Quartz frowns, whittling at a bit of wood in his hand, seated in a wooden chair as the mists of the Cauldron rise around him. There’s an air of anxiety, of fear, a slight warbling sound which might be a voice crying. My voice.
Quartz: Silly scribbler. Today is supposed to a happy one, right?
Nimmie Not: Yes, yes, it is!
BAMF! There’s a cloud of yellow smoke and a wiggling kobold in Quartz’s lap.
Quartz: Gah! (He drops the knife and the carving which disappear into the smoky ground.)
Nimmie Not: Happy Anniversary, my bearded beauty! Come here, yes, you will!
He throws his arms around Quartz. They both disappear along with the chair. Dwarf and kobold reappear, doing an odd jig in the mist which now starts to flash with colors like a strobbing disco ball. A jaunty tune plays in the background. Nimmie Not twirls a reluctant, stumbling, yet not entirely uncooperative Quartz across the dance floor.
Quartz: (remembering his dignity and remembering to refuse to show any sign of enjoying himself too much with Nimmie Not) Not our anniversary, you daft fool! It’s the scribbler’s!
Nimmie Not: (stopping) Oh.
The music stops, turns into Amethystium’s Ascension. Rising above the mist, we can see spires of a castle or is it simply a rooftop surrounded by trees.
Nimmie Not: Happy Anniversary, scribbler! (He smiles, spreads his arms, and mutters out of the corner of his mouth) Just what did she do which we’re commemorating?
Quartz: Created us one for one, you capering fool. Only that’s not why today is special for her as you well know.
Nimmie Not: Of course not. Every day is worth celebrating the creation of we two, yes, indeed, it is. We make every time special.
Quartz: Right. If every day was special, there would be no special. Ow, I’m making my head hurt.
Nimmie Not: Refrain from that, my dearest dwarf. You wouldn’t want your head to fall off and sold to gnomes. That happened in a pumpkiness webcomic long ago to our scribbler, yes, it did.
Quartz: That would explain a lot. Today is when she married her husband. They’ve been married for thirteen years.
Nimmie Not: That’s a blink of an eye to us, my precious fusspot.
Quartz: Remember the scribbler is human, even she herself forgets that sometimes.
Nimmie Not: Absent-minded of her.
Quartz: She’s always been like that. She’s trying to ground herself a bit more since she has to. She’s about to lose something precious.
Nimmie Not: Oh ho, what might that be? It’s always useful to know our scribbler’s weaknesses, yes, it is.
Quartz: One thing is time. She’s going to lose a lot of time what with the changes that lie ahead.
Nimmie Not: Ooo, I don’t like the sound of that! (He began to tap the ground with his belled toe.) This means less time for us.
Quartz: Aye, I fear that, too.
Nimmie Not: You said time was one thing. What’s the other thing she might lose?
Quartz: (pressing his lips together) Her home.
Nimmie Not: I’m certain that’s a sore matter for you.
Quartz: It’s natural in the scribbler’s world to pay for certain things when you have a home. She and her husband may no longer be able to pay the costs for living in their home.
Nimmie Not: (hopping a little closer to Quartz: Doesn’t it make you feel all snug and safe not having to worry about such things?
Quartz: Right. (scowling) I always have to worry about such things.
Nimmie Not: Now, now, I gave you a home. You and your brothers are snug and safe at that cottage I provided for you. I didn’t charge you a cent, it was a gift.
Quartz: Aye, it may have been a gift, but I’m guessing there will be a cost.
Nimmie Not: Ooo, don’t pout, my grumpy, oh, no! Let’s be positive, offer our scribbler a gift on this happy day while troubled times loom over her. Now what would the perfect gift be, hmm?
Quartz: No need to ask. Going to give her what I always give her. Ideas.
Nimmie Not: (clapping his spindly hands together) Oh, you clever dwarf! I shall do the same. She does love her inspiration, doesn’t she?
Quartz: That she does. Happy Anniversary, scribbler. And to you, Don. Thank you for supporting her all this time so we could come into existence, lad.
Nimmie Not: Who are you calling “lad”? We were born from the scribbler’s imagination. We’re much younger than her husband. Not that you’d know to look at him, the handsome rogue, mmm, yes.
Quartz: Don’t flirt with our creatrix’s husband, especially on their anniversary. (His eyebrows bristle and rise.) In our worlds, our stories we’re at least a century old, remember?
Nimmie Not: Really? (claps a hand to his cheek) Where did all that time fly away to?
Quartz: Mystery to me, too, kobold. (He actually smiles at the kobold.)
Nimmie Not falls over his own feet in surprise.
Quartz’s smile gets a little wider.