Your name is Dalton and you’re a special Fluffy. Special in that you have a special daddy who loves you very much. The two of you work together to make bad things go away. It’s a lot of work, both for you and your daddy. He needs you just as much as you need him, you’re a “Support Fluffy” which means that you help daddy. That’s okay though, because he has a special job that only he can do and you’re very proud of him. You’re a smart Fluffy, but you’re not a “smartie”. No, you’re not even an Alicorn or a Unicorn, you’re just a normal light grey Earthy, but to do good workies for daddy, you were given special gifts to make you the bestest at what you do.
Right now, you’re helping daddy with his work, it’s mostly trying to make sure no one cheats daddy on his pay and making sure they give the monies they promised. You have a hard time with monies, counting isn’t one of your gifts so you have to check with daddy every now and then to make sure things are right.
“This is the address, you are to find the artifact and purify it, then bring it back here for payment.”
“Thwee an’ two fibe wite?”
“I think you mean, three hundred and twenty five dollars. Yes, for the artifact and the cleansing.”
“Otay, daddeh say “yah” tu deawsies.”
You happily offer your hoof to shake on the deal, this part always confuses them, they often ask why have a Fluffy do all the working and talking when you can yourself? Well, daddy is special. Daddy is a “curse-eater”. Curse-eater, or “curwsie-nummer” as you call him are special people who can take away the bad in objects and places. No matter how bad the curse, no matter how strong the demon, daddy can eat them without any problems. Well, such a great power must have its downsides. Oh, it does. And you have to help daddy tend to them every day of his life. After negotiating, the man sets down the house key and an envelope. He leaves and it’s just the two of you in the apartment room. Daddy pulls back the scarf to reveal his mouth, yucky boo-boo juice leaking from the corners of his mouth, beautiful silver thread stitching his lips shut.
The lady who made daddy into a curse eater said that this was necessary to keep all the scary stuff inside daddy while he nums it all away. She had to give daddy the worstest of owwies so he can be the best curse eater. Not just the outside of his mouth, but his tongue, and everything in his mouth was given the worstest owwies. She told you that they are important to prevent any bad scaries from being able to get out. That way, anything daddy eats is forever nummed. She made you smart, she also helped teach you, because Fluffies can do certain things that other animals can’t. It’s not easy, and you can’t do everything. You help daddy mostly by encouragement, he tends to his own bandages, he cleans out his mouth daily with bad smelling wa-was and stuffs smelly plants into his mouth before stitching it shut.
He has to take a lot with him, the smelly dried out plants, the books and the other things that are important for different jobs. Like this one, the two of you leave to accomplish just another job, smiling as the both of you walk down the dark streets of the city. All you have to go by is an address of the place in question. 123 N 13th street. Not really the best numbers, but you had faith in both you and daddy. You look up at him, already expecting what might be on his mind, “It otay, daddeh. Dawton knu. If things get scawdies, stay back an’ wet daddeh handwe it. Dawton jus’ wan’ gib daddeh bestest happies befow’ jobsies.”
Daddy looks so tired, you can see the bags under his blue eyes, he tries to hide them underneath his long hair, but you always know when he hasn’t been sleeping good. The two of you occasionally catch sight of other people, other animals, other fluffies. Sometimes, you wish you were like other fluffies, but that would not be fair to daddy. Daddy works so hard for the two of you. You love him so much. That’s why you always go with him on his work. Approaching the house, you can already feel your fluff standing on end, whatever is inside the house is majorly baddies and scaries. You’re already trembling, but you feel daddy petting your soft white mane, and you lift your head up in an attempt to feel more brave, “Dawton be bwabe fo’ daddeh.”
Daddy has to unlock the door, he opens it up and a sudden wave of sick cold wind erupts from the doorway. It bites into your Fluff, and you feel the collar around your neck start to warm in reaction to the cold. It helps nullify the cursed winds, but it still leaves you scared and worried. In your head, you can hear the old lady’s words, her training echoes into your mind and you remember, “Curses are simple enough. Like a bad weed, you must get it at its roots or you’re not going to do much to it. Some of them are smart enough to hide their roots, and most humans can’t feel the waves of cursed energy. That’s what makes children and animals useful, they’re more sensitive to these things. Feel the waves, and point out where they’re coming from.”
