rocksrule (rocksrule) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2009-11-06 14:07:00 |
|
|||
Who: Dr. Hieronymus Erlkönig, Bruce (NPC), some assorted family (NPCs)
Hier collapsed with a very satisfied sigh at three in the morning. Done. Moved in. Ensconced for the nonce. He kicked off his shoes and switched to fuzzy bed-socks with google-eyes on the toes, sinking into the couch. He sunk rather deep, as the springs were clearly shot. He might get around to sticking some plywood under the cushions someday, but probably not. The upholstry had brought an ample coating of red-gold dog hair from home, but Semper Fido apparently felt that just wasn’t enough. The golden retriever hopped slowly onto the couch to lie down on Hier’s feet.
He reached down to scratch the old dog’s ears before he settled in again. His bed wasn’t made yet, and he didn’t really feel a great need to haul himself into the itty-bitty bedroom. His living room/study/library/conservatory was nice enough, and the summer air through the window wasn’t so cold he’d miss a blanket. He’d never moved without help before, and he’d just bask in the sense of accomplishment for the scant hours left in the night, surrounded by his menagerie and collections.
There were his fossils, just so, in their velvet-lined, glass topped case, carefully labeled in Spanish, English, and Latin. There was the stuffed vulture atop the bookcase, glaring at anyone who happened to walk in. There his triptych of Neil Gaiman's Sandman prints, elegantly mounted above an articulated bat skeleton in Lucite. The cacti were looking very charming, arranged throughout. The rats were bounding happily throughout their cage, enlivened by the chunks of apple he’d tossed them. Pol was imitating his snoring, her sign that he really should be going to sleep, which he chose to ignore. The hedgehogs were snuffling about. The quiet crunching of freeze-dried crickets was a comforting sound. Semper Fido was cutting off circulation to his feet and all was right with the world.
And though it wasn’t a subject of conscious satisfaction, he felt uncommonly well checked up-upon, too. The first call had come that morning, from his father, their first communication in almost a year, what with this and that.
“Hieronymus, could you do me a favor and scan a few publications for me? Our library doesn’t have them, and the loan system takes forever.” Gunter Erlkönig didn’t really say things like “hello” or “how are you” on the phone. His lightly accented voice was companionable enough. He just forgot about such pleasantries.
“I’d love to, Papa, but I don’t own a scanner at the moment. It died on me this spring. Haven’t replaced it yet.”
“Damn. Well, how are you? I heard something about
“Yes, I’m teaching there now. A tad more prestigious than my old position.”
“Oh. Well, good for you. But keep your eye on tenure. Grasp that golden apple and your worries are over. Where would I be without tenure?”
At his fifth or sixth assistant professorship, Hier had guessed, but he didn’t say it. His father was a perfectly competent scientist and teacher. There was just nothing truly great about him. “I’ll bend my eye toward that light. How are you otherwise?”
“Alright, alright. Marlene and I are thinking about getting married. Damned if I care, but she likes the idea.”
“Well, good for you. Who’s Marlene, if I may?”
“Oh, bursar’s office secretary. I must have mentioned her to you. No? Oops. Well, we were thinking of about this time next year. You can be my best man. Your brother will complain, but you’re the firstborn.”
“I’d also appreciate being told about any siblings I have, Papa.”
“Oh, had I not… Right. Well, I’ll let you know. I’ve got to go harass the librarians if you can’t scan for me.”
And that had been the end of that. He’d still been mulling over the sudden revelation that he had a brother when the phone had rung again. He was slow to answer, wrist deep in pyritized ammonites as he’d been at the time, and was treated to “-don’t you answer your damned phone?” in shrill Spanish.
“Hello, Mama,” he answered in the same tongue. The last few times he’d spoken to her she’d been only speaking Spanish. Next week it might be back to embracing the country she’d lived in most of her life and whose culture she loved, but for the moment she was living fully in both worlds and actualizing her central self through reconnecting with her childhood traditions.
“What are you doing that’s so important? You don’t even have your job yet.”
