Big Boy

In the local tavern, you could always find Iron. Raised by the elderly on the outskirts of the Hive, he dressed and cut his hair like an old man, with innocent, chubby, rosy cheeks—hence the nickname “Big Boy.” He was as big as a soldier, though he wasn’t assigned as one, and was gentle despite his imposing size. Proud and passionate about his people’s history and culture, he was often seen singing anthems or playing melodies on the war horn he always wore around his neck. His songs would echo through the tavern amid the noise of chatter, laughter, and clinking glasses: “Pon pon pon pon,” he’d cheerfully boom. When asked, he’d share his controversial views, which were regularly challenged. They all knew what he was, and so did he, but he treated everyone with kindness.

One day, using his horn as a drinking vessel, he told Fire how meeting a Flea People music teacher had softened his views: “I-I-I’d still r-r-respect him more if he were Hive People, though.” Despite their differences, they coexisted peacefully. Big Boy always struggled to find a girlfriend.