Hello Dear friends! This is really just for fun... and although the presence of "chapters" denotes that the tale to follow will not be a one-shot, it will not be long either. With that, please enjoy, and expect more in the coming days. -White Rabbit
Chapter One
If Market Day wasn't the busiest day of the cycle in Central City, then it was by far the most chaotic. The wide stone avenues of the market district, which were ordinarily busy with shoppers bustling in and out of the gleaming verdant glass buildings, were even more cramped for the addition of temporary stalls. These islands of commerce dotted a path to the square, increasing in their frequency the closer one drew to where the avenue had been claimed by rows and rows of more booths, making the large square appear as if it might burst from the massive volume of small vendors that appeared here. This collection of booths that sprang up cyclically was called the Ozian Market, and was like a maze, where one could easily get lost among the meandering paths of diverting wares and their mysterious sellers. One could find almost anything here, from cryptic messages from the dead told by oracles in rich velvet, to apples picked from enchanted trees that would stave off one's hunger for hours. This enamored the market to all, and there was no other day on that side of the rainbow when so many different walks of life converged into one location. Somehow, this always happened without any of the various guilds butting heads, and even the munchkins were without a care as they strolled through the crowded thoroughfares.
"This would be a great place to play hide and seek," the young princess quietly marveled as she gawked at the entrance to market.
She'd thought no one had heard her, since Az and Ambrose had already ambled ahead with their escorts, ignoring the brilliant ribbons that coiled around the massive arch and fluttered like charmed snakes in the perpetual breeze as they passed. They were older than her, and frequently dismissed such simple things, finding them trivial where they only sparked five year old DG's imagination more. DG's awestruck face was quickly screwed into a displeased frown at this thought, and her brilliant blue eyes simultaneously flashed from this sight to the retreating forms of her sibling and friend in mild irritation. She'd forgotten about her uncle, who was still standing just behind her, and she nearly jumped out of her patent leather shoes when laughter emitted behind her, sparkling and light-hearted in its sound.
"My dear child," the Mystic Man chuckled kindly as he laid a hand on DG's shoulder. He kneeled down before her and whispered so only she could hear him while his eyes twinkled mischievously, "it would, indeed, be a fantastic place to play such games." He paused to note the impish grin that had formed on her cherubic face, and he laid a finger on her forehead, and tapped it gently while he finished with pointed caution in his voice, "but we mustn't get lost, whatever we do."
DG's face became serious, and she and her uncle nodded in grave unison. "I promise, Uncle, I won't get lost from you, not ever."
The Mystic Man smiled softly, and a hint of sadness was in his eyes for a fraction of a moment before it was gone again, and he sighed dramatically as he rose from his position, taking her hand in his before he spoke again, walking with her as he did, "Oh, my dear Dorothy, we all get lost from time to time. It's the getting unlost that can be the most challenging. Just always remember who you are, and that will be made all the more easy."
The Mystic Man's cryptic advice, he knew, was already lost on his favorite niece. Her attention had waivered yet again, and with such diversions all around, it was a wonder that she'd concentrated on him for as long as she had. As it was, they'd come upon a tinker's stall, where machines of various functionality whirred and spun before their eyes, and DG's hand slipped from his while she craned to get a closer look at some of the offerings on display. While DG's attention was elsewhere, the Mystic Man took the opportunity to withdrawal his pocket watch from his waistcoat. From all outward appearances, one might have thought that within the man's hand was just an ordinary implement to tell the time by, no different from the machinations in that very stall. In flipping the gleaming gold medallion open, however, there could be no doubt that this was much more than a pedestrian timekeeping device. Beyond the ordinary hands that moved with the minutes of the day, there were other, more curious dancers on that small dance floor. Extra hands that were longer and slower seemed to trudge across the face as if they were marching to a dirge, while a final, Technicolor hand seemed to wave across the dials, seeming to mimic fluid waters in the way it undulated and changed color as it moved. Below all of this, the face of the clock appeared as if an intricate landscape study of the OZ, with the suns and moons moving across its horizon in time with the actual heavens it depicted. It was a curious device overall, and it was one that the Mystic Man was never without. If one had actually catalogued the man over the annuals, they would have found him studying that curious face more and more in the last five annuals. They would note that as time marched on, so to would the gravity in the man's expression while he looked upon the dials. At one time, he had not been unlike his small niece; impish and impulsive, letting the wind take him wherever it wanted until he made his parents and sisters sick with worry. Time and experience had made him more cautious, however, and now, his own blue eyes were tinged with a sadness that could not be wiped away. For although he was not born with the ability to manipulate the light the way his sisters had been, Matthew Gale was still just that, a Gale. His abilities, while different from his mother or sisters, were equal in just how rare and profound they were: Matthew could see the very fabric of time. As a child, this fact had been a giddy, exciting prospect, and Matthew used to gladly manipulate events to his benefit. He was reckless, and it had cost him dearly.
