HOME | DD

Description

Commission for Arteaus who wrote the following:

“So. . .”

“So. . .”

Jezel and Saint George had barely said more than those two words to each other the entire time they were walking. Even when George had come sprinting down the hallway of the reception area at his work, all he had managed to say was, “Uh. . . Hi.”

Oh boy. Vaguery. Her favorite.

“So. . . ” he repeated, pulling a hand through blond hair that had been bleached from long years spent in the sun. “Had a rough day, huh?”

She fixed him with a withering look that told him all he needed to know. “Let’s see, I woke up and went to school, excited for a new day. However, when I got to school, one of my friends had turned green and grown scales, and my best friend sprouted moose horns!”

“Antlers.”

“Not my point, George!” she said, as her breathing grew elevated and her eyes took a manic gleam. “Where was I?”

“School friends.”

“Right! So, at school, I pass out for like three straight hours. They had to call my mom to pick me up right in the middle of classes. So, not only do I look like a schlub in front of my friends. . .Well, you know how Mom is.”

“Dramatic?”

“Overly dramatic.”

“She just loves and cares for you. I know some kids who would dream of that kind of relationship with a parent,” George said, wearing a gentle smile but his tone was sober.

“Not sure how much I buy her caring about my well being--you weren’t in the passenger seat with her,” she said flatly, as a small twitch in her eyebrow began to form.

“. . . Wait. . .Your mom actually is driving again? You must’ve really scared her; she can't drive to save her life.”

“Or mine! Bob tried his best to keep the keys away from her and pick me up himself, but apparently Mom laid him on his ass.”

“Language,” he chided patiently.

“Bum. . . She laid him on his bum to get the keys.”

He chuckled mildly. “Poor guy didn’t deserve that. Anyway.”

“Anyway!” She continued, “I finally get conscious -- turns out everyone has horns! EVERYONE at home! Bob, Mom. Did you know that Bob is red?! CUZ I DIDN’T!”

“I did. I did know that -- Oh what the heck, what is a deconstructed open face steak sandwich? Isn’t that just a steak with toast?” George said, utter bewilderment as he perused the menu of the cafe they had stepped into to avoid the rain.

  “Yeah and. . .” She cut off, “yeah. . .how did you know Bob is red?"

  “I mean it’s not hard to tell, he’s not exactly the best at glamours.”

  “The whosawhatnow?”

  “Glamours, illusion magic. Usually bending light from around you to disguise your form. Most magic beings can pull it off.” He said over the rim of his hot chocolate -- he had never been a real coffee person, as long as she’d known him, but he had almost as much of a sweet tooth as her mom. Admittedly he worked out more than her.

  “You’re talking like, in D&D, like polymorph spells and stuff? Are you for real right now?” Jezel said, her own menu shivering in her hands. Mostly due to the British Columbia winter. Mostly.

“Older more powerful ones like your mom can actually change their forms.” He said calmly, evenly, like he was explaining why the sky was blue. Licking absently at the corner of his mouth where some of the cocoa had gathered. And the fact that he was so nonchalant about it scared her more than she’d like to admit. And her mom? The more she thought about it, the more it had a chance to sink in. She had the horns too and a tail. . . just like. . . just like. . .

Her head slumped to the table, and she sulked all the way through George ordering their food. “Why aren’t you more disturbed by this by the way?”

  “Well, for one, I’m really old. This isn’t my first time seeing someone awaken to their powers. Second, you had the horns and stuff as a kid” He said through a mouthful of steak, “You should really eat, your burger is getting cold.”

“If I had all of this nonsense -- oh thank you -- ”, she said as her tail handed her coffee to her. “If this was all here. . . why did it happen now?! Look at me!” She gestured at herself before grabbing her chest, “My tits are fucking huge!”

“Language, please, ” he said, extending a hand out to her. She may have been whisper-yelling, but that didn't stop him from looking around at the other cafe patrons.

