A/N: At last, the long-awaited (what long awaited?) chapter of...stuff? Ehehe...I apologize for the time taken OTL My writing style seems to have fluctuated again.
Anyway! I found a Beta! ^^ Eternal thanks to iDestiny for agreeing to beta 8D Three cheers, she's so awesome! *three cheers later* Right, on with the story?
A wry smile made its way onto his face as he surveyed the damage his Gardens had suffered. The sky was still blue, the sun still shining as brightly as it had been. There was still green, though now little order and plants were lying haphazardly around the place. The few trees that were standing looked tired and spent, frantically digging their roots into the firm soil. To an outsider, it was the Incomparable Gardens no more. But to Lord Sunday, it looked better than it had ever looked before.
It now truly reflected him. In a sense.
Hurried Denizens began scrambling up to what used to be the Elysium. There was a lot of chatter, an abundance of questions and plenty of movement. Dodging questions such as 'My Lord, why did you do that?' he smoothly walked down the hill and set about wandering the disaster-struck gardens on foot.
Presently, the sound of wings made itself known, and Lord Sunday glanced up briefly to find his Noon flying towards him on a giant dragonfly. He stopped in his tracks and patiently waited. With all the speed he could, Noon descended from the dragonfly, dismissed it, and then approached Sunday.
"May I join you, Master?" he asked.
Sunday pretended to consider for a moment. "You may," he said at length, "but do you not have duties to do, Noon?"
"I do," replied Noon smoothly, "but do you not also have work which requires your attention? Surely the necessary work of a Trustee outstrips the importance of the work of a simple Time of Day?"
Lord Sunday smirked. "Indeed. There is no harm in a simple stroll if the work is completed at its due time."
"But this is not a simple stroll, is it?"
"It is not quite."
When Lord Sunday did not continue, his Noon stayed silent. They resumed walking, occasionally stopping to observe the damage of the storm. Sunday often bent down to examine the leaves of many plants, sometimes lingering for several minutes before standing up and walking off once more. Each time this happened, Noon remained behind and waited obediently. Neither of them broke the silence. It was only the external sounds of reconstruction that interrupted the quietude.
All around them, the clatter could be heard, a Denizen rebuilding a blown-down shed or cleaning the fallen leaves. Very few of them noticed Lord Sunday or his Time. Dawn has temporarily assumed control over the Gardens and Dusk, with a pair of dark wings, was flying around in case anyone looked for assistance.
"May I ask, Master, why you did that?" asked Noon, breaking the silence. It was a question he had wished to ask at first, but had been waiting for the right time.
Lord Sunday did not answer immediately, but kept walking. "The Incomparable Gardens are beautiful," he said, "but that beauty is not natural. It is artificial and made, simply maintained by our efforts. It lacks a sense of… the natural."
"Naturality is not always the best," advised Noon.
"So I used to think, long ago."
Noon frowned slightly. "Long ago, sir? The House has just been created, and it has hardly been a long time—"
"Did the New Architect not tell you of this?" interrupted Sunday, frowning slightly.
"Of what, Master? The Architect has told us what we needed to know."
"No, it is nothing." It was probably better this way; the Denizens themselves would be able to start anew, and the Architect's mistakes—for they were not the fault of the Trustees: rather of Her betrayals—could be wiped clean. Now, there were only a few beings who remembered the history of the Old Universe. "Tell me, Noon. What do Denizens of the House call the Piper's Children now?"
"Piper's Children are called exactly that," replied Noon. Then, in an attempt to change the subject, he turned his eyes to the garden. "Do you wish for us to fix the Incomparable Gardens, or do you wish for us to leave it as it is?"
There was another long silence. "Fix it," he said. "Naturality is not bad, but occasionally we must intervene. Noon, take command of Beds 1 to 100. Dawn and Dusk seem to need a little help."
Noon lingered, unwilling to leave. At last he seemed to make up his mind and bowed. "Of course, sir."
