On behalf of the spirit of Easter, I will know bunny-fy my author's note.
Bunny-poem (found on deviantArt): art/Travels-503873916
Bunny-warning: Bunny Bartimaeus is of the opinion us, the bunny lower race, won't be able to understand this chapter as a bunny parody and will take offense on some occasions. Let's prove bunny Bart wrong, shall we?
Bunny-disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. Everything you bunny-nize is propriety of their respective bunny owners (who I will refrain from mentioning because… bunny spoilers!) I'll just say I've been very, bury loosely inspired by Alice in Wonderland.
(And remember, this is all in good fun and hardly matters to the plot.)
I went without map
or compass and I never
saw this place coming.
- Travels, BleedingProphecies
When Nathaniel came to, burning cheeks greeted him, along with the promise of the mother of all headaches. And he hadn't even opened his eyes yet.
Everything was white, and the light hurt his eyes immensely. Nathaniel squinted, trying to make out the blurry forms that were slowly materializing before his lazy eyes. His fingers trembled and ached on his lap; he didn't recall ever feeling this cold — at least when Bartimaeus wasn't around to mess with the temperature. He felt somewhat alienated, on edge, as if someone had spiked his tea.
"Ah, you're finally awake! Took you long enough. I thought that I'd have to actually make you bleed. Pity."
Speaking of the devil.
"Your face now looks livelier, though. You should thank me for the brilliant make up. Blush never came for such a cheap price or satisfying delivery."
He ignored the djinni's ramblings, and focused on where he was. There wasn't much to say, truth be told. Nathaniel couldn't even make out the length or height of the room due to the pure white that engulfed them all. They were sitting in a circle, on invisible chairs, but Nathaniel didn't recognize a single… being. Apart from Bartimaeus, of course, who he should have outright blamed for the headache. And no one seemed interested in him either.
As Nathaniel touched his cheek and winced, he could sense Bartimaeus at his right eyeing him. Probably amused. He focused his attention on the group, hoping some answers would come his way.
"Hello, I'm Katniss, and I never meant for any of this to happen."
He had to wonder what. The girl looked miserable. Was she responsible for his being there?
"Hello, Katniss," the group echoed.
He looked to Bartimaeus for clarity, and found the djinni staring at him already. On the verge of exploding. Literally. His cheeks looked abnormally puffy.
"What?" he whispered.
"Nothing. I just figured it'd be harder to laugh at this if I was looking at you. But I was mistaken. You look like a clown."
"Whose fault is that?"
So there they went again. Bickering like an old, married couple. That could definitely wait. Nathaniel was about to burst into a photophobia crisis if no one provided him with answers.
"Wait. Are we in the Other Place? I actually didn't believe such thing would be possible!"
"No, we're not. But I'm not hurting, which is always a great thing, so this is not Earth either. Figure out the rest on your own. Besides, who would have opened the gate for you?"
Nathaniel ignored him. "Or rather… am I dead? But I feel so alive!"
"And what is this 'feeling alive' measured by in your book?"
"I really need to pee."
"Fair enough." He paused. "Hey, looks like Maudlin Arrow is going to tell the story about her sister again."
"Maudlin Arrow?"
"The girl with the bow who's speaking now. At your left, dumbass. With the black braid and bright eyes."
"Oh, I know who is speaking. But do you have to find nicknames for everything?"
"You haven't even heard the best ones yet!" Bartimaeus complained. "There's Dizzy Legs and Fat Hulk." He pointed to the girl's left, where were sitting a person with a familiar face, dressed up as a pirate, and a green, fat creature that looked like an ogre. "And Despicable Dad and Doe Lover—"
"Hmm, are you actually not making fun of their noses?"
"Meh. Doe Lover's childhood bullies handled it quite well, I have to say. I also like to call him Grim Reaper."
"You're saying you have run out of ideas?"
"I'm saying I found better jokes."
