Dances with Werelupes
Mar 9, 2015 13:21:24 GMT -5
Stephanie (swordlilly), Diana, and 3 more like this
Post by Deleted on Mar 9, 2015 13:21:24 GMT -5
Hello, all!
I've been scarce lately, but it's all for good things. I've been getting a lot done and real life and stuff.
However. (There's always a "however".)
The recent news about the layoffs at Neopets hit me pretty hard. A large part of the reason I've always loved the site was because of the creative genius of the minds behind it. Now, it seems, nearly all of those minds are gone. Ironically, just yesterday I was telling a friend that one of the reasons I love the site so much is because of the staff's creativity.
I'm pretty shocked, and sad, that this happened. I'm earnestly hoping that this means JumpStart is trying to fix the site's internal issues from the ground up, and not that the site is tanking. But at the same time, the minds behind everything I loved about the site are now gone. I'm mourning.
Thus, I've decided to go ahead and post this here. It's a silly little story I wrote for the NT because sometimes my brain gets strange ideas and won't leave me alone about them. I'm concerned about the future of the NT, and if this never gets a chance to be published there, I at least want to share it with the people who have enjoyed my previous silly stories about my Neopets (and bizarre interpretations of canon characters).
I wouldn't call this a swan song--I'll still be playing Neopets with the hope that where one door closes, another opens. I doubt I would leave the site for good unless a) it actually closes down or b) JumpStart does something really alienating (like try to make it a children's site rather than a family site, or make it intolerably pay-to-play/win). (Also I'm still waiting for Ghoul Catchers to be released for Android aaauuuggghhh) But I've decided this story will be my tribute to Neopets the way I used to know it.
I'm not looking for critique or anything. Just enjoy it.
(I would also like to direct your attention to this comic if you enjoy my taking Werelupes out of context.)
(Also, FYI, if the NT does go down or stops updating, I'll put my previously-published Neopets works on Fanfiction.net so they can continue to be enjoyed.)
I've been scarce lately, but it's all for good things. I've been getting a lot done and real life and stuff.
However. (There's always a "however".)
The recent news about the layoffs at Neopets hit me pretty hard. A large part of the reason I've always loved the site was because of the creative genius of the minds behind it. Now, it seems, nearly all of those minds are gone. Ironically, just yesterday I was telling a friend that one of the reasons I love the site so much is because of the staff's creativity.
I'm pretty shocked, and sad, that this happened. I'm earnestly hoping that this means JumpStart is trying to fix the site's internal issues from the ground up, and not that the site is tanking. But at the same time, the minds behind everything I loved about the site are now gone. I'm mourning.
Thus, I've decided to go ahead and post this here. It's a silly little story I wrote for the NT because sometimes my brain gets strange ideas and won't leave me alone about them. I'm concerned about the future of the NT, and if this never gets a chance to be published there, I at least want to share it with the people who have enjoyed my previous silly stories about my Neopets (and bizarre interpretations of canon characters).
I wouldn't call this a swan song--I'll still be playing Neopets with the hope that where one door closes, another opens. I doubt I would leave the site for good unless a) it actually closes down or b) JumpStart does something really alienating (like try to make it a children's site rather than a family site, or make it intolerably pay-to-play/win). (Also I'm still waiting for Ghoul Catchers to be released for Android aaauuuggghhh) But I've decided this story will be my tribute to Neopets the way I used to know it.
I'm not looking for critique or anything. Just enjoy it.
Dances with Werelupes
“This is an outrage!” Blynn679 backhanded the front page of the Neopian Times. The Disco Zafara’s magenta tail lashed behind her in frustration as she paced around the library of her family’s Altador villa.
Her Faerie Draik brother edged over her shoulder to look at the headlines. “What’s an outrage?” ArPharazonTheGolden asked.
“This!” Blynn pointed to the largest text on the page: PREPARATIONS FOR ANNUAL CHOCOLATE BALL UNDERWAY. Beneath it was an illustration of the Chocolate Factory shopkeeper overseeing the decoration of an enormous dancing hall.
Pharazon’s brows pinched together in confusion. “Yes, that’s… that’s terrible, Blynn. My condolences. I think.”
“Social injustice, that’s what it is!” Blynn shrieked.
“Clearly,” Dark_breed_Hyren said flatly as he looked up from his mug of borovan. The blue Grundo gestured to the paper from his reclined position on the couch. “Can I have that back now?”
Blynn pouted. “Only if you complain about the unfairness of it all!”
“Um,” said their owner Terra, who was leaning against the table with one hand in her trousers pocket.
Pharazon scratched his head. “I don’t get it—I thought you liked chocolate.”
“Yes, that’s the problem!” Blynn said. “I love chocolate! And this stupid ball is invitation-only! Access is restricted to only the very elite of Neopian society! All of the bigwigs, the celebrities, the political leaders—Fyora herself even makes an appearance!” She smushed her nose against Pharazon’s snout. “Fee-oh-rah!”
Hyren shrugged. “And…? It’s just a glorified sneak peek of the Chocolate Factory’s upcoming products. If you wait a few months, you can buy the stuff anyway, without all of the pomp.”
“Um,” Terra said again, fingering whatever was in her pocket. With her other hand she reached up and tugged on her brown braid nervously.
“The point is,” Blynn fumed, “he’s holding out on us—in order to appease the upper crust! They’re just a bunch of hobnobbing snobs!”
“Wearing fobs?” Pharazon offered.
Blynn nodded gravely. “I bet they’re all slobs.” She scanned the room with narrow eyes, and then her ears perked. “A-ha! That’s it!” She steepled her fingers. “I have an idea… a wonderful idea…”
“That hopefully doesn’t involve Donkasaurs again,” Hyren muttered, taking a sip of his borovan.
The Zafara shook a paw at him. “No, no. I admit that one wasn’t well-thought-out.”
Terra shifted her weight. “Uh, guys—“
Blynn clapped her paws together. “We’ll have a Chocolate Llab!”
Pharazon quirked an eyebrow. “… ‘Llab’?”
“It’s ‘Ball’ backwards. Because we’re backwards sorts of people.” Blynn said, turning a cartwheel across the floor to demonstrate. “Except, let’s pronounce it ‘hlab’.”
“Wouldn’t just ‘lab’ make more sense?” Pharazon asked. “It’s just two L’s.”
“But ‘hlab’ is so much cooler and more unexpected!” Blynn began pacing around the room. “We can hold it in the great hall in the north wing! I’ve been looking for an excuse to use it!”
Hyren picked up the discarded newspaper and began leafing through it, looking for the page he had left off on. “Why did we even include that in the floor plan, anyway? We’re not lavish party-throwers.”
“Traditional Altadorian villas include a large hall for entertaining,” Pharazon explained. “And, after all, it’s better to build a room just in case you’ll need it, than have the house built and then discover you’re in need of another room.”
The Grundo grunted his agreement. “Point taken.”
“This’ll be great!” Blynn cried. “We’ll have music – Sticks N’ Stones, of course – and games, and loads and loads of chocolate! And the best part is, it’ll be utterly unpretentious!” She turned to their owner. “Oh, can we, Terra, can we?”
The girl gave her Zafara a nervous smile. “Of course, that sounds like an awesome idea. But, um…” With an embarrassed sigh, she drew a folded piece of parchment out of her pocket. “I don’t think I’ll be able to attend.”
Blynn’s jaw dropped, and her brothers’ eyes widened. “Is… that what I think it is?” Blynn asked.
“You got an invitation to the Chocolate Ball?” Hyren looked up from the paper in confusion. “Granted we’re well-off, but last time I checked, you weren’t a celebrity. Our family saving Brightvale last year notwithstanding.”
“Well, uh…” Terra unfolded the parchment and turned it around to show her Neopets a neatly written letter, signed with a large, anthropomorphic paw print. “I didn’t get an invitation. Isengrim did.”
“Isengrim?!” her three pets shouted in unison.
Terra blushed self-consciously. “Well, he is the Werelupe King. He’s kind of important.” She looked back to the paper. “I guess when you’re invited to the Chocolate Ball, you can bring one guest, but Suhel didn’t want to go.”
“But she’s Isengrim’s second-in-command,” Pharazon said.
Terra nodded. “Yeah, but apparently she doesn’t care much for these kinds of social events, and she doesn’t have a sweet tooth. And since I’m Isengrim’s owner, he thought of me next.”
Blynn kicked at the floor. “Aww, man. C’mon, Terra, you don’t really wanna go to that stuffy old thing, do you?”
“Actually…” Terra scratched the back of her head. “I think it might be kind of fun. I at least want to say I went when I had the opportunity, I guess. Besides, I don’t want Isengrim to have to go by himself.”
Hyren snorted. “Yeah, someone needs to be on damage control.”
“Okay, so he’s not exactly the poster child for social graces,” Terra admitted, leaning back against the table. She smirked. “Look, I’ll bring you guys back all the chocolate I can, how’s that?”
Blynn narrowed her eyes. “You drive a hard bargain, Terra.” She rubbed at her furry chin and then clambered onto the table so she was closer to the human’s eye level. Drawing herself up imperiously, she announced, “Okay. I’ll allow you to go, but on one condition.” She stretched her hind legs and put her paws on Terra’s shoulders, sticking her nose close to her owner’s. “You gotta have as much fun as you possibly can!”
The two laughed and Terra picked Blynn up under the arms, swinging her around before collapsing on the couch next to Hyren and hugging her tight. “You’ve got a deal!”
***
The Chocolate Ball was a week later. After making the necessary preparations, Terra took a Shenkuuvian sky-ship to the Werelupe Woods and picked up Isengrim, and then the two sped off to Neopia Central.
They had booked rooms at the Royal Neopian, and spent the day of the ball just relaxing on the premises and enjoying each other’s company. They explored the extensive hotel, pretended like they were good at tennis – Isengrim ended up inadvertently breaking three rackets – and had lunch at the hotel’s restaurant, where Isengrim ripped into steak and ribs and Terra enjoyed her salad and pizza.
As the sun dipped below the horizon and the bustling metropolis of Neopia Central became aglow with innumerable Faerie-magic lights, Terra and her Werelupe retired to their rooms to get ready for their public appearance.
Terra was in the bathroom, trying to figure out her hair, when there came a knock at her door. She opened it and her eyes widened at the sight before her: a massive Werelupe clad in armour fashioned from bones. The skull of some beast with long fangs and twisting horns adorned his head, and his crimson eyes gleamed down at her from within the skull’s empty eye sockets. A long crest of scarlet hair was attached to the back of the skull, and a thick cape of fur draped down from the Werelupe’s shoulders to complete the unconventional ensemble.
