[ A coven takes all types, and just as the world at large has its recluses and its social butterflies, so does Amyranth span the width and breadth of all humanity. The itchy-soled and wanderlusted pass through town from time to time, but Cora — being young and lazy in that specifically teenage sort of way — prefers it better when the world comes to her instead.
On summer afternoons like this one, she can be found on the porch of her parents' place, pushing herself idly back and forth on its swing seat — the old hinges complaining gently with the back and forth, back and forth, most of the real squeak having been worn out of its joints long ago. At her feet sit a cat, a dog and — oddly enough — a tiny baby goat. It bleats anxiously whenever someone approaches, the tiny bell tied round its neck twinkling as it flops its head about in protest. ]
That's a bit harsh. [ Daniel isn't a traveller by nature, though that doesn't mean he's capable of that same kind of stillness something ancient and wise and green is. (He just likes setting down roots, is all. Soil or stone, he isn't really picky about which.) The thickly knitted jumper he's wearing has patches at the elbows and is flecked with soil at the sleeves despite them being bunched up to his elbows; tucked under his arm is a basket of carrots (purple, not orange) and what might be a potato or two.
He sets the wicker basket down and bends at the knees, making motions to pat whichever animal of Cora's mini-menagerie is most willing to humor him. ]
You could ask him politely, you know. Hasn't anyone taught you how to speak goat?
[ The cat is catlike, the dog is doglike and the goat is a fidgety combination of both. A flick of disinterested tail from the feline companion and nothing but eager panting and offered ears from the old hound. And as for the goat it seems undecided whether attention is wanted or not and so it gets to its wobbly little goat feet and begins to trot fretfully up and down the length of the porch. Behind the heart-shaped frames of her sunglasses she rolls her eyes and laughs (even her petulance is appealing, in a summertime sort of way). ]
Now look what you've gone and done. [ She doesn't seem annoyed in the least. ] Aren't you supposed to be delivering zen, not uppity baby farm animals? [ Before Daniel can answer Cora gives demonstrative wiggle of her fingers through the air, fingertips tracing ancient lines that leave a rose-colored haze in their wake. She then blows the vaguely sigil-shaped cloud in the goat's direction and it slows its trot down to a sheepish pace. Instead of complaining, it seems to apologize with its next bleet before finally coming to sit back down at her feet, closer than before. ] And FYI, I do speak goat.
[ He laughs, though it fades quicker than it would when a gossamer-pink something flashes at his peripheral. Daniel is good at hiding it, the kind-of sharp burn that comes with the way Amyranth treats magic, casually but also staggeringly powerful when twisted at the right angles. At the end of the day it's disappointment, not disdain, that makes his smile strange. ]
Who says I can't do both? [ Eventually, Daniel decides to chance it with the dog, giving it a quick rub behind its ears. He's sure that it's the same mangy beast who ruined his tomatoes the year before. To the spirit of new beginnings and all that, then. ]
Do you think you could wrangle my caterpillars into behaving now, while we're playing animal tamers?
[ If Cora notes the strangeness to Daniel's smile, she makes no effort to acknowledge it. Adults are strange but predictable at turns, much in the same way kids her age are too. Why that is and how she understands it, she doesn't quite get — something in her magic, she thinks, and the way it feels for others. (In the end, not a big deal and so she doesn't dwell on it.) But where some people would take such empathy and turn it outwards, directing it towards others with a kind of generous compassion, Cora manipulates it inward, reeling in the people around her with its afterglow wake. Selfish in the way Amyranth raised her to be. A model daughter.
The swing tips slightly to one side as she shifts her weight, stooping just far enough to tickle the top of the goat's fuzzy head. ] Could make 'em spell out your name and everything, marching band style, [ she says but knows, in the end, David would take the offer. (The thought rankles her ego a little bit, but what sixteen year old girl didn't take that sort of thing personally.) ]
[ One would think, with the way the hyena sleeps somewhere underneath his skin (courtesy of their growing coven, the first kiss and last parting gift), that animals might react differently. But they don't, at least not in Daniel's experience, which maybe means that everything is less about nature and more about balance. It suits him just fine, that school of thinking. The blame game is cruel in a way that he's not very fond of.
He pulls his hand back when the dog licks his hand in a lazy kind of way. Daniel wipes his had on the leg of his jeans but doesn't quite stand, resting his arms on his knees. ]
Not really my style, ladybug. [ A quick glance upwards to the sky (not too chilly, not too warm) and he straightens, tucking the wicker under his arm again. From this angle, there's a few courgettes tucked in there too. ] You have plans for the day then, or do you have time to lend a hand?
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On summer afternoons like this one, she can be found on the porch of her parents' place, pushing herself idly back and forth on its swing seat — the old hinges complaining gently with the back and forth, back and forth, most of the real squeak having been worn out of its joints long ago. At her feet sit a cat, a dog and — oddly enough — a tiny baby goat. It bleats anxiously whenever someone approaches, the tiny bell tied round its neck twinkling as it flops its head about in protest. ]
Oh shush.
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He sets the wicker basket down and bends at the knees, making motions to pat whichever animal of Cora's mini-menagerie is most willing to humor him. ]
You could ask him politely, you know. Hasn't anyone taught you how to speak goat?
[ Ha ha. ]
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Now look what you've gone and done. [ She doesn't seem annoyed in the least. ] Aren't you supposed to be delivering zen, not uppity baby farm animals? [ Before Daniel can answer Cora gives demonstrative wiggle of her fingers through the air, fingertips tracing ancient lines that leave a rose-colored haze in their wake. She then blows the vaguely sigil-shaped cloud in the goat's direction and it slows its trot down to a sheepish pace. Instead of complaining, it seems to apologize with its next bleet before finally coming to sit back down at her feet, closer than before. ] And FYI, I do speak goat.
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Who says I can't do both? [ Eventually, Daniel decides to chance it with the dog, giving it a quick rub behind its ears. He's sure that it's the same mangy beast who ruined his tomatoes the year before. To the spirit of new beginnings and all that, then. ]
Do you think you could wrangle my caterpillars into behaving now, while we're playing animal tamers?
no subject
The swing tips slightly to one side as she shifts her weight, stooping just far enough to tickle the top of the goat's fuzzy head. ] Could make 'em spell out your name and everything, marching band style, [ she says but knows, in the end, David would take the offer. (The thought rankles her ego a little bit, but what sixteen year old girl didn't take that sort of thing personally.) ]
no subject
He pulls his hand back when the dog licks his hand in a lazy kind of way. Daniel wipes his had on the leg of his jeans but doesn't quite stand, resting his arms on his knees. ]
Not really my style, ladybug. [ A quick glance upwards to the sky (not too chilly, not too warm) and he straightens, tucking the wicker under his arm again. From this angle, there's a few courgettes tucked in there too. ] You have plans for the day then, or do you have time to lend a hand?