“Moving in. How are you?”
“I’m fine. Do you have one of those magical animals?”
“Um, yes. Yes I do. Shall I put him on?”
“Don’t be stupid. I couldn’t call you when it all happened. You were in
“I was in
“They’re both islands! What kind is it?”
“A kiwi.”
“A fruit?”
“No, Mama, a kiwi bird. Should I email you a picture? He’s very cute and feathery.” Hier had had a hard time suppressing a snort at Bruce’s rather rude comment, glad his mother couldn’t hear it.
“Go ahead. Good. I can mention that in my next address. My own son is not only an elemental, but has his own… what is it? Familiar? Familiar. So I know from experience what such a bond can mean to the person affected… Yes, that’s very good. Good luck with the job. Goodbye!”
He’d taken a break for dinner after that, a nice box of macaroni and cheese. Hier was a drink snob with about sixteen kinds of tea and almost as many sorts of coffee in his cabinet, but in terms of food, he still ate like a college student. He had been the one to make the day’s last phone call, as promised, to his Aunt Paquita.
“Hello, Ramos Diaz residence.”
“Hi, can I get a large pizza with cheddar cheese for some godawful reason?”
“Little Pigeon, that joke has not been funny for twenty years. And before that you lived here, I might add.”
“Well, I haven’t been in any position to be referred to as Little Pigeon for thirty, so there’s that. How are things, Auntie?”
“Going well. I had a productive evening, my publisher is being cooperative, and your mother has left me alone since last time I told her off.”
“I wish I knew how you did that. I just called to let you know I’m settling in. Semper Fido is shedding up a storm, Bruce thinks my decorative sense is just too bland and sensible, Pol seems to particularly enjoy the new newspaper—”
“And Hier will hush before I have to hear about the mental and emotional wellbeing of all his peculiar animals. I know you’re busy, but when you have a minute, I have a job for you.”
“Oh? I’m all attention.”
“Do you remember the editor we sent your last translations through? He’s interested in continuing a line of translated childrens’ books. He’ll be mostly employing trained translators, but you have a flair for it. If you want to try your hand at a large scale project, I can get you in. And any friends you have with similar interests, especially if they’re fluent in something less than standard.”
“Sounds lovely, Auntie, but I wish you wouldn’t insinuate that I have friends. What do you think he’d say to a full series translation of Freddy the Pig?”
“I think you greatly overestimate your own downtime, but such has always been true, Little Pigeon. Try your hand at it. The hope of this project is to capture tone and style rather than just exact word-for-word translation. Nothing turns children off like a babelfish translation.”
“Yes’m. I know the spiel. Maybe I’ll be able to do some German work, too.”
“How long have you been studying German and can still barely speak a sentence?”
“Three years. But you know, just casually. I’ll buckle down someday. Maybe I’ll surprise Papa on his wedding day. He’s always been annoyed that he lost his first language.”
“Allow me a moment to be horrified. Your father is getting married? The man is sixty-four, terminally irresponsible, and several pints short of a gallon.”
“And I have a brother, apparently. Life is just so very interesting.”
“Hier, should you ever grow to resemble either of your parents, I will disown you.”
“I love you too, Auntie. Should I let you get back to work?”
“You should let me get to bed. I’m an old lady.”
“Were you up all night again?”
“And stop being so damn perceptive, young man. Goodnight.”
Swimming groggily back to the present, Hier smiled. In a strange way, he did feel loved. He’d never blamed his parents for being themselves, and it was nice to hear from everyone. Nice to know they cared that he was setting up in a
Bruce clambered over, taking advantage of a few small animal ladders Hier had set up for him once he realized his poor familiar was going to have issues getting around. Why are you still awake?
“Because… sleep is boring,” he muttered out loud. He was just too pleased with himself, the day, the job, the city, the world to succumb to wandering aimlessly through his own subconscious. He eventually did drop off, elderly retriever sprawled over his shins and kiwi nestled under his chin, to dream of prehistoric reptiles and pie.