  “Sorry, my boobs are fucking huge now! Just when I finally accepted myself and was comfortable in my own body -- NOPE super magic puberty decided to hit just before graduation! And then I get to learn all my friends and family are magical monsters from myth -- so to answer your question from before -- NO I’m not having a good birthday, George. So. . . with that out of the way, what are you? Just so I can prepare my already cracking mentality”

“Me?” He said, his eyebrows lifting, pulling the long scar along his brow.

“You! What are you? I'll assume I’m a bull or something stupid. . . what are you, some sort of fairy?” She was getting unreasonable, she knew. Her day had been rough and it was getting to her.

“I’m Roman.” He said mildly, cutting into his steak. If her words had perturbed him he didn’t show it, “and don’t call them fairies. That’s a bit of a slur, Peanut.”

She did smile at his old nickname for her, at least some things were still the same, “Roman? You’re Italian? You kind of look it but I’m not sure I…” Her eyes widened then. He was looking her in the eyes then. The patient look he had always had when he wanted her to work things through. “Wh-What’s your real name?” She had always assumed St. George was an eastern Canadian name like St. Pierre, or St. Cloud. . . with the recent days revelations.

His smile was all the confirmation she needed, a subtle but real thing, full of vitality and warmth -- unlike the ones he put on for show, “My name is Iorios Polychronia Gerontius ex Lydda. I have a few other epithets but I’m sure you can put together most of the picture.”

She could. She was still sorting out his thoughts when he pulled a long parcel out of his hoodie. “Prepared this a long time ago -- your mom and I had a bet about who would get to deliver this to you. Looks like I’m the winner.”

“Where did you fit that-”

  “Hoodie of Holding, not important. . . what’s important is-oh dammit” A chirp sounded as his watch lit up. “Crap. . . sorry, something big is happening in England, a lot of stuff in the UK today it seems. Can you walk yourself home okay? Your mom should be able to fill in some gaps until I get to her house to help explain.”

She nodded as she took the package from him, “I’ll be ok, I’m a big girl.”

He smiled again, his real one, “that you are, say hi to your mom and Bob for me!”
She waved as he ran out, “Wait. . . he forgot to pay! THIS BIRTHDAY MAN.”

Description

Commission for Arteaus who wrote the following:

“So. . .”

“So. . .”

Jezel and Saint George had barely said more than those two words to each other the entire time they were walking. Even when George had come sprinting down the hallway of the reception area at his work, all he had managed to say was, “Uh. . . Hi.”

Oh boy. Vaguery. Her favorite.

“So. . . ” he repeated, pulling a hand through blond hair that had been bleached from long years spent in the sun. “Had a rough day, huh?”

She fixed him with a withering look that told him all he needed to know. “Let’s see, I woke up and went to school, excited for a new day. However, when I got to school, one of my friends had turned green and grown scales, and my best friend sprouted moose horns!”

“Antlers.”

“Not my point, George!” she said, as her breathing grew elevated and her eyes took a manic gleam. “Where was I?”

“School friends.”

“Right! So, at school, I pass out for like three straight hours. They had to call my mom to pick me up right in the middle of classes. So, not only do I look like a schlub in front of my friends. . .Well, you know how Mom is.”

“Dramatic?”

“Overly dramatic.”

“She just loves and cares for you. I know some kids who would dream of that kind of relationship with a parent,” George said, wearing a gentle smile but his tone was sober.

“Not sure how much I buy her caring about my well being--you weren’t in the passenger seat with her,” she said flatly, as a small twitch in her eyebrow began to form.

“. . . Wait. . .Your mom actually is driving again? You must’ve really scared her; she can't drive to save her life.”

“Or mine! Bob tried his best to keep the keys away from her and pick me up himself, but apparently Mom laid him on his ass.”

“Language,” he chided patiently.

“Bum. . . She laid him on his bum to get the keys.”

He chuckled mildly. “Poor guy didn’t deserve that. Anyway.”

“Anyway!” She continued, “I finally get conscious -- turns out everyone has horns! EVERYONE at home! Bob, Mom. Did you know that Bob is red?! CUZ I DIDN’T!”

