EJ Szczepek (kaleidoscopeyez) wrote in summerview, @ 2019-03-31 15:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | complete, oliver pilkington, player: alice, player: declan, sharaab sharma |
There were few things as exciting to Shara as this day, she hadn’t been filled with this much anticipation for something since coming to Summerview, actually. A few weeks of planning culminated in her showing up at the Pilkington home, with a bounce in her toes, a grin on her face and an entire cart of pastries. Because she had felt their property when she first entered the town, felt it raise the hair on the back of her neck and beckon to her, this little slice of home, that radiated magic, family, and Faerie. So strong it felt like a lighthouse.
But she had to focus on getting her own going. Her business. Reaching out to that poor, odd solitary Fae in town, and Sid! The lovely Sid! Shara did so love Satyrs, they always knew how to party and enjoy a good drink.
Pixies too! This town was full of all kinds of fun sorts, who would hopefully, surely, appreciate the barrel of alcohol in the bottom of the cart, that wobbled only slightly as she pulled it to a stop at the front door of the beautiful home. It was Hob made, because no one from her family line would show up to a lovely home like this with anything less, really. It was even past the testing phase, though it was entirely possible that her and Sid were biased towards it, she was still experimenting with creating things here without Summerlands soil beneath her feet, truthfully.
Oh, she was so excited, couldn’t wait to tell Gabrielle about how this went, which was surely going to be amazing. Hopefully she would still get some of these before the Pilkingtons ate all of them, though she had one of her employees deliver some to her home as well. It felt so fulfilling for Shara to have multiple people to feed again, after feeling so limited for the past few months.
More importantly, this was such a wonderful way to walk off her lunch, on lands that felt like home. It was welcoming, but it was distinctively theirs. She could feel their magic under her feet as well as she could feel her family’s back home, and it was so lovely that it made her heart clench painfully in her chest, so very close to what she had been missing the last month or so.
Their less than humble abode was a thing of beauty. It was a monstrosity on the outside, but it hid the Tardis-like genius Forrest had applied to the place once more and more Pilkington siblings moved from the Summerlands to Summerview. It had started as a basic couple of bedroom house with a few bathrooms and a few seating rooms. With roughly 6 people in and out at the time, that had been enough. But with all 10 now residing in the town and occasionally their family members? The mad scientist of the family had gotten to work. Now, it probably radiated magic the way the lights in Vegas or New York were able to light the surrounding areas. But there was no real reason for them to be worried. Partially because they were in a relatively safe place. And partially because Forrest had a habit of changing the layout for fun. Which meant even people who were there often, such as Oliver’s friends, would find themselves lost. Signs were now strung throughout the house to stay put if you were lost. They’d get you eventually. But today, Oliver was not actually in the house. He was outside on the grounds. Today was one of his blessed days off from everything, which was ironic considering he wrote his own schedule. But he had a herd of animals to exercise and play with, so he was outside glowing as a wisp in his small form, flittering through the air as the dogs he adopted chased him. He loved this game. Oliver was fast in this form and agile, so he was able to slip through small blades of grass or branches if the dogs got a bit mouthy, but that was not the case normally. They usually could not catch him. They had been at it for about ten minutes when he felt the approach of another fae spirit and flew up out of jumping range of the dogs, which caused the dozen of them to sit below where he hovered with varying levels of whining and their tails wagging along the ground with excitement. He spotted the hob and smirked. He liked Shara. Actually, he did not know anyone who didn’t like Shara. He hovered a bit longer to see what she was doing on her way toward their house. It was a path that trekked far enough into the trees to make it obvious that she was approaching their place with intent. That and the lovely lady had a wagon dragging behind her. That was also a hint. He cocked his head to the side and watched a moment longer until she reached the gate before popping back into his larger form in stride. He walked by bench he left his clothes on and grabbed his briefs and headed over with his jeans and shirt slung over his arm and a trail of dogs following him with heads cocked and tails wagging. “Good day,” he called out with a cheery smile and a wave of the other hand. Now that he thought about it, Ellie had told him she may be talking with him about a thing. The what had slipped his mind, clearly, but at least he now had an idea. And there was a lot worse on this island than the local hob slinging by with a wagon of who knows what. “What brings you to our end of town?” he paused and the gate to open it with a low creak before stepping into his jeans and cinching up his belt. The sight of Oliver had Shara lighting up, not that she was ever particularly morose looking, but her default of pleased as punch to be here had already been turned up to beaming with where she was and her purpose for being here. “Well met on this wonderful afternoon, Oliver!” She waved at him as he stepped through the gate, fighting the impulse to drop the handle of her cart and open her arms for a hug. Living in such close quarters with her family — and being the drinking sort — had made her, like many Hobs, more affectionate than some Fae. So the habit of not assuming that it as welcome was already part of her and easy enough to carry into the human world. Normally she might’ve asked him during his previous visits to the bakery, but somehow she had always been behind the counter. “I have come for your assistance on a bit of a quest on the recommendation of a mutual friend of ours,” A few steps to the side of the cart made it easier for her to push it towards him with a wide ta da! gesture, “So I brought treats!” Well, honestly, she would have brought treats no matter the reason for her visit. That sort of thing was customary in both their homeland and this one, but that wasn’t the point was