The air spins with activity, it feels like you’re being tossed around by the wind, daddy doesn’t notice, but that’s why you’re here. You turn to face the direction of the cursed wind, “Dat way.”
It’s already so strong, the breeze pushes you back, but you hold your ground with daddy holding you close. The cold wind gets stronger, it bites into you, but you feel the magic in your collar resisting the storm. Eventually, you set your eyes upon the source of the wind. In the living room, on the fireplace mantle. A black statue of a naked man sitting on a throne of skulls. In your head, you can hear daddy say, “A focal point for magical arts, but strange that it has so much cursed energy in it.”
Of course, finding the statue isn’t the hard part. The two of you are shoved down by a tremendous force, you fall onto the ground with a loud yelp of surprise while your daddy falls onto his back. You can see daddy’s reflection being cast on the glass protecting the front of the fireplace, and there’s a scary shadow on-top of him. Wrapping its hands around his throat, you can hear daddy choking. And the nice lady’s voice words return to your thoughts.
“There will be moments where your daddy won’t be able to protect himself. His greatest strength is only at play when he can eat the roots of the curse, otherwise he’s vulnerable to any kind of harm. That’s where you come in, little one.”
As you think of the nice lady’s words, you already know what you need to be doing. You bite the soft pad of your hoof, hard enough to make it bleed and draw a triangle on the ground. The point facing the shadow and your daddy.
“Keep wowstes’ darkies at bay. Undew bestes’ fiwe do dey stay. Huggies dem tight an’ make it bwight. Buwn da scawies in Dawton’s wight.”
It starts to glow, the blood on the ground turning black, blistering with embers first and then billowing out as an overwhelming inferno of vivid colors. The heat doesn’t burn you, and it rushes forth towards the shadow, wrapping around it and smothering it under its radiance. A brilliant rainbow of light, like a warm hug for anyone good, but for the evil shadow it would be more painful than that. Daddy staggers to his feet, he holds his neck, pulling back the scarf as he carries himself towards the statue. You can feel the shadow struggle, fighting back against the flames, trying to claw out.
“Magic is easy enough that even something like you can perform it. Fire for example is a simple triangle. Drawing the symbol is just a part of the process. Intent, effort and belief shape it into whatever you wish.”
Daddy is already pulling out the stitches, his mouth bleeding profusely, opening wide to reveal a terrible abyss of darkness. You focus on the spell, struggling to keep the shadow within its hot embrace as he starts the ritual. All restraints and wards etched into his mouth, only useful when his mouth is shut, but when the wards are lifted. They come out of daddy to feed. Long translucent skeletal arms erupt from his mouth, slick with blood and ectoplasm, they home in towards the source of the darkness. For all the times you’ve witnessed this, you find yourself both amazed and incredibly disturbed by the sight. Nothing ever escapes the grasp of those hands, they voraciously rip into the darkness, tearing into its core before finally freeing it from the curse. You can hear the horrible screams of the cursed spirit as it is torn apart, fading along with the flames you made, until nothing is left behind.
He gags, swallowing the darkness before falling backwards onto the ground. The act is exhausting, he trembles on the ground, drooling fluids from his wounded mouth, but it’s not done. You remind him with a soothing cuddle, “Daddeh nee’ wock 'way da scawies.”
Daddy nods, it’s painful, and there’s nothing you can really do about it. The process takes resources, and it’s not something he can rush or do much to ease the suffering. He opens his satchel, grabbing the strong smelling leaves and shoving them into his bleeding mouth. A wad deals with suppressing dark energy, one for cleansing, and it goes on. Long past the ability to taste anything, it just helps him with digestion of the curse, but it’s uncomfortable. He threads a needle with silver thread, and binds his mouth shut slowly. Every stitch causing a small spasm of pain, his eyes tearing up,
Even after eating the curse, the statue remains, and daddy has his doubts about the intentions of the man we were hired by. Research is an important part of any case, not that you can easily do this before getting the cursed item, but knowledge into the item is key. He puts the statue away, and the two of you leave just as you arrived. The door locked, the blood gone, and it’s almost like you were never there in the first place. Returning to the apartment, he is already at the desk and pulling out things to look into.
