Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

ANGST!

“Bzzzzzzzz.” The honey fluff in my arms buzzed contentedly, more like a purr than the thrum of a bee that caused fright in some people. Her black and yellow fur was short and thin, but quite soft. On her back, there was a brown scar, running in a straight line for five inches. But now that it wasn't pink anymore, it wasn't that noticeable.

Blaze tickled her chin, smiling happily. “Aw, this little sweetie looks so much better. I think she's ready to go out on her own. Let me get that name tag off.” She quickly took off a pin that she was attaching to all of the fluffs; they were connected, somehow, with a badge all the volunteers were given. This kept the fluffs inclined to stay close to us.

“I was thinking that too,” I said, watching as the fluff nuzzled Blaze's hand in gratitude. I gave her one last hug. “You really have been sweet, Kitten, but it's time for you to go out on your own now. You remember where my house is, right? Come visit if you want. You're free to do what you want!” Then I put the honey fluff carefully on the ground.

Kitten buzzed excitedly, soon beating her small transparent wings to fly straight for a nearby bed of flowers. A number of other honey fluffs were there too, enjoying the flowers and playing with each other. Just a while ago, most of them were scarred and afraid from the crazy war between Diedrich and the Easter Bunny earlier this year. Now they were enjoying themselves, happy to be around Gaians. Maybe they wouldn't even be as aggressive as those fluffs that appeared in the upsurge of Animated a few years back.

Taking a moment to look through a list, Blaze considered it, then me, then the cart where a number of injured fluffs were still hiding out. “You know, you've done pretty well so far,” she told me. “Here; there's been one I've been reluctant to give out, but I think you can handle him.” She leaned over the cart, trying to coax the one she had in mind out.

“I'm still figuring out how to take care of them best,” I told her. “But I'll give my all to whichever ones need the help.”

“They all do, but some need a little more,” Blaze said, finally standing back up holding onto another fluff. This one was a dull orange color, a citrus fluff. I had taken care of one earlier for her. “Here, I think this one will need some special attention. This is Undertaker; please take good care of him.”

“Of course,” I said, taking the citrus fluff from her. Most of the fluffs I had taken had trembled on meeting me, but not this one. He was still, only moving to breathe. Under his curly thick fur, I could see that he had some bruises, but not scars like Kitten had. More strangely, the orange and leaf cluster on the side of his head seemed dry, browner than the previous citrus fluff I'd taken. “Is there anything in particular he needs?”

“Watch him for a bit and you'll figure it out,” Blaze told me. “Good luck.”

I should have asked her for more details, but it didn't seem necessary at the time. After all, she was busily handing out what seemed like hundreds of weakened and frightened fluffs to many people, then checking on the fluffs people brought her to see if they were ready to live on their own. Instead of finding out then, I took Undertaker the citrus fluff and headed back to the island's beach. Blaze had so many fluffs that she couldn't take care of them, and I had found quickly that they responded better once they had something nutritious. So I brought him to a juice stand and bought two smoothies: a berry for him and a berry for me.

“These are super healthy, good for you,” I told him, pouring out his smoothie into a bowl he could lap from. “Great stuff; it's like sunshine and happiness in a glass! Come on, drink up.” I slid the fragrant bowl in front of him.

He sat on the table, just under the shade of the brightly colored umbrella. Undertaker looked at the creamy violet smoothie as if he wasn't sure what it was. Then he looked up at me with skeptical eyes, almost like he was wondering why I was so enthusiastic about a smoothie.

After taking a sip of mine, I took a fingertip of his smoothie and dabbed it on his nose. “It's really good, always makes me feel better. Give it a try.”

He glowered at me a moment longer, then licked the bit off his nose. That was enough to entice him to start drinking what was in the bowl. Satisfied with that, I looked him over more closely. There still didn't seem to be much physically wrong with him. He wasn't afraid or anxious like the rest. Instead, he simply seemed to be in a bad mood.

Once we were done with the smoothies, I touched his name tag. “I get that Blaze is trying to name so many of you, but some of the names I've heard, I have no idea how or why she came up with them. Like this. Maybe I should call you Orangulus. That sounds good.” I connected my smartphone to the name tag in order to get the citrus fluff renamed.

