#wow last time this is gonna be a theoretical answer rather than 'yes okay well I wrote this so here's a solid canon answer' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

padfootagain · 4 years ago

Text

Girl Crush (XV)

Chapter 15 : A Time for Christmas Roses

Here we go with a new chapter!! Lots of cuteness!!! London in winter will settle for the next few chapters! Next update in 48 hours, as I've finished the next couple of chapters too!

I hope you like this new part, please, tell me what you think!

Word Count: 5326

Spending New Year's Eve in London ought to be a dream.

If you had imagined only a few months before that you would travel to Europe for the holidays, you would have shaken your head at yourself and your crazy imagination.

And yet there you were, incredibly jetlagged, pulling your suitcase behind you as you walked out of your terminal in Heathrow Airport, looking for your friend across the estranged faces that filled the cold halls.

The little crowd that had gathered in the centre of the building did give you a hint of where Harry was though. You had told him that it wasn't a good idea for him to come and pick you up. But as usual, he didn't listen. It was kind of him to come, of course. Still, it was pretty stupid considering how famous he was.

It seemed to be a rather calm crowd though, and when you spotted Harry in the middle of the group, he seemed relaxed enough, taking pictures with everyone who had gathered around him. You headed for the exit and sent him a text to tell him you were waiting for him outside.

It was terribly cold in London, and you missed the Californian sun already as you stepped outside of the airport and under a grey sky. People were hurrying to and fro in a busy waltz, dragging their luggage behind them, but you settled a few meters away from the door in a quieter corner, leaning against a wall. You watched the cars passing by and strangers rushing in and out, wondering where they were coming from and where they were going. What exotic destination would they go to? Where they coming to London to see a friend, family, a lover, or was London an exotic destination to them as well?

"Sorry about that."

Harry's deep voice tore you away from your thoughts, and you didn't miss a second to lean in his open arms to hug him close.

"Oh, I've missed you so much," he breathed into your hair.

He breathed in the smell of your shampoo, the fragrance making him feel light-headed. It was almost painful to have you back when he had missed you so much. A good kind of pain. The ache that made a heart beat a little faster as one's longing is over. The stinging sensation that settles in to replace what had been wanted.

"I've missed you too," you answered, burying your face a little deeper against his shoulder. "It's so good to see you."

He tightened his hold on you before letting go.

"I'm parked close, let's go."

He took your suitcase and guided you across the parking lot to his car, his warm breath creating strange shapes into the cold air.

"God, it's so cold," you squealed as you climbed on the passenger's seat.

"It's winter, what did you expect?" Harry laughed at you, turning on the engines.

"Thanks again for inviting me over, this is amazing! I couldn't stay long enough to really visit anything when I came for your first show, so I'm glad I have a second chance to discover London."

"I'm sure you have an entire list of places where you want to go…"

"Of course!"

You grinned, reaching in the pocket on the inside of your warm coat for a little piece of paper where you had written the name of all the places you wanted to visit during the week.

Harry couldn't help but laugh, but his eyes and smile were tender, filled with fondness. Because it was just so you… and you were too adorable for his heart to handle.

"I also count on your expertise, obviously," you went on, ignoring his laughter. "Maybe you can show me around a few places?"

He frowned.

"Well, we'll be together for two weeks, I don't think you've really got a choice in terms of who's going to be your guide around London…"

"I… I don't know… don't you have things to do while I'm here?"

"No, I've cleared my schedule because you were coming."

"Oh…"

"Are you… disappointed that I'll be around?"

You rolled your eyes.

"Don't be silly. I've just travelled across the globe just to see you, remember? I just thought that you would be busy. But I'm glad you aren't. I'm gonna drag you to all the tourists' favourite spots!"

"I didn't expect anything less coming from you."

You seemed to think for a moment, which was always a moment to be dreaded, for all your craziest and cutest ideas emerged from these reflective times.

"What's going in there? I can see the smoke coming out of your ears," Harry commented, stopping at a red light.

"Will it be okay for you to come with me to all these places? I mean… people recognized you at the airport."

His hold on the steering wheel tightened, but his voice was calm when he replied.

"It's winter: coats, hats, scarves… I should be alright. But if you're worried it'll be a problem, you can go on your own, it's okay."

But you shook your head.

"If you're okay with taking the risk, then so am I. And you're right, even I could barely recognize you with that gigantic scarf of yours," you added, pointing at Harry's brown knitted scarf.

He exploded with laughter, and relaxed.

"I'm more than ready to take the risk. I've missed spending time with you."

"I've missed you too."

"I'll come back to L.A. for a while after the holidays."

"Really?" you asked, excited.

"Yeah… I have some time off in the tour, much needed time off. So… would like to try to escape the cold of London in winter."

"I'm sure you would!" you playfully laughed at him. "Well, I won't complain. L.A isn't the same without my best friend."

If your words still made him smile, there was also a string being bitterly pulled at his heart.

Best friend… no need to remind him of that.

"How is work, by the way?"

"Everything's fine. I got a raise before Christmas!"

"Wow! Congrats! Mary really can't do anything without you anymore, huh?"

You became a little shy, but wore a proud smile on your lips still.

"Well, I'm good at my job, apparently."

"You are amazing at your job, Y/N."

You wanted to nudge him playfully and tell him to shut up, but his voice sounded too earnest for you to react this way. You lowered your gaze to your shoes instead and let out a shy thank you.

"What about Gareth?" Harry asked in a casual tone, resting his elbow at the base of the window to hold the wheel.

"He's fine. He's spending the holidays with his family, so he couldn't come, but thank you for inviting him too, it means a lot to me."

I know it does. I wouldn't have done so otherwise.

"You'll have him again soon."

You shrugged.

"It's okay. It's just for a couple of weeks. Oh, which reminds me, he asked me to text him after I landed.""

"Everything's fine between you two?" Harry wondered while you texted your boyfriend, letting him know that you were in safe hands and that all had gone well.

"Yeah… it's going fine. Nothing new. He gave me a nice book about plants for Christmas… that I had already, but it was kind," you laughed fondly.

"I'm glad you've found someone nice. Someone who treats you right," Harry earnestly said. "And for his defence… you have almost all possible books that one can find about plants so…"

"I know, it was cute. But what about you?"

"Me and Gareth? We're over the moon together."

"Not you and Gareth, you silly!" you joined his laughter. "I mean, do you have someone these days?"

But Harry shook his head.

"Nope. No one."

"No one serious or no one no one?"

"Uhm… no one… no one… What…?"

"I don't know, I mean… you never talk to me about this stuff."

"Because there is nothing to say?"

"I mean… Sandra tells me about her one-night stands all the time, Jasmine tells me everything about her and her boyfriend. So… I hope you don't avoid telling me things because you feel like you can't. Cause you can. I mean… you get it, right?"

He chuckled.

"I don't have any one-night stands to talk about either."

"No?"

He shook his head.

"Nothing since…"

He frowned hard, going through memories. But then, his expression changed from focused to surprised.

"Since… before my album came out. Wow… perhaps I should work on a one-night stand after all… that… that is a long time without sex…"

"Just a few months," you rolled your eyes.

"Almost a year."

"Almost a year?"

"Almost ten months," he nodded.

"Maybe you should try to find a one-night stand," you admitted with a teasing smile.

"Good resolutions for the new year: getting laid," he joked, making you laugh as well.

It wasn't that late in London, barely the beginning of the evening, and yet by the time you needed to drive from the airport to Harry's house the sun had set, turning the clouds from grey to a deep shade of brown, almost black. The yellowish light of the lampposts helped the moon to light the world. But London was a busy city, and even with the low light and the cold, the streets were filled with strangers walking around. Despite the early time in the evening, your journey had greatly tired you, and you asked Harry to stay in for the first night. He didn't protest, it meant getting some quality time with you after all.

You were surprised though when you entered Harry's home when you found no Christmas decorations whatsoever.

Yes, it was the 27th, and Christmas was theoretically over, but you reckoned that Christmas time ought to last at least until the second week of January, or else it wasn't worth it.

What about the aftermath? Eating all the chocolate you got for Christmas? All the extra cookies? Keeping the lights on for New Year's Eve?

The most surprising fact was that there was a tree in his living room, it was simply…bare.

"You've already put all your decorations away?" you asked, taking in your surroundings, not being surprised to find the place looking exactly like Harry's personality.

A little old and a little new. Soft and warm and full of chairs and couches to gather a lot of people at once. Tasteful and personal, the kind of home that made you feel like it could become yours if he agreed to let you stay for a little longer than a few hours. The plants you had helped him nurture were thriving.

You loved the place already…

"Huh… no, I didn't put them on actually," Harry answered, taking his warm coat off and pushing your suitcase down the hallway and towards the stairs. "I was at my mom's for Christmas, and didn't have time to decorate before leaving."

"But you have a tree!"

"I just had time to pick it up, and then something came up, and I didn't decorate it."

You pouted, seeming a little disappointed.

Harry heaved a sigh as he knew perfectly what that meant…

"Do you want us to decorate it tonight?"

You gave him a grin and nodded enthusiastically.

"Even if Christmas is over?" he asked, but you shrugged his remark away.

"I haven't given you your present, yet."

"You got me a present?"

"Of course!"

"Good, because I got you one too."

Your grin only widened, burning through the room.

"I can't wait to see what it is."

"Alright, what about I get your suitcase upstairs and get the decorations while you make us some hot cocoa, huh? Feel free to open all the drawers in the kitchen, my home is yours. I also bought the cookies you like, they're next to the sink."

You got to work, humming to the Christmas song stuck in your head while Harry fumbled through boxes he had put away upstairs and the warm scent of sugar and chocolate filled the entire house.

When he finally walked back downstairs with a box filled with decorations and he saw you standing there, humming in his kitchen in your warm woollen pullover, your pair of old jeans and your colourful socks, busy making the most comforting drink in the world, he couldn't help but feel like this was right. You, there, in his kitchen, relaxed and happy and making cocoa… that was how things were meant to be. It felt so right. It felt so real.

His throat tightened and jaw clenched, his hold tightening around the box.

He wished that it could be meant to be, at least. A shame you didn't seem to feel this way too.

He shook himself, pushing these thoughts away, because for now you weren't with Gareth, you were with him, in his kitchen and he intended to enjoy every moment he could spend with you.

"Found them!" he told you as he entered the kitchen, right when you were pouring the hot beverage into two large mugs.

"Great! Let's take a look! Here you go, be careful, it's very hot."

You handed him his cocoa and he put the box on the kitchen table so you could inspect what it contained.

And you were far from impressed.

A few lights, but there were barely any garlands and other goodies…

Now, that wouldn't do.

"Okay, no. No, we can't decorate this grandiose tree with only these!" you admonished, shaking your head. "Is there a supermarket close?"

"Huh… yeah, down the street. Why?"

"We're gonna make some decorations."

"Make?"

"If we find a few cute things we can buy them too, but I reckon that as Christmas is technically over we're gonna have to do the hard work ourselves. Come on! Get your coat and your keys, and there we go!"

"But… the cocoa…"

"I'll make more when we come back, come on!"

You did take the time though to grab one of the cookies Harry had bought for you - chocolate chips, your favourite, as usual – and then dragged him out again.

At the store down the street, you filled Harry's arms with glitter, and paint, and glue, and an awful lot of paper and pencils and even more glitter. Your friend didn't really dare to question your actions, he had seen you in this kind of creative mood before, and was well aware that you were an unstoppable force then. You were way too stubborn, all he could do was nod and accept that his evening would be spent creating adorable Christmas decorations with you. And as the thought crossed his mind while you were both waiting to pay for your items, he didn't really want to complain about it after all. There was a dreamy smile on his lips, tender and happy, because when given a little bit of thought, making Christmas decoration with you was a lovely way to spend an evening.

That's how you soon found yourself sitting on Harry's white carpet, before his tall Christmas tree, surrounded with scissors, paper and pencils, your fingers covered in glue and glitter all over your face, laughing with Harry while Ella Fitzgerald sang Christmas Carols in the background.

"I think you're missing some pink glitter on your left cheek," you stated, disregarding the little paper star you were folding in yellow paper, examining Harry.

He had some silver glitter on the bridge of his nose, and a little bit of gold on his forehead, some blue and green on his chin and his cheeks adorned each a line of a bright orange glitter.

"Okay, go ahead," he accepted his fate with an amused smile and leaned forward to allow you to apply some pink glitter over his cheeks.

"Better!"

"You need more red."

"Red?"

"Yes, on your cheeks."

It was your turn to lean forward, presenting your face to him and closing your eyes, waiting for him to paint glittery shapes all over your skin. And as he applied some glitter on his finger and then onto the soft skin of your cheek, Harry couldn't manage to prevent his heart from beating too fast.

God… how he wanted to run his fingers across your cheek for hours…

Instead, it lasted less than a minute, but that was more than enough for him to blush and feel like his heart was ready to explode, and how was that humanly possible to get so many butterflies in one's stomach?

You got back to your tiny star with a smile on your face, singing along to the Christmas songs Harry had put on. It was a mess, the whole room was messy by now, but the tree looked more and more psychedelic, which was all Harry's home deserved.

But you had made a mess of his house already, when you had landed only a few hours before in London. And a comment that Gareth once made about you echoed in your mind once again as your eyes roamed the space around you.

I love that you're passionate about things, but sometimes you get carried away and you don't even realize it, and you kinda make a mess of things. You're… you're a bit childish sometimes.

As you took a look around the room, at all the pieces of paper and the glue, and all the mess, and even Harry's face covered with glitter, and some shiny pieces stuck in his brown curls too… you had to admit that Gareth was right. You did make a mess of things sometimes, even if you had the best of intentions, the result was the same.

Harry was inviting you to his house for the holidays, and you had decided to decorate his home for Christmas, dragged him to a shop to buy some stuff he would never use again, and then moved on to make a mess of his living room to make some childish Christmas decorations.

Gareth was right. Maybe sometimes you forgot that you had to stop behaving like that… you were too old for these things, too old for making your own Christmas decorations, too old for spending your rainy afternoons in pyjamas…

"You're alright, Y/N?"

Harry's deep voice shook you out of your own head.

"Hmm… Yeah, yeah… all good."

"You don't look like you are. What's wrong? You don't like my decoration?"

"I love it, it's very cute."

"What's wrong then?"

You shrugged, but asked the question that tore your heart and burnt your tongue anyway.

"Harry… do you think that… I'm sorry for tonight."

"Sorry? For what?"

"You… Don't you think I'm a bit too much sometimes?"

"Too much? What do you mean?"

"I… I mean… Like right now? You've invited me to stay at your place and now look… it's all a mess."

Harry laughed.

"Yeah, it's kind of a mess. But… that's alright."

"I shouldn't have asked you to decorate the tree, it's not my house. I'm sorry."

You seemed sad now, and really, Harry couldn't have that. For the next two weeks, he would work at making you the happiest woman on Earth. He couldn't start failing in the first evening.

"Don't apologize, I love decorating the tree with you."

"Really?"

"I've been laughing almost non-stop ever since we've started, in case you hadn't noticed. Thought it would give me away…"

"I… I don't… it feels like intruding."

"Intruding? No, you're not. You're… you're just being you."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged.

"I don't know, you're just… always finding nice things to do. Things that we used to do as children and have kinda forgotten when we shouldn't have, cause they're fun to do. You're… you make simple things more valuable. You give value to simple moments, and I think it's important to do that, to know how to appreciate simple things that money can't buy. And I think that… in our society right now, it's easy to forget about those things, but you don't. And it's nice. But why are you thinking about things like that?"

"Gareth told me that sometimes… I get a bit carried away with things… like tonight, for example. And that I should tune that down."

Harry's jaw clenched, but he struggled to only reveal his emotions through a raise of his eyebrows.

"Well, I think he's wrong, don't listen to him."

"I mean… he is right."

"How did he tell you that? What were the circumstances?"

"I wanted to play to a boardgame with him. But it was more of a… like… long-line-of-similar-things kind of stuff, I guess."

"He… he isn't talking down on you, is he?"

You could see now, despite Harry's best efforts at hiding his emotions, that he was getting angry. You shook your head and gave him a reassuring smile.

"No, he's very nice. He didn't say that to be mean. It was just a remark. Nothing mean intended. Still, it made me think and… he is right… sometimes I get overexcited and have silly ideas."

"Well, I love your silly ideas."

"You do?"

"Yeah… Do you really think that I would be making all of these if I didn't like making them with you?"

"I… I don't know, you're very nice. You could have said yes just to make me happy."

"Well, I didn't. I love that about you. I love that you're earnest and silly in an adorable way. I love that you've made a mess of my living room tonight. It's fun, and sweet, and it's who you are. And I don't think you should change for anybody, especially not a boyfriend."

"I thought that the people we love were supposed to make us be better."

"I think that… we want to change to be better for the people we love. But I don't think that if you truly, unconditionally love someone you would ask them to change. I want to change to be worthy of the people who love me. But I don't want the people I love to change for me, nor for anyone else, for that matter. If you're to change something about yourself, it should be because you want to do it, not because someone else told you to. Besides, what you're talking about changing is you being absolutely adorable all the damn time, that's not the worst trait of character a human can have."

You gave him a warm smile, before he reached for your hand.

"Promise me you won't change that about you," Harry whispered, his thumb dancing over your knuckles, making your heart trip behind your ribcage. "It's a good thing. Don't change… don't change for him. He's not worth you changing for him. No one on this Earth is worth that much."

His hand left yours and despite his house being warm and comfortable, your fingers felt cold without his to cover them.

You gave him a small but earnest smile, the gesture reaching the corners of your eyes.

You had been right, Harry wouldn't want you to change that about yourself… he wouldn't want you to change at all…

"Alright, I won't."

You resumed your activity, but it wasn't long before Harry spoke again, his deep voice covering the tune of White Christmas.

"So… what do you want us to do while you're here?" your friend asked while drawing little flowers over a ball of paper.

"I guess… the usual tourists spots. Kensington Gardens, St James's Park, Buckingham Palace, the National Gallery, Big Ben, the Tower Bridge, St Paul's Cathedral…"

"The clichés then…"

"Yeah, the clichés! And for the cute little places that I don't know about, you're gonna help me!"