“Isengrim…” Terra chuckled and leaned against the doorframe, putting a hand on her chest. “You’re wearing your battle armour to the Chocolate Ball?”
The Werelupe King nodded, his helmet’s crest swaying behind him. “I asked Celice for some pointers before I left the Woods. She informed me that it is customary for military leaders to wear their war regalia at formal gatherings of this degree.” His tail lifted. “Also, I think it looks… ‘cool’, as you would put it.”
Terra laughed. “I think it looks cool, too, but… I’m worried it might send the wrong message at a social event.”
Isengrim grinned saccharinely. “You are right. I shall attend in naught but my skin breeches.”
For an awkwardly silent moment, Terra just stared at him in disbelief.
“That was sarcasm,” he prompted.
Terra smiled in exasperation and buried her face in her hand. “Oh, good, you scared me for a second there. Armour it is, then.”
“And you look stunning as well,” Isengrim said, leaning down to sniff at her gown. It was a long-sleeved, high-necked piece fashioned after traditional Brightvalian styles, decorated with intricate patterns of swirling silver.
The human blushed at the compliment. “Thanks. I’ve never worn anything this fancy before. I felt weird just buying it.”
Isengrim used a claw to tilt up her chin. “You wear it well. Hold your head high, you are beautiful.”
Terra smiled. “You’re sweet.” Leaning in, she gave him a hug and he returned it. “Look!” She held up her wrist—on it dangled a bracelet of fangs.
The Werelupe’s tail wagged and his ears lowered as a grin cracked his muzzle. “Ah, you remembered!”
“Mm-hm!” Terra fingered the fangs. “I am a member of your pack, after all. This is a badge of honour, and I’m proud to be your owner.”
“The honour is mine, I assure you,” Isengrim replied, patting her head. His claws moved to finger a strand of her hair, loose from its usual braid. “And your hair is lovely as well!”
Terra chuckled. “Oh, that. Actually, I was just trying to put it up, but… I have no idea how to do that.”
Isengrim tilted his head. “Up?”
“Mm-hm.” Terra gathered her hair into a clump at the back of her skull. “I was thinking just a simple bun like the one Celice keeps her hair, in, but…” Her tongue stuck out in concentration. “It’s hard when you can’t see the back of your head!”
The Werelupe King laughed. “Perhaps I can help,” he said, poking his snout over her shoulder to see what she was trying to do. “I am familiar with how my ambassador wears her hair, after all.”
“Good idea!” Terra grabbed his wrist and led him to the bathroom, in front of the mirror. “And you can see the back of my head a lot better than I can.”
Isengrim set his helmet on the counter and carefully gathered Terra’s hair into a twist. “All right… I will admit, Celice makes this look easy,” he grunted as he turned the human’s hair this way and that, as though he was trying to magically make it assume bun form.
“Oh, crumbs…” Terra bit her lip as she examined her mirror image. “I think you need pins or something. I totally forgot those. I don’t think my hair tie will help…”
The Werelupe thought for a moment, and then his ears perked. “I’ve got it.” Reaching down, he plucked a long, thin bone from his armour. One end was sharpened into a point, and he deftly curled Terra’s hair over itself and up before securing it with the bone. “Problem solved,” he said with a grin, stepping back to let her admire his handiwork.
Terra turned her head back and forth, trying to see as much of her new hairdo as possible as a smile crept up her face. “It looks wonderful! Thank you so much, Isengrim!”
“Werelupes are great craftspets, after all,” he replied with a smirk. He patted one of his bone pauldrons. “I did not exactly order this armour from a catalogue.”
“Perfect.” Terra looked herself over one last time and then turned to her Werelupe. “I’m sorry… I didn’t make us late, did I?”
Isengrim shook his head. “Werelupes always arrive precisely when they want to.” He put his helmet back on and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
“Indeed!” Terra took his arm, and off they strolled to the Chocolate Ball.
Dusk had overlaid the sky in a velvety purple by the time they left the hotel. Lampposts cast circles of warm Faerie-light in a regular pattern on the sidewalk, and Uni-drawn carriages bustled up and down the busy streets, their wheels making a racket on the cobblestone.
The Royal Neopian was only a few blocks from the Chocolate Factory. As Terra and Isengrim neared, they began to see other attendees making their way toward the enormous gates that served as a rarely-opened portal between the rest of Neopia and the sanctum where the Kiko chocolatier created his masterpieces. Some guests were on foot, while others were being dropped off by Uni carriages or Eyrie cabs. A few had ridden or flown in on Petpet mounts, or using the power of their own wings. There were even a few Faeries scattered among the Neopets.
One thing they had in common was that they were elegantly dressed and looked every part of high Neopian society. Terra watched them as the elaborately-wrought factory gates loomed high over even Isengrim’s head, and found herself clutching his arm tighter.
He ducked his snout to her head. “Do not be afraid, Terra. Just have fun.”
She smiled up at him. “Right.” After all, celebrities or no, they were people just like her, and she had every right to be here and enjoy herself.
The courtyard had been decorated with strings of lights that curved gracefully from the factory’s roof to the high surrounding wall. Fountains of chocolate - milk, dark, and white - burbled serenely in the wide space leading to the doors.
As Terra and Isengrim crossed the courtyard, murmurs and gasps spread through the other guests. Neopets they passed gave them strange looks, and Isengrim merely grinned in reply, his ears perked and forward and his tail held high.
“They must like your dress,” he said as he led his owner to the stairs.
Terra looked around at the unsure expressions on the attendees’ faces. “Er… I’m pretty sure they’re unnerved by your armour, actually.”
“Well, that is acceptable too.” He suddenly stopped cold and his tail drooped between his legs.
“What’s wrong?” Terra asked.
He whispered, “Illusen.” Subtly, he nodded his snout to where the Earth Faerie was alighting in the courtyard. The Werelupe let out a hiss. “No one told me she would be here.”
“Don’t let that ruin your evening,” Terra said, patting his arm. “It’s only awkward if you make it awkward.”
“My pack tried to overrun her glade and she repulsed us—twice,” Isengrim recalled, ducking his head. “That is not awkward, that is… a nemesis.”
Terra sighed. “Yes, and you’re on peaceful terms with Meridell now, so you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.”
“I still dislike Faeries,” Isengrim grumbled as they continued on their way. “Let’s just try to stay away from her.”
The Kiko chocolatier floated at the tall doors to the factory, beckoning his guests with one hand while clutching his cane with the other. His top hat and suit looked especially crisp as he welcomed each attendee by name, shaking their hand and thanking them for coming.
“King Isengrim!” he said as he reached up to grasp the Werelupe’s paw, seeming completely unfazed by this particular guest’s unconventional appearance. “Welcome, my good sir, welcome to the Chocolate Ball!”
Isengrim shook his hand firmly. “Lord Isengrim. It sounds better.” He gestured to the human at his arm. “And this is my owner, Terra.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Terra said with a curtsy. “Thanks so much for putting on this ball. It looks amazing so far!”
The Kiko chuckled. “You’ve not seen the half of it yet, my dear! Just wait until you get to the ballroom!” He ushered them forward. “Just follow the brown carpet, and enjoy the factory tour!”
The long carpet under their feet led directly into the heart of the factory. It took Terra and Isengrim on a winding journey of what must have been only a small part of the enormous chocolate works. They passed by mysterious machinery, currently in a powered-down state; displays showing the history of Kiko confectionery and the history of the Chocolate Factory; and, behind glass cases, samples of the fanciful new products that the chocolatier had been hard at work creating. It was here that most of the guests had stalled, as they analyzed each piece and exchanged critique.
“There will be a tasting later,” the Kiko chocolatier explained, floating up from behind the human and her Werelupe. “The Neopets you see here are chocolate connoisseurs with impeccable taste. Everything I sell in my shop has been run by them first.”
Terra nodded. “Do we get to try, too?”
“Of course!” The Kiko bobbed closer to her. “But I must charge you with the strictest secrecy. Confectionery is a fiercely competitive business, and all of my recipes are proprietary. I must ask that you divulge no detail of these unreleased products—and do not try to take any of them outside the factory gates.”
“I won’t, sir,” Terra said, shaking her head fervently. “I promise.”
Isengrim suddenly bared his fangs and snarled at the chocolatier. “My owner is no traitor!”
Terra put a hand on his chestplate and pushed him back. “Don’t snarl at the host, sweetie, it’s unbecoming. I’m sure he gives that speech to everybody.” Isengrim nodded sullenly in reply.
The Kiko seemed not to have noticed the Werelupe’s sudden display of aggression. Instead he beamed up at the two and doffed his hat. “That being said, do enjoy your evening!” He gestured again down the carpet. Through the almost oppressive gloom of the titanic, silent factory, the sweet strains of a waltz had begun to drift.
“I can’t decide whether this place is cool or creepy,” Terra said as they made their way down the long hall that led to another tall set of doors. “Probably both. And that’s probably just the way the owner likes it.”
Isengrim chuckled. “He does seem a touch… mad. Then again, I am one to speak.”
Walking through the doors was like stepping into a different world. The ballroom was immense, easily larger than King Skarl’s throne room. The floor space was more than ample enough to hold a band of classical musicians in tuxedoes and gowns, a buffet consisting of a light dinner and a vast array of chocolate confections, and several more chocolate fountains besides. And there was still plenty of room for the dancers who elegantly glided across the marble flooring.
“Wow…” Terra breathed, craning her neck to try to take it all in, from the massive crystal chandeliers to the tall windows that looked out on a lush garden. “This is incredible…”
Isengrim removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm. “It certainly—“ His ears perked and he snapped to the attention of a Chocolate Chia who waddled obliviously past them. “Yes, everything looks… delicious.” His crimson eyes were riveted on the Chia as the Werelupe sniffed the air and a toothy grin rose up his muzzle.
“Isengrim, calm down.” Terra pulled him away from following the sentient morsel. “You can’t do this every time you see a Chia.”
The Werelupe King spread his forepaws. “It’s their fault for looking so delicious!” He pointed to where a group of fruit-coloured Chias were cavorting in a chocolate fountain. “It’s like they want to be eaten! How can any Werelupe resist that?!”
“Because he’s a Werelupe who practises self-control,” Terra insisted firmly. “Let’s go get dinner.”
They shuffled into place at the buffet line, where Isengrim gave disappointed and disapproving looks at the dainty sandwiches and delicate hors d’oeuvres. “I wish there was more meat,” he muttered under his breath. “And more… in general.”
“I sympathize with your plight too well, my lord!” a deep voice guffawed from across the table. King Skarl stood there, indiscriminately shoveling food onto his plate, much to the chagrin of the guests next to him. “I understand that the chocolate is supposed to be the main attraction… but what I wouldn’t give for some good gammon instead of this Snowbunny feed!”
