A Little Quiet Time
Characters: Wren and Chester Setting: Order of the Loom Commune, years ago
It took him a little while to find her, out by the old oak tree atop the hill overlooking the commune. It was a bright summer’s day, and the spreading branches of the tree made a cool, breezy spot. He had been away for a couple of days, taking care of the latest delivery for the commune - and he always made a point of bringing her back a present. Nothing huge. Certainly nothing expensive - he didn’t really have money of his own. Just a token. He liked to see her smile.
Wren had been casting bones beneath the tree, evidence of such on a soft cloth in front of her as she sat with her legs folded beneath her skirt. When she first noticed Chester approaching, she'd pretended not to until he was right there. Then she looked up, a beaming smile on her face. She knew she wasn't supposed to have favorites. That everyone in the Order was just as special as everyone else, with the exception of Brian.
But she couldn't help the fact that she missed him when he was gone. The days always seemed to drag on so much longer when he was off on business. She never knew how long he might be out, and he preoccupied her thoughts often. No, she wasn't meant to have a favorite person, but deep down she liked spending time with him more than anyone in her entire world. Wren felt like she didn't have to be The Prophet when it was just the two of them.
"Thought there was a reason The Fool showed up this morning." she told him. It was her own little attempt at a joke. Every time he came back she mentioned the card appearing in the morning's first reading. Even if she was teasing, however, her smile and its genuine nature completely sold out any real indication she was being disrespectful.
Chester laughed and mocked out a little caper, before throwing himself down beside her. “That would be me - your fool,” he said, plucking a strand of grass and twisting it around his fingers. His comment was light, almost off hand - she could take it how she would, much like most of his comments and compliments to her. He meant all of them, but because he meant all of them, he refused to put her in a difficult position. Instead, he kept things, open and friendly. In his opinion, she needed a friend. Someone who would treat her like a normal human being, rather than the unfair and idiotic ‘prophet’ they had made her become. That, however, was one opinion he kept very firmly to himself. She believed she was what they had made her be and it would only upset her right now if he tried to convince her otherwise. Chester hated seeing her upset. “Did you miss me?” he asked her instead, leaning back against the tree, the picture of relaxation.
Wren made the attempt to sober her expression, even if she liked when he said things like that. Which again, she knew was wrong, and she did make attempts to feel neutrally about, but it didn't quite work out for her. She made a show of thinking about whether or not she'd missed him, humming slightly to herself as she contemplated the bones in front of her. But she couldn't keep it up for very long, nudging her shoulder ever so slightly against his. "The days were long, with many, many hours added to their duration, while you were away." she told him. She always came up with a way to tell him that she had, without outright emphatically shouting 'yes!'. "I can only assume you were lost without my guidance." she said in a lightly teasing manner as well, which really only came out around him. It had been a long way getting there, where she felt like she could be playful at all, but she was there now. She could even joke about her position in the order of things.
“Oh, completely lost,” he agreed, deadpan. “In fact, I’m surprised I found my way back here at all. At one point, I couldn’t even remember my own name,” he added, then wished immediately he hadn’t - it was treading too close to the line for his liking. “But, here I am. And time can now resume its usual speed. All will be right with the world,” he added, moving quickly on.
She laughed, again nudging her shoulder against his. "Out of everyone in the world, you probably need my guidance the absolute least." she told him. Which she actually did believe was true. Chester was different. In a whole host of ways, some she couldn't even put her finger on. But he wasn't like everyone else. It wasn't just in the way he treated her differently. Possibly it was a confidence in him that she trusted. Some of the commune members could barely cross from their houses to the barn without consulting her. Chester didn't come running to her for readings, he came to talk to her. It was nice. Being around him was easy, so much less pressure than anyone else.
She hadn't even realized she felt the pressure until she was around someone who didn't place it on her shoulders.
Wren played with one of the bracelets on her wrist, telling herself to stop being silly. Because she could feel it in herself, even, an anticipation. She would never outright ask him what he'd brought for her this time, just in case there came a time where he didn't have a trinket for her. But she was waiting for one regardless. He always brought her something. And she treasured every last thing, and knew where each and every one of them were. Some internal instinct had her not putting them together, even if they belonged together in her mind. So there was a pretty purple crystal in the kitchen, an anklet that was in among the others she wore, little bits and pieces he'd brought for her were strewn throughout her home, instead of all sitting together.
He knew she would be waiting. They had known each other long enough now, and he’d been bringing her things regularly enough that he could read it in her posture, a subtle change in the way she held herself. He made her wait, just for a little while. Just sitting there, quietly, plucking another couple of strands of grass and braiding them with deft, calloused fingers until he had a long strand. Once it was done, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small paper bag. Opening it, he tipped its contents into the palm of his hand, knowing she would be watching him as he did so.
