FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

*CONTENT WARNING: * This story contains depictions of violence, murder and horror themes throughout. Viewer Discretion is advised.

"And that's all he said?" she waited for Theodore's nod.

"Stayed quiet until the doctors started checking him out here," Theodore turned his head toward the infirmary. Mabel paced back and forth between the pillars of the covered walkway, but no beasts approached them.

Joining him on the polished wooden slats, Madame Sybil closed the foggy glass door behind her and gave a small sigh. "This place is going to be the death of me," the Panther muttered to no one in particular. She brushed down the folds of her red silk dress to settle it around her ankles once more. Dazzling emerald eyes closed in meditation for only a moment, then reopened to settle on Theodore with a flicker of study. "You made sure you weren't followed?"

"If we weren't, we kind of fucked up in the 'advertising' at the Docks--," Theodore began before he could stop himself. His head shrank back into his shoulders beneath the combined, withering glare of Sybil and Mabel. "Didn't... we...?"

"Hard to say, we came straight here," Mabel chirped. "Anybeast could have been watching me, the good Professor or Theodore walk by, but I did try and keep an eye out for familiar beasts or the particularly interested." her chest puffed with pride.

Theodore nodded alongside Mabel's words, trying to not let his attention get too distant. History itched the back of his head: he'd once been told the Silver Ladle was a military outpost long before the Abbey it was today.

Thousands of questions swirled behind his eyes, darting up and down the walls as he surveyed the lonely entrance in the west. Would they be able to save a life? This was holy ground; not many beasts were fighters. How many beasts had ever been called to formation at the clock tower's base? More importantly, how many would answer a call today? What waves, if any, crashed against these stoic walls? Would they still hold? If they didn't, who would have to be stitched back together in the infirmary, or fight for peace between the stains on their souls and deeds of their paws? Did old souls haunt the halls, like Anais and Isolde were so damned paranoid about? If they did, would those spirits help everyone with a beast who just threw himself at the Ladle's grace?

"Professor?" Theodore's ears perked in time with Madame Sybil's question, jerking him back to their conversation. He cleared his throat into his fist, his gaze narrowing to the Panther as she stared at him. The display of her disapproval told Theodore he'd been caught daydreaming again.

"On his bag. Professor Kendall Whitaker, Ophthalmologist." she confirmed. Her fingers laced in front of her, and her back straightened as she made her report. Madame Sybil's glare softened before it moved away from Theodore. "From the Northern District University; he's not one of ours, but he's near enough."

"Once again, your powers of observation are appreciated, and that does at least indicate why he would think to come here first," the Panther tilted her head in a polite salute; Mabel responded with a curtsy. "Before we go to more important business, were the brochures passed out?"

"Yes," they responded in unison. Sybil nodded, her arms folded over her chest as her tail curled just beneath the hem of the dress near her shins. It flicked in an agitated gesture that Theodore always saw more of around the holidays.

"One less thing to worry about. Both of you, my thanks," she continued to smooth over her dress, as if her palms alone would iron it flat. Theodore raised an eyebrow at the gesture; he'd never seen her like this in three years. "Which of you first took the report?"

"Theodore," Mabel took a smart half-step backward. He shot a glare it her as she abandoned him.

He didn't get a chance to even open his mouth in his defense.

She pointed at each of them in turn. "Then you, come with me. Mabel, please stay here and ensure that you keep track of all of the guests that come or go. Anybeast who isn't visiting someone by name isn't allowed entry," Sybil looked to Theodore, then directed him toward the main house of the Ladle with a nod. Her muzzle tilted toward the Avian once more, "When the Professor is done, I want him to be brought up to my quarters, where Theodore and I will be waiting. Until I know what is going on, any visitor tothis infirmary without specific cause will hang."

The weight of Sybil's stress settled on his shoulders as well, and she guided him away with a gesture. She let silence overtake them as they passed by a small clog of Abbeygoers who stepped too close for either of their comfort; the pair dodged around their side and continued down the brick path toward the main hall at the center of the grounds.

"I need you to tell me everything, Theodore," Madame Sybil guided him. He extended his stride to walk shoulder to shoulder with her. Her natural grace was again on full display, dodging around potted plants and benches to rejoin him in the center of the road.

"Where do you want me to start? Just today, or about the bath as well?" he let his voice trail off.

"We can discuss what happened in the private bath at your leisure, but I would like to have that discussion sooner than later," she shook her head. "But for now, only today."

Anticipation made his stomach curl over on itself like he'd eaten a bad egg. His arms folded across his chest, and his tongue tutted against the roof of his mouth. Theodore hated recalling things like this--too often he gave more details than he needed.

"I left this morning with Mabel, and it took us almost an hour to get everything set up. She passed out brochures to the other tents while I finished up with the set up inside ours--" he began.

"Anais said that the furniture in the booth I've been paying for is nothing but splinters. Is that true?" Sybil's distract jarred Theodore, and he fought to respond before she waved her question out of the air. "Not important. Sorry."

"I... I went down to the docks and passed things out on my way; wanted to see if there was any truth to--fuck--" Theodore growled at himself. "I forgot to check."

"Focus, please," Sybil raised her voice. "So he just stumbled off the boat and into your arms, then?"

Theodore spoke through a sigh. "He did."

"With no mention of anything else?" she pressed as they approached the entrance. She took Theodore's arm as they stepped onto the porch and inside, just past the salt-water crusted loveseats on the porch.

