thehometree | Screams...

Entry tags:

Screams...

| characters | Arj and anyone

| date/time | 26th, when the Violinist appears

| location | Outside the tree, by the entrance.

| rating | teen and up to be safe?

| summary | So that's where all those sounds were coming from...

There's a soft rain falling outside the tree today, clouds dimming the sky and mist rising from the ground. The very air is damp, smelling of moss and rich soil. The rains here aren't the ones Arj is used to - sudden flashes, followed by a sudden wild bloom across the desert. Here they're long and persistent. He shivers as he huddles in his leaf cloak, and wonders if there's a chance of finding anything warmer around here...

He's sitting in the entrance right now, backlit by the warm glow of the stream. Even if he liked the cold, he wouldn't venture out into raindrops the size of his head. Nothing makes him feel small like feeling them thud into the ground, seeing even the gentle drops tear up the dirt firsthand.

Above the drumming drops, he's listening out for the sounds that woke him up last night. They seem to be closer.

A figure is stirring in the mist, blurred by rain and fog.

"Well then," the kiarr says. "Seems we have another incident. And what needs doing this time?"

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A blur of light approaches from around the side of the Tree, bounding over and ducking under the Tree’s roots, headed for the shelter of the doorway. As the light gets closer, details reveal a human with a leaf clutched around their head and a firefly clinging to their shoulder.

Orcelito scrambles up the last slippery arc of a root and approaches the doorway, throwing off the makeshift hood as he escapes the rain. He’s surprised to see what appears to be a crouched figure silhouetted in the doorway. His tense expression relaxes into a smile when he steps closer and makes out the striped cat.

“Arj. Good evening.” Orcelito stands just outside the doorway, looking back over his shoulder towards the mist. “Has something happened? I thought I heard someone.”

There was a strange high-pitched noise mixed in with the rain. But with the water pounding around him, he couldn’t discern any particulars.

Arj steps aside to let Orcelito in, and nods politely at his greeting.

"Something's moving outside. It's in the mist. Can't see a thing but shadows."

His hearing is keener than a human's, so maybe Orcelito can't hear it? But surely he must have heard the sounds from last night. They ripped through the Tree, tearing its denizens out of sleep. This time he's waiting for them.

"You remember the screaming?"

“Screaming?” Orcelito runs a hand through his damp hair, trying to separate the strands to dry. His firefly gives off a pleasant warmth from its’ perch on his shoulder. “I heard something like that last night… I thought it was an animal.” He assumed the owl was back, or perhaps some other bird capable of screeching.

Orcelito doesn’t enter the Tree just yet, instead regarding the mist wall alongside the great cat. In the haze of rain he can’t discern anything but a grey blur. “The shadow you’re seeing… how large is it?”

"No, it didn't sound like that. Sounded like one of you people. Human," Arj says. You are human?" After a couple of encounters, he's learning not to assume, but he's as tactless as ever.

He sits down, hunched underneath the leaf cloak, but his ears are still perked, listening out for anything unusual.

"About the same size as one of you, if you were full sized," he says. "I think someone's trying to get through? Or we're wanted for something, again."

Orcelito stares down at Arj, raising his eyebrows in a question of his own. “Yes, I’m human.” Human as opposed to… the people here who look human but call themselves something different?

Well, if Arj says the sound was human, then it likely was. Orcelito won’t argue with those ears. During the wagon ride through the forest, he saw Arj react to sounds most of the others never heard.

But now a chill runs over him, and the rain has nothing to do with it. One of… our size. If he assumes it’s someone who has visited the Tree previously, that narrows it down to three possibilities. Abigail, who should not be out in this weather. The woman with the hollow back, who was able to pass through the mist. And…

Almost cautiously, Orcelito asks, “They’re trying to come through... Do you mean they are standing at the edge? Like they are waiting?”

"It's not always easy to tell." Arj bends down and licks his paw, a by now common expression of humility. "When I came here I thought everyone else was human. Seems I was wrong. But not always."

