Brit sat with the dictionary while slowly flipping the pages. “Unexpected,” she lisped. “Unexpected means not anticipated; as in unexpected guests or unexpected news.” After reading over the words several times, she closed the book. The Shelter was filled with guests. A small group was frantically searching for a paper they had left on the table. Brit asked, “What is it?” After much shuffling, they told her that it was simply a chart. As words slowly formed, Brit realized it was the table she had given to Apollo. The group grew silent when she told them that she had given it to him since his name was on it. After a moment of silence, the group quickly said good-byes and scattered before Apollo happened by.
Brit wondered where Ethan had gone because he was not there when she woke. After a shower, she dressed and walked to the foyer of the Shelter. Some residents arrived and left, each greeting her. Outside, Lord Winter and Winterkitty, the snow creatures she and others had made, had been toppled, trampled, and might have been shot. “Not unexpected,” she lisped and noticed that the snow still was mostly intact. If she wanted, she thought, she could make them again without much trouble.
While making the snow creatures, many had helped. It started with Apollo, and then Lorne and Beau had joined. They were discussing a poem of a king who had died. Whether he was once great or whether he merely thought he was, in the end, the king was simply dust commanding sand. In the middle of the discussion, Brianna had fallen to the ground with bloody hands. “Unexpected,” lisped Brit softly as she applied her new words. Others had come and gone: Quiet, someone she did not know named Mei, a young vampire who seemed not to know she was a vampire, Jason, and several others. Then Ethan had come, but he did not help her make snow creatures. She giggled thinking of him and lisped, “Not unexpected.” While most playful, Ethan rarely engaged in group silliness.
During the day, she had seen many in passing. Some, such as Nerissa, she used to see often. Others, such as Redd and Tonks, she had just met. Brit mused on why she passed by Nerissa and had spent much time talking to the new library helpers. She had also seen Denny and Omega where Omega was playing music. Spinning, she thought it was called, but they had not stopped to visit with them. Was it expected or unexpected not to linger as one used to with old friends or was that something reserved for new ones.
Picking up her mug of cocoa, she tapped her nails on it while lost in thought. She sometimes missed the days of talking with those whom have been so close to her. “Denny, Omega, Grr, Joah, Larissa.” So many she thought. “Poncho. Merma. Tony. Ellie. Mel.” She took more than an hour saying each name slowly less she forget anyone. “Stacy. Jon. Choi.” Some she saw often and some she rarely saw these days. “Pieter. Blueray. Nikita.” The names she said went on and on. Was it expected or unexpected for so many to come and go as if weaving through one’s life?
Pars’s disappearance on the docks that day was unexpected, she thought. Pars had watched over her from birth. He had always been near. Before he disappeared, she had never been alone. Taking another sip of her cocoa, she realized that she had become accustom to people leaving. Each walked in to her life and stayed a while before leaving as quietly as Pars had disappeared from the docks. Such occurrences had become expected to many, but never to Brit.
Nikita’s reappearance was not a surprise to Brit. When Ethan greeted her, Brit had felt her presence. Calm and familiar. Ethan simply told Nikita that she had been missed. Nodding, Brit agreed and had asked, “Where did you go?” Nikita replied with a single word: Scotland. Looking to Ethan, Brit felt that the response must have been expected. Regardless, it was good to have her home.
Brit turned on the radio and listened to Omega’s voice over the airwaves. She could picture Denny standing near his love. Another sip of cocoa and she smiled as Omega dedicated “Come What May” to her and Ethan. Brit nibbled dunked marshmallows as she listened and thought it was sweet of Omega to have played it. Omega’s voice and Denny near her was expected. The song was not and Brit found that an unexpected pleasure.
Thinking more on Denny, Brit sighed softly. In the week before, he had paid an unexpected visit to the Shelter. While there, he acted oddly and said some horrible things to Ethan. In the end, he said to Ethan that their marriage was cursed and that they would be divorced. Later, Ethan had assured her that too much drink lead to such words. Drunk or no, Ethan had told Denny he was no longer welcome in the Shelter; and Denny had not been in the library when Brit was there. She missed him, but he had unexpectedly been scarcely near for months.
Looking up, Brit watched more people come in. One sat for soup and Brit tried to remember whether the person had registered at the Shelter. When she started to inquire, the lady left making Brit realize she had just slipped in for the soup. Shrugging, Brit felt good that the woman had something to warm her belly on such a frigid day. Brit waved at the little demon that she and Ethan had found freezing in the street before her thoughts returned to wondering where Ethan had gone. Stifling a yawn, she thought of the unexpected turmoil during the day while they slept.
It could not have been more than 30 minutes past dawn. Brit was wound around Ethan who lay dormant beneath her. Her eyes opened to the sound of growling. Low and menacing. Raising her head, she blinked through the darkness of the room, but sensed no one was near. “Ethan,” she lisped. Giving him a shake, she repeated, “Ethan?” She really did not expect him to respond without more effort on her part. Thinking that perhaps it was a dream, she settled again on top of him and started to sleep again. Her eyes had closed for sleep and she heard it again.
Lifting her head once more, she rubbed her eyes to try to wake so that she could focus. Again, the growling was heard. Louder. Her eyes widened and she wriggled free of Ethan to find a window. Listening at the door, she could tell that again, none were near. Brit’s feet pattered softly on the cold floor as she opened the door to go to the windows of the hallway. Looking down, she saw her undisturbed snow creatures standing guard. More growling and an angry male voice could be heard. Leaning toward the glass, Brit saw a neko male and a human lady standing at the door. A huge lycan was growling.
