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Charred Feather
Nov. 13th, 2011 04:14 pmStory:Charred Feather
Prompt: Character
WC:1436
Genre:Urban Fantasy
A/N. For those not aware, yes this is part of a continuing story about Raven. It is also part of a month long challenge that![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
keppiehed and I have to use these characters and write an interlocking story about them. I for one am enjoying the side challenge,as I hope you are also.
When you spend all of your time being able to slide from era to era, it becomes easy to forget exactly when something has happened. One of the constants of the entire Mythic Community had always been the enmity between Raven and Coyote. There was always a certain amount of competition between the various Trickster, but faced with outsiders they generally pulled together. But even then there was a strain between Raven and Coyote. It was just one of those facts of life though. Like the gullibility of humans or the eventual appearance of some sort of weather the hatred of Raven and Coyote for each other had always been and would always be. These were the characters, after all, that much of the Community revolved around. Even though Raven was often gone and Coyote was often nursing an injury or a grudge. Usually as it happens, toward Raven.
Which is all well and good, except for the small fact that it was not true. Once upon a time Coyote and a Raven had been best of friends. Not the Raven of now but the original Raven. What had happened to the original Raven nobody really knew. But again, by now everyone had forgotten that there was a different Raven in the beginning days. There are those, old even by the standards of the Mythical, who may remember. For it was one of their member who, it is said, was responsible for Raven becoming. First to escape death as a raven and then to move beyond Death into an embrace of Life in the Streets of Laurel.
The truth is that most of the hostility has been carried by Coyote. He once told Kitsune that something just smelled wrong about Raven. Was he being literal? That is a possibility. Perhaps there is something in Coyote that remembers the old Raven. It might be that Coyote just does not think it right that a Trickster would ever do anything good for the humans they walked among. Not that Raven was not above tricking the occasional human. But it always turned out that they were never what the humans would consider 'good'. It had gotten so that it was cactus spike in Coyote's fur.
Of course it might just be that in almost every confrontation they have had, it is Raven who comes out ahead. The few who knew what was going on had a saying. “Coyote was born to the job, while Raven won it on merit.” But then they did not know what was happening far and when away.
Raven slid down to the momentary skeleton of the trees in a controlled glide. If he had been in human form he would have smiled. He remembered when he had first started coming here these same branches had been a riot of blossoms. Now they were, almost like tricksters, hiding their vitality against the coming Winter. Though the windows had become fogged up from thought and conversation, he knew the room well enough to be able to describe it all. Or at least the bits that mattered. Like the shadow her finger would cast on the table as she reached for coffee.
It was hard to believe, Raven thought, that he almost had not come here the first time. Sometimes it seemed that the longer time he spent as Trickster the more Trickster he became. When Joshua had suggested he pay a visit to the coffee shop in this horrible confusion of a time period, he had almost said no, just on general principles. Joshua never exactly told him that he had to do anything. In fact he doubted that Joshua really had to order anyone to do anything. Some people did it anyway from love of Joshua, and some did it because Joshua was, well, Joshua. But Raven had been enjoying some time away from any humans except those of Laurel, who did not exactly count as human. Plus he had just been within a decade of this particular time period, and he was still getting bits of fear and anger out of his plumage that had been blown there.
Joshua waited patiently for Raven to decide. Which Raven personally thought was just totally unfair. Ravens had, in their general nature, little use for patience. While Sycamore trees, regardless of how sentient they were, seemed to have need for little but patience. And Raven knew that if he were to say anything right now he would most likely sound petulant, and he hated sounding human. Even though, as some people reminded him, he had started out as one.
Which was another reason, he knew when he had to think about it, that Joshua sent him on these jaunts. He could blend better than a lot of the inhabitants of Laurel. Of course it helped that he was handsome, and brave and witty. Joshua sighed through his branches again as though he knew what Raven had been thinking. Wait, of course he knew, how else would a Sycamore tree communicate than with telepathy.
So there was someone else who needed Laurel for help. Or who had a quality that Laurel could use. Often it was a blend of the two more than anything. People with qualities and abilities often had trouble in the outside world. In his own way, he supposed that he had been one of them. And they had certainly taken a chance on him,. Not once, but twice.
