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Miniver Cheevy (
miniver
) wrote in
utr_logs
,
@
2008
-
07
-
06
05:46:00
Who: Miniver Cheevy, Sable Harris, and the Butterfly
What: Engaging in massive geekery. Also, finding Butterfly a place to stay.
Where: Sable's bookstore
When: Now.
Warnings: Hippies
Miniver finds the Butterfly's library quick enough.
It's not hard to guess who he's looking for.
"Hey! H'llo! Are you that guy?"
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nobodysuspects
2008-07-06 09:58 am UTC
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link
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The Butterfly was impatient and had flitted from shelf to stack of books, reading, snagging snippets of prose here and there while Miniver was on his way. He had on a pair of reading glasses when Miniver showed up, and when he looked up, his dark eyes looked impossibly large, before he slipped away that pair and replaced them with his seemingly usual sunglasses.
Nothing was really that usual for the man-who-wasn't-always a man.
At least being bipedal wasn't entirely too hard for him, though the weight of it all gave him cause for ire. Not that it showed, because when Miniver showed up, he was smiles and cheer.
"Miniver cursed the commonplace,
And eyed a khaki suit with loathing!"
He looked down at his own clothes, the teeshirt with Iron Butterfly emblazoned on it, under the purple suit jacket and the tie-dyed denim.
"It's no iron clothing, but it'll do." He said with a chuckle, offering a bow, "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir Cheevy. We're off to see the daughter, the wonderful daughter of Oz?" He joked, his voice low and rumbling like thunder - he wasn't used to it just yet, but he'd grow accustomed.
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miniver
2008-07-06 10:02 am UTC
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Miniver approves of him immediately.
"Oh yeah. Her name's Sable. I didn't know about her until a few weeks ago. She's great, though. Kid knows how to make a cuppa tea."
He leads the Butterfly down to his car. "It's pretty close. What do I call you, anyway?"
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nobodysuspects
2008-07-06 10:11 am UTC
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"Sable and Miniver! Fitting furs, royal finery." Butterfly nodded in vague approval. "Though no royalty or nobility
I
have met has graced a simpleton with the help truly needed in times of dire straits." He looked at the car with a brow raise, "Where's the steed?"
But then he was asked a question and he cleared his throat, standing straight as a guard at a tower,
"They call me Anthony Boris Charles Dennis Elray Francis George Henry Ichabod Jasper Kevin Lewis Mark Nol Oscar Peter Quincy Rasputin Steven Travis Ulysses Victor Winston Xavier Yevon Zachariah Charleston the Fourth, but the best name to call me," He said with another bow, "is Butterfly."
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miniver
2008-07-06 10:25 am UTC
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"Dude. I dunno how to ride a real horse." He listens to the name, grinning, then swings into the car and starts it up. "Well come on then, Butterfly."
Once in the car, Miniver spends most of the ride pointing out important landmarks -- which, in addition to tall things easily seen from a distance, were mostly pubs.
They get to the bookstore soon and Miniver ushers the Butterfly in. It's a cozy place -- a bookstore, yes, but also a lived-in-place, with trinkets in spaces on the shelves and livingroom furniture scattered about and board games stacked in one corner and bits of writing paper and pens lying about for anyone to pick up, and a little TV behind the counter quietly droning BBC news with a flickering picture on an old screen...
It really is like walking into a very large warren of a livingroom.
The bell dings when they enter and a voice calls out from the second-floor balcony that circles the walls. "Be right down!"
Miniver grins to the Butterfly. "Make yourself at home."
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nobodysuspects
2008-07-06 10:31 am UTC
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"Home is where you hang your hat." Said Butterfly, patting his multicolored dreadlocks with a wink, "Haven't got one."
He did, however, take a seat and pick up a book and start reciting out loud,
"Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay."
The book in hand was in fact a farmer's almanac, but he had a cheeky smile before settling down and reading quietly, resting himself after a long day of wandering the library. Being human for the first time, he had all the time in the world to read every page of every book he had always wanted to go through. Most butterflies would only read snips and bits, sing the songs they'd heard. His cousin had once read a book in his lifetime, but all for naught, because he'd died two hours later.
