Peach and a Poodle

Quince could hardly have expected that her lighthearted rivalry with Hutch would capture the attention of Burrowgatory the way it had. Thousands of succubuns had poured in to join each imp trainer’s team, and Quince soon found herself surrounded by more people and imps than she could fathom. Still, it was nothing she couldn’t handle – and the opportunity could be valuable for her as well. Starting a new business required a certain amount of networking, just to get the name out. When Quince received a lightly perfumed golden envelope inviting her to the sender’s estate for “drinks, sandwiches and strategy” she figured it wouldn’t hurt to take him up on the invitation. Maybe she had a potential customer on her hands.

Her host greeted her in his garden with an eager, sprightly handshake, an introduction (Narcissus Jonquil, charmed, I’m sure) and a promise that he’d “crush the enemy into sesame seed dust.” Quince couldn’t doubt her host’s enthusiasm for the competition, at least. He was dressed in an outfit of white and peach, the colors almost matching her own clothes, though he chose to decorate his outfit with floral touches rather than fruits and sprinkle decals. Evidently, he was as enamored by flowers and he was by the thought of destroying a rival team. Petals of bright yellow, pink, and white interrupted lush green leaves all throughout the garden, each blossom sparkling with color and dew. After brief chatter about the state of the games, imp training, and another bought of braggadocio about the inferiority of Team Sesame, he gestured to two white wrought-iron garden chairs, a tray with champagne and finger sandwiches between them.

In addition to being a testament to its owner’s passion for plants, the garden served as a delightful play area for both his and his guest’s imps. A butter-yellow impup and peach-orange phloof tumbled and rolled with each other in the grass, squeaking in mutual excitement. They’d just been groomed by their owners and were now released to go and dirty themselves all over again. The impup batted at the phloof with its oversized paws, sending it bouncing through the air like a balloon. All in good fun.

Narcissus’ bimble floated lazily between the blooms. Motes of pollen speckled its blue fuzz with gold and cream speckles, matching the sunny silk ribbon tied beneath its chin. Occasionally, it would drift over to its owner, investigating the daffodil blooms that decorated the base of his tall antlers, before bumbling off again on its aimless journey around the garden. The low buzzing of its wings formed a droning undercurrent to its owner’s incessant rambling.

Quince enjoyed talking about imps, of course. She wouldn’t be in her profession if she didn’t. However, it was always more enjoyable if she could get a word in herself. It also didn’t help matters that Narcissus always managed to pull the topic of his pets back to his own wealth, alleged good taste, or sparkling persona. Despite his promise of discussing strategy, Narcissus seemed all too easily distracted by his own existence to focus on discussions of the imp training camp for long. Time dragged on slowly in the garden, and while Quince felt like it had been longer, she was certain that at least a few hours had passed. In that time, she was lucky to have gotten ten words in between her host’s babbling.

He’d already prattled on about his bimble (very exotic, highly unusual, the most round and adorably bumbling bimble she’s ever seen, he’s sure) and his impup (fed treats to color her to match his hair, so fashionable, probably the most intelligent and well-trained impup there’s ever been, didn’t Quince agree?), and now he had moved on to his third precious pet.

In his lap, a uniqor now sat, its pale white pelt and ruby eyes glistening in the sunlight. The uniqor’s silken fur practically sparkled as Narcissus dragged a brush along its back. The imp was certainly well taken care of, but unlike his dopey bimble and affectionate impup, the uniqor seemed a bit at odds with its owner. A too-firm pull of the brush caused it to whip its long, tufted tail against Narcissus’ leg in warning. The beating didn’t slow Narcissus’ prattling by a beat. Instead, he continued his bragging as though he wasn’t getting lashed like an insubordinate sailor, giving Quince just about the smuggest smirk she’d ever seen.

“She’s a rare find, my Lily. You’d never find her in any common imp emporium, I’ll tell you that much. Hutch does a good job, I’m sure, but we discerning collectors need more exotic stock to really impress us, isn’t that right?” Before Quince could take a breath to answer, he continued, “I’ll bet even you’ve never encountered an imp quite like this!”

Quince had, of course. Uniqors weren’t exactly common, but the booze flowing freely at Angora’s gala had drawn a few, eager to sip at discarded champagne flutes and wine bottles. They’d swiftly been picked up by party guests and were now apparently fashionable among certain social-climbing succubuns. Still, being the man’s guest, she felt the least she could do was indulge him a little.

“Oh sure, very unique. Uniqor, even.” She responded with a smile at her own pun. Narcissus gave a short pity laugh.

“I’ve heard they only enjoy the company of those pure at heart.” Quince continued. Something told her Narcissus didn’t quite fit the bill, despite his squeaky-clean appearance. “You, uh, been on your best behavior?”

“Eheh. Sure. I’m a very good boy.” He grinned, but it slowly faltered and disappeared. After looking around furtively as though someone might be eavesdropping, Narcissus leaned towards Quince as if to tell her a secret.

“But to be honest with you… I deal with her through bribery. It’s the best way I’ve found to keep friends, really.” A rueful smile played on his lips. Keeping one hand on the unqior to keep it steady, he reached into a bag besides his chair and pulled out a soft white mochi. The uniqor’s eyes grew wide as the treat entered her field of view. Her head snapped forward like a mantis strike and before Quince could even register what happened, the mochi was gone.

“One of these days she’s going to take my fingers off!” Narcissus laughed. The nervous tremor of the titter at the end of his “joke” made Quince wonder if his comment was truly one said in jest. “But I can’t let that happen. The blood might turn her red or something. Wouldn't that be appalling? So tacky!”

