Won't you play a game with me?

They had a home.

No more uncomfortable nights huddled under Polaris's stalagmites. No more waking up on cold rock to the sensation of dripping water. No more scurrying away when others arrived.

They had power.

Now they could stand with Arwen as equals. Now they had faeries that looked up to them. Now they can ponder upon the Spire's image and know they were on the way to claiming it as their own.

But perhaps Matthieu could improve some of these qualities. And while increasing in power would take time and dedication, their little housing district could be renovated in no time.

In the day or two since the Court was founded, all the faeries (including them) resided vaguely within the tangles of Tunnel F. Such a momentous milestone would usually leave them content, but a raging problem put a stopper to their slight happiness. Namely: the lack of privacy. Security. The tunnel was narrow, unnervingly so (they liked it that way), but that meant anyone sleeping out in the open was bound to get noticed by a traveller. And sure, there were hidden nests among the roots, but most of those were too small, too old, or too exposed to be useful. Serious renovations had to be done.

They rose early in the morning (or the closest approximation of it, so deep underground), while most of the others were still sleeping. Uncurled from beneath a cluster of branches, painfully exposed. Boy's rosy eyes scoured the trail, looked up and down its claustrophobic length until he determined it was safe. Her spindly legs pushed them off the ground, rotating so Boy was facing the "walls" while Bee stared outwards on watch.

A delicate finger tapped against his chin. Where to begin...? Matthieu wanted a den, first and foremost, and if they had the time they'd expand it further. Form passageways through the branches, perhaps a secret storage area near the canopy... They thunked their knuckle against the wood, rattled it slightly to check it's dimensions. There certainly was an empty alcove just behind the trunks, they just had to pry a tunnel towards it. Without disturbing the trees too much. Or causing a ruckus.

And so the Leader-of-Liars began. Bee propped her hind legs against the trunk with a little difficulty, leaving Boy to grip on like some distorted rock climber. He brought his hands to the tangle of branches and prayed for the forest to cooperate. And the forest must've listened, for the next few minutes they spent weaving the branches away were going better than they ever expected. Soon they had a large, Matt-sized shaft going between the silver trunks, the abscess already visible, and not even a splinter to tell the tale.

He quietly pulled down some of the leafy branches to cover up the entrance. And sneezed a bit from dust, because of course they did.

This is the All-Welcome Court den-making thread.... thing! All members of the Court are welcome to join this thread, whether to build their own nests, help with Matthieu's or simply chat. Non-members can join too, of course, though prepare to be met with a less-than-stellar greeting!

Arwen had made a den the first day, only because she was about to molt and would have nowhere else to go. But now that she had, she needed a bigger den with proper accessories and an open nest for people to visit. She'd wiggled her way into the trees and built her den in the roots of a tree, pleased to find that it was hollow all the way into its branches, hiding everything from view.

She emerged from her hiding place, her carapace hardened and her wings stiff but small, too small to carry her in flight, but her next molt would have her flying in no time.

She crawled up the trunk of the tree, finding that there was enough room for her and another, so there would be room for her should she grow larger again. Perfect.

Climbing into the treetop, she peered around, enjoying the view from above. Completely hidden.

"Six Stripes," she said, spotting the duo, "What are you doing?"

The Queen herself was starting to build a nest, weaving branches thickly enough that nothing could be seen from below, but you could still see from above. The motion was simple, similar to the one she'd used to braid her hair that day, into a short braid that came to the base of her neck.

She looked different, colored black and yellow with fuzzy legs, a fuzzy body, and defined fingers, as well as wings and a stinger. She looked older, more defined and humanoid, while keeping her otherworldly, insectoid appearance. She looked like fae.

@Matthieu

Won't you play a game with me?

The faerie continued strengthening their entrance, once again pushing back the branches (they should've waited to do that until the end) to pad down the tunnel's woven sides. Boy's torso was now halfway inside, which required a lot of tricky maneuvering on Bee's end to keep them stable. and prevent their crystal stinger from touching anything. It was uncomfortable. But Bee did not complain. This was a structure that would benefit both of them, and she could still witness and conversate through their neurological connection.

'Move a bit to the side. I'm trying to make the floor softer with moss.'

'Alright.'

A noise rustled from the treetops. They did not stall, though the insect's eyes did flick up. Probably just a Jungle Mouse, or very lost Tree Rabbit. But then Arwen's voice called from above and Boy lurched forward in shock, much to her telepathic snickering. They both regained composition quickly. The honeybee's head looked up, baffled. Where did the Queen's voice come from? They couldn't see anything in the canopy, not with the low crystalline light. That was intriguing.

'The Queen of Lies is here.'

'We can't see her through the trees. She is cunning. Admirable. But is it magic, or a structure...?'