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ex_sable973
2008-07-06 10:38 am UTC
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Pretty eyes and a dark face appears over the railing above. "Hey, dad. You bring me another poet to play with? Awesome."
She disappears, and a minute later, comes bounding down the stairs behind the front counter and leaves a load of laundry on it. "You guys want some tea or food? Miniver, you're getting fed whether you want it or not. He forgets, see," she explains to the Butterfly with a welcoming smile. "Hi. I'm Sable. How're you? Need anything?"
She has her father's eyes but none of his social awkwardness.
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nobodysuspects
2008-07-06 10:52 am UTC
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"A poet is one of many things,
Many things you'd call me." Sing-songed the man, standing when she entered the room, "A bit of sweet tea would do me a world of good." He said, offering his hand, "Butterfly."
He bowed to her as he took her hand, giving it a quick kiss, before righting himself, "And lovely are the eyes,
That family bonds do bind."
He sat once more, looking over to Miniver, "Pretty woman. New to you?" And then added, after a bit of thought, "Of course."
"A long and lonesome highway,
And a musician and his men,
The lady's a rambler too, I see,
She's united with you again."
He grinned, "You and her mother, was there love?"
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miniver
2008-07-06 11:03 am UTC
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Sable grabs her laundry and disappears into a nook of a hallway under the stairs. The sound of dishes clattering and her humming follow.
Miniver slips up to sit on the counter, leaning back on his hands and listening. "Love?" he asks. "I dunno, I mean... No, not like she was my girlfriend or anything. There was need. And there was a kind of..." He waves his hand searchingly. "Common interest. Love, but not exactly for one another. More... for the rightness of life at the time, and for the having and the giving and the madness in between. I don't know why she picked me. I don't know why she never sent word about a baby. Neither does the baby." He smirks back over his shoulder. "Don't seem to have done her any harm, though, and lord knows I'm not fit to father anyone."
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nobodysuspects
2008-07-06 11:10 am UTC
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"Butterflies show love in a flighty way like that, you'd be surprised how similar we are to musicians." He spoke, glancing over the pages of the almanac, "The weather for the fourth of October, 1898, was supposed to be sunny and warm!"
He set the book aside. "There was love there, and that's enough, and she is a loving person." He looked towards the hallway, listening to the humming. "Perhaps
musicians
are more like
butterflies
. Never knew my father. Or perhaps I did and didn't know I knew him."
He stretched his arms above his head and got a satisfying crack from his middle back, "We're definitely not dissimilar."
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ex_sable973
2008-07-06 11:15 am UTC
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Sable returns then, and catching the end of the Butterfly's words, replies, "I knew Miniver before I knew he was my father." She shoos said genetic donor off the counter so she can put down the tray of tea things and pour three cups. "We danced in a club. It was sweet. How many sugars, Butterfly?"
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nobodysuspects
2008-07-06 11:19 am UTC
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"As many can fit in the cup." He joked, then held up two fingers, looking at her, "You dance?"
What a delight, that people still danced when they generally were a sour batch. He knew too many people who were just about the poster-children for doldrums.
He was glad to have met a group that wasn't. "So lucky are we,
The ones who dance when the music is scarce."
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miniver
2008-07-06 11:26 am UTC
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"Of course we do!" Miniver and Sable answer together -- different tones, different voices, but close enough that there's no mistaking the shared blood. Sable grins and brings a cup over to Butterfly, then another to her father -- at least half cream, one sugar. After forcing a few cookies at both men, she gets her own cup and sits comfortably on the floor, ignoring the several alternatives of furniture and counterspace.
Miniver sits on the counter again, nibbling at one of the tiny pastry things Sable shoved at him. "I learned to dance when I was little. Guess Sable did, too. Heh, my husband? He can't do it, though. I've tried to teach him. He's so cute but... heh... fail."
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nobodysuspects
2008-07-06 11:29 am UTC
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He nibbled at the cookie, testing it. It tasted like sweet grains and honey and cow's milk and that suited him just fine. He experimented by dipping it in the tea and then taking a bite of it, and that worked too. He nodded his head in thanks to Sable.