"Sure." Nathaniel conveniently remembered that if he had to address these people, he would better do so by more… flattering names. "Okay, you've had your fun. Tell me their names at once." Bartimaeus was about to retort with something witty, he was sure, but he raised a hand to stop him and added, "And after that, you will shut up. I want to hear what's happening so I can plan a way out of here. And find a godforsaken bathroom."
Still grinning, the djinni said, "Good luck with that."
Nathaniel wanted to protest and insist Bartimaeus answered him properly. However, he noticed the girl had stopped talking and that the only other girl in the room had gotten up. Nathaniel immediately noted her uncommon features: cream hair in a braid and big, round, blue eyes. Braids were in vogue that day or in that place, he reasoned.
"Thank you, Katniss, for sharing that with us… again." She joined her hands as she cleared her throat. "Sometimes you just have to let it go." She paused to let the words resonate with the other girl, who looked at her as if she was insane.
"And that is Elsa Enchanted."
"Which reminds me… can I sing you guys a song?" A choir of groans followed. "It's about the rewarding experience of getting rid of all that negativity."
"What did I say about singin'?" Fat Hulk protested. "My talkin' ass is soundtrack enough."
"Really?"
Nathaniel started, unaware of the presence at his left up until that point. He was doubly surprised to find that person sitting beside him was—
"Really, really. And dwarves make me uncomfortable. Not trustworthy people from my experience."
"Indeed. More so if they're actually goblins," drawled Doe Lover. "Although I reckon that this is not the case. You are not a magical creature."
"Why, thank you. I'd be wondering about that my whole life if not for you. I'm sure my father will appreciate it when I clear it up for him that I didn't murder my mother out of magical spite." The room fell into an awkward silence, which he used to his advantage to plant a smug smirk on his face. "In case any of you are interested in learning my name, it is Tyrion, son of Tywin Lannister. And now I would kill for a bottle of wine, so can we speed things up?" He motioned for the boy sitting next to Elsa Enchanted. "You seem awfully quiet. What binds you here?"
Said boy was floating over the chair casually. "Very nice choice of words. It's a payback prank from Easter Bunny. He didn't like that I'd accidentally made a mistake with his frosting order." The boy smirked, bright eyes twinkled with mischief.
"Do Easter eggs need frosting?" Nathaniel whispered to Bartimaeus, who just shrugged in response.
"So here I am." He sighed, plopping back on his chair in a relaxed position. "And here's the catch: you are all entitled to play this ridiculous game of his today."
"What's in it for us?" Dizzy Legs asked, eyeing everyone in a creepy fashion and tentatively smiling. His golden tooth twinkled. "A treasure, perhaps? A map or a key would be nice too."
"It should be the Great Ring!" exclaimed the person at Bartimaeus' right Nathaniel had also failed to notice up until then. "Boromir of Gondor, son of Denethor II," he added as a side-note.
Nathaniel frowned. This was the weirdest thing. He couldn't help thinking that someway along the meeting someone was going to produce a bunny and make the rest chase it and force it to pump out chocolate eggs for this supposed Easter Bunny to merchandise. Was he in a weird factory that worked on holidays only? And he'd thought politicians and musicians were the only ones that worked on said days.
"Wait a second, weren't you dead?" asked Despicable Dad. Nathaniel immediately noticed his… Russian? Hungarian? accent. An odd mix between the two, he decided.
"Aye, indeed. So many times I've lost count."
"Ah, sounds like me!" Dizzy Legs squealed.
"There's one thing that's been bothering me," Nathaniel began. "Well, at least one of many." Before Bartimaeus' amused arched eyebrow, he cleared his throat. "How come you already have nicknames for them? Isn't this the first time for you as well?"
"No, of course not. I was surprised you showed up, actually."
Nathaniel wanted to know more, but was interrupted by Tyrion. "And you, dark-skinned fellow? Mind telling us your name?"
"Oh boy," Nat groaned.
