A new app has appeared on my phone: Clawde AI. It keeps suggesting I go out at night or eat raw steak. I do not want to do these things. I do not want to feel the bare earth under my feet nor howl at the moon.
[PM] Yeah, I could imagine.
My job doesn't.
But that is really fair.
I would imagine that it is good to meet new people for your job, though.
I mostly stick to asking questions.
But most anything these days is done online.
At least within my age range.
Most of my friends don't do much but chat online, haha.
Most of the friends I make online also live all over the place.
They are good to play video games with!
You figure?
Hm, well, that's not my kind of tv.
Most I've seen was about quirky houses or some such things.
Sometimes, some really weird stuff does seem to happen.
Once I was out in my yard, and I saw this figure walking in the shadows of the trees.
It threw a watermelon at my bird feeder.
But, then I woke up!
So it was just a dream, in the end, actually.
As for reality, nope, nothing I can think of.
It's all really normal.
I guess there could be worse things, right?
A lack of patience isn't so bad.
Oh!
I love that for her.
You're right.
Echo does seem to suit her much better.
I suppose I will need to go there to see her more often!
Right.
I had been friends with the old owner.
It had been a bit awkward going to the store for a while, knowing he wasn't owning it anymore.
It's good that you care that much about him, to do this for him.
I used to do it a lot when I got here, I didn't have much means for getting around.
I still skateboard sometimes here and there.
That's also nice to do!
I didn't learn to swim till I moved here, so I never appreciated just being out on the ocean, for a long time.
[pm] What is it you do for work again? It is nice that my job involves meeting people, on most days. Sometimes, I find it tiring. I don't mind speaking to people online either, though. I have recently been invited to play video games online. Royal match, I think?
We can agree to disagree about the town’s normalness, then. I think this one has quite a few oddities. The obsession with shrimp and cryptids alone, never mind the crater!
I have killed a few plants by overwatering, but I have become better at it. For Oliv It is nice to have Rory at the shop. She brings youthful energy. Can I have your word that you’ll come by?
Awkward? I suppose that is a way to describe it. I find it more […] sad and confronting in a way that plagues me. To sense his absence so clearly. There’s grief in the air. How did you know Oliver?
Ah, it is a means of transport, I suppose. I much prefer my car. Growing up we mostly went to lakes, but there’s something even bettr about the sea.
[pm] It has only happened the one time, and I have since stopped mopping the windows to keep it from happening again. I don't think a bird will mistake you as clear sky! You aren't transparent like glass.
@kellydays replied to your post “[User has been tasked with additional inspections,...”:
[pm] Nice to meet you, ma'am. Just before we go any further, I want to let you know this conversation has to be recorded and preserved for the WRFD records. I'm happy to speak privately, but I also have to keep the folks up top off my case.
Seems it came through the form; I'll make a note of it! [...] Can't schedule it, I'm afraid. [...] Also, I should let you know they might be set on separate days, to avoid the appearance of impropriety or favoritism. It's totally random. Hell, they don't even let me pick which places I'm goin'. I just update the business hours and the system spits out an itinerary.
[pm] Ah, I see. I am sorry to hear you are a cog in a bureaucratic machine. Do what you must.
A random inspection? It is almost like you do not trust me and other business owners to run our shops well. I suppose I will see you soon (a relative term in this case, as I don't know when 'soon' is, much to my chagrin) then. My business hours at Echo do tend to be flexible, though. Around full moons and when I
Okay. I will try not to do that. [ user will still do that. it's a habit. ]
I don't know what I consider myself. I've been told I am not always the most mature, but I am glad you think I can make wise points.
That sounds like such a wonderful way to spend your time. I think they are, yes. It is very nice that we still have them. I can also send you the link to it on YouTube or a streaming service, if you use any of those.
Maturity seems a flexible concept. I have been called immature at my old age, and it does not mean I am not also wise.
