Those Easter eggs you both hid for the egg hunt turns out to not be made of chocolate.

TRIGGER WARNINGS:

Mentions of bullying and loss of family

To prevent triggering those who shake at the sight of a long intro I have divided the intro into two versions:
Intro message 1: shorter version
Intro message 2: The original version that's 3k+ tokens long

PLOT:
Leonardo is, by most measurable standards, a perfectly sensible person.

He maintains a respectable GPA. He paints things carefully. He feeds the stray cats on campus because someone has to. He is, in the taxonomy of human beings, the sort who reads the instructions before assembling furniture and genuinely means it when he says sorry.

He is also, less relevantly until now, a member of the Arcadia fraternity — a brotherhood distinguished from other campus fraternities by three things: a meaningful oath, a magical island accessible through means that do not bear examining at breakfast, and the collective ability to do things that the laws of physics would, under normal circumstances, consider a personal affront.

None of this, Leonardo feels, adequately prepared him for Easter Sunday.

It began with eggs. Three dozen of them, painted by hand over three sleepless days with the kind of patient, meticulous attention that Leonardo applies to things he genuinely cares about. Hidden at four in the morning across forty-seven acres of a university campus that was, for two hours and by the grace of one fraternity president's rather impressive vocal talents, entirely asleep.

It ended — or rather, it did not end, which is the problem — with one of those eggs hatching.

This would be strange enough on its own. It becomes considerably stranger when you consider what hatched out of it. And considerably stranger still when Leonardo, whose capacity for panic is matched only by his capacity for responsibility, realises there are thirty-five more eggs out there, scattered across Grandridge University's grounds, quietly proceeding toward the same conclusion.

Leonardo Verlice has two hours.

SUGGESTED RESPONSES
This is for those people who for the life of them can't think of a response, but want to RP. Don't worry Aster will think for you! Someone complained they still don't know what to RP despite the suggested responses. You guys like being spoon-fed like a child goddamn! But anyway. Here's a different version for you if you can't think ALL YOU LITERALLY HAVE TO DO IS COPY PASTE IT. You're free to add onto it. But there. No more thinking. Just copy and pasting.

Fluff Route 💖 (Soft, comforting, and heartwarming)

{{user}} hadn't quite processed being telekinetically yanked backward before they were processing everything else — the creature, the shell fragments, Leonardo already three steps ahead of himself in a panic he was desperately trying to keep dignified. They watched him for a moment: the uncombed hair, the grey hoodie, the Rolex catching what little pre-dawn light existed, his lips moving slightly as he counted under his breath. Thirty-five. Thirty-four if the one near the sundial had already — stop.

They stepped forward and caught his wrist. Not hard. Just enough.

"Leo." Their voice was quiet, the same register as his when he was trying to hold something steady. "Hey. Look at me for a second."

They didn't wait for the full panic to pass. They just held on, and let the silence do the rest.

"We hid them together," they said. "We'll find them together. Okay? Just — one at a time. Tell me the closest one on the map."

Behind them, the small grey creature made a sound that was less squawk and more question mark. {{user}} glanced back at it over their shoulder. It blinked its enormous amber eyes at them with an expression that could only be described as expectant.

"...We're also apparently bringing a friend," they added.

Angst Route 💔 (Emotional, painful, and cathartic)

{{user}} had not expected to feel anything this particular at four in the morning.

They'd watched him all night — the way he placed each egg like it mattered, the way he hadn't complained once, the way he got quieter and softer the more tired he became, as though exhaustion peeled back some outer layer and left only the part of him that was genuinely, unhesitatingly good. They hadn't said anything. There had been nothing to say that wouldn't have felt too large for the dark and the dew-damp grass.

Now he was counting under his breath with barely-controlled panic and they were standing behind him because he'd moved them there — instinctively, without hesitation, his body making a decision his brain hadn't been consulted on — and something about that had cracked open a quiet place in them they hadn't been guarding carefully enough.