"How does one fail at dance?" He asked, his head tilted just slightly. "There's no wrong way to do it."
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miniver
2008-07-06 11:38 am UTC
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"Oh, you have no idea," Miniver giggles. "I gotta show you a video of his old band where he used to actually do it onstage. It's so cute."
"By cute," Sable notes, "he means hilarious. But yeah, he was real cute before he met you. The hell did you do to him, dad?"
Miniver sits up and huffs at her. "You'll understand when you fall in love and get old and drunk, too. He ain't but improved since I met him."
"Or you drink more," Sable teases fondly. "Hey, y'know what? I might have a book around here someplace with photos. I bet I do!" And with that, she's off into the shelves, hunting the biography and music sections.
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nobodysuspects
2008-07-06 11:44 am UTC
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The Butterfly just watched with a curious, cheeky smile. "Dancing isn't steps and beats and footfalls, it's a way of life, a way to get around instead of walking or taking carriages or galloping or flying."
He took another bite of the cookie and chuckled as the crumbs fell into his beard and he brushed them away. "I remember a goat.
Loved to dance and gloat.
She belonged to a hag,
A ninny goat nag,
with a long white silver horn on her forehead.
She believed in right and wrong,
The black and white,
No grey in between,
But
I
knew all along."
He took a sip of tea.
"She thought she was right.
Pure and white.
She thought her every move was a dance.
She sent hunters in a trance.
Perhaps what she thought was true.
Some people think so, I do too."
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ex_sable973
2008-07-06 11:49 am UTC
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"You're AWESOME," Miniver says to the Butterfly. And he'd never say so aloud -- but he actually did love Pickles' dancing. He thought it was sexy, however silly it might seem when compared to more traditional styles.
Sable bounds back then and hands the Butterfly a book. It's a large book, with large photos of a number of bands that had been popular at the time Snakes n' Barrels was, but they feature prominently. "Look through that," Sable instructs. "You'll see. He really is totally cute. Dad has good taste."
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nobodysuspects
2008-07-06 11:53 am UTC
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Butterfly took another sip of his tea before setting it aside and taking the offered book, setting it in his lap. He flipped the cover and then looked over the pages at the color photos and smiled. "Who was the one,
With the bluest eyes,
That made him think of rain?"
He turned to look up at Miniver, brow quirked in just a way to show that he half-knew already.
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miniver
2008-07-06 11:57 am UTC
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Something about that look makes Miniver's cheeks go red.
His non-answer might be answer enough as he looks away and hides behind his teacup.
"What, Tony?" Sable asks. She knows only a little of the REAL story of her father(-s?) history together, and little more than rumors of anything earlier.
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nobodysuspects
2008-07-06 11:58 am UTC
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He pointed out the bassist in the book, and leaned over to Sable, "Brown eyed boy."
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ex_sable973
2008-07-06 12:02 pm UTC
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"Ohhh." Sable looks, then looks up to her father. "Oh, was that song about you?? It's so pretty!"
Miniver is still blushing. A comic book representation of his general demeanor right now would likely feature a surplus of floating hearts around his head.
Fifteen years haven't dulled the infatuation on HIS end, at any rate.
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nobodysuspects
2008-07-06 12:06 pm UTC
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Butterfly, being the easily amused creature he was, just chuckled and went back to browsing the book, sipping his tea on occasion.
He didn't have much to say to the book, though the pictures were pretty. He liked how the people dressed so vividly back then - certainly a welcome change from how people dressed where he lived, all drab with wool and cotton. He handed back the book after a while, and offered them a bit of conversation starter,
"Tell me about the world here? I am wont to see the world, once I know what's in it."
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miniver
2008-07-06 12:17 pm UTC
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"Someday," Sable tells her father, "I'm going to make you and Pickles sit down and tell me what all your songs mean. All of them."
Miniver tosses his hair back. "Good luck, lady. Hey. Butterfly. The world here..." LOL SUBJECT AVOIDANCE. "...It's okay. Not too different from where I came from, but it ain't no medieval... whatever. There's cars and electricity and uh... what else?"
