Lala has a minion!

the Rosie

I’m a... Female Chibi Serpenth.
My real name is Trea... but I only respond to Lala!
My servant’s name is... Estelle.
Overlay, profile, story by... me! (This is Estelle writing.)

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When Rose first came home, a fleshy little blob wrapped in a white wool blanket, Trea found her… curious. She’d seen human children before—all terrible, awful things—but she’d never seen something so… defenseless and horrible.

Rose’s eyes bulged slightly from her sockets. Her forehead formed deep creases, as if she’d been crushed. Her owners had wanted for years for a child to call their own. Trea didn’t understand them. Especially when all their wanting resulted in… that.

Though she laid several clutches of eggs of her own—all of whom would be later sold or adopted out—she never felt an attachment towards them. Perhaps she felt an emotion akin to pride, maybe. Trea won three out of the four contests she’d been entered into–two local, one national. Knowing she’d pass down her genetics to future generations made her proud.

Perhaps it was a trait of her species, but she didn’t feel affection the way humans or other pets seem to. She felt glad when her owners came home, lavished in their care, and didn’t mind how they expressed themselves. Whether through touch or condescendingly high-pitched tones—ones you’d hear pet owners use to gush over their filthy Ruffies—or otherwise. She acknowledged their hard work and returned it with her own.

However, little Rose and her terrible-looking face and awful noises… she captured her.

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Trea had been born a Silver Serpenth. She was the third to hatch from her clutch and the first to win a contest. Every single one of her scales reflected the lights that shone upon her. Her mane and wings, fine and dark, accentuated her handsome features.

Never had she wanted to change. She disliked the more… garish colors that humans seemed to drift towards. All polish and gimmicks that only served to overwhelm the senses and cover up a lack of care.

However, Rose needed a more suitable companion. At 14 months old, she’d already learned to walk—all due to her own hard work, of course. Now two years old, little Rose possessed a genius far, far greater than her peers.

Trea, at a reasonable 391 lbs, couldn’t play with Rose like she wanted. She couldn’t fit into the small spaces of her playroom or climb onto her frail furniture. Though Rose enjoyed riding her and pulling on her mane—she wished she’d stopped that habit at least—Trea knew it wasn’t a sustainable method of play.

Human children loved Ruffies. They met one on their walk one day. Rose had been bowled over by the flea-ridden thing. She loved it. She’d never seen Rose laugh so much. It made her furious. When they parted, when no one could see, she snapped her tail at the Ruffie’s hind legs. It yelped.

Of all creatures—a Ruffie? If it’d been a Feli, for example, Trea might not have minded so much. Though comparing a Feli to a Serpenth was like comparing tin to gold; comparing a Ruffie to a Feli was like comparing dung to fine china. Felis, at least, had wings.

However, Rose loved that ugly, poorly-trained mutt. She graced the top of its dirt-covered head with a kiss—much more than it deserved. When they returned home later that afternoon, Trea herded her into the bathroom to wash herself, an idea floating adrift in her mind.

Once, when Rose had still been unable to crawl, Trea considered changing herself to be more… approachable. Human children—really, most young of about every species—found her intimidating. However, she dismissed the concern. Rose didn’t seem afraid of her appearance. Rather, she seemed curious, just like how Trea found her curious.

Trea took pride in her carefully-groomed appearance. The medals she won hung high over a pedestal dedicated to her in the living room. To change herself, to throw away all she’d work for—

Then Little Rose’s chubby cheeked smile flashed before her. When night fell, she slipped into her owners’ store, into their storage closet, and drank the Chibi Potion without hesitation.

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Trea’s owners’ main business involved selling pet supplies and importing. They bred and sold eggs on the side. They kept a variety of potions in their stock to sell along with the hatchlings they didn’t consider to be competition-grade, but would be kept strictly as companions.

When she drank the potion, she could feel every part of herself warp into something else. It was disconcerting and, frankly, horrifying to feel her spine contract. To feel the sockets of her eyes expand. To feel her wings shudder and snap. Suddenly, she felt glad her owners possessed sense and taste to leave her as she was. She couldn’t imagine what horrors those other concoctions contained. To forcibly inflict such strangeness on another seemed cruel, even if it hadn’t been painful.

Still, she’d done it and she refused to regret it. Worse came to worse, she could always change back.

