GREEN
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3348 18.13 KB 255
3348 18.13 KB 255
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>The Heart of the Garden, as you’ve come to think of the preposterously massive fruit tree at the center of the island, is doing well, even surrounded as it is now by smaller, more natural trees.
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>You’ve been visiting it for over a month, and it still hasn’t run out of fruit, of any of the many varieties it hosts.
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>How long have you been here already? Six weeks? Eight?
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>You haven’t a calendar to track the days.
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>It’s been getting cooler though, so it’s probably heading through autumn, soon into winter.
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>You’re going to have to split more wood.
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>The thought reminds you of the maul next to you.
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>Carrying it around isn’t exactly a workout, but you’ve made a habit of it anyway, for the little extra effort.
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>It’s heavier on your back at least. Or against your side, as it is now. Anywhere but your hands.
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>But you don’t feel like splitting more. That’s a nice mindless workout for when you want to, ironically, relax.
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>Right now you need to think.
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>Noire wants to sleep with you, in a non-euphemistic sense.
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>She doesn’t think anything of it. Why would she?
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>You can’t help but feel that for you, however, it would be a relationship-defining thing.
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>And you don’t know how you’d define your relationship, right now.
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>She’s certainly at least a friend.
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>The first few days you’d been here she’d been stiff and aloof.
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>But the more you shared about your world, the warmer and more comfortable she’d grown.
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>The more time you’d spent together, the more she picked up normal social behaviors.
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>Good thing too; you’ll sorely need a friend here.
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>So you don’t want to alienate her, if you could help it.
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>But you don’t want to allow something that’ll ruin this, either.
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>And sharing a bed – even if, again, non-euphemistically – would definitely be an escalation.
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>On the other hand, more than anything, you want to help her.
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>She opened up to you about what must be to her an extreme vulnerability.
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>As weird as it may think a god, or a splinter of one, to deserve something, you feel she deserved your help.
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>She’s done so much for you that she didn’t need to but for some host’s obligation.
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>And sleeping snug with her was nice, in a way that made you vaguely uneasy.
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>In a way that felt vaguely dangerous.
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>What of you started to like it a little too much?
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>What if you wanted to take this a little further than just friends?
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>That’s what stuff like this meant to you, after all.
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>And with how casually she was treating it, obviously it didn’t mean that to her.
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>That gap in expectation defines this problem.
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>Right, between what is and what might be.
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>Unless that gap is smaller than you think.
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>You don’t know how she feels, really, but she’s given you no indication she sees you as anything more than close friend and confidant.
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>You don’t feel much more for her than the same.
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>Do you?
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>Waking up this morning really was a pleasant experience, after all.
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>You wish you knew more about your prior life.
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>Maybe the old you had more experience with this stuff.
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>Maybe if you had some better context into your past existence, you’d be able to navigate this better.
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>Had you ever been in love?
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>Would you be able to recognize it if you were?
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>That must be what she meant by feeling disconnected.
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>The nagging sensation that you’ve forgotten something very important, and you know there’s no chance you’ll ever remember.
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>If you get sent back, reunited with your greater self, will you look back on this in shame at your obliviousness?
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>At missing an…
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>Opportunity?
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>No, that’s a terrible way of looking at it.
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>There’s two people involved and you don’t know how either of them actually feels.
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>But it feels strange to think that you might be a burden to some other that is actually yourself.
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>Like you have to live up to an unknowable expectation.
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>Disconnection.
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>Sorry boss; your little emissary is a clueless idiot.
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>Or maybe you’re just overthinking it.
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>Maybe you’re looking too far into Noire’s requests.
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>Maybe you should just focus on the mission.
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>The assumption until now had been that you were here to define this world.
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>It’s probably best you don’t let yourself get sidetracked.
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>You know how those creatures looked at you when Noire made them.
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>Like you, not she, were the god of this place.
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>Like she didn’t even exist.
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>If they are to look to you as some sort of divine figure, you have a responsibility to your indirect creation.
