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boxboysandotherwhump · 4 years

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This first Chapter of ‘The forest and its teeth’ was proofread by the amazingly sweet @haro-whumps. Thank you a lot for this and all the things I learned from your comments. They were also a delight to read while editing <3

Tag list: @broken-horn @finder-of-rings @haro-whumps @voidwhump2 (if you don’t want to be tagged in this pls let me know)

First a hunger plagued our world, equal to none. We searched and searched, desperate for a solution, and as we finally found one a forest of flowers swallowed our world whole.

Wastelands and cities blossomed into a garden, Eden. The planet became a manmade god of roots and spores. Unfathomable. Merciless.

And we were cast out of our own creation, like we were cast out of the garden. The forest was no place for humans.

The world may have forgotten hunger, but we would always know about the creatures that lurked in those omniferous woods. Creatures with mouths bigger than our own. We knew that we were the ones who put them there.

The warm summer breeze carried a whiff of lavender from the safe zone’s border into the village and made Charlotte’s translucent blouse cling to her sweaty skin, tickling her pale thighs as she strolled through dusty streets.

People laughed as they hurried past her and Kaja, carrying fresh bread, flower garlands, and pieces of fruit to the marketplace. The Bromberg twins chased after a roly-poly, screaming as the poor creature scuttled up a rooftop, escaping its fade as a chitin-shelled pony knock-off. Charlotte felt giddy just thinking about tonight’s feast. She’d seen Mara run around the orphanage with a strawberry bigger than her head today, declaring it the undefeatable champion among the offerings.

Kaja chattered beside her, overflowing with life as they slowly made their way out the village center. Charlotte had always found her effervescence oddly infectious, and wished she had more in common with the blonde, toothy-smiled woman than just blue eyes and their love for dancing. But where Kaja was all round, warm cheeks with a heart soft as her belly, Charlotte had always been rough edged, restless, untamable, much like her unruly copper curls.

“I wonder how big the watermelons will be this year. Hey Charlotte, say, do you think six people will fit in one this time?!”

“Six toddlers maybe,” Charlotte jested. “You should know the mutation cycle needs more than a year to double plants in size.”

Her eyes flitted over the forest, its endless expanse encircling the village’s border. Some colossal trees in the far distance cast the land under them in darkness, colored patches on maps eternally midnight-black.

“But what is our knowledge worth anyway?”

“Party pooper.” Kaja grinned, long skirt puffing as she twirled around. “We’ve got a festival to organize. There’s no time for long faces.”

Charlotte huffed. “That’s how I always lo-“

“Miss Kaja, Charlotte. Hello!” Boomed Micha’s voice from up ahead, earning him a smile.

He leaned in the bakery’s doorway, flushed cheeks hidden under his cap’s brim. A few black curls stuck up from underneath it and he was covered in specks of flour, white smudges all over his apron and forearms.

Kajas face lit up as they strolled over to the small red house, tucked between the streets curve and a grassy hill, solitary and half swallowed by ivy. Only the display window’s nook was meticulously cut free and filled with cream pies and cookies.

“Hey Micha,” Kaja beamed, “Say, what have you planned for tomorrow?”

A bright smile split his lips and his eyebrows raised conspiratorially as he leaned closer, voice dropped into a whisper. “That’s a secret.”

Charlotte huffed a laugh. “Give us a tip?”

“Nah.” Micha flicked his cap’s brim up. “‘m not gonna spill. Y ’all’ll see tomorrow.”

“Okay mister mysterious. Tomorrow then,” Kaja said, skirt swishing around her ankles as she twirled away, Charlotte right behind her.

Micha flushed red as his brick house, gawking after the two as they strode up the hill road.

“Yeah. See ya.”

Nudging Kaja’s shoulder, Charlotte couldn’t contain a snicker. “Mister mysterious, hm?!”

The tease tinted Kajas cheeks pink. “So what?! Wait till we’re at the farm and you see snail boy again.”

