Dandelyon's Worlds

So, this is a continuation of Tom and Jeri's story. Hmmmm...writing it that way, well, I have to admit that my subconscious self must be laughing at my conscious self. I hadn't realized until right now that these characters are namesakes of that famous cartoon! I do want to keep him as "Tom", but now I wonder if I should change Jeri's name. (You're welcome to weigh in on this suddenly earth-shattering question.)

Anyway, for people who don't want to pick up this story in the middle, here is a glimpse of Tom as a boy: E is for Education, and here are the two bits that lead directly up to this one. D is for Dancing and F is for Witch/Familiar relations.

Jewelry?

Jeri looked around as she arrived at Mrs. Maher’s. There was a little stage in one corner, currently adorned with several guitars and a bodhran. There was a small dance floor in front of that, a well-stocked bar, and lots of tables.

Tom waved at her from a spot near the stage, smiling. His long blond hair was loose around his shoulders, a much more attractive look than she’d seen before, though she had to admit a ponytail was practical for acrobatic dancing.

Jeri smiled back and weaved her way through the tables. They exchanged pleasantries and Tom took her coat, hanging it on a hook nearby. A waiter showed up with menus. He greeted Tom by name, and Tom introduced Jeri.

“So, you’re a regular here?”

Tom nodded. “They have good food, good drink, good music, and a place to dance. What more does a man need?”

Jeri found herself grinning back at him. “Magic?”

His grin widened. “Touche! But now that you’re here, this place has it all.”

They ordered drinks and Tom settled back a bit. “I’ll have friends arriving in a while; if we’re going to talk about magic, you might want to do it now.”

Jeri nodded. “I don’t exactly have a syllabus, you know. Familiars mostly can’t read.” She kept her tone light. “But I do want your company for a few evenings. I can’t promise anything flashy, though.”

Tom leaned forward. “Is something going on? You sound worried.”

He was perceptive—either through the familiar bond or just noticing details she tried to hide. Despite herself, Jeri wondered what it would be like to actually date someone this sensitive to her moods.

“Yes, a little. My friends—my human friends—have all been having a run of bad luck. Cars breaking down, plumbing exploding, chimneys tottering, co-workers quitting for no reason, all sorts of things. Stuff that happens, but not to everyone all at once.”

“My friends too, now that you mention it.”

“I’m afraid there’s something magical that’s increasing entropic effects, hopefully by accident. I want to drive around the city and see if I can find—well, I really don’t know what.” She looked up at him, “You drive, right? It would be easier if you could drive so I can focus on the magic.”

He tossed his hair back decorously, a bit of a frown showing on his face. “Of course I can drive. What do you—“

Jeri put her hand out to touch him, felt the comforting spark of the familiar bond as they touched. “I didn’t mean anything by that; I just didn’t want to presume. Most of my human friends drive, but only about half of the magical ones.” She rummaged in her purse and brought out a box. “I—I have something for you.”

“A gift? It’s not my birthday.”

“This—or something like it—is traditional. It’s the first gift a witch gives to her familiar. I—I hope you like it. I tried to pick a form that would be suitable.” She slid it across the table, like a peace offering.

“You’re nervous.” It wasn’t a question, but at least it wasn’t an accusation.

He lifted the box and opened it. Inside was a heavy gold chain with an enameled triskel set as a centerpiece, in line with the chain rather than dangling like a pendant.

“This is awfully expensive for a first date.”

Jeri frowned. “It isn’t about the date. You agreed to a season. I have obligations. Ignoring magical obligations, well it isn’t wise.”

“Obli—“ He dropped the necklace back into the box, frowning. “You had to get me a collar? Why not just buy a leather one with spikes!”

Jeri felt herself blushing. “I didn’t know you swung that way.”

They glared at each other and suddenly burst out laughing at the same moment. The connection between them thrummed like a harpstring, reassuring them that the other didn’t mean harm, and the anger just couldn’t hold up to that sure, inner knowledge.

The waiter brought drinks and took food orders, and smiled when they had trouble stopping the laughter long enough to speak.

Eventually, though, Tom pushed the box back toward Jeri. “Seriously, this isn’t necessary. Take it to the store and get your money back.”

Jeri shook her head. “Seriously, it is necessary. That isn’t store-bought, it was made by a catkin craftsman and carries several layers of enchantment. The simplest one marks you as my familiar, so you can go places and talk to people on my behalf when needed.”

He frowned again, and Jeri rushed to complete what she had to say before he interjected. “The second enchantment provides you with some protections that you will need in case I lose control of a spell and the magic backlashes, or someone sends a magical attack our way, or we stumble into something that you have no natural protection against. The third—well, the third was a special gift for you, and will remain active even if we no longer have this connection.”

He closed his mouth again and raised his eyebrows.

“The third is the gift of what some people call The Sight—so long as you wear the necklace, you will be able to see, hear, and even smell things that normal humans can’t.”

“Like the ephemerals?”

She nodded. “And a lot more.”

“Even if I stop being your familiar?”

“Yes. You refused to let me support you, so you are due a substantial gift. I hope this one is acceptable. It’s not an easy enchantment to perform.”

He smiled slowly, and lifted the necklace out of the box. “I’ve always wanted to see the ephemerals.”

“They can be very distracting. Also, one could argue that I chose that enchantment more for my convenience than yours. I must give you a necklace or collar, but it doesn’t have to be this one—“

“No, I like this one very much. Thank you.”