it? Hopefully, she hadn’t picked a bad day to come by, but she already wouldn’t mind an excuse for another visit, truthfully. This place was just buzzing with life, and she felt like her soul was recharging just being here. Oliver’s smile was brilliant now at her call. It was so strange to hear such classic and kind greetings passed in their direction. Partially because those who were in the overworld where such traditions were overlooked or it was more solitary fae who lived here. The other reason was there had been little desire to be so formal with the family back in the Summerlands. The wilds were not known for standing upon ceremony. Of course, he was not totally useless in this, he purposefully ignored such things for the most part. They were the crazy neighbors people sort of said a vague hello to them and scurry away as fast as possible before something blew up out of nowhere. It was nice to have someone look at him and not see a crazy person who was maybe overly psychotic. So, the pixie opened the gate and wrapped his arms around the hob’s shoulders. He pulled away with a twinkle in his eyes. “Ellie said thing about you wanting to stop by a tick, yeah,” Oliver confirmed. His gaze lit up as it fell on the gifts. There was a slight shake to his head as he registered that she probably had enough of whatever she had brought to feed the siblings as a whole, not just Oliver. After all, it was not right to only give gifts to one person of a house home to many. Ollie smirked, not bothering with the denying she needed to anything. Instead, there was an exasperation to his smile and a shake of the head. “Blessed be those who don’t forget their manners. Come in,” he opened the door. “The dogs will leave everything be. Come along. What can I help with?” His upturned accent chipped along as he spoke. His loping gait led them and their merry trail of dogs following along the walkway to the house. It was somehow both overgrown and wild and tidy and neat. The house itself was a deep shade with bright white molding and doors and a wrap-around porch. There was a fine line in tradition and ceremony simply for the sake of it, going through the motions until it had no heart, and remembering a bit of the old ways to keep one’s history alive — show other people how much you cared with the effort you were willing to put in. That was one of the reasons some of her recipes still had longer steps and processes than they strictly needed to, it wasn’t always about the end result, but the process. Food had a special meaning for her sort though. Oliver was her equal, yes, but he had also been here longer than her, and this was his home, you’d meet fewer(if any) that respected house and home more than a Hob, so there was a certain level of respect in her voice and shoulders, even if it was cushioned by her usual Shara-ness. All that, however, didn’t stop her from returning hug, that sort she was becoming known for, with the warmth of one of her ovens and the comfort of her favorite quilt, pulling back with a fond look more meant for a nephew that had grown since his last visit rather than a near-stranger. Such a nice young man, and so kind on her first visit! Her eyes darted around, a grin on her lips as she greeted the dogs as well, holding out her unoccupied hand for them to sniff, “What beautiful, well-behaved beasts you are! Why, my brothers, sisters and I were never this civilized when presented with unexpected treats!” And wasn’t that a fact, bunch of mayhem-causing hoodlums they were even when sober. Oliver complimented her manners, but that didn’t stop her from peering around them with undisguised interest, head tilting this way and that to take in the sights, hand leaving the dogs to reach out and touch any decorations or flowers that were within reach. Nosiness was as much a vice as alcohol for Shara, possibly worse, really, at least the latter made her fun and giggly. “Ellie thought you might be of assistance, I think I would like a cat. I am, I confess, quite unused to living alone.” He had always been a bit friend. Maybe even too friendly. Oliver never really saw much point in assuming that was possible. After all, he had a decent read on people so long as he got a look right into their eyes. And he was generally good at making friends. A hint of persuasiveness and a touch of apparently having a trustworthy face and Oliver was primed for making people like him as well. And trust him. Or, as his siblings would say, making people think they could get more out of him and that he was a push over. But he was good at being surprising as well. And while he and Shara were not having brunch on Sunday mornings, discussing their lives, loves, and losts over mimosas and a warmly toasted BLT, he knew her well enough from experience and the word on the street (the good word on the street, not the ones that also thought that Vampires could in theory sparkle like pixies) all pointed to her being a wonderful person. And therefore, worthy of hugs. “Yeah,” he agreed by means of a thanks for the compliment, which shone in his too-green eyes. “They were mostly on the kill list. Apparently all untrainable and unsavable yet…” he let the sentence trail off with a wide arm motion to signify how they were all well-behaved. With that, he gave a smirk and pulled his plain shirt over his head and smoothed it out. A lot of the tameness was not Oliver but maybe a bit of where they were living. He knew that animals were more perceptive of their kind and read their energy better than humans did. Probably something in the “more developed brain” that blocked off the ability to see more than what meets the eye. Called “education” and “growing up” if his interactions with children said anything. Much like the landscaping. Oliver was not one who was in touch with the more nature side. He was an illusionist and a perceptionist. “Ah,” he replied as he pushed open the door. “One… second.” He had to adjust himself to whatever his siblings who were home had done to the house. It had felt different, and finding the right hall to the right door that led to a stairwell leading somewhere productive would take a moment. With a path in his mind, he smiled brightly again and jerked his head slightly toward the open threshold as an invitation. “That I can definitely help you out with. So long as I am headed the right way. We could end up in the basement where the cats are or… I could be leading you to the laundry room. Who knows.” His voice was bright with like a childish sense of wonder at the mad house he was bringing her into. “I remember striking out on my own the first time. It was