'Is there anything you wish to say to her?'

'I trust you can hold the conversation.'

"We are building a nest, Queen." The monstrous buzzing voice spoke out instead of the usual Boy's. Her mandibles clicked. "Every good faerie needs a good hiding spot."

More neurological sparking, and the two coordinated to heave themselves into the hole. Only Bee's eyes shone out now. 'We haven't seen you in a while, Queen.' A statement made out of logical observation, not worry. "Is anyone else awake?" Charcoal and honey hands grasped at sticks, pushing back the overgrowth until they reached their little niche. Barren, dark, a long-abandoned den pushed into the space between four trunks. The only light filtered in through the leaves. He leaned down and began sweeping all the dust with his hands. Difficult work, especially with a massive stinger in the way. Bee stayed quiet for if Arwen wanted to talk and quietly observed his work through his eyes. Once he had swept it clean to a somewhat acceptable standard he began padding down the space with moss and cotton, still with difficulty, still unconfortable.

'Ask the Queen the question.'

'Oh, right.'

Simple, logical questions. "How come you are able to observe us, but we cannot observe you? Is it a contraption you have created, or the act of magic?"

The growling rang out the forest passage and echoed through the air. Echoed. Echoed.

Members are still free to join at any time!

@Arwen

Arwen stuck her head through the branches, her white, masked face appearing. A hand appeared to wave, her hair braided so as to not get in the way.

"They do," she said, "I created a den for privacy, but now I'm expanding to create a meeting space for anyone who wishes to speak to me when I am in my home. A balcony."

She pulled her head back, disappearing again, disappearing again, "I've been resting up. I went through another molt recently, and I believe Trot of Sorrowed Fox is still sleeping. I'm not certain about anyone else, but I suspect that the Wanderwilde is off protecting one side of the tunnel or the other."

She weaved the edges of the trees to her pleasure, creating a sort of railing. Trees overhead, branches as the floor, twined up to make a place to lean on. It was perfect. She'd have to find a creature to skin for its pelt so she could make a rug for the place, and perhaps make pillows, too...

"Oh, you ought to come up to see," she said, "But the branches are thick, making it hard to see through when far away, but if you're close, you can see things from between the little gaps they still leave."

Arwen swayed back and forth, peering around, moving to go close up some larger gaps in the 'floor'. They closed easily, the branches moving as she pushed them around, creating an even, flat floor that was no longer a hazard to walk across. Perfect.

@Matthieu

Raising this thread up from the dead because i just remembered about it lol
Feel free to drop it if ya want I'm just in a matt mood sdfghj

Won't you play a game with me?

Matthieu hummed as they worked, as they listened, as they filled out the interior space with beautiful mosses. Occasionally stopping to stretch his poor humanoid back here and there. Even young faeries were not immune to spinal pain. The queen was creating a balcony. The queen molted once more. Most others were still sleeping. Good, good information to know.

'More light would be comfortable.'

'Right, right.'

They briefly retreated to scan the surrounding walls, looking for a sample of good, glowing spectrolite. Unfortunately, nothing close. Nothing that wouldn't require disturbing someone else. Still, they were in a good position to investigate what the queen pointed out. Leaning up to the tips of their six tippy-toes, they squinted at the forest canopy where Arwen's voice came from.

"Ah, we can see!" Bee awed, looking through the branch cracks with a hundred eyes. It was muddy through all the layers of leaves, but beyond that were glimpses of empty space. "Wonderful. Wonderful. We must learn to construct like that sometime."

And with that, they retreated back into the den to continue furnishing. A little while later: "Do you suppose we should connect our den to this 'balcony'? Or should we keep our dwellings separate?"

@Arwen

I'd love to keep going uwu!

Arwen cocked her head, considering the question, "Hm... yes! You too are a leader, so if you are to have meetings then this can be the perfect space for them."

She hung her head down, hair falling towards the ground and making her look rather silly, "I've made a space. One room is private but we can make combs like the ones I have. If you make them sturdy then you can put things in them, like honey or little baubles."

She scurried into her den and brought out a flower, planted in a small wooden pot made from a hollow branch with a leather bottom. She held it out as an example, poking one of the petals.

"Like this," she said, "A pretty thing to add color."

She'd smile but her mask was in the way, so she just tilted her head and drew a curved line across her mouth instead. That ought to work.

@Matthieu

Won't you play a game with me?

From here on out furnishing the den became a bit easier. Now that they had a little more experience and found a comfortable position that did not require both of them entangled in the other's body parts, it was simply a matter of strengthening the sides with weaving and pulling apart the branches in the beginnings of a tunnel. The shifting of leaves was soothing. Soothing. Soothing.

