Dunduei (12/10/24)

In Dunduei, a scenic tourist trail ringed the less urban western side of the port, passing lazily through cultivated public gardens and occasionally looking out onto the bay and the steadily-busying beaches directly across. Yellup had rejected the idea of going to the beach out of hand. It was much too public, they’d already been to the beach twice in the season, and just the idea of Yellup being in Dunduei turned everyone into a comedian. But the mid-spring weather was irresistible to Yellow, and the two had compromised on a relaxing stroll through one of the less-trafficked parts of the city. Yellup suspected they owed them for taking the track, anyway. 

“Stop for a minute,” Yellow asked, for what was perhaps the fifth time in the last twenty minutes. Yellup continued on for a pointed few seconds before coming to a reluctant halt. 

Glancing back, they saw Yellow with their rented binoculars arched towards the upper boughs of a tree. “Another bird?” they asked, suspecting they already knew the answer. 

Yellow didn’t deign to reply until their binoculars were fully adjusted. “I think it has a nest,” they murmured. “I didn’t even know a bird could be that green.” 

Yellup huffed, rolling their eyes. “What’s so special about a bird that looks like a Limer?” 

Yellow didn’t deign them an answer, lost to a zen state. Dunduei had some interesting wildlife, but a bird could only ever be worth so much attention, Yellup thought. “Caw caw! Caw caw!” they called, a poor imitation of a bird. But it came out unexpectedly loud. 

Startled by the sudden noise, a shimmering ball of feathers burst through the greenery from whence it had previously gone undetected. Yellup filled with alarm when Yellow turned to them, visibly frustrated. 

“Seriously?” Yellow scolded. “What’s gotten into you?” 

It had seemed funny in the moment. Now Yellup began to feel embarrassment set in. “It was just a bird,” they mumbled, though even then it felt a lazy excuse. 

“But you’ve had this crappy attitude the entire time we’ve been here. What was all the big talk about coming to Dunduei to confront your demons for, huh?” 

Yellup cringed at the sound of their own words repeated back to them. Their fault, they conceded to themself; Yellow’s memory was photographic, and they never forgot. “Oh, it’s fine for the bird to leave when things get hairy, but not me?” 

“Forget about the bird. Look, I’m not making you hang out with me, so go back to the hotel if you want to stay inside.”

“Well, you wanted it, and I’m sick of disappointing you!” Yellup barked, only to quickly wish they could take it back. “And by that I mean-” 

“Look, let’s leave it. This place is too public, anyway,” Yellow conceded. “Just be honest with me if you’re in a bad mood, m’kay?” 

“Yeah, okay. This city just messes with my head. Anything I can do to make it up to you?” 

“How about you take my photo with that bird?” replied Yellow, gesturing to a not-too-distant statue of a giant flightless bird in the middle of the park. 

Yellup laughed, the first time they’d laughed since arriving. “Can do,” they replied, pulling out their phone and waiting for Yellow to get in position in front. 

Just as the camera had finished its blurring and adjusting, finally putting Yellow in focus in front of the statue, but before Yellup could snap a photo, the phone jolted with a notification. It was Yellup’s turn to be startled, tapping onto the message instead of the camera button. 

“Wait, it’s not loading…” 

“What’s the hold-up, Yellup?” 

–

The video opened to the interior of a bar filled with blue island-themed furnishings. Blinds over the windows obscured the room to the outside while still allowing slits of light in. Over half the paddock was crammed inside, sectioned into their own small groups, some concentrated in cushy booths while others stood or surrounded the bar. One such figure at the bar was Red Eye, who the camera was intently focused on. Surrounding Red Eye was Yellow Eye, Pinky Panther, Mallard and Ruzzy, but most notably Snowy, who was not seated – rather, they and Red Eye were in the midst of a confrontation. 

