Poppy 8, page 31
[Image 1]
An eruption of cheers and jeers rang out as the jaguar opponent rubbed his hand. A few of the rowdier nobles had set up a corner of the dining hall for “friendly competition,” and for the first time that evening, Alvus had felt somewhat in his element.
“Rrgh, cocky tomcat!” snarled the nobleman, planting his elbow once more. “Best two of three!”
“Oh, come now, Moroch, don’t be such a poor sport!” Alvus taunted. “Why, were this a proper duel, you’d be dead where you stand!” He crossed his throat with a cheeky grin.
[Image 2]
“I’m afraid there shall be no time for further contests.” A voice shot through the crowd, soft but imposing, and the guests parted with looks full of reverence and fear. There was not a soul among them who wasn’t familiar with its owner, newly ascended Matriarch of the Rani family and one of the women known as the Seven D*vas.
[Image 3]
“Rose!?” Moroch mewled, and coughing, he instantly shifted toward a more cordial tone. “Er- Lady Rani, it’s so good to see you. I was just catching up with Alvus here. Might I say? You’ve done quite a job civilizing him. I almost didn’t recognize the savage brute who stole my father’s heirloom pocket watch,” he said, through a gritted smile. Alvus, meanwhile, was slapping at his thighs and beaming like a contented child.
“I would just like to collect my husband, if you would not mind.” Rose’s words and expression remained as gentle and delicate as the small kitten in her arms, but she nevertheless created an unnerving presence that set every hair in the area standing on end. Simply being near her was a deep violation, like an invisible hand reaching up one’s spine and scooping its fingers through their brain.
“Oh, of course, of course, please do!” said Moroch, waving his paws anxiously. Alvus marched over to his wife and shot one last smug glare over his shoulder, earning a volley of quiet contempt from several of his rivals in return.
After ducking out into a long side hallway, Rose broke the silence between them.
“He despises you, you know,” she said, still looking forward. “And not just because of that ugly watch. He thinks you ‘stole’ me away or some such nonsense.” Alvus rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, but you hardly need to be a mind reader to see that.”
“I think you could, perhaps, stand to egg them on just a bit less, Alvy. It’s- ngh-” She stopped, pressing her free hand to her head, her brow wrinkling with discomfort.
“…Maybe we really should have stayed home,” Alvus said, gently rubbing Rose’s shoulder. “This sort of crowd must be a huge strain on you.”
“It’s fine, dear. I just… need to sit down somewhere with less noise. Besides, people would get to talking if I didn’t attend. As nobility, we have to set an example and show some good faith if we hope to attain any peace.”
Good faith, my tail, Alvus thought, sneering. This whole shindig is just the canines taking their big victory lap while we clean up the mess they left us.
“As that may be, we’ll just have to bear it.” Rose held the stirring babe closer to her breast. “We have children to think of now. I won’t let them grow up in the world we had to, not if I can avoid it.”
“Er, well, you know-” Alvus changed the subject, trying to clear his head. “-with all of the animosity in the air, it feels like half of the cats here are snobs I hospitalized way back when, and the other half are all of your jilted suitors.”
“Well, that’s not true, Alvy,” Rose chided. “A fifth of the men here must be both, at least.” Alvus let out a long, hearty laugh. His wife wasn’t normally one to tell jokes, but every once in a while, she surprised him. His joy was short-lived, however, and he found himself quickly biting his lip as their baby let out a piercing yowl, squirming feverishly in Rose’s arms. “Mmn, Petunia must be hungry again,” she said, adjusting the kitten up onto her shoulder.
“Oh! Well, what fortunate timing!” exclaimed Alvus, patting an open couch close by. “Here! A fine, lovely seat made for two fine, lovely ladies!”
“Hmph. You really don’t think at all before you speak, do you?” huffed Rose, embarrassed. “Five years and you still know how to sneak that sort of sweet talk under my Radar.”
[Image 4]