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Friends Both in Need, Indeed

April 16th, 2010 (01:40 am)

current location: Diagon and beyond
current mood: blah

I’m beginnin’ to get the itch for true spring, I am. While I don’t usually mind the cold and clammy air of winter all that much, it’s been kind of a tough one to get through what with nobody to keep my hands nor my heart warm. It’s starting to feel like there’s a chill settlin’ in to stay, and much as I don’t know what the hell I wanna do with my outside-work life right now, I know I don’t want that.

So when one of our pulverized potion ingredient suppliers comes up short a delivery wizard, and we need it fast at the Wheezes, I volunteer to make the walk down to the farthest end of Diagon. It’s kinda nice down there, really. Turns into somethin’ of a country lane down there, little brook off to the side babblin’ along through a little woods. Figure the air an’ the lack o’ four walls around me might just do me some good.

I head off ‘bout mid-afternoon, tryin’ to politely, if not energetical-like, return the smiles and waves of the people on the Alley I know, and walkin’ a bit faster to get on beyond ‘em quicker too.

I leave the lane about the time I run outta shops around me and figure I’ll wander the brook for a bit, maybe toss in a rock or two – or maybe even a knut for luck iffin I’ve got one with me. But it looks like someone’s beat me to it, this brook-walkin’ thing. And it’s a familiar someone, too. She looks like she’s deep in thought, and with that one, I know deep thought can be a coupla planets away.

“Luna?” I say, tryin not to be loud and speakin' from a few meters away so that I don’t startle her outta her thoughts too fast.

Both her hands are clasped at the front of ‘er large coat and I see the sun what’s coming in catch red and blue flashes on her hand. One hand slides up and a finger hooks over her chin for a mo, fore tappin and she looks up, like her finger’s the one what heard me and was bringin her to attention.

She looks for a second, then tilts ‘er head to the side and smiles. “Oh. Hello Fred or George.”

"Hello, Luna," I tell her. "And it's Fred, not George. No problem ya didn't know, but just so ya do now."

“Oh, alright. It makes it a little easier to talk, I think, so I can just say one name. You look rather introspective.”

"Do I? Introspective, eh? Well, can't say as many people have ever described me like that, but then you've never been like many other people," I tell her."And I should tell you I see that as a good thing."

Her smile widens. “You certainly are unlike others, yourself. Nobody else might have suggested I have a business. But if everybody were the same, there would be no progress, would there?”

"No, I don't s'pose there would." I look around her to see what she mighta been doin', if she was doin' anything at all."So...you workin' on anything down here, or ya just seein' what the brook tells ya? Rumour has it they're terrible babblers. Might be tough to understand it, though."

“Oh, I don’t know,” she sighs. “I was hoping it could help, but perhaps I’m grasping at nargles.”

"Hmm - yeah, nargles could be distracting at at times like these, I'll give ya that," I agree. "But, if I'm not imposin' or nothin', you said you were hopin' the brook would help. I'm just a lowly wizard 'stead of a brook, but is there anythin' I might be able to help ya with?"

She sighs again, but this time it’s a bit more disappointed and a mite testy. “Nargles aren’t real.”

"Real or not, they can still be distracting," I tell her. "Daydreams aren't real neither, but I know I've had some damned distracting daydreams. Anyway, back to this help thing. Anythin' I can do?" A sudden shiver goes through me. "Not too warm out here yet, is it? Sunshine or no."

“I suppose I don’t notice,” she says, looking down at the water, “living in Scotland as we do, but perhaps you’re right.”

"Yeah, perhaps ya don't, but I have to break it to ya, I am right." I look back toward the village and notice a few tiny new shops at the end and toward the back of the old buildings that hold the suppliers' place. Looks like one's got flowers, one's got - can't tell that one, and closest to us, one with what looks like a brand new sign that says 'Sereni-Tea'. "Hey Luna, you ever see those places before? Those little shops up there."

She tilts her head to one side and looks up. “Only the tea shop. They have a lovely selection. Do you fancy warming up over a pot?”

"Oh yeah," I tell her, beginnin' to feel my toes go numb as a stiff breeze blows down the brook. "I fancy that a whole lot. I won't be interruptin' ya from what you got goin' down here, right? Iffin we head on up there all soonish-like?"

“No, I suppose you would be more help than the brook, in any case, since you’re one too.”