Isengrim and Terra looked at him for a moment and then laughed. “Well,” Isengrim said with a grin, “we shall have to make up for it with one of your legendary banquets when we return home!”
“Indeed we shall!” The Skeith’s wings fluttered in delight at the idea. “Then, we shall truly sup like the kings we are—“ His ears lifted as he looked past the Werelupe and owner. “Ah, Illusen!” he shouted. “So good of you to come, milady!”
Isengrim’s fur flattened and he set down his plate to jam his helmet back on his head. “Maybe she won’t recognize me,” he whimpered.
Terra gave him a skeptical look. “Isengrim, sweetie, you’re the only Werelupe here. Also you’re a head taller than everyone but Lord Darigan.” She gestured to where the Citadel’s ruler was chatting with Sir Jeran, Lady Lisha, and an orange-haired Usul girl.
Skarl, meanwhile, seemed oblivious to his fellow king’s distress. “Illusen, come try some of this food, why don’t you! Of a truth, it’s more your style than mine!”
Isengrim grabbed his owner’s hand and turned to run. “Terra, let’s—“ His ears flattened at the sight of Illusen heading straight for them. Letting out a whimper, he ducked behind his owner as though she could block his massive frame. “Hide me.”
This left Terra to smile nervously as Illusen made her way to the table and picked up a plate. “Oh, this does look quite good,” the freckled Faerie told Skarl with a smile. “Although, the nice thing about being a Faerie is that you can eat all the chocolate you like and it does nothing for your figure.”
Skarl patted his considerable paunch. “Aye, and I eat all the chocolate I like and don’t care about my figure!”
The two shared a laugh, and then Illusen casually turned toward Terra and her cowering Werelupe. The Faerie’s deep green eyes narrowed and her smile froze. “Hello, Isengrim.”
Part 2
The Werelupe King peeked his snout over Terra’s shoulder. “Lady Illusen…” he grumbled. “I was not expecting to see you here.”
“The sentiment is mutual,” the Faerie said, folding her arms and tilting her head, looking down at him like a disapproving parent.
A low growl rose from Isengrim’s throat as he stood up. Illusen was taller and longer-limbed than any normal human, but the Werelupe still easily won in the height and bulk division. “Well, then,” he said, ears still low, “we can both go our separate ways and not trouble each other any longer.”
“Tell me,” Illusen said, drumming her fingers on her arms, “are you planning on stealing the chocolatier’s recipes? You’re quite good at taking things that don’t belong to you.”
Isengrim bared his fangs and snapped at her. “How dare you insult me?!”
“How dare you decide you own whatever land you infest?!” The Faerie’s wings shivered, throwing off green sparks.
“I do not infest things—I am not a disease!” Isengrim snarled.
Terra wedged herself between them. “You guys!”
Illusen glanced down at the girl. “Who is this?”
“My name’s Terra,” the human said firmly, “and I’m Isengrim’s owner. And I’m sorry if you have previous grievance with him, but he’s changed since he tried to take your glade.”
“I know all about his entanglement with Brightvale last year,” Illusen huffed. “Meridell has accepted his presence and claim to territory as well.” She looked over her shoulder to where Skarl had been, but the Skeith had now moved on to the dessert tables. Her green eyes snapped back to the owner and Werelupe. “But that does not mean I agree with it.”
Isengrim snorted. “My authority does not rely on your consent. Do not stick your wings where they have no influence.”
“And you would be wise,” Illusen said, “not to speak so flippantly to a Faerie.”
Terra sighed. “Guys, please. Let’s just talk this out. You’re making a scene.” She turned to Illusen. “Okay, so you’re still upset at him for trying to take over your glade all those years ago, right?”
The Faerie nodded. “Twice. Clearly, he learns nothing from his mistakes.”
“That is not true!” Isengrim barked.
Terra looked over at him. “Isengrim, you feel like she’s antagonizing you unfairly.”
He nodded. “If she would just have the sense to look past her own nose instead of speculating about politics and talking to trees, she would see that I am running my kingdom quite well!”
“I still don’t trust you!” Illusen said. “You willingly align yourself with the Darkest Faerie, and you expect—“
“Excuse me, Lady Illusen,” said a Kougra woman wearing a large, feathered hat. “You’re holding up the line.” A crowd of irritated and hungry guests had accumulated while the two were having their debate.
Illusen flushed and stepped aside. Isengrim snickered and she glowered at him. “You expect me to simply forgive you after that? I am not so easily swayed as Skarl or Hagan, I’ll have you know!”
“Who said I ever wanted your forgiveness?” Isengrim growled. “I’ve not come groveling to you like a puppy, although I am sure you enjoy putting yourself on a pedestal like that!”
Terra grimaced and hugged the Werelupe’s arm. “I think you two just need to apologise and let bygones be bygones. Don’t let this fester. It clearly isn’t doing either of you any good.” She looked up at him. “Please, just say you’re sorry. She won’t budge on this until you do.”
Isengrim looked down at her and his lips lowered back over his teeth. He stared at her for a long moment and then nodded. As though it pained him, he looked back to the Faerie. “Lady Illusen,” he began haltingly, putting a paw to his chest. “I apologise for the theft of your domain and your property. I was trying to find a home for my pack and secure greater means for ourselves. We shan’t bother you again.”
Illusen regarded him dubiously. “Apology accepted. I—“ She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I forgive you, Lord Isengrim. And I apologise for treating you with such disdain. Your owner is right—this is a happy occasion, we should not ruin it with our ill feelings.”
She puffed out one cheek and glanced around. “Oh—there’s Fyora—I’ve been meaning to talk to her about… soil alkalinity…” Those were her parting words to the two as she grabbed her food plate and swept away.
Terra and Isengrim watched her go. “Well,” Terra said, “I’m glad you got that resolved.”
Isengrim sighed. “I do not feel like I have made much progress.”
“You have.” Terra put a hand on one of his bone bracers. “It’s hard to see when you’re on the inside looking out, but you have. I mean, you actually got Illusen to apologize, and you know how she holds her grudges. As do you.”
The Werelupe’s tail lifted. “Yes, that is true… thank you, Terra.” He patted her head. “You are so small…” he murmured. “Come, let us sup, and then we shall test this chocolate-maker’s mettle.”
As they ate their light dinner, they chatted with Kings Skarl and Hagan, Isengrim’s closest neighboring rulers as the Werelupe Woods was sandwiched between Meridell and Brightvale.
“It’s an honour to finally meet you,” Hagan mentioned as Terra curtseyed to him. “When last you visited my kingdom, you were under a grievous curse. You must return sometime, I’m sure you would enjoy our libraries.”
“Pharazon and Celice have told me wonderful things about the palace and the university,” Terra said. “I would like to be conscious during my next visit to Brightvale, yes.”
Skarl snickered as he practically inhaled his salad. “Aye, and then you’ll have to stop by for that banquet I promised Isengrim! I shall have double the roasts made!”
Terra’s smile grew politely strained. Before she could say anything, Isengrim put an arm around her shoulders. “Terra does not eat meat,” he explained, “but I shall be happy to help you with those roasts, Skarl.”
“Oh?” Skarl looked at the girl like she was a curiosity. “Do you like potatoes, then?”
Terra grinned in relief. “I love potatoes! Eating them, that is. Not so much counting them.”
Skarl placed a paw on his belly and laughed. “Then you’ll fit right in, lass!”
They chatted for a while about the state of their kingdoms and affairs between them. Lord Darigan popped in for a bit, giving Isengrim a chance to get acquainted with the Citadel’s reclusive ruler as well.
When they had eaten their fill – except for Skarl, who never really quite seemed to be full – they went their separate ways, and Terra practically dragged Isengrim to the chocolate buffet. The tables were piled high with all manner of fantastic cacao creations, from artfully decorated bonbons to bars of unusual flavours such as Carnapepper and Olive or Biscuit and Jelly.
One display even featured an assortment of dark chocolates made with cacao harvested from various areas of Neopia. “I hear Kiko Lake cacao beans are the best,” Terra said, taking one of the bite-size bricks.
“They’re good for all-around richness,” a Mutant Usul gentleman across the table said with a nod, “but if you’re looking for more of an earthy taste, do try the Lost Desert chocolate.”
“Oh—okay,” Terra said, reaching for one of those.
The Usul stroked his black neck ruff self-importantly. “And don’t miss out on the Mystery Island chocolate—the abundance of plant life on the island infuses the cacao with a unique floral note.”
Terra grabbed a Mystery Island chocolate. “Neat.”
Isengrim, who had removed his helm again, furrowed his brow in confusion as he picked up a handful of truffles and stuffed them in his maw. “Do you go to school for this?”
“No, some are just blessed with a refined palate,” the Usul said, closing his three eyes as he folded his paws behind his back.
Terra, meanwhile, was taking careful nibbles of each chocolate in turn. “Hm… yeah… I can kinda taste the difference.”
Isengrim leaned over and stuck his nose up to the assortment. “And I can smell the difference.” He glanced down at the Usul and grinned roguishly. “How is that for a ‘refined palate’? I do not even have to taste them.”
The Mutant frowned and straightened his waistcoat. Purple tail flicking in agitation at being one-upped, he cleared his throat as though he wanted to say something, but ultimately walked away and began lecturing a nearby Wocky on how different preparation lengths resulted in different chocolate textures.
The Werelupe King chuckled. “I will never understand pets like him.”
“Like you don’t do the same thing with combat,” Terra replied, nudging his ribs with a teasing smile.
Isengrim snickered. “Let’s change the subject.” He looked down at her dress. “You have such a nice gown, I am worried about getting chocolate stains on it.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Terra said. “The high-class Neopia Central hotels have laundry facilities staffed by water mages. They can get out any stain.”
“Mm, that is fortuitous.” Isengrim reached for a chocolate-dipped Doughnutfruit. “It is too bad my ambassador is a fire mage. She would be less than useful for such a thing.”
Terra laughed. “At least she’s great for pyrotechnics shows.”
Isengrim turned the fruit over in his paw, inspecting it. “Do you ever think they will discover a Doughnutfruit Chia…?”
“Augh.” Terra grinned in mock exasperation and leaned her arm against his back, into his fur cape. She rested her forehead on it. “You’re incorrigible.”
The Werelupe King smiled as he snapped up the Doughnutfruit. “I know.”
“Oh, do pardon me,” said a Grey Zafara as she reached for the stacks of chocolate.
Terra drew in a breath and pushed off of Isengrim. “Oh, man. I totally forgot.”
“Mm?” said Isengrim through a mouthful of chocolate and Doughnutfruit.
