This freebie story for The Players Are the Thing was the result...Fagin, Oliver, the Artful Dodger/Jack, and Charley Rhodes are all characters from Charles Dickens' Oliver Twist, which I'm currently reading along with a great many other things...
A half-eaten apple core lay on the ground, next to the steps leading up to the house. Beatrix stared at the decaying, once yellow innards of the fruit, devoured and discarded.
A dog started barking on the other side of a window, covered by pristine white curtains, with a frilly star pattern within them.
“Shut up.” Beatrix rubbed her eyes. “I’m not the Canine Anti-Christ.”
The dog let out a particularly piercing yelp, as if contradicting that statement.
“Fine. You’re right. I am the Canine Anti-Christ.” Beatrix put her hands on her hips and glowered at a black muzzle which poked its way through the curtains. “In fact, I’m looking for my Thirteenth Sacrifice so I can fully manifest in this dimension. Care to volunteer.”
The dog yipped and back away from the curtains.
“Oi, Fagin, what’s got your tail tangled?” A loud, cheerful voice rang out inside the house. “It’s only Beatrix. Hey, Grumpy!”
The door opened to reveal a thick-set figure with shaggy, yet somehow glorious coppery curls. Reggie gazed out from under a singel lock with a bright, hazel eye. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you still be sleeping your coffin, like Mona is?”
“Hah, hah. Your sense of humour is every bit as tasteful as your curtains.” Beatrix eyed the innocuous white barriers of cloth which failed to hide anything, let alone hide anything. “If Mona is sleeping in her coffin, wake her up. I need to talk to her.”
“You’ll have to wait a moment, Your Grumpiness.” Reggie opened the door, grabbed an eager Fagin to stop him from lunging outside at Beatrix before stomping over to the staircase. The faint scene of sour of milk and dog drifted out the door. “Rise and shine, Moan! It’s your unlucky day! Your evil ex has come calling!”
Beatrix winced at much at the cheer in Reggie’s voice as their words. “Can’t you just stick to one nickname?” She took a ginger step towards the threshold and the smell. She had no desire to go in. Hopefully no one would invite her. “You’ve already given me the title of Grumps. Since when am I an evil ex as well?”
“Oh, you’re Grumps to me. You’re the Evil Ex to Mona.” Reggie offered Mona an evil grin full of even white teeth, flashing against the rich bronze of their cheeks and lips. They released Fagin.
Beatrix backed up in alarm, but the dog raced up the stairs in the direction of Mona’s room, tail wagging with way too much enthusiasm.
“That should get her downstairs.” Reggie cast an admiring look in the dog’s direction. “He’s got more energy than he knows what to do with.”
“I can see that.” Beatrix didn’t want to get any closer to the threshold, but she could hear Fagin scratching at the door and Mona grumbling. Like Beatrix, Mona was not a morning person. “Why is he Fagin?
“Because he corrupts kittens and leads them to a life of crime.” Reggie shook her head, but there was no hiding the admiring gleam in her hazel eyes. “He’s already taught the Artful Dodger and Charley Rhodes how to steal popcorn from Gina and myself. He’s trying to coax Oliver as well, but he’s too shy.”
“Just like the book,” Beatrix said, interested in spite of herself. A small black kitten strode up boldly to sniff at Reggie’s bare, painted toes. He was followed by a tiny ginger ball of fur who rubbed against his human’s jean-covered legs. “Are these the Artful Dodger and Charley?”
“And that’s Oliver.” Reggie pointed down to the bottom of the stairs. A pair of greenish-blue eyes peered out of a smoky patch, trying to pretend it was part of the steps. “Fagin is a terrible influence on all of them.”
“Which you’re enjoying.” Beatrix cast a critical eye over Reggie’s wiry brown arms, exposed by a cheap, university t-shirt, oval face with high cheekbones worthy of an Egyptian mummy cast, and suppressed a sigh of envy. People like Reggie didn’t need to worry about how they dressed, they were good-looking enough to make a simple jeans and t-shirt part of their beauty. Just another one of the little injustices of the universe, ready to mock Beatrix. “One day you and your pets will take over the world and the world can’t say I didn’t warn it.”
“You’d never warn the world, Grumpy.” Reggie met Beatrix’s criticism with a wry smile of their own. “You’d miss out on enjoying its misery if you did.”
She didn’t get a chance to retort. A door opened upstairs, pouring down the sound of canine excitement and Moma mumbling in a sleepy voice. “Fagin, down, boy. Reg, why are you waking me up?”
“Beatrix stopped by to see you, Moan.” Reggie grinned up at the sight of a groggy Mona which Beatrix couldn’t see from her vantage. “She’s waiting for you on the doorstep.”
“Oh, crap! I mean hi, Beatrix!” Things were tossed around at the top of the landing, possibly clothing. “Is Rhane with you?”
