Happy Holidays, ngk_is_cool!
Dec. 29th, 2021 05:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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go_exchangeName: A Chariot over the clouds
Rating: General
Summary: After the events of the no-pocalypse, Madam Tracy and War find themselves in a new and different world. Their paths merge again one day when they find themselves in the same town.
Re-creating herself is interesting. This time, War is really looking forward to understanding the humans, seeing what really ticks their tocks, feeding off them. Depending on where she materialises, sometimes it’s easy to pull from their energy and grow to her full, powerful self; sometimes it takes longer. Taking anthropomorphic form is always the easiest part of her transformation. Sometimes the form seems random, but she really hasn’t had to do this too many times, so maybe there’s a pattern she’s not yet aware of. Learning about her new form and discovering her powers is always the most challenging part — when the reality of her true nature becomes apparent though, she can’t wait to get to work.
The last time though, her form had been destroyed by her work… her Ultimate work, the very reason she’d been created! She’d always thought the end of the world would be bigger, more grandiose — more fanfare and more boom. Setting off an nuclear bomb? Yes! At a military base in the middle of nowhere? If not for the company of other horsemen that had accompanied her, it promised to be really dull.
She’d never expected what had ended up happening. The actual fight had been a challenge of wits between her and the feistiest girl she had ever met. And she’d met a lot. They’d even had an audience.
But she hadn’t been able to draw the power she’d needed from them.
***
The weather today is comparatively mild to the previous seven days of rain and thunderstorms. Marjorie is finally able to get out to the tea shop. She’s almost run out of English breakfast, her choice of beverage before every séance. The black tea she drinks in the morning still almost fills her tea caddy, but buying more tea can’t hurt. If the past week is any indication, there are storms brewing on the horizon.
As she enters the only general store in West Romery, the bell dings. She’s now lived here nigh on ten years, but she still likes to greet everyone just as she did on her first day in town. The store is empty except for the proprietor, an old man named Albert who’s probably manned the till since he was very young. He greets Marjorie and offers her the now customary little package of English breakfast and black teas. He comments on the weather and jokes about how it had looked like they were under attack, then reminisces about old battles he had fought in. Little by little, Marjorie talks Albert down into conversation about nice things — the sound of the waves, hot cocoa, and pleasant company. She likes to defuse people — it’s something that comes naturally to her. By being able to read what people need to feel better, her séances have always been so successful that she doesn’t need to advertise. Her publicity is solely by word-of-mouth.
Albert starts gossiping about a new arrival to the village, a lady who has rented an old farmhouse not too far from Marjorie’s own. They’re probably about the same age, so why not go and say hello? Invite her to the fair, says Albert, see if she can help with the tents or is interested in setting up a stand herself.
Marjorie is excited! She’s always energised by meeting new people. It’s one of the things she misses most about London — the rush of having thousands of different people with little quirks and specifics from which she can pull to create the perfect ambiance.
It’s not at all like she’s scamming people — she actuallyis psychic on some level; she has seen Things™,she has done stuff that other mediums could only imagine. She doesn’t remember the specifics, but she knows she had a huge manifestation some years ago.
At her cottage, she puts away the tea and decides to bake a cheesecake with strawberry jam on top to greet her new neighbour. It’s become one of her specialties, and she’s perfected it here in her quiet retirement bungalow.
Shortly before sunset, Marjorie heads to the farmhouse Albert pointed out. It’s not far, just a little difficult to access once she gets there. The front yard is passable, but it looks a bit like a battlefield with holes dug to plant bushes in the near future. There’s also a line of upended fruit trees, no doubt ready to be planted in the back garden. A small rampart of sandbags stands ready to repair some of the outer buildings. Whoever just moved here must be tending the place; that’s a good sign.
While scanning the front door and facade, she hears a faint tune, a strange kind of flute. Although she doesn’t recognise the melody she can feel the talent and love behind the song; an aura of power. Marjorie knocks on the door and calls a chirpy “Yoohoo!”
***
The world had been a complete mess when she’d re-emerged, waking up as a human in the middle of an idyllic town. Her memories were foggy and she was initially confused, but slowly, they’d started coming back. She was able to begin filling in the blanks - like her name and some backstory.
For some reason, the town where she’d re-emerged seemed to repel her. She felt as if she’d already seen and done everything there, so she started thinking about going south.