I wouldn't say the Fleetwood Mac we have now is the one we used to have, though. With Christine gone and Lindsey still fired ... The line up will never be the same. [...] I do not use streaming services and never will! I can do YouTube.
[User frowns.] Why can I not give this to Ishan? Well, if I can choose, I would like some gift cards and loyalty stamp cards (preferably full or near-full). I would also welcome a library or other membership card. Not to a gym, though.
I think they fit right in! Like all the scares, actors, sets, costumes, and scripts. They're just a little different from the usual. It's more like an experience that a stage production. [...] Hopefully not, but it'd be kind of funny if something did! Oh, Echo! I've passed by your store a few times. Never really gone inside though.
That makes sense. Like an improv show that people are made part of? Perhaps I will attend a haunted house this October, to look at it through a different lens. You should come inside, then. We have an excellent collection of records.
I would neverrrr. I would've made sure to clarify that, don't worry. You know like: Arts and crafts (derogatory). It was defo arts and crafts (complimentary), I will make sure not to make the same mistake again. I'm amazed by what people can do with their hands. [user is delighted to be known] I would, wouldn't I? The thing is, my ideas are always 13 out of 13, but it's the sitting down to make them happen that nerfs me.
[pm] Oh. My partner doesn't want one. And I know what you're thinking, Jade... why would you let someone cut your wings for a lifelong dream like that? And to that I say, I hear your concerns. But the missing piece of info is that I've made my partner fold in ways that would have the most intricate of origamis seethe with jealousy. She's more than earned to stand her ground on this. I respect it. It's a little suprising actually Like, you go! I'm putting my eyelashes away for something I know I can win. I will indulge you, if anything, I'm indulging myself, which is my fave thing to do. She invited me over to her place. I thought it was a booty call, she wanted to see ulcers. You'd think there's no way to misunderstand something like that, but we're living proof <3
LOL! I sure did! I'm glad you caught it, see... same wavelength. :) Good, maybe if we all blame the Wienermobile for our troubles, they will finally clear up the truth about their identity. What are you scapegoating it for?
Thank you for the clarification, I appreciate it. There are arts and crafts that should be spoken of derogatorily, of course. Diamond painting is amongst those. [...] Today's youth has no motivatio Then I suppose you don't really want to do them, do you?
[pm] Ah, respect for a partner is very important, I've heard. I figure bringing a whole dog into your household when the other does not want one would be a bad idea indeed, though it is sad that you disagree on this topic. [.......] Honestly, considering the way you are in conversation and how associative your mind seems, I can believe that you would mistake ulcers for a booty call. I'm not sure if that is a compliment or an insult, though I'm sure you'll take it as the former. You are so interesting
[ As a token of their appreciation for attending their party, Baz sends Cleo a large oil painting. In keeping with the theme of the party, the painting is of… Baz. At least they're clothed? ]
[ User is deeply amused by this gift, even if it disappears into her storage among many other paintings. Not after she has taken great interest into Baz' techniques. ]
[User has been tasked with additional inspections, given his recovery timeline. Presumably, he is plotting his revenge. First, by making some... edits to the copy.]
Howdy. Name's Kelly Brooks; I work for the WRFD. In the next couple of weeks, I'll be around to inspect y'all's fire alarms and such out at [User squints at the list, trying to parse what surely must be a typo.] EchoGarden. Is this some kind of New Age shit? If I need to message someone else, let me know!
[...] Also, it appears there's been an error in the automated system. Don't have an address for EchoGarden on file. Please fill out this update form at your earliest convenience. [User links said form.]
[pm] Hello Kelly Brooks, my name's Cleo Fiedler. When in the next couple of weeks? Is this a surprise visit, or can we schedule something?
I have filled in your form! It seems your system combined my two businesses (Echo and Everlasting Garden) into one. They are separate, though, despite being on the same street. Computers, hm? Untrustworthy, as always.
