Winter Nights and Cartoon Songs

It was a normal, wintery eve tonight, the same sort of weather that came around every late November as the first signs of a bitter cold snap rolling in from the coast. The air was active, full of energy, rushing through the maze of neon-traced skyscrapers and the car-clogged streets and freeways to carry along its harsh howling whistle, like a siren song blowing its freezing melody. The dark night sky, normally so starlit and dotted with the trail lights of rolling airships, was littered with carpets of dark snow clouds, which hung almost menacingly above the city of New Meridian. Feathery white drops, resembling more or less torn bits of cotton, fell weightlessly from the air, only to be caught by the currents of icy wind and tossed around wildly, falling down to join its brethren in forming a soft white sheet of sorts on the streets below, dusting the parked cars, shop awnings, and windowsills in a fine white powder.
There was talk of a blizzard approaching, at least that was the radio said. Canopy Weather Network always said there was chance of a huge whiteout this time of year, usually thanks to the city’s location along the coast and the ever changing weather patterns crossing from the No Man’s Land, so it was only natural for the people of New Meridian to prepare for the worst. People were buying up candles, canned food, heavy winter jackets, stuff that anyone would gather up to ride out a blizzard. Plough trucks salted the street on the daily now, to prevent forming ice from gathering hold. Schools were letting out for the week, some closing, others remaining open until they would have to let out early anyway. All in all, though, it seemed to be pretty basic stuff regarding winter weather, and everyone was just taking in precaution to hunker down and ride out the worst.
And, of course, even the undead would have to prepare for this stuff too.
In the mid-center of New Meridian Memorials, the city’s local graveyard, lied a small obsidian crypt, just tucked between a small half-frozen duck pond and a branching pathway which laid to the Canopy’s war memorial. It didn’t seem all too appealing or stood out in anyway- stained glass windows on either side, the solid brass door marking entrance, the stone-hewn cross on the roof hanging with icicles, although the name however seemed to stand out. In carefully cut letters across the width of the elaborate entrance read the name: “CONTIELLO”.  Aside from that, it would seem to be a pretty normal crypt all things considered. But, if one pressed their ear gently to the door, and listened very carefully, they would swear they heard two people talking from deep inside of the normal dead silent vault.
“Okay, so, just to make clear that we have gotten everything on this list…do we have the firewood?”
“Yes, m’lady”
“Do we have the pantry and the cabinet filled? The icebox too?”
A quick glance at these objects for a moment, followed by a nod.
‘Indeed”
“What about the candles and the lanterns? Did we get enough?”
“I’m sure we have, m’lady”
“And what about the door upstairs? Is it open? Do we need to…?”
“Rest assured, dear Sienna” the voice replied in its deep, yet reassuring breath. “There is no need to panic. Why, we’ve already gone through the inventory of our entire kitchen twice now, and the amount of jackets and winter wear threefold! I’m sure we have quite everything we need”
Squigly sighed and nodded, resting the clipboard down on her hip as she looked up at Leviathan, breaking into an adorable, sheepish smile.
“Oh, you’re right, Leviathan. I really shouldn’t be so nervous. But, it’s supposed to be quite a nasty storm tonight, and I don’t want us to be left out in the cold.”
Leviathan nodded his head, coiling himself gingerly around his mistress’s waist as if he were a long scarf, resting his head comfortably on her shoulder to give her a warm, soothing smile. He knew that she was only trying to prepared and responsible, as any proper woman would be, but it always pained him to see her so nervous about things like this, after all, he was her guardian, and no matter what it may be, weather or enemy, he would always uphold his vow to protect her.
“You needn’t fear, mistress Squigly. No matter what the weather may be, I’m here to protect you. If the worst does come, I shall be right here beside you to ensure your total comfort and safety”
This brought a wider smile to Squigly’s face, her stitched lips moving into such a radiant smile that it would seem almost as if it could melt the very thought of snow away. Her cheeks lit up in a crimson glow, kissing her blue skin with such gentle color her face flushed a sweet shade of purple. She let out a soft little giggle that fell with such musical air to it one would swear she was singing, before she cupped her hands around the serpent’s head and kissed it adoringly to leave a vibrant blue mark upon his head.
