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What was a con-man? A person who cheats? Who lies? All to just convince someone of something so obviously untrue? Or what is a person who hurts people to try to fill the hole in their chest, knowing and continuing to make it bigger? Someone so fake that they themselves don't even know who they are. Someone so alone that even when surrounded the space still feels empty, they are empty.
A Con-man is inherently the worst thing to ever exist- there was nothing to love. No personality, no face, no heart, just an act and even that act itself is nothing to love, nothing to grasp.
Kremy was nobody hiding behind a persona that was just as fake- if someone was to pull the curtain down he’d too be an exposed wizard- or warlock, close enough anyway. Regardless, his yellow brick road rusted, his path darkened by power, deceit, selfishness- the list goes on. The people who walked with him didn't need a heart, or a brain or even courage, in fact they had that all.
Gideon was basically courage in a nutshell, protective and caring, he'd run head first into anything if it meant saving someone, or even sometimes for the hell of it.
Frost was intelligent, more brains than most would know what to do with- aiding with a sharp comment or two, skillfully proving his intelligence through words and magic.
Gricko was the heart, someone so naive yet strongwilled, he cares for just about anything, arms open to the ugliest of creatures or the most broken of souls.
Kremy wasn't the lion, the scarecrow or the tinman, hell he wasn't even trying to get home either. Home was nothing to him and he felt the same- he had nothing to go back to. Kremy had no courage, no heart, and not enough intelligence unless he was screwing over a drunk in a bar over poker.
Kremy was useless, his front the only thing keeping his head held high, his temper keeping people from questioning him. And once he himself could no longer hold onto the strings pulling him along it would all soon crumble, he'd lose it all. Everything he worked for? Hardly. But everything he so selfishly wants? Kremy wouldn't be the selfish con-man he was known to be if he denied himself his wants. Or possibly needs? Was Kremy nothing without this crew? Without the heart, the brain or the courage?
Kremy tried his makeship pot on his shitty makeship cooking spot, with pisspor excuse of a fire- the flame itself was incredibly warm thanks to the fire-genasi yet Kremy cant even set up logs good enough, can't even make a meal good enough to aid in the people that keeps their rag-tag crew alive.
“I'm hungryyyyyyy…” Whined the heart
“You are hungry? Try being me- Im a walking fire pit- calories fear me.” Bantered the courage, a hearty laugh following.
“That doesn't make sense, calories cannot fear anything.” The brain questions, even his logic has bounds.
“Well then, it's a good thing I'm not just anything.” Gloated the courage while the heart whooped and hollered in support- both ignoring the mumbled rambling of the brain.
They fit together like a misshapen puzzle, oddly beautiful despite the fact there is no name for them, nothing to describe- just existing.
Kremy didn't even have the pleasure of just existing- he felt like a void in the shell of his own species. Kremy was nothing- lizardfolk don't even fit him- for he may be scaly, human in every way while also not- even if he stood out. Maybe that's why he dressed up, his drawn on mustache isn't even the fakest thing on him. Kremy so desperately wanted to make himself into something and yet after all this time all he has done is make others think he is something more than an good for nothing gator- for if he continues holding his head high, making himself seem big, voice held tight and sharp, if he sounds like he is better than he is, if he sounds like he has the upperhand then they think he does.
It's not magic, it's called lying- lying to himself, lying to everyone. Kremy was nothing- nothing without them he supposes- maybe if they were the heart, the courage and the brain, then maybe Kremy can be the golden brick road, maybe he can bring them to places where they can thrive- or maybe not. Oz- its not magic, its lies that too many people believed in. Like a myth- some legend is told so many times that it becomes true. Like the Rogarou- a beast to come alive from the creole and cajun children- their belief so strong- fear so great- the beast roams the swamps. Kremy feels like that beast- someone who is human by day and beast by night- or possibly the version of the beast that is always a creature just waiting to add this misery onto someone else. Kremy was scared by the Rogarou when he was hatchling, and now he is some twisted version of the beast. Even when out of the swamps he stills feels the curse twitching underneath his skin, real or not, haunting him.
The story changes from person to person, from parent to child, family to family, Kremy remembers as a kid he was a specific version of the beast, told about how it can shapeshift into anything, he remembers being told this was a worst version of the boogeyman- something he cannot escape. Kremy was terrified by the tale, he would fear his brother being the Rogarou in disguise, it kept him up some nights, he would try to be so good- to appease the Rogarou and not face its wrath. Kremy was always a coward- he was a coward who came from the swamps, a coward that was dirt poor. So he ran, ran away from the swamps, away from the beast lurking the corners- for he is no saint.
