Greetings! There are some name changes this week; I'm going to try to change previous posts, but for now the changes are just from here out. That character of Atcher the brownie is changed to Fen, and the Wind Rabbit Undertow is now Spindrift.

Chapter 15: Petrichor

Staring at the scene, Tonic notices how the grey seamint path curves most of the way around the circle. There are 5 box-houses, their partially-built bones tall and stark. Each box-house has a tiny, short-grass meadow around it. The house bones sit just outside the grey path; in the center of the seamint circle is a smooth, black surface that looks almost sticky (but is firm and dry to Tonic’s cautious touch). A movement catches the gnome’s attention, and Tonic braces for an attack before realizing it’s just a reflection in the window of the nearest partial-house. 

Looking closer at the reflection, it is apparent that the green is missing in Tonic’s hair puffs. With a soft, bewildered touch to a hair puff, Tonic notes other changes “My eyes should be a warm, persimmon orange, why are they now the color of black walnut?” The gnome’s mossy patches and bark-like skin are altered too; the moss is gone, leaving instead pale patterns on the delicate brown skin. “Where has my bark gone? Where is my moss?” Tonic wonders aloud. Marvelling and still gripping the perfect, red metal cylinder, Tonic lets out a loud yelp when a voice nearby says “Are you going to drink that soda?”

Fen slowly moves over to sit by Prism, collecting rocks along the way. Neither friend speaks. Prism is angry and frustrated, trying to stand, prodding at the useless legs, and attempting to figure out what’s going on. Fen is sorting the rocks, noting their colors, textures, and sizes, organizing and reorganizing them in different patterns. The brownie keeps trying to tell Prism that everything will be okay, that the rocks just need to be in the right order for it all to work out, but for some reason Fen can’t seem to communicate ideas very well. The brownie’s inspiring demeanor isn’t functioning like usual.

After the brief scream of surprise, Tonic stammers “W-what? Who..?” The gnome’s wide eyes take in a figure in odd, fantasy clothes, wavy grey hair in a bun, and sturdy, dark boots. “From your expressions and clothing I’m guessing you came from the Land of Legend. I’m Petrichor - I’m a tylwyth teg. Don’t worry; this building site is deserted. Most paths from Myth to Legend come out somewhere abandoned. I’m not sure why, though. Maybe it’s easier to build a path where it won’t run into stuff? I like to walk through and admire the quiet; it’s a melancholy sort of beauty here. Anyways, hello! How can I help?”

With another sneeze and a snuffle, Tonic’s looks again at the metal cylinder. The gnome’s mind is in a whirl trying to figure out what to ask, or say, or do. “I don’t… What’s a soda? Can you help? My friend’s legs aren’t working.” is the best the gnome can manage.

Petrichor pipes up, “Let’s go look; I’ll do my best to help. Is this your first time traveling to the World of Myth?” Tonic nods as they walk back to Prism, and the tylwyth teg continues, “Ah. Well, then. Have you discovered how you’ve changed yet? I lost my ability with plants; I can’t grow anything anymore. I create gardens in paper and paint now. I’ve learned ever so much, but it is a blow to lose my connection with living plants.” 

Tonic realizes that Petrichor’s whole outfit is adorned with plant imagery; buttons that look like flowers, embroidered patches of leaves and blooms, a hair tie knitted to look like a vine, even plant patterns woven into the cloth. The gnome says with honesty, “I’m so sorry; that sounds really difficult. I can’t imagine not being able to interact with plants!”

Ahead of them are the figures of Fen and Prism. Tonic gestures to the two friends, asking Petrichor, “Can you help Prism?” Tonic remembers the earlier reflection and all the changes it showed, and uneasily tries to take in Fen and Prism’s changes. Fen’s hair no longer looks like quartz and hidden gems, but more like pale straw. The brownie seems introspective, not vocal and full of ideas. Prism’s hair is no longer splashing ocean waves, but is an undulating pale brown color, and the sprite’s skin is smooth and peach-ish like a newt, instead of the rippled angry of tidal pools and riverstones. 

“I don’t know if I can help, but I can do basic first aid.” Petrichor plops a rucksack on the ground and rummages through while muttering “Spray Slip (for slippers), Stop Flop (for better flips), receipt for Quiet Classes (for sneakers)... Hah! First aid kit.” The tylwyth teg opens the first aid kit and looks over the disgruntled Prism’s legs after taking the sprite’s temperature. After some careful bends and observations of Prism’s legs Petrichor says, “So there’s no pain in your legs? No feeling? I’m no professional healer, but nothing looks especially bruised or broken. If you could walk fine a minute ago, then perhaps this is your price for crossing the World’s Between. Some of the myths say travelers might have to give up their name, or the color of their eyes, or years of time in a few minutes. Losing your legs certainly seems along those lines.” Prism gives a surly frown, and Petrichor continues, “My house isn’t far; I live in the apartments on the other side of that fence. Would you all like a snack? We can take turns helping Prism over to my house.”

Tonic says, “Thank you; that sounds great. I’m Tonic, by the way. Prism, Fen, what do you think?” 

Prism looks up dolefully from the ground, “Well, I need some way to get around. I don’t think I can crawl everywhere. I really thought that once we got to the World of Myth, Graemes would be right here and we would all go home. It seems like there is always one more step.”

“Yes,” Petrichor nods solemnly, “Some tasks are like that. I find it best every day to just keep trying to do the next right thing. Here, Prism, climb on my back and I’ll carry you.”

As they start to follow the tylwyth teg, Tonic looks around and asks, “Fen? Are you coming? Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Did you know most rocks are just a type of quartz? And calling a stone ‘jasper’ sounds fancy, but it’s almost as vague as saying ‘quartz.’” Fen quietly picks up the pile of rocks, rearranging them in one hand.

“No, I didn’t know that, Fen. Are you okay?” Tonic asks. Fen nods, and keeps twiddling the rocks while following Tonic using peripheral vision. 

Petrichor carries Prism to the apartment. The first floor apartment is small and moderately tidy, adorned with paintings of plants, fiber flowers in vases, and various blooms and leaves. Putting Prism on the couch, Petrichor laughs and points, asking, “Tonic, do you intend to drink that soda? If you want to save it for later, we can put it in the fridge.”

“Oh!” The gnome is surprised to see the red metal cylinder still in one hand. “What is it? I found it on the ground and was going to ask Fen about it. Fen is great with stones and metals.”

“It’s a soda. A sort of sweet, bubbly drink.” Petrichor explains. “It’s put into the can to keep it fresh and makes it easy to travel with. Here, let me show you how they work.” Tonic hands over the can and the tylwyth teg remarks, “Wow! That’s light; it feels empty.” Petrichor shakes the can with a confused frown, looking it over as Tonic and Prism watch. Fen sits on the floor, rolling a stone in one hand. “No holes or punctures anywhere, but I don’t hear a slosh either.” Petrichor says while lifting the metal tab to break open the sealed hole in the can. The can is completely empty.