33. Twisting Nectarine and Juniper

Fantasies and Fairy Tales

Noah was not one for bright, cheery days, however, when it came to the bustling of a city, he was even less amused.

A bird flew overhead, slipping a few high notes into the air as it landed in a nearby tree where it continued its melody. The city it sang to was bustling with people. The streets were lined with vendors selling varieties of odds and ends and fruit carts loaded with exotic produce. Small children played in the narrow streets, darting through the crowds while chasing one another. Only one with a keen eye would catch the way a child would stumble, grab onto a stranger for support and skip away, eyes innocent and fingers clenching a wallet.

Noah smirked, watching a small boy sneak a few coins from a gentleman a few paces before him. The kid was gone in a flash, edging around a vendor piled high with books before disappearing into a back alley. Noah eyed the cart of leather volumes and tomes before striding over. Originally, he'd gone to the city to search for extra parts for his newest magic tool. The thing wasn't running properly and continued to malfunction, sparking when he least expected it and spasming uncontrollably.

Noah stopped before the collection of books, scanning the titles with little interest. Upon noticing the cart, he'd assumed at least a few of the books would be magical tomes or documents of inner workings and clockwork. Unfortunately, they were piles upon piles of fantasies and fairy tales, cute little fables for innocent hearts.

Noah resisted the urge to curl his lip in disgust and settled for a disappointed sigh.

"Can't find what you're looking for?"

Noah turned, expecting to see the owner of the books, but the woman standing beside him appeared to be a customer as well. Her stare was gold and pierced through him like an icy shard, looking him up and down with an amused smirk. A black hood was pulled long, golden hair that twisted over her shoulders and connected in a thick strand against her chest. Her limber arms held a thick book which she closed and returned to the piles, allowing Noah to see the snakes tattooed on either arm.

"You look like a man in search of something specific," the woman murmured again, sliding a long nail against the leather covers before them.

"I wasn't expecting books for children," Noah admitted, lifting the cover of a smaller volume and peering at the bright picture on the front page in irritation. "I was hoping for something helpful."

"Books are always helpful, no matter the story," the woman interjected, grabbing another book and opening it to the middle. "You can find anything you're looking for."

"Children can find anything they're looking for," Noah corrected. "They can see the smiles and immediately connect the story to a fuzzy memory. If the characters face hardships, children know a hero will save them because every fable has its hero." Noah gave his companion a wry smile, shrugging tiredly. "Adults know that's not the case. Heroes aren't in every single story."

The woman beside him matched his smile, flipping another page in her book. "Do you speak on the side of a never winning protagonist or an impressive foe with nothing to stop them?"

Noah met the question with an unwavering stare, flipping a few answers through his mind before replying calmly, "You seem to be the type of woman who triumphs over the heroes."

"A bold accusation." The woman chuckled deep in her throat, eyes sliding along the columns of stories. "And would you believe I use fairy tales to obtain what I want?"

Noah gave it some thought and tilted his head to the side. "I'm sure you have your way of dissecting key points in stories to learn from them," he responded. "For instance, you're in the market for an amusing tale that will give you insight on a scheme you've been planning for awhile now."

The woman laughed at that and shook her head. "Nice guess, but I'm actually here for an exceedingly mundane reason." She slid a thin hardcover out from between two thicker ones. "I'm here for my child. I'm getting a present."

Noah raised an eyebrow. "So your child will read the story as it is, a friendly journey of laughter and innocence, while you weave in your own dark twist to use as you will?"

"That could be the case, couldn't it?" She discarded yet another book and turned to him, smile gone but her eyes still held grim delight. "However, my child doesn't believe in heroes. My child only knows stories depicting struggle and defeat of the good while the strong live on. What's so fuzzy about that?"

Noah swallowed. "Your child doesn't live in the illusion of a happy tale? You let them see it your own way?"

"Nonsense." The woman crossed her arms. "I simply don't give her happy stories. I let her read each dark one as it is, without hope or love. That's how I find what I'm looking for. I need a strong child, merciless and stripped of any weaknesses." Seeing Noah's look of mild alarm, she inquired, "Do you not have your own children?"

Noah looked back on the reason he was in town to begin with, scowling at the thought of the corrupt mechanics never piecing themselves together and working. He didn't see the tool as a child, nor did he see himself as a fatherly influence, though when the time came, he may have to watch the treacherous device closely. When the time did fall upon him, he would want his creation strong and unstoppable, that much was certain.

"Not exactly," Noah responded, reaching for a worn hardcover near the far corner of the table. He ran his thumb along the black leather and gently flipped to the first page. "Though I can understand your views on the matter. You'll find what you're looking for in the story by giving the book to your child."

"A well-trained, never hesitating existence who doesn't believe good guys can ever win," the woman agreed, mouth splitting into a cruel smile. "As I said, books are always helpful, no matter the story." She took a step back from the table, countenance switching from gleeful to disappointed. "Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find anything I'm looking for here, so I should be on my way. It was nice to have met a soul who can see things my way."

Before she could depart, Noah glanced at the thin book in his hands and extended it to the woman, earning a curious look in return. Slowly, she accepted it, traveling through the first few pages.

"It may suit your purposes. It looks like a simple story," Noah explained, backing away into the crowd. "Just a simple story about killing people."

When the golden-eyed woman looked up from the drawings of jagged stick figures and splotches of ink, the man was gone.

-/-\-|-/-\-

A/N: I... really don't know what kind of Mother's Day spirit this holds... none really... I just wanted to do one with Medusa. And I hadn't used Noah, so that worked out just fine. Hope you enjoyed.