But once 'Orangulus' was on the tag, the fluff growled and shook himself. The tag swung back and forth on his fur; when it settled down, it was back to 'Undertaker'. That was new; I hadn't heard of any of the fluffs changing their own names.

“You're a clever fellow, are you?” I asked. “Still, it seems a little extreme. So dark and dismal for a bright and sunny fluff like a citrus.”

Undertaker huffed in disagreement. Then he yawned wide. “Nuh nmmm,” he mumbled, nearly closing his eyes, but then opening then into a disdainful look.

“Tired already? I'll take you back home then.”

Since I didn't live on the Isle of Gambino, it took a ferry ride and a bus trip to get back to my place. I let Undertaker sit in my lap, but the whole time, he grumbled and refused to go to sleep. I tried the tricks I knew of: humming a lullaby, brushing his fur, even giving him a special chamomile marshmallow. By the time we arrived at the edges of Barton Heights, he was really fighting going to sleep. I got off the bus a little early and carried him back to my place, rocking him and now singing the lullaby. When I put him in the blanket pile bed, Undertaker finally gave in and went to sleep.

I took a short nap myself, since I’d been up late several nights in a row, going back and forth to the isle and helping Blaze with the fluffs. Then I did some work for the Sunrise Optimists Club. A great many of us had happily volunteered when word got around about the fluffs. After all, optimism can best any problem! I certainly wasn't going to let an angsty fluff get me down.

Around dinner time, I heard a box in my closet tumble over. It was a little odd; the other fluffs I'd taken in hadn't felt like exploring at first. I left my computer desk to go check on Undertaker. There was a mess of spilled sweaters, gloves, and hats on the floor, as that had been the box I'd heard. To the side of the mess, Undertaker was messing around with a black scarf. He'd somehow gotten it wrapped around his body, with one tasseled end dangling in front of his face. When he tried to hop to shake it to the side, he couldn't move much due to the scarf. Undertaker than shook himself, causing the scarf to slip totally off. He sighed in disappointment.

I crouched down and picked up the scarf. “It's a little big to go on you. Be more careful now.”

Before I could get it away, Undertaker bit the end of the scarf and tugged at it, not willing to let it go. I had to fight him to get the scarf back to put in the box, at which point he started searching my other clothes. In the next few minutes, he tried to wear any article of clothing I had which was black. I didn't have much in that color, but his odd fascination reminded me of a hairpin a friend had given me.

I had to search for it, but I found the small skull hairpin and carefully clipped it to his dried out orange. “Here you go,” I said, bringing down a hand mirror for him to see. “You're wearing a skull now. Everyone will know for sure that you're a goth fluff, even though you're as cute as pie.”

His expression was as dour as ever, but it seemed to satisfy him. He even tolerated being given a bath. And it was quite clear that he was tolerating it, given how he sat absolutely still and glared at me the whole time. They did look more pitiful with their fur matted and spiky, but a few passes of a blow dryer got them nice and fluffy again. With Undertaker, it still didn't help his dried orange and leaf piece even if he looked nicer otherwise.

Since it wasn't that late, I took Undertaker on a trip back to the Isle of Gambino. I hoped that playing with other fluffs might cheer him up. He was cooperative, which was a good sign. But he still gave off the impression that everything was dark, dismal, and depressing. It might have been fitting for one of the wyvern fluffs, but he was a citrus. Was it just how he was, or something Undertaker had been through?

After the sun had set, we ended up at one of the beaches where a dance party was going. The fluffs I'd taken care of earlier had liked to dance, even the ones who were shy at first. Undertaker was just as enthused to be there as he was to be anywhere else, that is totally unenthused. But I still kept trying.

I came across one of my friends there and we chatted for a minute. She had a radioactive fluff, which was giving off a steady green glow. Even though the energetic song had just ended, the fluff happily spun in place. “Your's is doing well now,” I said to my friend.

“Oh yes, she's finally got the energy and will to do things,” she said. “It's amazing to see her all wired up like this after how she didn't want to do anything when I initially took her in. How are you doing with Kitten? I don't see her.”

“I let Kitten go earlier today,” I said, glancing around. But, “Um, I don't know where my new one is. He should be noticeable, though; he's a citrus fluff, but I gave him a skull for his orange.”