The bag had held a smoothly polished stone, little more than a large pebble. There was a hole through the middle, and through this hold, whilst she watched, Chester threaded the braid of grass, creating an impromptu pendant for her. He tried not to think too hard on it. On the fact that, when he’d first started this habit, the presents had been nic nacks - crystals, shells, the odd small toy. As time went by, he had progressed far more in the jewellery direction, even if today’s gift could be taken either way. “The man in the store said the river created it that way - with the hole through the middle and everything,” he told her as he dangled it between them by the braid, for her to take. He wasn’t sure he believed it, that the hole wasn’t man made, but he figured it would appeal to her.
It was possible Wren made a little girlish sound as she looked at the beautiful stone he produced. Watching his every move with rapt attention, she even bounced one knee a tiny bit without realizing she was doing so. When he held it out, she reached out to take it, her smile giving away just how much she liked it. "It's beautiful!" she told him genuinely. She meant it, absolutely, though really Chester could bring her anything and she'd love it.
She did, however, immediately pause to attach it to one of the braided thread necklaces she wore around her neck. Shifting to face him slightly more, she fussed with her hair slightly, before looking to his eyes, seeking approval. "How does it look?" she asked, telling herself his assessment didn't mean more than anyone else's even if it absolutely did. It was odd for her, how she felt the need to do little things like arrange her hair and the like when he was near. She didn't fuss like that around others.
He smiled softly at her for a moment as he looked her over. “Yeah, beautiful,” he said, phrasing it like a confirmation of her own opinion. He held her eyes for a second, looking away before the moment could stretch on too long. “I’m glad you like it.”
Wren liked when he said things like that. Certainly, he was talking about the pendant, but she was glad it met with his approval. She smiled, a blush touching her cheeks even if she couldn't exactly pick out why. She looked down with a smile on her lips that she was almost trying to hide without success. She meant to say 'I do.' in response to his appreciating that she liked his gift, but that wasn't what came out of her mouth. "I'm glad you're back." was what was uttered. There was a subtle, nearly imperceptible change to her tone when she said it. It was softer. Lighter. She'd missed him. Sometimes she felt like when he was gone, that not only were the days longer, but she felt like the world was heavier. She had no idea why, and she hated that it felt like that at all--it seemed like a betrayal of her people--but it seemed like as the years went by, it got just a sliver worse each time.
He didn’t have a response to that which would be acceptable to voice, so he left it hanging between them. He was glad to be back as well, he always was. He missed her more than he would ever say, which really was part of the reason behind the gifts. It gave him some way to think about her when he was gone, a connection. Often he would buy them early and keep them with him until he gave them to her. Other times, he would spend what free time he had, looking for just the right thing, deciding what she would want. What she would like. He hadn’t been wrong yet.
She let the silence stretch on for a few moments, not because she had nothing to say, but she needed to give herself a second to feel less like she wanted to hug him. And it wasn't that she never had, or she wasn't allowed. Affection was just fine between members, encouraged, even. She just knew that when she gave him a hug it felt different than when she hugged other people, and she still needed to work out why that was. It wasn't meant to be like that. She struggled with it. But in the end, she managed to walk herself past the emotions she didn't have the ability to properly handle. "So, what was it like out there this time?" she asked tentatively. "I asked about you, but the readings were fuzzy." she admitted. They often were, and she never could understand why.
He made no comment on the readings. He never did, not unless it was unavoidable. “It went well. We were in a town, about five hundred miles away. It was small, not too busy - you would have liked it there,” he told her, suggesting the way he did on occasion, that maybe she could have a life outside the commune. He never said anything more than that, never pushed. He also never told her much detail about the places he knew she wouldn’t like - the larger towns, the cities. She would never do well in that kind of a setting. But a small, quiet town with a good sense of community, he could imagine her there. “There was a small park in the centre of town. The men we were meeting with got held up for a couple of days - that’s why I was gone so long this time. So, I spent the time in the park, mostly. I played my guitar for passersby, and watched the children playing on the swingset and the slide.”
Wren smiled as she listened. She liked when he told her stories about the places he'd been. She sometimes wished she could go with, see something out there. The memories she had of being outside the commune when she was a child were distant and indistinct, nothing solid. They were based more around emotions, smells and sounds rather than imagery. The world she only vaguely remembered had seemed like a loud, rushing place that she didn't long to revisit, but he seemed to find places that weren't like that. She liked the idea of a small place. And of course, she had to smile because she liked when he played his guitar, so she assumed everyone else in the world would like that too. "I'm sure everyone appreciated hearing you play." she said with confidence. "Were there many children?" she asked. There were not many at the commune. She rather liked children, but didn't often get to spend time with them.
He nodded. “Yes, lots - especially just after school was out. They would come to the park with their parents, and the children would play whilst the adults sat on benches and talked. Then, one by one, they would leave. Go home, for dinner. To spend time as a family. After that, later on, the park would be mostly empty again.”
Not quite understanding why, Wren felt a little sad about that. It was a mixed emotion, one that played out on her features as she watched him speaking. Absently, she started to pick at the grass in front of her, combing her fingers through it. "Did you miss us then?" she asked. "When everyone went home and you were so far away from yours?" She didn’t like the idea of him out there, lonely.
“I’m glad to be here,” he told her, giving her a little smile, then a wider one. “But - tell me what I missed, while I was gone,” he prompted, giving her a chance to lead the conversation now.
