Chapter 14: Me and My Old Lady
S'all good, and we ain't gonna change, yeah, the world is unaware! So if you want, go on and stare, 'cause we don't care!
She ain't no ball and chain, she ain't no ball and chain...
The journey to Amity's house encountered one more delay, in the form of a clearly inebriated stoat stumbling around in the streets and harassing other beasts. The batfolk peacekeeping force had already arrived on the scene and were attempting, with little effect, to defuse the situation nonviolently; the stoat continued to slosh around his tankard and yell obscene catcalls at just about everybeast in sight.
Amity quickly presented an alternative solution, when she charged in, ducking around the playful swipes of the drunkard, grabbed the tankard out of his paws as she quickly scaled his chest, and brought it down on the back of his neck. He slumped forward, falling into the waiting paws of a batling that had taken position behind Amity. "We'll take it from here," the peacekeeper said. Amity nodded and resumed the trek to her house, whistling an upbeat tune as she went.
Smack kept a wary eye on Amity for the rest of the journey.
Finally, they reached a cozy little cabin on the east coast of the isle. The outside was painted a clean white, with rosy pink trim. A wide variety of candles, pendants, and framed doilies - which Smack eventually recognized as dream-catchers - were strewn all over the porch. A little plaque had been hung on the door; "Bless This Mess," it read, though somebeast had covered up 'Bless' with the word 'Clean' in bright red letters; the glossy texture betrayed how recently it had been painted. "Been waiting for that one," Amity muttered. "I'll have to wash it off before it sets too much."
Smack gave her a funny look behind her back. Waiting? What did she mean by that?
He got his answer almost immediately upon entering the house, but we'll wait on that until after we've described everything else he saw. The inside was every bit as quaint, and every bit as crowded, as the outside. The immediate room had two distinct areas in it: a kitchen and dining area to the left, and a parlor to the right. A kettle boiled over the fireplace in the far wall of the parlor, its lid closed tight to prevent steam from escaping. Nearby sat two cushioned chairs, arranged around a tea table covered in paints and brushes. On the left stood a dining table, with the kitchen extending back into the wall. He could just see the first step of a staircase to the second floor, starting in the kitchen and running behind the back wall of the parlor.
But the most noticeable detail was the paintings. Every wall had been covered in artwork, depicting all manner of landscapes, architecture, and, most prominently, beasts. A few themes in particular appeared in multiple pieces: a hedgehog with a dangerously pale complexion, a mouse with piercing golden eyes that Smack recognized as Martin from his dreams, foreign suits of armor, strange black-and-yellow beasts that seemed exclusively four-legged, and…
"Is that… me?" Smack declared incredulously.
Amity nodded. "Yeah, and there's a very good reason why we have twenty paintings of you in our house, but I'll let Jack explain that at dinner."
"Jack?" Smack parroted.
"Jack!" Amity yelled up the stairs. "We've got company!"
As the crash of falling objects sounded in the upstairs rooms, followed by hurried pawsteps, Smack glanced around the room again, and noticed a small canvas in the corner, with a perfect likeness of the vandalized sign on the door. A mild layer of dust had collected on it, which could only mean…
The paint was dry.
He turned back to Amity, just in time to see a remarkably pretty mousemaid throw herself into her arms. They embraced each other in a passionate kiss, which lasted for quite some time. "Oh, I've missed you so!" the mousemaid said as it finally ended.
Amity hugged her tightly. "I missed you too, hon," she said, before giving her another quick peck on the lips.
The mousemaid smiled sweetly, then looked over Amity's shoulder at Smack. "So, is this the beast you spent last night away from home with?"
"I did throw a tankard at him; the least I could do was stick around and make sure he wasn't too badly injured."
"Oh dear, yes, Myriad's note mentioned that. So, is he here for a consolation dinner?"
"Actually, he's staying the night."
"Oh! Would the inn not take him?"
"From what he's said, he's settling down here; inn only takes visitors."
"Oh! Well, then I'd best get started on dinner!" The mousemaid turned to Smack and extended a paw. "My name is Jacqueline Rosaline Evergreen; pleased to meet you!"
Smack accepted the paw. Jacqueline simply held it, instead of shaking. "Uh, I'm Smack," he offered.
She clasped his paw in both of hers and smiled warmly. Then she let go and bustled off to the fireplace. She removed the boiling kettle and hurried off to the kitchen with it. "I'll start the tea brewing. Amity, love, would you set the table?"
"Of course, hon." Amity opened a cupboard and pulled out a clean tablecloth. "What are we having?"
