Meet the Family

Astrid, Lyra, and Maran walked around the corner of Pushpins and Passports, their footsteps echoing around the empty hallways of the website.

“All I’m saying,” Astrid said in a burst, beyond exasperated, “is that if you tagged along just to get mud on my canvas, I’m going to be peeved.”

“Then don’t put your easel where it might be used for cover,” Lyra grinned.

The other girl scowled in response. “Everyone agreed I could have an hour to paint in peace, and that’s all I’m asking for. I don’t think that’s too much.”

Lyra stopped suddenly, looking up at a poster of a towering yellow building with a decorative facade. “So, is this Art Deco, with the blocks and stuff?” She squinted at it, then glanced at her friends, “No, really, I’m asking.”

“Lyra,” Maran chided.

“You don’t have anything to worry about, ok? The room can do anything. So we’ll split it off. Put a nice big wall up so you won’t even have to see us.” Lyra peered around at some of the other posters that had popped up on the walls since she’d last been here. “Anyone else feel like this place has been changing a lot lately? I definitely saw a whole new area over by what used to be the ‘Van Life’ section, and that’s all different now, too.”

“What does it matter? That side of the site doesn’t have anything to do with us. Hurry up, I’m not letting you eat up my painting time with your nonsense.” She turned on her heel and stared off down the hallway again.

“You’d think, with all the time the author has put into this place lately, she might have spent a little more time on us. We’re the money makers, after all,” Lyra complained.

Maran snorted. “I think even you know that’s a stretch, Ly.” He started off after Astrid, and Lyra skipped a few times to keep up. "I have noticed all the construction, though. Looks like something big is happening. Maybe we should go check it out before we head home today.”

I stuck my head out of the wall behind them, appearing from the back end of the site, “Oh no, you’re going to keep Lyra far away from that side of the sight. The last thing I need is her breaking one of my links, or corrupting a file, or—”

“Alright, we get it, I have a tendency to break things,” Lyra scowled. “But you’ll note that I’m pretty good at fixing them, too.”

“You’re hopeless with anything digital, Lyra. Leave the site alone. There’s a reason I made a special room just for you.” I looked skeptically over the group, and then turned to Maran. “You’re in charge.” With that, I disappeared again, leaving the characters to their mayhem.

“Rude,” Lyra grumbled.

The group turned the last corner and spotted Gwen and Seb standing outside the Breakroom. Astrid frowned. “Is something wrong with the room?”

“Not exactly,” Seb drawled. A loud crash came from the other side of the door.

“If you’d just stand still!” Someone shouted.

“Who’s that?” Maran asked as they came to stand next to the pair. There was a hum of voices behind the door, punctuated by crashing and banging and the occasional snarl.

“I know better than to let you anywhere near me,” came another voice. “You’re psychotic.”

“We’re all psychotic, dear,” said a third girl.

“And Arachne is in a class of her own,” the second voice retorted.

“You don’t want to go in there,” Gwen warned when Lyra reached for the door handle. “We tried. There’s too many of them.”

"Cannonball!” a boy’s voice shouted.

There was a massive BOOM, a few shrieks, and the door rattled. The five characters in the hall took a collective step back.

“Damon! I’m going to strangle you with barbed wire, you little twerp!” This was another new voice, and Astrid and Maran exchanged a panicked glance, wondering how many of these strange new characters there were.

“Where did he even get a cannon?” Another girl asked, sounding utterly incredulous.

“It just wanted it and it appeared,” the boy declared proudly.

It went abruptly silent behind the door. Then, all at once, they started chattering again.

“Oh, for the love of Hecate.”

“What is this place?”

“It’s not like any kind of magic I’ve ever—”

“Alixon, why did you go for a crocodile?”

“Mother, no!”

It went quiet again, and then a chilling laugh started, low and quiet but quickly growing in intensity, becoming shrill and slightly unhinged. The group in the hallway took another step back, Gwen staring at the door with her mouth slightly open, a morbid sort of fascination curling in her chest.

“So, maybe we should try again tomorrow?” Maran suggested.

There was a chorus of agreement, but Gwen scowled. “No. What if they never leave? We need to make it clear that this is ours, too. If we have to share, fine, but we aren’t going to let them run us out.”

“I mean, I’d be fine with letting them have it if it means living,” Astrid said.

Seb snorted. “No, Gwen’s right. This matters.”

“It’ll give me a chance to practice the knife skills you’ve been teaching me!” Lyra bounced on her toes a few times, eyes lighting up.

“This seems like exactly the kind of thing the Author wanted me to stop you from doing.”

Gwen glared at Maran. “Do you want to be responsible, or do you want to make a difference?”

He stared at her for several long moments before he sighed. “I hope you know I hate you.”

“Love you, too,” Lyra retorted.

“At least tell me someone has a plan,” Astrid groaned. The others exchanged glances, then looked at Gwen.

The girl shrugged. “Sure, I’ve got a plan.” Then she marched over to the door and flung it open.