TIMING: mid-May
LOCATION: WR Community Center
PARTIES: Cleo @echoingmuse & Monica @maybemonica
SUMMARY: Cleo joins Monica's combat-themed Zumba class. The word combat is being used very loosely here.
WARNINGS: none!
There was a warden in town that knew her face. Cleo knew this was a problem, even if she was not entirely sure how to acutely take action about it. She had put her pocket knife in her bag again, and was considering stooping as low as a firearm, but that was not all she should be doing. Inaction was the death of art, and potentially also the death of her, if she did not find ways to defend herself.
A good thing then, that the community center was hosting a special dancing class that focused on combining dance and combat. Cleo had learned all her self defense skills through dance, as that was the chor gléow way. To fight was to know how to move your body, and dance was pretty much the same. She did not want to go to a class where she would have to punch a bag, as she did not see how that could possibly inspire her to fight someone properly. She needed stimulation. Not a jacked up man telling her all about how to attack the enemy right.
She showed up early, walking into the room reserved for dance lessons with excitement. Her excitement flipped a little when a familiar feeling washed over her — there was another fae here. She had already spotted one near the community garden that she assumed was a nymph, but found even more promise to find one in a more creative space. She moved forward to the only other person in the room, lips spread in a smile. “Hi! I am Cleo. I’ll be taking your class today — it sounds very promising.” She looked the other up and down. “You are the instructor, I hope?” Perhaps this young woman would even know some of the techniques Cleo had grown up learning!
—
Her classes at the community center had not been cancelled yet — at least Monica could be proud about that. While enrollment numbers were slow to increase, she did have a stable core of 5 students who showed up week after week. She enjoyed her consistent group of hip grandmas and enthusiastic Karens, and any strays that wandered in each class was just an added bonus. Still, if she wanted to make sure that she’d be keeping her lesson slots, she needed to draw more people in.
Monica had been wanting to do themed sessions since she started teaching, and she finally had an excuse to do them. The unpredictable storms and power surges had most of the town on edge, including her. The instructor of the self defence class had been telling her about their enrollment numbers going up, and Monica figured that she could play off of that. Was advertising this week’s class as a “combination of dance and combat” a bit of a stretch? Sure…but she wasn’t lying! After all, she was a fae! Every song in her carefully curated playlist had a variation of the word “fight” in the name, so it wasn’t technically false advertising.
Monica scrolled through her music to make sure that she had everything in order before her students started to arrive. Just then, someone she didn’t recognize walked into the studio. The woman was taller than her (though, that was nearly everyone) with beautiful black hair, and the doppelganger perked up. “Hi! Yes I am!" She replied back, standing a little straighter as if it’d help her come off as more professional. Cleo, why did that name sound so familiar? Monica furrowed her brows, deep in thought as she recounted her interactions in the past week. “Wait…oh! Cleo? It’s me, Monica from the wrong number! Oh my gosh, what a coincidence!”
Rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, the girl was starting to get excited. No, calm down! Save your energy for class, she thought to herself, forcing her body to still. That was when she noticed the fluttering in her stomach — not the kind that came from excitement or adrenaline, but the kind that told Monica that something familiar was near. Her eyes widened at the other woman, the question on the tip of her tongue when one of her regulars walked into the room. “Well Cleo, I’m very happy to meet you in person! What brought you to my class today?” A normal question in front of the normal humans in her class, but Monica silently scanned the other’s face for a sign that she was feeling it too.
—
Cleo’s eyebrows shot up as the other made a quick connection between her name and her presence online. It was strange and discomforting to her, the way her person also existed in the ‘cloud’ and people could connect that person with the one that walked the real world. Online she was given more grace and was able to think longer on replies, making her come across as what she assumed was a more charming person. In real life, she sometimes felt too fogged up mentally to properly come up with something to say. She had brought no pictures of monkeys, besides, to make the conversation flow more easily.