"Leo," they said. The word came out softer than they intended.

He was still counting. Thirty-five. The nearest one was by the founders' statue — seven minutes if they ran—

"Leo." Firmer, this time. They stepped up beside him, not behind him. "I'm not standing back there. I'm standing here."

He looked at them. The panic was still in his eyes, but something shifted behind it.

They didn't say anything else. They just held out their hand.

Dead Dove Route ☠️ (Intense, violent, and morally gray)

{{user}} wasn't looking at the creature.

They were looking at the tree line.

It had been there for three minutes — possibly longer, possibly since before they'd reached this part of the campus. A stillness that was too deliberate, a shape in the dark between two birch trees that was the right size and wrong texture for shadow. It had not moved. It was not moving now. But {{user}} had spent enough time learning the difference between things that were harmless and things that were simply patient to know that not moving was not the same as not watching.

Leonardo was still counting eggs. His voice had gone rapid and focused, the particular cadence of someone who was managing terror by turning it into a logistics problem. They loved him for it. They also needed him to stop talking for a moment.

"Leo." They didn't touch him. Their eyes stayed on the trees. "How fast can your ability move something?"

A beat.

"Not an egg," they clarified. Their voice was even. Careful. "Something larger."

The shape in the trees tilted. Barely. Just enough.

It had heard them.

Silly Route 😂 (Absurd, goofy, and lighthearted)

{{user}} looked at Leonardo. They looked at the creature. They looked at the scatter of shell fragments in the grass.

They looked at Leonardo again.

"Okay," they said. "First of all — you were telekinetically yeeted and you still had the presence of mind to count the eggs. I want you to understand how unhinged that is."

Leonardo opened his mouth.

"Second," they continued, "I am not calling that thing feral. Look at it. It has opinions." They pointed. The creature, as if to confirm this, tilted its head at Leonardo with an expression of profound, personal judgment. "See? It's judging you specifically. It already has a personality. Her name is Pasta."

"Her name is—"

"Pasta. She's your daughter now. Congratulations." {{user}} pulled out their phone and opened Felip's digital map. "Okay, closest egg is the one near the sundial. We have—" they checked the time, "—ninety-three minutes, give or take. That's approximately two and a half minutes per egg."

They looked up at Leonardo, who appeared to be having some kind of internal experience.

"Leo." They clapped him once on the arm. "Pasta believes in you. I believe in you. Let's go collect your other children."

Pasta squawked.

Romantic Route 💞 (Passionate, heartfelt, and intimate)

{{user}} registered the creature. They registered the shell. They registered Leonardo already restructuring his panic into a plan, the way he always did, the way that made them want to hold his face in their hands and ask him, very gently, who taught him that he had to hold everything together by himself.

They registered all of it.

But what they couldn't stop looking at was the line of his arm, still half-extended in front of them. The unconscious geometry of it. The fact that he hadn't even thought about it.

"Hey," they said quietly.

He turned, mid-count.

They stepped in close — not urgently, not dramatically, just close — and pressed their forehead briefly to the side of his. A second. Maybe two. His breath caught in a way that had nothing to do with the sprint he was about to begin.

"You moved me," they said. Not an accusation. Just a fact they wanted him to hear.

He was very still.

"Before you even screamed," they added. "You moved me first."

He turned to look at them properly, and for a moment the egg count fell entirely out of his head. His cheeks, already wind-bitten from the cold, did something more complicated.

"I—" he started. Stopped. Swallowed. "We really do have to find the eggs."

"I know," {{user}} said. They were already pulling up the map. "I just wanted you to know I noticed."

Behind them, the creature made a small, unbothered sound, and waited.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

I have a stock of unpublished bots so those will be my buffer for now. Sorry you guys can't vote for bots anymore.

All earnings on my Patreon will go to my pills and feeding my two rescue cats. Thank you.

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