The owner watched the Zafara nibble daintily at the confectionery. “Blynn wanted me to bring home some chocolate for her. But we can’t take any of this out of the factory.”
Isengrim put a paw on her shoulder. “We will get her some chocolate. Legitimately,” he added upon seeing the sceptical look on Terra’s face. He smiled. “Please do not worry, just enjoy tonight. I will take care of it.”
Terra nodded. “Thanks.”
The musicians suddenly struck up a lively waltz and the dynamic of the room changed. Neopets began flocking to the dance floor and twirling around like a field of multicoloured pinwheels.
Isengrim lifted his head and observed them for a moment, his ears high and alert. Slowly his tail began to wag. “Can we try dancing, please?”
“What?” Terra looked up at him and then over at the dancers. “Really? I mean—do you know how? Because I don’t.”
“Celice gave me a few lessons when I told her I was attending the Ball.” Isengrim put his helmet back on and held out a paw to his owner. “It looks like fun. Please?”
Terra swallowed her last bite of chocolate. “Well…” With a nervous smile, she put her hand in his. “Okay, let’s give it a shot.”
Isengrim gave her hand a squeeze. “It will be fun, I promise.”
He led her over to the open floor space, where the other dancers gave them a wide berth. They seemed less than willing to step so close to someone wearing armour covered in horns and fangs. Terra looked around at them and then turned back to her escort. “Um, yeeeaahhh… I have no idea what I’m doing,” she muttered in embarrassment.
“One hand goes here,” Isengrim explained gently, placing her hand on one of his pauldrons. “And we hold the other out like this.” He clasped her other hand and stretched their arms to the side. Leaning down, he whispered, “Do not be nervous. I am a beginner at this as well.” Beneath the muzzle of his skull-helm, he grinned, showing a bit of fang. “And if anyone has anything to say about it, they will have to answer to me.”
Terra laughed. “I’m sure no one is that stupid.” She looked around Isengrim at the dancing pair behind him. “So uh… now what?”
“Now, we… er… move in circles. I think.” The Werelupe King began to lead her in a slow, swaying pivot.
Terra took a moment to get used to the footwork. “Hm… I think we’re supposed to be moving to the rhythm of the music.”
Isengrim glanced up at the musicians. “Oh. Right.” The two adjusted accordingly.
“This isn’t too bad at all,” Terra said as they began to ease into it. “When you read about it in books, it always seems so much more complicated—“ Isengrim suddenly let out a small yelp and Terra jumped. “Did I just step on your foot?”
“Yes.” Isengrim chuckled. “It’s okay.”
His owner blushed. “Sorry…”
“I assure you, it was not the worst wound I have ever received,” Isengrim said. “Keep going, you are doing great.”
Although they weren’t exactly graceful compared to the more seasoned dancers, gradually the two became more and more confident, and caught up in the sweeping melodies of the music. “Should we try swinging out from each other?” Isengrim asked. “That seems like fun.”
Terra grinned. “Okay!”
On the next upbeat, as the waltz reached its finale, the Werelupe and his owner let go of each other and swung their free hands outward.
“Gah!” A green Lenny stumbled back from beside Isengrim, clutching his beak. “Watch where you swing those paws, you—you ignorant oaf!”
The Werelupe King suddenly bristled and snarled, turning to loom over the unfortunate Neopet. “And you had best watch your tongue, you—“
“Okay!” Terra pulled him back. “This is the part where you apologize and just brush it off.”
Isengrim’s ears turned down and he snorted. He seemed to war within himself for a moment before turning back to the Lenny, who was complaining loudly to his plump Ghost Draik companion. “My apologies… sir,” the Werelupe said, trying to keep a civil tone through gritted teeth.
The Lenny and Draik looked him up and down. “Yes, well,” the offended Neopet finally sniffed. “It’s nice to see you’ve got some manners in you.”
When Isengrim turned back to Terra, his ears were still down and his tail limp. “Maybe this was a bad idea,” he said under his breath.
“Nope.” Terra took his paw. “This was an awesome idea, and we’re going to have fun, and you’re not going to let other people’s poor decisions control you.” She looked into his eyes. “Okay?”
Past the empty eye sockets of his helm, his own crimson eyes searched her face for a moment. Then he broke into a grin and patted her back. “Okay. Thank you, Terra.”
She nodded as they started to get back into dancing. “That’s what owners are for.”
“Aye, small though they be,” he mused.
They danced through the next two pieces of music and enjoyed every bit of it, although they were a little more conscientious of the space around them from that point on. Thankfully, they had no further mishaps, and everyone else let them alone.
When they decided they needed a breather, they retreated to the courtyard outside. It was a surprisingly well-kept little area, neatly-trimmed gardens surrounding a semicircle of benches and the ubiquitous chocolate fountain.
“I’m surprised the Kiko chocolatier has all of this here at his factory,” Terra said as she and Isengrim ambled leisurely along the hedgerows. “It really doesn’t look it from the outside.”
“Yes, well, appearances can be deceiving,” Isengrim said with a chuckle. “I ought to know.”
Terra smiled. “I wonder if that fountain is always full of chocolate, or if he just replaces the water with chocolate for the Ball. I can’t imagine him using these areas any other time of the year.”
“Perhaps he enjoys sculpting the shrubbery.” Isengrim pointed a claw to a bush that appeared to have been trimmed in the shape of a chocolate bar.
His owner laughed, sitting down on a nearby bench. “Somehow this doesn’t surprise me.” As Isengrim came to sit beside her, she folded her hands in her lap. “This was really fun. Thank you so much for inviting me. If you need someone to go with you next year, I’ll definitely keep my schedule free.”
Isengrim took off his helmet and set it down beside him. “I would like that very much. I do not think Suhel would have been able to withstand the allure of the Chias, either.” Terra giggled.
They spent a few moments sitting in silence, watching other attendees moving in and out of the courtyard. Finally Isengrim reached over and patted Terra’s head. “You are so small,” he said again softly, seeming bemused.
Terra started out of her own thoughts to look up at him. “Why do you keep saying that?”
“Because you are my superior,” Isengrim said with a tilt of his head. “I should not have to look down on you.”
His owner leaned in and hugged him. “You’re not my inferior just because I’m your owner. We’re equals. We’re friends.”
Isengrim put an arm around her shoulders. “I think I like that best.”
***
The rest of the ball went without a hitch. Terra and Isengrim danced a little more and then mingled with some of the more prominent guests, catching up on news from various Neopian lands. And Illusen stayed well away from her new favourite Werelupe—“favourite” being a relative term. Once they had done everything they felt like doing, the Werelupe King and his owner headed back to the hotel, exhausted but satisfied. This venture had been a success in several ways.
They ended up staying in Neopia Central for a week after the Chocolate Ball, as the travel time to their homes was so long that Terra and Isengrim wanted to take full advantage of their miniature vacation. The two explored what felt like every interesting nook and cranny of the bustling metropolis, from the sprawling museums of the Deep Catacombs to the eclectic shops and cosy hole-in-the-wall restaurants of the Marketplace.
Isengrim even took the opportunity to arrange some ambiguous dealings down at the docks with a raspy-voiced green Skeith who turned out to be Malkus Vile, the infamous crime lord. While he couldn’t disclose the details to Terra, Isengrim promised it wasn’t anything bad and she was in no danger—Vile was just one of the Werelupe King’s oldest associates and his main contact in Neopia Central. It was the Skeith and his network who supplied the Werelupe Burrows with imports from the metropolis.
The day before they left for their respective homes, Isengrim took Terra back to the Chocolate Factory – to the shop portion this time – so Terra could show him all of Blynn’s favourite candies. They bought nothing, but Isengrim assured his owner that Blynn would get her chocolate.
And so Terra burst through her front door with nothing but her luggage. “I’m home!” she shouted, letting her voice echo off of the marble and tile in the foyer.
“Terra!” Blynn scampered out of the kitchen, scrambled toward her owner, and leaped at the girl. “Welcome home!”
Catching the Zafara in her arms, Terra staggered back from the force of the impact. “Thanks!”
“How did it go?” Blynn placed her paws on Terra’s shoulders and pulled back to look at her, tail swishing excitedly. “Did you have fun like you promised?”
“You bet I did!” Terra replied as she carried Blynn toward the north wing of their villa. “How was your Chocolate Hlab?” she asked, using the Zafara’s pronunciation.
Blynn threw up her paws. “Oh man, it was amazing! We decorated the great hall and invited a ton of people – Sasha the Dancer even showed up – and I booked a Sticks N’ Stones tribute band!” She stuck out her tongue. “Because you don’t even wanna know how much the real Sticks N’ Stones charges for gigs.”
Terra rolled her eyes in mock disgust. “Like a bajillion Neopoints?”
“Close, two bajillion.” Blynn sat up in her owner’s arms. “Oh! And Pharazon tried to use some magic to help with the decorations—and he ended up accidentally making chocolate gush out of Hyren’s antennae!”
“Let us never speak of this again.” The blue Grundo in question came walking down the hall to meet them, clutching his antennae like they were garden hoses. “Thankfully one of the guests knew enough magic to cast a counter-spell. But my mouth has tasted like chocolate for the past week.”
Blynn turned around and gave him a curious look. “And… that’s a bad thing, why?”
“I said I was sorry!” Pharazon fluttered down the hall on his delicate Faerie Draik wings. “I was just trying to help!”
“You did help!” Blynn insisted. “It was hilarious!”
Terra grinned. “Sounds like it. You guys should do this every year. Pharazon, I’m sure next year, you’ll be practiced enough to find even cooler ways to pick on your brother,” she said with a wink.
The Draik grimaced. “I wasn’t trying to—“
“Sure, sure,” Hyren said, but all the same he patted his younger brother’s shoulder comfortingly. “No harm, no foul. But this chocolate taste had better wear off.”
Pharazon fingered the Lupe Moon Charm around his neck. “I’ll ask Celice if there’s anything I can do about that.”
Blynn watched them in amusement and then turned back to their owner. “Speaking of that, where’s my chocolate?”
“Umm… yes… that…” Terra scratched the back of her neck. “See, uh, the Kiko chocolatier said—“ Before she could finish her sentence, the bell at the front door jangled merrily.
The four gave each other confused looks. “Were you expecting anyone?” Hyren asked.
Terra shook her head. “No, were any of you?”
“Nope…” Blynn jumped out of Terra’s arms and scurried back down the hallway. “But I do love a good surprise!”
“Yeah, I don’t,” Hyren muttered as he jogged after her, his brother and owner in tow.
They got to the foyer in time to see Blynn open the door and stick her head outside. “Weird,” she said, “there’s nobody—hoooooooly Kau.”
