(Untitled)

[not_broomboy]

Elphaba lives.
Kumbricia stirs the pot, and licks the ladle,
He's not sure what that means. He's not sure what it means to him.
Sets the table, pours a glass of tears
He's not sure if it means he's free to be himself or not. That question brings up the bigger question, if he even is a self, if he has any existance outside of Elphaba's shadow,

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[creator_raven]

There is a Raven watching him, head tilted.

Then he stands, abruptly, and moves closer.

There is a cookie sitting in front of Liir.

"You are fond of cookies, perhaps?"

[not_broomboy]

He takes a cookie.

He puts it in his mouth and nibbles it.

It's a good cookie.

He has nothing to say.

[creator_raven]

Raven tilts his head, blinking.

"Is it the vocal cords that do not work, perhaps?"

He frowns.

"Or is it the chewing?"

[not_broomboy]

"A bit of chewing and something of confusion."

Elphaba's voice rings in his ears, reminding him of his tendency to stand about and do nothing when surprised and that spurs him on to speaking.

"Why are you handing out cookies?"

[creator_raven]

"I am fond of them, perhaps."

Raven wrinkles his nose.

"Not all things are reasonable, I do not think. So."

[not_broomboy]

"Most things aren't."

He takes another bite of the cookie before tilting his head. This man reminds him of something, some hint of something in how he moves or how he talks.

It reminds him of an animal, or rather of an Animal. It reminds him of the Convention of Birds, but most of the Princess of the Swans that he'd attended on her deathbed. A certain obtuse dignity.

"I'm Liir."

Raven is the first person Liir has offered his name to, perhaps because Raven is the first one he feels mildly comfortable around. Birds he was used to, and even if this one turned out to have nothing to do with Birds, it was his perception that mattered, not the truth. Or rather his truth over the universal Truth.

[creator_raven]

Raven nods, once.

"They call me Raven. It is descriptive, I think."

[not_broomboy]

"A Bird?"

He'd met an Elephant who'd disguised herself as an old woman during the Wizard's reign. It would not surprise him to find a Bird disguised as such.

[creator_raven]

"After a fashion, yes. I do not remember which came first, do you see?"

This probably doesn't really matter, either. Some things stick, regardless.

[not_broomboy]

"A Bird who's also a Man? Are you a Wizard as well, out to round out the set?"

Just a little sarcastic.

[creator_raven]

"No. That would be useless, perhaps."

He blinks.

"You would prefer my full list of titles? It is not so very long."

[not_broomboy]

He leans back, sits back, waits.

He's curious. Titles always told so much.

"If you'd like."

[creator_raven]

"They call me Raven, who sets things right. I create worlds. I set rules. Sometimes, I teach. Also I like bunny slippers. And cookies."

He shrugs, lightly.

[not_broomboy]

"Cookies are good. Haven't tried the slippers yet. No time, really."

[creator_raven]

Raven looks vaguely horrified.

"If things were merely a question of time, perhaps, nothing would get done. It is tricky, yes?"

[not_broomboy]

"Occasionally. Sometimes it's painfully simple."

He doesn't understand the present, and he's never seen the future, or even a future. Perhaps that was why he was a wanderer in so many ways, always pursueing but never finding. But he does know the past. Maybe that's why he's always too late, always a step behind Nor and the Emperor and Trism and Candle.