terrible. Nothing worse than sudden silence.” One of the dogs, as adorable and probably well meaning as he was, still did crane his head up to sniff at the cart, and received a raised eyebrow for his trouble. His only response was twitching ears and a tilted head, as if hoping having her focus meant affection in the near future. And it did, because sometimes it was fun to be a softie, steps pausing again to pet him along with the others that clamored for attention before she laughed, “Oh wait the — “ Her eyes widened as she looked from Oliver to the dogs, going through the whole thing once more, “How were they unsaveable? I’ve seen worse in the hearts of those I had to feed than in these creatures.” It was a question that even she knew, rationally, could not be answered by either of them. Shara may be new to these lands, but she wasn’t as utterly naive as some people thought. And in the defense of those people, she may have laid it on a bit thick here and there. Luckily, her merry mood wasn’t far, especially with him so close, though she found herself laughing again, this time at her host (though not unkindly), “Most people on this side of things seem to remove more clothing as they come inside, not the opposite, are these cats so dangerous you must protect yourself?” Because it had occurred to her that some might have been flustered or out of sorts by his state of dress, or lack thereof, when she arrived, but, well, she wasn’t exaggerating when she said she had met a handful of Satyrs in her time and thought of them fondly. It seemed the more tied to nature and merriment one was the less important clothes seemed to be. Admittedly, once they were in the entryway, Oliver and his words faded to the background, both of her hands releasing the cart and the dogs so she could reach out and touch the walls, ”Oh,” She breathed, voice full of wonder and elation, “This home loves you and your family very much Oliver, she thrives and is so well crafted.” Surely to some she looked like a madwoman, cooing softly to walls, eyes lit up like a child the first time they saw snow, but she had goosebumps, and the house was an excellent judge of character — as they always were — and if she wasn’t already fond of this family and Ellie then she would be now. An outright giggle, as she felt the house show off all the lovely individual magics that ran through these walls like a peacock showing off his feathers, “Now now beautiful, I’m here to get a friend or two, you won’t lead us astray will you?” Her eyes darted back to Oliver and an embarrassed smile crossed her features, “Oh, I’m terribly sorry I got distracted I just, you house! But yes, please, lead on.” He nodded solemnly and ruffled his ruddy locks. They stuck out at a few weird angles as they dried from the sweat built up by darting around as a wisp. His lips were drawn in a thin line, but edges were ticked upward as if in a sad smile at the thought of those he had not gotten to in time. They had computers in the house and he haunted Craigslist like a hoarder to see if another animal popped up on the list. He knew it was puppy and kitten season coming soon, and they were already making preparations. For the most part, the animals in the house were not named. Only the ones they were keeping for themselves. Each had a click or a whistle specific to them, but as faes, they all felt the name was important. “Most of them are just not as cute as the others or old. Some have shown aggression or have bitten people. They just need the right love and energy like anyone else.” Oliver looked down at the swarm of happily wagging tails and smiled brightly before laughing at her statement. “Partially I have been in this world too long to parade my bits about in front of guests and part entering the house, it is wisest to be as covered as possible. And not because of the cats.” He meant it as a joke. But was not joking in the slight. Accidents happened when 10 older, hyper, and magical beings lived in one dwelling and had for over a decade after all. They all got bored. Inside the door, even a step he could tell the house was welcoming to Shara. Not shocking, as hobs were domestic and this was a family-oriented domicile. The walls of the main hall were still the same deeper neutral tone he had left them in. Unlike most first entry, there was no tell-tale sign of the fun house effect where the walls or floor tilted. That boded well for this trip if the house was not trying to trip the fae out. When she complimented the house, Oliver smiled again, just as broadly. “My brother is the caretaker. He’s always been great with this sort of thing.” It was another accepting of a kind word and his eyes once more glowed in appreciation. “They all work more on the house. My job is make sure everyone is fed.” He was not the only cook in the house, but he was the one who was up the earliest without fail. And tended to wake everyone else up with the proclamation of what was for breakfast. He watched as she looked around in wonder before giving a gentle chuckle. “Aye, she enjoys attention. And I’m sure all compliments feed back to Forrest either way, so.” He looked down the hall and licked his lips. “Let’s try door number four, shall we?” He too a few long strides to the fourth door, first on the right and opened it. To a wall. He sighed and shut it. Waited a moment. Then opened it again. The stairwell leading to the cat’s room was there. “Looks like your application for adoption has been approved, Shara.” And with that he turned on the lights and trotted down the stairs. The thought that some of the animals were unwanted because they weren’t as cute or aesthetically pleasing as others made more sense to her than not wanting one on account of them needing a little extra love. The Fae were known for loving beautiful things though her particular line were not known to be exceptional in that way, she couldn’t deny being drawn to things that were lovingly, meticulously crafted as well. Humans, like their Fair counterparts, could be rather vain and shallow, which was dismaying considering how short their lives were. One would think their priorities would be better aligned. It almost made Shara sad that she couldn’t have a dog, but she had read enough about them to know that they were better suited for a home with someone who could spend a great deal of time with them — preferably outside. That was something she couldn’t promise, not now and possibly not ever. Shara needed to work. It wasn’t just in her raising, it was in her blood. Besides, the Fae had a special connection with cats. It was fate, really. “Your brother may be the caretaker, but