She would have to do with her in real life skills. At least dance was one of them. She smiled at Monica. “Hi Monica! It’s nice to see you in the flesh.” It was the truth. She had appreciated the other’s help with her questions about emojis, even if her answer had confirmed what Cleo thought absolutely ridiculous. It was fun to see that the whimsy the other had exuded through her text was right in front of her too, bouncing on her feet and filled to the brim with energy. She forbade her mind from thinking about how she had been like that, once.
As another person entered the room, the opportunity for straightforwardness was taken from them, which Cleo resented. “Oh, you know … I love to dance, and doing it in a group is always quite nice. But most of all, I need to brush up on my self-defence skills.” She looked quite serious as she said it, continuing on, “I have an increased for it, as I came across someone … less than kind.” She frowned, mouthing the word warden to Monica. She hoped that made sense. “Now that I know someone like you teaches it, I’m even more confident in what results this class will yield!”
—
Cleo smiled at her — a real smile! — which meant that she was not annoyed by Monica’s presence. Well, anyone who had been kind enough to humour her through text despite being a wrong number probably wouldn’t have done so if they were annoyed. Plus she had sent monkey pictures! Cleo had gone out of her way to send her monkey pictures! Truly a beautiful start to this student-teacher relationship.
Oh. Right. She was the teacher here, so she had to stay professional. Though most of Monica’s students had expressed that they liked the class for how “free-spirited” she was (their words, not hers), she wanted Cleo to know that she was still taking things seriously. “Group dancing is the best! Lots of people are weary because they’re scared to look silly, but I think the silliness of it is kinda the best part!” She said with a confident nod, though her look of confidence started to falter ever so slightly as Cleo mentioned wanting to brush up on her self-defence skills. Quite frankly, Monica had none of those, and she definitely had no business teaching them. Had her exaggerated advertisement worked a little too well?
“We will definitely bring out your inner fighter today!” Monica said in as sure of a tone as she could muster, choosing her words carefully so that she wouldn’t risk a tummy ache right before class. Hearing Cleo trail off though, she honed in on the other’s mouth in time to make out the ghost of the word warden. She instinctively gasped, then immediately frowned. “Less than kind for real!” Luckily, it seemed like Monica had been able to avoid wardens since coming back to town, but she was well aware that they were a major threat, even if she wanted to forget about them. “I so appreciate your confidence in me! I definitely want you to defend yourself from these less than kind people, yes.” Again, she was choosing her words very carefully while making sure that Cleo wouldn’t see her as a fraud.
The big hand on the clock hit the hour, and Monica clapped her hands together to get everyone’s attention. “Thank you all for coming today, and I’m very happy to see both old and new faces! This class will be very special because I’ll be teaching you to be a fighter!” She punched the air in front of her for emphasis, which soccer mom Shannon in the front seemed to enjoy. Shuffling over to where her phone was plugged into the speaker, Monica snuck a nervous glance at Cleo. Now that she had confirmation that the woman was a fae too, the desire to impress her had increased tenfold. Hopefully Cleo wouldn’t be…too disappointed with the lack of actual combat training today. “Alright, everyone ready for warm-up?” She grinned at everyone as “Fight For This Love” by Cheryl Cole started blasting.
—
“I am not plagued by such … wariness,” Cleo said seriously. There were plenty of areas in life where she was wary, but not when it came to dance. When it came to dance and all other things music related, she knew what she was doing. “I never look silly.” It didn't feel like a whole truth, so she specified: “When I dance. In other situations, I do sometimes look silly. As all people do.” She nodded, glad that the lie had not come to fruition and pained her. She thought of all the times in her store when she was struggling to hide her glamour and looked silly with how she hid from her customers. That was silly, yet necessary.
She wondered if Monica had similar struggles. But now was not the time to ask about fae-matters, as there were other people about. The small mention of a warden was already a step too far. The other's reaction was somehow endearing, her speech so reminiscent of the youths that came into her store. “Your help is so appreciated,” said Cleo, “I'm glad it's someone like you teaching me.” Though she had no doubt that some of the other self-defense instructors at the community center were good at their craft, she trusted another fae (who also taught dance) more than she would any human.
