Post by Sheila Cooper on Dec 26, 2010 7:14:31 GMT -8
Sheila Cooper had never had a real Christmas tree in her life. Where were you going to get live evergreens in the middle of the desert? Somehow she vaguely regretted that, now that she was in the Evergreen State, they'd still bought a fake tree (if an awfully nice one) to decorate and put up. Still, she couldn't be too bothered; there was too much to do to worry about watering a damn tree every day.
Mat was in the kitchen struggling with dinner. He'd insisted that he'd cook the entire meal, and Sheila had let him. She figured he was making up for all the years he'd been absent during the Yule season, despite knowing it was her very favorite time of year. She heard a yelp and a short stream of what she was sure was cursing in Old Norse and smiled to herself. Men did go so far out of their way to impress a girl; she'd always been one to appreciate that. She lit the pine-scented candle in her hand and placed it on a shelf above the television before she went to sit back down on the couch.
The twinkling white lights from the tree and the Christmas music coming from the television (their cable had a great seasonal music channel up in the 900's) weren't conducive to the work she was trying to do. The chimera that curled up on her lap wasn't either. A stack of her old research journals sat on the couch, and she'd been methodically going through each one since they'd finished opening presents, trying to unearth an Art that would allow Muninn to do what she wanted it to do. Huginn would use Tattletale to allow for far-seeing; that much was obvious, but the other needed something a little more esoteric. She sighed and tossed aside the journal she'd been looking through. She'd need to go somewhere else to research, that was all there was to it.
She picked up a pad of paper lying off to one side, examined the sketch of a suit of armor, went over the notes scribbled around the sides. Her own armor and sword... she was a Knight, after all, and in a war zone these days. Despite the quiet feel of Christmas she was sure it wouldn't stay quiet for too much longer. When did anything in the fae world stay quiet for long? The problem was, she could never just make the obvious Treasures, so while she was sure most people would suggest Oakenshield for the armor she just couldn't settle for something that... mundane. Except, it would be useful. She sat there going around and around again for a few minutes before she tossed that aside too.
It was useless. Working on Christmas was just a stupid idea. Sheila sat back and stared at the tree for a while, letting the flicker of the lights soothe her. There were far fewer presents under the tree than there ought to have been. Her family would have shipped hers off to a friend in New York who'd probably faithfully store them until she could come out of hiding and claim them. Her mentor Henry, knowing damn well she wasn't in New York even if he didn't know where she really was, would just save anything he'd intended to give her for later... if he didn't just disown her for running off with an Eshu. The presents she'd bought months ago for her family and friends--no last minute shopper, Sheila Cooper--had probably been wrapped and handed out by her brother.
They'd be having dinner by now. Her mother would've had one too many cocktails and surely be complaining about her daughter's absence. Sheila would actually have liked to see the shouting match that would ensue between her mother and her uncles; they always found something to fight about. Her brother Will would be there with his wife and their new baby. Jenny was probably old enough to sit up and have some of the food now--where did the time go?
Sheila should be there. Mat should be, too, he'd given her a ring and promised lifelong fidelity (if only in the emotional sense), so he'd be subjected to family holidays now. She should be showing off that ring, which even her mother would appreciate, playing with her niece, refereeing the arguments. Henry would drop by, with the excuse that both Sheila and Will had worked for him so wasn't an old man allowed to come see his favorite employees? Later she'd head out to the casinos with Mat and their old school friends, like they'd always promised to do when they were old enough.
The damn television started playing "I'll be Home for Christmas" halfway through all this imagining. Sheila wasn't usually given to sentimentality, or tearing up at songs--usually if music gave her an emotion it was anger or lust--but she couldn't help it, now. There wouldn't be snow in Las Vegas, and mistletoe was a bad idea when her mother drank, but the song still made her cry. She couldn't go home, now. She couldn't even call them. The way people around here talked, it was entirely possible she'd be dead before the danger passed, so she'd never get home.
For a moment, Sheila fervently wished she could just be normal. A normal girl, sitting at home with her normal family and her normal fiance. She'd never be entirely normal, sure, but would it be so bad to think that all of this, down to the chimerical pets and pests that inhabited her living space, were all just childhood fantasies? She'd been pretty happy for a while there, between moving out and Chrysalis. Good job, good boyfriend, good friends. She missed all of that, she missed her family--even her domineering, annoying, Banal, controlling shrew of a mother. Why in holy hell did Sheila Cooper's life have to be dominated by Nogah's obsessions, by these research journals and chimera? She just wanted to be a mechanic and marry her racer-gambler fiance, and have a bunch of completely beautiful children whose dreams she'd gladly nurture. She just wanted to go home and be normal.
Sheila shuddered and shied away from the line of thought. No, no, she didn't really want that. She loved her workshop and her colorful companions. She loved the excitement and adventure. She was happy to be a Nocker--however much she groused otherwise--and she'd find a way to have kids and a nice life without Forgetting, war zone or no. Wanting to be normal was very, very bad.
Still, she was homesick. She peered over at the telephone. She'd avoided calling her parents because she didn't want them to be in danger, but Henry could protect himself. Henry ought to know where she was anyhow. Sheila wanted to have some better political contacts, too, and Henry vouching for her would help that. And anyway, the Nocker grump would blow his top when he found out she was engaged to Mat.
Thinking of this made Sheila smile. Henry's swearing would be almost like being home. She got up, ignoring the yowl from the chimerical lion cub dumped off her lap, and went over to pick up the phone. She took a deep breath. It would be safe. It would be fine. The people chasing her didn't know her real name, and she hadn't told anyone here her Fae name. It would be fine. She picked up the receiver and dialed.