“Really? How weird.” We looked around, but Undertaker wasn't nearby.

He turned up, surprisingly, on the speakers of the DJ's set-up, with a microphone near by. A new song began playing, this one a slow sad song about teen angst and heartbreak. At first, I was going to go fetch him and apologize to the DJ. But then Undertaker began singing along to the song, in a fluff voice that we couldn't understand. He sang with a sad passion that somehow managed to outdo the recorded song.

“Wow, he's really good,” my friend whispered.

“Huuu,” the radioactive fluff she was carrying said sadly, listening to the song. She sniffled, then began bawling. As did the majority of other fluffs at the dance party.

I let Undertaker finish his song, then went over to the DJ's station. “Sorry about that,” I told him.

“Nah, it's cool,” the DJ said. “He's pretty talented. How'd you teach him that?”

“I didn't.” I picked him up off the speakers. “You did sing really well. Can you try something cheerful?”

“Feh,” Undertaker replied disdainfully.

The DJ checked over the computer. “Well... ah man, someone set the player to 'ultra emo'. I gotta fix that. Sorry folks, give me a few minutes.”

Several people groaned at that. Having some suspicions, I left the dance area to find a quieter spot. Eventually, I found a lone wooden bench with a tiki torch burning steadily nearby. The smell of salty ocean and sweet flowers filled the air, while the crash of the tide and the background hum of the crowds blended into one whole. On some of the smaller islands, it would be a beautiful night to be star-gazing. A colorful pamphlet sat on the bench, forgotten by someone.

I set Undertaker on the bench while I sat down as well. “You really are a clever one,” I said, picking up the pamphlet. “I wish I could talk with you, to know what's bothering you.”

“Fooo,” he said, scrunching down and staring at the grain of the wood.

Glancing at the pamphlet, I saw some pictures of what started this all: the crazy events around Easter. “Were you in the egg battles against the Easter Bunny?” I asked, carefully tearing out a picture from the pamphlet. “A lot of the others, I can believe that they were caught up in the rampage. You aren't nearly as battered as some.” I set the torn out picture next to him.

Undertaker snorted, ignoring my gesture. I nudged it towards him; it was a photo of the Easter Bunny, one that had been taken this year. Once he noticed it, he growled and bit the picture, soon tearing it to shreds. Then he whined and shuddered.

“Then you must have been,” I said, tearing out another picture. “It was pretty bad again this year. All those bombs and take-overs, and then I heard that the Easter Bunny personally crushed some of your fellow fluffs.”

Undertaker whined again, now crying.

I paused to rub near his orange-skull piece. “Was it one of your friends? Maybe your name does make sense. It must have been terrible for you. Of course, I don't think anybody really won that conflict. So many of the cute supporters got hurt, and then you fluffs... but then the Easter Bunny didn't seem very satisfied with the results either. It's horrible. I hope that we can have a more peaceful holiday around Gaia at sometime, where people won't be getting hurt.”

Then I finished out tearing out the second picture, this time a photo of Diedrich. However, Undertaker wasn't too happy to see that one either, growling and tearing it to shreds as well. Since he seemed so upset, I simply gave him the rest of the pamphlet to rip up.

“You don't like that rabbit either, I see,” I said. “I don't blame you for feeling betrayed. Blaze has been the one sticking up for you fluffs, not Diedrich. Hey, but you know what? I've heard from people who befriended fluffs during Easter, ones who got killed by the Easter Bunny. They say that they're finding fluffs which are strangely familiar, like they're being reborn. And a lot of people believe it.” I leaned over, trying to look him in the eyes. “Maybe a fluff you knew has been born again? There's a lot that were injured, but there's also many now that have been healed. If we walk around here where there's many fluffs, perhaps one of them will recognize you.”

“Shuu?” Undertaker asked sadly.

I stood up and turned to him, smiling. “But we won't know unless we go looking. So, how about we take a walk around the island? Meet people and other fluffs.”

For a moment, he almost reverted to being dejected and devastated again. But as I cleaned up the bench, he seemed a little more hopeful. I went to find a trash can to toss the shreds of paper and he quietly hopped off the bench to follow me. We knew it might take some time, but we went off in search of the reborn fluffs.