The Alabaster Comb
By Limewah
Patron Reward for Flarfenarfle (October 2023)

It had taken some time around her crystal ball, and a few sleepless nights, but Anastasia’s divine divinations had finally found her mark. The disappearances that had been reported throughout the land seemed to converge on a sleepy hamlet of a few hundred people by the name of Cedarflute. Apparently a lot of musicians and artisans who created their instruments lived there. 
…She was hoping for something a bit less jarringly loud.

The snowy owl could hear the awful organ music from a mile away. There was no point in hoping that the circus wasn’t in town at her destination - the garish tents gave the game away. How was she supposed to investigate all the disappearances with this annoyance? 

The Alabaster Comb seemed to have brought everyone out of the woodwork, with its striped tents and admittedly well-painted signage. Felines with painted faces, a displacer beast lunging through a ring of flame, and overseeing all of it was a rather dapper-looking  pink-eyed rooster with his arms outstretched as if to cover the entirety of the circus. It was likely an embellishment, of course - carnies were never that handsome.

Cedarflute had so many extra bodies, so many distractions… it would be very easy for her quarry, the one responsible for those disappearances, to elude her piercing yellow gaze. Large crowds made it even more difficult to divine intentions. The best thing for it would be to find a place to stay, someplace quiet ideally…
Of course, the town was rammed with people. Brightly coloured performers, gawking slow-moving tourists, and - worst of all - screaming children who could have been having fun or getting murdered, it was impossible to say which.

After the first few bed-and-breakfasts and inns she approached gave her a sad, conciliatory shake of the head, she was beginning to feel like she would have to do things the old fashioned way. 
She groaned out loud when the realisation hit. 
“Drat it all…” She sighed and began to wander the cobblestone streets, slithering through the crowds. She never understood the appeal of circuses anyway. Detestable spectacles. 
She made her way into the throng of people, getting closer to the entrance to the main tent. Jostling, smelly bodies soon became too much. She had to hold her breath and push a little harder, ignoring the curses and yells of annoyance as she hurried until she managed to escape, before 

“You there! Madame! You with the beautiful h-white plumage!”
The light, plummy voice was every bit the voice of an impresario, and when she looked to the source, she was gazing into the eyes of the rooster she’d seen on the signage. Even as he approached with a confident stride, his plumage seemed to gleam. He was incredibly well-groomed, and his comb stood up high like a tower. He was very hale and hearty.
“Are you quite alright, Madame?” 
Anastasia cleared her throat. “Yes, perfectly fine, thank you sir.”
“I will admit, you’ve come on what has proven to be one of the most busy days of our tour!” The rooster closed the gap between them as he proffered a crisp-winged hand. “Someone like you deserves a stress-free experience.”
“Thank you,” she said, steeling herself and straightening her spine. She took his wing, and didn’t have time to shake it before he theatrically dropped to one knee and nuzzled his beak against it.
“Please, allow me to apologise on behalf of the Alabaster Comb! I am Thomasso, and it is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Aha…” Anastasia slipped her hand free from his grasp. “My name is Anastasia. You seem to have a good grip on the chaos of the crowd… perhaps you might be able to help me?”
“Mmm? Anything for a beautiful bird such as yourself.”
“I’d appreciate less flattery, thank you.” Anastasia tilted her head back with an imperious scoff. “I’m not some starry eyed farm girl you can seduce with a glance and a few charming words.”
“Perish the thought, m’dear!” Tomasso laughed. “Please, go ahead, tell me what it is I can do for you.”
“Well…” Anastasia paused. There was a very real chance that he was the culprit. She would have to choose her words carefully. “I’m looking for my sister. She looks a great deal like me. She had this foolish idea of running away from home…”
“And so, you used that crystal ball of yours to lead you here?”
Anastasia reflexively put a hand over her satchel. “How did you know?”
“Oh, I can spot your trinket’s outline in there. Though, I have to say, I haven’t seen your sister… perhaps I can help you divine it in some other way?”
He reached out to take her hand, and she retreated again. “How might you do that?”
“I have some subtle tricks of my own…” Thomasso raised his eyebrows, and his eyes opened a little wider - wider than seemed to be natural. “Look into my eyes, and I’ll help you find exactly what you seek.”
His pupils vanished, and his pink irises began to glow, and pulse, and swirl. 
Anastasia suddenly felt very relaxed. She wondered why she was so rude to him. Not when he had such beautiful eyes. She realised she must have spoken out of turn, and the only thing for it was to stare into his eyes quietly, and allow him to put his wings on her shoulders and pull her a little closer. She slid towards him like a branch in a breeze, and her head tilted and swayed as his own head moved with a snake-charmer silkiness. She sighed softly.
“Yes… and you see what you seek now,” Tomasso crooned, his eyes pulsing so gently, so beautifully. “You see where you need to go to find your missing girl… and to find yourself, for that matter. She’s come here to become one with my circus, and you could join in with her, if you would like.”
“I would like that,” Anastasia agreed, without thinking.
“Wonderful! Then, my darling, please, follow me…”
“I would like that,” Anastasia repeated.