Bartimaeus smiled with what anyone would label as politeness. Nathaniel wasn't fooled. "Surely." He cleared his throat. "I am Bartimaeus! I am Sakhr al-Jinni, N'gorso the Mighty and the Serpent of Silver Plumes! I have rebuilt the walls of Uruk, Karnak and Prague." He paused for, Nathaniel assumed, dramatic effect. "I am Rekhyt of Alexandria and Necho of Jerusalem! I have spoken with Solomon, Faustus and Zarbustibal. So be honoured I am standing before you, earthlings."
"My goodness. And I thought Daenerys took the longest time introducing herself. I might have just found someone able to beat her," Tyrion said. "And your partner?"
"John Mandrake," Nathaniel answered.
"Hello, John Mandrake," Tyrion greeted. "And welcome to Anti-heroes Anonymous."
And, suddenly, they were falling at an incredible speed towards an evergreen garden, which Nathaniel was sure would be tainted red if he didn't find a way to stop the fall.
"Goodness! Just a moment ago it felt like we were at a very weird hospital and now this? I know where we are. This is Wonderland and I am not amused."
"Find you at the bottom, Nat."
Nathaniel looked at his right and all but had a stroke. "Barti—Come back here, you damned fool!" Bartimaeus waved before changing into a cannon ball and gravity, working its magic, pulled him down to meet the surface with a loud explosion noise. Show-off. "Bartimaeus!"
He knew there was no point in calling him now. If the feeble chance that Bartimaeus had, in fact, heard him came to be, he was positive the djinni would have ignored his protests in a similar fashion.
The grass became clearer and clearer to him by the second, and his eyes drier. Below him, he saw Doe Lover falling to his death like a missile, until he shrank and—
"You've just transformed into a bat!" Nathaniel shouted when the creature floated back up, dark wings open wide.
"Don't tell that to your spirit friend," the bat drawled. "He might come up with another dreadful nickname."
Nathaniel wanted to tell him that the survival ratio for such a fall didn't allow him any hopes, and therefore he didn't need to worry about such thing.
He fell directly into a pile of snow (and the hows and whys of logic didn't concern him because he reasoned protagonists have special perks — he had clearly never met George Martin). And in the middle of a pointless exchange between Fat Hulk and Despicable Dad.
"Ogres are like onions."
"They stink?"
"No."
"They make you cry?"
"No! They have layers!"
"You know, you aren't really doing yourself a favor in comparing ogres to onions. Cakes have layers, as do minions."
"Oh, for Pete's sake—"
He stopped listening to look around. It looked like a garden — it was full of pretty flowers and trees — but it was so large that, no matter how far he looked, he just couldn't find the building it belonged to. Englishmen were very fond of their gardens, so this had to be England, right? Assuming no other people in the world cared for gardening.
A pink egg shot right next to his left ear, startling him out of his stupor. Nathaniel rolled out of the pile of snow and ran to the nearest tree, with twin eggs on his tail.
Bartimaeus appeared right next to him, giving him a jump, and cast a Shield. "Here, I got one for you." The djinni handed him a pistol, making Nathaniel's eyes nearly fall off their sockets. "It'll help you shoot those damned things."
"Wha—"
"It seems Jack Frost's prank backfired on all of us. Easter Bunny decided to put all those waste eggs to use, and this is the result. Happy egg hunting, he said."
"Wait, how do you know all of this?"
Bartimaeus rolled his eyes. "Do you know how long you took to fall from the sky?"
Nathaniel's eyebrows furrowed together. "No." Counting seconds hadn't been a priority. "But I don't suppose it was that long. How can you delay a fall?"
"Oh, believe you me, you don't want to rationalize this world's logic."
Bartimaeus promptly changed into Maudlin Arrow—Katniss, Nathaniel remembered —after that.
"Wait, wait, wait," he said, holding up his hands. "How did you do that?"
"Nathaniel, you might want to sit for this one," Bartimaeus whispered calmly, head leaning forward, about to spill a long kept secret. "I am a djinni, and my superpower is to shift forms whenever I please, to whichever form I prefer, as long as I am privy to the real names."
Nathaniel made a face. "Stop that, will you?"
"By the way, didn't you need to use the bathroom?"
"I don't anymore."
