The Fairy of AIF
Panic was natural.
It was more than called for in the situation at hand, at least. The loud, shrieking alarm that rang out around him assured him of that. While Bean the Dynamite generally considered himself the type to keep his cool in any situation, no matter how dire, it couldn't be helped to feel just a tad bit nervous while being tailed by a squadron of militant birds mounted atop high speed hoverboards. The various lasers whizzing by his head weren't particularly comforting, either.
Bean pressed down on the acceleration near the front of his own Extreme Gear, shifting the weight of the heavy board tucked under his arm. Perhaps it hadn't been his wisest move to try and take two of these things. They were big, heavy, and overall pretty inconvenient when they weren't in use. But the allure of fleeing the Armada AND taking several of their treasured gear was just too tempting. It may not have been in Bean's nature to lose his cool, but it definitely WAS in his nature to take everything he could get his grubby little wings on.
Still, with the squadron closing in on him, Bean couldn't help but slightly regret his actions. Sure, he had wanted to escape the rules obsessed Battle Bird Armada, but stealing so much of their belongings all at once was doing nothing but screwing him over. He was on the brink of getting caught now and it was all because of his own misguided hubris. The bird had always known that his nonsense would catch up with him someday, not that he planned on learning his lesson from this or any such thing.
Bean pressed down on the accelerator pad harder; the hoverboard seemed to be slowing down. Damn. It was running low on energy. Just his luck that he'd grab one of the fastest of the Extreme Gear, only to find out that whoever used it last hadn't bothered to charge it after using it. The flyboys who used the fastest Extreme Gear always seemed to forget the most basic upkeep. A few quick foot movements set the board into a different mode—the energy burst moving the board forward would be stronger but it wasn't going to last too long.
He needed a way out now.
Or so he thought. Fate had always been a tricky bitch, he supposed—tricky enough to land one of the laser blasts from the patrol behind him right onto the butt on his board where the engine was nestled. With a loud booming sound, the entire back end erupted into smoke and flame that crawled up the board to flicker at the rider's heels. The duck cursed loudly—it was a beautiful thing, having an explosion right on his own heels, but it wasn't really going to be doing him any favors for it to be there. He sure as hell couldn't take the time to admire it. Bean crouched down against the top of his stolen hoverboard, with gloved hands gripped the curved front as the board plummeted down through the clouds. He could hear the confused yells of the patrol above him.
A flash of the mind. Never a good thing in the case of Bean the Dynamite, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
It's a long shot.
But this might lose the patrol. It could rid me of the Armada for good.
That was his last conscious thought before he plunged into the freezing cold water of the Mobian Ocean below.
Bean groaned as he awoke. There were only two things he was able to comprehend at that moment: the utter pain shooting down his left leg and arm, and the unbearable feeling of icy cold wrapping around him. Ignoring the former, he propped himself up on the arm that wasn't in piercing pain to look around…and immediately began to wish he had just stayed unconscious and not bothered to look around.
He was laying on an ice floe drifting around in what could only best be described at the middle of the ocean. Near the corner lay his stolen Extreme Boards, both looking as if they had suffered a great deal of damage. They certainly wouldn't be flying anytime soon, much less getting the duck off this floating death trap. With a strained hiss he rolled over on his back and carefully lifted his leg up—a sharp rush of burning pain shot up the limb and he dropped it back against the hard ice. There wasn't a question that it was at least broken, along with his left arm.
The Armada hadn't come after him, though. If they had then he would be locked up in a detention cell at the moment, awaiting a strict lecture from Battle Kukku. Swiftly followed by a few months of punishment doing physical labor. Bean could only assume that the patrol after him had assume that falling from such a height would've either killed him or rendered him injured to a point where he'd eventually die.
Bean grinned manically at the thought. It hurt his face to smile but he couldn't help it. The Battle Bird Armada thought he was dead—and here he thought they had more faith in his durability. It didn't matter. No more rules for him. No more stupid training. No more stupid myths and bedtime stories. Nothing to do but what he wanted, no rules to live by but his own.
Mission accomplished.
He grit his teeth as another pang of pain shot through his body. Well, mission almost accomplished. If he wanted to live by his own rules then he'd have to live through this first. It wasn't looking like a good bet, if he were to be honest with himself. Multiple broken limbs, broken Extreme Gear, and stranded in the middle of the Mobian Ocean. He wasn't even really that sure how close or far he was from any land.
Hungry, too. He was definitely pretty damn hungry.
The hunger wasn't enough to distract from the clear pain, though—just the mere effort of trying to stand was enough to make the duck fall back against the ice floe. So there really WASN'T anything he could do about this, he realized. He had gotten out of the grasp of the Battle Bird Armada only to end up in the cold grip of the Mobian Sea. Death wasn't something he thought about much—no matter how much of it he had caused, even by accident—but right now it was starting to seem closer and closer.
