Christopher Brammell (chrisbrammell) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2009-11-06 10:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | #solo, 2009-06-20 |
You don't seem familiar...
Who: Chris Brammell and Guest (NPC)
When: June 20th, late afternoon
Where: In the park...
Warnings: One of them is speechless. One of them is not impressed.
Christopher Brammell was minding his own business. He'd bought a newspaper and was sitting in the park, doing his best to ignore the occasional animal that would hurry through, pause to look at him, then move on. In his imagination, he pictured them with little day timers, checking to see if they were where they should be. Across the globe, people were connecting with all creatures, great and small. He smiled a little, turned the page from an article updating that very news from somewhere in Japan, and folded it to the real estate section.
He'd finally decided to purchase a place in Scarlet Oaks. His boring, white apartment would be history and he'd be able to immerse himself in renovations. He had too many projects on the go already, but there was nothing like fixing up a place. His family had done that since he and his sister had been small: buying a neglected house, making it better and moving on. They'd stayed in Galveston the whole time, just gradually renovated parts of the neighborhood.
And he was going to have a place all his own. Maybe Erika would help him decorate.
I was reading that, a dour voice said from somewhere roughly behind his right shoulder. Chris paused and controlled himself sufficiently that he didn't turn to look. Maybe he'd imagined it. Maybe it was some supernatural hoodoo and he could just ignore it. Maybe he just needed more coffee.
You drink too much coffee as it is, the voice said tartly, and that's when Chris realized the voice was inside his head.
He turned to look over his right shoulder then and found himself half sliding from the park bench in surprise. A huge bird, talons digging into the wood on the back of the bench, stared at him the way only birds could. It was as if it could see into Chris's soul.
I can, the voice said, sounding mildly irked about it. It's very dull. You have so much potential and what do you do? The bird's head leaned forward. You dance in the rain. Honestly.
Chris gaped up at him.
"You-You're a bird," he stammered.
And you're stating the blindingly obvious. As the Great Falcon is my witness, we have a lot of work to do.
"Wha-wha-what?" Chris sat up just as a large dog trotted through the park.
Found him. Thank you. The voice/bird seemed to be addressing the animal. The dog turned her head and barked, then continued on. And yes, I'll need the luck.
"The dog... wished you luck?"
The head lifted up. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?
"Hey-!"
Get off the ground. It's unseemly. And pick up the paper. That's littering. The wings flexed with apparent impatience. We're going to have a little chat, you and I.
Chris cautiously stood, picking up the newspaper as he did so.
"I'm talkin' to a bird..."
No, you're talking to yourself, and you probably look like an idiot. I'm communicating with you via telepathy. If you don't know what that is, look it up.
Chris found himself unable to stop a smirk from forming.
"I'm talkin' to a bird with an attitude."
There was a sigh, distinctive as such even though it sounded a little like wings, flapping through his mind.
We have... an awful lot of work to do. Now, don't hang about.
Bemused, Chris said, continuing to speak aloud, "Where are we goin'?"
Why do you drop your 'g's? To your home. That nasty thing I flew by earlier, only to discover you weren't in. A proper house with a balcony is in order...
Chris was picking up his knapsack and paused when something occurred to him.
"Are you -"
Your familiar? Unfortunately, yes. The lizard in Japan had it much better.
The bird was referring to the article Chris had just skimmed before turning the page.
"Why...?"
Because his Human was aware of his abilities and actually used them. Unlike you who, apparently, thinks playing with wind is like playing with a new toy and a storm is a water park.
Ouch. "Now, just a goddamn minute -"
No more minutes, the bird said. Get a move on. It took to the air with a great, graceful flap of wings. And for the record, I am a Peregrine Falcon, not just a 'bird', thank you.
Chris watched as it circled. How could this be happening? And to him? For a boy from Texas, there was far too much that was strange going on in his life.
"You know who I am?" he called up, startling a young man who was jogging through the park. The man hurried along.
I do. Now, stop yelling at me and move.
"And you are?" he said, continuing to yell.
There was that sigh again. Talking to a yahoo, it would seem. My name is Floyd. It was said with great dignity.
Chris grinned. "Floyd? Your name is Floyd?"
Are you deaf? Don't make me rip your eyes out, the bird said, sounding miffed. Now, go.
With nothing better to do, a slightly dazed Chris did exactly that, the Peregrine Falcon following above him. The currents let Floyd coast most of the way to the apartment and his new life bound to an inexperienced air elemental.
Philosophically, the falcon thought there were worse fates.