The other three ran to the door to see Blynn staring out at three large carts parked in front of their villa, each fully loaded with crates bearing the Chocolate Factory’s stamp. The Zafara’s eyes were as wide as Kreludor as she stumbled over to the wagons as if in a trance. “Is… is this what I think it is?” she whispered reverently. Closing her eyes, she sniffed the air and licked her lips. “’Cause it sure smells like it is!”
“Uhm… surprise!” Terra said, looking rather surprised herself.
“Where are we going to keep all of this?” Hyren asked. “We definitely don’t have room in the pantry.”
Blynn jumped onto one of the wagons, standing atop the crates like a mighty ruler of chocolatedom. “Well, we’ll just have to use the great hall as a chocolate storage room! It might as well see some use the rest of the year, right?”
As the Zafara pried the lid off of one of the crates and wriggled inside, Terra took notice of a nondescript envelope leaning against the side. She opened it and unfolded the letter within. After a cursory glance, she smiled.
“Who’s it from?” Pharazon asked.
“’To my family,’” Terra read. “’Worry not, for your year’s supply of chocolate was legally acquired, I assure you.’”
“Thank goodness for that,” Hyren groaned, running a hand down his face.
“’May we meet again soon, and may the fates smile upon you, as they have upon me for granting me such a wonderful family. All of my love, Isengrim.’” Terra looked up and leaned against the cart. “He does spoil us.”
Blynn popped back out of the crate, nibbling on an Orange Chocolate Nova. “That was sure nice of him. He miscalculated, though.”
Terra glanced up at her. “Oh?”
“This chocolate should only last me a month, at most.”
With a snort, Terra reached up and gently shoved her Zafara back into the crate.
“This is an outrage!” Blynn679 backhanded the front page of the Neopian Times. The Disco Zafara’s magenta tail lashed behind her in frustration as she paced around the library of her family’s Altador villa.
Her Faerie Draik brother edged over her shoulder to look at the headlines. “What’s an outrage?” ArPharazonTheGolden asked.
“This!” Blynn pointed to the largest text on the page: PREPARATIONS FOR ANNUAL CHOCOLATE BALL UNDERWAY. Beneath it was an illustration of the Chocolate Factory shopkeeper overseeing the decoration of an enormous dancing hall.
Pharazon’s brows pinched together in confusion. “Yes, that’s… that’s terrible, Blynn. My condolences. I think.”
“Social injustice, that’s what it is!” Blynn shrieked.
“Clearly,” Dark_breed_Hyren said flatly as he looked up from his mug of borovan. The blue Grundo gestured to the paper from his reclined position on the couch. “Can I have that back now?”
Blynn pouted. “Only if you complain about the unfairness of it all!”
“Um,” said their owner Terra, who was leaning against the table with one hand in her trousers pocket.
Pharazon scratched his head. “I don’t get it—I thought you liked chocolate.”
“Yes, that’s the problem!” Blynn said. “I love chocolate! And this stupid ball is invitation-only! Access is restricted to only the very elite of Neopian society! All of the bigwigs, the celebrities, the political leaders—Fyora herself even makes an appearance!” She smushed her nose against Pharazon’s snout. “Fee-oh-rah!”
Hyren shrugged. “And…? It’s just a glorified sneak peek of the Chocolate Factory’s upcoming products. If you wait a few months, you can buy the stuff anyway, without all of the pomp.”
“Um,” Terra said again, fingering whatever was in her pocket. With her other hand she reached up and tugged on her brown braid nervously.
“The point is,” Blynn fumed, “he’s holding out on us—in order to appease the upper crust! They’re just a bunch of hobnobbing snobs!”
“Wearing fobs?” Pharazon offered.
Blynn nodded gravely. “I bet they’re all slobs.” She scanned the room with narrow eyes, and then her ears perked. “A-ha! That’s it!” She steepled her fingers. “I have an idea… a wonderful idea…”
“That hopefully doesn’t involve Donkasaurs again,” Hyren muttered, taking a sip of his borovan.
The Zafara shook a paw at him. “No, no. I admit that one wasn’t well-thought-out.”
Terra shifted her weight. “Uh, guys—“
Blynn clapped her paws together. “We’ll have a Chocolate Llab!”
Pharazon quirked an eyebrow. “… ‘Llab’?”
“It’s ‘Ball’ backwards. Because we’re backwards sorts of people.” Blynn said, turning a cartwheel across the floor to demonstrate. “Except, let’s pronounce it ‘hlab’.”
“Wouldn’t just ‘lab’ make more sense?” Pharazon asked. “It’s just two L’s.”
“But ‘hlab’ is so much cooler and more unexpected!” Blynn began pacing around the room. “We can hold it in the great hall in the north wing! I’ve been looking for an excuse to use it!”
Hyren picked up the discarded newspaper and began leafing through it, looking for the page he had left off on. “Why did we even include that in the floor plan, anyway? We’re not lavish party-throwers.”
“Traditional Altadorian villas include a large hall for entertaining,” Pharazon explained. “And, after all, it’s better to build a room just in case you’ll need it, than have the house built and then discover you’re in need of another room.”
The Grundo grunted his agreement. “Point taken.”
“This’ll be great!” Blynn cried. “We’ll have music – Sticks N’ Stones, of course – and games, and loads and loads of chocolate! And the best part is, it’ll be utterly unpretentious!” She turned to their owner. “Oh, can we, Terra, can we?”
The girl gave her Zafara a nervous smile. “Of course, that sounds like an awesome idea. But, um…” With an embarrassed sigh, she drew a folded piece of parchment out of her pocket. “I don’t think I’ll be able to attend.”
Blynn’s jaw dropped, and her brothers’ eyes widened. “Is… that what I think it is?” Blynn asked.
“You got an invitation to the Chocolate Ball?” Hyren looked up from the paper in confusion. “Granted we’re well-off, but last time I checked, you weren’t a celebrity. Our family saving Brightvale last year notwithstanding.”
“Well, uh…” Terra unfolded the parchment and turned it around to show her Neopets a neatly written letter, signed with a large, anthropomorphic paw print. “I didn’t get an invitation. Isengrim did.”
“Isengrim?!” her three pets shouted in unison.
Terra blushed self-consciously. “Well, he is the Werelupe King. He’s kind of important.” She looked back to the paper. “I guess when you’re invited to the Chocolate Ball, you can bring one guest, but Suhel didn’t want to go.”
“But she’s Isengrim’s second-in-command,” Pharazon said.
Terra nodded. “Yeah, but apparently she doesn’t care much for these kinds of social events, and she doesn’t have a sweet tooth. And since I’m Isengrim’s owner, he thought of me next.”
Blynn kicked at the floor. “Aww, man. C’mon, Terra, you don’t really wanna go to that stuffy old thing, do you?”
“Actually…” Terra scratched the back of her head. “I think it might be kind of fun. I at least want to say I went when I had the opportunity, I guess. Besides, I don’t want Isengrim to have to go by himself.”
Hyren snorted. “Yeah, someone needs to be on damage control.”
“Okay, so he’s not exactly the poster child for social graces,” Terra admitted, leaning back against the table. She smirked. “Look, I’ll bring you guys back all the chocolate I can, how’s that?”
Blynn narrowed her eyes. “You drive a hard bargain, Terra.” She rubbed at her furry chin and then clambered onto the table so she was closer to the human’s eye level. Drawing herself up imperiously, she announced, “Okay. I’ll allow you to go, but on one condition.” She stretched her hind legs and put her paws on Terra’s shoulders, sticking her nose close to her owner’s. “You gotta have as much fun as you possibly can!”
The two laughed and Terra picked Blynn up under the arms, swinging her around before collapsing on the couch next to Hyren and hugging her tight. “You’ve got a deal!”
***
The Chocolate Ball was a week later. After making the necessary preparations, Terra took a Shenkuuvian sky-ship to the Werelupe Woods and picked up Isengrim, and then the two sped off to Neopia Central.
They had booked rooms at the Royal Neopian, and spent the day of the ball just relaxing on the premises and enjoying each other’s company. They explored the extensive hotel, pretended like they were good at tennis – Isengrim ended up inadvertently breaking three rackets – and had lunch at the hotel’s restaurant, where Isengrim ripped into steak and ribs and Terra enjoyed her salad and pizza.
As the sun dipped below the horizon and the bustling metropolis of Neopia Central became aglow with innumerable Faerie-magic lights, Terra and her Werelupe retired to their rooms to get ready for their public appearance.
Terra was in the bathroom, trying to figure out her hair, when there came a knock at her door. She opened it and her eyes widened at the sight before her: a massive Werelupe clad in armour fashioned from bones. The skull of some beast with long fangs and twisting horns adorned his head, and his crimson eyes gleamed down at her from within the skull’s empty eye sockets. A long crest of scarlet hair was attached to the back of the skull, and a thick cape of fur draped down from the Werelupe’s shoulders to complete the unconventional ensemble.
“Isengrim…” Terra chuckled and leaned against the doorframe, putting a hand on her chest. “You’re wearing your battle armour to the Chocolate Ball?”
The Werelupe King nodded, his helmet’s crest swaying behind him. “I asked Celice for some pointers before I left the Woods. She informed me that it is customary for military leaders to wear their war regalia at formal gatherings of this degree.” His tail lifted. “Also, I think it looks… ‘cool’, as you would put it.”
Terra laughed. “I think it looks cool, too, but… I’m worried it might send the wrong message at a social event.”
Isengrim grinned saccharinely. “You are right. I shall attend in naught but my skin breeches.”
For an awkwardly silent moment, Terra just stared at him in disbelief.
“That was sarcasm,” he prompted.
Terra smiled in exasperation and buried her face in her hand. “Oh, good, you scared me for a second there. Armour it is, then.”
“And you look stunning as well,” Isengrim said, leaning down to sniff at her gown. It was a long-sleeved, high-necked piece fashioned after traditional Brightvalian styles, decorated with intricate patterns of swirling silver.
The human blushed at the compliment. “Thanks. I’ve never worn anything this fancy before. I felt weird just buying it.”
Isengrim used a claw to tilt up her chin. “You wear it well. Hold your head high, you are beautiful.”
Terra smiled. “You’re sweet.” Leaning in, she gave him a hug and he returned it. “Look!” She held up her wrist—on it dangled a bracelet of fangs.
The Werelupe’s tail wagged and his ears lowered as a grin cracked his muzzle. “Ah, you remembered!”
“Mm-hm!” Terra fingered the fangs. “I am a member of your pack, after all. This is a badge of honour, and I’m proud to be your owner.”
“The honour is mine, I assure you,” Isengrim replied, patting her head. His claws moved to finger a strand of her hair, loose from its usual braid. “And your hair is lovely as well!”