His previous melancholy was gone now, and he settled into a rhythm of rattling off lists of expensive items. Quince had heard his feeding routines for Thimble and Buttercup, and evidently, she needed to hear Lily’s as well. “Lily gets white wine spritzers with her breakfast and dinner. Vanilla ice cream for lunch, and you’ve seen how much she loves mochi! She also gets white truffles as a treat if she’s been very good.”

“She’s sooo grumpy without her treats! But I knooow she loves me, secretlyyy~!” Narcissus wrapped his arms around the uniqor’s slender torso and pulled it up to his chest in a hug, nuzzling his cheek to its head.

It was a bridge too far for the uniqor. It raised one of its back hooves and gave Narcissus a swift kick in the stomach. The kick forced a loud groan of pain from Narcissus’ diaphragm and reflexively he released the imp from its ill-fated cuddle. With a haughty snort, Lily hopped from his lap and pranced away as its owner clutched his belly and tried to stifle another whimper. Quince got up to help, but Narcissus motioned for her to sit back down with a trembling hand and a quavering, phony laugh.

“Ha-ha-haaaorgh! Isn’t she a riot?” He wheezed through his fangs, teeth clenched in a forced grin.

“She’s a… character,” Quince replied with a nervous smile. As Narcissus straightened up from his hunched position, quickly straightened his hair and blinked a tear from one eye, she tried to continue the conversation as though the embarrassing incident hadn’t happened. “So, uh, not a fan of red imps, huh?”

“I suppose red’s fine. But really, anything’s better than basic black. It’s so boring. Not to mention cheap.” The way Narcissus disdainfully drawled that last word, it was evident that the lack of expense and his lack of interest went hand-in-hand.

“Personally, I prefer pastels. Obviously.” He gestured to himself, all decked out in his spring-hued attire. He then turned towards the garden, where his impup and Quince’s floof continued to play with one another. “Your phloof, for example – that’s a lovely shade. Rare, too. I’ve seen plenty of pink imps, but that bright orange hue must really turn heads! What do you feed it?”

“Peach dango, mostly. Hence the name!” Glad to finally be asked about herself, Quince removed an orange-hued dumpling from the pouch in her apron and hold it out towards the pair of imps to demonstrate her imp’s special diet regimen to her host. As if drawn by an invisible signal, the phloof floated over and perched in her waiting hand.

Narcissus watched, interested in his guest for perhaps the first time that afternoon. He tilted his head to examine the phloof, his tensed brow furrowing lines into his delicately manicured face as he mentally took notes on what she said. Quince had something he wanted: that phloof. He knew better than to separate imp from owner, but if he could get his hands on some of that mochi, he could turn some dull charcoal puffball from Hutch’s shop into his own conversation starter. Maybe he could add some mimosas and nectarines to the mix, really bring out the shine in its fur, make it even better than Quince’s… he quickly became lost in his own plotting.

Taking advantage of Narcissus’ rare lull in speaking, Quince added: “I’m glad to find another aficionado of colored imps. According to Hutch, giving them any unusual food is bad for their health.”

Her words snapped Narcissus out of his scheming. All traces of intelligent thought vanished from his face, replaced by his typical veneer of shallow smugness. With a sharp-fanged smile, he leaned back in his chair flicked a hand through his hair.

“Well, beauty is pain, or so I’ve heard.” her companion said smoothly, nodding with a sense of wisdom he clearly didn’t possess. “I wouldn’t know. This is all natural--“

Quince groaned internally. She hurriedly interrupted before Narcissus could go into another monologue about himself, trying to steer the conversation back towards imps (or, at least, anything else). “You know – if you like unique imps, I’ve got a critter that might pique your interest. Hold on a minute.”

Narcissus thought he counted more than a few minutes by the time Quince returned to the garden, an imp crate held in the crook of one of her beefy arms. Before he could utter a question, she held up one finger to her mouth. With a slight huff, he acquiesced, leaning back to silently watch. Quince bent down, put the crate in the grass, unlatched the door, and out bounded something.

The bubblegum-pink creature looked like some combination of impup and ice cream. As it ran towards him to give him a sniff, its whipped-cream bouffant bounced merrily, distressingly edible looking. Maybe Hutch was onto something about succubun food mutating imps. Narcissus had thought his uniqor was unique, but this creature was an anomaly.

“What – is – THAT?” Narcissus shrieked, voice rising an octave with each word.

“Oh, not you too…” Quince groaned, recalling her previous argument with Hutch. Instinctively she bent down to scoop the imp back up, lest Narcissus utter some unkind word that might hurt its delicate feelings. “Listen, it’s not a mutant –“

“No no no, it’s a MASTERPIECE!” Narcissus exclaimed, his look of shock transforming into an elated smile. He practically lept towards the Stroodle before Quince could pull it away. Giddily, he got down on his knees and held out his arms to the strange creature. It needed little invitation, and its poofy tail wagged as the envy bun patted it and ran his hands through its creampuff fluff. Narcissus tilted up the unusual imp's face to get a better look at it, his pointed nose and its pointy snout almost touching as he gazed at it in envious admiration.

“I’ve never seen anything like this – I bet nobody has. Oooohoho, just imagine the stares this thing would get if I walked it down the pier! No one would be able to keep their eyes off me!” His eyes would be turning green if they weren’t green already. “Where did you get this? I neee-hee-heeeed one!”

Though his motivations were a bit egotistical, Quince had to appreciate Narcissus’ excitement over her (literal) pet project. It seemed like she'd brought the right imp to the right man - both proud, bold, and hungry for attention. Now it was her turn to brag.

“It's a Stroodle. I develop ‘em, train ‘em and stock ‘em myself,” she replied to Narcissus’ gushing, a hint of pride sneaking into her voice. “If you’re interested, I could sell this one to you – but I gotta warn you, my imps are expensive and exclusive –”

“Expensive? Exclusive?” Narcissus repeated, eyes glittering. “Tell me more.”