Wavering Wonder

Participants:

damianm_icon.gif seren_icon.gif

Scene Title Wavering Wonder
Synopsis Seren breaks off the party in search of a friend, only to find they may have gone away permanently.
Date April 4, 2020

Pushing the side doors open out onto the patio around the side of the building, Seren steps out into the evening chill. The trees framing Merlot Joe's property are merely budding with green and shouldn't provide enough cover for even the most determined of pixies to hide in, and yet with a sweep of their eyes, they cannot find the one they're in pursuit of.

"Larkspur?" they call out, voice clouding in the air. Seren turns left and right, stepping further out. Behind them trails Baird, tuxedo tomcat with raven wings folded primly along his back. He continues to walk on the ground, overall unenthused. Tired. It's been a long day.

"Lark, I'm sorry I got mean, but this is a nice place and we can't just go around rolling in icing and then smear it on people." Seren's voice strains, still raised as though shouting were necessary to be heard. Maybe that is how it works, after all. Baird pads to their side to sit with them, head swiveling one way, then the other, golden eyes gleaming in the dark save for a narrow band of pupil. He knows… what they don't.

What they're refusing to acknowledge, at this point.

They've lost control. And she's not coming back. Maybe she didn't even make it out here in the first place. And not because she's secretly hiding somewhere just inside the doorway.

"Lark?" they call out again, pleading now. Baird sits silent by their side, tail flicking.

"You alright."

A familiar voice comes from behind them. Damian saunters out through the door, not really particularly sounding like he cares for the answer so much as he's using his question as a greeting while he fumbles with his suit jacket, patting down his sides.

Somewhere in there, he knows he's left a - "Ha!" Reaching inside of his jacket, he pulls out a cigarette and immediately twirls it the right way around before popping it in between his lips. Only then does he shake some new creases out of his jacket and look up to ask, "Who were you looking ffffooohhyou've got a cat." His attention darts uncertainly between Seren and Baird, as he comes to a halt and the realization sets in. "You're the one with the-!!!"

He gestures enthusiastically back toward the door with both hands, as if the motion means anything, beaming a lopsided smile around his cigarette when he turns back to Baird fully. "It's got wings!"

Maybe, Seren thinks to themself, She'll reappear now if the focus is on Baird. After all, the pixie showed a jealous streak sometimes. It's a thought interrupted with a start when they're no longer alone.

They turn around to better face— it's not Zachery, but boy did they think it at first— the apparent twin with a small smile. "I was looking for a friend of mine who ran off. I thought she was just up to her usual antics, but I must've hurt her feelings." When they look down to Baird, he's got one wing partly unfolded, preening (or just itching) with a nibble into the bone of it before he looks over his shoulder, amber eyes less curious than Seren would expect.

He nonetheless lets out a mewl of greeting. The corner of Seren's mouth pulls back in their endearment for him.

"Yeah, he's got wings almost every day, in some shape or another," they explain on Baird's behalf. "Sometimes Baird just flies on his own without them, but he loves being cats and birds— gryphons." Seren looks down to him and the cat slowly turns around. The tuxedo paint to him proves itself to be literal, a small black patch on his chest looks suspiciously like a bowtie. "I tried to get him to dress nice for the occasion, but this was the closest compromise we could come to. He's normally flying, too, but tonight we're just…"

They share a moment of eye contact with their summon, something passing between them. Go on. Call it what it is. Seren just shakes their head with a smile.

"Anyway. Baird's my best friend! We've been together as long as I can remember." Looking back to Damian, they strike out a hand his direction. "And I'm Seren, Seren Evans." They beam a little brighter for just a moment, trying to paper over any sign of their internal struggle. "I work with the groom over at Raytech. Well, not with-with, not usually, but in the same building. Are you his…?"

Damian listens as if enchanted, breathing only a small, "He, of course, yeah," before he slowly takes the cigarette from his mouth and pushes it behind his ear, never once taking his eyes off of Baird.

"That is flipping cool," he says once silence comes back over them, only then sparing a glance back up at Seren to say, "Yeah, I'm ah- I'm his uncle." He says easily, shaking their hand with quick, casual informality and a knowing raise of his eyebrows. "Still identical though. Weird, right."

Afterwards, he lowers himself into a crouch to offer Baird a hand out of instinct - though in this case, presumably, more to sniff than shake. "Hey bud. I think you look really handsome."

Seren's look to Damian slants skeptical before they let go, their arms swinging back and clasping behind them as they look off. All this talk about Baird, and Larkspur still hasn't shown up? Meanwhile, Baird noses his way forward, looking from offered fingers to the person bearing them before finally giving a tentative sniff.

