team spirit - imogen

“Quince, dear?”

Imogen beckoned the other woman with a gentle voice. Her stroodle, Annie, rested in her lap as Imogen stroked through her strawberry-pink fur, the imp unbothered by the hullabaloo around them. Imogen’s face crinkled up a bit as she watched Quince attempt to wrangle in a cribbit with her large hands.

Distantly, as Quince turned around with a, “Gotcha!” as she scooped the rather proud cribbit into her palm, Imogen admired how large Quince’s arms and overall build was. The owner of Pedigree Pets was sturdier than ever her very own Morgan. 

“What’s up?” Quince asked, as the regal cribbit all but attempted to squirm its way out of Quince’s meaty grasp. Imogen watched, dismayed, as the creature nearly squeezed itself into a tube-like state to escape Quince’s seemingly iron grip. “You worried about the little guy?”

Oh, I’ll sound rude if I say no, Imogen thought uncomfortably, using her fingers to rub at the side of Annie’s head thoughtfully. Annie keened gratefully, rubbing her fluffy head into Imogen’s touch; a far gentler one than what Quince handled the cribbit with.

“Not worried. I’m sure you know what you’re doing with him,” Imogen said.

Quince gave a hearty laugh. “Of course,” she said, showing teeth with her smile. “This fella right here was about to hop off to find a puddle somewhere. Cribbits hate being handled, but look, I’ll just set ‘em down.”

True to her word, Quince lumbered over and set the cribbit down onto the ground, dewy in the early morning hour. It seemed grateful as it hopped a bit away from Quince, only to glance back at her. Though its eyes were all but a large, round pool of blue, it stared at Quince as though it understood its master’s intentions.

“No running away,” Quince said pointedly.

The cribbit bounced only a ways away where both Imogen and Quince could both see it plainly. With a seemingly pleasured, chiming croak, it settled down and brandished its shimmering crystals before closing its large eyes.

Imogen took one of Annie’s ears between her thumb and forefinger and stroked her.

“Your imps are remarkably intelligent,” Imogen revered with a smile. Quince seemed to smile a bit wider at that, too; apparently proud of her breeding’s efforts. “It’s almost like he could understand what you were saying to him.”

“Because he could,” Quince stressed to Imogen, looking delighted as her lepidaisy took the opportunity to float towards Quince, now that the cribbit had settled down. “And because they are.”

The lepidaisy’s eyes appeared just as big as the cribbit’s to Imogen, but it had a shinier, cuter sheen reflected in its gaze that suited her tastes a bit more. It seemed happy as it fluttered onto one of Quince’s thick fingers to rest there contentedly, closing its eyes thereafter. “Oh, heya sweetie,” Quince greeted the little green creature, poking it right between its eyes. The lepidaisy fluttered and shook its wings happily in response.

Well, I can’t be mad at this, Imogen tempered herself as Quince cooed at the lepidaisy for a quick moment, having been holding the question on her tongue for the past few minutes as Quince all but gallivanted around with her imps. It made sense that they would be her pride and joy. 

“Ah, you were going to say something, right?” Quince probed. 

Imogen nearly jumped out of her skin, smiling a bit bashfully. She could feel the bridge of her nose warm up, but she nodded nonetheless.

“I was. I apologize,” Imogen said.

Quince gave her a lopsided grin. “Apologize for what? Sorry, I just get so caught up with these guys sometimes. They’re easy to get lost in,” Quince gestured to Imogen’s dear stroodle, who was resting her chin on the top of Imogen’s thigh. The lepidaisy seemed to become alert at Quince’s gesture, looking at Annie with equally attentive eyes. “I’m sure you get it,” Quince finished.

Imogen laughed softly, nodding her head. “I do, I do,” said Imogen. “Ah—but to my question. I was interested in knowing more about stellarams.”

Quince looked pleased at Imogen’s question. “Ohhh, are you now?” Her bright blue eyes lit up even further, matching the entranced look on the lepidaisy’s face. Quince moved her hand in such a way that the lepidaisy used its wigs to hop onto one of her other fingers, perching there. “Well, what can I tell you about ‘em?”

Imogen felt a little silly, admittedly. Annie, who had been resting her chin down, seemed to be interested in her owner’s inquiry, as she lifted her head to blink up at her. 

Oh, so smart, little Annie, Imogen internally praised, realizing that imps really were intelligent beings. Imogen petted at the top of Annie’s head, booping the cherry on top with the tip of her finger as she smiled. Having Annie there was reassuring for her.

“Well… are they compatible with stroodles, for one?” Imogen asked. “Annie is so well-bred… ah, not to be rude, but I much prefer Pedigree Pets to the Imporium.”

Quince grinned an even toothier smile than before. “Not rude,” she said, whistling a little. “Not rude at all. I appreciate it.”

Imogen couldn’t help but smile a little wider, feeling a bit guilty for Hutch’s sake. “Yes, well—I’m glad. That being said, I’ve been thinking of bringing another imp into mine and Morgan’s home. I’ve thought that Morgan needs the responsibility of taking care of an imp… he’s so irresponsible, you know? He’s always out of the house partying or something or other, while I’m at the house, taking care of Annie and the chores, waiting for him to get back.”

For the first time, Quince had no further comment as she waited for Imogen to continue. 

Imogen, seemingly not noticing that she had gone uncomfortably off topic, simply continued, “But I don’t want to make Annie feel unloved, or have another imp intrude in her home. So of course, I thought to ask you first! There’s nobody more qualified, yes?”

“Yes indeed, ma’am,” Quince gave a heavy nod. “And you’re in luck. I’ve got a sleepy stellaram dozing off… somewhere around here,” Quince said, thinking to herself as she glanced at the lepidaisy on her finger, who in turn glanced around with her, as if both were searching for the stellaram. Neither of them seemed too concerned about its whereabouts, however, checking over the gaudily dozing cribbit in its place as Quince redirected her attention to one of the nearby bushes.

“Somewhere in those bushes, even,” Quince chuckled, bringing Imogen’s attention to the spot where indeed, a little black and gold stellaram could be seen sleeping underneath the cascade of crunchy leaves. It was remarkably precious, and its fluffiness rivaled even Annie’s. “I doubt they’d clash, though, by the way. Annie have a bad personality? Yappy?”

Imogen looked a bit scandalized. “Of course she isn’t. I’ve trained her well,” Imogen said, trying her best not to be offended.

“Well then, hey!” Quince celebrated, and so did the lepidaisy on her finger, stretching and fluttering its wings with glee. “Stellarams are sleepy, peaceful imps… as you can see. They don’t ever cause any trouble for anyone. They mostly doze all their days away, the works. They’re great for cuddling up to if you can’t get to sleep. And if Annie isn’t the loud, snooty sort of stroodle, well then, hey! I think you’ve got yourself a match… sorry, by the way.”

Imogen’s nose crinkled curiously. “Whatever for, dear?”

“I can tell you’re protective of Annie,” Quince said warmly. “She looks like a good girl to me. Didn’t want to question your integrity as her owner.”

Appreciating Quince’s words, Imogen shook her head gently, feeling her tension melt away in her chest. “Please don’t worry yourself, I understand. This outing has taught me many things… would it be alright if I took Annie to meet the dozing little dear over there, then?”

“It would be my pleasure to oversee it, ma’am.”