deercountry | Sun rises, night falls, sometimes the sky calls...

The fact of the matter was that sometimes, trees were easier than people. For one thing, trees didn't kill people. At least, not in most universes, including Ariadne's. For another, trees were much better listeners than people. Part of that was probably because they couldn't talk back. The other part was that they were rooted to the spot and couldn't avoid you and ignore you. And yes, it was a certain Anakin Skywalker that Ariadne found herself comparing (unfavorably) to trees lately.

Ultimately, given the fact that the trees had come with her from Deerington, Ariadne had begun to think of her orchard as the closest thing she had to family. With everything going on around her, more and more, she found herself bundled up in her cloak, walking around the orchard purely to have someone she could share her troubles with.

Of course, it didn't help matters that she'd named all the trees.

Her morning routine was always the same. After washing and getting dressed, she'd go down to the orchard and say good morning to each of them by name. "Good morning, Jane! Good morning, Araceli! Good morning, Tyler!"

They were all her trees and she loved them. But somewhere along the line, she'd decided that her pear tree, Sophia, was the best listener. So when she didn't have pressing matters, she spread out her cloak underneath Sophia's winter branches and shared all of her troubles. Today was one of those days. "Sometimes," she said, a hand on the tree's trunk, looking down into her roots, "I regret not learning to take up the sword. I don't like swords, you know that. But it seems like they've become a kind of language around here. It's really quite horrible."

Since Ariadne's trees were her pride and joy, she was always excited to show them off. It was, she imagined, the same kind of thrill as a noble might get, showing off a grand, new palace that they had finally finished building. A chance to show the world who they were and what riches they possessed. She knew, of course, that her trees weren't silver or gold or stained glass. But they were beautiful. And magical. And had survived all of the terrors of Deerington, just like Ariadne herself.

So yes, she was excited to have Ezra over.

It boggled the mind a little, how often she was drawn to the Jedi and the Sith. She was beginning to think it was no accident. It was some kind of destiny--if you believed in such a thing. In any case, she liked Ezra a lot. They had some kind of kinship, which was very rare for Ariadne, being the only one of her kind and all.

All that to say, she was excited to know he would be visiting.

She spent most of the morning--as she spent every morning--clearing away the fresh snow in the orchard, checking to make sure none of the branches were damaged, and otherwise just having a very lively (albeit one-sided) conversation with her fruit trees. "I can't wait until the spring," she said to Jane, her nectarine tree, as she brushed snow off of the trunk. "I've really been in the mood for nectarines."

After he'd spent December ~~hiding~~ lurking in one forest, one would think that Illarion would be sick of trees and ready for a change. One would also be terribly wrong in that, for an elf--whether or not he was also a shrike--would never grow tired of the forest. Though his errand out to Serenity Garden hadn't been about the orchard in the first place, he is of course drawn inevitably that way when he notes (from without the door) that there's no one in the shop. If the proprietor's out in her garden, so much the better; if not, he'll spend a little time examining the orchard and the herbs himself, to see if she's growing what he's looking for so he can arrange a later trade.

But, ah--luck's with him for once and she is there, even if it does sound to his sharp ears like he's intruding on something he's not meant to eavesdrop on. He halts beside the fragrant cinnamon tree, pulling down the hood of his greatcoat to be a little more personable, and remarks, "More horrible if all are speaking that language as their mother tongue, I am thinking. There is always need for those who do not turn first to war."

Tragically, while Ariadne knew quite a lot about gardens and plants and herbs, she knew next to nothing about running a business. She barely knew about shopping and bartering, having first lived in the rain forest, and then in a palace, where such errands were left to someone else. Now, she felt completely spoiled by all of it. And building something herself felt like a high challenge.

But, she figured, the best way to start was with finding a way to advertise what she had to offer, without making a sign. The locals were strangely squeamish about signs.

The idea came to her in that place halfway between sleep and awake. And it felt brilliant at the time.

Which was why, that morning, Ariadne was sitting on the roof of her shop, hanging upside down over the edge, carefully carving the shapes of trees and leaves into the stone over the front entrance with her talons. She was no artist, but she could make basic shapes. And her talons were sharp enough to cut many surfaces, including granite. So while she looked ridiculous, she figured the plan wasn't entirely without merit.

She turned at the sound of the voice and was surprised when she saw an Elf that didn't smell like an Elf. Not like the Elves she knew back home, anyway. Still, she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen long, graceful ears. Or felt the familiar thrum of ozone that always seemed present around those native to Valeria.

So her face split into a big smile, her eyes gleaming like coins from a fountain.

Perhaps not one of her Elves. But still an Elf, somehow. It was comforting to think that Humans weren't the only creatures in every single corner of the multiverse.

"I agree," she said, pulling her hood down, off of her hair. "I wish everyone saw it that way."

It wasn't her 'scene,' as they said. Actually, she couldn't remember who 'they' were, but she was absolutely sure it was a figure of speech. And a good one. Because it really wasn't her scene. Ariadne liked taverns well enough, but the Snake's Den was something a little more than a tavern. And yet...there she was. Something just told her that it was where she needed to be. An instinct maybe? A spell perhaps? Didn't matter. She was there. And enjoying some sweet and fruity drink that was approximately the color of a pink tulip.