"Alright… But tomorrow, I have something planned for you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's Sunday and… I know about a place you'll like."

You grinned, making Harry's heart miss a beat or two.

You really were a ray of sunshine every time you smiled…

"What is it?"

"Nope! Not telling! It's a surprise!" he shook his head, and despite your pout, he would not waver. "I'm sure you're going to love it though."

"I trust you."

"It won't take the whole day though. I guess, we could go there in the morning, eat something there, and then move on to another part of town."

"Sure."

"It's about… I'd say it's about a thirty-minutes-walk from the Tower of London, we could spend the rest of the afternoon there."

"Perfect!" you frantically nodded, your grin never leaving your lips.

"Alright, let's do that then."

You got up to place your star on the tree, and Harry handed you his decoration so you could choose a spot for it too. And you reckoned that this tree looked absolutely fabulous.

"I think we're done," you announced proudly. "What do you think?"

"I think this is the weirdest Christmas tree I've ever seen, but I love it."

"It looks amazing."

"It looks unapologetically bizarre, it's great!"

"Should we clean up?" you asked, but Harry shook his head.

"Let's exchange gifts first, then we'll clean up. I can't wait to give you your present any longer."

A moment later, and you were eating a cookie, both of you sitting before the illuminated tree, with a little pile of gifts in front of each of you.

"Alright, you start," Harry nodded towards the two boxes in front of you, one rather large but thin, and the other a tiny squared one.

You didn't need any more encouragement to excitedly grab the little box and tear the paper apart. Your action revealed a dark velvety box, that you slowly opened as well, wondering what could be inside.

Your eyes opened wide at the sight of a beautiful pendant in the shape of a delicate peony, shades of silver and copper making the patterns of petals and leaves.

"Wow…" you let out in a breath.

You took the jewel out of its box and ran your fingers across the delicate shapes. You noticed that something was engraved under the two petals, and when you took a closer look, you realized that it was yours and Harry's initials.

"So… do you like it?" Harry asked anxiously, trying to read through your expression, but your silence confused him. You usually were overjoyed when you received a gift, but you were barely reacting now, only studying the piece of jewellery he had chosen for you. "I know you don't like… diamonds and stuff, so I thought that this was more discreet… do you like it?"

"It's… it's gorgeous, Harry," you whispered. "It's so beautiful."

You finally looked up at him again with withheld tears in your eyes.

"I… I don't think anyone's ever offered me something that looks this precious before," you admitted in a weak voice.

"Well, you only deserve precious things."

You stared at each other for a moment, none of you truly breathing, none of you able to look away, as if there was an invisible string connecting the two of you and pulling to make you lean closer to each other.

But you looked away first, finally able to draw a full breath of air for your shouting lungs, and Harry looked down at his laps, trying to hide how he was blushing.

"I love it, it's gorgeous," you reassured him. "Can you help me put it on?"

"Sure, come here."

You scooted closer to him, turning your back to him so he could close the silver chain around your neck. His fingers struggled a little, shaking because of the scent of your shampoo overloading his senses, and he was grateful for being seated on the floor, because he could feel his legs weakening against the floor. His eyes weren't focused on the chain at all, but instead on the back of your neck, and it took everything in him to not lean down and kiss the soft skin that was revealed to him. Instead, he closed the clasp and let go of the chain.

"Done," he whispered, his voice too out of breath, but there was nothing he could do to hide how shaky his tone had turned.

"Thank you!"

You sat back behind your second gift, running your fingers across the delicate flower falling perfectly around your neck, a smile glued to your lips.

"Okay, open the other one!" Harry urged you, and you happily complied.

Tearing the wrapping paper apart, you revealed a beautiful scarf, a purple velvet embroidered with golden threads.

Once again, you were left speechless. Instead, you traced your fingers across the soft fabric and the embroidered flowers that ran across it.

"Wow… that's beautiful, Harry. But you… you shouldn't have bought me all that…"

"Why not? You love scarves. You have too many of those already, I know, but I thought that this one would suit you. And you don't have so many purple ones, you keep on saying that you need to find new ones in that colour."

"I know but… it's… it's too nice."

"Too nice?"

But you shook your head. You were being silly. Harry really was the best… these gifts were so right for you.

"It's perfect, Harry," you grinned, wrapping the scarf around your neck. It was soft and warm.

Harry shot you a cheeky grin.

"Yeah, I know, I'm good at giving gifts."

You wanted to retaliate with a clever word to wipe that annoying expression off his face, but you reckoned that he deserved to wear it this time. So instead, you leaned forward to hug him and kiss his cheek, unaware of the butterflies that had invaded Harry's stomach at your gesture, or the shot of electricity that ran through his spine as your lips touched his skin.

He was excellent at hiding all his symptoms, indeed.

"Thank you, Harry."

"Merry Christmas, Y/N."

"Alright, your turn!"

"Hang on, hang on… I'm admiring how good my gifts look on you!" he replied, slowly taking the wrapped object you had placed in front of him

"Open it!"

Harry laughed at you, shaking his head at how excited you were, but he tore the paper of his gift anyway.

It was a notebook, bound together by a black leather cover, upon which were written in silver Future hits. Harry couldn't help but laugh at the message. He guessed that you had customized it for him, and he ran his thumb across the words in a tender stroke.

He opened it, and found that you had written a little note on the front page.

So you can keep on making everyone's life better thanks to your music.

With all the love,

Y/N

PS: don't forget to be careful on the road.

He remained silent for a moment, his throat too tight to speak, feeling tears threaten to escape from his eyes.

But when he looked up at you again, he was wearing a touched smile on his features.

"Thank you," he breathed in a voice deeper than his usual tone, and you could hear the emotion in the way he sounded as he wrapped an arm around you to pull you into a tight hug.

"Do you like it?" you shyly asked while you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"I love it. Thank you. Thank you for everything."

"Merry Christmas, Harry."

Harry's smile widened as he let his forehead fall to rest on your shoulder.

"Merry Christmas, Y/N."

There was a mess around you waiting to be cleaned. And you hadn't eaten dinner yet. And you were exhausted and dreamt of a comfortable bed.

Yet, none of you had any intention to move. In fact, you remained for a long time like this, holding on each other, enjoying being together, probably for too long for a mere hug between friends, but none of you were ready to admit that fact. It was so much easier to push the thought away for now and simply be together, even if for just a little while…

***********************************

Tag list : @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet@notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky@snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity@i-padfootblack-things @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy @addictedtofictionalcharacters @staringmoony@madamrogers @cronias13 @stylesfics-xx @mellamolayla

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles series #series #fanfiction #fanfic #imagine #writing

60 notes · View notes

space-blue · 4 years ago

Text

The Witch’s Son

I have complicated emotions regarding this one... I feel like it was a good idea, and short 1k word to truly make sense. And yet it co-won. Fifth competition win.

In the small but cosmopolitan city of Avon, there is an apartment building whose top floor flat is so filled with greenery, its balconies and roof so lush with plant-life, it would have made a Babylonian king feel at home. In the middle of this potted jungle stands a young man, broad of shoulders but with the slender build of a scholar. He leans on the railing, watching the sky bleed through the hues of evening. His dark hair catches in the breeze and dances with the ferns, making him quite the brooding picture.

His name is Lionel Delavine, the only son of the famous French witch Ayla Delavine, and in his hands rests a little corpse. To untrained eyes it would look like the nightmare child of a dragonfly and a praying mantis. To knowing ones, it is an ephemeral construct, created by an elemental or a witch. This one was made by Lionel's younger sister, when last she passed through Avon, but powered by his own magic. It has come home to die, and tell its maker tales of this day: heroics and close calls with death, and the more mundane minutes of travels on the winds and the sights of the city. It was its entire life story: born in the morning, it returned animated by the last bursts of its fugacious life.

Lionel puts the little creature down in its usual pot, and seals it for the night. His phone buzzes in his pocket, but he lets it go to voicemail, his thoughts too deeply entrenched in the maze of theoretical magic to escape quite yet. The ephemeral reported something unexpected this evening: it had expressed a sense of loneliness during some hours of its day, and a feeling of familiarity with that emotion, like it was nothing new. Of course it wasn't. Lionel's magic ensured the Ephemeral was reborn each morning at dawn, and it had gone about its business unknowing it had been doing so for the past fortnight. That vague awareness breaking the boundaries of its natural death is not completely unexpected. The whole thing is, after all, an experiment. It has simply gone somewhere Lionel could probably not puzzle out on his own.

He is but a witch's son, gifted at birth with a single Talent, and unable to learn and acquire more, unlike his sisters. Learning the theory behind a magic one cannot practice is a lot like learning mountaineering whilst living on an atoll. Not entirely impossible, but close. Lionel's pocket buzzes again, and he whips it out to find a missed call and a text, from Sandra, saying 'They're here, meet me at the Corner'.

He sighs, pleased at the prospect of a simple night's work.

----

The Corner is the supernatural community's watering hole in Avon, and inn for those passing through. It is also where the humans in the know come to rub elbows and search for deals and contracts. It is always a busy place and tonight is no exception. When Lionel pushes the door and people turn to take the newcomer in, the din of conversation dies, breath is held, heads nodded, and signs of respect waved. Some tense, others relax. The one thing humans of our age get wrong in their stories is that the apex predators are not the mythical vampires or werewolves, but witches. Lionel may only be a witch's son, but the second rung on the ladder of power isn't a meagre birthright.

He makes his way through the room, scanning for strangers through the crowd. There is a biker in rotting denims at the bar, a large finger buried so far up his nose there must be a gold nugget in there. Three men are huddled over their beers on a table by the jukebox. A red-haired woman is wolfing down a super-sized fish and chips in a booth.

"Here!" A woman with green hair waves from the adjoining booth.

"Evening, Sandra."

"Glad you could make it," she says, looking all business.

Sandra is an elemental, owner of a shop where she applies her single power–to make living things grow faster–to great commercial success. Most of Lionel's plants come from her nurseries. She also grows people's hair and nails, and employs two rather sanguine humans, Chen and Charlie, to work their art on those customers.

"I always have time for policing. So, where are they?"

Sandra tips her head, her full, richly coloured mane cascading over her shoulders, but her golden eyes never leave his.

"The blokes at that table."

"I guessed as much."

"They came back into the shop today," she murmurs, "gave Chen a scare. Ranted about taking over, me owing them protection now."

"Don't they always?" Lionel sighs, leaning over the table, reaching for his friend's shoulder. "Thanks. I'm sorry they targeted you first. I'll take care of it."

"Tonight? 'Cause now that they've seen us together..."

"Oh yes," he says, getting up, "I'll deal with them right now."

Sandra makes to speak, but Lionel has already turned away. For a moment he faces the men glowering at him over empty glasses, then he leaves. Outside the air is crisp now that the evening has succumbed to the night. The Corner is out of the way, close to the canal that winds its lazy way through the town towards the factories. Lionel picks up the pace. There is laughter behind him, shouts and heckles. They're following alright. He veers back into the town, through an empty business district, between large towers whose minimalist entrance halls are left lit and vacant, forlorn like some corporate purgatory.

"Hey, you in a hurry?"

"Yeah man, come over here!"

The men are all bluster now that they've caught up with Lionel in a deserted area. They fan out around him, and he takes a closer look at them.

"What can I do for you chaps?"

"For us?" the tallest asks, rolling his biceps under his shirt.

"You can leave the city without a fight," the calmest of them says.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible. Avon's my home and under my protection."

The last, a lanky blond youth, explodes in a hysterical laugher.

"Your protection mate?" he barks, "what's that worth? You're just a stupid magus. We're gonna eat ya up."

"Chill. We can probably talk this out," the calm one says.

The leader, then. Lionel watches them pace around him. There is an order, a harmony to their work of intimidation.

"What kind of shifters are you?" He asks.

Blondie flinches at his guess but the leader answers obligingly.

"Dingoes."

Lionel smiles in disbelief. Do they really think that three dingoes could face him and win?

"You know, you'd be more than welcome in the community. We don't have to do this."

"But we do!" The leader says. "Why shouldn't we, when this city is ripe for the taking? We couldn't believe that no one's tried, even though it's only got you for protection."

"Don't you think that's what deters wannabe overtakers?"

"What? You may be the son of that Ayla witch, but word is you're always locked up in that tower of your, trimming your bushes. I reckon we'll take a shot at it, ay?"

"After all we've got good arguments," the tall one adds, pulling out a gun. The others follow suit.

That, Lionel decides, explains their reckless optimism.

"Alright then," he says, "let's do this." And he steps towards the twitchy blond youth.

The shot makes a bright flash with a ridiculously tiny noise. Silencing seals? Expensive guns, Lionel thinks as his body crashes to the floor.

"Wow, that easy?" Tall one asks, surprised.

"Not really," Lionel answers, lifting his head.

The man yelps, startled, and shoots him twice more. Blood pools around him, but Lionel laughs. The men's panicked eyes roll, flashing white like the muzzles of their guns. Bullets rip through him and splash in the ever widening flow of his blood, a garish red under the electric lights.

When it has sipped far under their feet, Lionel dies, and takes them all with him.

----

"You okay mate?"

Lionel accepts the dingoes' leader's proffered hand.

"What a headache," blondie moans.

"Sure is."

"What the hell happened?"

Lionel looks at the bewildered men nursing throbbing temples.

"Don't you remember?" He asks them. "You came to me to ask me for straight work and protection in Avon. I'm taking you to Vendict's construction site. He'll have bed and board for you there too."

"Really?" Blondie beams. The tall man laughs.

"Well, you paid with those guns after all, it'll help settle you down. As I said, he's a fox shifter, you'll get right along."

The leader's feature soften, anxiety lifting its heavy grip.

"After so long on the road, and nowhere to call home... Thank you."

"It's alright," Lionel says, smiling back at them. "Welcome to Avon. Now let's hurry, I've got to get home before dawn breaks."

~~ January 2018 – Theme : Rebirth/Renewal

#original work #original story #competition #win #fantasy #magic

1 note · View note

dreamersscape · 6 years ago

Text

The Raven Cycle: A Liveblog (Part 4)

(Let’s just pretend the gap since my last installment was a much shorter and more reasonable period of time than it has actually been, shall we? I tried to make up for it with the length of this edition. Suuuuuper long post under the cut.)

Me, reading TDT’s opening quotations: Okay, yes, good. Taking things out of your dreams into the waking world. Got it.

Me, reading the last quote: ‘I loathe people who keep dogs. They are cowards who haven’t got the guts to bite people themselves.’?

YOU UNDERSTAND NOTHING OF MY PEOPLE, AUSTIN STRINDBERG. GET THEE HENCE.

‘He always returned with gifts, treasure, and unimaginable amounts of money, but to Ronan, the most wondrous thing was Niall himself. Every parting felt like it would be the last, and so every return was like a miracle.’ RONANNNNNNN. (Is it weird that it feels like Ronan is supposed to be my favorite bc he seems closest to my type and goodness knows I can relate to the grieving-a-father feels, but that’s not really the case so far? I love him dearly, but it feels like I should love him more. Weird? Not weird? I dunno.)

*carefully takes notes about the alleged details of Ronan’s birth because I know now every minor detail is actually Very Important*

‘Theoretically, Blue Sargent was probably going to kill one of these boys.’ Oh, good, it’s only a theoretical death. Glad we got that sorted out. Guess I can stop worrying about it now, right? :P

'Adam’s hand glided over her bare elbow. The touch was a whisper in a language she didn’t speak very well.’ I really like this line! Also, somewhat sadly, relateable.

'It had five tiny white buttons: four arranged in a cross shape, and one off by itself. To Blue, that fifth button was like Adam. Still working toward the same purpose as the other four. But no longer quite as close as the others.’ Oh, so we’re going to make my heart hurt over Adam Parrish in the first ten pages of the book. Fine.

'In that moment, Blue was a little in love with all of them. Their magic. Their quest. Their awfulness and strangeness. Her raven boys.’ Aw, those lines sound familiar. ;) And we’re all right there with ya, Blue.

'The dorms were emptier than they would’ve been during school term, but they were not empty.’ Whoops unrelated-to-TRC-but-nevertheless-on-brand feels ahoy.

So it’s been long enough since I read TRB that I can’t recall if I had any particular feelings about Declan then, but definitely feeling pretty sympathetic towards him now, what with his father’s seeming dismissive attitude toward him and the assault from this Gray Man. Also, have I read the word Greywaren before? Not sure.

Oh. So Ronan is the Greywaren, then. Guess that answers that.

’Mom is nothing without him’? Woooow, Declan. Wow. A bit less sympathy, now. (Maybe there’s something about their mother I don’t know yet, but still…)

’Creature was a good word for him, Ronan thought.’ Oof. He’s gonna make me eat my words, isn’t he? I already said I love you dearly, Ronan!

And now he’s gonna divert himself from his unpleasant thoughts with an external distraction. Oh good. That doesn’t mirror any of my other favorite characters at all.

'Back then, it had surprised Ronan; he hadn’t realized yet that Gansey could persuade even the sun to pause and give him the time.’ [drags a hand slowly down my face] Don’t do this to me, Maggie. Haven’t you already put me through enough with Adam and Gansey?

'His thoughtless expression was one of wonder or of pain; with Gansey they were so often the same thing.’ Well that–that’s a sentence.

’“Ronan, there’s no reason for that,” Gansey said sternly, as if Ronan had hurled a toy on the floor.’ Gonna start listing all the mom-friend!Gansey moments, 'cause I gotta.

'He laughed enough that Chainsaw abandoned her paper shredding to verify he wasn’t dying.’ This is cute, other than the implication that Ronan genuinely laughing is a all-too-rare occurrence.

’“So what you’re saying is you can’t explain it.” “I did explain it.” “No, you used nouns and verbs together in a pleasing but illogical format.”’ Hee!

I half expect tired-of-potential-and-only-being-useful-needing-something-more!Blue to break out singing ’I want much more than this provincial life/I want adventure in the great wide somewhere/I want it more than I can tell’ and I don’t say that at all in a disparaging way, that’s just what it made me think of. It’s a very understandable desire on Blue’s part.