Jacqueline wrapped a mix of herbs and spices in a cheesecloth, tied it off, and dropped it in the kettle. "I'm planning on making a salad; I spent a bit too long painting this afternoon, and didn't start anything earlier."
Amity tossed the tablecloth over the table and smoothed out the wrinkles. She stepped around the counter of the kitchen and pulled a few sets of cutlery from a drawer. "Sounds delicious, luv. Of course, everything you make is delicious, so that's to be expected."
"Oh, you old flatterer!" Jacqueline pulled a bowl out from behind the counter and set it in her work area. She was stopped by Amity putting an arm over her shoulder and kissing her on the cheek.
"You know I am, luv." They kissed once more, then returned to the dinner preparations.
Smack stood awkwardly in the middle of the scene, paws folded in front of him, and watched the interaction in silence. The couple were the same species, but beyond that they were as different as night and day. Amity, in contrast with her name, was hot-headed and rough-hewn, a raw beast with a fiery personality. Jacqueline, on the other paw, was soft-spoken and cheerful, a peaceful creature who probably would never harm another beast intentionally. And yet, despite being nearly opposites, they clearly loved each other deeply.
Amity was now arranging plates on the table; the cutlery had already been set out for three beasts. "Smack, why don't you sit down?" she prompted.
Smack nodded and took a seat. Amity joined him, while Jacqueline continued bustling around the kitchen and tossing ingredients into the salad bowl. Finally, she tossed it a few times with a pair of tongs, and carried it over to the table. She sat down in her seat and began doling out servings to everybeast.
Smack looked at the salad with curiosity, and then concern. "Um, is that… meat?"
Amity was the first to respond. "Yeah, they're from a breed of flightless birds raised 'round the north side of the island. They're incapable of higher thought processes, so no moral dilemmas to worry about."
"Oh, and they have the funniest name, too!" Jacqueline chimed in. "They're called… 'chickens'!" She shook with a petite giggling fit. "Isn't that just the funniest name?"
"Yeah, but I guess any name could be funny if you say it right," Smack countered. "Like this: Fa-awks!" He pulled a silly face as he said this, making Jacqueline continue giggling. "Ma-awse! Oddurrrr! Shroo-ooo! Heedge-hawg! Ssstote! Weezel!" With every distorted name, Jacqueline's giggling fit only increased; even Amity chuckled a few times. Finally, he ran out of ideas, and the laughter died down. "I will admit, though, it's pretty hard to say 'chicken' in a way that isn't funny, but even then they have to compete with squirrels."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, 'sqwerlz'." He held his paws out in a 'you see?' sort of gesture. Jacqueline began laughing again. "And when you try t' say it the way it's spelled, it's 'squirr-relle'!"
This time, Smack finally joined in laughing at his own jokes. The joyful racket carried on for quite some time, until it slowly died away into the muffled sounds of chewing. Finally, Smack spoke up again. "So, erm, was meaning to ask: What's with all the paintings?"
Jacqueline's eyes lit up. "Oh! Amity, you naughty girl, you didn't tell him?"
"Figured I'd save the explanation for you; it's your gift, after all."
"Gift?" Smack repeated questioningly.
"Why yes, it's my special talent!" Jacqueline cleared her throat lightly. "I am, as some would call it, a Seer. I have visions of the future that, while often preventable, are quite likely to happen. But, no matter how large or small, they always come to me in my paints; I can't even see these 'visions' until my paw draws them!"
"Okay…" The strangest part, in Smack's mind, was that after everything that had happened in the last week he actually believed her quite readily. He'd been raised to not trust anybeast that called itself a Seer, but after crossing in less than a day a body of water that had taken his former crew months by ship, listening to the concert of the batfolk, and practicing foreign martial arts with an entirely too friendly rat, he had very little drive to be skeptical.
"Now, as for why there are so many, I simply can't get rid of them! Sometimes they're quite intriguing, and they're always very well-made, but very frequently their significance is too deeply hidden. I mean, it's all well and good to have a painting of yourself, especially a psychic prediction of your future, but if it's simply a vision of you eating a fruitcake, why would you want something like that hanging in your parlor?"
Smack snorted out a small laugh; he knew quite a few families in the far North that would be enthralled by exactly that kind of painting.
"Not to mention the fact that I still have no idea what those black-and-yellow beasties are, or who the mouse is - although I know who you are, now!"
"Yeah, and that's another question: why am I in so many of them?"
Jacqueline didn't answer immediately; she looked around the room, searching for something invisible. Finally, she found the words she wanted. "I don't know. My painting are merely portraits of the future, slices of time from the most probable timeline. The only thing I know is that they're always significant in one way or another, though they're not always significant in the grand scheme of things. All I can really say is, if you're in a lot of them, then you must play a large role in the future."