She was curled up in a big, squashy chair, her feet tucked under her, her cloak loose around her shoulders to keep her warm. Not that she needed it. The whole room felt warm and cozy and homey.

Nothing like she would have expected.

Feeling delightfully lethargic for the first time in...possibly forever...she turned her attention to the stage, where a violin player had just finished and ducked back behind the curtain.

When she first decided that she wanted to live openly and honestly, Ariadne thought it would be a simple matter of telling the truth once and being done with it. But she realized now, that was palace life talking. The mindset that the people she lived among would never change, that the same faces would pass her in the hall again and again.

The multiverse wasn't like that.

She was beginning to understand that her idea of permanence was...misplaced. And an unfortunate side effect was that there were a lot of people around who hadn't heard her initial announcement and had no idea who or what she was.

The idea of making the announcement again and again actually made her physically ill. So as a compromise, she decided she would start spending a few hours each day in her natural state.

Which meant there she was, out in her orchard, quietly clearing the snow away from the trunk of her lemon tree. In her natural state: Skin green like the underside of a maple leaf, hair blue as candy floss, lips a deep, dark purple.

Also part of her natural state? Talking to her trees.

"You're looking lovely today, Dagmar," she said sweetly, as if she expected the tree to return the compliment.

Ezra was much more likely to impressed by living things than gold.

And he is visibly impressed, as he looks around. Even in just the few days he's been here, he's gotten some idea of how hard it is cultivate things in Deer Country. "Did you grow all this, or was it already here?

"Neither," she said, giving the tree a final, loving pat. "It's a kind of complicated story but...the trees were a gift. From the divine powers of Deerington. Has anyone told you about Deerington? The place where a lot of us were...before."

That was the best way she could explain it. Ariadne had never been able to parse out much of the magical goings-on in the place. She'd left that to people who were much smarter and much more experienced. Survival had been first on her mind. The survival of her friends first and foremost. Herself a distant second.

"I was gifted with the orchard," she continued. "It was on the roof of a building that was over seven stories high!"

In her defense, that was really very high for Valerian standards.

"When I arrived here, I found the trees just waiting for me."

He shook his head. "No one's mentioned Deerington to me yet. But I was someone else before, too, with people from all over time and space, so that doesn't really surprise me. Sometimes we got random gifts, too. I got an album of pictures of my friends and family."

His gift sounded better than hers. Ariadne was well aware of what photographs were. They actually did have them in Valeria. But none of her family members had ever posed for one, so she was quite certain that no photographs of them could possibly exist. Anyway, seeing them would probably make her sad.

Maybe it made Ezra sad too. She scrutinized his face a moment, trying to decide if he needed a hug.

Probably not. But she'd hold the option in reserve.

Meanwhile, she gestured over to the pear tree. "That's Sophia," she said. "She was my first gift from Deerington." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I don't mean to say that I have favorites or anything. But Sophia is very special to me."

"Oh, whoa...what...?"

Even in the bone-chill of winter, a place as well curated in its foliage as this sure can stand out -- especially after dealing with a rampaging monster around town! Manabu stops near the fence line before the ring of trees and garden fixtures and gawks.

Was this...always here? It's possible; he's not really one to stop and smell the roses...or garden trappings, as it stands.

His gaze moves toward the building proper, searching out for signage. If this is in Willful Machine, then it's a business, right...?

As luck would have it, Ariadne was on the roof when she picked up an unfamiliar scent and heard someone speaking below. All morning, she'd been carving crude leaves and trees into the awning over the doorway. And she was getting all the grime out from under her talons, so she wouldn't muck up the inside of the shop. Not that it was a sterile environment. There were plants and dirt in every corner.

That didn't mean she couldn't try to keep it as well as the shop in Deerington.

At any rate, when she heard the stranger, she crept to the edge of the roof and glanced down.

Not a face she recognized, but in her world, a stranger was just a friend waiting to happen. Or something like that.

"Hello?" she called down, pulling the hood off of her hair so her face could be seen.

"Eh-? Huh?"

Manabu blinks out of his thoughtful absence, looking around. At his feet, a small dog, his omen, catches glimpse of the woman first and takes a few bold steps toward the door, which prompts the man to turn his focus that way, too.

"Oh, ah, hello?" A wave of sheepishness hits, and a hand he raises in hello just as quickly moves to the back of his head. "Sorry, were you talking to me, or someone else?"

She smiled sweetly. "You. Mostly. Although I'm happy to greet your dog as well." She recognized it as a Omen, which meant she didn't want to be rude, of course. "Hello, doggy," she said, dipping her head politely.

Carefully, she squatted down on the edge of the roof, carefully balancing on the balls of her feet, which were bare in spite of the cold weather. Boots were all very well and good when you were walking about. But when you needed a balance, toes were much more useful.

Her braid draped over the entryway, like a long, brown rope.

"Can I help you find something, sir?"