-xox-
Paperwork flooded in from various parts of the House. Dusk was forced to sort through it, separating any actual paperwork from anything related to damage of the Gardens. The actual paperwork was split between the Times and Sunday and anything related to the damage was burnt or shredded.
Eventually, the Gardens were built back up. Step by step, over the weeks that passed, it came to resemble almost what it had used to be. The fallen leaves, branches and boughs were taken and disposed of and the houses that had suffered damage were built back up. The sun still rose and set at the same time and life continued on as usual.
Lord Sunday refrained from using his Key or any other form of sorcery on the Gardens. He spent his days wandering in his domain, occasionally helping with the repairs. More often than not he walked in the disguise of an ordinary Denizen. The day's routine settled down. It was peaceful.
So Lord Sunday was genuinely surprised when the Architect turned up one day, looking like a stranger in his new clothes. Baggy and ripped jeans, leather jacket and secondary-realm obtained sunglasses, he looked incredibly mortal. Sunday pointed this out.
The New Architect shrugged. "The House needs a little brightening up."
"So you do not wish to keep the Old ways?"
"The essentials will be kept. But wearing the same thing and doing the same actions every day is dull and repetitive, particularly after many a millennia. Do you not agree?"
"The difference between mortals and Denizens remains all too apparent," he said coldly. "You do not belong here, Arthur Penhaligon. The Old Architect was not wise, at least, in this respect."
"The Old Architect made few mistakes," said the New Architect, "but the ones she made resulted in dire consequences. I am no longer the Arthur Penhaligon that yearned for mortality; that part of me currently resides in the Secondary Realms. Truth be told, I wished that none of this had happened and the seven Trustees could rule the House peacefully. But it is too late now, and nothing I could have done at the time would have made a difference. The reason I came was to ask why you have demolished the Incomparable Gardens. Are they not to your taste? I will—"
"They are to my liking," Lord Sunday interrupted.
"Then why did you destroy it?"
"Because..." He fell silent. The New Architect nodded. "Because," Lord Sunday began again, "it was too orderly. Too neat. Perhaps… it is better to let nature take its course."
"How wise," smirked the New Architect.
Sunday glared at him.
"Anyway. There is slightly more pressing news. The other Morrow Days—" At Sunday's surprised look, he sighed. "The other Morrow Days wish to meet you. I will arrange a meeting this century. Which dates are you free?"
"None of them," snapped Sunday.
"This matter is unavoidable," the New Architect said pointedly.
"Fine. Noon!" The door opened to reveal the Superior Denizen, who bowed twice briefly—once to his Master and once to the Architect.
"You called, Master?" Noon asked.
"Yes. The New Architect wishes to arrange a meeting this century. When is the best date?"
Noon took out a clipboard with papers attached and flicked through the papers, eyes darting around. From time to time he paused, noting down items before continuing. "Thirty six months and twenty nine days from now?" he asked.
"Far too soon," said Sunday.
"A hundred and ninety four months and twelve days?"
"Too soon."
"Four hundred and seventy three months and nine days."
"...Very well," Sunday conceded. "Does that suit you, Architect?"
The New Architect surveyed him over his sunglasses. "I must check with the other Morrow Days. They request that you modify the Incomparable Gardens so that it is more accessible: at the very least by mail."
"I will consider it," Sunday said coldly. "I will answer next millennia."
The New Architect quickly hid his look of exasperation. "If you can answer sooner, that would be appreciated," he said. "Meanwhile, there are other pressing matters. I will see you again when time allows."
And he was gone, the Improbable Stair already fading in the morning light.
"I think," Sunday said to himself quietly, "I liked it better when the rest of the Trustees were too preoccupied with their Sins to bother me."
"What was that, Master?" Noon said.
Sunday glanced up at him. "Nothing."