Terra chuckled. “Oh, that. Actually, I was just trying to put it up, but… I have no idea how to do that.”
Isengrim tilted his head. “Up?”
“Mm-hm.” Terra gathered her hair into a clump at the back of her skull. “I was thinking just a simple bun like the one Celice keeps her hair, in, but…” Her tongue stuck out in concentration. “It’s hard when you can’t see the back of your head!”
The Werelupe King laughed. “Perhaps I can help,” he said, poking his snout over her shoulder to see what she was trying to do. “I am familiar with how my ambassador wears her hair, after all.”
“Good idea!” Terra grabbed his wrist and led him to the bathroom, in front of the mirror. “And you can see the back of my head a lot better than I can.”
Isengrim set his helmet on the counter and carefully gathered Terra’s hair into a twist. “All right… I will admit, Celice makes this look easy,” he grunted as he turned the human’s hair this way and that, as though he was trying to magically make it assume bun form.
“Oh, crumbs…” Terra bit her lip as she examined her mirror image. “I think you need pins or something. I totally forgot those. I don’t think my hair tie will help…”
The Werelupe thought for a moment, and then his ears perked. “I’ve got it.” Reaching down, he plucked a long, thin bone from his armour. One end was sharpened into a point, and he deftly curled Terra’s hair over itself and up before securing it with the bone. “Problem solved,” he said with a grin, stepping back to let her admire his handiwork.
Terra turned her head back and forth, trying to see as much of her new hairdo as possible as a smile crept up her face. “It looks wonderful! Thank you so much, Isengrim!”
“Werelupes are great craftspets, after all,” he replied with a smirk. He patted one of his bone pauldrons. “I did not exactly order this armour from a catalogue.”
“Perfect.” Terra looked herself over one last time and then turned to her Werelupe. “I’m sorry… I didn’t make us late, did I?”
Isengrim shook his head. “Werelupes always arrive precisely when they want to.” He put his helmet back on and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
“Indeed!” Terra took his arm, and off they strolled to the Chocolate Ball.
Dusk had overlaid the sky in a velvety purple by the time they left the hotel. Lampposts cast circles of warm Faerie-light in a regular pattern on the sidewalk, and Uni-drawn carriages bustled up and down the busy streets, their wheels making a racket on the cobblestone.
The Royal Neopian was only a few blocks from the Chocolate Factory. As Terra and Isengrim neared, they began to see other attendees making their way toward the enormous gates that served as a rarely-opened portal between the rest of Neopia and the sanctum where the Kiko chocolatier created his masterpieces. Some guests were on foot, while others were being dropped off by Uni carriages or Eyrie cabs. A few had ridden or flown in on Petpet mounts, or using the power of their own wings. There were even a few Faeries scattered among the Neopets.
One thing they had in common was that they were elegantly dressed and looked every part of high Neopian society. Terra watched them as the elaborately-wrought factory gates loomed high over even Isengrim’s head, and found herself clutching his arm tighter.
He ducked his snout to her head. “Do not be afraid, Terra. Just have fun.”
She smiled up at him. “Right.” After all, celebrities or no, they were people just like her, and she had every right to be here and enjoy herself.
The courtyard had been decorated with strings of lights that curved gracefully from the factory’s roof to the high surrounding wall. Fountains of chocolate - milk, dark, and white - burbled serenely in the wide space leading to the doors.
As Terra and Isengrim crossed the courtyard, murmurs and gasps spread through the other guests. Neopets they passed gave them strange looks, and Isengrim merely grinned in reply, his ears perked and forward and his tail held high.
“They must like your dress,” he said as he led his owner to the stairs.
Terra looked around at the unsure expressions on the attendees’ faces. “Er… I’m pretty sure they’re unnerved by your armour, actually.”
“Well, that is acceptable too.” He suddenly stopped cold and his tail drooped between his legs.
“What’s wrong?” Terra asked.
He whispered, “Illusen.” Subtly, he nodded his snout to where the Earth Faerie was alighting in the courtyard. The Werelupe let out a hiss. “No one told me she would be here.”
“Don’t let that ruin your evening,” Terra said, patting his arm. “It’s only awkward if you make it awkward.”
“My pack tried to overrun her glade and she repulsed us—twice,” Isengrim recalled, ducking his head. “That is not awkward, that is… a nemesis.”
Terra sighed. “Yes, and you’re on peaceful terms with Meridell now, so you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.”
“I still dislike Faeries,” Isengrim grumbled as they continued on their way. “Let’s just try to stay away from her.”
The Kiko chocolatier floated at the tall doors to the factory, beckoning his guests with one hand while clutching his cane with the other. His top hat and suit looked especially crisp as he welcomed each attendee by name, shaking their hand and thanking them for coming.
“King Isengrim!” he said as he reached up to grasp the Werelupe’s paw, seeming completely unfazed by this particular guest’s unconventional appearance. “Welcome, my good sir, welcome to the Chocolate Ball!”
Isengrim shook his hand firmly. “Lord Isengrim. It sounds better.” He gestured to the human at his arm. “And this is my owner, Terra.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Terra said with a curtsy. “Thanks so much for putting on this ball. It looks amazing so far!”
The Kiko chuckled. “You’ve not seen the half of it yet, my dear! Just wait until you get to the ballroom!” He ushered them forward. “Just follow the brown carpet, and enjoy the factory tour!”
The long carpet under their feet led directly into the heart of the factory. It took Terra and Isengrim on a winding journey of what must have been only a small part of the enormous chocolate works. They passed by mysterious machinery, currently in a powered-down state; displays showing the history of Kiko confectionery and the history of the Chocolate Factory; and, behind glass cases, samples of the fanciful new products that the chocolatier had been hard at work creating. It was here that most of the guests had stalled, as they analyzed each piece and exchanged critique.
“There will be a tasting later,” the Kiko chocolatier explained, floating up from behind the human and her Werelupe. “The Neopets you see here are chocolate connoisseurs with impeccable taste. Everything I sell in my shop has been run by them first.”
Terra nodded. “Do we get to try, too?”
“Of course!” The Kiko bobbed closer to her. “But I must charge you with the strictest secrecy. Confectionery is a fiercely competitive business, and all of my recipes are proprietary. I must ask that you divulge no detail of these unreleased products—and do not try to take any of them outside the factory gates.”
“I won’t, sir,” Terra said, shaking her head fervently. “I promise.”
Isengrim suddenly bared his fangs and snarled at the chocolatier. “My owner is no traitor!”
Terra put a hand on his chestplate and pushed him back. “Don’t snarl at the host, sweetie, it’s unbecoming. I’m sure he gives that speech to everybody.” Isengrim nodded sullenly in reply.
The Kiko seemed not to have noticed the Werelupe’s sudden display of aggression. Instead he beamed up at the two and doffed his hat. “That being said, do enjoy your evening!” He gestured again down the carpet. Through the almost oppressive gloom of the titanic, silent factory, the sweet strains of a waltz had begun to drift.
“I can’t decide whether this place is cool or creepy,” Terra said as they made their way down the long hall that led to another tall set of doors. “Probably both. And that’s probably just the way the owner likes it.”
Isengrim chuckled. “He does seem a touch… mad. Then again, I am one to speak.”
Walking through the doors was like stepping into a different world. The ballroom was immense, easily larger than King Skarl’s throne room. The floor space was more than ample enough to hold a band of classical musicians in tuxedoes and gowns, a buffet consisting of a light dinner and a vast array of chocolate confections, and several more chocolate fountains besides. And there was still plenty of room for the dancers who elegantly glided across the marble flooring.
“Wow…” Terra breathed, craning her neck to try to take it all in, from the massive crystal chandeliers to the tall windows that looked out on a lush garden. “This is incredible…”
Isengrim removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm. “It certainly—“ His ears perked and he snapped to the attention of a Chocolate Chia who waddled obliviously past them. “Yes, everything looks… delicious.” His crimson eyes were riveted on the Chia as the Werelupe sniffed the air and a toothy grin rose up his muzzle.
“Isengrim, calm down.” Terra pulled him away from following the sentient morsel. “You can’t do this every time you see a Chia.”
The Werelupe King spread his forepaws. “It’s their fault for looking so delicious!” He pointed to where a group of fruit-coloured Chias were cavorting in a chocolate fountain. “It’s like they want to be eaten! How can any Werelupe resist that?!”
“Because he’s a Werelupe who practises self-control,” Terra insisted firmly. “Let’s go get dinner.”
They shuffled into place at the buffet line, where Isengrim gave disappointed and disapproving looks at the dainty sandwiches and delicate hors d’oeuvres. “I wish there was more meat,” he muttered under his breath. “And more… in general.”
“I sympathize with your plight too well, my lord!” a deep voice guffawed from across the table. King Skarl stood there, indiscriminately shoveling food onto his plate, much to the chagrin of the guests next to him. “I understand that the chocolate is supposed to be the main attraction… but what I wouldn’t give for some good gammon instead of this Snowbunny feed!”
Isengrim and Terra looked at him for a moment and then laughed. “Well,” Isengrim said with a grin, “we shall have to make up for it with one of your legendary banquets when we return home!”
“Indeed we shall!” The Skeith’s wings fluttered in delight at the idea. “Then, we shall truly sup like the kings we are—“ His ears lifted as he looked past the Werelupe and owner. “Ah, Illusen!” he shouted. “So good of you to come, milady!”
Isengrim’s fur flattened and he set down his plate to jam his helmet back on his head. “Maybe she won’t recognize me,” he whimpered.
Terra gave him a skeptical look. “Isengrim, sweetie, you’re the only Werelupe here. Also you’re a head taller than everyone but Lord Darigan.” She gestured to where the Citadel’s ruler was chatting with Sir Jeran, Lady Lisha, and an orange-haired Usul girl.
Skarl, meanwhile, seemed oblivious to his fellow king’s distress. “Illusen, come try some of this food, why don’t you! Of a truth, it’s more your style than mine!”
Isengrim grabbed his owner’s hand and turned to run. “Terra, let’s—“ His ears flattened at the sight of Illusen heading straight for them. Letting out a whimper, he ducked behind his owner as though she could block his massive frame. “Hide me.”
This left Terra to smile nervously as Illusen made her way to the table and picked up a plate. “Oh, this does look quite good,” the freckled Faerie told Skarl with a smile. “Although, the nice thing about being a Faerie is that you can eat all the chocolate you like and it does nothing for your figure.”
Skarl patted his considerable paunch. “Aye, and I eat all the chocolate I like and don’t care about my figure!”
The two shared a laugh, and then Illusen casually turned toward Terra and her cowering Werelupe. The Faerie’s deep green eyes narrowed and her smile froze. “Hello, Isengrim.”