Wren sighed. It was strange, she almost didn't want to talk about what he'd 'missed'. Which wasn't really all that much. "Daisy's sick." she said, tone sad. Daisy was the dog that tended to follow her around. She was old by now, and was getting ill more often. It wasn't strictly 'her' dog, ownership at the commune was a less prominent concept than other places. And the animals all belonged to everyone. Still, Daisy slept in her home most nights. "Beyond that, Helen still isn't clear on the idea that you can't ask the Fates every five minutes for answers. And if she doesn't like an answer, she can't ask again just to get a different one." she sighed. Talking with Chester was literally the only time she ever got to say anything like this. Most of the time she kept it all to herself, little frustrations that built up, because she was The Prophet. She wasn't meant to have frustrations. Over the years, however, she'd learned that Chester would listen, and he didn't judge her for it. It didn't mean she would sit and complain at length. But it did mean that she occasionally could share a little point of frustration with him. "She was over six times yesterday, continually asking about her husband, and if he was going to return. I feel bad, I know she would like him here. But sometimes people come, and sometimes it does not work out, we all know that. Not everyone who joins us stays. There's only so many ways I can tell her Fate has spoken on the matter."
“Maybe next time I leave, I’ll bring her back a magic eight ball,” he said, with a wink. “It’s just as much use, if she doesn’t believe answers she doesn’t like. Anyway, John’s never coming back - everyone knows that. Well, everyone but Helen.” And Chester knew it better than most.
Wren smiled, but it was a confused one. He'd definitely caught her attention, however, sitting up slightly straighter. "Magic...eight ball?" she asked, the words making sense, just not all together like that.
“It’s a toy,” he explained, deciding that she would take the explanation better that way. He didn’t want it to sound like an insult to her. “It’s a sphere, with a little clear circle at one point. And inside there’s a dice with different answers on. Like ‘it is decidedly so’, ‘most likely’, ‘ask again later’, ‘don’t count on it’ - that sort of thing. Anyway, you ask the ball a question, shake it, and then watch the ‘answer’ come up in the little window. It’s all entirely random, of course, but you can keep asking until you get the answer you want. So, it would seem to fit Helen just about right,” he joked.
The concept was a little fascinating to Wren. "Really? That's...really interesting." she said, giving a little grin. "Next time you go out, could you take a picture of one for me?" she asked, voice a little hushed, like she knew she was asking for something she wasn't allowed to have. She even leaned slightly closer as she asked, as if to avoid anyone overhearing.
He couldn't help but lean in closer himself, giving her a conspiratorial smile. “Next time I go out, I’ll bring you one back for your very own,” he promised her, his voice low. “We’ll find somewhere hidden to put it. Nobody else need know - it’ll be our little secret,” he added. It didn’t need saying that someone who could supposedly predict the future shouldn’t be found having a thing like a magic eight ball. There would be hell to pay.
Wren gave a girlish little giggle, covering her bright smile with one hand. "Oh we will definitely need a secret spot!" she whispered. "Then we can apparently ask the ball questions? Like...?" she prompted, thinking he could probably come up with something ridiculous more than she could.
He happily obliged, saying, “Like - ‘will it rain purple snow this winter?’,” he suggested. “Or maybe... ‘will I grow up to be an alien’. What would you ask it, if you could?” he asked, prompting her to come up with her own sense of the ridiculous. She had one hell of a sense of humour - it was just that this place didn’t give her the chance to exercise it that much.
Wren was sent into more giggles by his questions, and she was grinning, hands covering that smile as she considered her own question. She watched Chester with a bright, happy look in her eyes as she did so. She really never laughed like this when he wasn't around. "Will..." she started, wracking her brain. She didn't want to disappoint. "...will the cows in the barn learn to talk to complain about the smell?" she asked, wrinkling her nose cutely.
“And I dearly hope the answer to that is yes, because then maybe Toby will listen and start organising clean out more often,” he said with a mock sigh. The state of the cowshed was an ongoing topic, between Toby, whose main job was looking after the animals, and half of everyone else, who had to sleep downwind of the smell.
She laughed again, nudging her shoulder against his once more. "Perhaps we should hope they do gain the ability to speak, just so something could be done." she whispered. "This sounds like great fun." she told him. "You promise you'll remember to bring us one?" she asked, since it wasn't like she planned to play with it when he wasn't there.
“I promise.” Though he knew he didn’t need to. He would move heaven and earth to get her one now. “And, in the meantime...” He pushed himself to his feet and turned to offer her his hand. “...We need to find somewhere to put it. Should we go exploring, little bird?”
Wren laughed, and reached up to take his hand, letting him help her to her feet. It was possible she kept hold of his hand ever so slightly longer than she had to. "We should!" she agreed happily. They could go, wander around, look for a good spot, and generally spend some more time together. And the longer she was occupied doing that, maybe the longer it would be before Helen dragged her off for another reading again, or someone else found something they needed her to divine for them. She loved her people, of course, but sometimes? She absolutely cherished her time with Chester, when the only thing that was demanded of her was her presence.