’“Jane!” Gansey said joyfully.’ I will never tire of this. :)

'When she returned, she leaned on the table beside Adam, who touched her wrist. She didn’t know what to do in response. Touch it back? The moment had passed. She resented her body for not giving her the correct answer.’ So! Freaking! Relateable!

'Kavinsky headed directly to the large table in the back, and the postures of the other boys all changed drastically….Gansey stood, leaning against the table, and there was something threatening rather than respectful about it.’ I live a protective!Gansey appreciation life.

The Gray Man is quite a character.

Ummmm so chapter eight just hurt my soul a whole lot? Here’s a list of the culprits:

'He’d spent just two hours at the easiest of the jobs — Boyd’s Body & Paint, LLC, replacing brake pads and changing oil and finding what was making that squeaking noise there, no, there — and now, even though he was off, he was ruined for anything else. Sticky and sore and, above all else, tired, always tired.’

'The only rub was, Blue was another troubling thing. She was like Gansey in that she wanted him to explain himself. What do you want, Adam? What do you need, Adam? Want and need were words that got eaten smaller and smaller: freedom, autonomy, a perennial bank balance, a stainless-steel condo in a dustless city, a silky black car, to make out with Blue, eight hours of sleep, a cell phone, a bed, to kiss Blue just once, a blister-less heel, bacon for breakfast, to hold Blue’s hand, one hour of sleep, toilet paper, deodorant, a soda, a minute to close his eyes. What do you want, Adam? To feel awake when my eyes are open.’ (This hurt less than the 'to go home, to go home, to go home’ passage, but ONLY JUST.)

'He’d already seen the ignored, unopened envelope emblazoned with Aglionby Academy’s raven crest. For two days he’d been stepping over it, as if it might disappear if he failed to acknowledge it.’ (Ah, hello avoidant coping skills, my old friend.)

’[Adam] ached inside.’/'He still ached.’/'his spine aching, shoulders aching, soul aching’

'They stared at each other, both hurt.’/'He tried not to let it sound like he was still hurt, but he was, and it did.’/'She tried not to let it sound like she was hurt, but she was, and it did.’

’What do you want, Adam? He didn’t even know.’ (T.T)

'His wide eyes and gaunt face peered back at him, troubled but not unusual.’

I’m so done, he thought. No more. Please, I can’t take any more.’ (SAME.)

'The difference in tuition between this year’s and next was twenty-four hundred dollars. That number again. It couldn’t be a coincidence.’ (SERIOUSLY THOUGH, I CAN’T TAKE ANYMORE GANSEY/ADAM TENSION/CONFLICT/FIGHTING. WHEN DO WE GET TO THE GETTING BETTER PART?)

'They couldn’t hurt Gansey. Nothing could hurt him; people who said money couldn’t buy everything hadn’t seen anyone as rich as the Aglionby boys. They were untouchable, immune to life’s troubles. Only death couldn’t be swiped away by a credit card.’ (Oh Adam honey, you don’t even knooooow. :()

Adam! Some people show and feel love through acts of service! It’s not an inherently bad thing! Concern and the desire to help are not the same thing as pity!

Also, Blue’s “Then don’t be pitiful!” response was kinda strange, even for an impulsively perturbed remark? Just felt weird.

'She was looking at the box that served as his nightstand. Somehow it had moved several feet away from the bed. The side was badly dented, its former contents scattered violently across the floor. Only now did he remember the act of kicking the box, but not the decision to kick it.’ (Crap.)

'He calmed enough to remember that if he waited long enough, carefully analyzing how it felt, the emotion would lose its inertia. It was the same as physical pain. The more he tried to mentally decide what made pain hurt, the less his brain seemed able to remember the pain at all.’

'He’d never escape, not really. Too much monster blood in him. He’d left the den, but his breeding betrayed him. And he knew why he was pitiful. It wasn’t because he had to pay for his school or because he had to work for a living. It was because he was trying to be something he could never be. The sham was pitiful.’

'Some nights he lured himself to sleep by imagining how he would word the favor for Glendower. He needed to get the words exactly right. Now he rolled phrases around his mouth, desperately reaching for one that would comfort him. Ordinarily, words would tumble and lull through his mind, but this time, all he could think was Fix me.’ (On a related note, I’m dead.)

'He had a strange, disconcerting feeling that he couldn’t trust his senses. Like he was tasting an image or smelling a feeling or touching a sound. It was the same as just a few minutes before, the idea that he’d glimpsed a slightly wrong reflection of himself. Adam’s previous worries vanished, replaced with a more immediate concern for this ragged body he was carting around in. He’d been hit so many times. He’d already lost his hearing in his left ear. Maybe something else had been destroyed on one of those tense, wretched nights.’ (*Spontaneously revives to continue worrying myself to death over Adam Parrish* WHY CAN’T I TAKE CARE OF HIM?)

'Ronan, Noah, and Gansey were at the Dollar City in Henrietta, loitering. Theoretically, they were there for batteries. Practically, they were there because both Blue and Adam had work, Ronan’s shapeless anger always got worse at night, and Dollar City was one of the few stores in Henrietta that allowed pets.’ These stupid codependent teens.

“Hello? Oh, hey,” Gansey said to the phone, touching a notebook with a handgun printed on the cover. The oh, hey was accompanied by a definite change in the timbre of his voice. That meant it was Adam’ [tries to feel the joy I deserve at this past my intense anxiety about the probable clashing over the tuition thing]

'Ronan rested his forehead on the topmost shelf. The metal edge snarled against his skull, but he didn’t move. At night, the longing for home was ceaseless and omniscient, an airborne contaminant. He saw it in Dollar City’s cheap oven mitts — that was his mother at dinnertime. He heard it in the slam of the cash register drawer — that was his father coming home at midnight. He smelled it in the sudden whiff of air freshener — that was the family trips to New York. Home was so close at night. He could be there in twenty minutes. He wanted to smash everything off these shelves.’ He and Adam both want to go hoooome and I wish I could provide that for them and turns out I am actually Gansey.

'“Glitter,” whispered Noah reverentially, giving it a shake.’ Truly Noah is their light in the darkness. I LOVE HIM SO MUCHHHH.

'Farther down the aisle, Gansey suggested to the phone, “You could come stay at Monmouth. For the night.”’ Like I said. Also, I really, really wish I could hear both sides of this phone conversation.

'Sometimes Ronan thought Adam was so used to the right way being painful that he doubted any path that didn’t come with agony.’ I mean, fair. And heartbreaking.

'Gansey’s back was turned to them. “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Ramirez? I didn’t talk to anyone at the church. Yes, twenty-four hundred dollars. I know that part. I —”’ Oh no. It’s happening.

'But one of the marvelous things about being Ronan Lynch was that no one ever expected him to do anything nice for anyone.’ I would hug you Ronan, except there is now more Adam 'n’ Gansey friction and I’m really bad at handling it!

'Abruptly, Ronan’s entire body went cold. Not a little chilly, but utterly cold. The sort of cold that dries the mouth and slows the blood. His toes went numb, and then his fingers….Then Noah reappeared in a violent sputter, like the power crackling back on. His fingers clutched Ronan’s arm. Cold seeped from the point of contact as Noah dragged heat to become visible.’ Oh, so Noah can do that with Ronan too? Because of his greywaren-ness?

'“I lost …” Noah struggled for words. “There wasn’t air. It went away. The — the line!” “The ley line?” Gansey asked. Noah nodded once, a sloppy thing that was sort of a shrug at the same time. “There was nothing … left for me.”’ Not allowed. Just saying.

'He didn’t say, Or maybe something terrible happened to Adam that day he sacrificed himself in Cabeswater. Maybe he’s messed up all of Henrietta by waking up the ley line. Because they couldn’t talk about that. Just like they couldn’t talk about Adam stealing the Camaro that night. Or about him basically doing everything Gansey had asked him not to. If Adam was stupid about his pride, Gansey was stupid about Adam.’ Yes, we know. :)

'From Ronan’s room, he heard Noah’s laugh. He and Ronan were throwing various objects from the second-story window to the parking lot below. There was a terrific crash.’ Having witnessed my younger brother doing basically the same thing once, I can vouch for the authenticity of this teenage-boy activity.

'Once, he had dreamt that he found Glendower. It wasn’t the actual finding, but the day after. He wouldn’t forget the sensation of the dream. It hadn’t been joy, but instead, the absence of pain. He couldn’t forget that lightness. The freedom.’ Yeah, don’t we all dream about the absence of pain. *buries face in hands* OH GANSEY BOY.

’“Do you want me to talk to her?” This was something he definitely, 100 percent felt certain in his guts that he had no interest in doing. “I’m really bad at talking, Gansey,” Adam said earnestly. “And you’re really good at it. Maybe — maybe if it just comes up natural?” Gansey’s shoulders collapsed; his breath fogged the glass and vanished. “Of course.” “Thanks.” Adam paused. “I just want something to be simple.” So do I, Adam. So do I.’ This right here? This A Whoooole Lot. Is there anything you wouldn’t do for Adam if he asked, Gansey?

'Noah slouched in. In a wounded tone, he said, “He threw me out the window!” Ronan’s voice sang out from behind his closed door: “You’re already dead!”’ OH. MY. GOODNESS.

’"You should come over.” “Not tonight,” replied Adam. I’m losing him, Gansey thought. I’m losing him to Cabeswater. He had thought that by staying away from the forest, he’d keep the old Adam — put off the consequences of whatever had happened that night when everything started to go awry. But maybe it just didn’t matter. Cabeswater would take him regardless.’ I dream of the absence of pain!!!

'His skin shivered and crawled, and he realized it was crawling with hornets, the ones that had killed Gansey all those years ago. There weren’t many this time, only a few hundred. Sometimes he dreamt cars full of them, houses full of them, worlds full of them. Sometimes these hornets killed Ronan, too, in his dreams.’ Oh, Ronan.

’Arbores loqui latine. The trees speak Latin. “You’ve done this before,” she said. Time was a circle, a rut, a worn tape Ronan never tired of playing.’ Huh. Has Ronan been dreaming of Cabeswater for years and years?

'Curled on the mattress, [Adam] covered his face with his summer-hot arm. Sometimes, if he blocked his mouth and nose, just this side of suffocation, sleep would overthrow him.’ THAT DOESN’T SOUND HEALTHY, MY BOY. :(

'He was awake enough to think of the invitation from Gansey. There might be an internship in there. Adam knew it was a favor. Did that make it wrong? He’d said no for so long that he didn’t know when to say yes….He hated the careful way Gansey had asked him about it. Tiptoeing, just like Adam had learned to tiptoe around his father. He needed a reset button. Just push the reset button on Adam Parrish and start him again.’ I am sad. (But maaaaybe he’s starting to reconsider the idea that he can never accept hep of any kind?)

'After he had exhausted this line of thought, Ronan gave in to the brief privilege of hating himself, as he always did in church. There was something satisfying about acknowledging this hatred, something relieving about this little present he allowed himself each Sunday.’ Oh, Ronan.

'“Hey, pal,” Matthew whispered. He was the only person who could get away with calling Ronan pal.’ Awww. :)

'Matthew Lynch was a bear of a boy, square and solid and earnest. His head was covered with soft, golden curls completely unlike any of his other family members. And in his case, the perfect Lynch teeth were framed by an easy, dimpled smile. He had two brands of smile: the one that was preceded by a shy dip of his chin, a dimple, and then BAM, smile. And the one that teased for a moment before BAM, an infectious laugh. Females of all ages called him adorable. Males of all ages called him buddy. Matthew failed at many more things than either of his older brothers, but unlike Declan or Ronan, he always tried his hardest.’ Whoops, I’m attached.

'Ronan had dreamt one thousand nightmares about something happening to him.’ *rubs heart*

'A lady reached over the top of Noah to pat Matthew’s head fondly before continuing down the aisle. She didn’t seem to care that he was fifteen, which was all right, because he didn’t, either. Both Ronan and Declan observed this interaction with the pleased expressions of parents watching their prodigy at work.’ Once again: Awww. :)

'Blue very much liked having the boys over to her house. Their presence at the house was agreeable for several different reasons….And the third reason was that it suggested permanence. Blue had acquaintances at school, people she liked. But they weren’t forever. While she was friendly with a lot of them, there was no one that she wanted to commit to for a lifetime. And she knew this was her fault. She’d never been any good at having casual friends. For Blue, there was family — which had never been about blood relation at 300 Fox Way — and then there was everyone else. When the boys came to her house, they stopped being everyone else.’ THEY’RE FAMILY NOW. <3

'Crossly, Blue realized that Gansey had now called her Jane so often that it felt strange to hear him say her real name.’ Embrace it, Blue. Embraaace it. :D

'He hid the insatiable wanting well, but now that she’d seen it once, she couldn’t stop seeing it. But he wouldn’t be able to explain it to Maura. And he would never really have to explain it to Blue. It was his something more.’ Awww. :)

(Sorry this liveblog is devolving mostly into either EVERYTHING IS TERRIBLE or But this is cute! and if that is starting to become boring…)

’"What did they die of?” “Mom always said ‘meddling.’ Gansey completely forgot they were being secretive and let out a tremendous laugh. It was a powerful thing, that laugh. He only did it once, but his eyes remained shaped like it. Something inside her did a complicated tug. Oh no! she thought. But then she calmed herself. Richard C. Gansey III has a nice mouth. Now I know he has nice eyes when he laughs, too. This still isn’t love. She also thought: Adam. Remember Adam.’ 1.) I hope this line of rationalization works out for you, Blue. ;) 2.) I am still feeling torn, though. Blue and Adam are cute together. 3.) I’d be okay with a Blue-Gansey-Adam OT3 though.

'Maura frowned. In a low voice, she said, “I think I need to have a conversation with that boy.” “Someone does,” Calla replied, heading up the stairs. Each stair groaned a protest for which she punished the next with a stomp. “Not me. I’ve outgrown train wrecks.” Blue, alarmed, said, “Is he a train wreck?”| Her mother clucked her tongue. “Calla likes drama. Train wreck! When a train takes a long time to go off the tracks, I don’t like to call it a wreck. I like to call it a derailment.” From upstairs, Blue heard Calla’s delighted cackle. “I hate both of you,” Blue said as her mother laughed and galloped up the stairs to join Calla. “You’re supposed to use your powers for good, you know!” After a moment, Adam said to her, without lifting his eyes, “I could hear y’all, you know.” Blue hoped fervently that he was only talking about Maura and Calla and not about her kitchen conversation with Gansey. “Do you think you’re a train wreck?” “That would mean I was on the tracks to start with,” he replied.’ I would just like to say that I am miffed by this passage on Adam’s behalf. Thank you.

The chapter where Mr. Gray comes to 300 Fox Way was… interesting.

'Gansey, a furious sun, glowed from the other side of the universe, his gravitational pull too distant to affect Adam.’ WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME MAGGIE I CAN NEVER RECOVER.

So yeah, I just read the part where Adam is thinking back to how he and Gansey became friends and I think my heart just burst from emotional overload.

'Sometimes Adam wondered what would’ve happened if he hadn’t stopped that day. What would be happening to him right now?’ Sometimes, Allan wondered what would’ve happened if Robin hadn’t stepped out of the trees that day. What would be happening to him right now? SORRY, I HAVE A PROBLEM.

Also, it only just occurred to me that Allan and Adam are A-names and Robin and Richard (even if that’s not what Gansey goes by) are R-names. This makes me so unreasonably happy!

'Gansey was giddy now that they’d decided to go back to Cabeswater. He hated nothing more than standing still. He ordered Ronan to put on some terrible music — Ronan was always too happy to oblige in this department — and then he abused the Camaro at every stoplight on the way out of town. “Put your back into it!” Gansey shouted breathlessly. He was talking to himself, of course, or to the gearbox. “Don’t let it smell fear on you!” Blue wailed each time the engine revved up, but not unhappily. Noah played the drums on the back of Ronan’s headrest. Adam, for his part, was not wild, but he did his best not to appear unwild, so as not to ruin it for the others.’ REEELATABLLLLE!!!

'Adam felt like he was watching it all from outside. He felt like he was about to catch another image, like a flick of the tarot cards he’d looked at earlier. Was that someone standing by the side of the road? I can’t trust my eyes.’ Leave him aloooone. :(

'Gansey leaned back, head thrown to the side, drunken and silly with happiness. “I love this car,” he said, loud to be heard over the engine. “I should buy four more of them. I’ll just open the door of one to fall into the other. One can be a living room, one can be my kitchen, I’ll sleep in one …” “And the fourth? Butler’s pantry?” Blue shouted. “Don’t be so selfish. Guest room.”’ He’s adorable.

Huh. Cabeswater’s gone!

'Adam felt that the Pig’s status perfectly encapsulated how he felt. It was not really dead, just broken. He was held inside the question of what it meant for him if Cabeswater was gone. Why can’t things just be simple?’ While this is a legitimate concern, Adam, to be fair, just a few moments ago you were worrying about was going to happen when you returned to Cabeswater for the first time after your sacrifice. Poor guy’s anxious over everything. :/

'Ronan leapt out of the car and slammed the door. The thing about Ronan Lynch, Adam had discovered, was that he wouldn’t — or couldn’t — express himself with words. So every emotion had to be spelled out in some other way. A fist, a fire, a bottle. Now Cabeswater was missing and the Pig was hobbled, and he needed to go have a silent shouting fit with his body. In the back window, Adam saw Ronan pick up a rock from the side of the road and hurl it into the creeper. “Well, that’s helpful,” Blue said tersely.’ 1.) [Fond but exasperated] Oh Ronan. 2.) I appreciate your reaction, Blue. You’re not wrong.

'“I’m calling Declan,” Gansey said. “And telling him to bring a battery.” Ronan told Gansey what he thought of this plan, very precisely, with a lot of compound words that even Adam hadn’t heard before. Gansey nodded, but he also dialed Declan’s number. Afterward, he turned to Ronan, who leaned his cheek hard enough against the top of the window to make a dent in his skin.’ Please stop dealing with difficult emotions/situations by causing yourself pain, Ronan, honey.