“-because you’re not so perfect now, are you?” barked Snowy, the first part of their confrontation clipped by the filmer’s delay. It’s really heating up, mumbled a quiet voice from behind the camera, audible now the rest of the room was quieting. “Yeah, you think you’re the most important marble out there, but you’re not! And I know you think I’m going to lie down and give up so you can feel special, but think again!” 

“Snowy,” came a frustrated voice from the background, clearly Snowstorm’s, but Snowy was deaf to it. They leered further into Red Eye’s space and the two locked eyes. Despite Snowy’s acidic words, Red Eye remained unperturbed as they pushed their drink to the side. Snowy kept one eye on it. 

Adjacent to the anonymous POV, a voice with a distinct Hunluese cadence muttered half-audible commands to the filmer: zoom in, don’t let them miss the reaction. 

A few moments of silent consideration followed, Snowy’s imposing posture maintained. “I don’t think this is an argument we need to have,” concluded Red Eye eventually, turning towards the silent bartender and away from Snowy’s heated gaze. 

That’s it? grumbled the filmer’s accomplice. And for a moment, it looked as if it might have been. But just as the tension dissipated, Snowy seized Red Eye’s drink from the counter and poured it over them, provoking an enraged hiss as they were left completely drenched.

The silenced room broke out into a furore of stunned chatter, but one voice was still heard over them all – “I told you you wouldn’t forget about the Snowballs in a hurry, huh?” 

Fantum (19/10/24)

“Hey, everything alright?” asked Razzy, after Billy had stopped following after them while they were departing the track. They were in the tunnel leading to the starting gate, where only racers and coaches were normally allowed post-race, late to leave after a post-race catch-up. 

“Hold on a second.” Someone had dropped a handkerchief on the floor. Billy gingerly picked it up. “Is this yours?” they asked. 

“A handkerchief? Nope,” answered Razzy. “Maybe ask the racer group chat.” 

“It’s been shut since the incident, remember?” replied Billy. 

“Oh yeah… Well, maybe it’s Snowstorm’s? They were in a real hurry to leave…” 

–

Snowstorm met Billy’s approach with a skeptical glare. “I’m not going to talk about last week, sorry.” 

“That’s understandable. Um, I was just wondering if this is yours…” Billy said, gingerly presenting the handkerchief for Snowstorm’s inspection. Snowstorm barely looked before shaking their head. 

“Sorry. Not mine.” They squinted. “Does anyone actually even use a handkerchief anymore?” 

Dejected, Billy returned it to their bag. 

“I guess maybe the Hazers do. I don’t think they have game consoles up there, so it’s probably the next most exciting thing.” 

Billy could certainly fault their logic, but they had no better lead. “Alright.” 

–

If Snowstorm had been in a mournful mood, Misty was almost frozen in grief. When Billy met them Cloudy was keeping a dutiful protective watch over their personal space, and as they received the nod of permission Billy felt as if they were being admitted to an exclusive club. 

“Yours?” Billy asked, producing the handkerchief for Misty to inspect. They inspected it with a glassy, distant expression, empty of any recognition. Billy wasn’t surprised to see them frown and sigh. 

“Sorry. I haven’t… It looks really nice, though. Maybe it’s Yellow Eye’s?” they suggested instead. 

“Thanks anyway, Misty,” Billy replied. 

–

Yellow Eye was much trickier to track down than Snowstorm and Misty. White Eye kept their racers on a short leash post-race, guarded from a press eager to trip them up, and never more so than when the day had not gone to plan. Billy also got the distinct sense that they in particular were a persona non-grata at the penthouse office. Fortunately, Yellow Eye’s silver-tongued hospitality seemed to override White Eye’s hostility. 

“Um, a handkerchief? Cute, but a little outdated,” they mused. Billy was about to make a hasty exit before Yellow Eye unexpectedly continued. “Try Stinger – see, I heard this rumor…” 

–

“Absolutely no way, not in a million years, not on your life, not on Bombay’s life, not on Bumble’s life -”

“Hey!” Bumble interjected. 

