A Captive Fool

Bland, dull concrete walls of aged off-white muffled the noises of laughter and cheer of the festivities occurring just outside, working in tandem with the barred wall that cut off the small room and its singular, solitary occupant from the greater world at large.

Duelek would say that he had no idea of how he came to be here. In a metaphorical sense that was, he was keenly aware of how he’d come to be there physically, he was sure that if the thick fur that covered him wasn’t as dark as it was he’d be able to see the rising bruises on his arms where they’d been gripped tightly to jerk him around wherever the law enforcement officers had wanted him, namely this cell.

Duelek grumbled, ears twitching in quick, rapid motions, shifting how he was sitting on the rough, wooden bench within the cell so that he could pull one of his legs up, resting his clawed paw on the wood and leaning his chin against his knee so that he could continue his inspection of the opposing wall in something closer to a comfortable position.

No, the aches in his shoulders where they had nearly been ripped out of their sockets were reminder enough of how he’d been yanked off the streets for no reason and without a chance to ask why. Well, there had been a chance it had just been stamped down quickly by gruff orders and threats of harsher treatment by the law enforcement officers if he didn’t shut his mouth and behave.

The motherfuckin’ assholes. Not even telling a motherfucker why they’d been picked up outta the festival and thrown in a cell, didn’t even give him a chance ta tell his sibling what was happening. Mihal was gonna panic the poor idiot, they wouldn’t have any way to know Duelek had been picked up by the police and not murdered and lying dead somewhere.

Motherfuckin’ local authority figures.

Duelek had told Mihal they shouldn’t have bothered coming out to the festivities tonight, it was just asking for bad things ta happen and they coulda spend a much more relaxed and nice evening at home but no they’d insisted on wanting to go and experience the traditions of the holiday instead of what the Cirque had taught them.

He snorted a breath into the crushing silence of the cell, yeah like what they’d learned there was any different than what was going on outside right now.

Aside from the lack of the rent flesh of sinners, they were about the same; drinking, bright colours and decorations, and pranks and tricks galore. Really when you saw one Festival of Fools you saw them all.

Duelek still would have preferred to be out there with his sibling than stuck in here though, unable to reach them at all and let them know he was fine.

That was probably the worst of it; magic dampeners in the walls cut the weaver off completely from being able to do anything at all about his situation, including contacting his sibling through that avenue of communication. It was wrong to not be able to reach them, was off-putting in the worst kind of way and there was nothing he could do about it except for wait until—

The door to the cellblock opened and Duelek sprang up, unfolding like a puppet on strings, and pressed himself against the bars, lips pulled back slightly over his fangs in his irritation at the unfairness of the situation.

“Ya’ll treat all ya visitors like this or am I bein’ a motherfuckin’ special occurrence?” Perhaps not the best way to address the individuals charged with holding the key to his freedom but no one had ever claimed Duelek to be a smart Weaver now had they?

“Shut up and sit down!” That was exactly the response he was expecting from his outburst but he wasn’t planning on doing either of those things any time soon, not when he’d been thrown in here for no reason.

“Ain’t gonna be doing that none ‘til it’s been told why I’m bein’ in here, yeah?” Duelek snapped back, usually the display would be accompanied by a glow in both his eyes and the gem in the center of his forehead but as it stood it was just sharp words from a skinny twig covered in fluff and fur. Not exactly a very convincing site.

“And I’m not saying anything until you sit down!”

Duelek, former circus performer that he was, tightened his grip on the bars and hoisted himself up, skin-and-bone legs slipping through the bars to cross, leaving him literally sitting in midair with his hold on the bars of the cell keeping him there, an easy feat, nothing too difficult if he were being honest.

A brow rose to the law enforcement officer, a challenge, and the other was unable to hold back the surprised bark of laughter that escaped them.

“Shouldn’t have expected less from you clown freaks.”

Well, that was all kind of rude.

Duelek’s lips pulled back over mismatched fangs, the mist of his tail billowing out behind him in his anger, making him look far more dangerous than the lack of musculature or bulk on his bones would suggest alone. Despite the lack of eerie purple glow, it was still a frightening sight.

He should have known it would be that kind of bullshit.

The village was a small one, secluded up in the high mountains and as a result usually cut off from the rest of the world. They were all distrusting of outsiders, more so Duelek and his sibling who’d refused to hide or be ashamed of where they had come from before finding a home in an old, ruined house in the woods. Most of it at least, there were a few facts that they didn’t speak on at all, ever, but that was beside the point.

The point was that the village was small and distrustful to outsiders or those that didn’t act the way they wanted them to or held different values and skills and the villagers made sure that it obvious when someone wasn’t wanted.

Usually, Duelek and Mihal didn’t have to deal with them and their unkindnesses but the Festival had drawn them out of their home hidden deep with the forest and into the village’s attention. A mistake if he’d ever experienced one.

One he wasn’t going to let either he nor his sibling repent anything soon.

“We’ve had reports of things going missing and someone causing mayhem in the village.”

Duelek snorted, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the law enforcement officer.

“It’s the Festival for it, course there’s some kind a going on tonight. Ya probably got youngins playing tricks.”

“A likely story from someone like you.”

“S’not a story! ‘S honest truth speakin’! Ain’t no fault a mine ya ain’t able ta handle a bunch a youngin’s makin’ mischief!”

The officer scoffs and turns away, dismissing Duelek completely and going back to whatever else they had to occupy themselves with.

Duelek glared after him, limbs stiff and tense before everything leaked out of him and he dropped back to the bottom of the cell, letting himself return to the hard, uncomfortable bench to wait until he was either let out cause they found who was actually responsible for the Fools’ Festival mischief-making or they just grew tired of seeing him in there.

Whatever happened first.

He would be fine.