-xox-
Years passed in the blink of an eye, and all thoughts of the encounter had vanished. It was only the little scribble in Noon's notes that reminded anyone of the meeting. So it came as a surprise when exactly four hundred and seventy three months and eight days later, Noon knocked on the door and informed Sunday of the meeting scheduled tomorrow.
"What meeting?" asked Sunday, sharply.
Noon shrugged. "It was written here, Sir. It says 'Meeting with the rest of the Morrow Days and the Architect. Meet in Monday's Dayroom. Arrive promptly at nine o'clock'."
Lord Sunday sounded resigned. "Tell Dawn and Dusk the three of you are to accompany me. My Times generally accompany me to meetings," he added at Noon's blank stare, preferring not to admit that his memory of that event was perfect.
The Denizen quickly rearranged his features and exited. "Of course, Sir."
With the coming of silence, Lord Sunday's hand clasped around the Seventh Key. It had been a long time since he had last had a need to use it, but it had always been there when he had wanted it. It was the strongest, always the paramount—it was his Key. With it he could sense every single Denizen working in his Gardens. He could sense Noon's conversation with Dawn, and that Dusk had gone to move the sun for the last time that day. He could sense that Denizens were trimming the row of Wollemi Pines in Bed 19, Row 105. He could sense which plants needed water and which had too much and how well the Drasil trees were growing.
He had spent many millennia taking this power for granted. But now that he had lost it once, he would not risk losing it again.
Lord Sunday closed his eyes and breathed a long sigh. He needed more tea.
-xox-
"You are not required to speak," Lord Sunday said on the morning of the next day. "You are forbidden from arguing. You may write down your personal opinion and confide with me later, speak only if you have no other choice at the meeting. Understood?"
"Yes sir," said his Times.
"Follow me, then." Keeping a firm hold of the Seventh Key, he stepped forward and out of sight. The only thing that remained was a bright shining block. Quickly, Noon entered, followed by Dawn and Dusk. The light faded and the Stair closed.
The meeting room came into sight. Lord Sunday stepped off the Stair to find the room almost full. Eight chairs stood in a circle and six of them were already occupied. Reluctantly, Sunday took his respective seat, feeling the eyes of the other Morrow Days trained on him.
"So this is Lord Sunday!" said a lady whom he guessed to be Wednesday. "It might do to meet your fellow Trustees once in a while and avoid being cooped up in your Gardens, despite their alleged beauty."
Sunday made no reply. His Dawn, however, glowered angrily in her direction, but remembering her instructions, she stayed silent. Wednesday's Noon glared back. Turning to Lady Saturday—formerly Suzy Turquoise Blue, Lord Sunday reluctantly inclined his head. "Is there any particular purpose to this meeting?"
Suzy laughed as her Times bowed. "Well, Art just wanted to 'ave everyone meet up formally. 'S a bit of fun, actually. And Art wanted to address the problems and all with the 'ouse."
"This is a waste of time," Sunday snapped.
Suzy shrugged. "Well, there are several complaints directed atyou, Sunday. Probably would've been better if you let me take the position." By now, Sunday's glare was malicious. She grinned. "Fine, whatever. Suit yourself."
The New Architect had not yet arrived. When a small block of the room began lighting up, the chatter fell to an expectant hush as the New Architect stepped out, wearing a suit. "Welcome to the first meeting of the House, Morrow Days," he said, taking the only unoccupied seat around the table. "I do not believe you are all accustomed with each other. I am the Architect of the Universe."
There was a stiff silence as the Architect waited. Suzy grinned. "I'm Lady Saturday! It's nice to meet you all!"
Slowly, the rest of the Trustees—Sunday included, albeit reluctantly—introduced themselves. When they finished, the New Architect smiled. "Now that we have formally met, we shall commence the meeting."
A/N: I tried, okay? I tried xDD Btw, any tips or suggestions on how the Trustees/Times should act can totally be sent in ^^
So...*subtly hints towards the review button* Yes?
~CC