“Oh, Leviathan~! You gentleman, you~! You always know how to make me feel better~. Why, just being here with you has already made me feel so safe and comfortable~.
Leviathan chuckled, nuzzling himself with a purr against his host’s cheek. Both he and Squigly really didn’t mind the weather too much- save for when things would seem to turn hectic and they would have to hide down here in their little bunker. While Squigly enjoyed the snow, finding the scene of falling white snow kissing along the graveyard’s trees in a white veil to be quite picturesque or the always nostalgic sound of snow crunching beneath her boots as she and Leviathan would busily set up Christmas lights along the exterior of their crypt to be always a fun venture, it was just the idea of a terrible, howling blizzard, with fangs of ice and its sharp, hissing gusts of artic wind, to be, well, rather depressing, like life being snuffed out behind the cold, the world coming to a dead stop beneath the bitter wind and artic gales. The fear of being left alone in the dark, cold and buried beneath the frozen ground, shook Squigly to her core, and she always made very sure that they were quite prepared for anything that came at them.
Still though, nothing said there wasn’t comfort to be found in their little nook. Aside from getting ready for the blizzard, Squigly and Leviathan had stocked up on all sorts of wonderful things to do and eat while they bunkered down. The icebox, an old freezer that Squigly had stuffed with bags of ice from the grocer and kept cold thanks to its location underground, and a set of old cabinets that they had repainted a lovely golden gild was stocked full of snacks and goods ranging from exotic delights a bottle or two of Old Canopy Vineyard’s Renoir Red and a package of crème truffles for more relaxing evenings to more simple pleasures such as boxes of tea leaves of all varieties and flavors and a package of frozen cookies ready to heat up whenever they’re ready. The lightly tiled walls were lined with ornate candle holders, each one holding a sweet scented candle topped with a delicate purple flame, filling the bunker with the aroma of evergreen from every room and nook. The big plush couch, as well as the covered bed in the back room, was laden in a mess of heavy comforters, plush blankets, pillows half the size of Squigly herself, all ready to welcome anyone in a warm, inviting snuggle. There was even a projector, salvaged from the old Contiello Estate grounds on a past trip, that the singer had set up, still setting up to say, since she really wasn’t so versed in the technical skills of behind the scenes of the Contiello shows. Nevertheless, she had plenty of old boxes piled with film reels around the couch, some labeled, some labeled, others faded with time that she and Leviathan had planned to look through while they snuggled up cozy, away from the storm.
Yes, everything seemed to be in order for the night. At the current moment, Squigly seemed about ready to perhaps put on some tea and spend the night in her bedroom, looking through which records were good to listen to from yesterday’s shopping spree at that record store by the mall. And Leviathan was planning on getting to tuck into that book he had been reading through since Friday, perhaps with a bit of those tea cakes Squigly had gotten earlier at the…
BAM! BAM! BAM!
The sudden noise jolted Squigly up, to the point where she went completely stiff and fell back in surprise, if not for Leviathan whipping his tail into a spring and literally bouncing her up to her feet. It didn’t sound like thunder, too light and too close, but didn’t sound like gunfire, since Leviathan would be able to smell the scent of gunpowder. Rather, it sounded like heavy footsteps smashing through the brass door of the crypt, which had flown open to crash against the wall again, as if pulled shut quickly. Squigly got into a defensive position, grabbing Leviathan’s tail and holding it up like a spear, while the dragon, with a determined glare in his eyes, looked around her shoulder, up the steps that laid up from the den toward the entrance of the crypt.
“What could that be?” Squigly spoke in a hushed whisper, sounding a bit nervous, but rather determined, as if ready to stand her guard. “It sounded like someone coming in upstairs. I don’t think anyone was invited over, right, Lev?”