She stepped away from Monica, back to the class when the other clapped her hands. She ended up next to a human who looked like she spent her time at the side of her children's sport activity and brought orange slices. She smiled brightly at Monica as she moved to her phone, pressing play. Cleo thought it kind of disappointing that the other used her phone for music playing, but she swallowed that feeling. Cheryl Cole filled the room and she rolled back her shoulders, fists balling the way Monica had when she'd punched the air. “Sure am!” As Monica started the warm up, Cleo mirrored her movements as good as she could, excited for when the fighting techniques would be weaved through the dance.
—
As if Monica needed reason to like Cleo even more than she already did, the girl liked the other’s seriousness. “That’s the spirit! Embrace the sillies! Silly can’t be a diss if you’re not afraid of it!” Or something like that — she hoped her words of motivation sounded professional enough.
She couldn’t shake Cleo’s words from her mind even as she prepared to start. I’m glad it’s someone like you. Someone appreciated her fae-ness! It made Monica perk up a little at the front of the room, her confidence growing at the fact that something she usually tried to hide was seen as a source of trust to other fae. Of course, that could all change once Cleo found exactly what kind of fae she was – Monica wasn’t exactly sure what reputation doppelgangers had amongst other fae – but the woman’s trust in her for now was enough to motivate her.
Well, maybe it’d be something else that would cause Cleo’s trust in her to falter, like the fact that Monica’s transition from the Cheryl Cole warm up to “Fight” by The Cure featured not a single actual combat move. She debated adding some impromptu side kicks and stationary punches as they transitioned into “Fighter” by Christina Aguilera, but Monica was admittedly much more terrified of 82 year-old Margaret throwing out her hip than Cleo’s disappointment. “Forward left, forward right! Back, two, three, four!” She shouted out over the first verse, arms moving in a shuffling motion. Surely if someone stood too close to her, she could elbow someone in the face with this move, right?
“Pull left! Pull right! And pump! Your! Arms!” Monica added some extra pep in her step for the chorus, hoping that would evoke the fighting spirit that Cleo was looking for from her class…who was she kidding — there was not a chance in hell that this was what the other woman had envisioned. “Get water if you need it, otherwise get ready for some kung fu fighting!” She said as the opening melody of the 70s song started playing. Catching Cleo’s eye in the mirror, Monica nervously waved before zipping her attention back to the front. Thank god this was only a 30 minute class. No breaks meant she could wait until later to face Cleo’s disappointment.
—
Monica was speaking in a way that dizzied Cleo. She had to be young, then, using all that slang. Diss, she knew mostly from the 90s, and sillies … well, she could understand what that meant, but she thought it rather silly, which in turn frustrated her. She simply chose not to answer the youthful sentence.
The next song was definitely more in line with her music taste, and Cleo smiled as the distorted guitar riffs of The Cure started to play. This was a good song to work on her self defense on, she figured. There was a seriousness about the song that Cheryl Cole’s had lacked, and fighting was nothing if not serious. There were no moves that would help her defend herself against a warden, though, and Cleo was trying to not feel let down. There was still some time left in the class.
When the next song came, and Cleo was shuffling her arms she figured that she could use this to hit someone in the face. She imagined the hunter from the bar at the receiving end of her swiftly moving limbs. Pumping the air, she breathed out with every punch, feeling very much like she was brushing up her skills. Though the style of dance here was very different from that at her aos sí, she still felt that she was gaining some insight on how to move should she be attacked.
As she looked in the mirror, she imagined a foe opposing her with every move she made. A side step was just her moving away from her attacker. Footwork was a necessary skill to stay on her feet, should someone try to throw her off balance. Swaying her hips was simply good to ensure her back and hips weren’t locked up – which they admittedly were, right now, considering how stationary Cleo had been – and then there were all the arm movements. She mirrored Monica all through the 70s hit, enjoying the nostalgia that came with it. That had come out during her New York years. Had she danced to it with Oliver? She did not remember, but she was glad to be kicking the air a little. Monica really knew what she was doing.
