In the outskirts of the city that never sleeps known as No York City, a small “child” with white blonde hair waited, half buried in snow as it waited patiently for its “mommy”.

The blaring honks and banging construction sounds hurt Larystellan the third’s sensitive ears, and the stench of trash mingling with pollution was offensive to his keen nose. But worst of all was the gnawing hunger that seemed to be eating him from the inside out. He knew that he was dying. He’d been arrogant, thinking that he’d be a god in this world of weak humans. Although the humans were indeed weak they had scary magic he didn’t understand, and strange systems. He had no way of obtaining food, and with no Essence in the air to replenish his magic, he was at the end of his rope.

His eyes impatiently swept around the humans rushing about again. Where was the human from yesterday? Should he pick a different mommy?

The humans all had a glazed over look, bundled up in layers of varying shades of black. They hunched over glowing magical devices, hardly looking up as they rushed about. They looked unnatural and soulless, like they didn’t have a purpose in life other than to await instructions from the glowing screens in their hands.

No, he had to stay strong and wait for the human.

Before he'd shifted into a child, he'd pretended to be a “beggar”, a lower class human of sorts. Of the 318 humans that had passed by him, most had ignored him, five had given him some useless green paper, and one had given him a box labeled Papa Joe. Inside the box awaited a delicacy that could not be found in Elyria. He didn't even know how to describe the mouthwatering explosion of flavors in his mouth. He only knew that he wanted more of it. And that human could get him more.

His eyes were subconsciously drawn to the glittering red and gold fruit on the many trees that lined the streets. If only they were edible... He'd tried to eat them earlier and had almost lost his teeth instead. They were cold, brittle and hollow, and only served to remind him that he knew nothing of this place.

On Elyria, the bigger and stronger you were, the more you were respected. But here it seemed bigger and stronger you were, the more you were controlled and enslaved. And the weaker and smaller (and uglier) you were, the more servants catered to your every wish.

He knew this because when he'd shifted into a mammoth woollygaggle to stay warm, he'd been surrounded and captured by humans wearing matching clothing. The humans of this world were strangely skittish creatures that were somehow terrifyingly coordinated in large packs, with magical devices that made him unconscious.

When he'd scouted around as a bird, he'd discovered a large prison that held all sorts of animals captive, while small humans led their servants around, pointing and laughing at the captives. Outside of the prison, the only animal larger than humans he saw were horses, who were worked and whipped into submission. He shuddered, glad that he'd had some stored Essence on him to get away, and was smart enough to make himself small and observe this world before being permanently enslaved.

Instead of the big and strong making decisions, it seemed that the smaller and weaker you were, the more power you had. Here was another tiny human shrieking "mommy" as an example, protected from the snow while the its large human servants shivered in the cold and did its bidding. 

This place was so backward, and yet the people didn't look that different from Elyria. If he ignored the glowing signs on all the tall, gray buildings and the strange washed out clothing everyone wore, he could almost delude himself into thinking it was just a peculiar corner of his planet. But no, he hadn’t caught sight of a single shifter here.

Instead of non-shifting humans being the oppressed minority, they seemed to dominate the society. And everyone's greatest fear appeared to be the wailing of tiny, wrinkly, red humans. Therefore it was only reasonable to conclude that tiny, non-shifting humans ruled this world.

Although his worst years had been as a helpless human child, he shifted into that form again for survival. Now all he needed to do was survive the blistering cold long enough to snag his “mommy”, and get his hands on more of the delicious food he had yesterday.

*

A couple blocks east of the “child” was the "mommy" he was waiting for.

Andrew was comfortably splayed out on his bed, blissfully unaware that he'd shut off his alarms in his sleep and was keeping both his manager and an alien "child" waiting.

The sunlight filtering through the blinds caused him to stir. He blearily yawned and glanced at his phone. It was 9:15.

9:15??

It was 8:15 a second ago!

"Fuckkk! Regina’s gonna kill me...!" He groaned as he scrambled out of bed.

He hastily rinsed his teeth with toothpaste water, grabbed his backpack and blew his sleeping hamster a kiss. “Bye Hamlet!”

He popped into the elevator, and changed while it moved, betting that nobody was looking through the security camera.

He was fully dressed and stuffing his pajamas into his backpack, when his landlady walked in, cradling her toy poodle. She stared intensely at him for some reason.

Andrew patted his face, wondering if he had toothpaste on his cheek.

"Your shirt is inside out."

Andrew peeked down at the inside out Papa Joe logo on his chest. “oh, thanks!” He winked and remedied the problem immediately, to her dismay.

At that moment the elevator reached the lobby, and Andrew hopped on his longboard and disappeared from view before she could complain. 

Outside was a light flurry, and the sidewalks were a tad icy, but Andrew was glad he didn't have to kick through gross gray slush. Balancing with his right and kicking with his left, he eased into the rhythm of weaving through the bustling crowds and treacherous potholes.

He hadn’t always had trouble waking up in the morning, but coming home exhausted each night from juggling ten or so odd jobs was starting to take its toll. Maybe he should cut back? But..

Andrew opened his Bank of Emarica, on his phone, while keeping one eye on the road. He still needed to make another two thousand by the end of the week or he wasn’t going to be able to pay the mortgage on the bakery property.

He wished his parents would accept him for who he was, and lend him money even if they didn’t agree with his decision. He wished he wasn’t 19 with no credit score so that the bank could lend him money. He wished he knew how to make friends, or had the time and energy to do so…

Mostly he wished Big V was still alive so they could open the bakery together.

