Chapter the Sixth: The Park Bench
This was originally going to be one big long chapter, but I wound up breaking it down for the sake of lyrics and iconage.
Hooray random exposition! And hopefully, Mary actually displays personality in this chapter. *SHOT*
Also:
Dartmoor pony
Squirrel
White hawk
Barn swallow
Guinea pig
Mongoose
Goldfinch
Ring tailed cat
Key deer fawn
Mouse
Domestic ferret
Stoat
Chapter the Sixth: The Park Bench
And we are never going home
This road is far too long to travel alone
And the moon will shine brightly on this road…
So, which way do you wanna go?
The world I know is a world too slow
Don’t move fast enough, keep your head low
The world I know is a world much too slow
If you can’t move fast enough, child
Better stay on the low, child…
~ Esthero, “Country Livin’”
On the weekends, Mary always became restless. There was entertainment in the house, yes, but only as far as books and movies and other stationary things went. She did enjoy video games, but she could only take so much of sitting still. This was why she knew the neighborhood and nearby shops so well; with Kieran gone to work and no friends her age in the area, she took to exploring. On these expeditions, she would always take her favorite purse, which always held a pen, scrap paper, and a little spending money, and because fall was arriving, she made sure to put on her coat, too. Since the weather was clear and there was nothing interesting to do at home, having an adventure sounded especially appealing.
Eliazar’s form of the day was a miniature dartmoor pony. His fuzzy coat was patched with russet and white, and his long mane and tail were pale in color. He tossed his head to flip his mane, and it looked so pretentious that Mary had to laugh.
“Race you to the trees,” he said, winking a large brown eye at her.
Mary gaped back at him. “Not fair, you’re a horse!” But he only laughed and took off, and she had no choice but to run after him.
A couple of blocks away, there was a small, quiet park on top of the hill. It wasn’t very impressive, to tell the truth, as it wasn’t horribly well kept. There was a swingset with two working swings and one broken one, as well as a slide that was more sturdy than it seemed and lonely looking monkey bars standing off to one side. The ground of the play area was covered unevenly with woodchips; the young children that were brought there by their parents had gathered the chips into little mounds for some game of imagination that they played together. It was a shabby looking park, some would say, but Mary just saw it as was well used and well loved.
The park also had an abundance of deciduous trees. They were just starting to turn their colors, so the leaves, which were bigger than Mary’s hand, began to lose their green, fading to yellow and ending in orange at the very tips. At the top of the hill, the side of the park opposite the monkey bars, there was a pond. There were two great old willow trees there on the edge of the pond, as well as a wooden bench with curling iron armrests, positioned just so. It was one of Mary’s favorite places in the whole world, because when she sat on that bench on top of the hill, in her child’s mind, she felt as though she could see for forever.
Not even halfway to the park, the race slowed as girl and dæmon tired and settled for walking side by side, but they still reached the park in good time. It wasn’t busy yet, since it was Sunday morning and many of the families in the neighborhood were still in church. Mary and Kieran lived in a neighborhood full of otherworldlies; it so happened that the families bonded together in that area because their faiths were similar. Mary and Kieran’s mother was an otherworldly, but their father wasn’t, and their mother didn’t practice any religion in particular, anyway, so the children weren’t raised to follow any faith. To be fair, they attended a few of the neighborhood services soon after moving into the area, but as it had never been a habit of theirs, they soon fell out of practice with it.
Eliazar changed forms suddenly, startling Mary from her thoughts as he leapt to her shoulder as a tufted ear squirrel. She peeked through the hanging curtain of willow leaves to see what made her Elia jump and was surprised to see a man sitting on her bench.
She wasn’t sure why she was so surprised, really, especially since he didn’t look all that strange. He had dark hair that fell in messy dreadlocks past his shoulders, and a long braid fell over where a red bandana tied there in the back. His clothes, from what Mary could tell, weren’t remarkable either, although she could only see that he wore a long brown coat. But there, around his shoulders, there was something odd… Though on first glance there seemed to be nothing there, something pulled Mary’s eyes to it. For some reason, that sensation felt familiar -- and then it clicked. She was suddenly struck with strong memories of her father and a white hawk on his shoulder, simultaneously there and not there --
Mary gasped quietly. That man had a dæmon!
Not a real one -- that was to say, not a corporeal dæmon, like Eliazar and Evangeline and Mary’s mother’s Asher. No, this was an incorporeal dæmon, which was what people who weren’t from her mother’s world had if they knew about dæmons and got to know their own. Everyone had a dæmon, her mother explained, but most people didn’t know it, and their dæmons were in their heads, instead of out where everyone could see them. But those who found their dæmon’s voice, and grew to know them, could make their dæmons manifest, kind of, but only other people who had dæmons, incorporeal or corporeal, could see them.