“No, so you needn’t bother freshening up.” Beatrix peeked her head around the threshold to glimpse a tousled head of dark hair disappearing into a room. “I just need to talk to you for a moment.”
Too late. The door slammed shut with a hasty “Just give a moment!” drifting down the stairs.
“There she goes.” Reggie gazed up the staircase, their smile crumpling around the edges. “I don’t know what she sees in you or why she goes to all this effort.”
Fagin clomped down the stairs, sending a startled Oliver scurrying for the darker corners of the house. Charley and the Dodger chased after the other kitten.
“Rejected, again, huh?” Reggie gave the dog a comforting scritch on the muzzle. “Well, that’s just life. The ones we appreciate never appreciate us in turn.” They gave Beatrix a meaningful look under long eyelashes.
“It’s not me Mona is hoping to see or hopes will appreciate her.” Why did Beatrix’s voice come out so defensive. “She’s trying to impress Rhane.”
“Because you made Rhane all the more desirable by living with her.” Reggie looked Beatrix up and down. “Mona is still hung up on every little thing you say or do, Grumpy. Did you know she bought an old black jacket only because it looks like yours?”
“Yeah, well she never bothered with taste any more than you.” Beatrix fought the urge to touch the sleeve of the jacket in question. It was old, worn, covered with old pins featuring Babylon 5 and Dark Shadows. “I bet you still buy pre-sliced bread at the supermarket, even though you could wait for a much better bread at the Farmer’s Market.”
“While I bet you still buy your tea in bags from Cost Plus even though you could get a much better quality leaf online.” Reggie raised their eyebrow at Beatrix. “We’re both tasteless, Grumpy, not to mention we’ve got tastes we really can’t afford.”
“The bread isn’t the one that really gets me.” Beatrix shrugged, feeling some of the tension leave her. “It’s the dice and gaming supplements.”
“You ought to budget yourself on that stuff.” All playfulness departed from Reggie in an abrupt rush. “Supplies don’t make a roleplaying game great.”
“I know that.” Depression, the unhappiness lurking behind the caustic shell Beatrix had been forming around herself was starting to leak out.
What had happened, the joy in running a game with only a handful of dice in a room where the air conditioner didn’t work and the sweat dripped down their faces? Those moments of screaming when they’d rolled five tens or moaning over all the ones appearing accusingly at them? The long hours of talking together about their characters, their plans for the future?
First Mona and Rhane started going off by themselves. Later Rhane started departing right after the game ended to go for a walk or write in her notebook. Beatrix and Mona were left staring at each other. One of them would make their excuses and depart.
Only when Beatrix saw new dice, a new dice bag, or a supplement with an attractive cover did some of the rush, that old excitement come back. Only it was getting harder and harder to hold onto the feeling, not to mention expensive.
“Knowing is one thing, doing is another.” Reggie backed away. “Here’s comes trouble. I’ll leave you two lovebirds to work out whatever ails you.”
“It’s not like that!” Mona yelled after Reggie retreated with Fagin. She turned to brush a bouncy wave of brown hair out of her pale face. “Sorry about Reg. You know what she’s like. Come on in.”
“No, thanks. I just came by to give you a brief message.” Beatrix took a deep breath. “We’ve got a new player joining us. Her name’s Zoe.”
“Really?” Interest and apprehension warred in Mona’s large, dark eyes. “What’s she like? Who is she playing?”
“She’s going to play Rhiannon.” Beatrix took a deep breath. “It seemed easier since Rhi already has a relationship in the campaign with Amber and Isolde.”
“Not exactly a good one.” Mona scowled, sucking in her lower lip. Isolde, Mona’s muscle-bound artist, wasn’t exactly fond of Rhiannon, to put it mildly. “Are you sure about this? Rhiannon seemed to be a big part of your plans.”
“Well, maybe it’s time for my plans to be upset.” Beatrix glanced away at the half-eaten apple once more. “Nobody seems to have been enjoying themselves very much of that.”
Mona widened her eyes while her mouth dropped open. “Really?”
“Really.” Was it that shocking? The fact that Beatrix was letting go of Rhiannon, who’d been a favorite non-player character of hers? Or was it Beatrix was all right with her plans being upset?
All she’d done lately was worry about the plan, fret about the plan, snap at players if they took their characters in a direction different than the plan.
Even the Game Master was getting tired of the plan.
“Let’s see what happens.” Beatrix looked up, straight into Mona’s brown eyes. Soft and loyal as a puppy dog’s. Mona often reminded her of a puppy dog, willing to follow Beatrix wherever she might lead. She’d sneered at what seemed to be a lack of any intiative to form plans of Mona’s own, but perhaps there was something more to her old friend’s unquestioning loyalty. “It may be time to shake things up.”
She turned her back on her friend’s incredulous expression and headed down the stairs.
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