As her true form regained its strength and merged with her human form, she started remembering what had happened at the American base. She decided she needed a break; She could let go for a little, just take some work here and there — her siblings had this under control. After all, one could never under-estimate human stupidity. In the long run, they’d do something she really couldn’t ignore and she’d be ready. In some moments, she’d begin feeling hungry and her true form would take over and she’d feel like the only food she really needed was to revel in the battle of human vs. human!
Her specialty had been human-on-human warfare. For the past 6000 years, she’d been shifting from one civilisation to another. A thousand years ago, village vs. village was considered top-scale destruction; now, while it was still damaging, it just didn’t attract the attention of her siblings’ work. It had become more difficult for humans to do the big, BIG scale stuff like before. Her field work had always been delightful, but now, reduced in scale, it was less fun.
People were more concerned about climate change, urban starvation, healthcare, and trying to create universal order, and all of this meant less action and more bureaucracy; more Famine’s forté.
She found herself walking south to West Romery. She’d eventually found her bike, a stunning red motorbike that would have taken her to the ends of the world. But right now, the only place she wanted to go was to the end of this big island she was on — she liked the feel of the wind in her hair, which was also red, with some touches of grey on her front locks.
But she still felt like something was missing.
It wasn’t until much later that she’d figured it out - while the wind blowing against her face made her ecstatic, it was her breath exhaled from her diaphragm and lungs that provided the opposing force that made her truly feel as if she were flying.
***
The flute sound stops and Marjorie hears some rustling noises from inside the house. She waits for footsteps but they never come. It’s as if everything inside has vanished, but she can still sense a presence. She knocks again, calling, ‘It’s just the neighbour with some pie as a housewarming gift! Dear, I just want to…”
Then the door opens and a tall, red-haired woman about her age or maybe older, or younger (her reading is off today), appears. She doesn’t seem angry, so Marjorie keeps talking. “Here, dear, I just wanted to welcome you. My name is Marjorie Potts and I am your closest neighbour. I’ve been living in this area for about 10 years, so if you need anything, you can just go to that bungalow over there and ask.” She points down the road to her house.
The woman looks at her a bit quizzically, but then smiles and opens the door to welcome her in. “My name is Ruby Cervené. I arrived but a week ago and haven’t yet been able to do the rounds in town. She points to the sofa which is just inside the house. “Let me bring out some tea and then we can share that pie. It looks delicious!”
Marjorie places the pie in the middle of the coffee table. A moment later, Ruby returns with some tea that definitely seems suited for the pie. “I want to invite you to the festival we’re organising. It will be a very good way to meet everyone, but just now I heard you playing the flute. Now I think I could find you a spot performing. Do you play the flute in public?
Ruby raises her eyebrows and replied, “Well, I’ve never performed intentionally in public, but I don’t see why not. Is there any money to be earned?
“Well, there might be some money, but not that much, enough to cover you another week, perhaps? We do have a small concert venue in town, and they do pay; you might be able to arrange an audition with them? Have you been playing for awhile? Your tone is so refined. I should know; I used to live in the city, you know.”
They continue this chit-chat for a while: Ruby tells her of old adventures that seem impossible, about travel for work and things she’s done in the field, about moving from place to place and that she’s not especially fond of people. Marjorie thinks she’s beginning to understand her new neighbour but wants to learn more, so she offers a nice card reading.
She tells Ruby about Madam Tracy, and how her persona has always been able to identify something about the auras of people, and how she’s been able to use this special power to offer comfort to those who feel oppressed, or need some interpretation of how to start over or be able to face their tribulations. It’s always been helpful, well, except for that one time when she’d actually made a connection with the afterlife, and the spirit of the dead had screamed to be left alone. This intrigues Ruby, and her aura starts glowing a red hue.
“Well, that experience is a good example, don’t you think? Humans tend to be problematic to ethereal beings. In my experience they should fight with each other and leave the supernatural alone.”
“Perhaps, but I think the method to resolve conflict should change, even though sometimes the rationale to fight is valid. There are a number of very honourable quests and causes, especially when they are to stop some kind of pressure or limitation on the other, or to prevent the restriction of freedom and other moral causes. In these, the purpose of fighting may be for good.”
“How about that tarot reading? I’m intrigued to see what you can read about me,” Ruby says with a grin.
Marjorie returns the smile and excuses herself to her study. When she returns, she assumes her Madam Tracy persona. She places the tarot cards in front of the other woman and asks her to draw three cards. Ruby hesitates for a moment, then chooses, placing them face-down on the table, next to the pie.