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>Probably for the best that you not let anything occlude your purpose.
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>So you’ll just head back and tell Noire that maybe you should keep it casual
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>At least until your shared work was done.
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>You weren’t supposed to get intimate with coworkers back home, after all.
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>Or your boss, if Noire counts as your boss.
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>Now wouldn’t that be-
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>A rustle somewhere to your left startles you.
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>You jump to your feet and grab your maul.
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>The sound’s gone, now.
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>But it had sounded big.
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>Is something out there watching you?
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>You and Noire had made a lot of predators.
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>She had assured you there were enough critters for them to eat without said critters getting wiped out.
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>The food chain had been all balanced, and the island is big enough for it to be robust.
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>But maybe one of them got a hankering for something bigger, more exotic.
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>Not like they were all sapient.
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>Can’t negotiate with a tiger.
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>You heft the maul in one hand, other arm held out in a vaguely defensive position.
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>Guess you’ll have to show them why man is the most dangerous game.
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>More rustling.
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>Much closer this time.
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>A snapping branch gives you an exact direction, and you turn to face it.
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>Come on, you big cat.
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>Or whatever you are.
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>You’ll have to tell Noire she’ll need to make a replacement.
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>If you make it out.
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>She’s not here to protect you after all.
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>She wouldn’t let you come to harm, she had said.
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>But that was before you asked her to limit herself.
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>You already past the point you suggested her current body, and that was the only indicator you’d still be around.
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>This would certainly be an ironic way to die, at the hands of a beast you decided to put here yourself.
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>There, a flash of color.
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>The size looked to be about right.
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>But the shape was all wrong.
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>What emerged from the underbrush was not a feline at all.
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>It was one of the smaller pony-like beings.
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>The ones with the wings. A pegasus.
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>It hadn’t noticed you, judging by how it reacts to your presence.
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>It – she – puffs her chest out and spreads her wings.
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>Trying to look intimidating, you suppose.
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>But she doesn’t get closer to attack.
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>Instead she starts walking sideways, rather awkwardly.
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>Why is she do-
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>Ah, behind her.
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>You can make out two more moving through the brush.
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>A male and another female, by the looks of it.
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>She must be trying to protect them.
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>From you.
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>You relax your stance, letting the hammer-head of the mall thud into the dirt.
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>So much for the reverence and awe accorded a god.
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>They’re treating you exactly as you’d expect them to treat an unknown outsider.
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>You’re not so special to your creations after all.
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>You watch in curiosity as the other two break into the clearing only when they think you can’t see them.
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>Unfortunately for them, their pastel coloration makes them easy to see through the bushes and smaller plants around the Heart of the Garden, and your eyesight is probably better than theirs anyway.
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>The mare in front makes sure to stay between you and them at all times, ironically making it easier to locate them if you did happen to lose sight.
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>Heh. Featherbrains.
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>The larger one, the stallion, hops up into the Heart’s branches, sniffing and snooping around various fruits.
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>The other mare, still keeping between the bushes, tries to stay under him.
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>When he finds one he’s satisfied with, he nudges it off the branch, letting it fall onto the spread wings of the mare below.
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>You watch this process repeat a couple dozen times, the stallion gathering a couple examples each of many different kinds of fruit.
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>The one between them and you never takes her eyes off you.
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>You wonder if she even suspects you can see her friends.
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>There are certain fruit, you realize, that the stallion has trouble with.
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>He can land on the sturdier branches higher up to knock things down.
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>But he can’t lend on the more slender ones, drooping towards the ground; he’s too heavy, and they’re too flexible.
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>You look up at some of those same branches near you.
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>A decent amount of fruit on this one.
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>You grab ahold of the end with your free hand and pull it down towards you.
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>Then you swing your maul in an overhead arc, bringing the axe-head down on – then through – the branch.
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>A good length with a dozen fruit on it buries its now-severed end into the dirt.
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>The pegasus watching you starts, rearing back with wings flared, until she realizes you haven’t actually moved from where you stood.