“No, I’m certain we weren’t expecting guests tonight, m’lady.” Leviathan snarled up at the steps, the rest of himself shielding around his host’s form, ready to protect her at any moment. His tail opened, revealing a long spear of purple flame, which with practiced efficacy, straightened out into a curling line of fire, as if for Squigly to aim as if it were a flaming sword- something simple and quick aside from their more complex moves, but good to scare off any intruders. “Should we investigate?”
“Yes.” Squigly nodded once more, her red eye full of serious determination, her hand clasping a bit tighter around her parasite’s tail. “If it is someone, perhaps it could be the caretaker? The new, young one, perhaps, that might have just gotten lost? If not, well, we certainly wouldn’t want any trouble from them tonight”
With a few quiet steps, using her deft martial skill she had acquired from hours of training, Squigly glided across the floor, making sure to pray that the normally creaking steps wouldn’t give their position away. Leviathan poked his head up a bit further as lookout, his yellow eyes glaring through the dimness above the trap door leading to the crypt interior, as if to see it move. On occasion, the door would slam and rattle, as if someone stepped on it, but never opened, instead banging and rattling as feet would glide across it. Perhaps Squigly was right- that young caretaker still didn’t know his way around the graveyard, and perhaps might have just come in for shelter and they would seem like quite the fright for the unfortunate man, or perhaps maybe it was more unsavory company- both singer and serpent knew full well that certain characters used the graveyard at night for rather dark business, and rest assured, neither of them wanted any of those people around here, especially not in their home sweet crypt, of course.
As they climbed the steps, Squigly ready to swing Leviathan’s tail at the face of the lunatic who dared disturb them as they rested, she slowed for a moment, hearing voice beyond the door. For a moment, she swore she knew the voice- a high cackle, sounding like old-timey if that was even appropriate, yet young, like that of a cartoon character she had seen on TV, followed by a smaller, squawking sound of voice, this one laughing with delight at something, while the other voice chortled along with eager excitement.
“Oh…oh, man, boss…! Did ya see the look on that mook’s face when we jumped outta the trash! Haha, priceless! I swear I gots a picture of it!”
“Yeah! And did you see how mad the other guy was when we tried to chase ya! He..hehe…he fell right on his face-KA-BLAM! Oh brotha’ whatta maroon!”
Maroon? Now, that was something familiar. Squigly thought for a moment- old time voice, cartoonish language, squawking…in that moment, she knew full well who it was.
In one quick burst, Squigly opened the door and looked out into the crypt. There, lit only by the spark of an oversized cigar and the thin beam from a small flashlight, stood Peacock and Avery, at least that’s what she could see given the cigar. The cyborg girl was dressed in a heavy winter coat, buttoned up to the point it was almost uncomfortable for her to breath and smoke at once, while her long, segmented arms were buried in the heavy sleeves, the glassy peacock-shaped eyes jutting out from slits cut in the sleeves for them to see. Her bird companion, Avery, was wrapped in a smaller coat, wearing a wool cap across his head in the shape of Peacock’s trademark hat. In Lab’s 8’s Finest’s hand was a huge burlap bag, soaked with melting snow, but stuffed with what seemed to be bills of money, all neatly rolled into little tidy stacks. On the side of the bag, Squigly could make out the label: “Medici Gallery” on the side, half-faded thanks to the running ink. As soon as they heard the noise, Peacock and Avery shot back, Peacock bringing her trademark revolver level to Squigly, finger on the trigger and ready to pull.
In that moment, the two parties stood silent, staring each other down in confusion and surprise. Then, Peacock lowered the gun and broke into a big, silvery smirk, twirling her pistol on her finger like a cowboy and slipping into her pocket.
“Well hey! If it ain’t the Corpse Bride! How are ya, Squigly? I ain’t seen ya since that show ya did a few weeks back!”
“Hello, Peacock. Good to, uh, see you too! If I may ask, what brings you here this time of evening?”