she adores all of you.” There was a special spark of kinship in her eyes when he said that it was his job to keep everyone fed, and she could feel the house agree with him. Oliver was vital to the family, and down to her core, Shara respected that more than just about anything. That, and a strong constitution. She didn’t bother to hide the giggle when the door failed the first time, and a victorious clap when it worked, “Oh marvelous!” A few steps towards the doorway before she stopped suddenly, looking torn, glancing back to the cart, the door, the dogs, and all over again. Bugger. Casting Magic on your first visit to someone’s home was considered rude at minimum, but dogs. So she decided to take her chances, placing her hand on the cart, finding that her magic came to her even easier than it normally did, and the smell of paprika and fresh out of the oven brownies rose up when she trailed a finger across the handle, her mother’s favorite nursery rhyme under her breath. It glowed a soft green, like a blanket wrapped around it, and the dogs stepped back, heads cocked to the side curiously but giving it a wide berth. With that she turned, darting back to catch up with Oliver, hands picking up the skirts of her sundress so she didn’t just fall down the stairs, “May I ask why the cats are kept down here?” Was this a cat thing? Or just a mortal world thing? Oliver made it work. He and the rest of them, really. They liked the chaos of the animals in the house. And it pained him to know animals were being put down when they had plenty of space for them all. And the siblings could just aid in expanding the rooms and internal space to fit more if they need to. But luckily, it seemed they had a steady supply of people looking for a pet. And after a few months at the Pilkington place, they were all able rehabilitate those who were more skittish or aggressive. Most of the time, the residents were more than happy to rehome these dogs from the kill list than anything else. And the fact that he didn’t charge people helped. He just wanted these animals to go to good home. And used the house and his own high perception to decide if they pass or fail. “I hope so, we have been here for almost 15 years,” he replied simply and ran his long fingers along the door jam fondly. It was a lot like the house back in the wilds Puck still owned and lived in. That house had long gone feral, though. As untamed as their part of the Summerlands with the walls made up of natural material as the forests overtook the area and their construction from centuries gone by. He missed the way most the archways in the house were twisting vines and branches. The house here was slowly letting it happen, as the garden was melding into the forest around them. He caught the tingle in the base of his spine that told him magic not from his family was being cast and he turned to get a nose full of her rich scent. It was painfully fitting of a hob and it cause a warmness to reach his eyes. Then, he chuckled at the confused looks on the dogs’ faces. He gave a series of noises that lightly clicked down to the smallest one before telling them to head out back. The dogs whined, waited, then trotted off down the hall. He had a feeling one of his siblings passed by. “Oh,” he blinked owlishly for a moment. Then his eyes glowed with the hint of a secret. One that looked like fun. “You’ll see,” he replied with a playfulness in his voice as he made his way down the stairs. They were not normal stairs--they lacked a full backing and were more floating stairs. And as they were low enough to look over the partial wall, the basement was mostly refitted as a playhouse for the animals as a lounge. There were a few couches and chairs strewn about in different styles and fabrics. Tables of varying lengths and heights. All along the walls and ceiling were built in ledges and bridges for the cats to use as they pleased, boxes to sleep on or in, a few holes in the wall that were pull-out litter boxes and a few towering cat towers that went from floor to top and branched out. All along the the ledges and couches were roughly a dozen cats sprawled out. “Welcome to the cat room?” “Is that a long time, for this world? For your family?” It was an honest question, well intended even if odd. Back home she knew Pixies who had made their homes in the Hollows of trees that Oberon himself originally created, generations spanning through its roots in a forest that teemed with life. Others who were almost migratory, as flighty and whimsical as some of the ‘fairytales’ she had read here. She didn’t know if Oliver was the type to prefer one or the other, or if living here had changed he and his kin like it had many. Personally, Shara had both never understood those who moved from home to home, while also somehow simultaneously envying them all at once. A phenomenon she didn’t understand even now, “I hope to stay here for a long time myself. Though I miss having family nearby, I have distant relatives on this side by way of my sister.” She informed him almost off handedly, contrasting with the relieved smile that he wasn’t angry at her for casting some minor protection magic on the cart. Shara, like many of her family line, had been known to overstep more than once. But she compensated heavily with sweets, and it usually balanced out. Her eyes took in every detail as they walked down to the basement, head turning with curiosity, nearly wobbling an losing her balance when she leaned to the side to peer at the stairs with interest, almost as animated as her host. Of course, architecture was the last thing on her mind when they finally reached the bottom and she gasped, “Titania, look at this place!” Honestly, she wasn’t sure where to look at first, the decorations — a thing she would probably have to mimic in some way — the cats, the furniture, or just where she stepped to make sure she didn’t hurt anyone, “Why, I feel it would almost be cruel to take one away from here.” “Oh, for us here,” he replied brightly, lips still ticked upward and bright. “We haven’t lived together in decades, and we were pretty spread across the countries and realms for a bit. We moved here, and yeah. Our house in the Wilds has been with us for…. A millennium at least.” It had been Puck’s father first. He had finally given himself back to the realm after almost three thousand years of existence. Puck was not far behind, but with every new magic and culture for their world found or developed, the man found a zest for life. It was wonderful. He was the father of at least two dozen pixies over a few centuries of time. His place was constantly