The Magicians' Realm Chapter 62: Changing Winds, a yu-gi-oh fanfic

Chapter 62, everyone! Sorry for the delay on this one, but the past couple of weeks have been a little busy—on the plus side, I might actually be done with my concept paper in the near future! :D Again, sorry for the delay, and we'll be back to our regularly scheduled Magicians' Realm starting next week.

For the record, Rocky's song in this is made-up, although set to the tune of the "My twitchy witchy girl" song that the dad sings in Coraline. And most likely, he knocked out "Shave and a Haircut" on Teana's door. :) Also, Rocky is surprisingly hard to write for….

In other news, apologies to those who feel that a shotgun is a poor response to animals snatching chickens—my family is old-fashioned that way, and it's hard to feel sorry for the varmints in question when it's a favorite pet chicken that they killed. The gun described is the same as one my father owns, which he has been slowly teaching me to shoot with.

One more thing! To hail someone by calling out "Ho!" comes from the Book of Ruth in the Bible—first time we covered that in Bible class at my first college, I and my friends greeted each other with that for a month or so. :)

Movie this week is Treasure Planet—which, like Atlantis: the Lost Empire, was absolutely brilliant and completely underrated (quietly hoping they show up in my Dream Drop Distance playthrough…).

Angiembabe, thanks for the review! Well…some people prefer a safe life, I suppose….Haha, glad you liked that—I got it from my Mom, actually, as she's the one who says it (where does it pop up in Abridged?). Yes, get going boys!

Fromtheashtrees, thanks for the review! Yes, I suppose….Good luck with that—if not, I'll hear from you then. :)

FicReader, thanks for the review! Yes, Mitzi's surprisingly good at that—and she definitely is; if you read Mitzi's source material, Lackadaisy Cats, you'll find she's the same way there (I think she's only honestly lost her cool once in the span of the whole comic). In Teana's defense, it's kind of hard to argue with Mitzi—mostly because she makes sense. AAA, NO! And…probably. Unfortunately, I can—my first college (which did a lot to inspire the Administrators) liked to pretend that Halloween didn't exist, to the point that if you wore Halloween-associated colors on that day, you'd get into trouble. :\ And most likely….Hmm, must brainstorm….

References:

Original characters, + setting © Kineil D. Wicks (myself, not the girl in the story)

As promised, the next night saw a knock on her door. This time, however, Teana was ready.

The knocking remained persistent, however; although the fact that it was knocking out a familiar tune told her that it wasn't Mordecai, at least. And, as it wasn't going away anytime soon, she resigned herself to tugging her nightstand away from the door, unlocking it, and opening it.

She was greeted by a young man with untidy brown hair and a blue zoot suit—and a wide grin and notable eyebrows. Rapscallion leapt to her mind, although she wasn't sure why.

"Hi!" the man greeted. "Miss M sent me over here—"

"Let me guess: you must be Rocky," Teana interrupted.

"Yes ma'am! I'm here to escort you to the Lackadaisy Revue—you know, in case of rapacious ransacking rapscallions or malevolent marauding malcontents. That sort of thing."

So apparently her first instinct was pretty on the dot and there was a reason that odd word had jumped into her mind. "Wow, sounds dangerous. Maybe I should stay here then."

"Don't worry, you have me," Rocky said, holding up a violin case. "And my little friend."

"If that's the case, I'm definitely staying in."

"No no no—you'll disappoint Miss M, and we don't want Miss M disappointed. There will be wailing and gnashing of teeth!"

"I don't think it'll be that bad."

"It will be—because then she'll be disappointed in me, and I can't handle that. I'd have to drown myself in the Thesdell, or—or toss myself into the Ravine! Or procure some quality stuff for the Revue—that last one might be more productive, come to think of it…."

"It might. And you're making a scene there on the floor."

"I am? Oh." Rocky popped back up. "So you're coming, right?"

"Uh, no," Teana said, closing the door and then locking it for good measure.

"It's okay! Miss M said this might happen!" Rocky said, voice pitched to carry through the door. "Don't worry! I'll be here all night!"

"That's what concerns me," Teana muttered.

And then she heard plucking, and then the sound of a bow being drawn across a violin.

"My ghostly danseuse, you're truly a delight," she heard Rocky sing. "You glide across the dance floor as though it were made of ice. Your soul's a burning flame that flickers in the night, your dancing little spirit provides a lovely light. Your every move and measure is grace beyond compare; the Philistine masses cannot help but stop and stare. Your glance is but a vision, your breath is but a song, I must get up and after, I have to dance along. But a dance with you my darling, is but a brief and fleeting time; so engrave this on my tombstone, this my danseur's rhyme."

Teana had opened the door and was watching him in spite of herself. When he finished: "That's very nice."

"Thank you! I made it up on the spot!" Rocky said, beaming before switching over to consternated. "Actually, I need to write that down…hold this," he said suddenly, shoving the violin and bow at her. She took the instrument, watched as he dug in his pockets for a pencil and notepad and frantically started scribbling. "Don't talk to me right now, I have to remember what I said."

Teana nodded and waited until he finished and looked over the notepad again, scratching the side of his face with the eraser as he considered what he wrote.

"Well, it's a little rough, but I'm sure I could get it going pretty well. Ghost dancers," he muttered, writing something else before pocketing it. "Okay, I'll take my little friend back now."

"So there actually was a violin in that case," Teana observed, handing it back to him.