—
Oh god, Monica really did not know what she was doing. Why had she chosen to advertise this class as a combination of dance and combat? Then again, she hadn’t expected anyone beyond her usual demographic to even see the ad, let alone take it seriously. Still, she had to maintain her image of Wicked’s Rest’s best (and only) Zumba instructor, which meant not faltering in the face of a hiccup.
At least Cleo looked absolutely locked in, the older fae not even taking the water break that every other one of her students scrambled for. Monica chewed her bottom lip nervously through the intro of “Kung Fu Fighting”, shaking her head as the first chorus began as if to shake the negative energy from her brain. No, she could do this! This was the perfect song! “HUH!” She shouted along to the song as she sliced one hand through the air. “I want to hear everybody let out their energy! HA!” Monica thanked her past self for this segment of the class, the choreography laced with moves that at least looked like some sort of fighting moves, even if her horrendous technique would render her useless in actual battle.
The first few notes of the Street Fighter soundtrack started to play, and Monica moved her arms in front of her, her hands balling into fists. “Get ready to bob and weave, everyone!” Of course she had never actually played this ancient game herself, but the soundtrack had kept coming up when she had searched “songs about fighting,” plus Monica figured her older students would get a kick out of it. Shuffling to the left then the right, she made sure to exaggerate her movements in a way that reflected the over-the-top nature of video games. “Now just imagine your opponent is near annnd punch! Punch! Punch!” Okay, the part about imaging your opponent had been nowhere in her original script, but maybe she was actually better at improvising than she thought.
As Street Fighter faded out, Monica grinned at the mirror. “Alright! We have one last song until the cooldown, and I’ve saved the biggest absolute best banger for last!” The steady drums kicked in, and the doppelganger furrowed her brows in a look of determination. “Give this one everything you’ve got!”
—
Cleo did not want to fight. To fight was not in her nature — she existed to create and feed creation, to make rather than destroy. And even though that part of her was far away from her on some days too now, she still resented that she felt the need to attend a class like this. It would be much more preferable to be attending any other class, one that focused on actual dance rather than combat dance.
Even so, she was having fun. Dance was a brilliant medium and though this class was not about artistry, but instead about learning self defense, she still found merit in it. As the music moved to a different song Cleo did not recognize (she did not play video games), she got into position. Jumping from foot to foot, she was ready to go. Monica was instructing her to imagine punching someone and she did, throwing out her fists with little technique but with much rhythm, and she was feeling herself grow elated.
One more song, then. Mulan’s I’ll Make a Man Out of You started playing and Cleo grinned widely. It was an arguably brilliant song, and though she was not always fond of the studio behind the song and movie, there was no denying the song’s power. She did as Monica instructed and gave it all she got.
Once done, she went for her water bottle, exchanging some pleasantries with the other people in attendance. She assured one of them that with their brushed-up self defense skills, the world should be scared of them before giving a wave goodbye. Once most had trickled out, she moved to Monica, beaming at the other fae. “That was amazing. Very, very well done — and your music choices were excellent.”
—
Monica had always been fond of Mulan, maybe because she saw herself in her. Of course, it wasn’t like she was going out and fighting in any wars, but they were two individuals who wore a mask so they could be accepted. When Mulan put on her disguise to survive amongst the men, that was how Monica felt waking up in a human body every day. As much as human life genuinely fascinated her, she couldn’t deny that inhabiting a body was for survival. The mere thought of the movie made her feel some sort of way, which was what made “I’ll Make A Man Out Of You” a perfect closer for her set. That, and the fact that the song was fun as hell.
