Brona, Fortune's Umble


Written by Septia.


The trill of whistling echoed through the 13th floor; Brona wandered down the hallway of nebulous tangibility whilst toting the tones to a song she had long forgotten the name of. The woman in a ramshackle mess of patched fabrics – which insisted it was an genuine article of clothing – was having a peaceful noon.
	About two days ago she had been on the hunt for that blue frog that kept escaping her misfortunes, but after not finding them through any of these doors – despite going through all the doors that looked to belong to the Grand pe cock hotel – she'd let that roll off of her back again. She had better ways to use her time.
	Eryesterday she'd spend a night in a cabin hotel with a snow mountain-peak view, and yesterday she'd been sleeping in a surprisingly comfortable and modern closet. She grinned amidst her whistling. The thought of staying in such comfy locals every night was pleasant. But, having to keep on her toes to avoid being caught or found out by any visitors and staff, gave the comfort a gratifying edge. Everywhere she went she would be causing someone a little trouble. In the days, she was still tempted to use her misfortune for a better cause, which she did whilst taking long strolls through towns and cities she'd never even heard of. But it didn't matter she knew nothing of it, as long as It had a hotel, she could reach it~.
	Whilst she wandered the doors in her close proximity appeared the most stable, attuned to whatever this accounted for as reality. While anything too far ahead or too far behind her laid shrouded in a weft of fog. 
	This corridor practically went on forever. That is why she was caught off guard by a door barely in her periphery ahead, a door which stood out as perfectly crisp. It was as if the definition on this one gate had been cranked up to mad.
	Her whistling halted, and she smiled. Then she rushed ahead. Once getting a bit closer, her suspicions were confirmed. She knew exactly what it was. The Hotel for All door, the one where some of her kind…'friends' had resided, or, well, people that had offered her to stay the night. 
	“Guess marking this place with a cleat did sumthin-.” She glanced to the top of the door, where she had hung her horse shoe, muzzle facing high… but, that is not how she found it. The metal cleat was downturned, muzzle towards the floor. Brona swallowed. This was bad. She rattled the handle, prying the door wide open and stepped through. 
	She entered the same room she'd seen a couple days before, the one that back then had still been under construction and restoration. Only now, instead of supplies and a few mattresses, the room was littered with moving boxes. 
	A dark skinned girl with creamy white hair drills flanking her face looked up from a crate, eyes going wider. “Brona?” 
	“Eya.” Brona replied with a wave after inviting herself into the room from seemingly nowhere. 
	A satyr boy situated closer to the door dropped folds of laundry he was carrying. “Brona? Wh-what? Where did you come from? That door leads to storage, there's no way in from there?” Met asked, befuddled. 
	“Huh?” Brona said with a glance to the satyr, then shrugged. “Oh yeah, ah can do that now. More importantly,” Brona grabbed a hold of Met's shoulders – to which she had to stand on her toes to try and tower over him – and shook him. “Are you okay? What is happening? Did anything happen?” 
	Tam rushed forward and pulled Brona off of her brother. “Don't you dare pop outta nowhere and shake my bro.” 
	Met brushed over his forehead and glanced between Tam and Brona, Tam hitching her arms wrapped around Brona's shoulder in a full nelson. 
	“We're, fine, yeah. But, to be honest things aren't looking good.” 
	Brona bit her lower lip, sucking in a breath through her teeth. “So it is as ah feared…” 
	Tam peered down over her. “You got something to do with this?” 
	Brona shrugged. “Who'se to know.”
	Met sat back on a crate, tapping his hooves to the ground, elongating the silence and tension. “A couple days ago, Prachio… the, ah, caretaker of the H-all, discovered a letter.” 
	Brona's eyes shot open, and she thought 'oh ah do got something do with this, don't ah?' 
	“It was a sort of, summon. I am not clear on the details, but he went to a court and seems there might be some changes around here.” 
	Brona tilted her head. “What kind?” 
	Tam let her go. “This section of Prosonull's been a bit more of a quiet district, but based on what Prachio heard, this part of town, including us, might all fall under more scrutiny.” 
	Brona looked between Tam and met. 
	Met continued. “This place isn't, exactly finished, or, up to code. Or strictly legal at all. And if we fall under a lot more scrutiny…” 
	“Who knows what this burglary of guests have been hiding.” Tam finished Met's sentence. 
	Met gave a light chuckle. “You're one to talk, sis.”
	Tam held up her palms in defence. “Didn't say I wasn't guilty. But, if they start investigating, then the bread's gonna be out of the bag.”
	“But, that is why, we're packing. Prachio hasn't exactly found a new location yet, but they're pragmatic, if we gotta move we… should be ready.” Met mumbled, glancing over the walls whose colour barely had gotten any time to dry. “So, I am sorry to say, Brona, but as things are now…” 


~ 1 ~


The words repeated, over and over, bouncing back and forth through Brona's skull: “… you can't stay here.” “You can't stay here.” “You can't stay here.”
	She wandered down the hall of the 13th floor, every now and then, she'd walk past the H-all door. It was still there, but she worried that eventually it wouldn't. And that she was to blame. Would have been better is she never even opened that door again. She looked at the horse shoe on the door, then pulled out one from under her clothing, twisting and turning it in her palm. “Why do ah do things?” she asked the cleat. 
	The cleat judged her in silence. 
	She stuffed it back among the dishevelled tatters of her clothing. Maybe she should have explained herself, maybe storming back out of H-all wasn't the best idea. But, what would she even say?  She'd tried to help, just like with her oven friend, and she'd messed everything up, again.
	A drop of water hit her palm. She blinked. Another splotch fell. She touched her face. Fingertips matte. Tears.
	“Hmmm.” Brona contemplated this phenomenon. She could not recall being able to cry.