Okay, he had to admit to himself, he was stalling,. He knew he would make the trip. And he knew the odds were that he would probably end up liking the person. Thus it was that he had gotten the time and location directions from Joshua and spread his wings. He did a slow glide over Laurel once or twice just because the drafts of Laurel were like filling your wings with laughter and comfort.
And that is how he first found her. Apart from Joshua, she became his secret. There were other spaces where he led her back to Laurel. There were spaces where she found Laurel on her own. There were spaces where they became lovers. But this was the first space. It was here he found out how special she was, and here where he had left a token of that specialness.
But it was here that he could not bring himself to approach her. There were other times and spaces for that. This is where he just did his best to get her to understand for herself how special she was. He was the fellow who opened the door for her and was soon forgotten. Or the one standing in front of her while waiting for coffee. Or perhaps just that minute instant when you think that there is someone watching, but there is nobody there, just a raven winging its way through the sunset.
He waited until nobody was watching and then drifted down from the branches, assuming human form as he did. Today he was a bit taller than usual, as he often was here. He wore a black turtleneck under a denim jacket and jeans with a pair of black boots that seemed to hold the coming night in their shine.
He pushed open the door with a semismile but then stopped. Something was wrong. There was the soft feel of time displaced in the room that should not have been possible. Too many people seemed to be dealing with headaches that were often the effect of humans witnessing magic.
He moved toward her table and found it empty except for an empty coffee cup, one of his own feathers and the lingering smell of wild fur. Coyote, he thought to himself, trying to get a grasp on what had happened and what to do. Coyote had her.
Several people who saw his expression looked away quickly and found an excuse to leave. Magic gone angry is one of those events that should, in a normal life, be left to childhood closet or under the bed dreams. Raven stormed, almost literally, out of the coffee shop, leaving behind an empty coffee cup and a charred feather.
For just a moment his instincts were back at the beginning and he ran down the cobblestone sidewalk. At the last moment before reaching the corner he reached out and slid wingwise into the void he needed to search for them. He should not have left her alone like that he should, he should not, he should they all reverberated as he searched in the twin pronged path of Redemption or Revenge.
Prompt: Character
WC:1436
Genre:Urban Fantasy
A/N. For those not aware, yes this is part of a continuing story about Raven. It is also part of a month long challenge that
keppiehed and I have to use these characters and write an interlocking story about them. I for one am enjoying the side challenge,as I hope you are also. When you spend all of your time being able to slide from era to era, it becomes easy to forget exactly when something has happened. One of the constants of the entire Mythic Community had always been the enmity between Raven and Coyote. There was always a certain amount of competition between the various Trickster, but faced with outsiders they generally pulled together. But even then there was a strain between Raven and Coyote. It was just one of those facts of life though. Like the gullibility of humans or the eventual appearance of some sort of weather the hatred of Raven and Coyote for each other had always been and would always be. These were the characters, after all, that much of the Community revolved around. Even though Raven was often gone and Coyote was often nursing an injury or a grudge. Usually as it happens, toward Raven.
Which is all well and good, except for the small fact that it was not true. Once upon a time Coyote and a Raven had been best of friends. Not the Raven of now but the original Raven. What had happened to the original Raven nobody really knew. But again, by now everyone had forgotten that there was a different Raven in the beginning days. There are those, old even by the standards of the Mythical, who may remember. For it was one of their member who, it is said, was responsible for Raven becoming. First to escape death as a raven and then to move beyond Death into an embrace of Life in the Streets of Laurel.
The truth is that most of the hostility has been carried by Coyote. He once told Kitsune that something just smelled wrong about Raven. Was he being literal? That is a possibility. Perhaps there is something in Coyote that remembers the old Raven. It might be that Coyote just does not think it right that a Trickster would ever do anything good for the humans they walked among. Not that Raven was not above tricking the occasional human. But it always turned out that they were never what the humans would consider 'good'. It had gotten so that it was cactus spike in Coyote's fur.
Of course it might just be that in almost every confrontation they have had, it is Raven who comes out ahead. The few who knew what was going on had a saying. “Coyote was born to the job, while Raven won it on merit.” But then they did not know what was happening far and when away.