Just past the heavy oak door, dizzying motion bloomed into full view. Every beast that worked was on deck, with more needed still. The Summer Solstice Gala was three weeks away now, by Theodore's count, and that meant everything needed to be in place in two. Banners were rolled and stacked against a wall, and tables just next to them. Floors were being cleaned and made ready for dancers, and beasts haggled shifts and duties to streamline the tide of visitors they would receive.

Madame Sybil tugged Theodore through the thickest part of the crowd; the force of her presence alone allowed her to draw a line between the front door and the staircases in the rear of the banquet hall.

"We'll be greenwedding en mass this year," she exhaled as soon as they were a flight up the coil of stairs. They passed the seating veranda on the second floor, past the suites on the third floor, and finally to the living quarters on the fourth before Sybil spoke again. "Isolde's been given more than her share of shit from Topplewait from the registrations we've already sent."

"Isn't... Topplewait on the other side of the world...?" Theodore's muzzle scrunched in confusion. "Why would they need to know about weddings over here?"

"Isolde's traditions are hers alone," Sybil shook her head. "And they're not angry because we've been performing paw-fasting, they're upset because we can't get them notice in time," she pinched the bridge of her muzzle. "I wish telegrams were more widespread. Wolfhardt Industries can hurry the fuck up with_that_, instead of another godsdamned ship."

"But I'm the one that needs to focus," Theodore teased, only to dip his muzzle in apology. "Right..." he let silence overtake him once more.

The living suites were quiet this time of day: every beast set about doing their chores in the commotion just underfoot. Thick carpets and ceiling to floor curtains on the walls helped to further to steal noise from the air. Thirty beasts lived here full time, each with their own room here; fourteen doors on either side of the wide hallway, and the Madame's own solid oak door staring angrily at the staircase.

"Is there more to discuss, even?" Theodore asked, looking longingly toward the door to his room--first on the left--as they walked by. "You know everything that I do, at this point."

"How much longer are you going to keep abusing yourself?" Sybil's voice pierced Theodore enough to make him jump. She turned on her toes, staring him in the face. Her eyes narrowed, and she began to appraise him once more; he shifted uncomfortably with her shift in tone. "And don't tell me that you don't know what you mean. Take a good, long whiff--you can smell it even out in this hallway, Theodore," her arm cast toward the door to his room.

His ears splayed.

"How much longer do you intend to keep drinking yourself to bed?"

Theodore's arms crossed over his chest, and he inhaled deeply before he spoke. "I'm just getting rid of the bottles of bourbon that--"

"Then you give them. To someone. Else." Sybil enunciated, pinching the air in front of her as if she was conducting the sentence. "I've smelled it on you twice in the last week. Isolde's told me it's been three, and Guthery won't even talk with me about it," her back straightened. "So I am going to ask you directly, since you won't pull your head out of your ass on your own?"

He felt his teeth bare in a snarl that wasn't meant for the Madame. "What the hell kind of question is that?"

"One I expect you to answer honestly," her own muzzle twitched in anger. "Give me your Word, or swear before whatever god you choose; but I will have a response. How much longer are you going to keep abusing yourself?" she reiterated.

"The fuck happened to this question being at my convenience?" he demanded. "Besides, you and I both know that Death is the only god on these shores. Even Daitune would let this city sink."

"The question at your leisure is when you are ready to return to work. The immediate question is when you're going to start treating yourself like you give a damn about your own wellbeing," she tilted to catch his hardening gaze.

This snarl was the first he'd ever given the Madame in three years. "Then I'll pitch the rest of it tonight."

"Then I expect it gone," her tone softened. He crossed his arms and took a half-step back; she closed the distance automatically. He thought he saw a pang of regret across her face.

"Theodore," she raised her arm, her paw resting so lightly against his arm she barely even disturbed his pelt. He looked down at the gesture with disdain, raising an eyebrow to the Panther as she spoke. "You came to us years ago because we wouldn't treat you like less than the Wolf you are. No dour working conditions; no rampant cough, no steel rods driving through your shoulder," she reminded him. He rolled his right side and turned his head away, but she continued nonetheless. "I won't treat you with the same level of disrespect you've treated yourself with."

His shoulders dropped, and he took another half-step away from Sybil toward his own door. "I... I should get ready for work, then?" he rubbed the back of his head. "I'm sorry."

"I want you to consider it very carefully then, Theodore. For my sake," she reached forward, her paws placed firmly over his arm--he hadn't even realized he'd curled his fists so tightly. Madame Sybil took him by the wrist, beginning to slowly knead the muscles in his forearm to get his paw to relax. "I will put you on the list if you would like, but only as you wish to be there. You can still Host. You can still take whatever gent or lass you wish to bed with you."

Theodore snorted. "I'll host to request; not to repeat. Books would be too narrow then for the Gala."

"You're not being limited there," she stressed. Theodore didn't respond, and Sybil tutted her tongue before nodding at a thought that rattled in her own head. "But for my sake, I will not put you in the pool so soon after the attempt on your life."

He turned his head. His glare cut a hole in the abbey walls that would open a path to the docks if it could have. "We'll compromise then. I've been too long without a paycheck and it's drying me out of savings. I don't want to be coddled over this. I'll get help if I need it. I give you my Word."

"The paycheck is what I am aim to discuss next," she took a step back, her posture returning to its rigid, businessbeast stature. "As you know, we're still looking for Silas and Darrow. My best are on it; because of that--"

Their ears perked in unison, and both heads turned toward the staircase. Mabel lead a disheveled looking Otter by the paw; Theodore and Sybil exchanged glances.

"Can I take a guess as to what you were going to say next?" Theodore offered.