"Hey, Henry, it's Sheila..."
Mat was in the kitchen struggling with dinner. He'd insisted that he'd cook the entire meal, and Sheila had let him. She figured he was making up for all the years he'd been absent during the Yule season, despite knowing it was her very favorite time of year. She heard a yelp and a short stream of what she was sure was cursing in Old Norse and smiled to herself. Men did go so far out of their way to impress a girl; she'd always been one to appreciate that. She lit the pine-scented candle in her hand and placed it on a shelf above the television before she went to sit back down on the couch.
The twinkling white lights from the tree and the Christmas music coming from the television (their cable had a great seasonal music channel up in the 900's) weren't conducive to the work she was trying to do. The chimera that curled up on her lap wasn't either. A stack of her old research journals sat on the couch, and she'd been methodically going through each one since they'd finished opening presents, trying to unearth an Art that would allow Muninn to do what she wanted it to do. Huginn would use Tattletale to allow for far-seeing; that much was obvious, but the other needed something a little more esoteric. She sighed and tossed aside the journal she'd been looking through. She'd need to go somewhere else to research, that was all there was to it.
She picked up a pad of paper lying off to one side, examined the sketch of a suit of armor, went over the notes scribbled around the sides. Her own armor and sword... she was a Knight, after all, and in a war zone these days. Despite the quiet feel of Christmas she was sure it wouldn't stay quiet for too much longer. When did anything in the fae world stay quiet for long? The problem was, she could never just make the obvious Treasures, so while she was sure most people would suggest Oakenshield for the armor she just couldn't settle for something that... mundane. Except, it would be useful. She sat there going around and around again for a few minutes before she tossed that aside too.
It was useless. Working on Christmas was just a stupid idea. Sheila sat back and stared at the tree for a while, letting the flicker of the lights soothe her. There were far fewer presents under the tree than there ought to have been. Her family would have shipped hers off to a friend in New York who'd probably faithfully store them until she could come out of hiding and claim them. Her mentor Henry, knowing damn well she wasn't in New York even if he didn't know where she really was, would just save anything he'd intended to give her for later... if he didn't just disown her for running off with an Eshu. The presents she'd bought months ago for her family and friends--no last minute shopper, Sheila Cooper--had probably been wrapped and handed out by her brother.
They'd be having dinner by now. Her mother would've had one too many cocktails and surely be complaining about her daughter's absence. Sheila would actually have liked to see the shouting match that would ensue between her mother and her uncles; they always found something to fight about. Her brother Will would be there with his wife and their new baby. Jenny was probably old enough to sit up and have some of the food now--where did the time go?
Sheila should be there. Mat should be, too, he'd given her a ring and promised lifelong fidelity (if only in the emotional sense), so he'd be subjected to family holidays now. She should be showing off that ring, which even her mother would appreciate, playing with her niece, refereeing the arguments. Henry would drop by, with the excuse that both Sheila and Will had worked for him so wasn't an old man allowed to come see his favorite employees? Later she'd head out to the casinos with Mat and their old school friends, like they'd always promised to do when they were old enough.
The damn television started playing "I'll be Home for Christmas" halfway through all this imagining. Sheila wasn't usually given to sentimentality, or tearing up at songs--usually if music gave her an emotion it was anger or lust--but she couldn't help it, now. There wouldn't be snow in Las Vegas, and mistletoe was a bad idea when her mother drank, but the song still made her cry. She couldn't go home, now. She couldn't even call them. The way people around here talked, it was entirely possible she'd be dead before the danger passed, so she'd never get home.
For a moment, Sheila fervently wished she could just be normal. A normal girl, sitting at home with her normal family and her normal fiance. She'd never be entirely normal, sure, but would it be so bad to think that all of this, down to the chimerical pets and pests that inhabited her living space, were all just childhood fantasies? She'd been pretty happy for a while there, between moving out and Chrysalis. Good job, good boyfriend, good friends. She missed all of that, she missed her family--even her domineering, annoying, Banal, controlling shrew of a mother. Why in holy hell did Sheila Cooper's life have to be dominated by Nogah's obsessions, by these research journals and chimera? She just wanted to be a mechanic and marry her racer-gambler fiance, and have a bunch of completely beautiful children whose dreams she'd gladly nurture. She just wanted to go home and be normal.
Sheila shuddered and shied away from the line of thought. No, no, she didn't really want that. She loved her workshop and her colorful companions. She loved the excitement and adventure. She was happy to be a Nocker--however much she groused otherwise--and she'd find a way to have kids and a nice life without Forgetting, war zone or no. Wanting to be normal was very, very bad.
Still, she was homesick. She peered over at the telephone. She'd avoided calling her parents because she didn't want them to be in danger, but Henry could protect himself. Henry ought to know where she was anyhow. Sheila wanted to have some better political contacts, too, and Henry vouching for her would help that. And anyway, the Nocker grump would blow his top when he found out she was engaged to Mat.
Thinking of this made Sheila smile. Henry's swearing would be almost like being home. She got up, ignoring the yowl from the chimerical lion cub dumped off her lap, and went over to pick up the phone. She took a deep breath. It would be safe. It would be fine. The people chasing her didn't know her real name, and she hadn't told anyone here her Fae name. It would be fine. She picked up the receiver and dialed.
"Hey, Henry, it's Sheila..."