He sighed, letting his eyes drift close.
It felt nice.
It was incredibly, unbelievably cold and he was in constant pain, but it felt nice to just relax and close his eyes. A small, shockingly genuine smile crossed his beak—not a smirk, not a malicious grin. Just a regular smile. Acceptance. He was going to die. Whatever, right? He was cool with that. He wasn't under anyone stupid thumb, following their plethora of rules anymore. It was all him. Just him, his bombs, and his stolen Extreme Gear. And maybe a few jewels that his sticky fingers had picked up from one of the girls on the way out.
Even if he could never spend those jewels, or fly on that hoverboard again, or see another explosion from his glorious bombs…that was fine. THIS was fine. If he went out of life as a free bird then he was fine.
Content.
And fading out to the sound of water being splashed at…
There was sudden warmth, so odd in this frozen climate. Bean didn't bother to open his eyes—he hadn't died before. Who knew, maybe you got warm before you died. That and he didn't have the energy to open his eyes anymore. His growing hunger pains combined with the burning pain biting at his entire left side took care of that. Maybe it was some cold-friendly beast that wanted to eat him; maybe it was the damn grim reaper here to tell him about everything he did wrong.
He let out a coughing chuckle at that—wouldn't that take a long time? How BORING it would be.
The ice floe was rocking…
It wasn't cold anymore either.
Who cares.
Everything from that point seemed like a dream. Hazy, full of sounds and feelings, but all distant and difficult to reach. Bean didn't WANT to wake up and reach them—like a child in bed on the day on important event, he just wanted to tuck himself into the strange warmth surrounding him and keep it. The rocking sensation was simply too soothing, too hypnotizing, too pleasant. And after all, that was his new stance, wasn't it? To live by what he wanted. His rules.
He woke up in a rather large comfortable bed.
The bird blinked incredulously, glancing around the room. It was a small little cottage room with a large window alongside the bed. Pale pink curtains, transparent in the midday sun, fluttered gently across the light cedar wood embedded into the tan walls. The furniture was simple and homey—a nightstand made out of hand carved wood that his bandanna sat on, a small rounded chair of cushions aside the window, a white loveseat adorned with stitched pillows (all displaying friendly, welcoming messages), and a small hallway leading past it all into the bathroom. Both Extreme Gear that he had stolen lay against the wall, albeit still in a clear state of disrepair.
The doorknob rattled loudly and the duck started, staring at the door past the bathroom with incredulous eyes. A small clicking sound rang out to reveal a small, chubby white hare adorning a long blue dress and an apron. A pair of small spectacles perched on her black nose—they seemed to be constantly slipping off as her nose twitched. But there was a welcoming, warm smile on her face and a tray of food in her paws.
"Hello there, dear. I brought you some soup." She chirped cheerfully as she bounded forward to set the tray on the duck's lap. Bean look at it blankly then shot a confused glance at the perky older woman. "You seem confused, dear."
"Eh, maybe a bit. No more than most days." Bean let out a strained laugh. The white rabbit joined in with a more genuine chortle, sitting down on the side of the bed to place a paw on the bird's blanket-covered foot. Sympathy seemed to be reflected in her eyes.
"You don't know how you got here, do you, dear?" She said soothingly. Bean paused, and then shook his head. "Its fine, darling. Don't worry about it…I'll explain later. It's a bit of a long story. What's your name?"
"Uh, Bean. Bean the Du…" The bird paused for a second—there might be a lookout for him from the Battle Bird Armada. Even if they did probably think he was dead. "...Dynamite. M'name is Bin the Dynamite. Who're you? Or shall I call you Miss Bun Bun? I kinda like that better, to be honest!"
"Ohohoho, you ARE the playful type, aren't you?" She giggled with a flushed face, waving the duck off with her paw. "My name is Harriet. I run this hotel with my family. We've run it for generations, in fact—something of a pride of this town."
"Ooh? And what town would that be?" Bean paused. "Heck, that's a good question in general! What CONTINENT is this? I'm a little bit lost, y'know…"
"Yes, we figured." Harriet chuckled. She gestured at the soup laid across Bean's lap—his stomach rumbled in agreement, and with a shrug he dug into the thick brown broth and vegetables. "Most people who show up the way you do are those who are lost. This is the Bunrise Inn, on the arctic coast of the Mobian Sea. We're on the very edge of the Aurora Ice Field."
"Never heard of it." Bean commented through a mouthful of carrots and peas. Harriet chuckled awkwardly and patted the brown broth off of his beak. It wasn't much use; within seconds, more of the slop was all over him again. The rabbit sighed, but an amused smile still perked at her lips.