"If you want to pet him, be really gentle with him." Seren says as they turn back, peering down. For a lack of anything else to do, they slide their hands into the pockets of their suit, head tilting. "Do you have a name, Uncle Twin?" they ask with a touch of humor in it, though it doesn't carry the same energy it might if they weren't carrying worry in the back of their mind. "Or should I make one up for you, too?"

Baird decides whoever Damian is, his enthusiasm and respect doesn't make him terrible and he moves to butt his head forward against proffered knuckles. It feels like the soft fur of a cat, but there's something sharp about it, as well. Something uncomfortable, that should definitely be treated with care.

And yet, looking down, something seems off about the cat. The way his head hits Damian's hand seems slightly off.

"Oh," Damian says with a hushed zeal, smile bright as he continues to watch Baird. His words tumble out with no less energy, but he keeps his voice lower than before. "Yes, sorry, of course. It's Damian, actually, but you can make a better name up if you like."

Not that he gives Seren a chance, immediately following that up with, "Man, this is amazing." Slightly off or not! He finally ventures to do as suggested, reaching slowly to brush some fingers over and behind one of the cat ears while asking, "Do you do this all the time? Is it a shared thing or an 'in addition to' thing?"

When Damian looks back up, Seren's grey eyes are limned with a ring of silver, their brow arching in a silent question. A shared…? They're working through the question, even as they find it harder and harder to focus suddenly. Baird leans into Damian's hand but it's too strongly done. His otherwise realistic form clips through scritching fingers like a badly rendered 3D model, even as he vibrates with a purr, raven wings on his back rustling and fluffing.

And that falter in appearance is not right. Just like it's not right that Larkspur's not here. Seren forces a smile, feet shifting in discomfort— or to better brace themself against the ground.

"I'm not sure I understand," they confess with a touch of regret. Their tone picks up with brightness as they carry on regardless. "Baird's been around as long as I can remember. He's, um…" With a small laugh, they admit, "He's like a familiar? But he's not, he's just my friend. A lot of times he'll ride around on my shoulder. And we've got other friends, too, like the one I can't find right now…"

Seren looks over their shoulder, and Baird blinks slowly, turning back to mimic their action regardless of the state of any pats.

"I can't…" they repeat, distress finally entering their voice in the form of a strain, like they're focusing particularly hard on a piece of information they're struggling to recall. "Find her."

They know better than to try and force it. Their ability works best when whimsy holds the reins. Friends are more likely to come when they're called, not commanded to appear. "Sorry," Seren apologizes abruptly, realizing they're not focusing on the moment. "I just… this is really important."

Though the purr calls Damian's attention back down again, fascination is quickly overwritten with concern when he further listens to Seren's words.

He offers one more glance of acknowledgement to Baird before the remnants of excitement slip from his expression and he rises to his full height again. Looking Seren over more closely and leveling a clueless stare into their face, he rubs the side of his neck. "Y-yeah, of course. I…" don't fully understand, his tone implies, "Is there anyone inside that I can get to help? Can I help?"

Without waiting for an answer, he sidesteps toward the nearest foliage, eyebrows raised. "I could have a look-see around. Does she look like this one - sorry, Baird - or…?"

"She, um— she's about three inches tall, wearing purple and red, she had icing all over her face when she took off." Seren abruptly looks back with wide eyes, realizing they need to clarify, "She's a pix. She's got gossamer wings, they've got veins like leaves. Her name is Larkspur. She used to go by Orchid but she found a new favorite flower, one that was less… finicky. I— I thought we were doing better, I really, really thought that…"

Their hand runs back through their hair, grasping at the short, styled growth of it as they focus, holding her image in their mind.

Suddenly they cup their hands around the side of their mouth, shouting, "Lark! You can have as much cake as you want! A whole cupcake, just for you! We'll get the bubbles like you wanted to see, too."

Seren's head swims as they look to and fro, searching just like Damian for signs of a fantastic creature that's no longer there to find. It's just the two of them on the patio, one of them shouting into the dark, right outside the party. At least the music inside should mostly drown them out from the other wedding-goers? Smokers around the front might start to wonder, though.

Damian's motions slow, and where a moment ago he looked ready to go rifle through the bushes, he now turns to watch Seren as if something they've said makes him hesitant to look away, let alone walk off.

Maybe Baird might give him a hint of what to do or where to start - as wild of a concept as that might be to try and process - but he briefly glances down and then to the side to find… nothing where he was, either.