He brings out books, texts and documents that he keeps around on hand in his room. Amongst the things that he has, he tends to only bring things that are important to the mission on hand. However, he does have texts and books that can help with understanding cursed artifacts. Most of them aren’t great at narrowing down things, the internet works great for that. Daddy’s questions fill your head, you cover your ears and whimper out, “Daddeh makin’ tu many thinkies.”
A laugh, he pets your head, pulling off the choker around his throat which immediately silencing everything. He can’t talk to you. He can’t talk to anyone, but that choker is his way of speaking without words. The only way he can talk. And he can only speak to you, because of your collar. A blessed item that can do many things. Protect you from curses, let you have the smartest of thoughts, and hear daddy. It’s why you must always wear it, even while being bathed, and even when you don’t want to wear it. It was passed onto you. Your daddy wore it before you, and you’ll wear it until you have foals and one is strong enough to continue things.
You hear a knock on the door, daddy looks at you for a moment before slipping the choker back on.
“Jus’ a wittwe bit.”
It’s not easy to be daddy’s voice, you wait until his voice begins to bubble into your head and you watch him go to the door. It’s the old man, he walks inside with a big grin on his face, “I checked the property, and damn. You guys work fast. I take it that you have the statue as well?”
“Yah, bu’ dis statue nu am safe.”
“I don’t get it. You got rid of the curse, what’s the problem?”
Daddy steps next to the statue, staring at it for a moment, “Da statue nu cuwsed, bu’ it wiww dwaw dem in. Eben aftah nummin’ it, it wiww stawt puwwing mowe in. Statue bad, it bettah off destwoyed.”
“Look, I paid you for the removal and the statue. I’ll even pay you extra for the effort you put into it, but I want the statue.”
You laugh a little, it’s really daddy laughing, but you can’t help giggling, “Daddeh nu mind, bu’ he just wan’ yu tu knu. He nu wesp…wesponsbwe fo’ dummeh mistah gibbin’ himsewf fowebah-sweepies. Dat statue stained, it won’t be safe untiw cweansed.”
You can tell that the old man is getting annoyed, daddy hands over the statue, and he receives the money. He counts it before looking over at you, “Daddeh say “teww yu fwiends 'bout us 'fowe yu die”.”
He leaves with a huff, you can already tell what daddy is thinking, you are probably not going to see that man ever again. If that statue is as messed up as daddy thinks it is, it’s going to start snowballing another curse. He figured that the curse must have accumulated for at least a few months for it to get that bad. The curse itself wasn’t too difficult, the two of you have dealt with much worse ones, but the idea of an artifact that can freely build curses up is not something he wants to have running around freely. Yet, you were both paid for this. And there was nothing about purifying it beyond just eating the curse.
Purification and curse-eating are close, but they’re not the same. And some people confuse daddy as able to do the former when in reality, he is only able to do the latter. He can eat away the curse out of an item, but it will still be dirty and open to gathering a new curse. It’s something you’ve had to explain, and it is tiring to deal with. His thoughts run into your head. You know he’s not really happy with how things went. He wanted to destroy the statue. So do you. The idea of a scary thing out there making more scary things doesn’t make you happy either. It just is how it is though. You try to give daddy your best smile, he never needs to eat as long as he’s digesting a curse, but he knows that you’re not the same. He strokes your mane, going over to his bag and pulling out a can of Sketti-os. It’s your favorite food, but you know it’s not very healthy for you. This is just a reward for making out through another job alive.
It’s a hard job. One that needs to be done, but you hate it. You hate that your daddy has to be the one to do it. You hate how much pain he goes through for all of this. Every job is the same, and he tries so hard to make you happy. Always on the move, always risking your lives, and the money tends to burn up fast. There’s always going to be curses though. As long as there are humans, there will be curses, and not all curses can be purified by normal people. He looks at his phone, no texts from the nice lady, but he has to always keep an eye out for it. She was responsible for turning him into this. She made all the wards, every scar and everything on and inside of him. The part that gives you the worst of heart-hurties is that he must always come back to her. So she can hurt him even more, because of who he is.