"Yes, we're somewhat of an obscure location. Still, this little inn is a fun little getaway for those who can't the hubbub of everyday life anymore." Harriet looked out the window with glassy eyes. "We get people who just want some peace and quiet…and then we get those looking for something more."
"Sumfin' mor'?" Bean managed through his mouthful of food.
"…Rest up, dear. You have some bones to heal." Harriet glanced down at the tray of food on Bean's lap—or, the lack therefore. The bird had completely inhaled the soup and the bread that come along with it. With a chuckle she pulled it out of his lap and bounced off to the door. "You stay comfortable, hun, and if you need anything then just give us a ring."
It was a long few weeks at the Bunrise Inn. Pleasant, but long. Bean didn't have much to do besides healing up—his natural instinct drew him to more exciting activities, like explosions or stealing that particularly shiny teapot that Harriet used to serve the guests. He was surprised to find that Harriet had not exaggerated. There were quite a lot of patrons to the tiny little hotel aside the frozen sea, in all sorts of flavors: disgruntled businessmen wishing to escape the stress of work, couples wishing for the peace of a retreat, lonely singles drinking away their sorrows of a recent breakup, academics looking to study the landscape of the Aurora Ice Fields, even a large amount of locals searching for a bite to eat…the seemingly tiny, lonely little hotel was in fact a bustling business venture.
It was definitely charming. It also definitely wasn't exciting.
And that didn't work for Bean.
He may have run away from the hustle and bustle that was the Battle Bird Armada, but that didn't mean that the duck was about to settle into some Hallmark lifestyle. Bean desired action, he desired explosions, he desired…shining things. The glimmer of a ring, the shimmer of a gem, and the glitter that just let you know that something was valuable.
The bird bit off a hunk of bread as he sat behind the bar of the dining hall—the Bunside Inn had a fairly world-famous diner as well, apparently. He had to admit, for something as simple as bread, it was damn good. Still, bread didn't solve his problem. He wanted things that gleamed in the sunlight and it wasn't too easy to get such things without money. And, well, money wasn't something he didn't have much of at the moment. Miss Harriet had been letting him stay at the inn free of charge for some reason so he wasn't in desperate need for it, but eventually he knew the call of the gleam and glitter would rope him in.
There wasn't much he could do, though. There weren't many job that regularly awarded a person with shiny stuff.
"—shot 'em down with one bullet!"
"Aw, you lyin' son of a bitch! There are three of them!"
"Like hell!"
Bean glanced over to the men aside him at the bar—a pack of rough looking lizards, arguing over an almost empty pitcher of beer. There wasn't a single one that wasn't carrying a weapon nor was there a single one that didn't have a nasty grimace pasted across their faces. Next to the arm of the largest one was a dagger embedded into the counter, pinning down a group of papers. On closer inspection, the duck realized that they were a bunch of Wanted posters.
Bounty hunters, then…
"What're ya lookin' at, bird?" Bean looked up; one of the mercenary lizards had closed in on him to stare him straight in the eye. The duck cocked his head to one side questioningly. "Don'tcha be pissin' me off, bird. Ain't no one should be lookin' at my business papers, y'hear?"
"Oh, Joe, would you leave my guests along?" Harriet scolded, appearing behind the counter with another pitcher full of alcohol. She sat it down between the lizard mercenaries and they nearly all jumped it at the same time, spilling alcohol all over the counter. The rabbit threw up her arms in defeat. "You boys will never learn! I told you at least TRY to act civilized in my restaurant!"
"Sorry there, Mrs. Harriet." The largest lizard apologized with a grin as he wiped the fizzing liquid off his snout. "Guess it's just in our nature. You sayin' that this little shrimpy ass bird is your guest?"
"As a matter of fact, Joe, I am. So I would like it if you left him alone." Harriet huffed, hurriedly cleaning up the counter.
"Oh lemme guess. Did the 'Fairy of Aurora Ice Field' bring this one too?" Joe chuckled. A deafening silence fell over the diner, aside from the crack of the glass that Harriet dropped to stare at the bounty hunter with an open mouth. He let out a derisive snort. "Really now? You idiots still believe in that dumbass fairy tale? Did'ya know I have a bridge to sell ya, too?"
"Joe, don't…"
"Ah, don't gimme any of that junk, rabbit!" The lizard sneered. His fist slammed against the counter hard, making the glasses around him fall against the hardwood bar. Bean sat back and sipped at his own drink, interest gleaming in his blue eyes. "The people 'round this joint are the lowest bar of idiocy if they still believe in bedtime stories like fairies, much less some ice fairy that helps people!"