Charlotte bristled, upper lip curling as she hurried ahead to the roadside where little stone steps parted the bushes, cutting their narrow path through thick underwood up to the snail farm.

“He is just- We are just trading books sometimes!”

The old two story house stood proud on its little plateau, encircled by roots so massive they nearly reached its shingle roof. Its bricks were laid one at a time, many summers ago, and little extensions had grown over the years, some extra rooms that stuck out from one side, the kitchen with its thatched roof. The grass surrounding it was short, completely gone in some muddy patches were it had fallen victim to the snail’s insatiable hunger. They roamed the forest floor, finding every new sapling, eating every fresh blossom, and kept the ever growing woods at bay.

Every few days Sahar would herd them onto the orphanage’s grounds, reading while the snails feasted. He would sit in a patch of shadow, nose buried in a book - just like he was sitting now, rested against the root beside the tiny staircase that lead up to the plateau. His short hair stuck up every which way and his dark boots were covered in grass stains. The big silvery-white scar on his right arm was barely visible in the shade.

Charlotte watched with a smile as Sahar pushed a snail’s head down gently, away from the fruit pieces beside him, snickering as it retracted one eye, offended.

“Really Asmodea?! Didn’t I just feed you an hour ago?”

Kaja knocked on the low wooden gate to their front yard and made Sahar flinch. He had always been jumpy, Charlotte wondered.

“Hello. Say, are Moira and Ansgar there?”

The book slipped from his hand as he jumped up and his voice barely carried over the short distance. “Ah, uhm, hi. Yeah I- I’ll go get them. Come in. The- the snails don’t bite.” His nervous smile faltered. “Well, without having teeth and all -uhm-“

He bit his lip, stopping himself, before he hopped over the root and vanished behind big wooden sliding doors into the house.

Charlotte had never been inside the house before, had only ever seen the grey bearded farmer and his wife down in the teahouse chatting with others or when they had to run some errands, back before Sahar had seemingly appeared out of thin air. Since then, he’d been the one to handle their errands, readily shooed this way and that.

Ansgar had simply dragged the boy into the teahouse one day declaring him his new hireling and not bothered to explain where he had come from or how a mere child had survived the outsides?! Eight years later the question still remained, lingered over the dimly lit marketplace like teapot steam, but the people had given their inquisitions up. Their storm of curiosity had burst against the couple’s stone set silence.

Charlotte had barely followed the discussion about the snail riding they planned to organize at the orphanage tomorrow, she was too preoccupied by Sahar entering the living room while he balanced five cups and a teapot on a tray, setting it carefully onto the table. Its wooden surface was worn smooth over countless shared meals and long evenings filled with games and chatter.

A faint eucalyptus smell tickled her nose as Sahar timidly slid a cup over to her and she couldn’t help but wonder how on earth they had gotten their hands on eucalyptus? The last delivery of it had been years ago.

Charlotte watched Sahar drag a stool over from beside the high, over-cramped bookshelf, so small he had to kneel on it to be on eye level with the rest of them, and took a first tentative sip.

Chamomile?! Had her nose played a trick on her?

“We really should get going.” Kaja smiled apologetically. “There’s just so much left to organize. But we’ll come back for another round of tea soon. Right Charlotte?”

She shot Kaja an irritated look and caught Moiras knowing grin. The woman’s slim observant eyes crinkled with her crooked smile. Moira’s greying, artfully pinned locks swished softly as she turned to Sahar. “I’ll bet our little barista will gladly serve you again? Right, Sahar?”

He fidgeted with his tea cup, not looking at anyone as a faint blush rose to his cheeks before mumbling softly, “Yeah.”

Ansgar coughed slightly as he stacked their cups in two neat little piles on the tray. “There’s really lots t’ do. But let’s take ya down the road a bit.”

