———

“This is bullshit!”

They can practically hear every little thing going on in the master’s son’s room as he shreds through his many, down-filled pillows and tosses his belongings on the fancy tiled floor. The two men that stand in front of the only thing keeping them from a death sentence, also known as a very large set of doors, listen to the commotion inside with wide eyes. They glance to each other, knowing instantly that one of them should go in there and calm the kid down before the Master has a fit.

Sent to his room with no dessert, and hardly any dinner. Life was harsh for the little cherub this evening, and if it weren’t for the creaking, smashing, and crashing of porcelain, playthings, shelves and accessories, the two Felt members could likely hear Caliborn’s stomach growling even from out here.

“I hate everyone is this whole fucking mansion, every last one of you! Manners, who actually needs that shit anyway? Fucking waste of time! I’m tired of dad shoving this crap down my throat when I so obviously don’t want anything to do with it!!” Caliborn’s hissing, his voice treading dangerously close to screeching levels. Another shelf inside his room topples to the floor.

This was not uncommon practice in the least, the son would always destroy his room anytime anything didn’t go his way. And if he did have his way, it probably wouldn’t just be the room he was destroying… it was the only reason any of the manor’s many residents refused to get near the little snot when he was like this. No matter how small he may be, he was still dangerous.

The fifth member looks to the third, tapping his clawed fingers against the dinnerplate in his hands. He already knows which one of them is going in there, it doesn’t even have to be said or argued. Trace gets the hint from that look in Fin’s eyes and sighs with a bit of a shrug. He takes a quick bite of his own food, chewing slowly as if it will help his nerves somehow, and then.. with a deep breath, he opens one of the doors.

And immediately a glass vase is chucked at his shin, painfully smashing into him without even breaking. Trace grunts, nearly dropping his dinner, along with the rest of his body, to the floor, but somehow manages to stay stable. Fin would have been better off coming in here, he grumbles to himself. At least he could dodge any unidentified flying objects that would be lobbed at his head.

Even though Trace begins speaking, Caliborn continues to trash his room, screaming cuss words and insults at the green man that he is thankfully too dense to take much offense to, “Hey kid, what’s your problem anyway? Are you upset just because of another lesson from the Doc, or is it the food that’s bothering you, hm? Would a bite of mine satisfy you?” 

That plate waves tauntingly in Caliborn’s face, he can smell the sauces, every little spice and vegetable filling his nasal cavity, and it makes his mouth water. But he refuses to accept food from the likes of these fools. He hates all of them right now and forever, and he’s determined to make this clear when he bares his sharp fangs and snaps them at the other’s hands. “I don’t want your courteous charity! I don’t want your food! You touched it already anyway, you disgusting piece of shit. If I wanted sharkbreath for dinner I would have just eaten you up myself!”

Trace recoils and nearly jumps in fear, but now he holds his plate of food close to him almost in digust. Sharkbreath, really now… how creative. “I understand you, kid, I don’t like the crackpotted butler either, but for reasons no one knows, these dates that are coming up are actually real important. He just wants to help you help the family.”

“Fuck this family. If you thought that was the problem, you are wrong! It’s none of your damn business, why won’t you just leave? I do not care about these dates, dad can go suck my twisted nipples.” Caliborn puffs his chest out, trying to be more intimidating… and it’s working really. Trace doesn’t want anywhere near this kid, he knows well enough that cherubs can saw through bone with those chompers of theirs. He tries to remain calm nonetheless, snacking on his food almost like a nervous habit while the child continues to speak. “I know what the deal is. He wishes us to be proper and prepared to meet people I don’t even fucking know. Or better yet. They don’t fucking know me. If they did they would know this is how things are around here. This is how shit goes down.”

Oh great. Pay attention number 3, he’s picking up something from the floor again: some sort of stupid doll. Far less painful than the glass containers, but Trace still makes an effort to dodge it when it’s tossed at his head, letting it slam against the wall behind him hard enough to chip the recently repainted wall. Well, looks like it would be needing another coat of paint after Caliborn’s through here.

“Yeah, I get it, this is how—”

“I was not done speaking! Shut up lockjaw. You are in my territory, I do not care if you are one of daddy’s little ‘servants’ you are not going to boss me around. Got it?” He waits for no answer, stomping down hard on the poolshark’s foot, to which he responds with a grunt and, whoops, there finally goes his meal, slipping from his hands and toppling to the floor. “You know what I am really tired of? All of you showing my sister this weird sort of respect and affection she does not deserve. Where’s my respect? Where’s my fucking dessert? Why does she get to eat her damn dinner however she wants. Then I try and suddenly I’m the one who’s grounded?”

Fin almost decides to speak up from his quiet place where he watches, but there’s no stopping English’s kid now, he’s on a rampage. The 5th almost figures if he even says anything, he’ll probably get chewed out too, literally, so he chooses to slink back into the hallway just as Trace starts screaming bloody murder after trying to tell Caliborn he needs to “calm the fuck down.” What causes that screaming can only be blood, and teeth. Lots of painful teeth. Fin would rather not watch.

Wait, is that someone coming down the hallway? Shit, it better not be Doc Scratch, or the Master, everything was still a disaster. Could you even imagine being in the same vicinity as either of them while they’re angry? It’s not a pretty sight. Fin runs forward, careful not to drop his own plate of food, and greets the figure with a relieved grin. Thank the lord almighty, it’s just Calliope. The Felt member gives a tip of his hat to the little lady, “well good evenin’ sweetie, I take it the whole etiquette ordeal went down swell for ye?”