"Hey, I don't mean to interrupt…" Bean said casually, holding up his hand and downing the rest of his drink. "…but I'm a bit new around here, and I just CAN'T help but notice that I have somethin' to do with this glorious little debacle. SO. Anyone want to let me in on this little fairy tale."
Both the lizard mercenary and the rabbit hostess stared at the bird blankly, and then they exchanged a glance. Joe snickered and glared menacingly at the inn owner—she simply jutted out her lip and crossed her arms. He shrugged and kicked back against his chair, resting his feet on the bar counter and gestured out for the woman to explain what the fuss was about. Harriet shook her head and took and deep breath, focusing an apologetic look on Bean. The bird simply raised his glass with a cheerful grin.
"Joe was speaking about a local legend around here…a relative new one, only emerging in the last ten or twenty years. But it is a legend nonetheless. We called it the Fairy of Aurora Ice Field, or the Fairy of AIF for short." Harriet explained. Her paws were tightly clenched together, betraying her nerves. "Not much is known about it, I'm afraid, but…it is said to be a behemoth of a creature that patrols these lands of snow."
"Patrols them?" Bean asked, raising a brow curiously. A grin had begun to spread across his face. Harriet smiled, uncomfortably but with warmth.
"Yes. Though none of us have met the creature that roams the ice fields, we do know that the beast is of a gentle will. And is considered of ill manner to speak POORLY of the Fairy." Harriet snapped, shooting a glare at Joe. The lizard shrugged. "It is ill manner because the Fairy is a kind being that retrieves those who have lost their way. If you are in need of assistance in this snowy region, and begin to lose yourself, then you may have the luck of being found by the Fairy. And the Fairy will bring you to a nearby town to leave you with those who can help you."
"Like my ice."
"Yes, those like yourself. The Fairy is a kind beast that blesses our path, and our beautiful Aurora Ice Field." Harriet cast a wistful glance out the window. "But no one has ever seen it. It only comes in the dead of the night to deliver those who it helps, and generally the people who it helps are not conscious enough to identify anything about it. It is a strange, kind beast."
"That's interesting." Bean mused, leaning back. His fingers drummed against his beak in thought. "That's very interesting."
"I beg you not to think much about it, dear." Harriet cautioned. "It is generally thought that the Fairy of AIF does not help the conscious because it does not want to be seen. No one knows what would happen if one were to see the behemoth in plain sight, and I beg to caution that such a thing might be for the best."
Bean wasn't listening.
It was too late already.
"You're leaving already?"
Bean turned to face the rabbit caretaker and her many children—she wore a somber expression. Although she had been helpful in suiting the bird up in warm winter gear and travelling equipment, even wrapping up the Extreme Gear without any questions asked, it was clear that she didn't think highly of him leaving. She had repeatedly warned about something called the 'Savage Snow' that came this time of year and stranded many a traveller.
But the bird couldn't wait.
He was already too interested.
Bean figured that the rabbit woman was already aware of his plans, and more than likely that contributed to her lack of support in him leaving. It hadn't been hard to figure out his goal in trudging out into the deepest parts of the Aurora Ice Field. The bird had announced it directly after being told the local mythos, after all. One couldn't be more obvious short of directly declaring their intent.
"….Bin…though I know that's likely not your real name." Harriet said quietly, holding out a pack. Bean cocked his head to the side; she had guessed so easily? He figured that he had convinced the innkeeper, but apparently not. "This is some extra food…mostly bread and nuts, but it will likely serve you well in your…journey."
"Thanks, Miss Bun-Bun." Bean chirped, giving the woman a thumbs up. She chuckled wearily.
"Look, dear. I know what you're planning on doing, and I don't much approve of it. After all, it goes against local tradition." Harriet began. "But I also know that you have to do what you must do. And if looking for the Fairy of Aurora Ice Fields will satiate you, then I can only wish you luck in your quest."
"Satiate me? It's just a passing interest, Miss Bun-Bun." Bean snickered, turning to face the hills of snow.
"…Then I can only wish you luck in your passing interest, dear. Please be safe, and remember, the Savage Snow will be hitting any day now. Keep yourself safe, and try to finish your business before it comes along." Harriet turned away from the duck, and then paused. "…And just so you know, 'Bin', even if you were some wanted criminal, the Bunrise Inn will still house you. We let miscreants like that Joe fellow in, after all. So next time you stop by, you should go ahead and give 'Miss Bun-Bun' your real name. We don't turn in guests favored by the Fairy of AIF."
"…Hey, Miss Bun-Bun. I'll see ya around." Bean chuckled, heading off into the flurry of snow passing through town. The rabbit sighed heavily.
"Good luck, child."