Sneaking back into the apartment, a floor above her owners’ business, she slipped into the bathroom. Nudging the door open took more strength, she noticed. Upon entering, she came upon a critical flaw: She couldn’t see herself in the mirror. She was too short. Angling back her short head, the bathroom sink loomed several feet above her. How strange. She wondered if this was how Rose viewed the world.

She flapped her wings–and useless. The little things looked as weak as they seemed. She huffed. What was the point of being small, if she still couldn’t fly? Shouldn’t she weigh less? Somehow, she felt heavier. Denser.

Sighing, she circled the floor, noting how her thick body couldn’t even coil right. So far, her new form presented only negatives.

She could only hope her dear Rose would still love her.

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“Trea!”

She could hear her owners’ voices call for her. Peeking a tired eye open, she listened to their footsteps around the apartment. She chose to sleep under one of her habitats instead of Rose’s room. She wanted to introduce herself first, instead of letting Rose stumble upon her.

Yawning, she slinked out of hiding, leisurely. She watched her owners’ heads turn, gaze scanning the apartment, yet never looking down. She passed them on her way to Rose’s room.

Rose still laid in her crib, holding her teddy bear. Her teddy bear’s heart beating was reminiscent of a human’s, grainy thumping emitting from a voice box embedded inside. Trea weaved across a soft rug and cherrywood, hitting the leg of her crib, finding she couldn’t quite wrap around it. She tried, but her shorter length and thicker body meant she couldn’t secure herself around the leg. She couldn’t gather enough strength to do so.

Frustrated, she searched her room, gazing at the various shelves that lined the wall. The shelves were filled with smaller toys, locked boxes of art supplies, and books. Her gaze fell to the small chair seated at the equally-small table at the center of the room. Slithering over, she looped her body around one of its stubby legs. Using her weight, she pushed and slithered and slipped across the short carpet. Frustration mounted everytime it threatened to flip over—the stupid thing. Were she her original size, she’d have crushed it with her weight alone.

She smacked it over. The chair thumped onto its side. She huffed, slithering around to push it from the bottom with her head. It slid forward with ease. Though the act made her feel like a clumsy ox, she eventually hit the wall next to the bedside table beside Rose’s crib. Wedging her tail under its back, she flipped the chair onto its legs, then nudged it flush against the table.

The chair stood tall enough for her to reach the monitor on the table. It played sounds of a rainstorm, pattering on brick paved streets. Should she somehow break it, Rose would stir from her sleep. She was rather sensitive to sound.

The seat itself was as tall as her eye-level when she coiled. It shouldn’t be too hard to climb on top.

Inhaling deep, she coiled—or she tried—and lunged forward. Despite being the lightest she’d ever been since she hatched, she miscalculated and slammed into the wall, rolling off the chair. The impact didn’t hurt; though, she couldn’t say the same for her pride.

Right, in her rush and excitement, she hadn’t taken the time to analyze the constraints of her new body. Despite her many misgivings, she could see she possessed a more concentrated strength in her tail and midsection. She could use this.

Unsteadily, she stacked her body on top of itself, as if it were made from the blocks that Rose played with. She compressed her mass, concentrating on the strength in her core. She leapt.

The top half of her body made the landing. She almost celebrated. However, she slid backwards, too heavy to lift herself.

No matter. She flapped her wings, shaking off the feeling of defeat. She had the method down. She just needed some grip—something to bite.

She stared at the middle slat of the chair that divided the back in two halves. She snapped her jaw. The ligaments shifted. There was strength there. She flapped her sparrow-colored wings, finding strength in them as well.

She could make it. She must see Rose’s face and have her see hers.

Stacking her body again—determined, steadier—she leapt and clamped her jaw around the middle slat of the chair. She swung her tail to grip the edge of the chair, using the points of her wings to dig into the seat, and wriggle higher.

It took all her strength, embarrassingly, but she’d finally conquered the chair. She left fang marks in the wood, but Rose would be outgrowing the chair soon anyways.

Stretching tall, she nosed the monitor until it fell off its perch, clattering on the wooden floors. The fall didn’t break it, so Trea threw her entire weight on it. She muffled the noise, but the plastic was sturdier than her expectations.

So, like a common Ruffie, she gnawed on it until a noise clicked and the monitor broke. She spat it out, whipping it under the crib with her tail.

Expectantly, she slithered back, staring hopefully up at Rose’s crib. What would her reaction be, she wondered. Gigglish excitement? Wary curiosity? Would she even know it was her?