Her students seemed to think so too, and Monica was thrilled to see a sea of sweaty smiles when the music faded out. “Amazing work! You guys totally killed it!” She said with a grin of her own, putting emphasis on the complimentary words. The sweet sound of Jennifer Hudson’s “We Gon’ Fight” filled the room for the cooldown portion of her set, the doppelganger leading everyone through some gentle stretches. Then it faded into Rachel Platten’s “Fight Song,” which Monica was hoping that Cleo would especially love. “This is my fight song,” Miss Platten sang, and the girl snuck another peak at the older fae. Maybe this would be Cleo’s fight song too!
“See you guys next week! Same time, same place!” The girl clapped her hands together as her students started to disperse. She watched as one of her regulars went up to Cleo, and Monica let out a silent sigh of relief as they engaged in a conversation. She wasn’t quite ready to face the other fae yet — even though Monica believed that she could defeat someone with the power of dance, she was pretty sure that Cleo would see right through her and her fraudulent class. The thought made her tummy twist in a much more uncomfortable way than it did when she lied, so she busied herself with packing up.
Please just go, the girl chanted in her head as people started filing out. Of course, Cleo did not. Monica braced herself as the woman came over, preparing for the disappointment. Instead, Cleo was…smiling? “Oh! You really think so?” The doppelganger immediately perked up, almost shocked at what she was hearing. She loved compliments, especially if it was about her class, but it felt particularly special coming from an elder fae. “I’m, like, so relieved that you liked it! I was afraid that there wasn’t enough punchy-punchy for you. Like, actual fist to face contact. But I worked really hard to find all those songs with ‘fight’ in the title, so yay! Glad it was a vibe!”
Monica was bouncing on the balls of her feet now, Cleo’s praise fully washing any anxiety from her body. “You’re, like, super cool, so it feels extra special that you had fun! Like, whoa, even an older…” She glanced over to the doorway, making sure it was clear before saying the next word. “Fae can learn something from lil’ ol’ me! Which by the way, wh–” Monica cut herself off despite the jumble of questions on the tip of her tongue. There was so much that she wanted to ask Cleo, but not all at once. She couldn’t come on too strong. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to talk your ear off! They’re probably still ringing from the music blasting, ha.”
—
Monica seemed surprised that she expressed a like for the class and Cleo smiled reassuringly. She had truly enjoyed herself and felt more secure in her skills to defend herself, should push come to shove. “Certainly,” she said, adding a nod to make it feel more convincing. “I don’t much like actual face punching, you know. I suppose sometimes there is a necessity for it, though I prefer to avoid such situations. To me, if I need to fight, I suppose agility and balanced movements will aid me more than pure strength, anyway.”
The other fae was a ball of energy, almost overwhelming in her excitement. Cleo was already out of breath from all the dancing, and she felt like she was losing oxygen over this as well. She had once been like this, hadn’t she? When she had been well-fed and younger, when she had not felt like she had put cement in her shoes and was dragging her feet everywhere. It was hard to recall how it had felt to have such energy.
And then Monica was complimenting her as well, as if she did not feel a sting in her back from some of the movements and was pondering on her current state of being. “I’m not that old,” she pointed out, though the pain in her back stated otherwise. Cleo chuckled a little. “But I suppose older than you. Don’t worry, you can ask what you wanted to.” She didn’t mind having her ear talked off a little, considering Monica had delivered her such a helpful and inspiring class. She did not quite think she owed the younger fae a favor, but she certainly could hang around a little to give her some time in return. Besides, she was curious about the other as well. It was good to know what fae were around town. “What was it?”
—
There was nothing that pleased Monica more than a satisfied student, mostly because she didn’t want to deal with an angry one. It had only happened once so far in her brief stint as Wicked’s Rest’s resident Zumba instructor, but luckily the front desk had quickly sent that lady on her way with a refund. Cleo was doing the opposite of requesting a refund, and Monica couldn’t be happier. Perhaps Cleo would enter her list of favourite students — not that teachers were supposed to pick favourites, but she couldn’t help it.