Now, older and wiser, that experience had taught him to be respectful of time, and cautious of effecting changes to the delicate tapestry before him. There was no telling what removing one small thread would do to the larger picture, he reminded himself as his eyes flashed upward momentarily to rest on the profile of his niece.
"There's no time," He muttered under his breath, snapping his watch shut with finality while a stony grimace flashed on his bearded face. The Mystic Man sighed as he stowed his watch. They were here for a reason, he reminded himself internally, and despite the fact that he was desperate to give Dorothy and Azkadelia some small semblance of childish joy while he could, he was destined to set certain things into motion; certain things that could not be delayed or avoided, no matter how much he might have wanted to try.
Then, in the midst of the Mystic Man's haze, there was a firm tug on the edge of his coat, and he shook his head slightly as DG implored him with her sweet, soulful voice, "Uncle, I thought we were going to play. Could we? Please?"
DG's voice brought with it the return of the Mystic Man's impishness, and he could not help but to smile wide at his niece's plea. A deep chuckle escaped him as he knelt down on her level, murmuring as his eyes roved behind her to spy her ever-watchful guard, "Of course my girl, but you must promise not to go out of bounds." He paused to watch for DG's silent compliance, continuing only when she nodded silently, "and hide only where you may see me, but I cannot see you."
This clever play on words often did much to confound the ordinary mind, but the Mystic Man often found great delight in DG's inability to be anything but ordinary. The challenge of his riddle was written in his piercing eyes and he maintained a sober expression while he watched the gears work in DG's mind. She did not disappoint, and he held a smile back when her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "But Uncle," she replied skeptically, "you always see where I'll be. That's not fair."
The Mystic Man smirked, and he coughed suggestively in the direction of her guard, and he replied even more softly, "Yes my dear, but he doesn't know that." DG gazed over her shoulder briefly before she returned her dazzling orbs to his, and she returned his smirk in silence.
"Now," he continued in utmost seriousness, his hand now resting on either of her shoulders, "I want you to close your eyes, and picture the first thing that comes to mind when I say, home is where your heart is." He paused to watch DG chew on her lower lip. When she stopped, and her expression became one of serenity, the Mystic Man continued on coaxingly, "Now, don't tell me what you see, my child, because that's all part of the exercise. I want you to find that place, in one of the nearby stalls. Once you find it, stay there until I alone come to find you. Do you understand?"
DG's eyes opened wide until they were the shape of two round blue globes, and she bit her lip to stem the wicked grin that was threatening to overtake her face. She did not speak, and instead nodded her head quickly, while bouncing on the balls of her feet like a spring ready to pop. The Mystic Man's expression was equally naughty as he arose, and he quickly washed the look away as he pulled DG's guard to the side, feigning concern over some innocuous detail of security that had the unfortunate effect of distracting the man from his charge. DG stood stalk still while she watched her uncle hopefully, waiting for the inevitable signal which would act as her proverbial starting gun. The Mystic Man's hand flicked behind his back, and DG held a giggle while she sprang forward and into the bustling crowd just outside the stall. Meanwhile, the Mystic Man peered around his shoulder to spy a flash of pale blue lace zip through the crowd, and he grinned with satisfaction. The gears had been set in motion.