She hadn't been wrong—the snowstorm had picked up quickly once Bean left town. At points it was so strong that the duck could barely see in front of himself. Not that it mattered much anyways. The Aurora Ice Fields, though having beautiful skylines outside of storms, weren't the most scenic in terms of landscapes. Just long, empty spans of snowbanks with the occasional glacier sticking out of them. Even when one wasn't fighting a raging storm, it was easy to get lost since everything looked the same to the untrained eye.
Bean didn't really care, though. Whether he got to a new town, or whether he got lost, it didn't matter. The Fairy of Aurora Ice Field…he wasn't one to believe in fairy tales, not really. He enjoyed them, and would always play along with them, but he didn't really buy into them. Bean was the type of person to only believe in the glory of cold, hard, shining cash. Fairy tales rarely bought you anything, so they weren't of much use to him. But the fact was, whatever this myth was, it had done him a favor. Him, a total stranger who by means should be considered highly suspicious.
Bean found that very hilarious, and very curious.
What was this so-called Fairy's game? It had to be real, since it couldn't have been NOTHING that dragged him from an abandoned ice floe to the Bunrise Inn. No, there was something tangible behind what had happened, and that something had to be a living and breathing creature. So why was it hiding? Why did it bother to help him out? Was it some kind of horribly deformed monster that hid in the mountains of snow in order to hide from the world? Bean chuckled at that thought—it sounded almost like a soap opera drama.
He held up an arm. The storm was picking up again. With a grunt, Bean pulled the bagged up Extreme Gear up further on his back. It was becoming a pain in the butt to transport the hoverboards but he'd be damned if he'd dump them. The bird had stolen them, fair and square, and even if they were broken he knew he could probably cobble them back into working shape. If he could craft his own explosives from scratch, then a simple flying hunk of metal wouldn't be any trouble.
"Maybe the Fairy of AIF can direct me to a good mechanic." Bean joked to himself. Mostly it was to distract from the fact that he was beginning to think he was walking in circles. The glaciers as a whole looked mostly the same, but the bird could swear that the one he had just walked by was the same one he walked by an hour ago. And an hour before that. Had he been out there for that long? He supposed he had been. It was easy to get lost in one's thoughts.
Said thoughts were interrupted by a loud, audible crack from under his feet. The duck looked down in confusion, eyes widening when he realized that his foot was place firmly on ice. Bean hadn't even realized that he had stepped off of the snowbank and onto what he realized was a frozen lake of some sort. A recently frozen lake, considering the spiderwebs of cracks dancing away from his foot. He looked back as panic filled him—he couldn't see far enough to see if he could make a run for it. Even if it was possible, moving might crack the ice. The duck could swim, but getting through a layer of ice would threaten to make it more difficult.
Bean slid his foot backwards hesitantly—more cracked, deeper this time. The bird cringed. With the weight of the Extreme Gear on his back it wouldn't be much longer until that ice was no more…and he would be better acquainted with the deep frozen water.
A cracking sound.
He looked up cautiously.
It wasn't coming from under his feet. The sound was coming from nearby, and drawing closer, as if something was forcing its way through the gates in the frozen lake. With the gusts of snow blowing past his face, Bean couldn't make out what was beyond him. A vague, grayish shape atop a shape with a sharp point directed at him…
A boat.
There was a boat pushing through the thin frozen ice.
It pushed up alongside the duck. The boat was no professionally made product, that was for sure. It looked as if it had been cobbled together in someone's backyard with the leftover wood from some other product. Bean supposed it was staying afloat, though, and that was all he really needed. He reached out a desperate gloved hand to the large figure seated inside—a large paw adorned in a snowglove reached out from under the thick fabric it was wrapped under, firmly grasping the duck's skinny wrist and pulling him forward into the rickety boat.
Bean collapsed in front of his savior, letting out a breath he hadn't even known he had been holding. Glancing back he noted that the Extreme Gear and his supplies were still safe. They had landed behind him in an undignified heap. The duck let out a sigh of relief, patting the snow gloved hand that had been offered to him. Then he paused, looking up to observe the boat's owner.
He was of a massive size, that much was certain. The individual who had grasped Bean out of the icy lake was at least four times the size of the green duck. The dynamo figured that he could've comfortably sat on the beast's shoulder with room to spare. Various blankets and fabrics were wrapped around his massive figure—it took several of them to cover the clear behemoth's massive size. From under the top blanket poked a protruding peach snout, and one arm coated in thick yellow fur extended out from the protective barrier against the cold. Regardless, one could still see a clear ripple of strong muscle underneath it. The snow glove adorning the hand that grasped the duck was ratty and old but thick and clearly durable.
Overall, the man who had saved him was a bit intimidating.