Madam Tracy flips the first one, stating, “This card represents your past and where you come from.” She feels she is now really reading Red.
It is the Tower card: a massive ziggurat in the center of the card is being struck by four bolts of lightning. With a background of blue skies and endless sand, it represents the first time humans started diverging from each other to be of different cultures and unable to communicate. The Tower of Babel.
“This usually means there are disruptions, some crises and changes in your past. The planet that rules this card is Mars. You’ve had an interesting life, yes, dear?
How fitting, War thinks. That’s not only my past, but my present.
The next card Tracy flips is the Magician: The man in the middle has a long cape and holds up a sceptre behind an altar. The sword looks incredibly accurate, and the rest of the symbols, the cup, the wand, and the pentacle, while not really part of her or her siblings’ domains, were giving rise to an interesting feeling like the one she’d had when she first arrived in West Romery.
“While we should always use our past as a reminder of where we’ve been, we must also explore the present. Yes, you can use this new chapter in your life to choose a new path, start a new way of living. The Air, or perhaps I could say the wind, is now an important element.”
Ruby finds meaning in these words on a whole different level. All the years she’s been on Earth have brought her to this time, to find out what she can do and, more important, how she can do it with her ethereal and human forms.
“The third card of a Tarot reading is usually the most feared, but I always say, it’s not about how bad that could be, but more like another part of your present, dear, just an exponential amount of possibilities.”
It is the Chariot card: a figure pulled by two horses riding swiftly over the clouds, with the night sky in the background. The powerful horses were racing, flying toward the horizon.
“Ooh, the Chariot!! Dear, I think you know what this means. Your energy allows you the option to be everywhere. But, you need to choose a direction, find a new way to continue on your chosen journey.”
This indeed makes Ruby think. She’s never had a Tarot reading, but the imagery of the cards and the aura of Madam Tracy is leading her to believe there is something real in what the other woman can see.
“How about you keep playing that flute song I interrupted earlier?”
***
The flute has become Ruby’s aid to understanding why the world works as it does. She’d found it by chance; the poor thing had been discarded in a pawn shop in one of the towns she’d visited. It was as if she’d been meant to find it; as if it was the culmination of her journey, but weirdly, after she’d bought it (it had cost next to nothing so she’d paid with human coin) she’d felt invigorated to continue. The flute vibrated in her hands. Just outside the shop, she’d put it to her mouth. The world seemed to fade; she closed her eyes and opened her ethereal ones. She could see the true essence of the world with the flute, an understanding of the human realm that she’d never had.
With the flute she could see exactly where the ley lines that had always been present intersected. She could feel the auras of certain people in different places in the world and sometimes glimpses of places she’d been in other forms. She could be there or not, she could relax with the simple sound of the flute or she could rise above it all.
Since being here, she had learned that, depending on the songs she played, she could feel specific things — like danger, or fun, or that certain towns had immortal beings living among the humans. Here, in general, the souls were what one would expect from a town in the south of England, but also, some auras hinted this place was quite different. There were things buried deep that were just waiting for explorers to grow into adulthood to discover them.
And here also was this medium, which War now recognised through her aura as the one that had been at the American base. She had hated all of them then for ruining her work, but now she felt differently. She might have disappeared from the minds of humanity because of that girl accompanying Adam, but now she’d reappeared with a new purpose.
Things had changed for her as well. She was starting to like the little things humans did that made changes in the world - like when a butterfly flaps its wings and suddenly there’s a tropical storm in the Amazon. Madam Tracy, however, was a rock in this new world, a fixed point, and Ruby found out later that she’d remain that way for a long time.
***
“So, how about the festival — will you put your name on the list?” asked Madam Tracy, sensing acceptance in War’s face.
Ruby assents with a bit of curiosity and warns her that she’s not used to being surrounded by so many people. “As long as you mingle first and then talk to people, you’ll be fine. I find that this town is quite accepting, they are really welcoming.”
***
The day finally arrives, and while they have their choice of two functional transport methods, they take Tracy’s scooter. Tracy feels that coming into town quietly will give a better first impression. While War accepts that with a bit of doubt, she has started to like keeping a low profile in her retirement. The ride to the town’s plaza is slow, but fun. Tracy tells her all about the mundane things that are part of the festival and how they came about.