Maybe if he could get better things from himself, make himself a name, then maybe he wouldn't feel like a beast in the swamps, to feel like the mythical beast from his past, a trickster, someone who hurts others, someone who puts their misery onto others, no matter the version, Kremy felt the monstrous feeling just beneath his scales.
It burned- he was a monster.
Why did it burn so much?
Suddenly the blurred background of reality fluttered back into consciousness, his roux was a deep dark color, it was gorgeous, the one good thing he got from his childhood, his meemaw standing over him, reminding him a roux was the patient man- you cannot rush a roux. Roux was dangerously delicious, the richness from the dark color, his meemaw always told him brown or darker, that's what made a good gumbo, and if he wanted a flavorful one, he must always use the drippings from his meat. She also told him to always be careful while cooking, especially roux, the burns from it bubbling up, the mixture of flour and drippings getting hotter than many can handle, she has a few from her many years of experience.
And despite the fact Kremy was nowhere near as good or as experienced as his meemaw, he too now has the scars of making a good roux, or decent if he chose to not lie to himself.
Kremy hissed in pain, recoiling his hand that was once continuously stirring the notorious liquid gold, his heart was pounding in his chest, his nostrils flared.
“Kremy? Are you-?"
“I'm fine Gricko, thanks for asking.” Mardi Gras masks were beautiful that way, like a peacock putting their feathers on display as a defensive mechanism, hiding behind a beauty, hiding behind a larger than life persona.
“Are you sure-?”
“I SAID IM FINE!” Kremy’s nostrils flared once more, he turned his body towards the much shorter man faster and harsher than he should have, his words and body betraying Kremy, allowing the beast within, his childhood fear consuming him. Kremy was the beast he once feared, and possibly still does, is that why he felt wrong? Incorrect?
The roux is burning, he can smell it. Burnt roux has always been one of the worst smells Kremy has ever had the misfortune of smelling, it was a piece of his past, a sick and twisted version of nostalgia laid heavy on his bones.
Kremy felt his heart beating in his ears- he was aware he was breathing heavily, he was aware all eyes were on him.
Courage, heart, brain, they all looked at the unveiled warlock, Oz was a fraud, Kremy was a fraud.
A monstrous fraud.
Kremys tail flickered nervously, the pot of roux was now spilled, his tail also injured, but he felt nothing compared to the way his heart beat like a drum, pounding louder and louder. Oz was a nobody, and now that the veil was gone, there was no need for him to stand there and pretend. A swift turn, the gatorfolk barely registered the ruined roux on his dress shoes, all he could focus on was how harsh his breathing was, all he could focus was his ever so beating heart, it was all he could hear as he stopped off towards the deeper and darker parts of the woods, much like what he grew up with, the swamps were where the monsters belonged after all.
Lies were what Kremy was built on, control is what gave Kremy his skill, and now? Lies wrapped around Kremy’s appendages, control fading as each lie he's ever told comes back and haunts him, was this his curse? Was he the monster he feared?
Why question it, he is a monster, he steals, lies, cheats, no quality that he proudly displays could be described as good.
Oz was a fraud, and still was a provider, still helped.
Kremy on the other hand did the opposite, he made his problems become theirs, the group taking on the burden of Kremy.
Kremy was running- he always has been running. It always changed from what, he never stopped long enough to see what was or wasn't chasing him, he just needed to run.
Running led to where he was, but maybe running could lead him out of it?
“Krem?” The darkness was interrupted with the walking lantern wandering around. It took the sickening familiar dark and gloomyness of the woods, the illusion of the swamps fading as Gideon got closer.
Courage. Who else would follow an angry and unpredictable warlock into the dark woods?
Anger still simmered, or maybe fear? Kremy may be humanoid but he feels like a full on caged animal- backed into a corner. Kremy always hated his more animalistic features, his hissing, chirping, growling, and even bellowing. All of it was embarrassing to him, things deeply rooted into his identity, not the one he keeps displayed but the one that he so desperately tries to hide.
Kremy isn't sure what he notices first, the heat that blesses his scales or the dark corner of the woods he hid himself now being brighter than the night should ever allow. And what's worse? This wasn't even Gideon at his brightest, if Kremy didn't burn himself with the roux, then he would have dinner done and the beautifully glowing man would shine brighter than any star.