Big V was Andrew's aunt, and the black sheep of the family. Her name was Victoria, but her family called her Big V, hoping to shame her into shedding some pounds. But contrary to expectation she embraced the name, even giving out enamel pins of a round, cartoon version of herself winking and making a big V with her fingers. Andrew always admired her strong character and wished to be independent like her.

Big V was no longer around, but his memories of her kept him forging ahead. He liked to imagine that she was still with him and was proud of him for breaking out of his mold. Proud of him for leaving the life of pretending just so his parents and peers would like him.

"I am the author of my life!" Andrew shouted into the wind that whipped his face and hair, loving the feeling of freedom as he weaved around slushy potholes, people and dog shit. Yeah sure, it was hardly a straight shot, but when he was on the board, picking up speed, he felt that it was good to be alive. Alive and free. Yes there were obstacles. But no matter how big, he felt increasing confidence that he could overcom-- THUNK.

His wheel caught.

He launched into the air, flailing like a noodle in a hurricane.

He crashed and slid along the ground, wondering what part of the sidewalk could have possibly caught his wheel. Had a pothole appeared out of nowhere?

The answer was... magic.

The “child” had been patiently waiting for their fated encounter all morning. But then saw that his "mommy" was going to speed right past him. The "child" impulsively used the last of the Essence he'd brought with him from Elyria to cast a spell. He hadn't expected to send his slave-to-be flying though... whoops.

The “child” saw a rectangular object slide towards him. It was one of those magical devices all the humans of this place were obsessed over!

He picked it up and saw a lot of numbers. He scrunched his brows. What did it mean? He poked his finger randomly on the device and found the displayed images change! Wow! This illusion magic was incredible. Spurred on by the excitement of the magic, he continued to poke, faster and faster.

Andrew winced as he picked himself up off the ground. His ankle didn't feel right. Ugh and he was definitely going to be late at this rate. What time was it?

He patted around himself but didn't feel his phone. He whipped his head around and saw a small child with white blonde fluffy hair fiddling around with it.

"Hey!" Andrew limped over.

The child looked up. Andrew was taken aback by his piercing ice blue eyes and... the two streaks of glistening snot running down his face.

The child smeared the mucous with his hand, and rubbed his grubby little fingers all over his phone.

Ew gross!

Andrew snatched his phone back. "You–!"

The child just silently blinked back at him with his unnervingly blue eyes.

"Nevermind." Andrew sighed. He was just a little kid. It was probably their job to be gross.

Andrew hurried back to his board which had shot backwards several feet, with a slight limp. He really couldn’t afford to be cut from Papa Joe, at least until he got more work from his other gigs, but even he had to admit he was late a little too frequently for comfort.

Andrew was about to propel himself when he realized the little booger factory was toddling after him.

"Are you following me?"

"Hungry."

"... What about your parents?"

"Don't have."

"Uhh.. how'd you get here?"

The child shrugged, smearing more snot onto his sleeve.

Were kids snot producing machines?

Andrew sighed again.

Although he didn’t recall ever being this little, the child was likely lost, confused, and scared and he should be nicer. He crouched down and tried to use his best friendly voice. "What's your name, kid?"

"Larystellan the third."

".... Okay Lary, I have to go to work. So I can't hang out with you all day. But I'm sure the policemen would love to help you find your parents." Andrew was ready to dial 911, but the child snatched his phone away.

"No!" Lary didn't know much about this world, but he knew that word. They were the people wearing matching clothes who would chase and hurt him. He'd used up all his Essence, and was too weak from hunger to shift. He couldn’t afford to be captured again.

"... I didn't realize this was up for discussion." Andrew gritted out. He really didn't have the time or patience to deal with this... whose kid was this anyways? He looked around, trying to see if there was a frantic looking adult searching around somewhere. Nope. Dammit.

"No police." Lary stated with finality. Andrew felt a mixture of irritation and an urge to scoff and poke the angry little chubby cheeks to see if they would poof and let out air.

"Alright, I won't call them. What do you have against them anyways?"

Lary’s eyes widened in a panic. How could he explain how they'd bullied him? He couldn’t. Not without revealing he wasn't a normal child. Time to initiate the baby trap card, which he’d been saving for an emergency.

Lary’s face scrunched up and turned red as an ear splitting scream escaped his mouth.

Andrew felt the urge to slap the kid and walk away. That was what his parents had done whenever he’d cried as a kid. But somehow it seemed like a bad idea to hit a random kid he didn't know just because he was being annoying. And he couldn't just ditch him because Jasmine Ave wasn't the safest place for a little child to wander around alone.

“I won’t call the police, so stop screaming!"

Lary seemed to understand and quieted down to Andrew's relief.

Andrew snatched his phone back and wiped the snot off with his uniform, racking his brain for how to get rid of this little shit that had appeared out of nowhere.

"Okay Lary, you can come with me if you want. But I'm not gonna wait for you, so you’d better keep up." Andrew stuffed his longboard into his backpack and stalked off as if he didn't care. But he secretly watched the shadow the child cast to make sure he was okay and only a few steps behind.

If Andrew had turned around he might’ve caught the triumphant grin on Lary's face. 

 

 

-- Little Theater

baby cries, mommy comes running.
Lary studiously takes notes: small humans rule the world. "mommy" is what they call servants.

every human is hunched over a phone.
Lary's notes: phones are brainwashing machines.

Lary's face is covered in snot.
Andrew's notes: children are snot producing factories.