londoncallingrpg | Gathering Post

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Gathering Post

The Queen's official birthday celebrations might wait for the better, brighter weather of June, instead of the actual date just passed, but there was no lack of things to do in London this week, even if it was cooler and damper than the week before. St. George's day festivities were scattered throughout the city, competing with celebrations of the four hundredth anniversary of Shakespeare's death. Getting around the city could be even more difficult than usual on Sunday, with multiple streets closed off for the London marathon.

There were exhibits - everything from graphic design to a survey of Sicilian history to the influence of underwear. And the same level of diversity could be found whether you were in the mood for music, theatre, good food, or late night fun. There was something for everyone, and no matter your plans - or lack of plans - you never quite knew what you were going to find, or who might find you.

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"Running?" Winter asked, looking confused- Then upset as he realized who Sunny must have seen him run from.

"I wasn't running. People only run when they've done something wrong. ...I didn't do anything wrong. I... I had a place to be," he lied quickly.

"Winter, you took off like a bat out of hell," Sunny answered with an arched eyebrow. "People don't do that unless the somewhere they've got to be is 'oh dear God, anywhere but here.'"

"Why would a bat be in hell?" Winter asked, looking confused, then shaking his head and sighing. "That was... It was Faizel, Master Aspid's student. I- I was worried he would be angry. That he would think I killed Aspid. ...But I didn't! I didn't, I swear it. I would never. I'm a good pixie, and pixies don't kill."

"Saying," Sunny explained, briefly and automatically. Though really, she'd have to think about it later.

"Is that really all it was?"

Winter looked confused then, and he frowned slightly.

"What do you mean? What else would it be?"

"Did he hurt you?" She asked frankly.

"Faizel? ...No," Winter replied, still innocent enough that he didn't quite understand why Sunny would even ask that.

He frowned then though, and bit his bottom lip nervously, as if debating if he should share what he said next.

"Aspid harmed him though. I saw. ...I saw a lot. Aspid sometimes forgot I was there, I think. Or maybe he just didn't care what I saw, or what I knew."

"I see," she said quietly. That was something else, then.

"I got to talk to him," she went on. "I liked him." Sunny did not add that she had tried not to until she knew something of the truth.

"Not more than you like me though," Winter pressed, needing to be favoured, even if he knew, on some level, it wasn't realistic to believe he could be everyone's favourite. ...He was just greedy sometimes.

Sunny smiled and allowed, "Well, I'm not offering to punch anybody in the throat on his behalf yet."

Winter peeped happily at that news, and rested his head on Sunny's shoulder again.

"Will you tell me about your book?" he asked.

"It's a play," she explained, not moving it closer to show him so she wouldn't disturb the bird. "About a king with three daughters. He's old and tired of ruling, and decides to split his kingdom among his girls, based on how much they love him. The elder two, eager for power, flatter him. The youngest, his favorite and the one who truly loves him, refuses to take part, believing the contest cheap and tasteless. So he disowns her, and gives the kingdom over to his older daughters. Only what is a king after he gives his kingdom away?"

"That's mean, and dumb," Winter frowned. "It doesn't sound like a happy story."

Sunny shook her head. "It's a tragedy. Probably the bleakest one Shakespeare ever wrote."

"Why would you read sad things?" he asked softly, the tone of his voice promoting Philip to chirp a cheerful little song.

"You can't just invite yourself to live with people, Philip," Winter scolded.

Philip bounced a bit, chirping away again.

"I don't think that's true..." Winter frowned.

The budgie chirped louder though, insistent.

"Fine! I'll ask," the pixie huffed, rolling his eyes, then looking at Sunny. "Philip says if you're sad, he will come keep you happy with songs."

The budgie bounced a bit more, and sang another little song.

"He says he doesn't take up much room."

This... was an interesting conversation. But having been both a translator and someone who needed translation, she figured it would be best to address Philip directly. "Do you mean like visit? Or stay?"

She hadn't forgotten Winter's question, but it could hold a moment.

Philip chirped eagerly, bobbing a bit and looking a little excited.

Winter tilted his head slightly, as though he wasn't sure how to translate that, then carefully picked his words, giving Philip time to correct him if he got something wrong.

"He says to stay, but to also go when he wants," Winter said, shushing the bird when it started to get excited again. "I'm getting to that part, Philip. Calm down! ...He says he doesn't like cages, but he is a neat bird. The cleanest in all of London."

Sunny thought about that. Parakeets were small, and they didn't eat very much. And, truth be told, there were times she wouldn't mind a little companion. "I think I could work something out," she said, her mind already going over what supplies she'd need and what spellwork she'd need to do so Philip could come and go at times she wasn't home.

Philip peeped happily, bouncing in place.

"I thought you liked staying with me," Winter pouted.

Philip sang a little song, fluttering over and landing on Winter's shoulder, giving him gentle pecks and grooming him between chirps.

"I suppose that's true. Keats isn't very fond of birds... Well, yes, of course I'd let you visit. I'm a very good host..."

By the time Philip was done, Winter seemed to be sulking less, and the plump budgie fluttered over to see Sunny, tugging on her earring and singing a happy little tune.

Sunny laughed, not bothered with the way Philip was chirping right in her ear. "Anyway, people read and watch sad stories for all kinds of reasons. One of the reasons is it helps us understand and deal with why bad things happen to good people."

"Oh? Why do bad things happen to good people then?" the pixie asked curiously.

"It's a deceptively simple question," Sunny said. "But I think this play at least says that some of the reasons are that everyone has faults, and those faults trip them up. Lear gives away his kingdom but still expects to be treated like a king because he's too proud for his own good. What's worse, his pride blinds him to the fact that his older daughters don't actually care for him, they just flattered him to get what they wanted. Sometimes people just take things for granted and don't see how good they have it until what they've got is gone, like Lear was with his third daughter. And sometimes..." her expression turned a little mischievous, "sometimes other people suck and just happen to good people."

"Oh," Winter said softly, his little pixie heart sinking as he listened to her words."That's so unfair though," he said softly.

Sunny risked leaning over enough to kiss his cheek softly before letting Philip have her earring back. "It is. But sometimes it helps to know that sometimes when things go wrong, it's never as simple as 'I was bad, and I deserve it.'"

Edited 2016-05-09 05:03 (UTC)

Winter nodded a little, then wrapped his arms tightly around himself.

"Do you think bad things ever happen because you do deserve it though? Do you think... Do you think a person can be cursed?" he asked quietly.

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