“Whaddou want Gid?” The words weren't sharp, nor were they mean, and yet they still felt like tar leaving his lips. Gideon was someone who should run away from Kremy, yet the walking fire-ball always sought out the gator instead of letting the moody reptile fester in his bad moods.
“What makes you think I'm out here looking for you? What if I'm just on a midnight scroll?” The walking furnace asked, the tilt of his head obvious with the shadow that danced along the ground.
“You literally called out my name, dumbass.”
“Oh right.”
If Kremy wasn't in such a foul mood then maybe he would have laughed at the natural charm Gideon unknowingly walked around with- Barron when Gideon added the charm on, the fire-genasi wasn't even aware of how much power he truly has. Gideon simply huffed out a laugh, laughing at his own forgetfulness, courage, he could take his mistakes in stride, unlike Kremy would need to hide them, a mask so bold, it's distracting, it keeps what's behind it locked away.
Gideon stood next to the humanoid, the only noise was the occasional sizzle and cracks from the walking furnace, he stood next to the warlock as if they were equals. And if Kremy was in a better state of mind, his greed would overcome him, he'd comment how he is not an equal, far superior. But he was not, and as of right now his greed was crushed by his fictitious personality crumbling, he was far less.
Gideon's courage was something to be treasured, and here they both stood, wasting his shining light
“I will make something else for dinner.”
“Im not worried about the dinner, man.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Do you really think we don't care about you man?”
“No, in fact I think you do care, and that in itself is the problem.’
“A problem? Krem, I think you got more than just some burns, you must have hit your head. There is no problem in caring.”
“Of course you wouldn't understand.”
A scoff fell into the air between them, “I wouldn't understand? Try me.”
That scoff did something to Kremy, maybe it was the way it felt so heated- more than the heat Gideon was currently giving off, Kremy glanced at the other, his face wasn't the usual calm or indifferent, he had a slight scowl, his eyes betraying the scowl with the concern that laced them. Kremy laughed, full chested laugh, head thrown back, his maw opening wider than ever.
Kremy must have looked insane, something predatory about his beast-like features on full display, his hat had fallen off, landing onto the marsh-like ground below. He really was the beast of the swamps, a vile creature who took pleasure in having the upper hand, and Gideon was next to him.
The fire-genasi picked up the hat that had fallen, he was no longer offended, he watched the lizardfolk who he has now considered family, struggle with inner demons much bigger than both of them. Kremy was a man with many talents, and most of them were covers to the ones hidden beneath, someone so silver-tongued, quick witted, he used these skills to fool everyone including himself.
Life was a gamble, Kremy would know, he's been dealing with cards since he was younger, and now? He infected the man who truly sees Kremy as more than what he really is, greed too was something Gideon was familiar with.
Courage- bravery to stand in front of danger, courage- to do something risky for your own wants.
“How do you feel about monsters, Gid?”
“Are they hurting any of you?” So quick to puff out his chest and stand guard.
Courage.
“Hypotetically.”
“Hmm, I suppose what a monster is? Something ugly or big? Scary or different? As long as we are safe, that's what matters to me Krem, if you are safe.”
Kremy felt his tongue swipe at his sharp teeth, the very teeth anchored into his jaw-sockets, creating a tantalizing danger, to know his bite was much worse than his bark, 18 times stronger than normal, made perfectly for a predator.
A monster.
Gideon was not familiar with the many beasts that roamed the woods, he wasn't aware of the many creatures that existed, but he was sure there was no monster currently haunting their group. Even as he watched mesmerized- The lizard folk truly was a force to be reckoned with, sharp tongue with even sharper teeth, the way he could easily slither his way around many people, practised ease as he conned and stole whatever he wished.
Kremy was dangerous in the best way possible, it made Gideon burn brighter than ever, a feeling in his gut he couldn't ignore, the way the teeth shined in the moon light, the laughter that felt far too real for the situation at hand.
To Gideon, Kremy was more than a beast, he was something that needed to be displayed, not to show his dangers, but to show that this is what perfection is, nothing can top the suited up lizardfolk.
Nothing ever would.
“Maybe a monster is what we make it, I suppose that is how legends are made.” A ghost of a smirk hinted at the reptile's voice.
“I like legends.” Gideon spoke, just barely above a whisper, the air warm around them.
“I suppose I can come to like them too.”