"Are…" He tries, brow knitting as his head angles to one side, Seren's face studied. "Are you alright? Ah!" He perks up, and his eyebrows pop back up right along with the rest of him. "I'll— I'll get my brother, actually." And off he goes, quickly toward the door.

Seren's not all right, actually.

The silver ringing their eyes flickers, a bead of blood gathering under the left side of their nose. When Damian indicates he's going to go find Zachery, they turn from their search with sudden vigor. "No. No, it's his wedding night, and this… whatever this…"

They're not even looking after him at this point, realizing what he's already noted— Baird's absence. They fixate on where he was, a confused look on their face. Seren reaches out for where he ought to be, nudging the canvas of reality with a prod of their ability, and—

Their eyes return a mundane shade of grey, headache only growing.

"He must've…" Seren tries to reason, explain it away, even if only to themself. The chill in the air suddenly feels so much more oppressive. "Sorry, I must not be feeling well. I should— go."

"Go where?" Damian's voice rings out with a measure of panic, from where he lingers at the door with his shoulders hitched up, uncertainly holding a hand up in front of himself. "H-hold on, just— if you've got a car, I can…"

An idea pulls his shoulders back down, and he whips around to plant a hand on the doorframe and to yell, suddenly, "'Ey! Sweetheart! C'mere a second!"

"Don't make a fuss, Damian, I'm right here," comes back almost immediately, in a voice with a distinct trill of annoyance. Aisha's stocky form sweeps into view, her blue cocktail dressed self short enough to duck underneath her husband's arm. Her eyes find Seren almost immediately, and a terse expression of enduring her caller turns instantly to a gentler one. "Oh."

She glances briefly to her husband, but finding him in the middle of a desperately exaggerated shrug, she steps quickly up to Seren, conjuring a warm, encouraging smile. "You look unwell, dear. Can I get you anything?"

"A ride home?" Damian suggests, and his wife offers no objection.

Seren is in the midst of shaking their head, offering an explanation, when Damian calls in the cavalry. Aisha's smaller form, in that blue— with that chastising but well-meaning tone. She's like the Blue Fairy come to life.

They imagine her very clearly with those wings, but none appear on her back, nor does her dress take on an additional sparkle. No, that all stays in Seren's head rather than make itself apparent.

With a smile of apology, Seren dabs at the underside of their nose. "Yeah, I was thinking I should head home," they explain in apology, then looking down at their hand blink at seeing a smear of blood rather than just a dot. Shit. "Ah—" With a start, they begin to hold up their other hand, uncertain what to do that doesn't involve staining their suitjacket or the white of their shirt. "Napkin, maybe, and I'll call myself a ride. I get discounts through Pryr, so I just planned on…"

Seren looks up abruptly to Aisha and Damian both. "I am so sorry about all this."

Aisha's attention snaps behind her again, and she only has to stare Damian for a second before he quietly mouths oh okay yes right and ducks back inside in search of spoils.

His wife turns back to Seren with her smile still in place, and some more of it finally entering her eyes now that she's assessed the situation a little more clearly. "Oh, hush, you're no trouble, honest." She waves a hand between them as if wafting the concerns physically away, then says with determination carried on her words, "I'll stay right here with you for the now."

She claims a waiting spot a couple of steps beside Seren before turning to face the door and thereby denying any awkwardness over a handshake when she pleasantly adds, "Aisha Miller-Dhumal, by the way."

The sound of the music floating out hadn't become unbearable, but Seren didn't realize what it was doing to their headache until the door seals behind Damian. Their shoulders relax by a hair, back of their knuckle pressed to their nose. Maybe an investment in a handkerchief would have served.

"Seren Evans," they introduce themself, their nerves diminished greatly by the small gesture of companionship Aisha offers simply by her positioning. "Pleasure to meet you. I, um, kind of— wasn't doing great til you stepped out." This seems safe enough to admit, and they do it with a chuckle, keeping as still as possible regardless. What were you even supposed to do with nosebleeds anyway? Head back?

They tilt their head back toward the sky, Aisha still in their periphery. "You've got a calming presence. Maybe your husband knows that, too." Seren lets their eyes flicker shut for a moment in a sigh they're careful to emit only from their mouth.

"I think I lost one of my friends tonight." they admit, because if they don't acknowledge it now, it'll never happen. And Aisha seems nice enough, right? She'll… she'll understand. Their voice trembles for a moment as they begin again. "I'm really hoping the other just went back home and he'll be there when I get back. Or at least, that he'll come home in the morning."