Raven slid down to the momentary skeleton of the trees in a controlled glide. If he had been in human form he would have smiled. He remembered when he had first started coming here these same branches had been a riot of blossoms. Now they were, almost like tricksters, hiding their vitality against the coming Winter. Though the windows had become fogged up from thought and conversation, he knew the room well enough to be able to describe it all. Or at least the bits that mattered. Like the shadow her finger would cast on the table as she reached for coffee.
It was hard to believe, Raven thought, that he almost had not come here the first time. Sometimes it seemed that the longer time he spent as Trickster the more Trickster he became. When Joshua had suggested he pay a visit to the coffee shop in this horrible confusion of a time period, he had almost said no, just on general principles. Joshua never exactly told him that he had to do anything. In fact he doubted that Joshua really had to order anyone to do anything. Some people did it anyway from love of Joshua, and some did it because Joshua was, well, Joshua. But Raven had been enjoying some time away from any humans except those of Laurel, who did not exactly count as human. Plus he had just been within a decade of this particular time period, and he was still getting bits of fear and anger out of his plumage that had been blown there.
Joshua waited patiently for Raven to decide. Which Raven personally thought was just totally unfair. Ravens had, in their general nature, little use for patience. While Sycamore trees, regardless of how sentient they were, seemed to have need for little but patience. And Raven knew that if he were to say anything right now he would most likely sound petulant, and he hated sounding human. Even though, as some people reminded him, he had started out as one.
Which was another reason, he knew when he had to think about it, that Joshua sent him on these jaunts. He could blend better than a lot of the inhabitants of Laurel. Of course it helped that he was handsome, and brave and witty. Joshua sighed through his branches again as though he knew what Raven had been thinking. Wait, of course he knew, how else would a Sycamore tree communicate than with telepathy.
So there was someone else who needed Laurel for help. Or who had a quality that Laurel could use. Often it was a blend of the two more than anything. People with qualities and abilities often had trouble in the outside world. In his own way, he supposed that he had been one of them. And they had certainly taken a chance on him,. Not once, but twice.
Okay, he had to admit to himself, he was stalling,. He knew he would make the trip. And he knew the odds were that he would probably end up liking the person. Thus it was that he had gotten the time and location directions from Joshua and spread his wings. He did a slow glide over Laurel once or twice just because the drafts of Laurel were like filling your wings with laughter and comfort.
And that is how he first found her. Apart from Joshua, she became his secret. There were other spaces where he led her back to Laurel. There were spaces where she found Laurel on her own. There were spaces where they became lovers. But this was the first space. It was here he found out how special she was, and here where he had left a token of that specialness.
But it was here that he could not bring himself to approach her. There were other times and spaces for that. This is where he just did his best to get her to understand for herself how special she was. He was the fellow who opened the door for her and was soon forgotten. Or the one standing in front of her while waiting for coffee. Or perhaps just that minute instant when you think that there is someone watching, but there is nobody there, just a raven winging its way through the sunset.
He waited until nobody was watching and then drifted down from the branches, assuming human form as he did. Today he was a bit taller than usual, as he often was here. He wore a black turtleneck under a denim jacket and jeans with a pair of black boots that seemed to hold the coming night in their shine.
He pushed open the door with a semismile but then stopped. Something was wrong. There was the soft feel of time displaced in the room that should not have been possible. Too many people seemed to be dealing with headaches that were often the effect of humans witnessing magic.
He moved toward her table and found it empty except for an empty coffee cup, one of his own feathers and the lingering smell of wild fur. Coyote, he thought to himself, trying to get a grasp on what had happened and what to do. Coyote had her.
Several people who saw his expression looked away quickly and found an excuse to leave. Magic gone angry is one of those events that should, in a normal life, be left to childhood closet or under the bed dreams. Raven stormed, almost literally, out of the coffee shop, leaving behind an empty coffee cup and a charred feather.
For just a moment his instincts were back at the beginning and he ran down the cobblestone sidewalk. At the last moment before reaching the corner he reached out and slid wingwise into the void he needed to search for them. He should not have left her alone like that he should, he should not, he should they all reverberated as he searched in the twin pronged path of Redemption or Revenge.