“Ernest bought a sheep back in ‘75, I think, and every year it would give enough wool to make only one jumper, so he started a tradition that at the end of every year he’d make a new jumper for someone in town. But one year Ernest had a financial problem and all the town helped him get on his feet again, so instead of giving the jumper away they had a raffle to see who would get the jumper. The raffle eventually turned into a contest, so now if you go and play in the main square and win, you get to keep the jumper.”
The festival is a nice change of pace for War. She’s beginning to recognise the freedom her new form brings. Adam Young had said humans should be left alone, but with all the opportunities for people-watching, it’s interesting to see just what they are about: there are adults, kids, young and old people, lovers, haters, fast and slow people. But at their core, humans are all the same — they long for stories that will unite them. They had spread and grown in numbers so much that their stories had diverged, but they know they live only a finite number of years and they need to seize every moment.
And if Red is being honest, she likes that. The past few years have really helped her understand the way people see their own lives. It will be good to have a medium as a friend. They can have conversations about things that normal humans would not notice, and Madam Tracy can always explain actions or reactions, to simplify the way humans tend to complicate things.
Madam Tracy will help her understand humans — why people want to talk things over instead of taking direct action, why it is usually more accepted to think about the consequences before speaking one’s mind. Ruby can also explain why action is sometimes better than words. They’ll have good conversations. And they’ll enjoy the culmination of 6000 years of things humans have created, like festivals, television, different flavours, culture, and cheesecake with strawberry topping.
And Ruby realises that no matter how complicated things may seem, she can always return to the place where she finds meaning, where she can fly above it all, where she’s found peace — her songs and her flute.
Rating: General
Summary: After the events of the no-pocalypse, Madam Tracy and War find themselves in a new and different world. Their paths merge again one day when they find themselves in the same town.
Re-creating herself is interesting. This time, War is really looking forward to understanding the humans, seeing what really ticks their tocks, feeding off them. Depending on where she materialises, sometimes it’s easy to pull from their energy and grow to her full, powerful self; sometimes it takes longer. Taking anthropomorphic form is always the easiest part of her transformation. Sometimes the form seems random, but she really hasn’t had to do this too many times, so maybe there’s a pattern she’s not yet aware of. Learning about her new form and discovering her powers is always the most challenging part — when the reality of her true nature becomes apparent though, she can’t wait to get to work.
The last time though, her form had been destroyed by her work… her Ultimate work, the very reason she’d been created! She’d always thought the end of the world would be bigger, more grandiose — more fanfare and more boom. Setting off an nuclear bomb? Yes! At a military base in the middle of nowhere? If not for the company of other horsemen that had accompanied her, it promised to be really dull.
She’d never expected what had ended up happening. The actual fight had been a challenge of wits between her and the feistiest girl she had ever met. And she’d met a lot. They’d even had an audience.
But she hadn’t been able to draw the power she’d needed from them.
***
The weather today is comparatively mild to the previous seven days of rain and thunderstorms. Marjorie is finally able to get out to the tea shop. She’s almost run out of English breakfast, her choice of beverage before every séance. The black tea she drinks in the morning still almost fills her tea caddy, but buying more tea can’t hurt. If the past week is any indication, there are storms brewing on the horizon.
As she enters the only general store in West Romery, the bell dings. She’s now lived here nigh on ten years, but she still likes to greet everyone just as she did on her first day in town. The store is empty except for the proprietor, an old man named Albert who’s probably manned the till since he was very young. He greets Marjorie and offers her the now customary little package of English breakfast and black teas. He comments on the weather and jokes about how it had looked like they were under attack, then reminisces about old battles he had fought in. Little by little, Marjorie talks Albert down into conversation about nice things — the sound of the waves, hot cocoa, and pleasant company. She likes to defuse people — it’s something that comes naturally to her. By being able to read what people need to feel better, her séances have always been so successful that she doesn’t need to advertise. Her publicity is solely by word-of-mouth.
Albert starts gossiping about a new arrival to the village, a lady who has rented an old farmhouse not too far from Marjorie’s own. They’re probably about the same age, so why not go and say hello? Invite her to the fair, says Albert, see if she can help with the tents or is interested in setting up a stand herself.
Marjorie is excited! She’s always energised by meeting new people. It’s one of the things she misses most about London — the rush of having thousands of different people with little quirks and specifics from which she can pull to create the perfect ambiance.
It’s not at all like she’s scamming people — she actuallyis psychic on some level; she has seen Things™,she has done stuff that other mediums could only imagine. She doesn’t remember the specifics, but she knows she had a huge manifestation some years ago.