“I did. I did know that -- Oh what the heck, what is a deconstructed open face steak sandwich? Isn’t that just a steak with toast?” George said, utter bewilderment as he perused the menu of the cafe they had stepped into to avoid the rain.

  “Yeah and. . .” She cut off, “yeah. . .how did you know Bob is red?"

  “I mean it’s not hard to tell, he’s not exactly the best at glamours.”

  “The whosawhatnow?”

  “Glamours, illusion magic. Usually bending light from around you to disguise your form. Most magic beings can pull it off.” He said over the rim of his hot chocolate -- he had never been a real coffee person, as long as she’d known him, but he had almost as much of a sweet tooth as her mom. Admittedly he worked out more than her.

  “You’re talking like, in D&D, like polymorph spells and stuff? Are you for real right now?” Jezel said, her own menu shivering in her hands. Mostly due to the British Columbia winter. Mostly.

“Older more powerful ones like your mom can actually change their forms.” He said calmly, evenly, like he was explaining why the sky was blue. Licking absently at the corner of his mouth where some of the cocoa had gathered. And the fact that he was so nonchalant about it scared her more than she’d like to admit. And her mom? The more she thought about it, the more it had a chance to sink in. She had the horns too and a tail. . . just like. . . just like. . .

Her head slumped to the table, and she sulked all the way through George ordering their food. “Why aren’t you more disturbed by this by the way?”

  “Well, for one, I’m really old. This isn’t my first time seeing someone awaken to their powers. Second, you had the horns and stuff as a kid” He said through a mouthful of steak, “You should really eat, your burger is getting cold.”

“If I had all of this nonsense -- oh thank you -- ”, she said as her tail handed her coffee to her. “If this was all here. . . why did it happen now?! Look at me!” She gestured at herself before grabbing her chest, “My tits are fucking huge!”

“Language, please, ” he said, extending a hand out to her. She may have been whisper-yelling, but that didn't stop him from looking around at the other cafe patrons.

  “Sorry, my boobs are fucking huge now! Just when I finally accepted myself and was comfortable in my own body -- NOPE super magic puberty decided to hit just before graduation! And then I get to learn all my friends and family are magical monsters from myth -- so to answer your question from before -- NO I’m not having a good birthday, George. So. . . with that out of the way, what are you? Just so I can prepare my already cracking mentality”

“Me?” He said, his eyebrows lifting, pulling the long scar along his brow.

“You! What are you? I'll assume I’m a bull or something stupid. . . what are you, some sort of fairy?” She was getting unreasonable, she knew. Her day had been rough and it was getting to her.

“I’m Roman.” He said mildly, cutting into his steak. If her words had perturbed him he didn’t show it, “and don’t call them fairies. That’s a bit of a slur, Peanut.”

She did smile at his old nickname for her, at least some things were still the same, “Roman? You’re Italian? You kind of look it but I’m not sure I…” Her eyes widened then. He was looking her in the eyes then. The patient look he had always had when he wanted her to work things through. “Wh-What’s your real name?” She had always assumed St. George was an eastern Canadian name like St. Pierre, or St. Cloud. . . with the recent days revelations.

His smile was all the confirmation she needed, a subtle but real thing, full of vitality and warmth -- unlike the ones he put on for show, “My name is Iorios Polychronia Gerontius ex Lydda. I have a few other epithets but I’m sure you can put together most of the picture.”

She could. She was still sorting out his thoughts when he pulled a long parcel out of his hoodie. “Prepared this a long time ago -- your mom and I had a bet about who would get to deliver this to you. Looks like I’m the winner.”

“Where did you fit that-”

  “Hoodie of Holding, not important. . . what’s important is-oh dammit” A chirp sounded as his watch lit up. “Crap. . . sorry, something big is happening in England, a lot of stuff in the UK today it seems. Can you walk yourself home okay? Your mom should be able to fill in some gaps until I get to her house to help explain.”

She nodded as she took the package from him, “I’ll be ok, I’m a big girl.”

He smiled again, his real one, “that you are, say hi to your mom and Bob for me!”
She waved as he ran out, “Wait. . . he forgot to pay! THIS BIRTHDAY MAN.”