He crouches down and shifts position to get a better view through the blurred rain, shoulders rising and falling under the cloak. He looks as if he's stalking prey, but his face has the worried look of a creature alert for danger, ready to flee.

"Yes," he says. There are often things moving in the mist, but this one seems... human. "It's not her, with the hollow back... they don't sound right. Don't move right. It's someone different."

Not having met any of the other normal sized visitors to the tree, he's at a loss.

That’s true. He supposes they do all look alike.

His brow furrows as he gazes towards the mist wall. He was hoping it was the hollow woman... it could still be. Injury will cause a human to move irregularly. As would certain footwear, or in this place, appendages other than feet like paws or hooves. “If they’re not moving right, they may be wounded. That would explain the screams.” That thought puts him on edge.

Taking note of Arj’s tense posture, Orcelito hastens to add, “We can investigate once the rain eases.”

"Maybe you're right." He needs to go out there. He doesn't want to, but what he wants and what he has to do are rarely the same thing. At this size, the rain falls like boulders.

He settles down into a crouched position, tucking his paws underneath like a pet cat sitting in a loaf position. He's still watching, ears twitching at the slightest noise.

He looks back up at the human, at a loss for words. Small talk has never been his strong point. "So... You're human. Did you come from the same place as any of the others?"

Orcelito doesn’t want to brave those formidable raindrops again either. He also doesn’t want to leave. If some ~~violin-playing fiend~~ person comes tromping through the mist, Arj shouldn’t face it by himself. So he’ll stay nearby, even if it is cool and damp.

“Hm?” He glances at the blue cat again. “Oh, no, there’s no one from my world here.” Which is a good thing. “And I’m not from Earth.” Any of the Earths. Apparently, there are several.

Come to think of it, referring to Arj as a ‘cat’ is rather like Arj referring to everything humanoid as ‘human’. If distinctions are important to him, perhaps it would be proper to reciprocate? “May I ask what you call yourself?”

"Strange, isn't it? That there's so many human... worlds... and no other kiarr worlds." He still stumbles over the word. He's aware that the Tree's magic means that his speech becomes whatever the listener understands, but sometimes words don't come across so well. Humans have all sorts of strange ideas that don't always make sense.

In his current state, hunched and seated, he looks like a wary rabbit, frozen, but sill looking out for danger in the mist. The words "I call myself Arj, isn't that obvious?" very nearly escape from his mouth before he remembers what Orcelito really means. "I'm a desert kiarrcat," he says. "So as you'll expect, I'm not exactly enjoying the weather."

“Do you know that for certain?” He asks, curious. “I didn’t know there were humans on other worlds until I came here.”

Kiarrcat? It’s a nice name - the way the r’s sound. “You're from a desert?” His eyes widen with interest. Most of the large cats on his world live in the mountains or the forests. He studies Arj’s coat and large ears. He’s no expert on animals but… true, he doesn’t seem built for snow.

“You don’t like the cold or… you don’t like the rain?”

Edited 2015-10-04 06:40 (UTC)

"No, but look how many there are of you, or those who look like you. Have you noticed the furniture here? It's all made for people shaped like you."

Arj's ear twitches in response to a tiny sound outside, but it's nothing. He goes on.

"Yes, I'm from a desert. I can say that being here is an experience. Is this what it's always like in winter?" He gets to his feet and stretches, one limb at a time, to ease the stiffness. "Rain I don't mind. Rain that feels like rocks from the sky, that would be a different matter."

It is perhaps a testament to human arrogance – or just the arrogance of princes – that Orcelito did not notice. An honestly puzzled expression takes over his face as this information sets in.

Now that he thinks about it, most of the adventurers have been human in appearance. In fact, only Arj and Yuuya were truly animal-like. But if the builders were ants then… they must have been told to build homes suited to people.

Which leads to a better question is: how did the ants know how to build human furniture?