Sable joins in, and she and Miniver go back and forth for some time, noting facts historical and technological, geographical and astronomical, covering any topic that comes to mind, including the pointless and the silly.
Sable finally goes to get another pot of tea, leaving Miniver to ponder any other relevant information. "Um. Ummm... I dunno, you got any like, questions?"
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nobodysuspects
2008-07-06 12:19 pm UTC
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He absorbed all the new information and nibbled on another cookie, occasionally brushing the crumbs from his beard. "No fairies?"
Yes, that was his only question.
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miniver
2008-07-06 12:21 pm UTC
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"Oh, probably. I just haven't met them. I met an elf, though."
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nobodysuspects
2008-07-06 12:22 pm UTC
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"Have you? Of the small, forest variety, or of the tall, city variety?" Asked Butterfly, knowing full well that he'd never met either, but knew they existed.
He knew everything existed
somewhere
, he'd just have to look.
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miniver
2008-07-06 12:28 pm UTC
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"Small,
very unpleasant
forest variety," Miniver replies, wrinkling his nose a little. "He's like this crazy little fucker who goes around with a guy who's actually really nice and kinda fun. I guess the elf is too if you don't mind being alternately ignored and insulted, but I've never seen them apart. Like, literally. I've never seen those two
not touching
. It's really weird because I'm pretty sure, like really almost 100% sure they're not, y'know, a couple or even gay. It's just this thing they do..." He shrugs. He hasn't spent MUCH time with them. "But there's other weird shit around, too. Like, there WAS a talking monkey turned into a kid. I hope to god Bill got rid of him because he was really annoying. And like, God's here or something..."
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nobodysuspects
2008-07-06 12:32 pm UTC
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Butterfly just absorbed it all again, and raised a brow. "Quite like myself, the monkey. I suppose we're lucky to have been given lips to talk and legs to walk and faces so people can recognize us?" He smiled fondly, "Which God?"
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miniver
2008-07-06 12:35 pm UTC
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"I don't know," Miniver admits. "Some incarnation of a number of THE Gods? Really, don't know. That elf said he's a god, too, so... dude, I think there's a lot of gods running around the place and none of 'em got any more godhood than the others so I'd rather just think of them as singularly self-absorbed and delusional wizards."
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nobodysuspects
2008-07-06 12:39 pm UTC
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"Weren't they all anyway? What is a God but a man revered for his powers? What is a wizard but the same? Even simple commonfolk would never know the difference between a man and a God, unless they were told." He crossed his legs in the chair and got into a Yogic pose of Buddha. "Some men are but wise, some men are but wizards, and yet, they all believe in a more powerful, more wise source? There are foolish wizards and foolish men, and even foolish Gods. Gods and Wizards and Men are all the same under the shade of dark, and so are butterflies and mere common moths. To the eye of your touch and hearing, they all sound and feel the same. Never look for a wiser man than the one you see in a mirror."
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miniver
2008-07-06 12:45 pm UTC
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Miniver stares.
Then stares some more.
Then Sable reappears to refill the teacups and whispers to Butterfly, "It's a bit late, dear, baby steps. Sometimes he just stops knowing how to process."
She's remarkably insightful, for her age and a total stranger, but then maybe her mother HAD taught her things indirectly...
Miniver shakes out his hair and gives Sable a nod in thanks for the tea. "So, actually, we came to see if you've got room to let Butterfly crash with you for a while."
Sable beams at that. "Oh, really? Shoot, of course I do! Love to have you stay here, Butterfly. Plenty of room. You just pipe up when you want the tour, okay? I guess you didn't get here with luggage?"
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nobodysuspects
2008-07-06 12:48 pm UTC
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"The rags on my back and the smile on my face." He said, thanking her silently for the tea once more. He actually was aiming to see how far he could confuse the poor musician. He quite enjoyed doing that sort of thing.
"And for your payment, I shall sing and tell stories to you whenever you so wish, granted I'm not sleeping when you feel the desire."
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