"T-thanks." Bean spluttered out. He only received a curt nod in return, his arm released so the large creature could grasp the oars of the boat and push back to shore. "T-thought I was a goner there for a second, ha ha! I owe you one."
Nothing. The other simply continued to row back to shore.
"…So, uh, who are you?" Bean asked. The rowing stopped momentarily; red eyes focused in on the duck from underneath piles of fabric. Then the rowing picked up back again, with the question going completely ignored. Bean, beginning to feel slightly more comfortable now that he was away from the imminent threat of drowning, leaning back against the bow of the canoe. "Not much of a talker, huh? I can deal with that. I prefer people who don't talk too much. Gives me more time to say what I need to get out, ya know. I just got a lot to say. Can you at least answer yes or no questions to me?"
Silence, then another nod.
"Alright. You live out here?" Bean questioned, watching the ice being cut through by the canoe as they drew closer to shore. The wrapped up figure gave him another nod. "Were you born here?" A shrug. "Hmm. I guess it's easy to forget something like that, huh? Babies have pretty bad memories. I don't really remember where I was when I was born either. It's not important. You go to town often?"
His boat companion waved his hand back and forth; Bean took that as a mid ground answer. "Sometimes, I guess? Yeah, it's a cute little town over there, Folgar. I stayed at the Bunrise Inn for a while. Nice folks there. Really had to control the urge to blow it all up, considering that they were lettin' me stay there for free."
Bewilderment shone in those red eyes looking down on him and Bean snickered. "Hey, no offense there. I just think the world is a little better with a little…boom, you know?"
Gloved fists pressed together against each other, then pulled swiftly away from each other in an explosive movement. The behemoth repeated his actions several times, with Bean looking at him questioningly. Then he caught the curious, confounded look in the other's eyes and let out an amused laugh. The duck's hands came together in similar fists, and then swiftly drew away from each other in the same motion that the other had made.
"Like, boom, see? Super boom a-go-go, see?" Bean exclaimed enthusiastically. Confusion still seemed to reflect in those red eyes. The duck sighed, and snapped his fingers, summoning a round bomb to his hands. The wick fizzed like the Fourth of July as he casually tossed it far off to the side. Seconds later, a loud and ear-shattering explosion rang out across the lake—the massive man across from him ducked down against the bottom of the canoe as pieces of ice flew across the field at them. Bean chuckled uncomfortably.
"Oh, uh, yeah…whoops." He mumbled nervously, yelping slightly as the canoe came to a jolting stop against the snow covered bank of the lake. The other man quickly tied it up against a heavy peg embedded in the group, then gestured to the duck to follow him. Bean shrugged and, grabbing his supplies, pushed through the heavy snow after the red eyed mute. He supposed it couldn't hurt to follow someone who had saved his ass, even if that someone WAS four times his size.
A thought struck him.
"Hey." He trudged through the snow with extreme effort—the other rolled his eyes and grabbed the duck by the back of his bandanna, placing him in the crevice of his arm. The other free arm slung the Extreme Gear over his massive shoulder. "Oh, damn, thanks. That stuff has been hell to drag around. Can I ask you a question?"
A sigh was his only response.
"Are you that thing they talked about at the Bunrise Inn? The Fairy of Aurora Ice Field?" There seemed to be no comprehension in the eyes staring back at the bird. Bean sighed; he needed a different tactic. "Have you been picking up people who get lost in the Ice Field and in the Mobian Sea? Have you been dropping them off at nearby inns in local towns?"
A slow nod.
"So it IS you! D'ya remember me? You dumped me off at the Bunrise Rise a few weeks back!" Bean clapped his hands in excitement, launching forward to latch onto the stranger—he flinched slightly, shaking the duck off his leg. Bean laughed. "Pretty sure you saved my life, big guy!"
The claim went ignored. The so-called Fairy had positioned himself by a large, round snowdrift and had begun to press all his weight against it. Bean quirked his head to the side then started when the white mass began to shift to the side. To his surprise, the inconspicuous snowbank was actually a large boulder that had been buried under the snowfall. Behind it was the entrance to a cave—the light of a dying fire flickered deep within its reaches, the licks of red light and promise of warmth very encouraging to the bird. Still…the idea of a small cave coupled with a large, strong, and possibly dangerous creature didn't bode well.
A large paw pressed against the small of Bean's back, not giving him the time to decide. As gloved hands grappled uselessly at the yellow fur of the Fairy, the duck was shoved unceremoniously down the rocky passage towards the bright, beckoning red light of the fire. No choice at this point, really.
The long cave led to a dead end, rock walls curving around a space that wasn't much larger than the menacing creature himself. In the middle of the rounded space was a dying fire; the clothed one moved forward to lug another log onto the pile. The bright burst from the additional tinder gave Bean a better view of the place he had entered—several blankets lay aside a raggedy pillow tucked in the corner, with several dented pans at the foot of the makeshift bed. Tins of what looked like old food cans were scattered around the cave.