“Oh, this isn’t winter.” He says, recovering quickly with a nervous smile. “Winter brings frost and snow – that’s when the rain freezes. Have you ever seen snow?”

"I do," he says. For once he doesn't have his usual arrogant demeanor. It's a common question for one of Ryll's most northerly Desert clans. "The Heshroun Basin - that's where I came from - is surrounded by mountains. Sometimes, in the middle of the winter, there'll be snow on the ground." They were only light dustings, as the mountains blocked the worst of the storms, but enough to cause a real danger to the heat adapted kiarrs. The thought of it sends a shiver rippling down Arj's spine. "Bad times."

His arrogance in general doesn't seem to be holding up today. There's something quiet, and thoughtful, about the kiarr. Perhaps it's recent events. Perhaps it's the rain.

"And you?" he says. "What kind of a place do you come from?"

It must indeed be warm where the kiarrcats live, to only have snow in the middle of winter. Orcelito’s smile eases. “I live on a mountain where it snows from autumn through spring. It’s colder than here.”

He’s noticed talking about home tends to relax people… and kiarrcats. Arj’s quieter tone and stretching are a welcome sight; he looked too tense before.

“I’ve always wanted to see a desert. There aren’t many in my country.” And Orcelito would rather hear about other’s homes than talk about his own. “I’ve heard they’re quite extraordinary. What’s yours like?”

"That sounds like the mountains around the Basin," Arj says. "Not many of us go in, or out."

He settles back down, in his catloaf position, but a little more at ease this time. Maybe talking about home was what he wanted to do all along? "It's not much to look at," he says. "Afraid you might be a little disappointed. It's rocks, mainly. But the mountains are where the water comes from; there's snow on there all year around, so there's always tiny rivers flowing. They dry up, but there are little shrubs around them, sometimes even trees. Not like this one. They're all tough, and dark, and they smell strong."

He isn't sure how to convey the scent of pine resin, but, almost without thinking of it, he's been bending the light between his forepaws, creating not quite a picture of the desert hanging between them, but an impression. The dull yellow of the rocks, the sparse greenery around the rivers, the dark shades of evergreens... they swirl in the air, practically unnoticed by their maker.

Orcelito notices a shimmer out of the corner of his eye and follows it down to Arj’s dexterous forepaws. At first it seems to be a trick of the light; rain will do that. But no, this isn’t like a soap bubble or water droplets. There are colors, yes, but orderly shapes too. His eyes widen and he crouches down to get a better look.

It’s like looking through hazy pane of glass; if he doesn’t focus too intently he can discern the general shapes and shadows of rocks, dark trees, a desert-blue sky… is this the place Arj is trying to describe to him? His way of showing it to him? This is… a visual sort of magic, like the Violinist’s illusions and the cave that the Day Team described?

It takes a moment to find words, and then he’s giving Arj a delighted smile. “This is incredible! Can all your people… ah, Kiarrcats, create pictures like this?”

Though it came into being slowly, alongside Arj's thoughts, the blurred picture vanishes in an instance as Orcelito's words startle the kiarr - and embarrass him too. He wasn't even aware he was doing it!

"Oh, that?" he says. "That's just light. I suppose we can all do it... all Deserts anyway... but it's not as if it's real."

If truth be told, he doesn't know how to react to something as warm as a compliment. So he just rubs the back of his ear and tries to avoid the human's gaze. "Why? Did you want to see more?"

Orcelito is disappointed when the image vanishes, but doesn’t speak cat well enough to understand Arj’s discomfort. Instead, he sits down beside him, listening with interest.

“I’d like to, yes, if you’d care to show me.” Orcelito leaves the invitation open and adds a bit of encouragement. “I’ve met someone who could make shapes out of water and metal, but not light. I didn't know it was possible.”

Arj nods. He knows of kiarrs with similar abilities, so that's not a surprise to him.

"It's only light," he repeats. But he stands up anyway, the cloak draped over his back, and looks out to the rainy vista outside. Nothing's changed so far. If it does, he'll hear it. And he can feel the damp creeping into his coat.