buzzing with family, so only having between 10 and 13 members of the Pilkingtons in the area was shocking. And a bit lonely, but the siblings were close enough to make it better. He loved living with them all, no matter how odd their world may seem to others. “It’s wonderful here,” Oliver admitted. “We were in California for a while and I moved on a whim twice. Wonderful experiences, but I am happy here now.” His eyes were bright with the fond memories now. But it took a while for him to not think back on leaving New York with anger or sourness. He had never wanted to stop performing, but now he was glad he got away when he did. The emergence of technology a decade later and then the internet would have ruined him. And by then, he would have been more attached to the life. He was able to play in a garage band and become a trained and at one time licensed mixologist. Oliver knew it was worth it in the end. Life played out for a reason, after all. And he now had a wonderful dance partner in Ellie and taught at the school. It all worked out. “Perhaps more can join you here once you are settled.” The pixie was beaming now with that declaration. The family had done a lot to decorate this room and where they had the dogs at night, so they were entertained. Nothing was more destructive than a bored animal. A lot of it he was not able to take credit for, but the team effort apparently helped. But, to her statement, he cocked his head like a confused puppy and blinked a few times. “I think it is just as important for them to have a place of their own as it is someplace to spread out.” He shrugged and bowed his head in compliance, though. It was a compliment, and not one he would deny. “We are a bit ‘extra’ with things, I think. The bowling alley is proof enough. Please. Meet them all.” They had more in common than she realized then, if Ollie and his family had also lived in an ancestral home for a long time like she had. Now though she already wanted to really sit down with the rest of his siblings to see how different they were from one another, wondering how much was just them and how much was the time they had spent apart. “What made you come together again after such a long time apart?” Well, it wasn’t such a long time, especially for them, but for her, who had always been close with her siblings, it sounded like a big gap. And something had to happen to bring them all back, right? Or maybe not. Pixies could be rather whimsical that way, a thing which she envied them for, frankly. The town having his approval was more assuring than she expected, considering she was already growing fond of it and hardly knew Oliver well at all. In fact, she wasn’t sure what she would have done if he had been iffy about the island, or her presence on it. After all, there were traditions about such things, but that was back home, not here. Though he didn’t seem to have any issues, so it was a moot point. “I only stopped in California briefly, I nearly stayed. It was quite lovely, but I don’t know. I prefer small towns.” Not for the geography, or the easy walking distance for everything, though that was nice, but for the community aspect of it. There was a Sanctuary City in California, it was up north away from San Francisco and the like, but it still managed to be far more bustling than Summerview. Too much for her. “I would like that. Would keep me from trying to adopt every lost looking person that wandered into the Bakery.” Shara gave a laugh at herself, even if it’s not a habit she was particularly ashamed about or aimed to change. Shara took a few steps back so she was leaning against the wall before she slid down so she could sit on the floor, legs criss crossed in front of her so she was comfortable and non-threatening at once. “Well I’d be happy to share my space with one or two of them, if they’ll have me.” Even though she were mortal based animals instead of magical ones, she still wasn’t overly fond of the thought of owning one, exactly, but one choosing and sharing her space sounded better to her ears, “I need to visit the bowling alley. If I stopped by would you be able to play a game with me, or are you too busy?” Even though she was talking to him, quietly, her eyes were on the cats who were also watching her, as well as the hand she extended towards them patiently. “Hrm?” Oliver hummed in question to her question. He blinked owlishly at her for a moment before what she asked hit him again. “Oh, we had issues with another clan to settle. In case the courts were not able to settle it, my family needed all the lads and lasses back. Thankfully, it was not really needed and we all came back. That’s when the rest of the siblings came over. Came here not long after.” He smiled. It made coming back exciting. Before, when it was just a few of them, it had been quiet and lonely. And he was prone to impulsive desires, which was how he had ended up in Chicago. And New York. At least with more siblings, someone could stop him. “We found a few dryad communities,” Oliver offered with a smile. They had been so nice. And excited to have pixies. He did smile more when she said the idea of her family joining them would be great. He got it. And he hoped that would work out for her. And he knew that not everyone would be okay with a stranger deciding they were family. For him, that sounded lovely. He was sure the rest of the siblings would be happy to let the hob do that to all of them. However, they were eccentric. And the strong bonds and communities does not ring true with everyone. “You can sit on the couches. It’s where we go when we want to see them,” Oliver offered. He crossed over to the one with a plush throw over it. He figured one of the siblings had slept in the room overnight. His eyes looked up and around at the cats, They watched the two in the room with mild interest, a few were more friendly or curious, like the tabby cats. The old boy with the ripped ear was happily ignoring them all for a nice stretch, though. Oliver gave a bright laugh when she asked if he would be able to bowl. “I am a terrible bowler,” he admitted. “I am sure even if I can’t play a full round, we can cycle through. Just don’t expect anyone to be talented.” Well, a familial dispute certainly made sense. Grudges and the like were possibly worse for the Fae than they were for the humans, easier to accumulate insults to one's honor when acquaintances could go on for centuries, they seemed to over analyze words as part of a blood trait and all of which were never forgotten. Pixies especially seemed to wear more on their sleeve, more like Hobs and less like their calmer Seelie