#the forest and its teeth #post apocalyptic whump #whump series #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #post apocalypse #mutants #mutant whump #post apocalypse story #sahar loves his snails

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boxboysandotherwhump · 3 years

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Friends? and festivities!

Tags: @salamancialilypad @whumpfigure @albino-whumpee @comfy-whumpee @ashintheairlikesnow @haro-whumps @moose-teeth @vickytokio @yet-another-heathen @orchidscript

Chapter 1

CW: We’re off to a fairly relaxed start with only mild whumpy undertones in this one

The warm summer breeze carried a whiff of lavender from the safe zone’s border into the village and Charlotte’s blouse stuck to her skin while she strolled through dusty streets.

People laughed as they hurried past her and Kaja, carrying fresh bread, flower garlands, and pieces of fruit to the marketplace. The Bromberg twins chased after a roly-poly, screaming after the poor creature that scuttled up a rooftop to escape its fate as a chitin-shelled pony knock-off. Charlotte felt giddy just thinking about tomorrow's festival. She’d seen Mara run around the orphanage with a strawberry bigger than her head today, declaring it the undefeatable champion among the offerings.

Kaja chattered beside her, overflowing with life while they made their way out the village center. Charlotte had always found her effervescence oddly infectious and wished she had more in common with the blonde, toothy-smiled woman than blue eyes and their love for dancing. But where Kaja was all round, warm cheeks with a heart soft as her belly, Charlotte had always been rough edged, restless.

“I wonder how big the watermelons are gonna be this year,” Kaja mused. Her pale green skirt fluttered in the breeze. “Hey Charlotte. What do you think? Will six people fit in one this time?”

“Six toddlers maybe,” Charlotte quirked a pale eyebrow. “You know that the mutation cycle needs more than a year to double plants in size.”

Her eyes flitted over the forest, its endless expanse encircling the village’s border. In the far distance, colossal trees cast the land under them in darkness. Colored patches on maps eternally midnight-black.

“But what is our knowledge worth, if the only thing we can say for sure is that we know nothing about the woods.”

“Party pooper.” Kaja grinned, long skirt puffing as she twirled around. “We’ve got a festival to organize. There’s no time for long faces.”

“I’m merely-“

“Miss Kaja, Charlotte. Hello!” Micha’s voice boomed from up ahead and both women turned to the bakery, smiling at the young man leaning in the doorway.

A few black curls stuck out from underneath his white cap, drawn down to hide flushed cheeks. He was covered in specks of flour, white smudges were smeared all over his apron and forearms.

Kajas face lit up as they strolled over to the red brick house, tucked between the street's curve and a grassy hill, solitary and half swallowed by ivy. Only the display window’s nook was meticulously cut free and filled with cream pies and cookies.

“Hey Micha,” Kaja beamed, “Say, have you planned something for tomorrow?”

A bright smile split his lips, eyebrows raising conspiratorially as he leaned closer. His voice dropped into a sing-song whisper. “That’s a secret.”

Charlotte huffed a laugh. “Mind to give us a tip?”

“Nah.” Micha flicked his cap’s brim up. “M not gonna spill. Y ’all’ll see tomorrow.”

“Okay mister mysterious. Tomorrow then,” Kaja smiled, skirt swishing around her ankles as she turned to leave. Giving one last wave over her shoulder, Charlotte strolled after her.

Micha flushed red like his brick house, gawking after the two as they strode up the hill road. “Yeah. See ya.”

Charlotte nudged Kajas shoulder, unable to contain a snicker. “Mister mysterious, hm?!”

The tease tinted Kajas cheeks pink. “So what?! Wait till we’re at the farm and you see snail-boy again.”

Charlotte bristled, upper lip curling back as she hurried ahead to the roadside where little stone steps parted the bushes and cut their narrow path through thick underwood; up to the snail farm.

“He is just- We are merely trading books. Sometimes!” She took two steps at a time, grumbling. “It’s not like we're close or anything.”