At her cottage, she puts away the tea and decides to bake a cheesecake with strawberry jam on top to greet her new neighbour. It’s become one of her specialties, and she’s perfected it here in her quiet retirement bungalow.
Shortly before sunset, Marjorie heads to the farmhouse Albert pointed out. It’s not far, just a little difficult to access once she gets there. The front yard is passable, but it looks a bit like a battlefield with holes dug to plant bushes in the near future. There’s also a line of upended fruit trees, no doubt ready to be planted in the back garden. A small rampart of sandbags stands ready to repair some of the outer buildings. Whoever just moved here must be tending the place; that’s a good sign.
While scanning the front door and facade, she hears a faint tune, a strange kind of flute. Although she doesn’t recognise the melody she can feel the talent and love behind the song; an aura of power. Marjorie knocks on the door and calls a chirpy “Yoohoo!”
***
The world had been a complete mess when she’d re-emerged, waking up as a human in the middle of an idyllic town. Her memories were foggy and she was initially confused, but slowly, they’d started coming back. She was able to begin filling in the blanks - like her name and some backstory.
For some reason, the town where she’d re-emerged seemed to repel her. She felt as if she’d already seen and done everything there, so she started thinking about going south.
As her true form regained its strength and merged with her human form, she started remembering what had happened at the American base. She decided she needed a break; She could let go for a little, just take some work here and there — her siblings had this under control. After all, one could never under-estimate human stupidity. In the long run, they’d do something she really couldn’t ignore and she’d be ready. In some moments, she’d begin feeling hungry and her true form would take over and she’d feel like the only food she really needed was to revel in the battle of human vs. human!
Her specialty had been human-on-human warfare. For the past 6000 years, she’d been shifting from one civilisation to another. A thousand years ago, village vs. village was considered top-scale destruction; now, while it was still damaging, it just didn’t attract the attention of her siblings’ work. It had become more difficult for humans to do the big, BIG scale stuff like before. Her field work had always been delightful, but now, reduced in scale, it was less fun.
People were more concerned about climate change, urban starvation, healthcare, and trying to create universal order, and all of this meant less action and more bureaucracy; more Famine’s forté.
She found herself walking south to West Romery. She’d eventually found her bike, a stunning red motorbike that would have taken her to the ends of the world. But right now, the only place she wanted to go was to the end of this big island she was on — she liked the feel of the wind in her hair, which was also red, with some touches of grey on her front locks.
But she still felt like something was missing.
It wasn’t until much later that she’d figured it out - while the wind blowing against her face made her ecstatic, it was her breath exhaled from her diaphragm and lungs that provided the opposing force that made her truly feel as if she were flying.
***
The flute sound stops and Marjorie hears some rustling noises from inside the house. She waits for footsteps but they never come. It’s as if everything inside has vanished, but she can still sense a presence. She knocks again, calling, ‘It’s just the neighbour with some pie as a housewarming gift! Dear, I just want to…”
Then the door opens and a tall, red-haired woman about her age or maybe older, or younger (her reading is off today), appears. She doesn’t seem angry, so Marjorie keeps talking. “Here, dear, I just wanted to welcome you. My name is Marjorie Potts and I am your closest neighbour. I’ve been living in this area for about 10 years, so if you need anything, you can just go to that bungalow over there and ask.” She points down the road to her house.
The woman looks at her a bit quizzically, but then smiles and opens the door to welcome her in. “My name is Ruby Cervené. I arrived but a week ago and haven’t yet been able to do the rounds in town. She points to the sofa which is just inside the house. “Let me bring out some tea and then we can share that pie. It looks delicious!”
Marjorie places the pie in the middle of the coffee table. A moment later, Ruby returns with some tea that definitely seems suited for the pie. “I want to invite you to the festival we’re organising. It will be a very good way to meet everyone, but just now I heard you playing the flute. Now I think I could find you a spot performing. Do you play the flute in public?
Ruby raises her eyebrows and replied, “Well, I’ve never performed intentionally in public, but I don’t see why not. Is there any money to be earned?
“Well, there might be some money, but not that much, enough to cover you another week, perhaps? We do have a small concert venue in town, and they do pay; you might be able to arrange an audition with them? Have you been playing for awhile? Your tone is so refined. I should know; I used to live in the city, you know.”