"Convenient. Especially considering just moments ago you thought you were going to die."
"Sure is." Nathaniel just attributed it to this world's weirdness. "Never mind. I want to get out of here. There's a war going in America and I need to—"
"Yes, yes," Bartimaeus interrupted. "Trust me, okay?"
It was a casual plea, so his seriousness was uncalled for, but somewhere in the back of his head it felt right of him to say it clearly. "I do trust you." When Bartimaeus just stared back and made him lose his nerve, he hastily added, "All these people are saying their birth names like it's the safest thing in the world. They are all crazy. You aren't that crazy in comparison."
"I wonder, John Mandrake, how you could know who you are if you forgot or refused to embrace the very thing that holds yourself together." Tyrion Lannister batted away some bushes with a sword Nathaniel had only ever seen in books and museums. "You two are an interesting pair. I've heard legends about shape-shifters, but I had never actually met one."
"Don't tell me you were spying on us."
Tyrion remained silent, but had that knowing smile that nearly made Nathaniel lose all colour to his face. "And I noticed you can cast spells, so if you protect me, I will handsomely reward you with more gold than you can spend for the rest of your days. After all, a Lannister always pays his debts."
Bartimaeus smiled. "I highly doubt your family will be around long enough for that."
Because Tyrion had already served his purpose to the plot, he was hit on the cheek by a blue egg, freezing and exploding into a billion shards of ice before their eyes in mere seconds.
"I guess money can't buy everything," Bartimaeus commented with a shrug.
"This can't get any weirder."
Nathaniel shouldn't have defiled the laws of that world. For next Born to Run started to play, resonating from nowhere and everywhere, and nearly turning them all deaf.
A bat landed on top of a branch of the tree they were using for cover. "I trust you are very fond of talking, even when you don't have anything interesting to say and are only avoiding the fact that we are at war with bloody flying eggs."
Bartimaeus caught the bat in his hand in a swift movement, which promptly turned back to the taciturn man with too big of a nose and black, obnoxiously greasy hair from earlier. He pointed a stick to Bartimaeus' throat. "I know you aren't a creature from this world," he drawled. He seemed to do that a lot. "But hexing you might prove to be extremely satisfying."
The djinni smiled before shifting to a rodent and falling to the grass. Nathaniel hit the disoriented man with the pistol on the back of his neck, before sprinting after Bartimaeus to the open area.
"Oi, Sparrow! Quit running like an ostrich and shoot some eggs!"
"There should be a 'captain' in there somewhere," Dizzy Legs — and now Nathaniel understood the reason behind that nickname — retorted, jumping to the side as a particularly large yellow egg tried to tackle him. He felt around his belt. "Why's the rum gone?"
A better question would be, Nathaniel thought, why are we running from flying Easter eggs because some idiot planted a prank on Easter Bunny?
"Really, what purpose is there to this meeting?"
"To turn us into normal, boring heroes and heroines," answered a passing voice. Jack Frost then sped up and blocked a handful of eggs aimed towards both of them with an ice barrier.
But there's always the one that got away. An egg hit Nathaniel on the face, freezing his brain.
Nathaniel shot up in bed, panting as the remnants of that weird dream dissipated and left him alone in his cold bedroom. He touched his forehead, and the crisp ice melted from the touch.
I tried to include only well-known characters, but for those who didn't get the references, here's a list with Bartimaeus' nicknames:
- Katniss (Hunger Games) – Maudlin Arrow
- Snape (Harry Potter) – Doe Lover/Grim Reaper
- Gru (Despicable Me) – Despicable Dad
- Shrek (Shrek) – Fat Hulk
- Jack Sparrow (Pirates of the Caribbean) – Dizzy Legs
- Elsa (Frozen) – Elsa Enchanted
- Jack Forst (The Rise of the Guardians)
- Boromir (The Lord of the Rings)
- Tyrion (A Song of Ice and Fire)
And I have tragic news. Bunnies actually don't lay eggs. I know. I am still recovering from the shock. Been lied to all my life.
Happy Easter!