'Gansey rounded on Adam, clutching his own headrest and looking behind him. “Why is it gone?”’ Why is my mental picture of this so endearing?

'Declan’s Volvo glided up, as quiet as the Pig was loud. Ronan said, “Move up, move up” to Blue until she scooted the passenger seat far enough for him to clamber behind it into the backseat. He hurriedly sprawled back in the seat, throwing one jean-covered leg over the top of Adam’s and laying his head in a posture of thoughtless abandon. By the time Declan arrived at the driver’s side window, Ronan looked as if he had been asleep for days.’ Oh, Ronan. What am I going to do with you?

'And as he sat there, observing the set of Declan’s shoulders and the way his eyes looked, he realized something startling. Declan was afraid. Probably it wasn’t apparent to Gansey, who was fairly oblivious, nor to Blue, who didn’t know what Declan looked like ordinarily. And Ronan’s feelings about his older brother were like blood in the water; he wouldn’t be able to see through the bilious clouds. But to Adam, who’d spent a fair amount of his life afraid — not only afraid, but trying to hide it — it was obvious.’ [Gansey voice] I am right to have Allan feels here and I will not be made to feel bad about it! (Also, in blast-from-the-past news, I’m really close to finally done with putting my anxiety-and-Allan thoughts into words and I’m excited for that.)

I love when Noah senses one of the other boys is in distress and goes to them and does his ghostly best to comfort or assist them. <3

'He thought about the day he’d been stung to death by hornets and lived anyway. Gansey ran over the memory until he no longer felt the thrill of hearing Glendower’s name whispered in his ear, and then instead gave himself over to feeling sorry for himself, that he should have so many friends and yet feel so very alone. He felt it fell to him to comfort them, but never the other way around. As it should be, he thought, abruptly angry with himself. You’ve had it the easiest. What good is all your privilege, you soft, spoiled thing, if you can’t stand on your own legs? ’ OH HONEY :( (But Noah does try!)

'“It’s not just the blood,” Ronan said. His chest moved up and down with his breath. “Something else got out, too.”’ Uh-oh.

Phew. They dispatched the nightmare creature while remaining mostly unscathed. Although they needn’t go around asking each other, "Are you murdered?” with the reply, “I think so.” anymore, please.

'“There was another one,” he said. “It got away.”’ Well, that’s not good!

'“It’s for the distasteful thing,” Gansey said. He plucked at the T-shirt with deprecating fingers. “I’m rather slovenly at the moment, I know.”’ [Fond, amused sputtering]

Oh, they’re going to the Barns!

'Gansey, a bit of the gallows in his voice, advised, “Poke its eye.”’ [Confused, taken-aback sputtering]

'“It feels the same as when you guys lived here,” Gansey said finally. “It seems like it should be different.” “Did you come here a lot?” Blue asked. He exchanged a glance with Ronan. “Often enough.” He didn’t say what Ronan was thinking, which was that Gansey was far more of a brother to Ronan than Declan had ever been.’ Brothers <3<3<3

'Ronan loved it so much. He nearly couldn’t bear it. He wanted to destroy something.’ That’s…one reaction to profound love. (Yes, I know. Profound love for something that’s been stripped away from you.)

'“Ronan Lynch,” he said. It was the voice Ronan couldn’t not listen to. It was sure in every way that Ronan was not. “Stop this right now. Go see your mother. And then we’re leaving.”’ More Mom-Friend!Gansey.

'Ronan walked directly up to her, close enough to see that she had not changed a bit since the last time he had seen her, months and months ago. Though his breath moved the fine hairs around her temples, she didn’t react to her son’s presence. Her chest rose and fell. Her eyes stayed closed. Non mortem, somni fratrem. Not death, but his brother, sleep. Blue whispered, “Just like the other animals.” The truth — he’d known it all along, really, if he thought about it — burrowed into him. Blue was right. His home was populated by things and creatures from Niall Lynch’s dreams, and his mother was just another one of them.’ Huh.

'My soul’s in enough peril as it is.” At this, Gansey’s face turned to a genuine frown and he looked as if he was about to say something. Then he just shook his head a little….“She didn’t try to see the future. It’s not something she became; it’s something she is. I could just as easily say that you’re evil because you can take things from your dreams!” Ronan said, “Yeah, you could.” Gansey’s frown deepened. Again he opened his mouth and closed it.’ Same, Gansey. Same.

'Ronan looked at him. That look, Blue thought. Ronan Lynch would do anything for Gansey. I probably would, too, she thought.’ If only he knew it. *rubs heart*

'Blue and Gansey exchanged a look. Blue’s look said, I’m so, so sorry. Gansey’s said, Am I the pretty one?’ Bless his cotton socks.

'Ronan thought of what Declan had said all those months before: Mom is nothing without Dad. He’d been right.’ Okay, but does Declan know about this stuff and how it works?

'Ronan interrupted the silence. “Cabeswater. Cabeswater is a dream.” Calla stopped rotating. “You don’t have to tell me I’m right,” Ronan said. He thought of all the times he had dreamt of Cabeswater’s old trees; how familiar it had felt to walk there; how the trees had known his name. He was tangled in their roots, somehow, and they, in his veins. “If Mom is in Cabeswater, she’ll wake up.” Calla stared at him. Silence was never a wrong answer.’ Okay then.

'But those words of Declan’s needled Ronan: She’s nothing without Dad. It was like he knew. Ronan wanted badly to know how much Declan knew, but it wasn’t like he could ask him.’ No, that would be too easy.

'“Says you and Dad were both dreamers,” Matthew said, “and you’re going to make us lose everything.” Ronan sat very still. He was so still so quickly that Chainsaw froze as well, her head tilted toward the youngest Lynch brother, purloined tuna sandwich forgotten. Declan knew about their father. Declan knew about their mother. Declan knew about him.’ Curious. Very curious.

The Gray Man is going to Monmouth Manufacturing!

'He had spent forty-eight hours more or less awake and restless and then, on the third day, he had bought a side-scan sonar device, two window airconditioners, a leather sofa, and a pool table. “Now do you feel better?” Adam had asked drily. Gansey had replied, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Hey, man,” Ronan said, “I like the pool table.” The entire situation made Blue apoplectic.’ Tag yourself; I’m Adam with a dash of Ronan. Pool tables are cool.

’"You are still wearing those incredibly stupid boat shoes, and of all the things that you have bought, you still haven’t replaced them!” Gansey, bewildered, observed his feet. The movement of his toes was barely visible through the tops of his Top-Siders. Really, in light of recent events, these shoes were the only things that were right in the world. “I like these shoes.”’ Update: he’s still adorable.

’[Gansey] exchanged a glance with Adam, because it had to be done’ 1) What does this mean? 2) I love them SO MUCH!

'In some parallel universe, there was a Gansey who could tell Blue that he found the ten inches of her bare calves far more tantalizing than the thirteen cubic feet of bare skin Orla sported. But in this universe, that was Adam’s job. } He was in a terrible mood.’ Oooooh. 👀

'So these were the people Greenmantle had warned him about. Fellow seekers of the Greywaren, whatever it might be.’ Curious and curiouser.

'Blue cheerfully spit a mouthful of brown water on his boat shoes. It pooled in the canvas over his toes. “Good God,” he said. “Now they’re really boat shoes,” she replied.’ Blue’s crusade continues.

'He knew what it was. He just didn’t know why it was. He said, “Well, that’s a wheel off the Camaro.” And it was. It looked identical to the wheels currently residing on the Pig — except this wheel was clearly several hundred years old. The discolored surface was pocked and lumpy. With all of the deterioration, the elegantly symmetrical wheel didn’t appear that out of place beside the shield boss. If you overlooked the tattered Chevrolet logo in the middle. “Do you remember losing one a little while ago?” Ronan asked. “Like, five hundred years or so?”’ Aggressively the Most Curious.

'Blue held his gaze, unflinching. Crisp, she replied, “None at all.” And it was a lie. It should not have been, but it was, and Gansey, who prized honesty above nearly every other thing, knew it when he heard it. Blue Sargent cared whether or not he was interested in Orla. She cared a lot. As she whirled toward the truck with a dismissive shake of her head, he felt a dirty sort of thrill.’ Oh, you kids.

'“Hey, Noah.” He was too busy being ghostly to attend to her, however. Currently, he was engaged in one of his creepiest activities: reenacting his own death. He glanced around the tiny yard as if appraising the forest glen containing only himself and his friend Barrington Whelk. Then he let out a terrible, mangled cry as he was struck from behind by an invisible skateboard. He made no sound when he was hit again, but his body jerked convincingly. Blue tried not to look as he bucked a few more times before falling to the ground. His head jerked; his legs bicycled. Blue took a deep, uneven breath. Though she had seen him do it four or five times now, it was always unsettling. Eleven minutes. That was how long the entire homicidal portrait lasted: one boy’s life destroyed in less time than it took to cook a hamburger. The last six minutes, the ones that took place after Noah had first fallen but before he actually died, were excruciating. Blue considered herself a fairly steadfast, sensible girl, but no matter how many times she heard his torn-up breath seizing in his throat, she felt a little teary. Between the twisted roots of the front yard, Noah’s body jerked and stilled, finally dead. Again.’ I feel w o u n d e d.

'They wandered to the door like that, a pretzel of dead boy and not-psychic girl.’ Don’t even look at me!

'Gleefully, Noah said, “There’s a pool table now! I’m the worst at pool ever! It’s wonderful.”’ THIS SWEET CHILD IS GIVING ME EMOTIONAL WHIPLASH.

'Gansey, pacing next to his ruined miniature Henrietta, set his eyes on Ronan. There was something intense and heedless in them. There were many versions of Gansey, but this one had been rare since the introduction of Adam’s taming presence. It was also Ronan’s favorite. It was the opposite of Gansey’s most public face, which was pure control enclosed in a paper-thin wrapper of academia. But this version of Gansey was Gansey the boy. This was the Gansey who bought the Camaro, the Gansey who asked Ronan to teach him to fight, the Gansey who contained every wild spark so that it wouldn’t show up in other versions. Was it the shield beneath the lake that had unleashed it? Orla’s orange bikini? The bashed-up remains of his rebuilt Henrietta and the fake IDs they’d returned to? Ronan didn’t really care. All that mattered was that something had struck the match, and Gansey was burning.’ #JusticeforMiniatureHenrietta

'“Don’t say anything stupid to him,” he told Gansey.’ Did I read that right? Did Ronan really just advise Gansey to be careful?

'The Gray Man recalled the buzz of his phone and patted his pockets. His phone was missing, however. Maura Sargent had stolen it while they were making out. In its place was the ten of swords: the Gray Man slain on the ground and Maura the sword driven through his heart.’ Interesting. Sorry that always seems to be my reaction to the Gray Man, but there it is.

#emily reads the raven cycle #status: tdt pg. 230 #jammeke #exlibrisfangirl

7 notes · View notes

pappydada · 6 years ago

Text

Whispers to Alice

Whispers to Alice (a work in progress) by Joshua Kaplan

Beginning

Keb's Journal, Sept 7, 2022 3:13AM

"It...(i say 'It' rather than 'they' because i don't have the knowledge of where One may end and the Next begin, if beginning and end are even applicable to It/Them)... so It, is like us in that It exists, and moves and reacts, irritable and motivated. At these very basic points, these requisites that we've assigned to Life, do the similarities between us and It become hazy. Does It reproduce? Does It feed and shed waste? and if not, how is it compelled to continue existing? We don't know, hence the confusion regarding beginning and end.

Beginning and ending are temporal concepts, and this entity's relationship with and to Time/Space is as yet undefined. Both reproduction and sustenance might well be unnecessary. Nature abhors a vacuum, and is also dutifully non-supportive of the unnecessary, so perhaps what constitutes beginning and ending to this/these Being(s) is as different as pudding is to electricity.

Piper suggested that It's beginnings might be traced to the heart of a super massive star, like Andromeda, whose pressure at it's core is so great that electrons become liquid and protons shed their charge, but..."

Research Operations Center, Hoboken New Jersey Sept 6, 2022 7:45AM

"...Who knows what other shit is going on inside one of those massive stellar kilns." Dr. Piper Souza, the team's Chemist said. "I'd look there for Its origin and for more of Them, if there are more."

"Maybe It exists independent of time, like Wheeler's theory that the universe consists of only a single electron that cycles forward and backward through time..." Dr. Henry Kenkeith, Applied Physics, offered, trying to wrap his mind around the concept of a non-material life form. "..Like weaving a blanket through the boson field."

"I thought that was Feynman's Positron work." quipped Dr. Olsana Marisen, Biologist and Director of Applied Sciences, who was listening intently, contrary to the apparent and compelling distraction of her favorite pseudo-scientific periodical, the Farmer's Almanac. "I read that paper when i was 17. I remember because it was right before i got my scholarship to Penn."

"A glorious day, that." Piper added wistfully, resting her chin on her cupped hands. "I remember mine like a lost young love, though not Penn, Columbia."

"You guys are gonna make me cry, gettin' all mushy and sentimental like this." Bond Timmick, Director of IT and team Engineer/Geek emoted greatly, wiping theatrical tears from his tragically masked face.

The room, once thick with the weight of conjecture, lightened with the music of laughter.

"John Wheeler presented the 'single electron' idea to Feynman in a phone call in 1940; or so the story goes." Keb Snydaar, team Mathematician and Theoretical Physicist said distractedly, staring at the torn and tormented collection of text, diagrams, and doodles in front of him.

Henry Kenkeith grinned widely at Olsana, who replied by promptly sticking out her tongue at him.

"Wheeler, Feynman, Hanna, Barbera...who gives a shit." Keb said impatiently. He was working on three hours of sleep and the amphetamines certainly didn't help his mood. "What we need to know is the 'How?'. How does this...entity...exist at all? Is it really intelligent or does it become sentient using it's host's intelligence? Is it one entity or a collection of individual beings joined by a community mind? Or maybe how we measure intelligence and sentience is inapplicable with It. How does it move where it wants to go? Does it even know where it wants to go?..."

"Easy there Man o'War. Better take a breath now and again or you might pass out." Bond wisecracked, creating more laughter. "What I want to know is how did we get involved with this craziness to begin with?"

"It all started with a woman named Alice."

Keb's apartment, Hillside New Jersey Aug 24, 2022 9:42PM

"I met a girl." Keb said to the man seated opposite him at the breakfast table, staring absently at the illustration on his half empty coffee cup.

"That's great, Keb! Coincidentally, my ass cheeks just grew wings. Now I can fly around and dispense skittles to the world...HAHA!"

Silence.

"Wait...Really?" Umber M. James was startled but continued chuckling. "I thought you were joking."

"Am I really that backward?" Keb said sullenly back, not knowing how to explain what was troubling him without bearing the full brunt of Umber's ruthless and predatory ribbing.

"Nah, I'm just busting your balls. She cute?"

"She's...beautiful." He replied, hesitating momentarily from the involuntary clamping of his abdomen as he pictured her.

"Wow." Umber sensed in his old friend a tension that seemed out of place, even for Keb, who was one of the most internally tightly wrapped people he had ever known. "You're not telling me something, Keb."

"She talks to trees, among other things." Keb said with resignation, still looking at the picture on his mug of the grizzled cowboy lamenting the waste of his money on everything except women and beer.

He didn't drink alcohol, and hadn't so much as held a woman's hand in the 5 years since he learned of his ex-lover's need for romantic diversification. It was his father's mug.

Umber stared vacantly back, as much from surprise as for comedic affect.

"Okay, so she's a bit off." Umber said after a moment. "...As long as the trees don't talk back, I guess."

Keb stared at his friend expectantly.

"Wait...They don't talk back, do they?" Umber's eye's widened in surprise.

"Yes, actually they do."

"Seriously? Is she mentally ill you think?" Umber asked with sincere concern. "'Cause that's a rough ride. Be advised; If you're considering some kind of emotional investment you should take a little time and see how deep that rabbit hole goes."

"First of all, i didn't say a thing about any relationship, or emotional investment, and I'm not saying that she talks to trees and they talk back in her head." Keb said sharply. "I'm saying she talks to trees...and they talk back. I've witnessed it myself."

Silence.

"When was the last time you got more than 2 hours of uninterrupted sleep?" Umber said, finally, only half joking. "Seriously Keb, how many days? Two? Three?"

"I'm not psychotic, 'Berz, nor is she." Keb said flatly, using the nickname he had given his old chum long ago. "Though I may be a bit addled at all the implications of what she showed me."

"Answer the question then." Umber prodded. "How long since you've slept? at all, even."

"Been about 40 hours i guess. plus minus." Keb relented, becoming irritated at the innuendo that his claims were due to insomnia induced hallucination. Keb was no stranger to hallucination, through chemistry and deprivation both, and this was no such thing.

"See?" Umber said, smugly satisfied at his impromptu diagnosis. "Go smoke a bone, get some shut-eye, and look at the whole thing tomorrow with a fresh set of brain cells."

"You've reached a conclusion with no data," Keb pointed out, then added unnecessarily, "Spoken like a true student of politics."

Umber James was by far the staunchest and most thoroughly immersed pundits of government and political chaos that Keb knew, or had ever known. He was Editor-in-chief of a semi-respected liberal periodical called, "The Drop" and ceremoniously attended every meeting that required minutes to be taken and an American flag to be present; at every level of City, State and Federal Government that he could logistically justify. Keb had for years urged him to "put his ass in a seat that mattered, rather than just pushing moist air with forceful rhetoric," but Umber always laughed it off, stating proudly that, "Not only DID I inhale, but will continue to do so for as long as I see fit, so fuck you and your vote if you don't like it." They discussed the consideration of having t-shirts made.

"Okay, Keb. I'll play devil's advocate." Umber relented. "I can understand the whole 'talkin to trees' thing. Lots of hippy, barefoot, patchouli oil people talk to things; trees, crystals, stale popcorn...but rarely do you meet someone that hears them talk back. What makes you think that this girl is really hearing anything?"