__________________

Thank you to skajm for today's prompt, and to dreamwidth user Claredragonfly, ankewehner and kelkyag for the prompts to the earlier ficlets I linked to at the top of this post.

If you like what you read, and want to encourage me to put more time into one or another of my projects, please let me know. Requests from people who sponsor me will get priority!

I know I periodically talk about how we humans enshrine and perpetuate our prejudices in the words we use. Usually I'm blogging about subtle usage--but it's not always so subtle.  Names like "Juanita"  (little Juan) or Georgette (little George) may sound pretty, but they belittle the girls and women who are named thus, just in the etymology of the word.  I don't know how many of these girls and women actually feel belittled, event though "little' is a part of their name.

However, I never imagined naming a child "Unwanted".  It's apparently a regular practice in India:

285 Indian girls no longer named Unwanted

Good for India for allowing these girls to change their names!

With a name like Deirdre, I've become accustomed to having my name mis-spelled. It happens on mail, at work, on convention badges, and even when I get something published.

I take it in good humor, joking when I can. The best fun recently was at the Pirate-theme Capricon, where I got many laughs telling people that they'd left one of the "Arrrrrs" out of my name, until someone in registration heard the laughter and insisted on providing me with a replacement badge.

This year, at Duckon, they got my badge right--in 14 point type that no one could see at any distance--and my placards for programming wrong. I re-wrote my name on the back of the placard--but pen does not show up at a distance the way letters printed large do.

One of the panels I was on was Writing in Someone Else's World, a panel that ellenmillion had said she would have liked to hear. This prompted me to request of the audience that if they were recording, I'd appreciate if there might be some way to get a copy. No one had a recorder, but someone was taking notes, and shared them with me.

In the notes, the other three panelists were identified by name.  I was "???"

"???" isn't going to help anyone find me or my work sometime later. 

Should I have used the mis-spelled placard?  I'm inclined to think not--Google isn't likely to find me if I'm mis-spelled, and for the time being, I need to be found online.

I suspect I'm going to feel less good humor about people getting my name wrong in the future. 

Which, of course, is unlikely to be helpful. 

I guess I'll have to try to figure out something constructive to do about it.  But what?

1. My username is wyld_dandelyon because... Well, when I started this journal, I wasn't sure what I was going to do with it, and I thought I would want a place that was somewhat private. But what I've actually come to value about it is having a way to connect to people and share my creative life with people. But that's why I picked a name that sounds obscure.

Dandelions have always been one of my favorite flowers, flourishing wherever they are, strong and vital and stubborn. And wyld--well, I wanted a place to live as large as I can. Wyld reminds me that most of the limits people would have you believe are firm really are not firm at all. The breadth of my imagination and the strength of my will matter a lot more than all the people who think it's not worth trying.

1a. I like the name well enough that I've used it elsewhere, Twitter, NaNoWriMo, and Torn World, for instance. If you can't find me under my mundane name somewhere, try this one.

2. My name is Deirdre because my parents wanted a pretty name of Irish heritage. Happily they chose an unusual name, since I like it that way.

Moira because my mother had to choose between her given middle name and her maiden name when she got married; if the first letter was the same then a girl wouldn't have to make that choice, she could have the best of both worlds.

And Murphy because I came to see that my ex was consistently acting as if it was more important that I was "Mrs. X" than that I was me. And I went along with it for too long, losing touch with many things that are very important to me. When I got divorced, I took my original last name back, promising myself to keep it as a reminder that I must never again allow someone in an intimate relationship to treat the me as if the role I fill in their life is more important than my health, my dreams, my life.

3. My journal is titled Dandelyon's Worlds because it has become the showcase for many of my creative efforts, from the very real world of my garden to all the worlds of my imagination.

By the way, I'll answer to Wyld or to Dandelyon, but Dandelyon is really the primary part of this name, for me.

4. My friends page is called Clearly the Butterfly Effect Rules Here because I never know what I will find there. I love having friends who write, who draw, who make music, who are interested in space, in making their own glazes or dyes, even in growing the fungus that they found on their neglected pumpkin pie. I love having friends who share pictures and comics, science experiments and recipes. I love having friends who live very different lives than I do as well as friends who live similar lives. But mostly I love having friends who are passionate, who are interested in living life fully.

5. My default userpic is a picture of me taken at the pirate-themed Capricon by beige_alert . I use it because I love purple, because I REALLY appreciate seeing actual pictures of the people I correspond with (I have to cudgel faces into my brain repeatedly before it sticks and I know some of the other people I correspond with also have that difficulty), and mostly because the picture is one of the best anyone has taken of me recently.

The userpic I use most often after that is the wonderful wildcat-wizard djinni drew for me. He didn't really plan it to be a user icon, but it's just too cool not to show off regularly. And it also reminds me of the me I want to be, creative and strong and powerful.

In other news--writing: for people keeping track, I had another productive writing day, and am now a whole ten words past where the NaNoWriMo website thinks I should be (today's cumulative goal is 40,000 words). I wanted be much farther along by now, but I think I've finally gotten past the most frustrating stage, where I kept having to stop and grope around for threads that I just didn't have in hand yet. I sure hope so, anyway! I know every story is different, and only a very few flow out the fingertips almost like I'm reading the story. And I know that I learn more from the stories that I have to stretch myself for. But when you're in the middle of a hard stretch, you keep wishing for the other!

Oh, and I'm still Google-ing odd things; the most recent search was: "What does a frustrated skunk sound like?"