll often have heard of me. I've never understood it, why they know who I am and who my Mistress is. Of course I try to take my apparent fame in stride, but I cannot help but feel misunderstood against the inevitable torrent of questions that they pummel at me.
"How do you deal with her?" they ask, their heads tilted to the side questioningly. "She seems impossible!"
They are, of course, referring to my Pink Mistress.
I don't understand why.
It confuses me greatly why they would think that I'd be unhappy with her. I still cannot yet wrap my head around it.
As I lay here in my bed, I can see her. She's bouncing about with the Little Lord Cream and Little Miss Gold riding upon her back. I roll over onto my belly to view them more clearly. They're all laughing, and I can feel the distinct vibrations of the wood panel floor as my Mistress' hooves collide with the ground.
The air is stale, yet it's being filtered by the freshly opened hole. I can see the night sky from my bed, with all its twinkling lights held up for display. Luna has outdone herself once again.
My eyesight has never been the best, but even I can see the dried tears on the Little Lord and Miss' cheeks. They'd been crying not too long ago, as all of the children of their kind do. My Mistress had only taken them just now, and they're already positively delighted. It's absolutely fascinating to watch her work such magic. Her talent of manifesting such laughter and joy has always served to warm my heart.
It is for that reason that I cannot understand the queries of so many. Is my Mistress irritating to them? I'll admit, she is rather eccentric, but I like that. I had gone through so many uneventful phases in my life that to be greeted by her shining, smiling face is simply making up for the lost time.
She stops now, panting lightly as the two children tumble off of her back onto a soft mat in front of the room’s door. They're still giggling, their chubby legs flailing outwards in excitement. I cannot help but offer a grin at the sight, despite my own self-consciousness towards my disfigured mouth.
My Mistress notices this, and she hops over to my small bed to lean down and face me. A light, flossy bit of her mane dangles in front of her face, teasingly.
Against my own better judgement, I reach up and grab the lock of hair in my toothless mouth.
She squeals happily and bounces about, though I have nothing to worry. I'm not the boastful type, but I do have a rather strong grip when it comes to my mouth. I find myself being flung to and fro from my position on her head, but that doesn't matter.
I am ashamed to admit that I adore biting things, or at least mouthing them to unlock their tastes. You could call me an 'extreme taste connoisseur'. I've tasted most everything, though I do have my favorites. My Mistress' mane is one of these. It has a brittle texture, though quite smooth in terms of its flavor. Absolutely delicious, and well worth the uneven ride that I have to face whenever I take a bite.
She stops, and I unhinge my jaws and plop to the ground as she yells something. I'm not offended, if anything I'm grateful that the ride is over. I can feel my eyes practically spin in my head as she goes to tend to the Little Lord and Miss.
I roll over to my scaled paws and look out the hollow stone’s hole towards the night sky. The view is slightly obscured by the pink curtains billowing inwards, pink like my Mistress, though admittedly not as tasty. It's just as hypnotizing though to watch them. The fabric is thin, as thin as a translucent membrane. The light of the stars just barely bleeds through them, leaving the darkness replaced by a sheath of simplistic pink.
The door clicks, and I blink to snap myself out of my daze. I swear, sometimes I can get so distracted by even the most trivial of things.
Suppressing a frustrated growl, I turn back around and find myself alone in the room. If I strain my ears, I can hear the faint, muffled sounds of my Mistress' hoof-beats against the wooden ground as she rushes down the hallway, probably to put the children to sleep.
It's the same old ritual nowadays. I get up at some early hour in the morning and entertain my Mistress and then I find some way to amuse myself until it's time for bed.
The thought of sleep brings a yawn to my mouth, and I suppress the urge to waddle over and climb back into my cushy bed. As much as I wish for the embrace of Luna, there are some anxieties that must be attended to, namely my claustrophobia.
Without a second thought, I scramble towards the door, making sure that the tips of my claws don’t scuff up the floor. I have to be careful of how I walk in the hollow stone, unlike most Siblings. The Grand Duchess of Blue always makes an angry face at me if I accidentally put things out of order, hence why this environment has always proved to be rather stressful for me.
Thankfully, it's only her that's so bitter of my presence. I've learned how to butter up The Grand Duke of Yellow far more times than I can shake a tail at.