It looked like the supplements to a paltry existence, no doubt about it.
Suddenly, everything went black—Bean kicked in irritation at the large blanket that had been thrown over his head, pushing it out of his eyes with his thumb to pout at the behemoth. He was shedding his layers of cloth and dropping them without a care in the world. With all the layers gone, the dynamo could clearly see the visage of the man who had saved him twice now.
A polar bear. A massive creature with yellow fur matted in the dirt and grime of the icefield. His hair hung down the back of his head, haphazardly tied into a careless ponytail behind him. Large, muscled arms were betrayed by a noticeable paunch around the stomach. It didn't change much—the bear still towered over Bean with ease, and had fists the size of hams. He would've easily intimidated anyone, especially with those fiery red eyes.
Polar bears, Bean mused as he watched the bear grab a pan from the pile. They were rare. He'd never met one, that was for sure, and most people at this point considered them to be extinct in Mobius. If, say, a bemused and unworldly local was to see such a rare creature tromping around their area…well, it would not have been difficult for them to mistake it for something much more fantastic.
Like, say, a Fairy.
Yeah…this was his Fairy of Aurora Ice Field, alright.
"So!" He chirped cheerfully. The bear looked up from the tin of food he was unloading into a pan. "You live here, huh?"
The polar bear glanced around the cave; if Bean didn't know better, he would've come to the conclusion that the other was almost embarrassed to present his paltry accommodations to anyone. Even a dinky little duck who talked too much. Bean wondered if the bear had ever had anyone in this little cave—from what the stories about the 'Fairy' said, this beast rarely interacted with others directly. Much less to a point of inviting them over for a cup of tea and a snack.
Bean grinned smugly. He supposed he was just special that way.
….Or the snowstorm was simply too much to stay out in, even to take the precocious little animal back to the Bunrise Inn.
The duck blinked in surprise as a tray was offered to him—a cluster of mashed peas and carrots from the look and smell of it. The bear pressed it insistently against the smaller chest. Bean chuckled lightly. Looking for utensils and finding none, he shrugged and shoved a massive clump of the mush in his mouth. Nothing to write home about but he had been starting to get hungry again. Glancing over at the bear, he figured he must've felt similar as he too was shoving clumps of the food in his mouth with no dignity to be heard of.
"So…" Bean began, mouth still full of peas. "What's your name?"
The polar bear stared at him blankly—there wasn't a trace of comprehension in his red eyes. Bean tapped his fingers thoughtfully against his knee. "Okay, let's try again. Folks call me Bean the Dynamite. What do they call you?"
More silence.
"…IS there anyone here to call you anything?"
He looked away from the duck quickly, focusing intently on the empty tray against his legs; Bean cringed. That might have hit a nerve. Polar bears were damn near extinct nowadays, after all, so who could even say where the rest of this behemoth's family and friends had gone off to? Knowing the dynamo's usual tact, they were probably all dead and he had just brought up a nasty memory.
"Uh, nevermind that, big guy." Bean stumbled over to pat the polar bear on the knee. He received only a bemused look in return. "Look, bud, if you don't have a name then that's fine. But I gotta call you something, you know? You mind if I name you? Cuz its gonna make conversation kind of awkward if I can't call you something. Like, y'know, 'hey, you' is kinda rude. But something like 'hey, Jim', that's a lot more friendly. But not Jim. You don't look like a Jim. Unless you like the name Jim. Do you like the name Jim?"
The polar bear stared at the duck in open confusion.
"Yeah, I figured not. Big tough guys like you need big tough names. Something durable, something relatable. Jim ain't a tough name. It ain't relatable, either, at least I don't think so. Am I right?" Bean proclaimed, beating one fist against his chest. The other just nodded uncertainly, hesitantly pulling up a new log to toss on the flickering red mass of fire. "Boy, you sure are concerned with that fire. Where do you get all the wood for it, anyways? I didn't see many trees around here, but maybe I missed something. Hey, how about that?"
The beast paused.
"Yeah, you know. Wood? Nah, too…implicatory." Bean mused. "Tree is too obvious. Plus I'd always get confused in forests. Am I talking about you? Am I talking about the actual tree? Too much confusion. Don't need that kind of confusion. Am I talking too much for you?"
Blank stare, followed by another slow shake of the head. Bean grinned widely. "Man, I LIKE you! Everyone I've met has talked too much, or told me what to do, or sent me off to some stupid Armada military for birds, or told me 'don't blow that up, Bean, it's worth a lot of money'. But you don't have nothin' to badmouth at all! But you still get your thoughts in. I LIKE you, buddy. I LIKE you…Bark!"