Keb stared Umber in the eye and stifled an impulse to berate his friend of many years for dismissing Alice so easily. Turning his attention back to his coffee mug, Keb then began his internally prepared monologue on what he mentally referenced as 'the walk in the woods.' Contrary to normal routine, Keb had not yet documented this interaction with Alice. Each time he began, something in his mind 'switched on.' What he attempted to review as a slide show of memory became a cascade of living moments; Alice's eyes flashing brilliance and insight, the way she flowed through the green, as if the flora knew she was there and moved to touch her and allow her passage, both. It was as if Keb was an alien entity in the woods, and Alice was the wood herself.

Keb knew with complete certainty that what he had experienced was devoid of trickery or manipulation, and was compelled by the thought that Einstein, Faraday, Maxwell, and Newton must never themselves have been witness to such sorcery, else our collective understanding of the mechanics of the physical world might be far different than what we have come to accept today.

"We were walking in the woods..." Keb began, seeing the images in his mind as he was related them, again seeing the sunlight beam through the natural canopy of oak onto her golden hair, tied back in a wide braid, and capturing her profile in the stark contrasts of sun and shadow, and for a moment he was again in those woods, and again held breathless by her shy radiance.

"Yeah?...And?... You still with me there stud?" Umber said, noticing his friend drift momentarily.

"...Hmm? Oh, sorry..." Keb said, and continued. "Alice had been explaining how she was able to communicate with the Earth, that she could hear voices in the breeze as it touches the leaves..."

"Okay, wait," Umber interrupted. "start from the beginning. i want to hear the whole thing. Were you holding hands? Did you guys just have sex in the bushes?"

Umber was fond of stories, and fancied himself a potent weaver of lore, so it was no surprise to Keb that he wanted the whole story, nor was he taken aback at the provocative embellishment.

"We weren't on a date, so no, we weren't holding hands nor had we been physically intimate in any fashion." Keb said, fully aware that Umber was lightly prodding him just for fun, but wanted to respond anyway. "We were on our way to perform a simple experiment, or i should say, i was. she didn't require any evidence to satisfy what she already knew."

"But she played along?" Umber lilted. "she's a sport. probably great in the...tree house? HAHA! sorry. go on."

"She had her own reasons for accompanying me and submitting herself to the study."

"...And they were?"

"She said she wasn't ready to tell me yet." Keb said, deflated at the recollection, feeling some level of failure at not having a simple answer to an important question. "but she said she would later."

"Oh yeah!" Umber shouted. "If that's not a troll for a second date i don't know what is!"

***

Alice; The Dream

She loved the dream.

It wasn't the same each time, but everything about it was in almost every way.

In the beginning of the dream, she is always in a meadow, kneeling. sometimes over a dandelion, usually; sometimes a cluster of clover, and sometimes even, a little frog that looked like it was made of water.

The first of the dreams was the best, when she met her Aua, Ga. She was 4 years old, and remembers it as if happened yesterday.

she hears a giggle, far away...too far really to be heard, a detail she'll remember when she gets older, but now, it is just different.

She looks up, toward the laughter, and it is so bright that she has to shield her eyes with her flattened hand. In the distance, over a rolling hill of a thousand different shades of green and brown she thinks she sees another child in motion. It looks like it's running in circles around a tree, but the figure is blurry, though the tree is clear. As her eyes begin to adjust to the brilliant sunlight, the image becomes clearer. It IS a child, naked, with long orange hair past it's buttocks, and it is dancing and skipping, spinning and laughing, so happy and free.

for a moment she is envious of the dancing child, then realizes that she can run and dance too...so she does. she runs and runs, feeling the wind and her own motion toss her hair and it makes her neck tingle. she watches her bare feet grasp the moist green with each stride, and she tries to quicken her pace...faster, she has to go even faster...like a bird flying, skimming over the ocean, over the trees.

then, suddenly she is airborne, her legs lifting beneath her as her body slowly arches forward in a graceful dive...she sees bright blue flashing past her, and green and billowing sunlight...and then the flash of white as her face impacts the ground, churning up bits of dirt and wet grass with her chin.

"Ohhhh...."

Alice isn't sure what happened. she was running so fast that she started to fly, like a bird, then fell, but she isn't sure if it hurt. It should hurt. "...And what was that sound?" she thinks. "Did i make that sound?"

"Ohhhhaaaahhhh...."

She hears it again. this time she's pretty sure that it didn't come out of her.

she blinks once into the sweet smelling grass and dirt, and turns over.

"Owwww...?"

Kneeling over her, looking down into her face is another little girl, maybe even the same age as Alice, with blazing red hair so long that it was draping across Alice's face, neck and shoulders, and she looked like she was about to cry.

"No ow." Alice said to her, momentarily distracted by this little girl's own distress and immediately understanding her question. Had the little girl even moved her mouth, though? Alice was confused.

The little girl with the long hair brushed her mantle of rust and pumpkin out of Alice's face and abruptly thrust her own face to where their noses were almost touching, and gazed deeply into Alice's gray-green eyes with eye's like a sea of molten gold, her brow furrowed.

In those eyes Alice saw...everything.

The little girl's frown suddenly became a beaming smile. Alice couldn't even see her mouth since she was so close, but her eyes told the whole story. This was her sister, Alice knew now. Her very own best friend to play with and run and dance and giggle and be free. and all she had to do was dream.

Alice wants to be that happy in real life, and to dance and skip and laugh, but it is hard to be happy. That's why the dream is so good, because Alice is really happy there, always. She is never hungry, and her beautiful friend is always there to hug her and put flowers in her hair and show her new things in the meadow. She is never alone there, and she never wants to be. She always wants to be alone in real life, because people hurt her. They don't always mean to, but it is the same hurt either way. In the meadow of her dream, Alice is safe.

Alice stares at her sister, not really thinking anything but taking all of her in; Her bright red hair and milk pale skin, her golden eyes that swirled and glowed and reflected everything good and nice in the world, her joyous smile and the way she folded her feet under her as she kneeled. Alice hadn't noticed it before, but she thought she could see tiny little sparkles of silver flashing all around the little girl's body, and when she smiled there were lots more sparkles.

Alice knew this little girl was special, and more, that she loved Alice. she knew this just from looking into those glorious, gleaming eyes. There were no words to convey this, nor were any necessary. it was communicated like a song of emotion playing through her soul in waves. and Alice knew that she loved her back, just as much.

The two girls sat looking at each other for only a moment, until Alice was swept up by a gust of wind with flaming red hair, both of her hands held in the other's, and together ran just as fast as they could. past the mighty and potent tree that the pale, golden girl had been in orbit around, and over the little swaying hill through a patch of purple and blue flowers, and to a little brook, where they both squatted side by side and watched tadpoles skitter to and fro just beneath the surface.

"What's your name?" Alice asked, as she turned her attention from the play of life in the creek to the golden eyed girl.

The other turned to Alice and looked confused.

"My name's Alice, after my grammy. She makes really good toast."

The little girl tilted her head to the side, and slowly seemed to realize what Alice wanted to know.

"Aaaaoooowwwwaaaaaa..." She said, and gestured with her arms, sweeping outward and looking from side to side.

Alice heard her clearly, and even though the little girl was only inches from her, her voice sounded distant...funny...and Alice was, for the second time, unsure if she saw her mouth move when she spoke.

"Your name is Awwa? That's a pretty name."

The little girl frowned slightly and shook her head from side to side, and said again, with the same sweeping arm movement, "Aaaaooowwwaaaaa..."

Then she put her hands to her chest and said, "Ga." and she beamed at Alice and grabbed a handful of water and splashed it on Alice's hands, then stood up and ran back toward the big tree, giggling and looking playfully over her shoulder at Alice as she ran. Alice immediately stood up and ran to catch her mischievous friend.

With each subsequent dream Alice had of the little girl in the meadow, her friend and sister changed slightly. her voice became less drawn out, clearer and easier to understand, and her mouth slowly began to sync with her speech. Alice had been correct to note that the little girl's mouth did not move as she spoke in the beginning; she would open it as if attempting to emulate how Alice looked when she talked, but it was easy to see that the sounds Alice was hearing were not being created by the little girl's mouth.

Alice came to realize that the little girl spoke with her heart, not her mouth, if such a thing were possible. She also now knew that the little girl's name was Ga, and that Aua was whatever Ga was, but in everything in the meadow, even the light.

As Alice grew older, so too did her dream friend, and the dreams became less and less frequent. This troubled Alice greatly at first, but it quickly became apparent that Ga was with her even when she was awake, and the older they both got, the better the communication between them became when Alice wasn't asleep and dreaming.

Ga had told her once to never tell anyone about them, about their friendship and sisterhood. She said people wouldn't understand, but that someday Alice would meet people that would make everyone understand.

"How will i know, Ga?" She asked as they both lay together in the meadow and together manipulated low flying cumulous clouds.

"The little frog will lead you, my love." Ga said. "Together we'll be, so no worries. i like your horse cloud..."

***

Keb's Journal Aug 21, 2022 12:02AM

I am a scientist. a professional nerd. this is part of my problem, this conundrum. What i witnessed today was nothing short of fantastic and i have no basis to substantiate or explain it. Add to that this absurd, internal sounding of my emotions...It is among the most substantial impulses i have ever felt, this motivation to help Alice. I have tried to convince myself that my passion and interest is founded only in professional purpose and a need to know, but I'd be a fool or a liar to deny that it is on a far more personal level than what any psychological profile or equation can rationalize.

This amazing woman, so unique and sensitive to the world around her, has perhaps opened a door between accepted universal mechanics and something else...I don't know what to call it...Psychic phenomena? Magic? How else should i reference it? Without a grounded theory and some semblance of a mathematical argument it certainly looks like sorcery, but then again, so would an internal combustion engine look to a primitive. Really, i think a coffee maker, or even a glow stick would accomplish same, probably, though with far less noise.

---

Keb's apartment, Hillside New Jersey Aug 24, 2022 9:57PM

Keb had great admiration and respect for his old friend Umber, who everyone close called 'Berz. He was smart, funny and could be trusted with most anything, with the simple exception of your girlfriend. Berz was among the most proficient practitioners in the art of wooing that Keb knew, and had always attributed his success with the women folk to confidence. "it's all in the self-image, my friend." he'd say. "if you like you, they'll like you, too."

Keb argued that it was easy for his friend to be confident when local legend spoke in hushed tones of the storied endowment of one Umber M. James, nicknamed by his many followers; The Gourd. Keb had no such farmer's market appeal, and other than some level of envy, and minor annoyance at his flirting with his dates when they were younger, he had never been bothered by Umber's predilection toward carnal behavior or his conquests. however, Keb maintained that it was difficult to nurture a serious conversation when every utterance was fodder for his factory of innuendo and blue commentary.

"There was never a first date, so i doubt in totality that she was leading me with her conversation." Keb explained unnecessarily. "Can i just tell this story without your input?"

"HAHA!" Umber laughed. "Sure. still, i can hear it in your voice. You like her. What's her name, by the way?"

"Alice. her name's Alice." Keb said hesitantly, his mind filling with imminent Lewis Carroll parallels.

"That's kind of a coincidence. i just mentioned the rabbit hole thing." Umber said, as expected, but he wasn't laughing.

"True enough."

"Is she blond? Blue dress? and how old is she? if you tell me she's 15 I'm gonna have to kick your ass."

"she is. Blond, i mean...Unless you're crudely referring to her intellectual capacity, in which case, no, she is decidedly un-blond. Ah, i get it. Another 'Through the Looking Glass' comment. " Keb continued. "and no, she's not 15. she's in her mid 20s, i believe."

"Okay, so here's Alice, all beautiful and smart and blond and crazy, spending her time talking fragrant oils and decorating to the local flora and fauna," Umber quipped. "...and here's you, lab rat and scribbler of Newtonian hieroglyphics who never leaves his house except to go to the lab. How did you two hook up? First guess is it's lab related."

So Keb told his story of meeting Alice, from the beginning. He remembered it so vividly, it seems like it must have happened a thousand times.

"I was at the lab eating my lunch and reading an old copy of Analog that Kenkeith gave me, a reprinted Simak story," Keb orated, as if reading a script. '...and i remember being excited about it. Simak wove tales of future intrigue before quantum theory and atomic application, and he influenced some of the greatest science fiction contributors in the world; Asimov, Heinlein, Campbell, really everybody. i love the old pulp writers and their stories..."

"Keb, is that actually pertinent?" Umber interrupted. "I don't really care about your comic collection. I wanna hear about the girl."

"Not comic, pulp." Keb corrected, and continued. "I was actually somewhat annoyed when i heard the knock on the lunchroom door. no one else was there so i would have to either stop reading, get up, answer the door, and politely tell this intruder that the person or persons they hoped to locate were nowhere on these premises; or be a prick and ignore them. i opted to be less prick and more annoyed, so I got up and answered the door.

"when i opened the door, i saw this young woman, dressed all in black, with her hand thrust out, and I just stared at her. i felt like i was in stasis."

"In stasis? Why?" Umber asked, incredulous. "Holy crap, she's a woman, not a werewolf. I will never understand your fear of women."

"Why? I don't really know." Keb lied. "She just said 'hi' and i froze."

Keb continued with his story, careful not to give away too much in the telling. He indicated that Alice was clearly anxious, and even so kept smiling and never once betrayed her desire to flee.

Research Operations Center Hoboken New Jersey Aug 12, 2022 11:23AM

"I'm Alice. Alice Leganno. I have an interview here at 11:30 with Dr. Marisen?"

Keb had stared at her standard offering of formal greeting, and in the distant fog of his awareness heard an echo of reality which told him to shake her hand, and as he slowly did, careful not to squeeze too hard, he heard it.

the voice. an auditory hallucination. a symptom of schizophrenia.

it wasn't so much a sound as it was an awareness, Keb told himself, not wanting to accept the possibility of mental illness. He compared it to knowing from the breeze and smell of the air that it's going to rain.

"Dr...Mari..." Keb fumbled, the message in his mind ringing, and tried to get a grip on the here and now. "Okay, you're here to see Olsa. I'll show you to her office."

Keb guided Alice with whatever level of faux detachment he could muster, including a smile to replace what she must have compared with Novocain mouth, and arrived at Dr. Marisen's office, tapping lightly before cracking the door and peeking in.

"Your 11:30 is here, Olsa." He said, mind whirling.

"Perfect!" Olsana shouted enthusiastically, her arms in the air. "Don't just stand there gawking, show her in, goofy!"

Dr. Olsana Marisen was nothing if not passionate. Everything she did she did with flair and high energy. She laughed loud, loved hard, and lived life thoroughly. she was one of Keb's favorite people and he considered himself lucky to be able to work with her. But even her volume and force could not push from his mind what he had heard and felt just moments before, though it felt like he had been feeling it forever.

"you can go in, Alice." Keb said, looking into her gray, green, and golden eyes that moved like wood smoke. "don't let her knock you over with her bluster."

"Thank you, Keb." She smiled and made her way into Marisen's office, and closed the door behind her.

As he walked back to the lunchroom, Keb had completely forgotten about the fantasy pulp, the brine and soy lunch, and pretty much everything else. all he could wrap his mind around were those words that he had heard, or felt, or hallucinated so strongly as he had taken Alice's hand in greeting...

"She is here for me."

It was only after he sat down at his desk and leafed through several pages of his journal did he realize that he had never told her his name.

Keb's Apartment Hillside New Jersey Aug 24, 2022 10:23PM

"Okay, so you hear this voice say 'she is here for me'..." Umber said, wide eyed. "And you think... what? that she's your soul mate or some such? Dude, that is some corny shit."

"I don't know what to think, frankly." Keb said sullenly. "Hearing voices is a symptom of schizophrenia. That seems more likely, maybe from sleep deprivation."

"Or maybe you're just fucking nuts." Umber stated flatly. "Doesn't make you a bad person."

"Well, we've both known for a long time that I'm nuts, but that's REALLY nuts." Keb said. "There is the unrelated detail of her knowing my name. That's been puzzling me."

"Fact that this Alice chick knew your name can be explained any of a dozen ways; name tag, placard on desk, simple previous inquiry..."

"I figured as much, " Keb interrupted. "So i asked her about it later, after Olsa introduced us formally."

"What'd she say? That she's been stalking you for your man parts?"

"Yup. And that i should poison your next meal with a live culture of dysentery."

Umber laughed, though Keb was only half joking.

"So what happens next? Olsa invites you in for a quick menage and friendly hand of canasta or what?" Umber joked.

"I just went back to the lab and sat there with my head in my hands." Keb said, not remembering those next moments or days very clearly. "minutes, hours, days later...I don't know, I wasn't thinking clearly, I heard Olsa's door open and them exchange niceties as Alice left, but I didn't see her again for several days. I went in to talk to Olsa to see how the job interview went, or that's what I thought at the time..."

***

Alice; (cont.)

The meadow was as ever, warm deep green and moist brown, with flashes of reds and purples, streaks of yellows and orange dotting the expanse. Today though was overcast, not the distant wash of blue that normally greeted Alice. Today, the sky was layers of wandering cool grays, with drapes of sunlight peeling through, illuminating clusters of mist and rain which embraced the dream place within the little girl's sleeping mind.

Together on the little hill swell by the big tree, little Alice, now 8, had questions for the old woman with the flowing silver hair lying next to her, both their face's glowing moisture as they looked to the sky.

"Ga?" Alice said quietly, breaking a long silence.

"Yes, my love?"

"Are you God?"

"I don't know. What is God?" The old woman asked sincerely after a moment, turning her head toward her friend/sister/daughter.

"You don't know what God is?" Alice said incredulously. "That's crazy! God is the guy that made the universe n animals n stuff."

"Hmm...well then, first, I'm not a guy, and second, i help the universe n animals n stuff but i didn't make the universe n animals n stuff, so i don't think I'm the God."

"But you talk to everything and can make stuff happen and even bugs listen to you, an you change from a little girl to a old lady, like now...and your name even sounds like God...Ga---Aaadd...see?"

