Razzle dropped back as if she’d been kicked, sitting on her haunches like a confused dog as her brother left her behind. “…Dazza?..Dazza tink Wazza munsta tu?..wan di-”
Jason took his cue a few moments later than he meant to, scooping her up into his arms before she could finish the phrase. “There’s my Razzleberry Blue. Such a good fluffy, such a good girl.” She fixed her eyes on him, still sniffling, and he petted her gently. The blood would wash off, after all, and he had worn disposable clothes today for a reason. “Good girl, Razzleberry. You did everything Daddeh asked. You followed all the rules. Let’s go inside.”
It was the mention of inside that seemed to snap her out of more of it. “In…inside? Wazza…Wazza am house fwuffy fow Daddeh siw, nyao? Wazza nu bad fwuffy?”
He stroked her ears, and she nuzzled into him. “That’s right…and you can call me just Daddy, now. You’re a good fluffy. The most important rule is to obey Daddeh, right?” She nodded, and he stepped inside, heading straight for the utility room and the larger sink. “You did that, even when I know it must have given you many heart hurties. That makes you a very good fluffy…Like Jolly Rancher. Now, lets get you all clean, okay?” He set her in the sink, and could tell she was already shaking. The juveniles and Kennel guards got baths- if cold water hose downs could be called baths- every time they got excessively bloody and once a week otherwise. They had shelter enough that as long as they spent enough time grooming in the heated areas later, they’d be fine. And it meant she wasn’t bothering with any protests about ‘Wawa bad fo’ fwuffy”- she knew she’d survive it. Not like it, but it was something that could be endured.
The shaking and the nervous way she huddled into the bottom of the sink didn’t stop though, joined by a faint whimper when he unbuckled the collar she’d worn as long as she’d had a name. A quick wipe of the nylon and plastic, and it was dropped back into the box of other chip collars, ready for the next set of kennel guards. As he did, she watched him though her mane, a baffled and clearly apprehensive expression taking over.
Of course, that made the sudden switch of the look on her face as warm water filled the sink around her all the more priceless. “Wawa…wawa hab wawmies? An….” she watched him add fluffy shampoo to the bath… “an bubbwes?” She reached out, sneezing as she nose bumped one, then giggling slightly as she managed to hit another with a hoof. “wike…Wazza wike wawm bathie.”
“Good fluffies who live in the house get warm baths, Razzleberry.” He stroked her ears, and she gave him an adoring look, giggling slightly as he rubbed the lather into her mane and her stained fluff. “You’re going to get a lot of things as long as you stay the good little fluffy you have been.” He drained the blood tinged water out, repeating the lather and rinse until her fluff and mane were pristine again. Once she had shaken enough water off, he smoothed in a good handful of conditioner intended for show fluffies, eliciting more giggles at the “smeww pwetty” as he used it to comb out any tangles. There weren’t many, but more than there might have been if the rest of her nestmates hadn’t been distracted with a pregnant mate or small babies.
Another good shake into a towel, and she was leaning into a warm blowdrying, eyes shut, arching into the slicker brush like a cat. “There we are. All clean and dry, so you can see the rest of the house.” She dropped into a slightly clumsy heel the moment he gestured, a wing resting against his shin to keep her lined up as she stared at everything in wonder.
There was so much to see. The series of saferooms for the show fluffys and the premium breeding stock. One for the studs, one for the mares, and a somewhat larger one for families raising foals, with low walls between them and far more cameras than anywhere else. All of them were filled by delicately built fluffies with silken fluff in colorful patterns, mostly alicorns, foammatted floors and walls, bright scatters of toys and beds. Compared to the outdoor breeding kennels, with plain wire cages for each fluffy, a small run for daily socializing, even to the open pens of those in training, it was paradise.
Her hooves went back to clicking loudly on the tile as soon as they were out of the stock rooms, and he sighed. There was a reason he’d covered any hardwood floors before letting fluffies out. The soft hooved ones were at constant risk of hurting themselves like a puppy with tender pawpads. The ones with actual keratin instead of leather pads were less likely to rip open their own feet, but they were as bad for good flooring as dogs with unclipped nails- and that went just as firmly for the ones with full cloven hooves. Hardwear carpeting and rugs, decent tile, and the better versions of linoleum took it best. He preferred unpolished tile and scatter rugs, in most rooms. It took the wear well, the rugs taught house fluffies not to run in the hallway very fast, and it was almost as good for keeping hooves worn down as concrete and hardpacked dirt or gravel. Which meant much less needing to play farrier with a small knife and file. The noise, however, was unavoidable.
Razzleberry was still awestruck by almost everything. The rugs in the hall and how they moved under her hooves, the lights everywhere, the warmth from the heaters along the walls, the gentle sound of music from a radio left on. And everytime she hesitated, too overwhelmed to keep moving, her Daddeh would reach down, patting her head to remind her to keep moving. The kitchen was a shock of it’s own, soft sunshine walls and cool tile floors just a few shades lighter than her own fluff, and the rich smells of all kinds of nummies everywhere.
And another, older fluffy, another alicorn with deep blue with a brighter blue mane, watching her from around the table. He had an ornate, shiny collar with even shinier tags hanging from it, shiny as the bowl he was standing over. “Daddeh bwing in udda fwuffy?”
“Jolly, this is Razzleberry Blue. She’s one of Cotton Candy’s foals, all grown up, and she’s going to live inside now. Razzleberry, this is Jolly Rancher. His littermate was your mother.” The two of them stared at each other, before Jolly carefully stepped forward, sniffing along her side as she echoed the motion.
“Am Wazza mummah bwudda?” She leaned into the soft nuzzle of her ear, and Jolly arched a wing over her in an almost hug. “Hab mowe famwy?”
He looked back at Jason, who nodded, then nuzzled in happily. “Jowwy am happies hab famwy in housie ‘gain.” Razzle was still cuddled into him, letting him keep her under his wing and leaning into his side, as she reached up to nibble a loose feather free and then preen out a small fluff tangle right under the wing joint. Jolly made a soft crooning noise at the attention, leaning down to lick at a bit of her mane. “Bewy happies.”
Well, before Jason could feel a little guiltier about how long Jolly had been an only house fluffy- “Right. You two hungry? I know breakfast is a little late today.” Both immediately looked over at him, ears flicking forward and tails swishing eagerly. “That’s about what I thought.” He snagged three assorted sized tupperware to pop into the microwave. “A nice nutritious mix of meat for each of you. And, because Razzleberry was a very good fluffy out there for me today…” he opened the third container to reveal a tangle of high fiber spaghetti and hunting friend safe rose sauce- heavy on the meat and cream, no garlic or onions. “There will be a treat today.” Amid the cheerful sound of tippy tapping hooves, he snagged an old plate from the cabinet and ladled out a large portion of noodles and sauce with the meat and organs on top.
Razzleberry’s eyes were wide as it was set in front of her, but despite the beginning of drool, she still sat back from the food. “…Daddeh, Jowwy get sketti tu, wite?”
“You want to share with him?” He wasn’t going to make Jolly watch another fluffy eat that in front of him anyways, but this was still interesting. She nodded, giving Jolly the same kind of look she used to have making sure her brother got enough food or made it through a test. “Well, in this case, I’ll agree with this. Spaghetti for both of you.” He set down the bowl inlaid with Jolly’s name, already filled with the same layers as her plate. “Go on, you two. Eat up. We’ve got the rest of the house tour and rules to go over.”