Walt ran in, barking, scattering birds where he went. Eostre had gone for a walk to clear her head, left Tom with the girls and just gone walking. She'd have put on shoes if she'd known that Walt was going to bring her down here. Her hair was pulled back in a careless knot, her flowered skirts blowing around her legs.
"Oh, you bloody animal," she said, and then she looked up and stopped. Dead, in her tracks. It had been a very, very long time.
Czernobog turned, hearing the sound of a familiar voice. It sounded distant though, not in terms of location but in recognition. The woman resembled the Lady of the Dawn, but there were changes. Czernobog remained suspicious.
"Show me your wrist," He declared firmly, standing still and keeping an eye on the surrounding birds.
"Why is life never easy?" snapped Eostre, and holding up her left hand. She knew what he was looking for; the band of forget-me-nots had faded, over the years, ut they were still true against tan skin.
"I'm just making sure!" Czernobog snapped back, resorting to anger to express his confusion. He saw the tattoo and trudged back a few hesitant steps.
"Of course I'm not happy!" He looked around and scratched an itch on the top of his head. If this had been a comedy, it'd look like he was thinking. "And never call names. It makes you rude." He scolded her casually. He saw many birds around him and felt the weather. It was much different than Chicago.
The last thing she needed today was this. The last thing she needed today was this, and her bloody son's bloody dog was sniffing the old Slav's carpet slippers.
"Get this mutt away!" Czernobog resisted kicking the small chewing dog. He still didn't really know what the word mutt meant, but he had heard people say it, so he thought it was ok. "You're to tell me now, what I am doing here and where I am." Czernobog pointed forcefully at Easter. He demanded answers.
"You demand answers of me like I'm not older than you and your bloody sisters," she snapped, and then she clicked her fingers for Walt.
"Come here, Walt. Now." She took a deep, calming breath. "You're on an island, a magic island, and you are not as you once were. Now, can we please get away from the stink of bird shit before you ask any more questions?"
He smiled at her, a broad old man grin. This is how things went with Czernobog: now that Easter had snapped at him, powerful with her tone, he smiled. He would treat her as an equal even though she was older than him and his sisters. She proved herself.
"Where should we go on this magic island, as you say?" He had the sarcasm of an oldertimer thinking he was wittier than he was. "I follow you."
Every time they had to go through this. Every time, she had to prove herself, and, every time, he still carried on treating her like a fifteen year old child. She rolled her eyes, eyes the exact green of ripening corn.
"We can go to my kitchen. I need to check in on my girls anyway."
Without really listening to her words, Czernobog started off to follow Eostre. As he followed, he carefully kept an eye out to where he was stepping and when. The birds here, wherever he was, seemed aggressive. They may have just been friendly, but to Czernobog they were aggressive.
He then put the words back into his mind. He looked up, confused. "Your girls? You mean children?" He smiled. "Human, coming out of you children?" He neglected to get vulgar.
"I mean pushed out from between my legs into the wide world children," she said, glancing over her shoulder. "And yes, they're human, and yes, they're mine."
There was a snort that sounded like an old horse. Czernobog offered her a glare.
"You've changed then?" He asked, curious about the place around them. It was definitely a strange place. "Tell me. Is Wednesday doing this?" In the Old World, strange things happened but people like Easter and Czernobog were in charge of then. He was not in charge of this.
Wednesday must be to blame. The thought of seeing that bastard again made his blood boil and his hands clench into fists.
"I see a bitch," He told her with a wry smile. He stepped forward and placed his eyes on her. He took in the changes of her hair and her skin. There were differences in the woman that made Czernobog alarmed. She didn't seem miserable though, so that was slightly refreshing.
"You're a real person, I see." He took her in. "You have lines on your face, not like my lines; wrinkles, but lines of smiles." He coughed. His chest throbbed and he felt like he wanted a cigarette. "You wouldn't be able to tell now, but you smile a lot here, I feel."
In his mind, he nodded at this and felt suddenly more at ease. Eostre had been a strong woman and if she could adjust, it was possible. The weather was warm and seemed to calm his chest. After having one good cough, a deep and thick cough that rang of an old man, he didn't feel another coming on.
"I feel better already. My chest feels good," He paused and let his mouth curl into a half-smile. "Or maybe I just believe you and your words too much." He winked. "I'm glad you smile a lot. You deserve it after gaining all that weight in San Francisco?" He laughed. "Votan told me you had put on some."
"Oh, you bloody animal," she said, and then she looked up and stopped. Dead, in her tracks.
It had been a very, very long time.
"Oh, for the love of everything."
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"Show me your wrist," He declared firmly, standing still and keeping an eye on the surrounding birds.
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"Are you happy now, you old coot?"
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"Of course I'm not happy!" He looked around and scratched an itch on the top of his head. If this had been a comedy, it'd look like he was thinking. "And never call names. It makes you rude." He scolded her casually. He saw many birds around him and felt the weather. It was much different than Chicago.
"Where the fuck am I?"
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Bloody hell.
"You're not going to like this," she warned.
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"Come here, Walt. Now." She took a deep, calming breath. "You're on an island, a magic island, and you are not as you once were. Now, can we please get away from the stink of bird shit before you ask any more questions?"
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"Where should we go on this magic island, as you say?" He had the sarcasm of an oldertimer thinking he was wittier than he was. "I follow you."
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"We can go to my kitchen. I need to check in on my girls anyway."
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He then put the words back into his mind. He looked up, confused. "Your girls? You mean children?" He smiled. "Human, coming out of you children?" He neglected to get vulgar.
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"You've changed then?" He asked, curious about the place around them. It was definitely a strange place. "Tell me. Is Wednesday doing this?" In the Old World, strange things happened but people like Easter and Czernobog were in charge of then. He was not in charge of this.
Wednesday must be to blame. The thought of seeing that bastard again made his blood boil and his hands clench into fists.
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"Look at me, Old Man. Really look at me, and then ask me that again."
She tilted her head.
"Look at me and tell me what you see."
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"You're a real person, I see." He took her in. "You have lines on your face, not like my lines; wrinkles, but lines of smiles." He coughed. His chest throbbed and he felt like he wanted a cigarette. "You wouldn't be able to tell now, but you smile a lot here, I feel."
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"I'm a real person here, Czernobog. And so are you. As we all are. No gods and angel s for Tabula Rasa."
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"I feel better already. My chest feels good," He paused and let his mouth curl into a half-smile. "Or maybe I just believe you and your words too much." He winked. "I'm glad you smile a lot. You deserve it after gaining all that weight in San Francisco?" He laughed. "Votan told me you had put on some."
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