"Great." Smack leaned back into his chair and exhaled. "Always wanted to change the world." He pushed his now empty plate toward the center of the table.
"Yes, well. You might want to head upstairs and get some sleep now. But first…" Jacqueline hopped out of her chair, ran off into the parlor area, and pulled a canvas out of one of the many stacks of them. She dashed back to the table, sat down again, and held up the canvas for Smack to see. "Ta-da!"
Two mice and a fox sat around a table. In the center sat a bowl of mixed greens. The mouse in the back was holding up a canvas, showing a duplicate of the overall painting on its surface. The fox, in the foreground, was staring at it with a shocked expression just visible on the side of its muzzle.
Smack stared at the painting with an expression nearly identical to that of the painted fox. If there was any doubt in his mind before, it had now vanished; the rest of the scene could have been set up, but the clothes he wore in the picture were identical to what he had on now, and the burn wounds visible on the back of his head… He reached back and felt behind his ear; yep, there was a bald patch right there. He'd only showed up the day before; there was no way that painting could have been made, dried, and collected dust in that time frame. And even if it had, the countless other immensely detailed portraits of him would have only taken longer. "You really are a Seer," he whispered.
"Ayup! Maybe that's the significance of this painting: it's the moment when you truly believed me!" She set down the painting on the floor, leaned against her chair. Then she hopped up again and grabbed the serving bowl off the table. "Amity, love, could you show him to the guest room?"
Amity slid out of her seat. "Sure thing, hon. Come on, Smack, let's get you settled in." She took him by the paw and led him upstairs.
The guest room was a tidy affair; though there were still several canvases inside, they were carefully stacked in the corners or hung neatly on the walls. The bed was freshly made, as of about a week prior; a slight trace of dust had settled on it since then. A small nightstand stood next to the head, with an oil lamp upon it. Aside from that, the only other item in the room was a wardrobe set against the wall. "It's not much," Amity said, "but it should suit you for the time being."
Smack found himself crying just a bit. "It's perfect."
"Oh. Well… I guess you just enjoy your sleep, then." She turned around to leave.
"Wait." Smack knelt down, pulled Amity in by the shoulder, and embraced her in a warm hug. "I can't thank you enough for how kind you've been to me."
Amity looked down at the fox, momentarily surprised, then reciprocated the gesture. "Don't mention it. Guards are s'posed to help."
A knock sounded downstairs, and the two broke apart. "You get some sleep now, kid," Amity said. She exited the room to see to whoever had come knocking. Smack saw little reason to do anything else but follow her advice, so he opened the wardrobe in search of nightclothes. Unfortunately, though he should have expected it in a guest room, there were none to be found for a beast his size, so he settled for his birthday suit and hung the clean garments he'd been given the morning before on a wire hanger for him to use again tomorrow. He considered hanging the hat up inside the wardrobe as well, but decided to keep it closer at paw for the time being. It was, after all, a very nice hat, if a bit strange.
It also might not have fit inside the compact wardrobe. He set it on the nightstand, taking care to keep it away from the oil lamp. He didn't want his possessions to burn up in the night again; he was one of the few beasts to have experienced such a misfortune more than once in the past. Then again, at least one of those times the rest of the mansion was burning too.
He sat down on the bed and eased himself under the covers. For the first time in a while, his body wasn't nearly weary enough to send him to sleep immediately, and his consciousness slowly faded to the sounds of conversation downstairs.
Who was that, hon?
Oh, just one of the couriers with a note for you; here.
Hmm… says Taldor sprained his ankle pretty badly this afternoon; he can't make the night patrol.
Oh my! Is there anybeast available to replace him?
Not according to the letter. Sounds like I'll have to fill in for him.
Oh, and we had plans for tonight.
Yeah, but 'duty calls', and all that. Sorry, guess our experiment will have to wait.
Oh, that's okay. We'll just have to make up for lost time later.
Luv ya, Jackie.
I love you too, Amity. Take care out there.
Will do. The door opened again, then shut shortly thereafter. Smack had just reached the edge of his consciousness, and was beginning to tip over the edge into the realm of nightmare.
Oh my, it seems I've now got to tell you about two nightmares, haven't I? As it turns out, though, it's a bit more complicated than that…
I'm going to try to stop these author's notes from next chapter onward. Please leave a review if you've made it this far, and feel free to PM me if anything seems conspicuously inconsistent - it may just be intentional.
Credit to The Offspring (again) for the song title.