Part 2
The Werelupe King peeked his snout over Terra’s shoulder. “Lady Illusen…” he grumbled. “I was not expecting to see you here.”
“The sentiment is mutual,” the Faerie said, folding her arms and tilting her head, looking down at him like a disapproving parent.
A low growl rose from Isengrim’s throat as he stood up. Illusen was taller and longer-limbed than any normal human, but the Werelupe still easily won in the height and bulk division. “Well, then,” he said, ears still low, “we can both go our separate ways and not trouble each other any longer.”
“Tell me,” Illusen said, drumming her fingers on her arms, “are you planning on stealing the chocolatier’s recipes? You’re quite good at taking things that don’t belong to you.”
Isengrim bared his fangs and snapped at her. “How dare you insult me?!”
“How dare you decide you own whatever land you infest?!” The Faerie’s wings shivered, throwing off green sparks.
“I do not infest things—I am not a disease!” Isengrim snarled.
Terra wedged herself between them. “You guys!”
Illusen glanced down at the girl. “Who is this?”
“My name’s Terra,” the human said firmly, “and I’m Isengrim’s owner. And I’m sorry if you have previous grievance with him, but he’s changed since he tried to take your glade.”
“I know all about his entanglement with Brightvale last year,” Illusen huffed. “Meridell has accepted his presence and claim to territory as well.” She looked over her shoulder to where Skarl had been, but the Skeith had now moved on to the dessert tables. Her green eyes snapped back to the owner and Werelupe. “But that does not mean I agree with it.”
Isengrim snorted. “My authority does not rely on your consent. Do not stick your wings where they have no influence.”
“And you would be wise,” Illusen said, “not to speak so flippantly to a Faerie.”
Terra sighed. “Guys, please. Let’s just talk this out. You’re making a scene.” She turned to Illusen. “Okay, so you’re still upset at him for trying to take over your glade all those years ago, right?”
The Faerie nodded. “Twice. Clearly, he learns nothing from his mistakes.”
“That is not true!” Isengrim barked.
Terra looked over at him. “Isengrim, you feel like she’s antagonizing you unfairly.”
He nodded. “If she would just have the sense to look past her own nose instead of speculating about politics and talking to trees, she would see that I am running my kingdom quite well!”
“I still don’t trust you!” Illusen said. “You willingly align yourself with the Darkest Faerie, and you expect—“
“Excuse me, Lady Illusen,” said a Kougra woman wearing a large, feathered hat. “You’re holding up the line.” A crowd of irritated and hungry guests had accumulated while the two were having their debate.
Illusen flushed and stepped aside. Isengrim snickered and she glowered at him. “You expect me to simply forgive you after that? I am not so easily swayed as Skarl or Hagan, I’ll have you know!”
“Who said I ever wanted your forgiveness?” Isengrim growled. “I’ve not come groveling to you like a puppy, although I am sure you enjoy putting yourself on a pedestal like that!”
Terra grimaced and hugged the Werelupe’s arm. “I think you two just need to apologise and let bygones be bygones. Don’t let this fester. It clearly isn’t doing either of you any good.” She looked up at him. “Please, just say you’re sorry. She won’t budge on this until you do.”
Isengrim looked down at her and his lips lowered back over his teeth. He stared at her for a long moment and then nodded. As though it pained him, he looked back to the Faerie. “Lady Illusen,” he began haltingly, putting a paw to his chest. “I apologise for the theft of your domain and your property. I was trying to find a home for my pack and secure greater means for ourselves. We shan’t bother you again.”
Illusen regarded him dubiously. “Apology accepted. I—“ She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I forgive you, Lord Isengrim. And I apologise for treating you with such disdain. Your owner is right—this is a happy occasion, we should not ruin it with our ill feelings.”
She puffed out one cheek and glanced around. “Oh—there’s Fyora—I’ve been meaning to talk to her about… soil alkalinity…” Those were her parting words to the two as she grabbed her food plate and swept away.
Terra and Isengrim watched her go. “Well,” Terra said, “I’m glad you got that resolved.”
Isengrim sighed. “I do not feel like I have made much progress.”
“You have.” Terra put a hand on one of his bone bracers. “It’s hard to see when you’re on the inside looking out, but you have. I mean, you actually got Illusen to apologize, and you know how she holds her grudges. As do you.”
The Werelupe’s tail lifted. “Yes, that is true… thank you, Terra.” He patted her head. “You are so small…” he murmured. “Come, let us sup, and then we shall test this chocolate-maker’s mettle.”
As they ate their light dinner, they chatted with Kings Skarl and Hagan, Isengrim’s closest neighboring rulers as the Werelupe Woods was sandwiched between Meridell and Brightvale.
“It’s an honour to finally meet you,” Hagan mentioned as Terra curtseyed to him. “When last you visited my kingdom, you were under a grievous curse. You must return sometime, I’m sure you would enjoy our libraries.”
“Pharazon and Celice have told me wonderful things about the palace and the university,” Terra said. “I would like to be conscious during my next visit to Brightvale, yes.”
Skarl snickered as he practically inhaled his salad. “Aye, and then you’ll have to stop by for that banquet I promised Isengrim! I shall have double the roasts made!”
Terra’s smile grew politely strained. Before she could say anything, Isengrim put an arm around her shoulders. “Terra does not eat meat,” he explained, “but I shall be happy to help you with those roasts, Skarl.”
“Oh?” Skarl looked at the girl like she was a curiosity. “Do you like potatoes, then?”
Terra grinned in relief. “I love potatoes! Eating them, that is. Not so much counting them.”
Skarl placed a paw on his belly and laughed. “Then you’ll fit right in, lass!”
They chatted for a while about the state of their kingdoms and affairs between them. Lord Darigan popped in for a bit, giving Isengrim a chance to get acquainted with the Citadel’s reclusive ruler as well.
When they had eaten their fill – except for Skarl, who never really quite seemed to be full – they went their separate ways, and Terra practically dragged Isengrim to the chocolate buffet. The tables were piled high with all manner of fantastic cacao creations, from artfully decorated bonbons to bars of unusual flavours such as Carnapepper and Olive or Biscuit and Jelly.
One display even featured an assortment of dark chocolates made with cacao harvested from various areas of Neopia. “I hear Kiko Lake cacao beans are the best,” Terra said, taking one of the bite-size bricks.
“They’re good for all-around richness,” a Mutant Usul gentleman across the table said with a nod, “but if you’re looking for more of an earthy taste, do try the Lost Desert chocolate.”
“Oh—okay,” Terra said, reaching for one of those.
The Usul stroked his black neck ruff self-importantly. “And don’t miss out on the Mystery Island chocolate—the abundance of plant life on the island infuses the cacao with a unique floral note.”
Terra grabbed a Mystery Island chocolate. “Neat.”
Isengrim, who had removed his helm again, furrowed his brow in confusion as he picked up a handful of truffles and stuffed them in his maw. “Do you go to school for this?”
“No, some are just blessed with a refined palate,” the Usul said, closing his three eyes as he folded his paws behind his back.
Terra, meanwhile, was taking careful nibbles of each chocolate in turn. “Hm… yeah… I can kinda taste the difference.”
Isengrim leaned over and stuck his nose up to the assortment. “And I can smell the difference.” He glanced down at the Usul and grinned roguishly. “How is that for a ‘refined palate’? I do not even have to taste them.”
The Mutant frowned and straightened his waistcoat. Purple tail flicking in agitation at being one-upped, he cleared his throat as though he wanted to say something, but ultimately walked away and began lecturing a nearby Wocky on how different preparation lengths resulted in different chocolate textures.
The Werelupe King chuckled. “I will never understand pets like him.”
“Like you don’t do the same thing with combat,” Terra replied, nudging his ribs with a teasing smile.
Isengrim snickered. “Let’s change the subject.” He looked down at her dress. “You have such a nice gown, I am worried about getting chocolate stains on it.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Terra said. “The high-class Neopia Central hotels have laundry facilities staffed by water mages. They can get out any stain.”
“Mm, that is fortuitous.” Isengrim reached for a chocolate-dipped Doughnutfruit. “It is too bad my ambassador is a fire mage. She would be less than useful for such a thing.”
Terra laughed. “At least she’s great for pyrotechnics shows.”
Isengrim turned the fruit over in his paw, inspecting it. “Do you ever think they will discover a Doughnutfruit Chia…?”
“Augh.” Terra grinned in mock exasperation and leaned her arm against his back, into his fur cape. She rested her forehead on it. “You’re incorrigible.”
The Werelupe King smiled as he snapped up the Doughnutfruit. “I know.”
“Oh, do pardon me,” said a Grey Zafara as she reached for the stacks of chocolate.
Terra drew in a breath and pushed off of Isengrim. “Oh, man. I totally forgot.”
“Mm?” said Isengrim through a mouthful of chocolate and Doughnutfruit.
The owner watched the Zafara nibble daintily at the confectionery. “Blynn wanted me to bring home some chocolate for her. But we can’t take any of this out of the factory.”
Isengrim put a paw on her shoulder. “We will get her some chocolate. Legitimately,” he added upon seeing the sceptical look on Terra’s face. He smiled. “Please do not worry, just enjoy tonight. I will take care of it.”
Terra nodded. “Thanks.”
The musicians suddenly struck up a lively waltz and the dynamic of the room changed. Neopets began flocking to the dance floor and twirling around like a field of multicoloured pinwheels.
Isengrim lifted his head and observed them for a moment, his ears high and alert. Slowly his tail began to wag. “Can we try dancing, please?”
“What?” Terra looked up at him and then over at the dancers. “Really? I mean—do you know how? Because I don’t.”
“Celice gave me a few lessons when I told her I was attending the Ball.” Isengrim put his helmet back on and held out a paw to his owner. “It looks like fun. Please?”
Terra swallowed her last bite of chocolate. “Well…” With a nervous smile, she put her hand in his. “Okay, let’s give it a shot.”
Isengrim gave her hand a squeeze. “It will be fun, I promise.”
He led her over to the open floor space, where the other dancers gave them a wide berth. They seemed less than willing to step so close to someone wearing armour covered in horns and fangs. Terra looked around at them and then turned back to her escort. “Um, yeeeaahhh… I have no idea what I’m doing,” she muttered in embarrassment.
“One hand goes here,” Isengrim explained gently, placing her hand on one of his pauldrons. “And we hold the other out like this.” He clasped her other hand and stretched their arms to the side. Leaning down, he whispered, “Do not be nervous. I am a beginner at this as well.” Beneath the muzzle of his skull-helm, he grinned, showing a bit of fang. “And if anyone has anything to say about it, they will have to answer to me.”