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>You pick up the branch, point it on her, then set it down on the ground and back away.
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>Still keeping her friends in your sight, of course, watching their progress.
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>Once the mare in the back has a nice pile cupped between her half-spread wings, the stallion glides back to the ground.
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>He noses some of the fruit into better positions on her back.
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>Then he cups his own wings, and she transfers some of the load to them.
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>While the guard-mare carefully retrieves the branch you offered, you watch her friends interact.
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>It’s easy to see they’re more than a couple random pegasi who started working together.
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>Every bit of their body language looks attuned to each other.
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>Like they know precisely how the other will react.
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>It’s only been a few weeks, and you realize they’re already An Item.
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>Ain’t that something.
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>You watch them gingerly navigate back into the woods, the mare between them and you backing up to follow with the branch now flipped onto her own back, never turning away from you.
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>Maybe she’s with them too, or just a really trusted friend.
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>They’re first generation; it’s too soon for elaborate courtship rituals or dating scenes or matchmaking. Hell, Noire may have even tweaked the first batch to expedite the process.
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>They just found each other and made something work.
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>If they didn’t need any ritualized behavior to develop those bonds…
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>Well, why should you have to bother?
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>Like you, there’s no possible way for them to know what falling in love felt like before they met.
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>They just went with the flow.
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>So can you.
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>Noire knows about all this, of course.
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>But what is it she always mumbles to herself?
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>Knowledge against experience.
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>If something between you and Noire happens…
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>Well, it happens.
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>If it doesn’t, it doesn’t.
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>Is there any use to being so uptight about things?
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>Nothing else on this island is going to be.
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>Those two certainly aren’t.
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>You lift the maul and rest it over a shoulder, turning back for the path leading from the Garden to your home.
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>Your shared home.
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>You had a lot to think about, when you left there for here.
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>But now you think you shouldn’t have bothered thinking at all.
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>Don’t overcomplicate things.
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>The world is still young, and it doesn’t care about any complications just yet.
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>And if they don’t see you as the god you feared they did, that means you can focus your attention on the one who needs it most.
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>With a spring in your step as you leave the Garden behind, you wonder how much wood you can get split before you’ll have to prepare dinner.
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* * *
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>You blink hard against the fire in the fireplace, fueled by the first of a new and quite large batch of logs.
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>Hard to stay awake when you work hard during the day and eat such a big meal at night.
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>You make a mental note to create some coffee plants in the coming few days.
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>Maybe a bunch of other herbs and spices too.
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>The foodstuff basics are nice and all, but variety is the, well, spice of life.
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>It’s probably late enough for you to turn in, anyway.
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>You look beside you, on the floor next to the couch you are Noire are sitting on, while she does her nightly world-watching.
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>A nice new stack of clothes lays there.
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>Only for you; she didn’t see the point.
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>None of the ponies she’s modeled after are wearing any.
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>Horses on your world didn’t outside special circumstances.
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>You didn’t comment.
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>Something something in a state of nature.
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“I’m heading up for the night.”
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>She hums an acknowledgement as you pick up the pile and head for the stairs to the sleeping loft that was your new bedroom.
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>For want of drawers, you drop them on the floor next to a currently blank wall.
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>Something to address tomorrow.
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>For now you pick out some comfortable pajamas and trade your current wear for them.
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>Only after you finish do you realize you didn’t draw any curtains on the open “wall” to the great room below, where Noire still sits.
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>Was the angle right for her to see anything?
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>Does it matter?
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>You slink into your nice, much larger bed, sliding under the covers and looking up through the skylights above.
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>It’s been – what were you thinking earlier today, two months maybe – since you’d arrived here, and you still can’t get over how clear the night sky is, how many thousands of stars you can see.
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>These skylights were definitely one of the best decisions about this redesigned house.
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>You look down across the bed, out the open side of the room, through the upper windows of the great room’s now-southern wall, and can see another expanse of stars above the dark horizon.
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>And, off to one side of that opening, a dark shadow accented with faint glows ascends into view, two orange rings turned on you.