As it was, it was unusual for an otherworldly to encounter someone from their home world, but this, this especially was rare. There was no doubt in Mary’s mind that this was something directly tied to her mother. The thought didn’t occur to her that someone else from her mother’s world could have befriended this man and taught him this method; it just didn’t seem possible. Maybe it had something to do with the form of that dæmon because it was so close to her mother’s ferret. It had the same weasel shape, but the coloring was different; instead of a layering effect of dark brown on white, it was light brown from head until the end of the black tipped tail. Or, perhaps, and more likely, it had something to do with how familiar the man’s presence felt. Mary didn’t even realize at first that he was familiar, and when she did, she couldn’t put her finger on why.
This is weird, Eliazar whispered uncertainly in her head.
I trust him, Mary responded, feeling a little dumbfounded. I don’t know why, I really don’t, but I… trust him.
I don’t understand.
Neither do I.
In their confusion, Elia flicked through forms -- from squirrel to barn swallow to guinea pig to mongoose to gold finch to dragonlet to ring tailed cat. I don’t understand.
Why is he sitting on our bench? What is he doing here?
Why does he have a dæmon? What form is that?
Why is it so similar to Asher?
Who is he?
Elia, now a key deer fawn, pawed nervously at the ground, disturbing the leaves underfoot. The weasel dæmon leapt onto her human’s head at the noise and the man turned. Through the willow leaves, Mary caught glimpse of dark eyes in a handsome face before she darted behind the tree, Eliazar disappearing into her hair as a mouse.
Nothing happened. Aside from the rustle of the willow tree in the wind and the soft sounds of the pond water, there was silence. Mary closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. Elia creeped out from behind her neck and back to her shoulder, a guinea pig once more.
I don’t think he’s coming, he said. But he must have seen us.
Yeah… Mary opened her eyes. Makes sense, though. Prolly thinks we went away.
Prolly thinks we’re not gonna bother him.
Mary had nothing to say to that for a moment. … Are we?
What? Eliazar blinked. No, we’re not.
But he has a dæmon.
Yes, but --
A dæmon that looks like Mother’s but, like Father’s, isn’t really there.
Mary --
Don’t you wanna know?
Eliazar didn’t answer.
Mary took another deep breath and let it out slowly. She gathered her courage and Eliazar, to help give her strength, took his gold dragonlet form. Okay. Let’s do this. She stepped out from behind the tree and, quietly as she could, walked around the edge of the pond to the bench, the man, and his incorporeal dæmon.
Hooray random exposition! And hopefully, Mary actually displays personality in this chapter. *SHOT*
Also:
Dartmoor pony
Squirrel
White hawk
Barn swallow
Guinea pig
Mongoose
Goldfinch
Ring tailed cat
Key deer fawn
Mouse
Domestic ferret
Stoat
Chapter the Sixth: The Park Bench
And we are never going home
This road is far too long to travel alone
And the moon will shine brightly on this road…
So, which way do you wanna go?
The world I know is a world too slow
Don’t move fast enough, keep your head low
The world I know is a world much too slow
If you can’t move fast enough, child
Better stay on the low, child…
~ Esthero, “Country Livin’”
On the weekends, Mary always became restless. There was entertainment in the house, yes, but only as far as books and movies and other stationary things went. She did enjoy video games, but she could only take so much of sitting still. This was why she knew the neighborhood and nearby shops so well; with Kieran gone to work and no friends her age in the area, she took to exploring. On these expeditions, she would always take her favorite purse, which always held a pen, scrap paper, and a little spending money, and because fall was arriving, she made sure to put on her coat, too. Since the weather was clear and there was nothing interesting to do at home, having an adventure sounded especially appealing.
Eliazar’s form of the day was a miniature dartmoor pony. His fuzzy coat was patched with russet and white, and his long mane and tail were pale in color. He tossed his head to flip his mane, and it looked so pretentious that Mary had to laugh.
“Race you to the trees,” he said, winking a large brown eye at her.
Mary gaped back at him. “Not fair, you’re a horse!” But he only laughed and took off, and she had no choice but to run after him.
A couple of blocks away, there was a small, quiet park on top of the hill. It wasn’t very impressive, to tell the truth, as it wasn’t horribly well kept. There was a swingset with two working swings and one broken one, as well as a slide that was more sturdy than it seemed and lonely looking monkey bars standing off to one side. The ground of the play area was covered unevenly with woodchips; the young children that were brought there by their parents had gathered the chips into little mounds for some game of imagination that they played together. It was a shabby looking park, some would say, but Mary just saw it as was well used and well loved.