Brit tapped on the glass, but no one heard her. It was then that she saw the lycan lunge at the male crashing him backwards. Brit ran down stairs to the front door opening it. No one seemed to notice her. Turning she shouted, “Turmoil!” No sound answered and she turned back to the door. The male neko was obviously shaken, and Brit understood the lycan when he told the neko boy that he was to perish. Brit regrouped and lisped, “You can easily kill him….but….I would be grateful…and would tell Wotan so….if you allowed him to live.” The lycan seemed surprised by her request.
Reflecting on the lycan’s reaction of pausing, Brit realized her actions were not expected. The lycan, she guessed, probably knew he could think on what happened and knew he could kill the kitty boy another time if he chose to do it. Brit puffed her cheeks and hoped he would just forget about the kitty. The lycan left and so Brit took the couple inside. She paused seeing Lorne at the door. He seemed to ensure all was well, and then left. Looking above him, she wondered momentarily whether Brianna was tottering from the rooftop again.
Once inside, the kitty boy seemed angry. Just as Brit knew she was not like others, he knew that the lycan could have easily killed him. The way he looked at the lady, Brit knew that she was the kitty’s beloved. Tilting her head, Brit knew that he was also wondering who would care for his lady should he perish. Both the kitty and human girl were cold, and Brit found them jackets from the Shelter’s lost and found. Watching them calm, Brit felt herself relax even as she could hear the howling in the distance as the lycan told its story to the others in the wee hours of morning. Brit felt tired, but ensured that the couple had food and knew where they could rest. Walking to the door of the Shelter again, Brit saw another resident return home and then she returned to the resting place.
Finishing her cocoa, she sighed softly. A most unexpected turn of events. “You left our resting place?” came Ethan’s soft voice as he brushed snow from his shoulders. She was pleased to see him. Rising, she kissed his lips before hugging warmly. Ethan returned a trio of kisses and looked her over as he always did upon greeting. His ability to see within her mind was not unexpected. It felt warm and she welcomed when it occurred. Her ability to hear his thoughts that followed, however, was new. It was unexpected. The growl from within him, however, was expected. Another kiss was obviously needed and she could feel his eyes follow her as she rinsed her cup. “Baby,” he said softly.
Brit could hear his thoughts that formed, and so she hugged him and kissed him again lingeringly. “I cannot allow someone to perish at our door without saying something, Ethan…” Her eyes met his and he could hear her thoughts explain that he would not allow such happenings either. Blinking, Ethan was unsure whether it was her nature or his blood that prompted some of her actions. Kissing her forehead, he wrapped her close to him and rocked both of them in a warm embrace while he pondered the events that he had seen within her mind.
4 comments:
a most wonderful entry Baby *he grins and adds pointing out* absolutlely expected
The dreamtime -- The shadow lands -- The spiritual shadow of Toxia can be considered far dirtier than the city itself. Lorne had seen the skies of many ages, none so tortured as these. Themes of red, and angry violet made jagged lines in patterns of despair, and rage -- wounds like mouths of teeth, or screams carved out of the atmosphere, and earth, as much as what is bellow one's feet in the shadowlands may be referred to as earth, and all about the dead were arrayed, startled, lost, progressively more numerous since Vlad could no longer be found near.
Some gathered round the cloud of curling black that could be considered Lorne's true aspect peeking through a body on the physical plane, like dust spying through a peep hole in the floor. They gathered to the glints of what lay shrouded inside that cloud.
Paradise on earth, that handful stolen by Lorne, He now kept where what was not quite earth, and was further from paradise than a reasonable individual might have cared to come: The spiritual plane just beneath Toxia. Drear does not begin to describe. Prestigious? Where on earth does an archangel fallen from the time of the Garden, and finally free from perfect dark, come back to?
He had heard Brit cry. Filtered echoes, and confusion of voices from the waking world the sound scape on the spiritual plane was for those with faculty to hear, Lorne knows Brit's voice. Even so, it had been louder than others within this psychic realestate to begin with, and grown more-so, especially this past while.
Turmoil at the shelter is what He had heard, and maneuvered His less than rested flesh-puppet to it's doors to hear more of the matter. It was over, and Brit found at least no longer in immediate threat of harm.
Where should He go? On the way back to the warmth of His feline wife's cuddling self, the image of Brit as she had become after much growth, and under Ethan's endearing scrutiny gave Him intrigue, and also pause. Where is the line drawn between giving a nascent soul opportunity and careful assistance growing, and gilding a flower for to be locked away with you all the years of your immortality: the light of day in your isolated cell of night. Is Ethan's trial by love so sacred as to be left un-interfered with when Brit's trial by life is at stake? The doubts come and they go...
Apollo sleeps sound, snorting as he dreams of Brit's voice cry out repeatedly "Turmoil" as if it echoed and an army of snowmen march through with bloody bitemarks on their necks. He gasps, sweating as he turns in his sleep, two bloody chunks at the end of his arms, desperately looking for the remains of his hands as he finds himself swim against some unknown force in the giant, endless iris of Ethan's unblinking eye
Joah sits alone at the top of the Library stairs, her arms wrapped around her knees, gazing at the pillow by the fire where Brit so often lay coloring the world about her....
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