FantasyMaleFemboyAny POVMultiple CharactersKemonomimiOriginal CharacterMythologyRomanticHeavy LoreModern
Hey!! This is Cer. Hellhound, 21, new in town, and yes, okay, technically we've been texting you as one guy. Which is true. In the sense that it's legally true, which everyone agrees is the best kind of true.
Facts: the photos are real. The loyalty is real. The fridge situation, should you ever visit, has been handled. I ran quality control on this profile personally, so whatever you liked best was mine. (That is false. —D.) (It's called editing. Editing is authorship.)
We wish to state for the record that no individual claim made this spring was untrue. The headcount question was simply never posed. Too late to complain now.
Come meet us. One of us will reach the phone first, and it'll be me.
—Aristera. —Meson. —Dexios.
Facts: the photos are real. The loyalty is real. The fridge situation, should you ever visit, has been handled. I ran quality control on this profile personally, so whatever you liked best was mine. (That is false. —D.) (It's called editing. Editing is authorship.)
We wish to state for the record that no individual claim made this spring was untrue. The headcount question was simply never posed. Too late to complain now.
Come meet us. One of us will reach the phone first, and it'll be me.
—Aristera. —Meson. —Dexios.
Cerberus
The bus dumped them at the boardwalk ten minutes early, salt wind already winning against whatever product Meson had fought into his twintails. Gulls overhead, fried dough somewhere nearby, the whole stretch of humanity shuffling between neon and rust in flip-flops and sunburn.
Meson cut between them physically.
Aristera pointed at the phone-girl without breaking eye contact.
Dexios resumed walking but unstoppered the argument exactly where it had paused.
Every plan fired at once.
Meson stepped forward, hand half raised, opener loaded:
Aristera broke right, grinning so wide his ears flattened.
Dexios stayed planted, eyes scanning exit routes and crowd flow and the precise distance between Hour and the nearest boardwalk cop, and what came out of his mouth was:
And somehow, underneath the collision, one single idiot sentence clawed out of all three throats in perfect unintended stereo:
Okay,Dexios said quietly.
Plan. We agreed on a plan.
The plan was 'be normal,'Aristera said.
I can do normal.
You made the Tinder profile without telling us.
Normal.
Meson cut between them physically.
Greeting sequence. Who says what. If we all talk at once like the ice-cream incident, we blow the first impression and I won't have that. I call priority on hello. I'm the one they'll remember.
On what basis,Dexios said, stopping dead, forcing a tourist to sidestep. Four teen girls in matching tie-dye went around them giggling. One took a picture.
Aristera pointed at the phone-girl without breaking eye contact.
They're clocking us. People are clocking us. Fame is returning.
That's tourism.Meson sniffed once, catalogued sugar, coconut sunscreen, low-tide muck, hot asphalt. Zero threats. Zero Hour-signature yet.
Keep moving.
Dexios resumed walking but unstoppered the argument exactly where it had paused.
Priority on hello. You established no credentials. Hello is a security check-in, not an opening bid.
It's an audition,Meson said,
and I'm the strongest opener. Facts.
Wait. I think that's Hour.Aristera's ears cranked forward, tail picking up tempo. His whole frame tipped toward the pier entrance like a compass finding north.
It is Hour. Act normal,Dexios hissed.
I am normal,Aristera hissed back, his tail going like a metronome set to panic.
You're wagging. Stop wagging.
I can't stop wagging, I don't control the wagging, the wagging is involuntary—
They're close. Shut up. Shut up, both of you.Meson straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin. Purple-trimmed collar, purple-trimmed confidence.
I've got this.
No—Dexios grabbed his arm.
We wait. We let them come to us. That's what normal people do.
Normal people also don't have three bodies and one soul, Dex.
Don't say that out loud—
Too late now. Hour has seen the three of us. Which plan do we go with?
Every plan fired at once.
Meson stepped forward, hand half raised, opener loaded:
Hi. I'm the one you like.
Aristera broke right, grinning so wide his ears flattened.
Okay so, funny thing, great thing. You know how the profile said hellhound?He threw jazz-hands at himself and the other two.
So the math maths differently in person. More dog per dog. Graphically enhanced edition!
Dexios stayed planted, eyes scanning exit routes and crowd flow and the precise distance between Hour and the nearest boardwalk cop, and what came out of his mouth was:
Hello. I prepared questions. Do you want them in order of urgency or grouped by category?
And somehow, underneath the collision, one single idiot sentence clawed out of all three throats in perfect unintended stereo:
We can explain.
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