cousins, so no wonder. “Well I’m glad no one got hurt in the process, and something good came of it.” Shara gestured to the house, though she met their togetherness more than anything. Her eyes lit up at the mention of Dryads, “Oh! I hope they were all as wonderful as McKenna. I would love to be in a whole town full of Kennas.” Who was her first Dryad she had really gotten to know since coming over five years ago, who had set a far too high bar for the rest of her folk, honestly. Again, her fingers reached up to skin the walls like anyone else would give affection to a cat rather than something that would not give an obvious response to most observers, “But there is no home like your home, right?” Shara nearly declined, said she was happy to stay on the floor, close to their level, but decided at the last moment to heave herself up instead. It seemed best to follow his direction, since he knew what he was doing and happened to be going out of his way to do something kind for her. No reason to be disrespectful after all. Though she kept a close eye on the cats as she walked to the couch, she had seen television, she knew how they liked to trip up people in cartoons, thank you very much. Finally she was seated, neatening her skirts while she focused and yet tried not to focus on the cats around them, “What? How can you be a terrible bowler when you work at a bowling alley? Is it a terribly challenging game?” Oliver’s smile was tight-lipped for once. His bright eyes and teeth closed off for a flash before opening back up. He hated that they needed to defend their territory. That they all had to go back. He had held that anger in him for a while, enough to spur a punk band into a mild amount of popularity in San Francisco. His anger and energy fueled their songwriter, after all. But he looked around when Shara motioned the house and remembered how it all did work out. Their situation was settled (for now) in the Summerlands, and the kids were alright. “Me too,” he replied, and his smile was back—big and bright. It was easier to be happy now knowing what happened, but his kind were notoriously emotional and mildly (heavily) prone to overreacting. He was no different. “I actually have a picture of me with a baby Kenna,” Oliver replied brightly. He had known the Jones when they were in Bear Creek. He left not long after they moved south, and his sister had stayed in contact with their father. When they were looking for a place out East and away from the fires, she had told them about Summerview, as they had been in the area for years. “They’re not all as chipper, but it was nice. So much positivity and family there. I really think you’d like seeing a commune if you can find one.” He knew of a few water and earth-based communes in the area, as well. It was fun to spend time around people so connected to nature. He smiled and looked over the cats, who were now taking notice of the humans in their domain. One of the younger ones was peering down from her perch on the tree in the center of the room. At her question, Oliver laughed. He had heard that question a lot. Most of the time, that was the first thing people assumed. He had set up a bowling alley, he must enjoy it or be good at it. That could not be farther from the truth. “I run the bar in a bowling alley, and I love bartending.” He explained. The pixie pushed off the wall where he had leaned and sat down on one of the chairs. His eyes looked at the ones gazing back now and smirked at their swishing tails—they were curious. “We did the bowling alley because one of us thought it would be fun. All the energy and commotion. Machines to fix and run, food to cook, people to entertain and help with. And there was enough to do that all of us could work together for it so. It seemed to fit. But the kitchen and the bar are where I stay. And, you know. Karaoke night. I got decent at snooker, though. My sisters still rinse me, but I have gotten better.” Shara’s head tilted to the side, “Were you a baby as well? I assumed you were a great deal older than her.” Admittedly, she wasn’t the best at that sort of thing, especially with races she hadn’t spent as much time around. Her brother could twitch his nose at you and get your age down within five years no matter how old you were. But here especially, when the traditions and behavior were so different, she had absolutely no skill for it at all, at least she wasn’t ashamed to admit it though. A commune, hm? The word wasn’t that familiar to her, at least, not in a modern human context, “I’ll try anything once, as a general rule. Especially if it comes recommended so glowingly.” Really, positivity and family were great key words to draw her in, and maybe if there were more races such as Dryads and other Fae she wouldn’t feel so odd for being so old. But Sid said she shouldn’t let that bother her as much, and she was trying, really. Her plan was to sit still and let the cats come to her, but she ended up stretching out on the couch, draping herself across the arm of it so she could eyeball one of the cats on a nearby ‘tree’ and dangle her arms over the side and the arm. Old? Yes. Dignified? Only on occasion. “Is it fun? Do you like it? There seems to be an abysmal tendency here to do something just because it is habit, or because you feel like you must.” Which made her rather sad, honestly. It was something she had heard a great deal since coming to the human world, and even since opening up the shop. Not everyone could be her and Miu, she supposed, but still. Her head tilted so she could peer at him over her shoulder, “Well, perhaps we can be terrible at bowling together? Make it a drinking game?” Friendly, lovable Hob or not, she was still Fae and could muster up a smile that was all trouble when the moment called for it, and this one definitely did. Though it didn’t last long, her head spun back around when she felt a cold, wet nose gently touch her hand, and she peered over the arm of the couch to see a fluffy gray and orange cat with a notch missing on of her ears sniffing at her hand. Shara stayed perfectly still until she started shoving her head against her hand, which made her give a quiet, giddy squeak before she started scratching her behind her ears. “Me?” Oliver asked with his head popping up at that question. He blinked a bit before smiling again. “Oh. No. I’m not that young, I just lived in the community with her for a few years. Her mother was very kind, though, and we all helped with the kids,” he shrugged and smiled. He understood the confusion. While, yes, fae aged slowly, he had remarkably kept the babyface almost more than his