Ga appeared to Alice sometimes as the bouncing ball of energy with flaming red hair past her buttocks, and other times as the old woman, whose sparkling silver hair seemed to reach throughout the entire meadow, weaving and wending itself into the ground like roots made of water. Now, because little Alice needed her friend-mother, not her friend-sister, this was how Ga appeared. Alice was not aware yet that it was all her own need that called on Ga in her different forms, at least that was the now. As Alice grew and learned, Ga would begin to move to other needs through Alice, those of the world...this was as much due to Alice's own desire to heal a sick world as it was Ga's task to care for that which she called her other home; Earth.

"Ga is short for Gaia, my love, not Gaaaaaddd." Ga made a funny face as she imitated her friend-daughter, which made Alice giggle.

"Gaia? Really? That's so pretty! Why didn't you tell me before? Meany." Alice mock frowned and crossed her arms dramatically.

"You gave me that name yourself little flower, when you were a someone else. I thought you already knew."

"When i was a someone else?" Alice questioned intently, as she sat up and leaned on her elbow. "I don't get it."

"You have been a someone else many many times, my love." Ga explained. "When your body can't hold you anymore you dance with me into another. It is the saddest most beautiful dance."

To Ga, everything was a dance; Life, experience, motion...everything. Aua were comprised of light and moved by using the photo-force to attach to passing photons, so they were in a state of constant motion, redirection and speed that no human mind might comprehend. It was truly the grandest of dances.

The dance of a complex soul reincarnating to another was not only joined by the Auan symbiote, it was engineered by it.

"Wow. why is it sad though?" Alice asked, imagining herself, her real self, flying through the air holding Ga's hand as they swirled and laughed into another body, like hurtling down a water-slide into a pristine pool of transparent blue.

"...Because I have to say goodbye to a you..." Ga said, almost inaudibly, as she closed her eyes to allow the salty pools to drain down her cheeks with the misty rain.

Though little Alice was 8 years old in Earth years, to Gaia, her human host had just been reborn, and she remembered every detail of her previous incarnation and the love she had lost when she died. It had been a glorious dance.

"Are you crying, Ga?" Alice had never seen her friend-sister-mother ever cry before. She had never even seen her sad. "Now I'm sad, too. you don't have to cry, Ga, I'm right here."

Alice wrapped her arms around Ga's midsection and rested her head on her chest.

"I see you, My Love." Ga put her hand to Alice's droplet pocked golden hair and ran a finger through it. "I cry joy and sadness. my joy is a new you and a new dance, my sadness is the goodbye and our old dance. So you see, it's both. all things in the dance are both sadness and joy."

"All things?" Alice asked, propping her head up with her chin on Ga's midsection and looking into her gleaming, golden eyes.

"All."

"I love to dance." Alice rested her head back on it's side and closed her eyes.

"I know you do, my love, and yours is my greatest joy."

***

Keb knew Olsana as well as anyone he had ever worked with. They were not the closest friends, but neither were they distant associates. They had met years before as students at a physics seminar and had impressed each other with their common politics, intellect, and humor, but their strongest bond was that they both wanted to save the world. Keb through physics and mathematics, and Olsana as a healer, ultimately. She was a medical doctor and a tenured biology professor, as well as being a published author, and occasionally even a guest on some major market morning talk shows which required intelligent remittance of the science of healing. Her daily toils now included pursuing her passions as the division head of the Hoboken facility of Research Operations Center, or ROC.

It was Olsana who was responsible for Keb's employment at ROC. There had been an opening in the lab for a number cruncher, and though Keb wasn't the big boss' first choice, Olsana had convinced him by showing the CEO, Edge Silver, a paper Keb wrote called 'Applied Temporal Mechanics and the Resolution of Irrational Numbers.' The work itself hadn't been given much credit in general academic circles but there was something to it that was different, Olsana thought, something magic. She felt strongly enough about it that she was willing to put her reputation on the line. Additionally, she felt sorry for Keb.

Research Operations Center Newark, New Jersey April 3, 2004 3:26PM

"I know he's an oddball, Edgar..." Olsana urged

"Edge, please. My mother calls me Edgar." Her boss reminded her, looking at his notes on Keb Snydaar. "and Oddball is a nice way of saying he's mentally ill. He has been remitted to institutions twice. I'm assuming you are aware of this."

Olsana got up from her seat and stood over Dr. Silver's sterile brushed steel platform he used as a desk and leaned toward him, so as to add impact to her next carefully chosen words.

"He's a fucking genius."

Once Edgar George Silverman, now Edge Silver, Chief Executive/Operations Officer of Research Operations Center, liked smart people very much. To he, all people were tools, and the best tools were usually worth the extra cost.

"Okay, Dr. Marisen, i will have Ms. Silverman call him in for an interview..."

"You mean your daughter?" Olsana relaxed her posture at the agreeable resolution.

"Yes, my daughter, my secretary, now please go away before you decide to chastise me for nepotism."

Dr. Silver pressed a button on his intercom.

"Ms. Silverman?"

"Yes Daddy?"

Dr. Silver sighed and closed his eyes in slight exasperation.

"Ms. Silverman, please call Dr. Snydaar in for an interview. Dr. Marisen will give you the number as she's leaving. Now." Edge Silver glared at Olsana Marisen as his subordinate prepared herself to leave. She was smiling.

Research Operations Center Hoboken, New Jersey Aug 12, 2022 12:47PM

The walk back to Dr. Marisen's office wasn't a long one, but today it seemed like a journey. Keb waited 15 minutes after hearing Alice leave before getting up from his chair to make way to question his friend and colleague about the meeting between the two. He didn't want to appear anxious, and also didn't know what would he say to Olsana to mask his true motivation. "Should I admit to having auditory hallucinations?" He thought. "Maybe that some spiritual messenger is speaking to me about this young girl? she'll tell me to go home and sleep for 3 days and not come back until i wasn't seeing floating mandalas in my peripheral vision." Olsana and Keb had discussed his pattern of deprivation on more than a few occasions, She having a similar difficulty in her own personal life; that being insomnia.

The light tapping on Olsana Marisen's door echoed in Keb's head, and for a moment he forgot that it was he that was knocking.

"Come in, damn it!" The long time occupant of the largest office in the facility screamed through the closed, smoked glass door, loud enough to make everyone in the outer areas and adjoining small lab freeze.

"Is the volume really necessary, Olsa?" Keb said, slightly annoyed, placing his index finger in his ear as he opened her door.

"I yelled three times for you to come in, deaf goofball." Olsana said loudly, with some level of exasperation. "Each time louder than the last, while you stood there like a zombie. I swear, i think you're drooling."

Keb stared at Olsana distantly.

"What is wrong with you today, Keb? You really seem out of it all of a sudden." Olsana said, concern replacing her edge of frustration. "Are you coming down with something? If so, you need to go home before you get us all sick."

"No. Not sick." He said in the doorway.

Upon entering Keb sat down on the large antique chair, as always, that Olsana Marisen kept toward the side of her voluminous desk. Her workspace was decorated with a menagerie of distractions; there was what appeared to be an entire set of miniature cartoon sculptures holding placards touting the strengths of her gender, which was one of her many rallying calls, and there were little plastic goats of every shape, size, and construction standing sentry on staggered piles of paper, texts and notebooks, as if they were part of a mountainous diorama.

However, the most telling and potent aspect of Olsana Marisen's immediate periphery were the pictures of men. They were everywhere. Small pictures, large pictures, black men, brown men, white men, golden men,; the only common denominator that any observer might notice was that they were all either naked or half-naked. Keb mostly just ignored the pictures, having grown inured to Olsana's wanton and overt display's of man worship, and only occasionally commented on any new material that she had decided to add to her shrine.

"Aren't you concerned with sexual harassment issues?" He had asked her once, years ago.

"Should i be? does any of this stuff really offend you?" She had said, with serious demeanor. "Doesn't seem to bother anyone else or I'd take it down. Just say the word and I'll pack up my fella's, though i suspect that you're just a little jealous of mister January...Officer abs. ooooh yummy!"

"No, it doesn't bother me a bit," Keb had chuckled. "But i can't help thinking that you're opening yourself up to some misery somewhere along the line."

"I appreciate your concern, Dr. Prudenchaste, but i hide all my guys whenever an outsider enters my lair." she had said happily, and that had ended the conversation then and forever more. To know and love Olsana was to know and accept that part of her.

Sitting in the cozy, ornately quilted chair, Keb lost himself in it's soft embrace, it's well-worn cushions and comforting smell of musty, decades old upholstery. Breathing deeply the reminder of times past at family reunions, Keb realized that he was again in the midst of a silent reverie, which to many he indulged in too frequently, and remembered suddenly why he came in to see Olsana.

"I didn't know you were looking for help." Keb said nonchalantly, looking at his nail-bitten fingers. He had decided that an indirect tact would be the path of least humiliation.

"I'm not." Olsana said. "If you're talking about the young lady that just left, Alice, she was referred to me by a friend."

"Medical consult?" Keb asked, now sympathetically concerned with the welfare of a woman he didn't even know.

"In a way....wait a sec." Olsana said, grinning widely, and she slapped her palm to the desk top, making several little goats tumble from their paper perches. "You like her. Dirty old man."

Keb just stared at Olsana, not even able to muster the energy necessary to show indignation.

"That's okay, Keb. happens to the best of us." She said, smiling at her friend and colleague.

"Implying that I am not among the best of us?" He said, weakly, thinking his best defense here would have to be a change of direction.

"You know what i mean, goofy. Don't try to change the subject."

One of Keb's great frustrations in life was a general disability to hide his feelings, a natural weakness exacerbated by an annoying and substantial mood disorder. "You wear your heart on your sleeve." His father would tell him, trying to coach his difficult son through times of upheaval. "People see right through you. It's a good thing you have a conscience or we'd all be in trouble."

"Yea, she's pretty." Keb said reluctantly, knowing the hopelessness of trying to maintain any subterfuge with someone who knew him well.

"Right." Olsana smirked. "She's a Viking Princess! And don't even try to tell me your jaw didn't hit the floor when you saw her. You can't fool me. But anyway, too bad for you, she has a boyfriend."

This didn't surprise Keb but he still could not suppress the sudden sinking feeling, like a ball of ice in his gut.

"What's her story?" he said, attempting to move quickly past the quick-sand of his emotions.

"Well, funny you should take an interest, because i was going to ask you to come in on this one, anyway." Olsana said, becoming suddenly serious.

Keb instinctively leaned forward, as Dr. Marisen's voice always dropped several decibels when she was on task, though the soft cushions of the chair didn't make it easy for him.

"Ok..." Keb said reflexively, as Olsana leaned back in her own custom, ergonomic chair, which looked not unlike a pilot's ejector seat in a modern jet fighter, pressed her finger tips together and shared with him the story of the girl she had offhandedly referred to as their very own Viking Princess, named Alice.

Keb listened intently while Olsana went over the details of Alice's visit; how she had been through a revolving door of councilors, analysts, and psychiatrists, to try and cope with what Olsana referred to as AHSD, or Acute Hyper-Sensitivity Disorder. He had never heard of it before, but Olsana didn't seem to see it as just another pigeon-holing psychiatric device to further partition gifted people away from the rest of the world, so who was he to doubt the diagnosis.

Eventually, and fortunately for Alice, she met a Psychiatrist named Dr. Shane Michaelson, a brilliant individual who placed patient care and treatment above all else. Dr. Michaelson was a professional associate of Dr. Marisen, as they frequented parallel academic circles, social and professional, and he had Olsana's utmost respect. The good doctor relayed to Olsana that it had taken him several sessions (a dozen or so, in fact) with Alice to get her to feel comfortable, but they together had managed to navigate her trust issues and were able to proceed toward treatment.

***

Offices of Dr. Shane Michaelson Philadelphia, PA. July 3, 2022 2:12PM

Dr. Michaelson had listened to Alice talk about her childhood and schooling, adolescence and her difficult passage to womanhood, and finally to the present, whereas she revealed to him, at least as much as she wanted him to know, her true reason for seeking help. Though she had endured a childhood and life which presented any of a host of valid reasons for her anxiety and depression; various abuses, abandonment et al. she noted with assurance, however, the primary source was external...a feeling of impending doom that was going beyond distraction, and it had nothing to do with her own troubled upbringing.

She also revealed to Dr. Michaelson, as opportunity dictated, that one special secret she had been keeping since the age of 4. The promise to Ga.

"Don't tell anyone about our bond, My Love." Ga had asked her, trapping Alice in their innocent bond. However, Ga had also given her a key to this prison, as all secrets were prisons to Alice.

"How will I know, Ga?"

"The little frog will lead you, My Love."

Dr. Michaelson had a tiny crystal frog on his desk. It was the first thing Alice noticed about his office and ultimately why she allowed herself to open up to him.

When Alice revealed to the doctor the truth, that she felt that the world was talking to her, and that it had always talked to her; through Gaia, and messages in the sound of wind passing through trees, in the presence and behavior of animals or their sign, even in the weather.

"I know what you're thinking." Alice said to Dr. Michaelson during this, another of their extended sessions. "That I'm suffering some form of delusion. Maybe you think I'm bipolar or even schizophrenic, i don't know."

"I didn't say that." He said, staring at her intently while chewing the end of his pencil.

"What else would you think? If our positions were reversed that's for sure what i would be thinking." She said, smiling slightly. "That bitch has bats in her belfry! But that's okay. You can think whatever you please, i don't mind."

Alice then went on to detail to Dr. Michaelson why she felt as she did, referencing specifics of her dreams, the meadow, Gaia and associations in her real life; signs and events and how she had interpreted, acted, and interacted as a result.

On this day that she outlined these things to him, these closely guarded intimacies and personal skeletons, Dr. Michaelson became a different man. Not because of what Alice had said to him, but because of what she would show him. Shane Michaelson had been practicing psychiatric medicine for 7 years. Before that he spent 4 years as an ER Surgeon, and before that, 9 years a resident of Jacob Kurtzberg Memorial Hospital. In the 20 years he had been immersed in these various aspects of his profession, he had seen and heard just about everything. or so he thought.

"I know you don't believe me." Alice said, looking out the window at a crow sitting proudly atop a sparsely populated tree.

"About what?" the Doctor had said, feigning ignorance. "I believe everything you tell me."

"You believe that the Earth speaks to me?" Alice dared him, with eyebrow cocked.

"Well...I believe that you are earnest in your belief." Dr Michaelson offered diplomatically. "But, do I believe that what you are experiencing is actually the Earth talking to you? That might take some convincing."

"Okay. May I open the window?" Alice asked politely, getting up from the good doctor's tasteful patient couch.

"You're not going to jump because of what i just said, are you?" he said. "We're on the first floor."

"No, Doctor." Alice laughed. "I wouldn't be so selfish as to negatively affect your future livelihood. Besides, who you do you see more interesting than me, hmm?"

Dr. Michaelson laughed as Alice gracefully moved to the window, and taking a moment to familiarize herself with the locking mechanism, proceeded to release the window from it's brass constraint and lifted the bottom pane, which revealed a light screen on the other side. Fortunately, it was not permanently secured to the outer window and could be opened in the same manner. Were it not for this simple detail, she might have been unable to change the doctors stance on her metaphysical sensitivities, and he might have remained as he was; a brilliant, accomplished and ultimately unenlightened man.

Alice would change the last of these forever.

She hated to show off, it made her feel uncomfortable and vain. However, some instances required a little something extra; some showmanship. This was one of those cases.

After opening the Doctor's window and it's adjacent screen, Alice moved to the couch and sat down again, smoothing her long, flowing skirt under her so as to not let it bunch and wrinkle. She then looked at Dr. Michaelson, smiled softly, placed her hands together on her lap and closed her eyes.

The Doctor said nothing. He knew her well enough to see that she was preparing to communicate something to him, maybe something distressing, and that these periodic silences were her small retreats to regroup and steady herself.

The brief vacuum of silence lasted only a moment, as a large crow, not coincidentally the one that Alice had been watching a moment earlier, accompanied by a gust of wind from it's large, iridescent ebony wings, flew in the open window and, scattering mail and unmoored post-it notes, landed on Dr. Michaelson's desk.

The bird took a step forward, stared Dr. Michaelson in his eye, cocked it's head sideways, and abruptly took the small crystal sculpture of the little frog in its beak. The frog had been gifted to Dr. Michaelson by his staff, 4 birthdays past. he loved it.

The aggressive avian then took a side step back, ruffled it's feathers, and flew out the open window, crystal frog in beak, past a smiling young girl who was watching a silent and jaw agape Dr. Shane Michaelson.

The room was motionless for several seconds.

"Okay... that was crazy." The Doctor said, finally recovering his senses. "I...I loved that frog. Am I to believe that you did that somehow?"

"Well, if I answer 'yes," Alice said thoughtfully, "...then you would have to either take me at my word, and accept that the Earth Mother, Gaia and I really do communicate, or consider the possibility that i own a trained crow and set this up somehow. I'm guessing that that's exactly what's going through your head right now."

Alice had impressed Dr. Michaelson many times; with her intelligence, passion for learning, humanity, and humor. Occasionally she even intimidated him, something few people could accomplish, with only the force of her spirit and goodness. This was another of those times, whereas she seemed to be looking right at his brain through the eye sockets of his skull.

"Or I suppose you would have to include the possibility of coincidence." Dr Michaelson said, though he didn't believe that for a second.

"Would you like it back?" Alice asked, coyly.

"You mean the frog? um...yes." He returned cautiously.

Alice again slowly shut her eyes, softly inhaled slow and deep, and placed her hands together on her lap. and she smiled.

In a second rush of wind and disarray of unmoored papers being jostled about, the crow returned, and also for the second time, landed on Dr. Michaelson's desk.

The crow looked at the tall, dark man sitting at the desk, blinked to clear it's glowing onyx eyes, and dropped a medium sized pine-cone to rest precisely where the crystal frog had been. It then ruffled indignantly, took two steps in a semi-circle to face Alice, cawed loudly, and flew off through the open window; perhaps to go look at it's new frog sculpture.

Alice laughed harder than Dr. Shane Michaelson had seen before, and maybe even more than the doctor thought her capable of.

"Nice pine cone." she said, chuckling.