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>”May I join you?” comes Noire’s soft voice.
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>You think for a moment.
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>No, you shouldn’t bother thinking at all.
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>Don’t overcomplicate things, remember?
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“Go ahead.”
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>She shakes herself, resettles her wings, and comes over to climb into bed.
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>You pull the covers over her as well, once she settles her back against your side, wings over your torso.
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>You think to those three ponies you encountered in the Garden.
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>They’re probably all gathered close together too.
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>They’d have to do that just to keep warm.
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>Nobody who didn’t start with it has probably discovered fire yet.
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>Nothing to it.
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>Well, except for some among them, with some others among them, but well.
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>That’s life.
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>That’s life you made.
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>This’s life you’re making.
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>Let it play out.
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“Do you ever watch some of the creatures we made, when you’re looking around the world late at night?”
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>”All the time.”
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>You turn to look at her.
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“What do you see?”
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>”Joy in simple life.”
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>Don’t overcomplicate things.
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>”It will be a long time before they can even conceive of a shadow of the advanced state of the world you came from. But they meet every day the best they can. They find more of their kind and others like them, interact, trade discoveries and techniques. There is a lot of communication for so few words. It is fascinating.”
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>You say nothing, looking back up at the stars, letting scenes play out in your head.
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>Eventually, Noire does the same, turning her head first to glance at you, then looking up through the skylights herself.
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“You know, back home, I don’t think anyone could ever see this many stars unless they went deep into the wilderness.”
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>Noire is silent. Maybe considering whatever other information followed your words. Probably stuff about light pollution, how far one has to go to leave built-up areas, whatever.
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“I hope they appreciate these things while they can. There’s a lot about a world that’s hard to get back, as civilization progresses. There’ll come a time when their descendants wont be able to see all these stars.”
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>”Except in dreams.”
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>You turn to look at her again.
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>She wiggles in place until she’s on her back, wings half-spread, looking at you fully. “In dreams they will always be able to see.”
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“You think?”
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>”I will make it so.”
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>You smile at her.
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“That would probably be nice. Make sure everyone can experience a piece of it.
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>She looks backup into the night sky. “When I was making it all, I did not have any plan. Not really. I arranged things so they would be pleasing to me, but when you can see something from every angle at once, when you deal with absolute positions of things, there is no real way to get a sense of any single image. The aesthetic sense I arranged things by was rather abstract.”
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>She paws at the air with a hoof. “But when I look at it from down here, it is like a totally new canvas. And since I am not in communication with my entire self, it is like a work of art someone else has made for me to view. Is that not strange?”
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“Is it? I’ve only ever been able to see things from this kind of view, down here.”
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>”That is just it.” She turns back to look into your eyes. “When I can see it from only one view, I see beauty that I was unable to appreciate before. It is made greater for this limited perspective.”
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“And you want to preserve that for future generations.”
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>”Of course. In dreams I can make the whole night sky visible, even if their development has obscured the finer details in their waking lives.”
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>She looks back up again. “I will make the night sky a special place for dreamers. Most of them sleep through the night, after all, and may never get a chance to appreciate its full beauty. I will connect the two intimately, so stars and dreams will never be far apart.”
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“I hope they appreciate your gift. Back home we always saw shapes, between stars. Shapes that told stories, that represented myths. As less stars became visible, those shapes were lost. So were those stories and myths. I wonder what constellations they’ll find up there. How their night sky storybooks may read.”
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>”You could always start on that yourself.”
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“Oh?”
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>”You said you wanted to write some books for them to decipher, when they are able. It need not be all words of wisdom. You can share with them some of the beauty we see right here.”
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>You look back up at the stars, and squint a little.
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>What shapes can you make out?
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>What stories might you want to tell?
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>You’re not the most creative person.
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>But you do have a wonderful source of inspiration right here, rolling over to warm you with her embrace.
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>If you are her muse, maybe she can be yours, too.
by E4-NG
by E4-NG
by E4-NG
by E4-NG
by E4-NG