The female cherub gives a quick curtsy in return, her smile sweet, and an even sweeter plate of food in her hands. It seems she’s brought some dessert with her, which Fin eyes hungrily, “But of course, I expected no other outcome, these things come naturally to me afterall! Ah, but I’ve no time to talk…” She scoots past Fin easily, ignoring his pitiful whine when she’s moved that delectable looking cake out of his sight, “I must speak with my brother, alone if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Oh.. oh! Yeah yeah I getcha, girly. Fine, I’ll be on my way then,” the 5th eyes her for a moment longer, but knows Trace will be joining him soon, and saunters himself off down the hall, “goodluck to ya, he’s bein’ a real feisty piece a work.” Lord he nearly snorted. He knows his buddy got it pretty bad with those teeth of Caliborn’s.

Of course, Calliope has no reason to fear her brother, she knows very well how he can be. In fact she’s rather confident she’s the only one who could possibly calm him right now.

When she enters the room, it’s almost as if Caliborn was fighting for a chicken leg the way he was chomping down on Trace’s arm and slashing up the skin. Blood was running down his arm and soaking the Felt member’s suit, it was clear he would need some medical attention. Or just one tailor.
“Brother! You let him go right this bloody instant!”

And surprisingly, he does, falling back and landing in a pile of the very things he destroyed with a very uncomfortable crunch. Trace takes this time to gasp and growl in pain, clutching the torn-up limb in his only good hand.

“…What?” Caliborn almost demands, staring down Calliope.

The sister ignores him at first to see to Trace, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Poor dear, are you quite alright? Do make sure you make a stop by Stitch’s boutique for repairs, hm..?” He nods in response, though her voice is oddly not as endearing as it sounds, it’s obvious she’s rushing him out, showing more interest in the little shit that just ripped apart his arm. “Thank you for trying, but you won’t be needed here any longer. Move along my dear fish friend.”

“…Yeah. I’m gone,” and with that, he gladly slithers himself out of the room, grumbling about how happy he is just to be out of there. He leaves behind him a trail of blood and grumpy, butthurt feelings.

Caliborn watches the whole ordeal with disgust, standing himself back up and kicking the things on the floor out of his way. His lips taste of Felt blood, and he licks them clean, forked tongue flicking out against his own cheek bones. “So what now? You’ve come to taunt me as well? How wonderfully sisterly of you.”

“Hm… As delightful as that very idea sounds… no.”

“Then what the fuck do you want?”

“Believe it or not, I’ve actually come to comfort you,” her head gives a slight tilt and she extends the plate of cake towards him.

Which he eyes suspiciously, allowing himself a step backwards, “Pity? What for?”

“Not pity, comfort,” she corrects, following his step forward, the gifted plate still pushing at him. “I know how you hate so greatly when things like these.. lessons go about, and I don’t believe it should keep you from getting to enjoy your evening.”

For a brief moment he’s silent, almost as if agreeing with her, a hesitant hand even reaching at the plate before jerking back again, “How funny sis, it’s almost as if you care. But I don’t care, so get out of here and take your filthy shit with you,” the brother swats at the offending plate.

But Callie is quick, she maneuvers the plate out of his reach and instead grabs ahold of his violently swinging hand, stopping it in its tracks. “I’m not going anywhere until you accept my hospitality… either you may accept my amelioration of your situation now, or I will stay here until you do.”

Caliborn’s face flushes in surprise. Their hands… he would never get used to that every time she did it, everytime she held his hand like that. Although it occurs to him she probably knows that. His sister was doing this on purpose, taunting him with the warm stroking of her claws over his knuckles. The red cherub sways slightly on his feet, his fingers managing to curl around her palm. Were they holding hands? He somehow hoped she wouldn’t notice, grabbing at the plate now with his free claws to distract her. “You play a sick game, sis, but fine. I don’t want to see your face any longer than I have to, so let’s get this over with.”

“Truly? How wonderful!” She’ll accept this answer, letting the plate into his grabby fingers. Of course, the holding of hands doesn’t escape her, but she chooses not to speak of it, their hands instead lowering at their sides, comfortably entwined. It was nice, despite everything.

“Don’t look so snooty,” he snorts at the growing smile on Calliope’s face, then turns his attention to the delicious ca— wait a second. “Hey… No fork? Some charity you’re pulling here.”

A giggle. “Well! After your earlier performance I assumed you were in no need of such obstructions.” Look at her, she probably thought she was so funny.

“Fuck you,” Caliborn pulls away from her, their hands unraveling, “You’re right. But fuck you. No one asked for your humor.”

Oh now she’s just sitting there in a giggle fit, “I’m sorry! I couldn’t resist, it was too perfect. I care about you, Cal, but sometimes you are like one giant book filled with nothing but jokes worth sharing over and over again!”

“Right… You know what I think you should do?” His face twitches into a smirk, fangs sticking out as he tries his best not to smile. Bony fingers prod at the plate and soft surface of his confection idly. “Care about this.”
Calliope barely has time to manage a “hm?” when suddenly her brother has a rough grip on her trousers and pulls them open only enough to shove an entire plate of chocolate cake down the unsuspecting girl’s pants with an added cackle just for effect.
She shrieks, leaping away in horror, desperately trying to somehow remove the substance until she gives in and puffs her chest in anger.

“Ohhh if anyone’s humour was not wanted, it was definitely yours, brother! You are so immature, and now I wonder why I even bothered coming here! I didn’t have to bring you anything you know.” She doesn’t even bother staying, upset and gross, she’ll have to take a shower now. How vile. Calliope swings around, huffing the whole way out the door.

“You shouldn’t have brought shit, I told you I didn’t want your help!” He hisses, but in reality he’s sporting the biggest grin. He always loves upsetting her, it makes him feel like the winner here. He would always be the winner.

“I hate you!”

Caliborn stands at the door, watching her storm off, “Whatever… thanks for the cake, bitch.”
Maybe sometime they’ll get to share it together.
What a weirdly nice thought.