"Where's my frog?" He said boyishly, staring at the pine cone and fully in a haze of confusion. This was not a state of mind in which Shane Michaelson was often found.

"I asked him nicely to return it, but i guess he likes it and doesn't want to give it back." Alice smiled and sighed. "However, in crow-land apparently, that is a mighty fine pine cone and a fair trade."

That was all the convincing Dr. Michaelson had needed.

The two occupants of the comfortable and very civilized office sat in silence, both listening to their own inner voices.

They jointly determined that day that there would be no standard treatment, drugs, or really anything within the normal confines of accepted Western medicine that might help Alice with her unsettling feelings of the dark and imminent. Dr. Michaelson was now compelled to accept the possibility that these feelings of Alice's might be more than could be explained through existing prejudices. Terms like 'prophesy' and 'oracle' danced mockingly in his head, pointing fingers at his smug self-assurance and cynicism.

"I need to make a call." He said, quickly deciding his plan of action.

He would need tests; MRi, CT, maybe even a nuclear WBC scan. Also, extensive monitoring and cataloging of Alice's abilities would have to be scheduled. There was only one place that he knew of that had both the resources and the 'out-of-the-box' thinking necessary to take on this project.

Dr. Michaelson picked up the handset of his desk phone, cycled through a list of numerical entries on the small LED display of the base unit and dialed.

"Hello, Olsa? It's Shane. We need to talk."

Research Operations Center Hoboken, New Jersey Aug 12, 2022 1:28PM

Olsana waited to gauge Keb's reaction to what she had told him. She wasn't sure if she believed it herself, having to suspend her disbelief due to the source of the information, and she was unsure how her colleague might react.

Dr. Shane Michaelson was not one to be taken lightly, surely, and Keb was aware of the psychiatrist's reputation but had no personal knowledge of him whatsoever.

"What do you think?" Olsana urged, watching him intently.

"The Crow, The Crystal Frog, and The Pinecone." Keb said absently, staring at his fingers. "Sounds like CS Lewis. I think Michaelson is ingesting psilocybin."

"He was serious as a heart attack on the phone, Keb." Olsana continued. "He wouldn't call me if he thought this was a normal circumstance. He knows the kind of work we do here."

"What does he think we can do?" Keb wondered out loud. "Sounds like a job for spiritualists, not a think tank."

"Do you think i would just accept what anyone tells me without clarifying the feasibility and dynamics in my own mind?" Olsana chastised. "There is no one on the planet whose psychological evaluation I value more than Shane's, and he says there is more to this...to her...than meets the eye. This is as much about the source of the information as the information itself."

"C'mon, Olsa... you really think she talks to trees? hmm..." Keb said, then moments after remembered that he had heard something too, when they first met. Might they be related? Keb's mind began to crunch commonalities and possibilities.

"I think that you should talk to Alice. Devise some simple test so you can see for yourself if her condition warrants our particular mojo." Olsana smiled. "If you'd rather I can get someone else to pick this up."

Keb couldn't help but smile himself, knowing Olsana was teasing him with her takeaway.

"I'll do it, of course." Keb agreed.

"Of course. I'll have Tammy set up a meeting for you and Alice to get acquainted." Olsana smiled back, referring to Tammy Silverman, Edge's daughter and company secretary. "Just let me know when you have some free time and an idea of how you'll test her."

"I already know how to proceed. It won't be difficult to gauge her claims of tree talking." Keb said, having devised a simple test in his mind moments after the problem presented itself. "And Time? Well, that I have plenty of."

Keb's Apartment Hillside, New Jersey Aug 19, 2022 7:18AM

On the day of their first scheduled meeting, Keb woke up an hour early, unable to keep his eyes closed. He only slept 3 hours the night before but still felt energized. Today he would see Alice again. He was nervous, certainly, but also intrigued at the prospect of delving into her situation.

"She's a tree talker." He mused to his reflection while shaving, and let his mind run wild at the applications.

If she communicates with trees, he thought, then trees must have some level of intelligence, and if so, it wouldn't be a stretch to assume that all plant life had intelligence as well. He then considered the symbiotic relationship between plant and animal organisms, and perhaps the commonality there, or a level of communication that had never been considered before. Keb Snydaar was not a biologist. His academic strengths were purely mathematical and related to basic atomic structure. Living organisms were chemical and chemistry was not his forte. Chemistry was sloppy and inexact, he thought. Fickle.

Normally Keb didn't give much thought to his attire, as long as he was comfortable, but today he wanted to make a good impression. he picked out his best form fitting jeans, the worn Levi 501s, and a button down shirt that he had ironed the evening before. he considered wearing a necktie even, but reconsidered, as he thought it might seem a bit much. They were going to go for a walk in the woods, and business casual in woods would just make him stand out as an uncomfortable and detached individual. He laughed to himself that the truth hurts, that he was the poster child for uncomfortable and detached, but advertising it was even more socially inept than being so.

He looked himself up and down in the door length mirror of his cluttered room, and satisfied that he would not be the subject of disapproving stares, made his way toward whatever fate, destiny and dumb luck might make present in his path. Before making contact with the doorknob he patted his pockets to ensure he had migrated his entire walking inventory to these pants and ran through his mental checklist of needed accessories; notebook, writing implement...coffee??

How had he forgotten coffee? He would have to stop somewhere and buy some.

"idiot idiot idiot" Keb chastised himself out loud for this simple oversight. Now he would have to deal with this anomaly; stopping somewhere for coffee, and all the associated little anxieties that would accompany it.

He ran through the event in his mind, anticipating the extra traffic in the turn lane he would encounter, the uncomfortable tapering of distance between himself and another patron going in the front door, the imminent choice he would have to make between a fresh pot of medium brew, or a slightly burnt and older pot of dark brew, the eye contact and connection with the store clerk...

He had to forcefully stop himself by shaking his head, or he might stay frozen like this for minutes...and sometimes those minutes turned to hours. He pictured Alice as he had first seen her, extending her hand to him and smiling, then he took a deep breath and made his out.

***

Alice's Apartment. Maplewood, New Jersey Aug 19, 2022 7:45AM

"Wake up, My Love."

Alice smiled as she heard those familiar words, somewhere between the last dream and now...

"Today we have important things to do."

"Okay, I'm up Ga..." She said lazily, adoring the warmth of her comforter and familiar smells of morning, then stretching her arms outward and yawning.

"What's a Ga?"

Alice started, but only internally, the sole betrayal her eyes sudden opening and full awareness. She immediately took stock of her surroundings. The white and volume of her own bedding, the smell of lavender and cinnamon in the air, the musk and warmth of male body and the contour of the person next to her. She was home.

"Mornin' sleepy dreamer." The figure beside her said, and leaned toward her face and mouth.

"Mornin' yourself handsome." Alice replied, turning her head away from his advance. "Breath..."

"I brushed my teeth a few minutes ago."

"Not yours, mine." Alice propped her upper half to sitting and eyed her bedmate approvingly. "Do I smell coffee?"

"You do. I'll go get you some." Her companion leapt athletically to his feet and eager to show off his kind deference and barista skill both, scurried off to his immediate task.

"He's such a good boy," Alice thought to herself. "I think I'll keep him."

Alice decided to take advantage of these minutes and closed her eyes to melt into the meadow, but only for a moment.

"Good morning, My Love."

Gaia was waiting for Alice, kneeling beside her as she opened her eyes. She was her middle self, though more young than old; her hair was almost entirely bright amber, with a single streak of silver running it's entirety into the ground. She was stroking Alice's golden hair and humming softly.

"Was that you who woke me up?" Alice asked immediately.

"Well, i can't take all the credit, now can I?"

"Did you speak to me from here? or..." Alice asked, needing some clarification on what had transpired as she woke. Never before had she confused a person, any person, with Ga. She wasn't sure who she had heard first, Ga or...

"...Sully. I spoke to you with his voice." Ga admitted, referring to Alice's love, Sully Robertson.

"I didn't even know you could do that." Alice said nervously. "It's kind of creepy."

"I'm sorry My Love. I do not dance with the thought of speaking with another's voice. I only spoke for a moment and was gone."

"I understand Ga. I haven't forgotten." Alice said, softly. "The Dak Aua is coming..."

"...and we have work to do." Both Ga and Alice said simultaneously.

Research Operations Center Hoboken, New Jersey Aug 19, 2022 9:28AM

The air was thick with moisture, having rained earlier in the morning, and there were still small pools scattered about and roof edges and trees still slowly dripped. The drive to work had been slow, and with the extra stop for coffee already weighing on Keb's mind he would on any other day have already reached his personal tolerance for delay. Today, however, he took it all in stride, his mind racing in several directions at once. How would she look? He thought. "Will she be upset with me for trying to debunk her mythos? Will she like my jeans? What if she's a fraud? What if she's not a fraud?..."

The last of these questions weighed heaviest on his mind. Alice had already seemingly convinced two highly intelligent professionals of her ... odd ... sensitivities. What would he do if...? this was always the toughest question, with everything. So many possibilities, so many wildcards, so many outcomes. Too many to fully digest, he thought. Baby steps.

As Keb pulled into his parking spot, the one incorrectly marked for Dr. Snyder, he saw Alice get out of her car and walk towards the front entrance. He could've gotten out immediately and gotten her attention with a friendly 'Good Morning!' but he opted for the path of least anxiety, as had become his instinct. He needed some moments to prepare to say hello; he couldn't just approach her in the parking lot. could he? So he just sat and watched.

He watched as she motivated herself forward, noting that her elbows stuck out when she moved at a brisk pace, and her wide braid bouncing between her shoulder blades as she walked. He wondered if it bothered her, the persistent pattern of contact. She wore loose fitting sweat pants and a wind breaker over a simple printed white t-shirt. Keb thought she looked like someone going on a gambling junket to Mississippi.

He watched as she stopped by a tree and looked up, and waved hello to a small bird. He half expected to see it land on her finger and accompany Alice in a song.

Having satisfied her need to interact with her new friend, the sparrow, Alice made her way into the modest looking glass and concrete facility, and seeing this, Keb proceeded to exit his car and walked along the elegantly landscaped path into the building. As he passed the small birch tree where Alice had her brief commune, he heard a single staccato *chirp, and looking up, saw Alice's friend.

"Hello bird." Keb said, noticing a small black and orange spot on it's left side.

*chirp* The bird repeated itself, staring at Keb from the safety of it's elevated perch.

"Really? She said that about me?" Keb played. "Wow, she must think I'm pretty awesome, huh?"

The sparrow ruffled it's feathers and turned away.

"Guess not." Keb mock frowned. "But there's always hope, right bird? What's that? I need to accomplish something with my life? Then maybe she'll come around? Well, you do make a valid point... Hmm, I'll have to think on your words of clarity..."

"Oh, he's just impatient. Sparrows are the most impatient of all birds, I think. Well, maybe seagulls. But sparrows are definitely up there."

Keb jumped sideways as he heard Alice speak as if she had miraculously appeared beside him. It was fortunate for him that today he insured his coffee lid was securely capped.

"I'm sorry for startling you." Alice chuckled. "I just got here myself. I forgot something in my car."

"S'ok." Keb wondered how she had moved so quietly, and how much she had heard. Would she know he was talking about her?

"How are you this morning?" He tested.

"Stressed!" Alice said immediately. "Holy shit, I can't believe how people drive around here! I saw half a dozen near misses on the turnpike this morning. I'm amazed that anyone here in New Jersey manages to get where they're going alive."

Keb laughed at Alice's irritated and somewhat profane commentary. It was unexpected. He imagined her to be a 'one with the universe' type of individual, one that let things roll off her back. Apparently, like Keb himself, she suffered to some extent the same irritation at the general lack of compassion and empathy one see's on a daily basis in these United States, especially when driving.

"Where I'm from, people may be a bit crazy too, but they at least have some semblance of regard for other motorists."

"Well, I'm glad we both made it safely, regardless." Keb said, wanting to go inside and prepare for their appointment with the wood.

"I know, right? I'll meet you inside, i just need to grab something from my car."

"Okay." Keb said, walking. "I just have to check in with Dr. Marisen and let her know I'm here."

*chirp*

"The bird says to 'say hi' for him." Alice said, seriously.

"Really?" Keb said, stopping suddenly and looking back at her.

"No." Alice grinned, showing her perfect teeth. "Gotcha!"

Alice laughed cheerily as she strutted back to her car, elbows out.

Keb stared at her as she walked, his mind on her femininity, contour, and grace. He stopped himself before his thoughts naturally migrated to sexuality. That wouldn't be fair to her or to Research Ops. Keb already understood how his emotional state might negatively affect this or any other academic process; were he to add to that the constant pressure of intimate appetites, well...chances are that Alice would leave prematurely and Keb would be the cause, an undesirable outcome.

He shook his head slightly, as much from habit as to clear unwanted thoughts, and walked through the nondescript entrance to Research Operations Center, Hoboken.

The facility was alive with motion and the sounds and smells of industry and had been for several hours. There were technicians scurrying to and fro with burdens of tools, and expedience, administrative personnel carrying coffee and conversation, deliverymen with clip-boards and looks of impatience, and construction workers laboring against gravity and restraint. It was a busy day, but every day was a busy day here at Research Ops. Private sector folks didn't have the luxury of living on their own clock, as Universities and Government facilities often did. Money only appeared with expectation, not charity, and expectation only appeared with potential, progress, and results. That was what mattered to Edge Silver, and he would not tolerate anything but 'asses and elbows' in motion.

"Good morning Olsa." Keb said earnestly to his friend, colleague, and supervisor, who was sitting in a resin chair at one of the utility tables in the foyer, drinking coffee and reviewing a progress report.

"Well, good morning to you, sunshine! Big day today!" She replied enthusiastically. "You ready?"

"As ready as ever, I suppose."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic. Something bothering you?"

"Not really. Just same shit as ever, I guess." Keb said. "Wondering where this stuff with Alice will lead, is all. I mean, if Alice is what we think she may be, then the world is a different place to what we've all been taught. Everything changes. And if she's not..."

"...then Alice is mentally ill, or a fraud." Olsana said seriously, completing Keb's thought.

"...and Occam's Razor suggests that the likelihood is the latter of those scenarios," He continued. "...and that makes me sad."

"Would make us all sad. Waste of time, and resources. Speak of the devil!" Olsana said abruptly, as much a greeting as a warning to Keb that Alice was in earshot. "Good morning sunshine!"

"Good morning to you!" Alice said as she walked into the foyer, matching Olsana's positivity and cheer. "I'm all set to go talk to trees for you."

Olsana laughed. Keb just stared, unsure if Alice was joking or not.

"Here, I packed some stuff for you guys that I'm pretty sure Keb overlooked." Olsana retrieved a small grocery sack made of canvas from under the table. "Water, first aid kit, Swiss army knife, insect repellent, snacks..."

"This is an experiment, Olsana, not a picnic..." Keb said, immediately sorry that he did.

"What's wrong with a little picnic?" Alice quickly joined, rescuing Keb from his own impulsive negativity. "All work and no play makes Keb a dull boy."

"That's what I'm sayin'!" Olsana bellowed. "Now you two skedaddle, and don't come back 'til the sandwiches are eaten. Here Alice, you drive. I already signed out a company ride for you two. The Beast!"

Olsana handed Alice a ring of car keys with a large ROC fob on it.

"Okay..." Alice said reluctantly, looking at Keb to gauge his reaction, who had an unreadable expression, other than his normal look of seeming to be in pain. "The Beast?"

"Keb hates to drive." Olsana explained for him. "Besides, I don't think he can handle the sheer force of 'The Beast'... Girl Power!"

Olsana raised her fist in the air, and there were several echoes of her sentiment to be heard throughout the immediate environment, including applause and vocal support. In her realm, and this facility was indeed her realm, Olsana fostered not only a place of safety for female workers, but a place of power.

"I'm not so sure I can handle The Beast, either." Alice remarked, looking again to gauge Keb's reaction.

Keb rolled his eyes.

"The Beast is a two seat electric car. The engine was converted from a power screwdriver, i think." Keb said.

"So, The Beast is an herbivore then?" Alice joked, making both Olsana and Keb laugh. Taking the laughter as a cue, Olsana bid the two good luck and sent them on their way.

As they walked together quietly out of the building, Alice's mind was distracted by the thought of comfort she got when she made Keb laugh. And maybe she felt something else, something more than just comfort? She would have to ask Ga, she thought.

The drive to Hacklebarney State Park, which took approximately 45 minutes, gave Keb and Alice a little time to get personally acquainted. They spoke about their hometowns and schooling, and Research Operations Center, Edge Silver, and Olsana, and learned that they had several common passions. They both loved coffee, music, and art, but more importantly, they found that they genuinely liked each other. Alice was surprised to learn that Keb had a sense of humor, and had made her laugh several times on the ride. Keb was compelled by Alice's intelligence, the way she phrased things, her rational insights and morality.

"Do you want some insect repellent? Still wet outside from the rain. Gonna be skeeters." Keb offered, as he searched through the canvas bag of supplies.

"No thank you. I don't use pesticides."

"Ever?" Keb asked, surprised. "What if you get ants or roaches in your house?"

"I don't." Alice said. "I keep a clean house, thank you very much."

Though Alice spoke truthfully, it wasn't merely her attention to orderliness and cleanliness that kept pests at bay, it was Gaia.

Gaia's constituent particles, Auton's they would soon be dubbed, at varying levels of concentration were in every living thing on Earth; every insect, every bird, every plant. She, and others like her, was the connection between all things organic. She was why a mass of hundreds and thousands of Starlings flew together as if of a single mind, and why massive schools of Herring danced as if all to the same music. They were as one, through Gaia.

Gaia did not actively or consciously control all living organisms, but she was present, nudging here and prodding there. She could control her own parts, her autons, as precisely as a human could manipulate their own fingers, massing them together to focus light energy and heat at nano tolerances, delicately arranging them to manipulate the color dance, and even using them to capture and vector clusters of electrons. Control was not part of her dance, though. On an evolutionary scale she was more sculptor or potter, than a maker or packager of clay, but the ability to control was viable and potent, if largely ignored.

"...and the skeeters?" Keb prodded.