The bear cocked his head to one side. "Yeah, that's it! Bark! I don't talk about bark the substance too much, so it won't get confusing if we're in the woods or something. Hey Bark, you got anymore of those peas? They were pretty good for mush out of a can."
The bird held out his plate expectantly, shaking it at the bear. Bark stared, then sighed loudly.
Harriet hadn't been kidding about the Savage Snow.
The snowstorm lasted for nearly three weeks, with Bean cooped up in the tiny cave abode with his new friend of sorts. Ever so often Bark would leave the safety of his dwelling to venture out into the raging snowstorm, usually bringing back a pile of wood or a few new tins of canned food. He never said a word to the duck before leaving, only gesturing at the boulder near the end of the entryway to let the other know he was leaving. Sometimes he was already gone when Bean woke up. But he was always there at night preparing an array of canned fruits, vegetables, and the occasional meats for the two of them.
Still, even if Bark wasn't the talkative sort, Bean had to say that he thought they were getting along quite well. Bark didn't mind his constant questions, or even his constant talking—he would sit there quietly yet attentively listening to the rambling tales that the duck had to offer. Whether it was a tirade about names, a lecture about bombs, or just a simple tale about his questionable antics at the Battle Bird Armada…the polar bear would listen. Even moreso, he seemed genuinely interested in listening, as if he was simply glad that someone was talking to him. On some nights the bear would even prompt Bean to talk, nudging his with his snout until the bird gave in with an amused laugh and launched into a new speech.
It was weird. Bean had never really had someone even willing to just put up with him, much less actually WANT him to be around. Usually he'd get a firm 'shut up' if he rambled for even a minute, much less for the hours that he babbled at Bark.
It was kinda nice, actually.
Nice could only last for so long, though. The fall of the Savage Snow was easing up and the piles of snow were beginning to melt down slightly. Bean was able to leave the cave and see further than two steps in front of himself. He kicked at the white powder listlessly, sending showers of it across the ice field. Bark stood behind him, paw planted firmly on the back of the duck's head. Bean gave him a weak grin.
"Guess the storm is over." He commented. Both his travel bag full of food and the wrapped up Extreme Gear were tossed haphazardly over his back, the weight pushing him down a considerable amount. "Guess I can go now. You, uh…take care of yourself? I mean, it doesn't seem like a place that's really great to live in, but, uh…keep on going. Yeah?"
The polar replied as usual, with nothing but a simple pat on the back. Bean chuckled. "Yeah. I guess so. Thanks for helping me out, big guy."
The duck began his shuffle into the arctic freeze. To his surprise, the shadow that had fallen over him did not leave. He turned his head slightly to peer past his piles of equipment; Bark hovered over him, having followed him from the cave entrance. Hesitantly the duck took one step forward—the bear copied him. Was Bark following him? Did the polar bear want to…come with him? Did the so-called Fairy of Aurora Ice Field prefer conversation with a duck to living alone in the cold?
Bean snorted. Like it was even a hard choice. He giggled slightly as the bear wrapped an arm around him, lifting the bird to perch on his shoulder. The Extreme Gear was thrown onto his strong back—seemingly weightless in the hands of such a massive creature. And on said beast's face was something that the bird had yet to see pass onto Bark's face so far: a warm smile.
"Bean."
The bird jolted, staring at the bear in confusion. "What'd…huh?"
"Bean." The polar bear said clearly, voice rough and out of use. "Bean. Bird, Bean. Dynamite Bean."
"You CAN talk!" The bird shrieked in delight, clapping his hands together. The bear nodded. "Do you just not LIKE to talk? Does it hurt to talk? Ooh, can you only talk once a year."
"Not good. English?" Bark struggled to piece together the words.
"Ohhhh. You're not fluent, huh. Hey, don't worry about it! I wasn't fluent in English once." Bean scratched his head. "I mean I think I was pretty little when I wasn't fluent in English, but hey! I probably can't speak your language too well either. There are a lot of languages I can't speak! Hey, you want me to show you how to speak English better? Or do you like to not talk better? 'Cause I gotta say, it suits you. The big, mysterious stranger type. I get chills just thinking about it! Course that could be the subzero temperature…"
"Can English better. Like….not, better. But can." Bark managed. Bean nodded.
"You wanna know but you still prefer not talking. It's cool, big guy, don't you worry about it. You can know and not apply the knowledge, after all." Bean leaned back against the head of the bear, smiling to himself. "You know something, 'Fairy of Aurora Ice Field'? I think we're gonna be hanging out for a long time."
"Bean." Was the only response—but it was a tone of agreement, of endearment, of close affection.
And with that, the pair strode off into the snowy fields.