He turned away from her now and again, just to ensure he was leading her in the right direction. But mostly, Anastasia was able to follow the sparkling beacons of those pink-and-white eyes. She had never felt quite so elated in her life, because he was leading her to… what was she doing again? Staring. That was it. That was all.

The periphery of her vision melted into swirls of pink and white, and she stumbled into darkness, the handsome rooster’s eyes and face still in perfect pin-sharp focus to lead her along.
“You are perhaps the prettiest bird I’ve ever laid my eyes upon… I would hate to see you leave, or to meddle with our affairs.”

Anastasia felt a hand brush against hers - something that felt like the shape of a paw, but with a smooth, hard, porous texture. 
She only could vaguely perceive the smiling face of the vulpine statue as she passed by it, as well as some of the other posed figures up ahead. Life-sized, life-like… 
Were she able to form thoughts, she would have immediately figured out how they were ‘made’.
“You don’t see your sister among our statues, do you?” 
“No…” Anastasia said. 
“Because that was a very flimsy lie, wasn’t it?”
“Yes…”
“That is perfectly alright, m’dear. But that doesn’t mean we can’t keep you around.”

There was a snorting sound from just ahead, the hint of something acrid, but the colourful eyes made it easy to ignore. Less so when the ringmaster stepped to the side abruptly, and a huge flat snout leered out at her from the darkness. Two gleaming yellow eyes were just above it, and two gleaming ivory horns just above that. 

Thomasso crowed, and the bull exhaled a thick jet of smoke-breath over her, directly into her open mouth. The inside of her mouth, and her throat, turned very dry. She spluttered, and tried to cough - but nothing was coming out. No sound. The dryness turned into a weighty numbness. She reached up to touch her throat, and touched solid stone, spreading downwards and upwards.
She needed to…
She saw the colourful eyes again, and smiled just as her beak calcified into stone.
“No need to feel any fear, my darling,” Thomasso cooed. “Just strike a pose for me, a pose that encapsulates your beautiful femininity.”
Anastasia nodded stiffly. The owl managed to take her crystal ball from her satchel and hold it aloft in the palm of her hand, the other wing resting just between her stomach and her ribcage - just in time for the soft plumage to turn to hard stone. 
Her thoughts went quiet as her head turned hard, and her legs stiffened. 
What little bit of consciousness remained behind those blank, stony eyes was consumed by pink and white. 

Thomasso rubbed his wing hands together.
“She is wonderful… perhaps our finest statue yet, eh Petru?”
The Gorgon snorted.
“Yes yes, of course, I’ll get you some food. Just let me admire her…”
He slid his hands along the cold stone, along the curvature of her body, disrobing her - she had to match all the other statues in their nudity, after all. By the time his tour had ended, he would have a full gallery of beautiful statues… and he would be able to put down roots and retire from the tiring carnie life.

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