siblings. With his hair short, he looked younger than even the last Pilkington of the crop. It proved to be useful when he had been onstage, though. His young appearance made him perfect for many of the roles other, more seasoned actors would grow out of. It did, however, make trade shows more difficult as he was a bar manager and he had never looked old enough to drink never mind run a bar on his own. It humored him to no end that at any given time he had more experience than the collective others in a room. “I love bartending,” Oliver replied. His face was painfully open and expressive. His green eyes were bright with excitement as he smiled slowly. “It’s always changing. New alcohols, New beers or wines. Something new every year, and it’s exciting.” It was one of the few things he found that actually kept his attention. Dance, music, and bartending. Not so much drinking, as there was little effect on him unless he went harder than any bank account would allow. “And working with the family was like… It’s like home. It’s nice.” He never worried about doing something he did not want to. Mostly because he would just not. He was loyal and territorial, but he was also not the type of person to do something he did not want to. “But we can do that, for sure. Just let me know when so I am actually at the bowling alley.” He watched as one of the cats, the shy one who tended to stay away from most people climbed down and chirped inquisitively. The pixie turned his attention away so they could hopefully bond in peace. He knew some cats would bolt the instant they were acknowledged. The noise Shara made caused his head to turn and he smiled brightly. “She likes you.” Well that made so much more sense, and it served to further endear him to her. As any mentions of community and family tended to do. Not that she didn’t know already that Oliver was devoted to his family, but hearing that he looked after the little ones of other families as well was delightful. It was her understanding that Pixies, like Hobs, often treated raising young ones as a community effort, familial lines blurring between distant cousins as one looked after nieces and nephews like they were their own. It was a little different with the Seelie, from what she had seen, but maybe that was because they tended to have fewer children, and being as closed off as they were, she wasn’t particularly surprised about that either. “I miss my brothers and sisters’ children when they were, well, children,” Shara leaned towards him as if she was about to share a secret, “They made excellent test subjects. Then again, Kenna does now, sweet thing that she is.” Hopefully she wasn’t just humoring her when she tested things out and said they were good, though she couldn’t imagine her lying. Or not liking anything food related, honestly. Her eyes widened, “Oh! I hadn’t thought of that! But I suppose it makes sense, it’s about like food. Especially because everyone’s tastes are different. No meal or drink will please everyone, and anyone can provide insight to create something entirely new.” People here wondered how she didn’t get bored doing so many of the ‘same things’ for so many years, well, it wasn’t ever exactly the same, was it? “I’m glad to see you get along so well with them, I’ve met some in town or don’t even speak to their family.” Her tone said just how ghastly she found that thought. She grinned at him, “I shall! I look forward to it. Neither of us may do very well, but we’ll certainly have fun and put on a good show.” A laugh and a wink came with the words, because while she certainly had a competitive side, it only came out on certain days and with specific topics or activities. Oliver was so expressive it was no wonder he loved the arts — and the arts surely loved him! — every bit of him was alive and exuberant, maybe she’d get an opportunity to see him on the stage some time, that would be an experience for sure. “Hello little one.” The cat’s actions were more than enough of an indication of that indeed, but it was nice to hear Oliver say it outloud. Oddly validating in fact. “Do you want to come home with me and be my friend?” It was a question uttered in a tone as gentle as her fingers finding what was apparently the correct spot behind large, fuzzy ears, because she could hear the cat start purring even from where she was. “I’m one of the oldest. Two sisters and a brother ahead of me, but then there are six younger ones. And so many cousins. I don’t even know how many there are,” his eyes twinkled with his excitement. He loved having a big family. “We were encouraged to Not test on the siblings, though. Apparently, we had a poor sense of what was safe and what was not.” He smirked then looked down at Shara, and he flashed a bright smile. Oliver nodded and smirked. He enjoyed cooking as well for that same reason. All of the fad diets had meant the way of cooking and how to organize a menu was always changing and on the move. And accommodating for allergies now, and making things both dairy and gluten free meant thinking outside the box on how some items were prepared. “It’s a never-ending trade,” Oliver agreed. It was difficult to hold his attention and enjoyment. The food and beverage world had done that by scores, and he loved it. It was exciting, it was dramatic. And it was a skill he could actually use where he needed “On top of all that, then there is designs and styles. It’s so much fun.” He smirked and looked around at the cats before looking back down. “Totally. I look forward to it.” As Shara made friend with the notch kitty, Oliver took his seat on a chair and found his lap filled with the silver and black cat who purred and rolled onto her back. Her tail twitched and the cat chirped as Oliver watched and absently scratched under her chin. When the cat began to knead at the pillows and make biscuits, Oliver’s excitement started to radiate off him. He loved seeing people connect with his animals and them find new homes. He would be sad, of course, but there was something wonderful about someone finding their new best mate, and him watching it all happen. “She’s not one for tummy rubs, but she makes a great lap and foot warmer. As long as you don’t mind the shedding.” Oh. her house was about to be painted in fur. Shara blinked at him, wide eyed and clearly trying to process this information, and the image it conjured in her mind. A dozen Oliver’s running through the trees and dancing among the flowers. It sounded like absolute chaos, yet it was certainly the best sort. “Goodness, your poor parents! I think mine were very nearly overwhelmed with the five of us, and we were