He hods up a paw, and a sheet of golden light hovers before the entrance, flexing and wavering like an aurora. This time it takes a lot of effort, to take the scene from his memory and reproduce it in detail on his immaterial canvas. The image comes together like a watercolour hanging in mid-air - a rocky bluff overlooking a bare valley, scattered with low and twisted pines...

Orcelito settles himself more comfortably, unsure how long this magic will take but glad to see it through. On passing thought, he reaches up to his shoulder to catch his firefly and bring him between himself and Arj. If they’re going to be here a while, they may as well both be warm.

Watching Arj manipulate the light is unlike anything he’s seen yet. The canvas itself is beautiful. He watches silently as the colors appear and form shapes, curious as to where it all comes from. When the details start filling in, he’s speechless; he didn’t know light could be so precise! This isn’t like light reflecting through glass; it’s more like a mosaic or a painting.

Orcelito smiles, but not the practiced smile of before. This is wistful, pleased, and refreshingly genuine. “My home is similar.” He says softly, just enough to be heard over the rain. He reaches out tentatively, not wanting to disturb Arj’s concentration, to point to the bluff. “I lived on a cliff like this. It was windy, and cold once the sun set. You could see so many stars at night.”

"Well... thankyou," he says. Though his big, expressive ears aren't fully perked again, the kiarr looks a little brighter for the praise, forcing back the impulse to stress again that his images are nothing more than light. The illusion has some personal significance as well - the bluff is where he would come some days to be apart from the clan, up with the resin scented pines and his thoughts for company. Orcelito's approval is enough to make him relax.

"I know what you mean," he adds, when Orcelito tells him about the stars. "We didn't come out at night very often, but sometimes, when it was warm enough, everything was clear. Not just the rings and the moons, the stars too."

He sits back, his work completed. "If someone leaves, do you think home's where they end up again?"

“Moons and rings?” He asks curiously. “Then… there is more in your night skies than just one moon?” He wonders if the constellations change on Arj’s world like they do here. It’s something Orcelito cannot get used to; the stars should stay in one place and it is disturbing when they move about.

“I hope so.” He regards the light picture, soaking in the familiarity. “Some of the others have suggested we’ll return to very time and place we last were. That it will be as though we never left.” He can’t imagine carrying these memories back to his world, into his day to day life. So many things have changed, and he worries he is changing with them.

He smiles easily – too easily – and leans forward to rest his arms on his knees. “But even if I’m gone from my world for several months, I still want to return.” He almost asks if Arj has family waiting for him too. But maybe it’s different with cats than it is with people?

"The sky here is a little empty, yes." It's true that talking to the other inhabitants helped him realise that he was no longer on Ryll, but what told Arj for sure that he was on a different world was its night sky.

"It sounds to me like you have something good to go back to," he says, settling back into a comfortable loaf position. "I don't know if I would mind going home or not. But what do you think would happen if... if someone did not want to return?"

His eyes look distant again, staring at nothing. He knows not everyone in the Tree, past or present, spoke so highly of their world.

A sky that seems empty… he can’t imagine fitting more in the sky than is already there. “Wouldn’t having more than one moon make the night skies brighter?” He asks.

Good to go back to… he can’t say that, not without hesitating. But there are good things, yes. A familiar world and place, stars that stay the same... but there will be things missing too. Perhaps Arj has found some of those ‘things missing’ here as well.

He smiles, but there’s an ironic quality to it. “You are not the only one who wonders.” He admits. “You could ask Fuu or Owain. They know more of this sort of thing than I do.” Though, this place seems to function differently than the worlds those two have visited. And he never heard either of them say they had a choice to go or stay.

“Are there things you like about this place?” Orcelito inquires, seeming to simply make conversation, perhaps digging for more but it’s hard to tell with him. Agendas are unpredictable and change moment to moment. He distracts with a hint of humor. “Not the cold, certainly.”

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Screams...

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