Chapter Text
The air was different. Not the smell, or the temperature, though––those remained as consistent as they did every year. Slowly the new plants began to breathe forth rich, bright scents, floral and earthy and intoxicating in their own ways. And the soft breeze still brushed by a touch too roughly, trailing a shocking, somewhat icy finger down his cheek. The wizard brushed it away, though of course no one was there, and refocused his gaze out the window.
Long fingers, bedecked with rings, tugged the purple flannel robe tighter around his form. Light from the slowly rising sun flashed across his vision, catching on the glass pane of his window. The window itself swayed ever so slightly in the wind at its open position, the creaking hinges somehow harmonizing with the birds that had already begun to chirp in the trees surrounding his humble tower.
Rasmodius’s eyes darted down to find the source of the gentle nudge that had been repeating against his foot for the last minute or so.
A junimo, its large glassy eyes fixed on his face as best they could, tapped against his slipper. Its round form rocked back and forth, and though the creature’s mouth was not visible at this angle, he could swear it was smiling.
“What’s got you in such a good mood,” he questioned, raising an eyebrow at the creature.
It continued bumping against his foot, its little hands flapping excitedly against the soft outer of his moccasin in a gentle pattering sound, not unlike rain on a tablecloth one left out at the start of a storm.
Though the junimo didn’t respond, the wind certainly did. A great gust blew through, ruffling his hair and stealing the wind from his lungs. The glass pane swung wildly, nearly slamming against the side of his tower––the wizard jumped forward, launching himself halfway through the window, scrambling to catch it. Beneath him, the ground seemed to lurch as though trying to grab him. His stomach dropped, but his fingers grabbed the latch and tugged the window shut.
His chest heaved. Not just at the terrifying launch out his window, but… god, something was on that wind. He could feel it coursing through him, electric and fresh and…new. New but still somehow…familiar.
The creature at his feet jumped up and down, chirping and burbling in that strange language of theirs. It took a moment for him to parse the words, but when he did, something deep within his chest seized. Without knowing entirely what he was doing, the wizard raced across the room to the stairwell and flew up them, his robe trailing out behind him. His slippered feet pounded up the wooden steps, the poor beams creaking under the frenzy of movement. Bursting into the top floor of his tower, with a great telescope pointed at the sky, useful for watching the stars, Rasmodius stopped, his hands nearly shaking as he caught his breath. It glistened in the sunlight. There––that strange tug in his chest again. Slow, steady steps brought him to the telescope.
There was nothing to be worried about. His panic was useless, this strange feeling was explainable and so long as the explanation did not pose a threat to the forest, the tug would fade, as would the burn in his throat.
Deft fingers found the controls for the telescope, angling it away from the sky and towards the town, barely visible over the tops of the trees. Fitting his eye to the lens, he adjusted the focus. There was Clint, opening the windows and breathing in the first air of spring. Did he not feel the…the strangeness that was about? The kids were running off to school with Miss Evelyn, Pierre was opening the shop, and Linus stretched outside his tent, a smile on his face as a bird passed by. Rasmodius refocused, and there was Marnie, chatting with the Mayor as he enjoyed his morning cup.
Lewis gestured towards the other side of town, splashing some of the coffee out and chuckling as Marnie began frantically trying to clean it from his shirt sleeve.
That tug in his chest, again––the glass swung around in the direction Mayor Lewis had gestured. Nothing but shops, forests, the bus stop that had a bus pulling away––
The wizard started upright. He blinked, clearing his eyes against the sun glaring off the telescope. There hadn’t been a bus scheduled, had there?
Pressing his eye to the glass once again, he held his composure even as countless tiny hands and feet began to scramble up his body. Junimos pulled at his pants, his robe, his hair, even his beard––all the while whispering excitedly to one another.
There, standing at the bus stop, looking remarkably confused, was a single individual in a large straw hat, jeans, and a shirt Rasmodius immediately recognized as being much too tailored for any of the sort of labor done around Pelican Town. Their face was downcast, staring at a paper in their hand. With them was a pile of bags; a rolling suitcase and a duffel bag at their side, and a large hiking backpack on their shoulders. Slung over all of it was a messenger bag, worn and decorated with patches and little half-hearted attempts at embroidery.
They looked up, and Rasmodius’s lungs felt as though a vice had closed around them.
Their eyes, a bright, spring green, were fixed on him.
The wizard struggled to take a breath, the air nearly wheezing in and out of his mouth. “They can’t see us, can they,” he asked the junimos. They chattered their excitement, but overwhelmingly agreed that no, there would be no reason for this newcomer to see them.
That bright gaze flitted around the rest of the trees, and the tension in Rasmodius’s chest abated. But only slightly. Stuffing the paper in their pocket, they gathered their bags and heaved a great breath before starting down the road away from town.
Confusion swirled through him. Why were they at the Pelican Town bus stop if they had no intention of visiting the town? The only thing down that way was…
The old farm.
The farmer had died, hadn’t he? Yes. Months ago. But hadn’t Mayor Lewis mentioned someone was coming in to rebuild? He’d left it to someone, the farmer, but who? His only grandchild lived all the way in the city, and––
Oh. Rasmodius followed the newcomer with the telescope. How had he not seen it before? That nose, that was absolutely the farmer’s. And those shoulders, broad and strong. Even the wisps of black hair curling around the farmer’s own aged straw hat were enough to give it away had he taken more than five seconds to watch the person before jumping to conclusions. This was the farmer’s grandchild.
The corner of Rasmodius’s mouth quirked up. At this realization, all the strange, swirling energy seemed to settle. It wasn’t new, it wasn’t malicious––not necessarily. He just hadn’t felt it since they’d last visited, decades ago. When he himself was but a child.
The wizard straightened, angling the telescope back to its rightful position in the sky. Glancing down at himself, he found about eight junimos clinging to him in various spots. He regarded them with a shrug. “Well, what do we think?”
Chatterings of excitement resumed, but one caught his ear––a small green junimo, latched on to the collar of his robe, leaned closer.
The small smile he’d allowed to remain on his face faded at the creature’s words. It was right, of course. This individual was not from here, and was most definitely from the city. City people do not, often, have the same respect for nature as other folks here do. And with the JojaMart down the street…
“Keep an eye on them,” he said. It was almost absent, the command, and whispered like a curse. “I would like to think the best of the old farmer’s family, but we must protect our own.”
One by one, the junimos scattered, disappearing into floorboards or down the stars, some even into thin air. And then, Rasmodius was alone.
He tucked his hands into his pockets, glancing absently around the room. He would go into town today, he figured. He needed some things from the shop. Perhaps he could stop by Clint’s and get a few stones looked at. A drink at the bar, perhaps, if he was there when the sun went down.
And, of course, to get a closer look at this new farmer, though that certainly wasn’t the only reason for his decision to travel in today.
He would avoid Abigail. And her mother. Part of him felt sick for ignoring his daughter, but the girl herself didn’t even know. Besides, Pierre and Caroline had done a wonderful job raising her. It wasn’t his place to interfere.
He may buy her a drink, though. If he stayed later into the day.
Running a hand through his hair, he pushed down the odd surge of excitement. No one new ever came to Pelican Town, especially not someone that the forest itself responded to so positively. But it had to be tempered. A new person could be a force for change, but they could just as easily be useless, or worse, be a force for negative change.
A sparkling black mug soon steamed with coffee, warming his hands. Even the steam curled differently.
Rasmodius did nothing to suppress the smile that curled his lip as he raised the mug for a first sip.