"I don't know what I did wrong—" is as far as Seren makes it before they need to take in another breath to brace themself. "And even if it's not my fault, I'd still take it back if I could."

"He should," Aisha crisply declares, of her husband. When Seren says they lost one of their friends, her brows slant into a look of concern again, but she manages to straighten them out into intent listening before long.

Unsure quite what to make of any of this, she sucks in a quick breath and chances a guess.

"It never does get any easier, does it. When they go and take a part of you with them." She answers after a moment of silence over the drone of muffled music. "But I'll tell you the same thing I told my daughters—" Her chin lifts, the rhythm of her words deliberately measured and rehearsed. "We can't control who leaves, only who we permit to stay."

Then, her eyes narrowing at the door, she tacks on sharply, "God, hearing it now - maybe they were right, maybe it is a bit pretentious."

Pretentious or not, it does make Seren laugh.

The sound of it tapers off into a helpless groan of god, what do I do now? while looking up into the dark of the sky, but it was there. They close their eyes after, letting out a sigh.

"It's— it's one way of looking at it, at least."

With their unoccupied hand, they reach behind them, crossing hemispheres of their body to pull their phone out of the opposite pocket. One eye opens to squint down at their phone, navigating semi-awkwardly to the rideshare app. "And it's not untrue, so there's that," Seren offers up helpfully.

"Well," Aisha breathes in a laugh of her own, her words coming a little less stiffly now that some of the proverbial ice has properly broken. "That's something, isn't it. Which is maybe more than we can say for—"

The door opens with a start, and Damian comes shouldering through to hurriedly wander back out with both his hands full. "Got 'em!" He cheerfully announces, stepping closer to the Seren and his wife, both.

The former is offered a sheepish grin, and then a fresh and entirely too plentiful stack of paper napkins. His wife, with the other hand, is treated to two separate shiny, blue purses he's found on a chair, held by their straps in front of her. "One of these is yours and the other is also quite nice but I'm not sure which is which, so I should probably return one soon."

Aisha offers dryly, "Neither of them are mine, dear."

"Mh." Replies Damian, staring frozenfaced at Seren still. Shit.

Seren has to swipe away two napkins off the top quickly as they try to stifle a snort of laughter. It shouldn't be funny. They shouldn't laugh in the first place. But also— they really shouldn't sneeze their laugh all over the place accidentally.

Dabbing their fingers, palm, and scrubbing the back of their hand briefly, they jam what's left of that napkin up to their nose before taking the rest of the stack with a relieved sigh. They feel slightly more prepared to face the rest of the night now, and that…

That's something, they suppose.

"You should stay here, anyway," they offer reassurance to the two. "Enjoy the party. It's like, a once in a lifetime thing. It's your brother's wedding. I'd kill to have one of those to go to."

Humor's a good sign, right? Seren even forces a smile past the napkin. They hold up their phone, wrist twisting to show off the glowing screen. "My ride'll be here in, like, five minutes and then I'll be good to go."

It's a little funny.

Damian stands with the lowered purses at his side, sucking in a breath through his teeth as he steps back and casts a nervous glance back toward the door. "Yeeaah," he laughs out, a little reluctantly. "Life's strange, isn't it? Alright, well, if you're okay now…"

He's already backing away, but he does at least offer Seren a wave before his hand hits doorknob again, and he slips back inside to return his goods. "It was nice to meet you, Seren Evans! And Baird too!"

Aisha holds still, watching the door close behind her husband before saying, suddenly and coldly, "If he thinks I didn't see that cigarette behind his ear…"

When she turns to Seren again, the warning is gone from her voice. "Good luck with your friends," she says with sympathy softening her smile as she studies Seren's face one last time, then nods in farewell. "You'll sort things out, I promise. With time."

Seren returns the smile. "Thanks, Aisha." Tilting their head toward the door, they encourage her, "Go. Enjoy the party."

When they're alone again, they swap napkins out and look down at their phone while they make their way out front. Their brow furrows while they consider the screen, swiping away from the rideshare app and instead pulling up their work email.

Good luck with your friends … You'll sort things out!

If they were going to, it'd take initiative. It'd take following up with Bella about her work. It'd take them making that first step themself.

Because what was the alternative?

Seren checks the stain rate on the fresh napkin with a glance before looking back to their phone, then up abruptly when they realize their ride's arrived. They wave down a vehicle with a bright-green light on the dash using the glowing screen of their phone, and lean into a jog in that direction.


Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License