While Manabu draws near, Magnet wags his curled tail happily at being acknowledged, little sponge for attention that he is. Manabu's good eye scans around...and back up at the woman with a curious, but concerned frown.

"Shouldn't I be saying that? Where's your ladder? That doesn't look safe..."

"It's only a single floor."

She'd fallen from far greater heights. And yes, once upon a time, she'd still had her wings. But wings or no, one of the first lessons you learned, living in a rain forest, was how to fall and land safely.

This was barely more than a stumble.

But she smiled, touched by his concern. "I climbed up around back. It's not too terrible a climb."

"Still..."

Still, Manabu's from a place where he'd get smacked upside the head for letting a lady just chill out barefoot on a roof in winter; he can't just shake that kind of breeding even if this whole place really, really wants him to sometimes!

He clears his throat, straightening up a bit.

"Well, if...whatever you're up to is something you want to handle yourself, can I at least be a spotter? Just in case you slip. There's ice everywhere, even where you don't see it!"

Bark, agrees Magnet.

It had been some time since Ariadne experienced the kind of chivalry she was used to, back home. It made her smile. Like an old, familiar song she hadn't heard in a very long time.

But perhaps it wasn't chivalry.

Most of what she experienced was just play-acting on the part of the gentlemen of court, aware that they were always being watched, that they had expectations to live up to.

There was no one here. Just the two of them. So his offer was genuine. And very appreciated.

"That's very kind of you, sir," she said. "But I was honestly about to climb down. You can watch that, if you like?"

No chivalry here - chivalry was over on that one blizzard planet full of crazy people who dressed in old-timey armor and hung out in castles like weirdos! This here's just a boy who grew up being told to be nice to women and children and the elderly in particular - they're the ones who get priority protection and consideration!

That aside, the suggestion makes Manabu move a bit more, halt with a sudden flash of embarrassment as he realizes it seems kind of creepy to just stand there and gawk at a woman anyway?

"I mean!" His face flushes hot, but only briefly; thank goodness for cold blood. "Just to make sure if you do fall, you're at least not hitting the hard ground? So--"

So he's going to shut up before he embarrasses himself and just...take point while trying to not look weird about it, which only makes him feel weirder.

She thought about telling him that she wasn't going to fall. But that would probably sound like bragging. Which was never a good way to start out a conversation or a friendship. So she gave him a smile and a nod instead, before crossing to the other side of the roof, overlooking the entrance to the orchard itself.

There was no ladder.

Instead, she tossed her legs over the side, holding onto the lip of the roof with her fingertips, before her toes managed to find the smallest of holds. After that, she practically oozed down the side of the building. So fast that it might have seemed like falling.

Except she never actually fell.

Climbing a building wasn't all that different from climbing a tree. If anything, you didn't have to be nearly as careful, because a building wasn't alive. You couldn't hurt it if you poked too hard with your nails.

She landed with a little bounce, turning around to face the stranger and offer him a tiny wave.

[ He's stressed. He's really fucking stressed from all of Sam's bullshit that's been going on since they got to Trench months ago - between the soulless crap and the other versions spell unraveling and consequential return to the ocean, Dean's been a mess lately.

(a few good things have happened that he hasn't shared with anyone, but that moment is for him, and he's treasuring the knowledge for the moment)

He's heard something about this being a good place for 'stress relief' or some crap like that, so he slings the guitar he's been handed over his body and steps out onto the stage. He's a little nervous - always has been, even despite the whole Rocky Horror thing, they still haven't performed in front of people yet, and this is a totally different experience than just rehearsing.

But this is easy. It's warm and intimate and he finds the stage fright doesn't cripple him here. He takes a deep breath, and starts to play. ]

[It's safe to assume that seeing Dean walk out on stage was more or less the last thing she expected. She's seen him at rehearsals for Rocky Horror (that name still doesn't make much sense, but then again, neither does the plot), but this is entirely different.

This is...this feels more like Dean himself. Not a character. Not someone else's absurd lyrics. This is...this is just Dean.

And he's quite good!

She stands up, drifting closer to the stage, absently abandoning her drink on an empty table. All she can think about at the moment is Dean. And her eyes gleam as she watches him, as she listens to him...as she is in awe of him.]

It's a definite relief to see her back on solid ground...until it isn't: Her feet are still bare! So while Manabu spares a sheepish half-smile, it washes out real quick back to concern. Magnet trots over to give her a proper sniff, pleased to be in pet-range at last.

"A-are you coldblood, by any chance?" he asks, stepping over into conversation range. "I mean, you don't have any shoes on..."

To be fair, not everyone had posed for the pictures he took, either. He could be sneaky.

"You named the trees," Ezra replies, like he's not sure what to think of that. "Or - did they tell you their names somehow?" he asks, serious, but a little cautious.

Sun rises, night falls, sometimes the sky calls...

For Illarion

For Ezra

no subject

For Raleigh

no subject

For Dean

For Tara

Re: For Ezra

no subject

no subject

no subject

cha-chas in here

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

you're gonna get reg dean at the beginning of the event cause i want them to have this moment lmao

I LOVE Jensen singing that!

no subject

no subject