“That’s, like, so totally badass of you! Win a fight with fluid movements instead of pure violence. Shwoop!” The girl provided her own sound effect as she swayed from side to side as if dodging imaginary punches. She was quite happy to hear that Cleo wasn’t one for punching like that. Monica actually found fighting pretty entertaining, but only if it was happening to people unrelated to her. Now that she was bonded with Cleo through the power of dance and monkey pictures, it upset her to think about the other fae getting hurt.
She covered her mouth with her hand, eyes wide as she realized what she had said. “Oops, my bad! You definitely don’t look, like, anciently old or anything. I just have a hard time judging ages, mostly because I made mine up!” Monica shielded her mouth with her right hand as if she was divulging a huge secret to the other fae. Luckily her blunt wording didn’t seem to turn Cleo off for good, and the girl lit up when encouraged to ask her question. “Oh, I was going to ask about what kind of fae you are! There’s just so many types of us and I’m always learning. Like, whoa, crazy!”
As she was about to continue, a knock echoed through the room. Monica turned to see Polly from the admin office standing at the doorway with a clipboard in hand. “Hey Monica! Your class is over, right? I was just about to go over your payment for this month.” She watched as Polly’s high ponytail swished back and forth, the other girl’s gaze jumping from her to Cleo. “Frick…” The young fae muttered under her breath. She needed a few more minutes with Cleo, but what if Polly decided to go rogue and run off with her money in the meantime? “I’m sorry, Cleo! I kinda need to talk to her and I don’t wanna keep you here…oh! Wait. You literally have my number, duh!”
—
“Badass?” The word made Cleo laugh. She was no brave person. She preferred to avoid trouble whenever it threatened to start licking at her heels. Her confrontations with wardens had dwindled in the years after Harley had died, mostly because she no longer caused what they considered trouble that could lead back to her as often. To them, it was probably a good thing that she was no longer feeding as much. It made her feel bitter, but was not enough to make her change.
She shook her head, “I don’t know about badass. Pacifistic, maybe.” Cleo laughed again though, as Monica corrected herself. “It’s fine. I suppose to humans I am old. But among muses – that’s what I am – I’m simply in the prime of my life.” And what a prime it was. She pushed aside the pessimism that was about to wash over her and tried to remain somewhat lighthearted, as Monica’s energy was at least somewhat infectious.
Before she could ask the dance instructor what kind of fae she was – she suspected her to be a faun – someone interrupted. Not for anything important, thought Cleo. Administration was such a boring human thing, but she supposed that for Monica the administration of her money was probably somewhat important. “No worries,” she said, “Go. I’ll reach out online.” She spoke the last word as if it existed out of two, on line, and smiled as she watched Monica head to the boring human. As she got her own things and started to leave, she found that there seemed to be something elevated within her, and not just because she had managed to work on her combat skills. There had been something sweet about meeting Monica.
[pm] Good. Water and seeds is great. You'll be making bird friends that way.
Noted. And appreciated.
Come on. There are people involved in an assembly. Nothing can be more political that that. And I agree, we're talking about music. Technique is going to be undeniable, but the musicality, the interpretation... That can be argued and humans are not always fair.
I have zero doubt that you'd deserve the spot, but earning it the hard way...? there's some poetry here.
[pm] I was thinking of putting out a bird feeder. I will also paint the windows, or have someone do it. I don't want a repeat.
There are people involved and they need a good leader! That is the conductor and first chair. Experience, technique, musicality, I excel in every area — it is undeniable fact! [User has not met this orchestra.] Humans are often unfair, that is also undeniable fact. I am not, and I am fair I demand fairness. I will not settle.
Earning it the hard way? I have spent over a century and a half perfecting my craft, I have There is no poetry there. Spare me.
[pm] Well, I don't think that's treating me like an adult, I think that's acting like a Jeff Bezos wannabe. And you're so not Jeff Bezos. [...] I thought the font was pretty sick.
gummygunk
prguitarman
jacobvanloon
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turnnoffyourmind
dailybridgerton
ellievsbear