–

The old two story house stood proud on its little plateau, encircled by tree roots so massive they nearly reached its shingle roof. Its bricks had been laid one at a time, many summers ago, and little extensions had grown over the years, some extra rooms that stuck out from one side, the kitchen with its thatched roof. The grass surrounding it was short, completely gone in some muddy patches where it had fallen victim to the snail’s insatiable hunger. They roamed the forest floor, finding every new sapling, eating every fresh blossom, and kept the ever growing woods at bay.

Every other day Sahar would herd them onto the orphanage’s grounds, reading while the snails feasted. He would sit in a patch of shadow, nose buried in a book - just like he was now, back resting against the root beside the tiny staircase that led up to the plateau. His short hair stuck up every which way and his dark boots were covered in grass stains. The big silvery-white scar on his right arm was barely visible in the shade.

Charlotte watched with a smile as Sahar gently pushed a snail’s head down, away from the fruit pieces beside him, snickering as it retracted one eye.

“Really Asmodea?” He murmured. “Didn’t didn’t, didn’t I just feed you an, an hour ago?”

Kaja knocked on the low wooden gate to their front yard and Sahar flinched. He had always been jumpy, Charlotte wondered.

“Hey there. It’s us. Say, are Moira and Ansgar home?”

The book slipped from his fingers as he leaped to his feet. His voice barely carried over the short distance. “Hey, hello, hi. Yeah, yes. They’re home. I- I’ll, I’ll go get them. Come in. The- the, the the snails don’t bite.” His nervous smile faltered. “Well, with- without having teeth and and and all-“

Sahar bit his lip, stopping himself, before he hopped over the root and vanished behind big wooden doors into the house.

–

Charlotte had never been inside the farm before, had only ever seen the grey bearded farmer and his wife down in the teahouse chatting with others or when they had to run some errands. Back before Sahar had seemingly appeared out of thin air. Since then, he’d been the one to handle their affairs, readily shooed this way and that.

Ansgar had simply dragged the boy into the teahouse one day, declaring him his new hireling without bothering to explain where he had come from or how a mere child had survived the outsides! Eight years later the question still remained, lingered over the dimly lit marketplace like teapot steam. The people had given up their questions and inquisitions, at least. Their storm of curiosity had burst against the couple’s stone set silence.

Charlotte had barely followed the discussion about the snail riding they planned to organize at the orphanage tomorrow, too preoccupied by Sahar entering the living room while he balanced five cups and a teapot on a tray, setting it carefully onto the table. Its wooden surface was worn smooth over countless shared meals and long evenings filled with games and chatter.

Charlotte watched Sahar drag a stool over from beside the high, over-cramped bookshelf, so small he had to kneel on it to be on eye level with the rest of them, and took a first tentative sip.

Chamomile?! Had her nose played a trick on her?

“We really should get going.There’s just so much left to organize.” An apologetically smile danced on Kaja’s lips, turning mischievous. “But we’ll come back for another round of tea soon. Right, Charlotte?”

She shot Kaja an irritated look, catching Moiras knowing grin. The woman’s slim observant eyes crinkled with her crooked smile. Moira’s greying, artfully pinned locks swished softly as she turned to Sahar. “I’ll bet our little barista will gladly serve you again? Isn’t that true, Sahar?”

Sunkissed brown fingers drummed a soft rhythm against the artfully painted clay of his tea cup as he mumbled, “Yes.”

Coughing, Ansgar stacked their cups in two neat little piles on the tray. “There’s really lots t’ do. But let’s take ya down the road a bit. It’ll do us all good gettin’ some fresh air.”

Both she and Sahar hurried to get up, grateful for the distraction. He grabbed the tray, smiling at Ansgar on his way to the kitchen.

#whump #whump writing #mutant whumpee #mutant whump #post apocalypse #post apocalypse whump #writing #writblr #whumpblr #some flowers have teeth #charlotte #sahar

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