Gurgling in amusement to myself, I look over the doorway and gently press the tip of my snout against one of the smaller panels, nudging it through. Unlike many Siblings, I've learned how to go through some pesky doors in my time. It's all in where you put your weight, apparently.
It's a strange system, as pushing on the right spot leads me to being able to slither under a sort of 'flap' or rubbery type of substance that just falls back into place upon passing through the door. It's completely different as to how Masters and Mistresses get through them, as they utilize the peculiar shining spheres mounted near the middle on the far left or right.
Well, oddness aside, I slide through the secret opening with relative ease, careful to make sure that no one is observing my antics from afar. The last thing that I want is to have myself discovered, especially by The Grand Duchess of Blue.
She and The Duke are no doubt in their chamber at this hour, so I have little to worry as I crawl my way down the dimly lit hall. Cautiously, I keep sure that my claws press against a softer portion of the ground as to muffle any signs of my presence. You can't be too careful, after all.
My heart sinks as I reach the most challenging of my obstacles to the outside world: The Jagged Cliffs. Every Sibling knows that The Jagged Cliffs are a phenomena not to be taken lightly. They're an unnatural breed of terrain that only the most hardened of souls can manage to master.
Stifling a gulp, I step forward to the edge of the first precipice and take care to not look down. To not look down is the key to overcoming them, as every experienced Sibling knows.
Slowly, very slowly, I stretch out a foot and make my way downwards. It's a little awkward to maneuver, as my reptilian body isn't as built to take on steep inclines. Still, I at least manage to stumble my way downwards in a manner that an ignorant Master or Mistress might call 'graceful', when in reality I'm simply letting myself fall from one cliff to the next.
I'm slightly battered as I finally reach the bottom. No doubt I'll gain a rather large purple splotch on my belly in a little while, but that's a matter to be worried about later.
After pausing to make sure that I'm not being followed, I crawl across the main chamber towards the final door. This room, and all of the other rooms down here have a different scent entirely from the set up above. They smell sweet, detectible with just a hint of caramelizing sugar and crusted cakes. By contrast the higher set of rooms smell more of freshly washed linen and musk. It's odd considering how poor my sense of smell is, but perhaps I've simply grown accustomed to it in my time here.
Salivating, I take the time to snuff at the air as I scuttle to the door. There's a small splash of sugary icing on the ground, and I take a detour in my beeline path to lick at it. I have my priorities, after all, and tasting is one of the higher ones.
As I grate my tongue against the floor, I can hear a faint scratching against the final door coupled with the distinct clicking of freshly trimmed claws.
"Brother! Brother!" a whining voice yips from outside, and I watch as a coal black nose is shoved against the bottom crack of the door, snuffling noisily. "You're here! I smell you! You're here!"
"Sister Winona?" I tilt my head to the side and toddle forwards. "Is that you?"
"Yeah!" she barks, and I can hear her lithe body thump continuously against the the barrier, as if believing that she might be able to pass through.
A pang of worry lodges itself into my heart, and I snap my head towards the upper chambers to ensure that the cacophony isn't heard. "Quiet, Sister!" I hiss sharply, commanding in my tone.
The noises stop, and I can practically hear the gears and cogs churning in her brain. It's a little pitiful, really. Dogs have a habit of being somewhat simple-minded, though it's safe to say that their undying loyalty practically makes up for their lack of a proper frontal lobe.
"Sit, Sister Winona," I order, smirking as I hear her bottom slap against the hard rock of the porch. "I'm going to open the door, okay? Then I'll come out and we can talk as much as you'd like."
There's no answer, but that's to be expected. Sister Winona is one of the more obedient canines that I've been acquainted with, which is certainly a good thing. Her silence is perfect for the more complicated trick that I have to perform.
I've only found a few passable flaps in doorways, and the location for the one here remains to be a mystery to me. Perhaps only certain doors have them; it doesn't really matter. Besides, I have another trick hidden in my paw.
Without any hesitation, I bunch my hind legs and leap upwards as high as I possibly can as to latch my mouth around the shiny knob that Masters and Mistresses are so accustomed to using. It tastes awful, like dirty metal and rusty coins. I resist gagging as I test the strength of my grip.