As Brona waddled she came across another stand-out doo: rotten, worm-eaten, worn down to its fibers. When she approached it, the door gave off an odour of musk and repressed emotions. It was about how she was feeling right now. She opened the door.
	“Mmfghht?” A serpentine woman with an elongated neck turned to face her, reclined on a bed with a bulge filling out the upper half of her neck. Her cheeks swollen to a broad warped oval, where one could still see a pair of feet wriggling at the edge of her maw.
	“Oh. Yer busy. Dun worry, ah didn't see any-.” 
	“Mgm wahit waeeit.” The woman mouthed, and tilted her neck up, lips clasping over the feet. A sturdy swallow and her cheeks concaved -Llgglloompgh-. The squirming bulge ventured down the length of her neck like a congestion through laytex tubes, sinking in under her chest and swelling out her lap rotund with a faint sculpt of her squirming meal -Bbwnnwmgb-. “Come on in, I was just finishing up with a client.” 
	Brona remained on the threshold for a moment, then stepped in. Without further invitation she plonked down on the bed beside the serpent. Then she hunched over in a sigh. 
	The serpent tapped a finger to her chin. “Mmm, judging by your demeanour, I will presume you are not here as one of my booked appointments?”
	Brona shook her head. “Ah'm just passing through.” 
	The serpent gave a glance to her gut, chuckled and gave the contorted scale-mat dome a pat. “We'll, you've come to the right place, I got a lot of experience with visitors passing through.” 
	Brona mumbled something that could have been a chuckle.
	The serpent straightened herself up, seating herself besides her guest properly. “Gotta admit that was a solid icebreaker, considering I am talking to someone who invited herself into a private session…” 
	Brona scoffed. “Bout as solid as that lunk's gonna be.”
	“Oh they are fine, will be on their way soon enough. Pretend they aren't there. Mmmm, they tend to like that.” 
	Brona followed suit and straightened her back, glancing over to the serpent, and sighed. She looked for the right words. “Ah keep screwing up. This whole place's full a losers, and ah'm one o' em, who keeps making stuff worse.” 
	The woman's tongue flickered out past her lips, sampling the emotions in the air. “Lots of losers tend to shoulder stuff that aren't their fault and feel real bad about it. That the kind of loser you are?” 
	Brona twisted her face so her grey floof of hair bounced like a rubber ball. But her expression mellowed, pupils darting every which way. “Maybe? Dunno. Ah'm still gonna go with this one's on me.” 
	The woman rested a hand on Brona's shoulder. “It is important that-.” 
	-BBGmgghghs- The stomach growled and squirmed.
	Her tail gave it a sturdy swat. “Pipe down. Oh, not you. Where was I…?” 
	“I dunno but ah, ah think it sounded important?” 
	“Ah, right. Important to take a step back sometime, which I presume you are already doing now. Step back, talk to someone, clear your head. You would be surprised what sort of situations you can resolve if you just considered it from a few different perspectives.”
	Brona, at first, remained sullen, cheeks buried in her palms. Then, slowly, she begun to perk up. “Yeah… one perspective.” Her eyes cleared, and her jaw dipped to a gentle hang. “Yeah… yer right… one loser's luck, is always another's misfortune.” 
	“I, am not sure I wolud put it that way, but-.” 
	Brona turned back to them. “You got any salt?” 
	“Second drawer,” the snake responded by instinct. 
	Brona opened the nightstand drawer and pocketed a salt shaker. “I'mma gonna need this thanks.” 
	“Wait, I-.” 
	“Oh and you can have this.” Brona said and fished out a four pack of Gaztric Axid soda, planting them as an offering on the nightstand. “Fresh from a minibar. Well, fresh and fresh. Might wanna fridge em, they're better cool.” 
	“That… thank you?” The serpent questioned. 
	Brona paused again, halfway back to the door. She thought of that for a while. Then gave her venting buddy a smile. “Twan't anything. Thanks for the talk snake lady.” Brona called out and stepped back out of the door. 


The serpent was left alone again. She scoffed, flickering her tongue with a smile. “Oddball, that girl. Hope it helped.”  She picked up one of the mini sodas, flicking the tab until she got it open.
	The near flat soda gave off a weak -Khzz- of a whistle. 
	She clicked her tongue over it. “Mmm, smells delightful.” The woman cradled her gut, rubbing down the broad bulge with a snicker. “How do you feel about a lil' soda bath, you naughty thing~?”