Terra laughed. “I’m sure no one is that stupid.” She looked around Isengrim at the dancing pair behind him. “So uh… now what?”
“Now, we… er… move in circles. I think.” The Werelupe King began to lead her in a slow, swaying pivot.
Terra took a moment to get used to the footwork. “Hm… I think we’re supposed to be moving to the rhythm of the music.”
Isengrim glanced up at the musicians. “Oh. Right.” The two adjusted accordingly.
“This isn’t too bad at all,” Terra said as they began to ease into it. “When you read about it in books, it always seems so much more complicated—“ Isengrim suddenly let out a small yelp and Terra jumped. “Did I just step on your foot?”
“Yes.” Isengrim chuckled. “It’s okay.”
His owner blushed. “Sorry…”
“I assure you, it was not the worst wound I have ever received,” Isengrim said. “Keep going, you are doing great.”
Although they weren’t exactly graceful compared to the more seasoned dancers, gradually the two became more and more confident, and caught up in the sweeping melodies of the music. “Should we try swinging out from each other?” Isengrim asked. “That seems like fun.”
Terra grinned. “Okay!”
On the next upbeat, as the waltz reached its finale, the Werelupe and his owner let go of each other and swung their free hands outward.
“Gah!” A green Lenny stumbled back from beside Isengrim, clutching his beak. “Watch where you swing those paws, you—you ignorant oaf!”
The Werelupe King suddenly bristled and snarled, turning to loom over the unfortunate Neopet. “And you had best watch your tongue, you—“
“Okay!” Terra pulled him back. “This is the part where you apologize and just brush it off.”
Isengrim’s ears turned down and he snorted. He seemed to war within himself for a moment before turning back to the Lenny, who was complaining loudly to his plump Ghost Draik companion. “My apologies… sir,” the Werelupe said, trying to keep a civil tone through gritted teeth.
The Lenny and Draik looked him up and down. “Yes, well,” the offended Neopet finally sniffed. “It’s nice to see you’ve got some manners in you.”
When Isengrim turned back to Terra, his ears were still down and his tail limp. “Maybe this was a bad idea,” he said under his breath.
“Nope.” Terra took his paw. “This was an awesome idea, and we’re going to have fun, and you’re not going to let other people’s poor decisions control you.” She looked into his eyes. “Okay?”
Past the empty eye sockets of his helm, his own crimson eyes searched her face for a moment. Then he broke into a grin and patted her back. “Okay. Thank you, Terra.”
She nodded as they started to get back into dancing. “That’s what owners are for.”
“Aye, small though they be,” he mused.
They danced through the next two pieces of music and enjoyed every bit of it, although they were a little more conscientious of the space around them from that point on. Thankfully, they had no further mishaps, and everyone else let them alone.
When they decided they needed a breather, they retreated to the courtyard outside. It was a surprisingly well-kept little area, neatly-trimmed gardens surrounding a semicircle of benches and the ubiquitous chocolate fountain.
“I’m surprised the Kiko chocolatier has all of this here at his factory,” Terra said as she and Isengrim ambled leisurely along the hedgerows. “It really doesn’t look it from the outside.”
“Yes, well, appearances can be deceiving,” Isengrim said with a chuckle. “I ought to know.”
Terra smiled. “I wonder if that fountain is always full of chocolate, or if he just replaces the water with chocolate for the Ball. I can’t imagine him using these areas any other time of the year.”
“Perhaps he enjoys sculpting the shrubbery.” Isengrim pointed a claw to a bush that appeared to have been trimmed in the shape of a chocolate bar.
His owner laughed, sitting down on a nearby bench. “Somehow this doesn’t surprise me.” As Isengrim came to sit beside her, she folded her hands in her lap. “This was really fun. Thank you so much for inviting me. If you need someone to go with you next year, I’ll definitely keep my schedule free.”
Isengrim took off his helmet and set it down beside him. “I would like that very much. I do not think Suhel would have been able to withstand the allure of the Chias, either.” Terra giggled.
They spent a few moments sitting in silence, watching other attendees moving in and out of the courtyard. Finally Isengrim reached over and patted Terra’s head. “You are so small,” he said again softly, seeming bemused.
Terra started out of her own thoughts to look up at him. “Why do you keep saying that?”
“Because you are my superior,” Isengrim said with a tilt of his head. “I should not have to look down on you.”
His owner leaned in and hugged him. “You’re not my inferior just because I’m your owner. We’re equals. We’re friends.”
Isengrim put an arm around her shoulders. “I think I like that best.”
***
The rest of the ball went without a hitch. Terra and Isengrim danced a little more and then mingled with some of the more prominent guests, catching up on news from various Neopian lands. And Illusen stayed well away from her new favourite Werelupe—“favourite” being a relative term. Once they had done everything they felt like doing, the Werelupe King and his owner headed back to the hotel, exhausted but satisfied. This venture had been a success in several ways.
They ended up staying in Neopia Central for a week after the Chocolate Ball, as the travel time to their homes was so long that Terra and Isengrim wanted to take full advantage of their miniature vacation. The two explored what felt like every interesting nook and cranny of the bustling metropolis, from the sprawling museums of the Deep Catacombs to the eclectic shops and cosy hole-in-the-wall restaurants of the Marketplace.
Isengrim even took the opportunity to arrange some ambiguous dealings down at the docks with a raspy-voiced green Skeith who turned out to be Malkus Vile, the infamous crime lord. While he couldn’t disclose the details to Terra, Isengrim promised it wasn’t anything bad and she was in no danger—Vile was just one of the Werelupe King’s oldest associates and his main contact in Neopia Central. It was the Skeith and his network who supplied the Werelupe Burrows with imports from the metropolis.
The day before they left for their respective homes, Isengrim took Terra back to the Chocolate Factory – to the shop portion this time – so Terra could show him all of Blynn’s favourite candies. They bought nothing, but Isengrim assured his owner that Blynn would get her chocolate.
And so Terra burst through her front door with nothing but her luggage. “I’m home!” she shouted, letting her voice echo off of the marble and tile in the foyer.
“Terra!” Blynn scampered out of the kitchen, scrambled toward her owner, and leaped at the girl. “Welcome home!”
Catching the Zafara in her arms, Terra staggered back from the force of the impact. “Thanks!”
“How did it go?” Blynn placed her paws on Terra’s shoulders and pulled back to look at her, tail swishing excitedly. “Did you have fun like you promised?”
“You bet I did!” Terra replied as she carried Blynn toward the north wing of their villa. “How was your Chocolate Hlab?” she asked, using the Zafara’s pronunciation.
Blynn threw up her paws. “Oh man, it was amazing! We decorated the great hall and invited a ton of people – Sasha the Dancer even showed up – and I booked a Sticks N’ Stones tribute band!” She stuck out her tongue. “Because you don’t even wanna know how much the real Sticks N’ Stones charges for gigs.”
Terra rolled her eyes in mock disgust. “Like a bajillion Neopoints?”
“Close, two bajillion.” Blynn sat up in her owner’s arms. “Oh! And Pharazon tried to use some magic to help with the decorations—and he ended up accidentally making chocolate gush out of Hyren’s antennae!”
“Let us never speak of this again.” The blue Grundo in question came walking down the hall to meet them, clutching his antennae like they were garden hoses. “Thankfully one of the guests knew enough magic to cast a counter-spell. But my mouth has tasted like chocolate for the past week.”
Blynn turned around and gave him a curious look. “And… that’s a bad thing, why?”
“I said I was sorry!” Pharazon fluttered down the hall on his delicate Faerie Draik wings. “I was just trying to help!”
“You did help!” Blynn insisted. “It was hilarious!”
Terra grinned. “Sounds like it. You guys should do this every year. Pharazon, I’m sure next year, you’ll be practiced enough to find even cooler ways to pick on your brother,” she said with a wink.
The Draik grimaced. “I wasn’t trying to—“
“Sure, sure,” Hyren said, but all the same he patted his younger brother’s shoulder comfortingly. “No harm, no foul. But this chocolate taste had better wear off.”
Pharazon fingered the Lupe Moon Charm around his neck. “I’ll ask Celice if there’s anything I can do about that.”
Blynn watched them in amusement and then turned back to their owner. “Speaking of that, where’s my chocolate?”
“Umm… yes… that…” Terra scratched the back of her neck. “See, uh, the Kiko chocolatier said—“ Before she could finish her sentence, the bell at the front door jangled merrily.
The four gave each other confused looks. “Were you expecting anyone?” Hyren asked.
Terra shook her head. “No, were any of you?”
“Nope…” Blynn jumped out of Terra’s arms and scurried back down the hallway. “But I do love a good surprise!”
“Yeah, I don’t,” Hyren muttered as he jogged after her, his brother and owner in tow.
They got to the foyer in time to see Blynn open the door and stick her head outside. “Weird,” she said, “there’s nobody—hoooooooly Kau.”
The other three ran to the door to see Blynn staring out at three large carts parked in front of their villa, each fully loaded with crates bearing the Chocolate Factory’s stamp. The Zafara’s eyes were as wide as Kreludor as she stumbled over to the wagons as if in a trance. “Is… is this what I think it is?” she whispered reverently. Closing her eyes, she sniffed the air and licked her lips. “’Cause it sure smells like it is!”
“Uhm… surprise!” Terra said, looking rather surprised herself.
“Where are we going to keep all of this?” Hyren asked. “We definitely don’t have room in the pantry.”
Blynn jumped onto one of the wagons, standing atop the crates like a mighty ruler of chocolatedom. “Well, we’ll just have to use the great hall as a chocolate storage room! It might as well see some use the rest of the year, right?”
As the Zafara pried the lid off of one of the crates and wriggled inside, Terra took notice of a nondescript envelope leaning against the side. She opened it and unfolded the letter within. After a cursory glance, she smiled.
“Who’s it from?” Pharazon asked.
“’To my family,’” Terra read. “’Worry not, for your year’s supply of chocolate was legally acquired, I assure you.’”
“Thank goodness for that,” Hyren groaned, running a hand down his face.
“’May we meet again soon, and may the fates smile upon you, as they have upon me for granting me such a wonderful family. All of my love, Isengrim.’” Terra looked up and leaned against the cart. “He does spoil us.”
Blynn popped back out of the crate, nibbling on an Orange Chocolate Nova. “That was sure nice of him. He miscalculated, though.”
Terra glanced up at her. “Oh?”
“This chocolate should only last me a month, at most.”
With a snort, Terra reached up and gently shoved her Zafara back into the crate.
(I would also like to direct your attention to this comic if you enjoy my taking Werelupes out of context.)
(Also, FYI, if the NT does go down or stops updating, I'll put my previously-published Neopets works on Fanfiction.net so they can continue to be enjoyed.)