“- is that fancy little thing mine!” barked Stinger, scowling. Just the suggestion – which they seemed to take as an accusation – sent them blushing beet-red, an impressive feat for a black-and-yellow marble. 

“Okay, so it’s not yours -” Billy began, but they were quickly interrupted. 

“I mean, seriously, why would you even think that? That’s more… Lemonlime’s vibe, right? I’m super punk, right? Hey! Look me in the eyes!” 

“Uh… no.” 

Billy quickly left, but not without a lead. 

–

Billy found Lemonlime at a canal-side cafe, drinking tea. 

“This is what passes for a waterside view in Fantum,” they sighed. “Are you joining me?” 

Billy bowed apologetically. “Sorry, I can’t. Did you lose this?” they asked, displaying the handkerchief. 

Lemonlime inspected it so intensely and fondly that hope began to rise in Billy’s stomach. Then they sighed again. 

“It’s pure silk… I couldn’t afford having something like this around with me. I bet Starry would love it, though.” 

Billy was about to leave, until Lemonlime piped back up. 

“Uh… If you don’t find the owner, can I have it?” 

–

It was just Billy’s luck to interrupt their second coach-racer meeting of the day, this time between Starry and Black Hole. Though the mood was clearly tense, they were greeted with a smile. 

“A handkerchief? Let me have a closer look…” 

Even with dark circles and frustration lines carved into their face, Starry was perfectly intimidating, and Billy had to fight the urge to clam up with every ounce of confidence in their body. 

“S-sure…” 

Starry inspected it carefully for what felt like hours. Eventually, they came to their conclusion – “It says ‘made in Zuro’. Maybe try the Kobalts?”

“O-okay.” 

–

Billy found Royal alone in the hotel’s buffet, lost in thought and gnawing on a lamb chop. 

“Oh, hey Billy. Did you reconsider the club idea?” 

“Sorry… I get you want to raise awareness, but it’s too visible for me, and I don’t know who’d join aside from us.”

Royal leaned back and sighed. “That’s fair.”

“Anyway, I came to talk about something else. Is this yours?” they asked, and showed Royal the handkerchief. 

“Oh, that? It’s not mine. But they’re sold in Zuro gift shops,” Royal said. “I saw Anarchy buy one. See, they’re made like this, with a…” 

–

By the time Billy escaped Royal’s long-winded explanation of the production process the sun had set, and the blinking lights of the distant mining operations were joined by a chorus of warm city streetlights. Billy found Anarchy at a nearby, doing a Q&A for a hometown audience. 

“Now, a question from… Billy? Why are you-” 

This was their chance. They held the handkerchief up. “Did you lose this?” 

Anarchy checked their bag. “No, mine’s still here… Uh, I did buy one as a gift for… Someone.” 

“Who?” 

Anarchy’s expression turned icy. “Um… Well, I’m not telling you! So there!” 

–

Billy did not consider themself a great guesser, but the identity of Anarchy’s embarrassing mysterious giftee felt like a fairly sure bet. After no luck with Aryp and Rima, they moved on to the Pinkies, speaking to Pinky Toe while Pinky Panther was on a gaming call.

“You wouldn’t have found my-” 

“Handkerchief?” Billy replied. 

Pinky Toe’s face lit up. “Oh! Do you have it?” 

Oh, finally, Billy thought as they handed the handkerchief to a grateful Pinky Toe. 

“I can’t believe I lost it. Thank you so much!” they exclaimed, rewarding Billy with a warm hug. 

“Ah! …N-no problem.” 

Credits

• Writer: Millim
• Copyeditors/Editors: Evolution, Stynth
• Graphic Designer: Yume
• Photo Credits: Jelle’s Marble Runs
• References: Marbula One S5 GP7 Aquamaring Race | Jelle’s Marble Runs; Marbula One S5 GP8 P-Mine Tunnel Race | Jelle’s Marble Runs
• Release: 25/10/2024