spread out enough that the next one after me had a few centuries between us.” Then again, it made more sense that way. Survivability speaking. Pixies often had sprawling homes, sometimes flowing outside or being part of nature, such as the trees, while Hobs lived inside primarily. If Hobs reproduced that quickly they would be in big trouble. “ The directive about not experimenting on siblings made her scoff though, “We were not that considerate, how else would they develop a strong constitution?” The Sharma family had stomach’s of steel, both inherited and earned, the latter coming from equal parts determination and stupidity. Though he couldn’t see her, she was grinning like a fool at how much she agreed with that. “It is! And humans move so fast, they come up with new stuff every day it seems. Have you met Miu? She has so many wonderful ideas too. She’s not human but she grew up here.” Unlike some of the other Fae she had met, Shara was more than happy to learn, and even from non-Fae. Not one for tummy rubs. Right. That was easy enough to remember, honestly, she thought that was normal based on what she saw on The Internet, but maybe she was looking at the wrong cat websites after all. “I think that won’t be an issue. I’ll respect her space.” Shara wasn’t sure how much the cat understood, after all, she had spent a great deal of time on a magical island and living with Pixies, or if the louder purring had anything to do with her words or the new spot she found behind her ears, but either way, she seemed to be happy. “And that’s what lint rollers and magic are for, right...Marmalade? Yes. Marmalade.” Because of course she would name her first proper pet after food. If all they did was dance among the flowers, which apparently was what people through Pixies did on average, maybe they all would have been more manageable. As it were, the siblings were far more fond of causing hell. Much to his parent’s every growing amount of gray hairs, they all got along well enough to cause considerable stress. Mixed in with the cousins? It was never quiet. Such was the life of the Pilkingtons, naturally. “We were all born within a few centuries. Some as close as a few years, some as far as a decade or so. Perhaps my parents were just rather… affectionate for each other.” His grin was bordering on playful and suggestive. Yet, it still held that innocent twinkle and earnestness that came with Oliver naturally. “We have been waiting for a new brood to come amount any day now that everyone has flown the nest.” But to her comment about constitution, he gave a tight-lipped grin. Pixies were not hardy. They survived by avoiding and playing tricks. They were not designed to stand the test of time in an aggressive manner. It was why they had so many children. Much like sea turtles on the same beach, the idea of laying hundred to have dozen survive came with the territory. There was a lot that could take them out--including each other. “Puck is not someone to cross when he makes a rule,” was all he offered. His grandfather was legend for Pixies and fae scholars. His word sort of became law in the Wilds. “I have, though i am not sure what Miu thinks of me,” he replied easily. Then again, that was a fair assessment. He was overwhelming. Not that his sense of self meant Oliver was about to change that. “Her creations are amazing,” he did concede. And they were. Everything was clever and artistic. And delicious. He was not one to give up quality for visuals. That was much of the excuse for why he dressed the same for the last six decades. “I feel like there is a lot our world has missed out on by not wanting to change. They have this ‘if it ain’t broke’ approach and I think it’s unfortunate.” He shrugged and smirked. Nothing he could do about it. Faes would be faes. Oliver’s smile was now infectious as she named the cat. He could feel the way the room shifted. And the name was settled and decided on. It was fitting for both parties. A cat so soft and sweet, yet tangy in personality. Hob who lived with food and was just as enjoyable as breakfast food. He knew they would be perfect together. “I have some stuff you can take with you that Marmalade liked. The food I use so her tummy doesn’t get upset, and the litter we use. Scoop her up and we can go upstairs. I can rope one of the boys to help you carry it all back.” As much as he loved the animals in the house, the best feeling was the day one found a new family. A few years? Shara blinked at him, naked surprise showing on her face, “I think if all five of us were children at the same time, the house we grew up in would have caught fire.” Several times over possibly. It would have smelled lovely, like a banquet with lots of cakes most likely, somehow, but at least they would be as equally helpful in cleaning up afterwards? Who knew with them though, honestly, the Sharma siblings were notoriously competitive when next to each other, even when there should have been a league or five of maturity separating them. The comment about his parents though her her giggling like a schoolgirl, “They must be quite enamored still then? That’s lovely.” More children, even, and at whatever age they must be? Very remarkable. Made her think there might be hope for her yet, though even with what Sid said, she wasn’t terribly optimistic about her ability to find companionship here. Even though she had left home, and she had — for the most part — enjoyed this world so far, she still felt the need to defend it, “We do tend to have that mentality, but is it not better than the need for change and more that this world seems to present?” Maybe a dislike of change was a good thing, if this was progress. After all, one of the things that had brought her here was a sad mortal woman who had been, well, she didn’t want to think about it again, honestly, because it was awful. The fact of the matter is, she still wasn’t sure how she felt about the way these people lived out their already too short lives. The want to take the cat home and see how he liked it warred with her desire to stay in this comfortable position surrounded by cats. It was very hard to be in a bad mood surrounded by cats, she was finding, so why ever would she want to move? But she didn’t want to overstay her welcome either, so she followed instructions, gently picking up Marmalade and letting him lay comfortably (for him) across his chest, “Alright sweetling, lets go, it’s a new dawn for both of us.” And she took the steps carefully so as to not jostle him too much, though by the way he was headbutting her chin with loud uneven purrs made her think he wasn’t easily upset. |