It's a little slippery, but it would be even worse if I had budding teeth. Thankfully my gums can mold themselves around the knob's peculiar shape, making it easier for me to swing my weight around and turn it open.
I would be lying if I said that I was modest about this particular ability of mine, and that I had no desire to display it for my Mistress. To do so would, of course, be completely foolish on my part.
I cringe as the door loudly creaks upon being opened, though the sound is certainly not loud enough to alert my caretakers. As soon as I can feel the night breeze I drop myself down to the ground with a heavy thud and press my snout to close the door behind me. The whole process takes less than a minute, though the aftermath is always physically taxing on my part.
Even so, I feel a small rush of egotistical pride as I notice Sister Winona's dumbfounded stare. She's sitting on her haunches, her tail wagging slowly as her pink tongue lolls from her jaws.
"How'd you do that, Brother?" she questions wonderingly. She shivers as she gingerly gets up to shove her nose under the door frame, ears ticking to the sides of her fluffy skull in thought.
"Magic," I answer simply. It would be impossible for me to explain the complexities of a door to her, even if I feel a little awful for using the cop-out answer that I use so often with her.
As she examines it further, I take a moment to step off the stone porch and observe my surroundings. There's a full moon tonight, which blankets the outside world in a pure, cream colored light. There are a few remaining lights on here and there in some of the hollow stones, but even they aren't enough to break Luna's masterful darkness.
I take a deep breath, relishing the strong odor of the dampened earthy clay beneath my paws. It's a wonderful sensation, certainly better than the stale air inside my hollow stone.
"Brother?" Sister Winona walks over to my side and sits next to me, panting softly. "Whatcha been up to?" she asks.
"Me?" I'm touched by her question, though dogs are usually overly friendly types, even with strangers. "Well, I've been more or less inside recently. The Pink Mistress has been busy taking care of The Little Lord and Miss recently, you know." I turn to her. "What of you?"
"Chasing!" she yelps, her tail swishing back and forth. "Lots of chasing!"
"Uh huh... chasing what?" I prod gently.
For long, uncomfortable pause Sister Winona doesn't say anything in reply, simply preferring to stare ahead and keep up with her soft, rhythmic panting. I wonder if she's trying to think up an adequate response, and I shift uneasily back and forth.
"Sister Winona?"
"You talk too much." She laughs lightly, much to my own annoyance. Still, I can't help but pity her ignorance. Poor thing must be confused as sin.
"Did you come to visit me?" I ask curiously. "Or were you just loitering around?"
"Oh, visiting." She rolls back her chocolaty brown shoulders nonchalantly. "I missed you, so I waited till you came out all day... I chased too, but mostly waited," she rambles easily.
"Have you seen Brother Tank recently?" I had missed seeing my airborne reptilian friend for some time since the whole fiasco with The Blue Mistress.
"Mm? Nah. Nope. Not in a long while," Sister Winona replies. She gets up and leans downwards to stretch out her spine, yawning widely.
To a dog, 'a long while' could be nothing but a few minutes, so I know not to trust an answer like that. Sister Winona is a sweet dog, of course, but still a dog.
"What're we gonna do, Brother?" she asks, bouncing up and down as she trots around me in a neat little circle. "We gonna go somewhere? I waited all day!"
"Well..." I'm at a loss, mainly due to my own immobility as I helplessly gaze about at all the endless hollow stones around me. My own range of accessibility is pretty scarce on account of my more water driven form. Then again, Sister Winona is a beast more suited to a land-bound environment.
That thought brings an idea to my head, and I turn to Sister Winona with a hopeful smile. "Say, Sister?"
"Mm?" She looks at me with her dark, peppercorn eyes, her head tilted in blank curiosity.
It takes a lot of explaining, but thankfully no persuasion to get Sister Winona to let me grab hold of her tail in my jaws without her panicking and throwing me off. Eventually though, after much arguing and disagreement over where to go we find ourselves traveling towards the 'park', as Sister Winona calls it.
I concentrate on the taste of canine fur to relinquish the chaotic battering that the soft underside of my belly takes against brittle rock and packed dirt. I cannot but feel that I'm in for a long night.