They continue this chit-chat for a while: Ruby tells her of old adventures that seem impossible, about travel for work and things she’s done in the field, about moving from place to place and that she’s not especially fond of people. Marjorie thinks she’s beginning to understand her new neighbour but wants to learn more, so she offers a nice card reading.
She tells Ruby about Madam Tracy, and how her persona has always been able to identify something about the auras of people, and how she’s been able to use this special power to offer comfort to those who feel oppressed, or need some interpretation of how to start over or be able to face their tribulations. It’s always been helpful, well, except for that one time when she’d actually made a connection with the afterlife, and the spirit of the dead had screamed to be left alone. This intrigues Ruby, and her aura starts glowing a red hue.
“Well, that experience is a good example, don’t you think? Humans tend to be problematic to ethereal beings. In my experience they should fight with each other and leave the supernatural alone.”
“Perhaps, but I think the method to resolve conflict should change, even though sometimes the rationale to fight is valid. There are a number of very honourable quests and causes, especially when they are to stop some kind of pressure or limitation on the other, or to prevent the restriction of freedom and other moral causes. In these, the purpose of fighting may be for good.”
“How about that tarot reading? I’m intrigued to see what you can read about me,” Ruby says with a grin.
Marjorie returns the smile and excuses herself to her study. When she returns, she assumes her Madam Tracy persona. She places the tarot cards in front of the other woman and asks her to draw three cards. Ruby hesitates for a moment, then chooses, placing them face-down on the table, next to the pie.
Madam Tracy flips the first one, stating, “This card represents your past and where you come from.” She feels she is now really reading Red.
It is the Tower card: a massive ziggurat in the center of the card is being struck by four bolts of lightning. With a background of blue skies and endless sand, it represents the first time humans started diverging from each other to be of different cultures and unable to communicate. The Tower of Babel.
“This usually means there are disruptions, some crises and changes in your past. The planet that rules this card is Mars. You’ve had an interesting life, yes, dear?
How fitting, War thinks. That’s not only my past, but my present.
The next card Tracy flips is the Magician: The man in the middle has a long cape and holds up a sceptre behind an altar. The sword looks incredibly accurate, and the rest of the symbols, the cup, the wand, and the pentacle, while not really part of her or her siblings’ domains, were giving rise to an interesting feeling like the one she’d had when she first arrived in West Romery.
“While we should always use our past as a reminder of where we’ve been, we must also explore the present. Yes, you can use this new chapter in your life to choose a new path, start a new way of living. The Air, or perhaps I could say the wind, is now an important element.”
Ruby finds meaning in these words on a whole different level. All the years she’s been on Earth have brought her to this time, to find out what she can do and, more important, how she can do it with her ethereal and human forms.
“The third card of a Tarot reading is usually the most feared, but I always say, it’s not about how bad that could be, but more like another part of your present, dear, just an exponential amount of possibilities.”
It is the Chariot card: a figure pulled by two horses riding swiftly over the clouds, with the night sky in the background. The powerful horses were racing, flying toward the horizon.
“Ooh, the Chariot!! Dear, I think you know what this means. Your energy allows you the option to be everywhere. But, you need to choose a direction, find a new way to continue on your chosen journey.”
This indeed makes Ruby think. She’s never had a Tarot reading, but the imagery of the cards and the aura of Madam Tracy is leading her to believe there is something real in what the other woman can see.
“How about you keep playing that flute song I interrupted earlier?”
***
The flute has become Ruby’s aid to understanding why the world works as it does. She’d found it by chance; the poor thing had been discarded in a pawn shop in one of the towns she’d visited. It was as if she’d been meant to find it; as if it was the culmination of her journey, but weirdly, after she’d bought it (it had cost next to nothing so she’d paid with human coin) she’d felt invigorated to continue. The flute vibrated in her hands. Just outside the shop, she’d put it to her mouth. The world seemed to fade; she closed her eyes and opened her ethereal ones. She could see the true essence of the world with the flute, an understanding of the human realm that she’d never had.
With the flute she could see exactly where the ley lines that had always been present intersected. She could feel the auras of certain people in different places in the world and sometimes glimpses of places she’d been in other forms. She could be there or not, she could relax with the simple sound of the flute or she could rise above it all.
Since being here, she had learned that, depending on the songs she played, she could feel specific things — like danger, or fun, or that certain towns had immortal beings living among the humans. Here, in general, the souls were what one would expect from a town in the south of England, but also, some auras hinted this place was quite different. There were things buried deep that were just waiting for explorers to grow into adulthood to discover them.