"Yeah," he said, putting it away. "If you were expecting a gun, that's more my cousin's forte. Although to be honest, he looks like he ought to be the one playing violin; that's what makes it a good sell," he added, standing back up. "So! Are you ready to go?"

"Go?"

"To the Revue. Remember, the thing with Miss M, about you dancing?"

"I'm still not feeling it."

"Then maybe I ought to compose an inspiring poem for you. Hold on a minute…."

"Let me get my shoes," Teana sighed.

*/*\*

Kels climbed into the tree stand, careful not to jostle the shotgun as she did so.

Her birds were put up, but she had spotted tracks near the fence, the distinctive five-fingered paw that belonged to what was collectively known as varmints. Spreading hair from humans and dogs hadn't worked—it was time for drastic measures.

Granted, it would be a mite lonely without her father to talk to, but he wouldn't be in for another fifteen minutes or so, and she needed to be out now, when it was twilight and the varmints were waking up. Although to be honest, the time it was getting dark now was the only indication that it was September and not high summer—man, it was hot.

She tugged at the collar of her shirt and tried not to think about what the old-timers said unseasonably hot weather signified—Chaos Weather. The Chaos had disappeared because the climes became too cool for them, some theorized—warmer weather meant the Chaos were coming back.

She shoved that from her mind, and squashed the wish that she had brought a book to read. Reading a book meant she might miss something sneaking through the underbrush, and she didn't want that.

She checked her pocket watch—ten minutes until she had company.

Unfortunately, the relative quiet meant she had plenty of time to reflect on what Yami had said earlier. Related to Skellington, she mused as the cicadas and frogs sang. That…wasn't good. She tried to reflect on what she had heard previously about Skellington, found that she came up woefully short—no one ever talked about him, except in frightened, hushed tones. Skellington was a literal spook, a boogieman cooked up to scare the little kids and show that the Administrators weren't to be questioned.

She managed to smother her scoff in time—the Administrators. Right. The same ones who regulated everything and took away books and held Yami back a year.

She wondered if they knew.

She barely suppressed her sigh as she scanned the brush for furry interlopers. It was starting to get dark, truly dark, but the air wasn't getting any cooler—it just laid like a hot scratchy blanket on the ground. She'd fight a cougar cat for a breeze—no, scratch that, she didn't want to see a cougar cat around here; she wasn't confident in her ability to kill it if it came after her or her birds.

She focused on breathing as she scanned the brush again, checked her watch—seven minutes until she had company. Was her watch dead or something? No, no, there went the second hand, and at its usual pace.

She chalked it up to too much going on at the moment. Things were going sideways, she could sense it—she just couldn't quite see how.

Man, it was getting dark—she hated the forest at night, ever since Jonouchi and Honda had bought that horror anthology book from Blake's consignment shop. The one about the Screechers alone had left her sleepless for months, and scared stiff whenever she had to put her birds up—her parents had had to accompany her for about the same amount of time she had lacked sleep—

She jerked her head up—something was moving out there. Something human sized.

Probably Dad coming finally, she thought—except her throat caught and she was suddenly unable to breathe. No. She was just scaring herself—all those thoughts about Screechers and boogie-mages and Chaos Creatures had just wound her up. Put the gun down before you shoot your own father, and let him know you're up here.

Except…no.

It occurred to her what was wrong—the frogs and cicadas had stopped, for one. Her Dad would have called out, for another.

And whatever that was out there, it was walking too soft, light, and cautious to be her father.

She very, very carefully pulled the bolt back on the shotgun. Jonouchi and Honda had been a little disappointed when she had showed it to them, having expected the type that cracked open or were pump-action—but bolt action was quite useful, especially when preparing to shoot something without letting it know you were about to shoot it.

She shouldered the gun, sighted down it, kept her ears trained—somewhere off her eleven there….

It stopped.

So did her heart.

She knew whatever it was had spotted her.

It took her eyes a few moments to adjust to the growing gloom, but she could very clearly see a tall humanoid figure—her heart stuttered as her mind went over all the horrors she had been reflecting on.

But…no….It was just some tall lanky guy in a straw hat and backpack.

With spiky hair and yellow irises that were visible in the dark.

Hot weather—Chaos Weather.

Or worse.

But suddenly the guy bolted, turning tail and running away through the brush and away from her. She breathed a temporary sigh of relief—that had not been fun.

And now she'd be needing an escort to her birds again.

"Ho!"

She glanced away from where the guy had disappeared to see her father coming up the way, lantern in one hand, small basket in the other, and a shotgun slung on his elbow.

Kels struck her chest a few times to get her heart to restart—oh man….

Had that just happened?

"Hey," she said, knocking the rope ladder down so he could climb up—he handed her his gun butt first; she set it next to hers before reaching down for the lantern. "Took you long enough—it was creepy out here by myself."

"Sorry," her dad said, climbing up. "Al at the hardware store wanted to talk."

"You should have told him you had left your daughter up a tree."

"I told them we were dealing with varmints," her dad said, reaching the platform and sitting down. She waited until he was comfortable before handing his gun to him. "I got a lot of suggestions on how best to deal with them."

"Any of them good?"

Her father checked his gun to make sure it was loaded. "None like this."

She nodded, settled back against the tree before flipping the basket open; a thermos of what she hoped was lemonade or tea, something cold please, and a couple of sandwiches.

She caught a flash of a blue light out of the corner of her eye, looked up sharply, looked around—

A light, cool breeze ruffled her bangs—ah, finally.

"Storm's coming," her father said.

Somehow, that simple statement worried her to no end.