I blink at her for a mo. "Am I now? And what would I be one of too?" Yeah, this oughtta be good.

Her eyes go all wide, lookin about twice as big, pale as they are. “Well, like me. Not stuck, anyhow, at least I don’t think. But perhaps you are and that’s why you’re here, too.”

Long as I've known Luna, she's always had this uncanny way of cuttin' right to the chase and knowin' more than anybody can ever figure out how. "Hmm. Well, yeah I suppose you could say I am stuck, in a way. But I'm not sure it's in a way I can work myself out of right soon, or maybe even work myself out of by myself. Hard to tell, really."

“Perhaps a bit of company could help us both,” she muses, lookin up at the tea shop. “At least nudge us loose from the dried mud.”


Posted by: nm_fred (nm_fred)
Posted at: May 8th, 2010 08:53 am (UTC)

She looks up at the ceiling, sorta like in wonder, and just stares. Then, after a moment, she shakes herself our of it and says, “but what about your stuckedness?”

I think back a moment to what all we've talked about and I don't quite remember as we talked about that. Isn't really a grumble with me much as...other stuff. "My stuckedness?"

“Yes, you looked stuck when you came to the brook,” she reminds me.

"Ah yeah, well - reckon that sort o' stuckedness has a whole other source, darlin’," I tell her. "That's a person-to-person sorta stuckedness, not a person-to-invention sort."

“A person to person one?”

“'Yeah, I -" Not sure whether I oughtta start into the likes o' this with the likes o' Luna-moth. But what the hell? She's a right good listener and a good friend, and I don't s'pose she'll mind. "I kinda got into a person-to-person stuckedness after I broke up with my girlfriend Astrea last year. Didn't wanna see anybody at all at first - for months - only Geordie. But by now that's worn off a little and I kinda miss havin' somebody else to be close to. You know. Like a witch somebody. Though I dunno, not that either really. Just waitin' for life not to be blah."

“I never supposed you and George to be people who waited for life,” she tells me. “It always seemed to me that you went after it, even if it was trying to run away from you. But I know that being hurt very much by somebody that you love can make you feel like a person you’ve never been before. And also if you are the person who hurts the one you love, that must feel wretched.”

I think on that a mo, but it's not long till I realize she's right. "Suppose I got a little bit o' both o’ those tangled into the mix, I did. Hurt her without even knowin' it, true. And the whole thing did, er, does make me feel like a person I've never been before. Kinda feels loads like I lost the old Fred, iffin ya know what I mean. Can't find him nowheres."

“Isn’t it interesting how when you try to find something, you never can? It seems like it’s the only thing you can’t find, and you find things that you haven’t seen for years! So maybe you need to look for something else. I’m sure that you will come back. You’ve been yourself for so long, you must be instinct.”

"Yeah, wouldn't ya think?" I ask her, seeing as it makes perfect sense. "Not much else I can do about that, really."

“And perhaps that’s the answer for me, too,” she says, lookin into her teacup. “It’s so much simpler to say than to do, isn’t it?”

"That it is, Luna-moth. That it is," I say, taking another swig o' loverly green tea. Gotta say this honey stuff is pretty damned good. "Feels like I been tryin' to just look for somethin' else, or try not to try and find myself. But it doesn't seem to be helpin' much, that's true. Wonder how much longer it's gonna take? Or maybe that's part o' what I shouldn't be wonderin' too."

“Probably. I’m sure all this expectation is just making us worry and stress.”

"I'm sure you're probably right," I agree. "Just that it's hard to force yourself to forget about somethin', because you end up thinkin' about what you're tryin' to forget about, and that's the point. Kinda self-defeatin', really."

“Yes, not to mention that this is my livelihood and this is your life. So very much depends on it.”

"That doesn't help matters much, no. And I really hate to be relyin' on Geordie to have to do all the heavy liftin' at the shop - you know, figuratively and all that - while I'm figurin' out what the devil's wrong with me." I shake my head at both myself and the predicament.

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” she says, putting her hand on my arm. “Of course there isn’t.”

"Thanks, Luna," I tell her, all sincere-like. "I just kinda wish I could fast-forward to the part where I felt like me again. You know, skip all the tryin' to pretend nothin's wrong, and forget about the fact that I'm waitin' and waitin' and not thinkin' about how bloody long it's takin' to get back to normal. Or what's normal for me, anyway."

“Well, if I can help,” she offers, “please let me know.”

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