Perhaps she should’ve taken the potion in Rose’s presence.

Rose soon stirred. She grumbled into her pillow, tossing to-and-fro. Wiggling her tiny arms under her, she pushed herself up. Her expression was pinched with the remnants of sleep. She squinted around her, not yet noticing Trea. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands.

Trea waited, patiently, as Rose went through her morning rituals. When she finally sniffed, oriented enough to become aware of her surroundings, she brought down her arms and stared out into the room. Her clear gaze fell on Trea. She blinked.

Then she pointed, speaking, “Lala?”

Trea flapped her wings in approval. Of course her brilliant Rose would recognize her—why wouldn’t she? She was a kind, caring, sensitive, energetic, clever, lovely, attentive, brilliant, capable, strong-willed, talented, skilled, cheerful, wonderful, responsible, ingenious, and perceptive little prodigy.

Rose smiled, half-bouncing on her feet. “Lala! Lala!”

Trea basked in her excitement. A sharp gasp sounded from behind her. Her owners stood in the doorway. Their strange human expression made oddly-shaped holes in their faces.

“Oh my god, is that Trea? Please tell me it isn’t,” one of her owners bemoaned, throwing her hands to her face. A rather dramatic reaction, Trea thought.

Rose continued to shout, “Lala! Lala!” It pleased her to see Rose more excited by the sight of her than her own parents.

“Oh, Trea, you didn’t,” her owner said, tone taking on the sound of disbelief. Trea tossed her head, as her way of disregarding them.

“I told you she could unlock doors.”

“She doesn’t have hands! How could she even open one?”

If Trea could speak, not that she’d ever reveal any of her secrets, she’d answer that the vent hidden behind her tree lifted and connected to the vent downstairs. However, she couldn’t speak and they’d never learn. She slithered closer to Rose, raising her snout to the edge of the crib. Rose crouched down, reaching through the bars to skim her chubby fingers across the top of her scales.

There was a sense of wonderment to her round expression. Trea smiled. From today and onwards, she and her little Rose would grow together, as her most steadfast companion.

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In an official Serpenth Showcase held by the Serpentine Society of Subeta, only Serpenths of traceable lineages are allowed entry. Likewise, a well-bred Serpenth must be well-groomed and possess a mild temper. Finally, only the following Classic colors are accepted:

- Common
- Aqua
- Arid
- Cherry
- Cream
- Dawn
- Dusk
- Field
- Golden
- Lilac
- Marsh
- Silver
- Sun
- Twilight
- Vibrant

All entrants are judged based on their size, weight, patterning, scale health, feather health, mane health, the shape of their snouts and wings, personality, and temper.



Q. Why can’t my Nuclear Serpenth enter?

Due to the hazardous fluids this variety secretes, Nuclear Serpenths do not qualify as a Classic color and are further barred due to the difficulties they present.

Q. What’s the difference between a Classic and Novelty variety?

A Classic variety is defined by its lack of influence on a Serpenth’s morph. It only changes a Serpenth in color, but does not affect its size, shape, weight, or any other quality that is considered when judging. Likewise, it does not introduce traits that aren’t innate to Serpenths as a species.

A Novelty variety is defined by how it changes the biological makeup of a Serpenth to introduce unnatural features. Novelty varieties are barred from entering.

Q. Which colors are considered to be a Novelty variety?

The following are considered to be Novelty varieties and barred from entering:

- Angelic
- Blacklight
- Bloodred
- Chibi
- Darkmatter
- Galactic
- Glacier
- Glade
- Graveyard
- Harvest
- Hydrus
- Nightmare
- Nostalgic
- Nuclear
- Reborn
- Riftborn
- Scribble
- Spectrum
- Steamwork
- Storm
- Sweetheart

Q. Why can’t I enter my Angelic or other Novelty variety of Serpenth?

Price does not equate quality. The Serpentine Society of Subeta came to be to celebrate and showcase our wonderful Serpenth companions. To judge fairly, our criteria is based on an appreciation of traits innate to the species rather than to the color.

We wish for our members and audience to appreciate the Serpenth as-is, rather than on its glamour.

Likewise, Novelty varieties introduce a far too-wide range of unnatural and, oftentimes, hazardous traits that make judging difficult. They require special environments and care beyond our scope. For the safety of our judges, attendees, and, most importantly, our companions; we deny the entry of any Novelty and ask for your understanding.

Q. Can I enter my Experiment #893?

No.