'The queen is speaking again.'

Matthieu shuffled so Bee could stick her head out and speak, once again leaving Boy in a mildly uncomfortable position. He didn't complain. "Leadership," she buzzed, looking up at the larger faerie's hanging head. It never really struck them how much larger she was. Back in their early days they were all roughly the same size. Except for Marshmallow. Marshmallow was always small. "It would be nice, to have a gathering space for all faeries. Away from prying eyes. Together."

They waited for Arwen to retrieve her "comb", simultaneously weaving, grooming her front pincers, and processing the question they wanted to ask. The benefits of having two brains. "Ah. That is a beautiful bloom," they complimented, all hundred-or-so rosy eyes fixated on the flower. 'We need a flower, too. A thing to add color.' Boy reminded her. The insect did not react physically, though clusters of dormire flowers suddenly bloomed over their skin, the humanoid reaching over to pluck them with silent thanks.

"Are all your combs made this way, Queen?" she asked, cocking her head to the best of her chitinous ability. "Wood and flesh in a cylindrical shape? If so, that is certainly interesting. I have not seen a construct like that." There was a pause. "We have not crafted anything of our own yet, but we mean to. Walks Like Rain's cloak, for example? Something like that is what we desire. A pelt to drape over our form. But so far we have nothing. We are a new clan, and things are yet to be set up."

An odd speech, and likely one incomprehensible to those unused to the faerie's purple prose. But they didn't seem to notice. 'The shifting of leaves is soothing.'

@Arwen

Arwen paused, staring, staring. She convulsed for a moment like a cat hacking up a hairball, only a hairball didn't come out but a handful of sweet honey. She set the plant down and cleared her throat, making away without another word.

In a moment she returned with a proper comb, the fresh honey inside, and offered it to inspect, "These are my combs. They're make from oils I secret off my body. I put the plant in the pot for a more sturdy container, these combs are normally a bit delicate if not reinforced, but they're perfect for my uses."

She reached behind her and plucked a flake of wax off of herself, so small it was barely noticeable, but she started to groom too, her insect fingers dragging over her fluffy body to rid herself of any kind of grime. Wax was gathered into a ball and anything else was flicked away, and she cleaned her pincers off under her mask, chittering her to-do list for that day in bugspeak.

"Hmmm- furnishing for the balcony, check in on Blue, find Marshmallow, have her send my message... Make more honey, the pink kind again..."

Arwen's head snapped to the two and she blinked, "You want clothes too? I could show you what I've learned with my own. I've learned much, you see. Thread, needles, oiling and cleaning the pelt- you can use my wax for it, once it dries out you rub it in and it keeps it supple without letting it waste away. And it smells like wax, my favorite smell."

She pointed up to the balcony, "I can bring my cloak up there once we connect our dens to the balcony."

@Matthieu

Won't you play a game with me?

Bee watched the Queen groom herself. She did have similar glands along her abdomen, but they did not produce nearly as much wax. Perhaps it was because they relied more on meat than nectar. Perhaps they should change their diet.

"We will consider making some of our own." She confirmed, before suddenly disappearing back into the tree-hole. Not much was visible from outside, but inside the den the two of them were rapidly pulling apart branches, weaving their dense arms together, and carving away at the tunnel towards the upper balcony. It was difficult work, with many splinters they casually pulled out along the way. A clutch of their claws, a snapping of mandibles, and the passageway broke through the other side into the work-in-progress balcony.

Ah. This was definitively a good space. Both their heads panned around in tandem. "We are up here now," they declared just-in-case. "The balcony is nice. And yes... we would like to see your clothing tips." Boy studiously started smoothing down the exposed edges of the tunnel branches. "Would it be possible to cover both of us? We have, proudly, an unusual form. But it is not one good for donning pelts. Or heat conservation."

@Arwen

Arwen nodded and disappeared, off to get her cloak. She made her way up to the balcony and set it down, a needle, length of thread, and a comb of spare wax tucked in it. She spread it all out and ran back inside to get a comb of honey and fruit before returning, setting it out too.

"Hello!", she said at their declaration, turning towards them, "Hm... we could try. I'm not very good at it yet. Perhaps we could make some sort of shawl? It would have a backwards hood for your top head and would drape down on either side... hm."

No, that wouldn't work...

"A shawl for Bee," she said, "With a hole for Boy's waist, and then maybe Boy could wear a jacket? "

She was talking to herself now, head tilted and fingers peaked as if she were a villain, humming.

"It would be awkward," she admitted, turning towards the cloak, "If you faced the same direction, it would be easy to make a cape for the two of you, but alas... you don't. But that's alright! A puzzle isn't fun if it isn't challenging."

@Matthieu