And here also was this medium, which War now recognised through her aura as the one that had been at the American base. She had hated all of them then for ruining her work, but now she felt differently. She might have disappeared from the minds of humanity because of that girl accompanying Adam, but now she’d reappeared with a new purpose.
Things had changed for her as well. She was starting to like the little things humans did that made changes in the world - like when a butterfly flaps its wings and suddenly there’s a tropical storm in the Amazon. Madam Tracy, however, was a rock in this new world, a fixed point, and Ruby found out later that she’d remain that way for a long time.
***
“So, how about the festival — will you put your name on the list?” asked Madam Tracy, sensing acceptance in War’s face.
Ruby assents with a bit of curiosity and warns her that she’s not used to being surrounded by so many people. “As long as you mingle first and then talk to people, you’ll be fine. I find that this town is quite accepting, they are really welcoming.”
***
The day finally arrives, and while they have their choice of two functional transport methods, they take Tracy’s scooter. Tracy feels that coming into town quietly will give a better first impression. While War accepts that with a bit of doubt, she has started to like keeping a low profile in her retirement. The ride to the town’s plaza is slow, but fun. Tracy tells her all about the mundane things that are part of the festival and how they came about.
“Ernest bought a sheep back in ‘75, I think, and every year it would give enough wool to make only one jumper, so he started a tradition that at the end of every year he’d make a new jumper for someone in town. But one year Ernest had a financial problem and all the town helped him get on his feet again, so instead of giving the jumper away they had a raffle to see who would get the jumper. The raffle eventually turned into a contest, so now if you go and play in the main square and win, you get to keep the jumper.”
The festival is a nice change of pace for War. She’s beginning to recognise the freedom her new form brings. Adam Young had said humans should be left alone, but with all the opportunities for people-watching, it’s interesting to see just what they are about: there are adults, kids, young and old people, lovers, haters, fast and slow people. But at their core, humans are all the same — they long for stories that will unite them. They had spread and grown in numbers so much that their stories had diverged, but they know they live only a finite number of years and they need to seize every moment.
And if Red is being honest, she likes that. The past few years have really helped her understand the way people see their own lives. It will be good to have a medium as a friend. They can have conversations about things that normal humans would not notice, and Madam Tracy can always explain actions or reactions, to simplify the way humans tend to complicate things.
Madam Tracy will help her understand humans — why people want to talk things over instead of taking direct action, why it is usually more accepted to think about the consequences before speaking one’s mind. Ruby can also explain why action is sometimes better than words. They’ll have good conversations. And they’ll enjoy the culmination of 6000 years of things humans have created, like festivals, television, different flavours, culture, and cheesecake with strawberry topping.
And Ruby realises that no matter how complicated things may seem, she can always return to the place where she finds meaning, where she can fly above it all, where she’s found peace — her songs and her flute.
Thank you!!
Date: 2021-12-31 10:15 am (UTC)"She decided she needed a break" - she does deserve one, poor creature that she is.
"she liked the feel of the wind in her hair" - my favorite feeling as well!
War playing the flute is my new head cannon, and it's great that she already found a place to perform, in a small and supportive community.
The story about Ernest and the jumper warmed my heart, loved that small detail of world building. Probably one of those ridiculous jumpers that are sore to the eye, but for the locals it's a sign of helping a friend in need.
The Tarot reading was interesting, I'm glad to see Marjorie still uses her knowledge to help others to understand themselves, and that she manages to use her past for good use.
Thanks again for a lovely gift, the best way to start a new year :)
(no subject)
Date: 2022-01-16 03:27 am (UTC)“It wasn’t until much later that she’d figured it out - while the wind blowing against her face made her ecstatic, it was her breath exhaled from her diaphragm and lungs that provided the opposing force that made her truly feel as if she were flying.” Oooooh this is such a good sentence
Such an interesting tarot reading!
“There were things buried deep that were just waiting for explorers to grow into adulthood to discover them.” <3
“And they’ll enjoy the culmination of 6000 years of things humans have created, like festivals, television, different flavours, culture, and cheesecake with strawberry topping.” <3
“And Ruby realises that no matter how complicated things may seem, she can always return to the place where she finds meaning, where she can fly above it all, where she’s found peace — her songs and her flute.” <3<3<3
I was not expecting a story about War to be so UPLIFTING, but my goodness! This was so cool, and really lovely :)