a gift from far away
who: epiphany & noah setting: her place
It had come to her in a dream - the perfect vision of a creation she was moved from sleep to begin assembling. It took her until nearly the end of the entire process, mud coating her hands and knees in their cottage’s backyard, for Piph to realize who this was for. Without regard for the clock on her phone screaming 3:10 in her eyes, she typed out a quick message to Noah and sent it, leaving muddy fingerprints on her phone as she wandered back inside.
I have something for you. Come by today, if you can? And then, minutes later. Just you this time, I think.
Noah still hadn’t gotten back to ‘normal’ life. He knew his mother and grandmother were worried about him, but they had been for a while now. They knew something had happened to him, but he hadn’t been able to explain what, and for now, he was just trying to tell them that he needed time, that he was fine, and he was still in town. He’d check in. He’d been spending most of his time with Lorelei in the shallows, building a dock that mirrored the one that had been present in the other Cut Off, just...getting to know her. Being around her. Internally cataloging every minute difference, and appreciating every one.
He wasn’t asleep when the text came through, as he sat on the partially finished dock, staring up at the stars as he gently stirred the water around him, an absent, idle activity, one that he wasn’t even sure he was consciously doing anymore. His connection with water was stronger than ever, the element clearly catering to him at all times by this point, like a faithful companion that was always looking to help in even the tiniest of ways.
He arched a brow at the text, and laid back, watching the sky get gradually lighter, til he figured it was daylight enough to go see her. He got there as the sun was truly cracking over the horizon, bringing with it the warmth to burn off the slight chill clinging to him. He knocked, and waited.
Through the sound of trance-like music in her living room, Epiphany heard the knock and set her coffee cup to the side to go answer it. She’d cleaned up since her early morning crafting, her long black hair braided now, but there was still a couple flecks of dried mud in the strands as she opened the door and smiled with big, black eyes at Noah.
“You’re here,” She said, happily reaching for Noah’s hand to pull him into their cottage, through the kitchen, and into the backyard. It was a lovingly cultivated mess of herbs and plants, dotting the yard with deep purples and blues, vibrant greens, and cool grays from the rock structures along the edge where she often found insects and lizards. She loved it here.
“Here, sit, sit…” Piph said, guiding Noah to a small, hand-me-down wire cafe patio set, rusted from the elements but charming in its own way. “I have something for you. Or - I made it but I don’t think it’s really from me.”
He let himself be led, noting Vaughn crashed out on the couch, stirring slightly as they walked by, and his eyes popped open for a second before they closed again and he settled, the watch dog apparently okay with the current company. Noah looked around at the sanctuary set up there, thinking it was gorgeous. “What did you make?” he asked, curious. He sat down, eyes ticking everywhere, noting all the color.
As Noah settled, Epiphany gingerly picked up the dream gift, sat down beside him, and placed the windchime in his hands. It wasn’t metal, although there was a section of the yard where she’d started to accumulate pretty scrap metal, but rather constructed out of natural elements. A string of small bones acted as the spine of the piece and it was dotted in varying lengths with other items she’d accumulated from the woods nearby including a near identical raven’s feather as the one in the other chime.
“I can’t be sure but I think someone wanted you to have this.”
He looked at it, and his breath caught in his throat. He blinked hard for a moment, looking it over, fingertips tracing along the soft edge of the feather, noting the details. It wasn’t exact, but damn near. More than close enough that he recognized it, and knew exactly where to hang it back at Lorelei’s. Where the breeze would catch it the best, where it had hung in that other world. “...I… did you get the sense that she was okay?” he asked, voice a little choked, as he fought back emotion.
She was quiet while he held it, wanting to project a steady, even energy as he took in the mobile. Her eyes tended to be dark in the daybreak so even though she was watching him, she hoped it wouldn’t seem like she was staring at him. She didn’t touch him out of reassurance; just sat next to him like a stone in a river.
“Yes,” Piph answered softly. “I could hear whispers on the wind - laughter, heartbeats, soft water, and bone chimes. It was warm and bright and filled with cicada song. I could feel her love, almost like…maybe like it had evolved in some way. But she seemed content, and I think she needed you to know that.”
Tears escaped, and he smiled, giving a little choked laugh at that, something joyful and sad at the same time. “...Good,” he said, drawing in a deep but shaky breath. “Good.” He shut his eyes and just imagined her, stretched out on the dock, maybe watching their child swim around in the waters. He knew time moved differently there than here, and wondered if they’d already been born. He had no idea how this girl connected things, but didn’t need to know. The proof that she did connect them somehow was in his hands. “If you can, will you let her know I’m okay?” he asked, hope in his voice. “...and I don’t suppose you know about a little one?” he asked.
While Piph could never understand exactly what he was going through, she did comprehend the universal languages of pain, grief, and relief. She knew what it meant to feel all things at once, to feel so hurt but so full of absolution too. Clearing her throat, she blinked a few times to keep her own tears at bay because it was hard to sit beside him and not feel the echo of his emotions in herself.
“I’ll do my best,” Piph promised. “She might already know. Maybe why she wants you to have that.” And finally, at the mention of his baby, Piph reached out to cradle the feather in her hand. “His name is Raven.”
He nodded. He could easily see that, that she’d just know. His lost Queen. When he said the name, he smiled, and reached up to wipe at tears, the smile watery but genuine. “Knew it was a little boy,” he said, voice rough, but full of warmth. “Thank you,” he said, finally tearing his eyes away from the feather and up to her strange ones. “I…this was exactly what I needed,” he told her. He hadn’t known he needed it, but he very much had. Something eased in him, settled, an ache, but one that wouldn’t drown him. He could feel soothed, understanding that they were okay.
Piph mirrored his movement, wiping away her own tears, but smiling back at Noah just after. She leaned in and pressed a little kiss to his forehead, something else she’d felt from the dream, and reached out to place her hand on his shoulder. “You’re very loved,” She said gently. “From what I can see, both here and there.” Then she added. “...If it gets hard, you can always come here. It’s not water, but it’s quiet and…stoic. If you need it.”
He shut his eyes and felt her there, like just a heartbeat of a moment, but it was enough. “Thank you,” he said, nodding, and he knew he would very much be here from time to time. “I don’t think I can even tell you what this means to me, but I have a feeling you know,” he said. Something about her, he guessed. That she could just understand. “I…thank you.” He hugged her then, tight and fierce for just a moment.
Piph held him too, protective and beloved, for as long as he would let her. In reply, she simply nodded against his cheek because sometimes words just couldn’t compete. She did understand, to the best of her abilities and about as much as she imagined anyone could. She knew what it was like to live in two worlds, to have to make a choice like he had, and she’d been given the opportunity to flourish here with Vaughn because of it. She wanted that and more for Noah.