The park also had an abundance of deciduous trees. They were just starting to turn their colors, so the leaves, which were bigger than Mary’s hand, began to lose their green, fading to yellow and ending in orange at the very tips. At the top of the hill, the side of the park opposite the monkey bars, there was a pond. There were two great old willow trees there on the edge of the pond, as well as a wooden bench with curling iron armrests, positioned just so. It was one of Mary’s favorite places in the whole world, because when she sat on that bench on top of the hill, in her child’s mind, she felt as though she could see for forever.
Not even halfway to the park, the race slowed as girl and dæmon tired and settled for walking side by side, but they still reached the park in good time. It wasn’t busy yet, since it was Sunday morning and many of the families in the neighborhood were still in church. Mary and Kieran lived in a neighborhood full of otherworldlies; it so happened that the families bonded together in that area because their faiths were similar. Mary and Kieran’s mother was an otherworldly, but their father wasn’t, and their mother didn’t practice any religion in particular, anyway, so the children weren’t raised to follow any faith. To be fair, they attended a few of the neighborhood services soon after moving into the area, but as it had never been a habit of theirs, they soon fell out of practice with it.
Eliazar changed forms suddenly, startling Mary from her thoughts as he leapt to her shoulder as a tufted ear squirrel. She peeked through the hanging curtain of willow leaves to see what made her Elia jump and was surprised to see a man sitting on her bench.
She wasn’t sure why she was so surprised, really, especially since he didn’t look all that strange. He had dark hair that fell in messy dreadlocks past his shoulders, and a long braid fell over where a red bandana tied there in the back. His clothes, from what Mary could tell, weren’t remarkable either, although she could only see that he wore a long brown coat. But there, around his shoulders, there was something odd… Though on first glance there seemed to be nothing there, something pulled Mary’s eyes to it. For some reason, that sensation felt familiar -- and then it clicked. She was suddenly struck with strong memories of her father and a white hawk on his shoulder, simultaneously there and not there --
Mary gasped quietly. That man had a dæmon!
Not a real one -- that was to say, not a corporeal dæmon, like Eliazar and Evangeline and Mary’s mother’s Asher. No, this was an incorporeal dæmon, which was what people who weren’t from her mother’s world had if they knew about dæmons and got to know their own. Everyone had a dæmon, her mother explained, but most people didn’t know it, and their dæmons were in their heads, instead of out where everyone could see them. But those who found their dæmon’s voice, and grew to know them, could make their dæmons manifest, kind of, but only other people who had dæmons, incorporeal or corporeal, could see them.
As it was, it was unusual for an otherworldly to encounter someone from their home world, but this, this especially was rare. There was no doubt in Mary’s mind that this was something directly tied to her mother. The thought didn’t occur to her that someone else from her mother’s world could have befriended this man and taught him this method; it just didn’t seem possible. Maybe it had something to do with the form of that dæmon because it was so close to her mother’s ferret. It had the same weasel shape, but the coloring was different; instead of a layering effect of dark brown on white, it was light brown from head until the end of the black tipped tail. Or, perhaps, and more likely, it had something to do with how familiar the man’s presence felt. Mary didn’t even realize at first that he was familiar, and when she did, she couldn’t put her finger on why.
This is weird, Eliazar whispered uncertainly in her head.
I trust him, Mary responded, feeling a little dumbfounded. I don’t know why, I really don’t, but I… trust him.
I don’t understand.
Neither do I.
In their confusion, Elia flicked through forms -- from squirrel to barn swallow to guinea pig to mongoose to gold finch to dragonlet to ring tailed cat. I don’t understand.
Why is he sitting on our bench? What is he doing here?
Why does he have a dæmon? What form is that?
Why is it so similar to Asher?
Who is he?
Elia, now a key deer fawn, pawed nervously at the ground, disturbing the leaves underfoot. The weasel dæmon leapt onto her human’s head at the noise and the man turned. Through the willow leaves, Mary caught glimpse of dark eyes in a handsome face before she darted behind the tree, Eliazar disappearing into her hair as a mouse.
Nothing happened. Aside from the rustle of the willow tree in the wind and the soft sounds of the pond water, there was silence. Mary closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. Elia creeped out from behind her neck and back to her shoulder, a guinea pig once more.
I don’t think he’s coming, he said. But he must have seen us.
Yeah… Mary opened her eyes. Makes sense, though. Prolly thinks we went away.
Prolly thinks we’re not gonna bother him.
Mary had nothing to say to that for a moment. … Are we?
What? Eliazar blinked. No, we’re not.
But he has a dæmon.
Yes, but --
A dæmon that looks like Mother’s but, like Father’s, isn’t really there.
Mary --
Don’t you wanna know?
Eliazar didn’t answer.
Mary took another deep breath and let it out slowly. She gathered her courage and Eliazar, to help give her strength, took his gold dragonlet form. Okay. Let’s do this. She stepped out from behind the tree and, quietly as she could, walked around the edge of the pond to the bench, the man, and his incorporeal dæmon.