"I'm not sure if I've ever been bitten by a mosquito, frankly." Alice said, thoughtfully. "Or by any bug, come to think of it."

"Bee sting?"

"Nope."

"Fire ant?"

"Nope."

Keb stared at Alice for far longer than he normally would have felt comfortable with. He was scanning her for her emotional state, looking for any signs that she was at any level full of shit. He didn't see any. All her could read on her was sincerity and... good. He searched internally for a better word. Good was subjective, he knew, and could be sourced from many of a thousand places, the most common including upbringing, personal tragedy, and current economic perspective, all malleable and externally coerced. But as he stared, he wondered if maybe he was wrong, if maybe there was a quantifiable, consistent and polar quality called 'good,' and Alice was that.

"You think I'm full of shit." Alice stated flatly, eyes remaining focused on the surrounding traffic that loomed over the small automobile that whined it's frustration at maximum occupancy and minimum thrust.

"I believe you, though what you're telling me is naturally anomalous, unless you live in a bubble."

"But you believe me." She repeated, turning her attention to look in Keb's eyes.

Keb saw in her eyes everything he had thought previously, but more and unexpectedly he saw her need for him to believe her. It displayed a vulnerability he had not seen in her before, a very real softness. He saw her hurt and got just a tiny taste of her damage, and he loved her for it.

"She is here for me." He remembers.

His mind drifted to that moment he touched her. Sometimes, when he mentally floated and let the delusion ride unfettered he believed it meant she would love him. However, even when within the easy embrace of fantasy his brain wouldn't allow for simple, easy answers. Maybe the message was not focused on him, he thought, but on her. maybe it was she who needed help and he would necessarily provide it.

Someone of mystic experience had long ago told him that there were two types of greatness; the glory of kings and the poetry of king makers. According to his tarot profile and the pseudo-calculus of numerology, he was to be the latter of these, only. A fun detail he liked to remind himself of from time to time.

"I'm glad you believe me Keb." Alice said, turning her attention back to the road and breaking him free of his passenger-induced hypnosis.

"OH YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!" She yelled suddenly, hitting the brakes to avoid a collision with an aggressive motorist in a pickup truck who had decided that small electric cars were unworthy of consideration and a place on the common roadway.

"Fucking pricks in pickup trucks, I tell you." Alice continued railing, shaking her head. "I wonder if a person that buys a pickup is already an asshole or if the vehicle itself makes them a dick."

"Well, I imagine that the power of the pickup's V8 catalyzes an aggressiveness that is already present in the driver," Keb said thoughtfully, "And that this is exacerbated by the driver's relative elevation."

Alice turned to Keb and stared.

"You said fuck. twice." He added quietly, staring off to the right, smiling.

Keb expected her to laugh but instead was dismayed that she became apologetic.

"I'm sorry if my cussing bothers you..." She began

"PUH-leese!" Keb interrupted. "I was kidding. You can scream obscenities at the moon all day if you need to, I don't mind. I read a study that indicated people that use profanity regularly are significantly more likely to display loyalty and compassion in their everyday lives."

"Fuckin' ay." Alice smiled. "Hey, there's a sign for the park. We made it in one piece. Yay!"

Hacklebarney State Park Morris County, New Jersey Aug 19, 2022 10:43AM

As Alice pulled into the park driveway they mutually decided that a spot with a charging station situated close to a bathroom would be best for all purposes, and found a suitable location quickly. It was the middle of the day in the middle of the week so there were many open spots, for parking and all other park related activities. This pleased both of them, as another of their common preferences was to avoid crowds of people whenever possible. For Alice, this meant quiet, which was her sanctum. For Keb, it meant a slight reprieve from heightened anxiety, which increased as his elbow space lessened.

As they got out of the small car Alice stared at the line of trees that wrapped around their location interrupted by several small paths, wooden handrails and small utility sheds. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, then smiled and put her arms out as if greeting the world, which she was.

"Hello My Love!" She said to the sky and surrounding life, then wrapped her arms around her shoulders in a self-embrace.

Keb watched silently and noted that the breeze changed as she spoke, creating music in the tree line, and several movements came into his peripheral vision. Where moments before he saw only a sparsely populated public park, now he noted the erratic path of butterflies, swallowtails, he remembered, and dragonflies, dozens of them, hovering and darting looking for mosquitos to torment and devour. and Birds, chirping and creating havoc in the branches. Had they been making that much noise before? He wasn't sure but it seemed that the ambient noise increased noticeably in relation to their being there. Or, Keb corrected himself, to Alice being there.

He chastised himself for not thinking of audio concerns regarding the experiment. Stupid arrogant idiot, he kicked himself, realizing that he did not take this experiment seriously enough, even though he had convinced himself otherwise.

"I should've brought a recorder and a condenser mic." Keb said out loud, completing his internal dialog.

"Maybe next time." Alice chirped, her mood clearly elevated at her surroundings, even though she was in a fine mood already.

"Isn't it glorious!" Alice spread her arms out, as if to showcase the horizon to him. "Keb, I would like to formally introduce you to Mama."

"Hello Mama." Keb said, smiling, though he didn't know who he was smiling at.

Alice leaned into the car and retrieved her carry bag, a cotton tie-dyed sack with brightly colored patches of flowers and peace signs sewn on, shouldered it, and smiled brightly.

"I'm ready." She chimed, as she reached into her bag and pulled out an old Konica single lens reflex camera and set the strap around her neck. "Lead on McDuff."

"What's the camera for?" Keb asked innocently.

Alice stared blankly at him, blinking once.

"It's for taking pictures." She said after a moment, her tone matching her look of mild condescension.

Keb laughed so suddenly that he snorted, breaking Alice's facade of mock disbelief, and she laughed too. Keb didn't notice but when she laughed, the entire landscaped reacted, growing slightly brighter, greener.

"C'mon Keb, let's go this way." Alice decided to take the lead, waving him to follow. She could feel Keb's anxiety, and it was her natural way to address discomfort in others, she didn't consciously think about it. She would be the lantern carrier.

Alice had been diagnosed by the esteemed Dr. Michaelson as 'suffering' Acute Hyper-Sensitivity Disorder. Upon reading this in her ROC report, Keb equated this to being a clinical quantification for an individual that had empathy. That was what Western medicine had deemed as a detriment. To he, the absurdity of this was almost comical.

Keb had reflected for long hours on the behavior of humanity; what makes us different from non-sentient life forms, and the simplest answer that he could arrive at was empathy and compassion. These were the qualities least present in the behavior of all forms we consider non-sentient. Life itself doesn't give a shit one way or another, he thought. We make the choice to alter the currents and tides of life and give form to hope and self-evolution, and only those who Feel can willfully provide this to others.

A person that cannot sense the suffering and need of another is not a vital organism. It is sole and parasitic by nature. One that can feel the suffering and need of another, yet chooses to ignore that need, or worse, manipulate it to add to their own mass, displays simple animal behavior and is flaccid in their ability to alter the flow to support and grow the system.

Only the one that can sense the need of another, and make the choice to address this need without the machination of adding to their own mass may be defined as sentient. Sentience is not truly about being self-aware, he thought...it is about being out-of-self aware.

Keb didn't know it, but the very thing he defined as the sole common property of higher intelligence, empathy, was the very reason Gaia had been drawn to Alice. Her great empathy, this diagnosed sensitivity disorder, was the most beautiful dance Gaia had ever seen. The way Alice's nervous system lit up with electrical activity in response to the dance of other living organisms was, to Ga, an oasis of organic sensation. When Ga merged with Alice it was like she was born herself into Alice's consciousness and it's wonder.

"I think you make a better McDuff, anyway." Keb said absently, adjusting his own burden on his shoulder and following dutifully, surveying his immediate path for obstacles.

"You sayin' I'm Butch?" Alice teased.

"Sayin' you kick ass."

"I wish." Alice laughed. She had in the past been made to feel powerless at the hands of certain people, and still experienced some level of frustration at what she perceived of as a lack of physical potency. She sometimes had to remind herself that her potency, her own magic, was very real and very unique.

As they walked, Alice leading by a few paces, she told Keb the story of Ga. It was an intimate sharing for her, a vulnerability displayed, but she was in the woods now, among the trees, her Temple, and she recognized him now as a kind, gentle soul. Damaged, certainly, she thought, but still she felt safe here with him. A person's damage gives them defining texture and contour, and to she, there was little art in those with no damage.

"What do you think Gaia is, physically?" Keb asked, making notes as they walked.

"Light."

"What makes you say that?"

"I can feel her in the sunlight. When her rays touch me it feels like when you're in a room with someone you love. You're not touching them, just sitting together, but you know they're there."

"Do you feel her in artificial light?"

"Yes and no. Not really the same, like she's only partly there, physically." Alice said, touching leaves as she walked by them as if they were her children's hands. "But she's always there mentally. Though now that i think of it, she's more vital, more animated in sunlight."

Keb wrote furiously as she spoke, and cursed as his pen raked dry across the notepad.

"Aw crap!" He spat. "I hate pens that don't work!"

"Careful with throwing that word around." Alice chastised. "Don't waste such potent energy on something so trivial. There are a great many things one may disdain, but hatred? Well, that's a self-applied pollution that befouls the entire body."

"Shakespeare?"

"HA! Alicespeare." Alice giggled. "But thank you. Maybe I should write a play."

"What would you write about?" Keb asked, genuinely interested.

"Hmmm..." She thought. "I think I'd write about finding yourself, about each person following their true path, whatever that is. and computers."

"Computers?"

"I love computers. What can I say, deep down I'm a geek." Alice shrugged acceptance.

"Really? That's neat." Keb complimented.

"Why, 'cause I'm a girl?"

"No, because your passion seems to be in art and music. Loving tech is an entirely different animal."

"Yeah, I'm a bit hippy, and a bit metal too." Alice admitted thoughtfully, somewhat pleased with her self-definition.

As they walked Keb began to notice small movements around Alice, though each time he trained his focus on the source he could see nothing that might have moved. He wondered if he was having sleep deprivation hallucinations; little sparks and flutters in his peripheral vision, though he felt fine. He was suddenly glad that Alice had taken point as he was able to survey her interaction with, and affect on the green, which would have been otherwise impossible had he been in front.

The more he watched and focused on her movements and the contour of her surroundings, he began to see what had triggered his motion sense; micro movements of the plant life around her. At first he thought it was tactile, that Alice had touched the branch or frond to cause it to move, but he never saw the actual contact. Just ahead Keb spied a tall thick tuft of saw grass which was bordering their path. Alice would have to walk right past it, he thought. Keb trained his sight on the grassy mass and as Alice glided past, he saw the movement; saw each frond move slightly toward her and follow her as she made her way past it. He again cursed himself, a long habit of his, for his lack of foresight.

"I'm so fucking stupid. I should've brought a high-speed camera. We could see these motor responses in great detail in super slomo."

"Motor responses?" Alice asked over her left shoulder.

"The plants are moving with you as you walk past." Keb replied. "I wasn't sure at first; thought it might be the wind or you touching them, or me seeing things, but now I'm certain."

"I was wondering when you would notice." Alice smiled, as she raised her arms out to her sides and gracefully spun in a pirouette.

"Truthfully, I think I've seen enough to warrant the next phase."

Alice stopped, and frowning, turned to face her walking companion.

"Already? Don't you want to see me 'talk to the trees?'" Alice made air quotes. "I thought that was the whole point."

"The point of this excursion was to find justification for a full investigation into your abilities, and I've already seen something I'd never thought possible; a plant interacting with a specific human being." Keb said, feeling somewhat numb at this first revelation of new science.

"I don't have any abilities, not really." Alice said matter of factly. "It's Gaia. She makes the plants move, not me."

"I disagree. Olsana told me about your meeting with Michaelson." Keb explained. "I didn't know what to think about it...until now. If you have the ability to communicate a need to Gaia, as Olsana indicated you did with the crow summoning, and she then addresses that need through some physical manipulation of mass or energy, as in providing a conduit between yourself and the crow, then you're incorrect. You not only have abilities, but if you are the only one who has this bond with Gaia, you may be the single most potent person on the planet."

"Oh, pish." Alice said dismissively, waving her hand at him. Her nature would not allow her to fully accept what she knew deep down in her heart to be true, that she was a Goddess, or at the very least, an Angel.

"I'm not exaggerating even a bit." Keb said. "Frankly, I may actually be in some subtle form of shock, because this is some mind blowing shit, and my mind is a blank. This is all new."

"Well, it's not new to me," Alice smiled warmly, "...And certainly not to Ga. Besides, we haven't even had lunch. Olsa said not to come back until the sandwiches were eaten."

"True enough. However, all food gets eaten, regardless." Keb dead-panned. "She didn't say we had to be the ones that ate it."

"I don't think she was referring to ants or bacteria. We are finding a place to sit and eat, mister." Alice commanded, hands on her hips. "I'm not driving back with you until you eat and don't have that look on your face like someone's poking you with needles."

"Do I really look like that?"

"HOT needles."

"Well, at least they're sterile." Keb attempted a weak smile, and though his feelings were a bit hurt, he didn't disagree a bit.

"C'mon." Alice said, no longer willing to waste energy negotiating. "Follow me."

She didn't wait for a reply, and spinning on her heel, elbows out, made her way to a dry looking spot she had eyed minutes earlier; or maybe something told her to choose it. She wasn't sure.

Alice found the clearing that spoke to her, and knowing Keb had followed (without any indication, verbal or otherwise), she spun again and pointed to the ground at her immediate left.

"Here." Alice said with a maternal glare, which Keb didn't consider challenging for even a moment.

He immediately rustled through the supply bag and produced a red and white plaid tablecloth, which he draped across the general section of grass she had pointed to.

"How lovely, and so rustic." Alice said happily. "Olsa thinks of everything."

"Well, she didn't think of a ground cover large enough for the two of us to sit on." Keb said, scratching his chin. "This will, however, create a plane separating the food from the ants, so no complaints."

"She probably imagined us eating at a picnic table." Alice offered.

"We can do that if you like."

"Actually, I prefer the ground, if you don't mind." Alice returned, remembering all the times she had said that exact phrase in her life, in response to several different topics; transportation, sleeping arrangements, et al.

As a small child she often opted to sneak outside and sleep on the grass. This particular eccentricity especially enraged her mother, who was already a volatile that required little spark to ignite. Alice now, as an adult, sometimes had to resist the urge to lay out on the grass at night, simply because it wasn't safe for any young woman to be outside alone.

"Nope, don't mind a bit." Keb agreed.

Keb continued to root through the large canvas sack, finally producing paper plates, plastic flatware, napkins, plastic utility containers which held cold potato and slaw salads, and two sandwiches of unknown quantity. He handed the materials to a sitting Alice, who placed them carefully in their proper configuration.

Order was a high priority to Alice. She painstakingly manipulated any space she would be forced to inhabit for any length of time, whether it was the place setting at a diner or her own office and living space. Everything had it's place and usefulness, and if it didn't meet both criteria, it was gone.

Unsatisfied that he had found all that he would need at this lunching, Keb continued to scan the contents while lowering himself to sitting, and did not see the stick he would sit on. It was small enough to be missed, yet large enough and contoured to provide a nice goose.

"Careful." Alice said, seeing the unfolding milieu before her.

Keb looked quickly beneath him as he sat, and seeing the obstruction, attempted to catch himself by shifting his left leg. This however, did not produce the expected results. As he unknowingly planted his left foot on a still moist leaf, his leg skated out from under him and Keb flew backward and landed flat on his back, creating a moderate 'thud'.

"Oh my!" Alice exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

Keb laid still for a moment and stared at the sky, performing a brief internal inventory for physical damage.

"Yeah." He said, still staring skyward. "Least I didn't sit on that stick. Thank you for not laughing."

"I'm really sor..." Alice began to apologize, feeling somewhat responsible for Keb's immediate posture, but couldn't contain herself.

"HAHAHAHA..." Alice began laughing. "I'm sorry, but that was really funny...HAHAHA..."

"I didn't drop the bag." Keb said innocently, smiling stupidly to the sky. This made Alice laugh even harder.

Alice continued laughing, tears streaming down her face, while Keb propped himself to sitting. He watched her and saw that she laughed with her whole face, with joy and release. He didn't know it yet, but Keb would think back on this scene often in the years to come, concluding it to be the moment he fell in love with her.

When she finally gained some control, a difficult proposition when the giggles set in, she again apologized for what she considered an immature display, made worse because it was at someone else's expense.

"I read an interesting little piece that made a correlation between comedy and tragedy, stating essentially that all things are tragedy; Comedy is simply someone else's." Keb commented, while unwrapping a sandwich.

"If that's so, then all things are comedy too. Just depends on your perspective."

"Unless the tragedy is universal." Keb said, making a face at his untoward discovery of beets on his sandwich. "If it happens to all of us, who's left to laugh at it?"

Suddenly Alice's expression changed. Her sparkling golden rimmed green eyes averted to the ground and her brows furrowed, her smile becoming a grimace as she chewed on her lower lip. Keb noticed immediately.

"What's wrong? Did I say something?" He said, plucking blood red disks from his lunch, worried that he had caused her some issue.

"No. Well, yeah, you said many something's, but it's not you."

"Okay, I'm listening." Keb prodded, eyeing the red stains on his bread with disdain. "And wondering who puts beets on a sandwich?"

"I'm not ready to talk about this yet. I'm sorry." Alice said, wrapping her arms around her knees as she sat.

"Beets are okay." She forced a smile.

Keb didn't understand exactly what had happened but he was fairly certain that he had catalyzed it with his commentary on comedy and tragedy. Did she shut down at the memory of some personal trauma or is it more? He wondered.

"I'm here to listen. About the beet thing, I mean." Keb smiled.

He wanted to tell her that she could trust him, but stopped himself, knowing what flaccid commentary that would be to someone that didn't know him.

Anyone can offer trust, he thought, and they often do, yet fall far from grace when the event horizon is reached. A contract of trust is manifest in silence. It is anonymous and unheralded by nature, and it is rare. He could not ask for her trust, he might only earn it. And that he would do by silently honoring her.

0 notes