Usually, Gill treated work as a sort of reprieve. A calm, methodical, respite of paper shuffling, number-crunching and an occasional bout of politics.
There were exceptions, of course. The most prominent being festivals.
Gill hated festivals. From a planning prospective, they were a nightmare. Festivals demanded time to prepare and money; neither of which Gill liked to part with. His time could better be spent elsewhere and the pecuniary aspect made his head hurt.
Waffle Town was an economic nightmare. Trade was limited to what could be shipped by boat to the nearest towns and cities. As most of Waffle Towns exports were agricultural, cheaper surplus goods from other towns were a constant issue.
Balancing the books was always troublesome and left Gill exhausted.
The Ocean Festival was by far the worst. The vendor stalls on the beach required time to set up, as did the beach decorations and the fireworks not only required certified operators, but they also needed to meet safety standards on top of the cost of actually purchasing the pyrotechnics.
In fact, there was only one week left until the Ocean Festival deadline and unsurprisingly, his father had not even begun the preparations. Gill should have expected this, it was almost a yearly ritual. His father would insist that he was indeed making preparations for the festival and not to worry, when he had actually done little or nothing. Luckily, such antics were unique to the Ocean Festival, for some odd reason.
It all amounted to a lot of paper work. Paper work that had managed to find its way to his desk around noon and he had been working frantically to complete for the past two hours.
Once, in another life, he used to love the fireworks. Back when he didn't know how much work they were and could simply enjoy the bright colours and patterns they traced in the sky. He used to watch them with his father and his late mother too when he was little more than a toddler.
Such events were significantly less enjoyable without a family to watch them with. For the past few years Hamilton had implied that he should find a nice girl to watch them with, and on top of all this work, it was frankly the last thing on his mind.
Gill's hand was cramping up from the frenzied pace of his writing. Pausing briefly to stretch and massage his wrist, he realized that on top of everything his side still ached.
Damn it, Angela.
"We want no condescending saviors! To rule us from their judgment hall! We workers ask not for their favors!" an obnoxious voice reverbated throughout the town hall.
"The Internationale? Really, Angela." Gill heard Elli lecture from across the room.
"I thought it was fitting." Angela said with a smirk, causing Elli to sigh in exasperation.
Gill looked up from his papers and ran a hand through his hair in frustration, catching Angela as she peered around the corner. What was it this time? He was busy and didn't want to be disturbed.
"Angela, go-"
"He's not heeeere." She looked disappointed and retreated back around the corner and out the large town hall doors before Gill could even finish voicing a concern.
"My, that was certainly something. Do you have any idea what that was about?" Elli asked, her face contorted into a look of what appeared to be concentration.
"None, Elli. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
By five o'clock, Gill had actually succeeded in finishing the majority of the Ocean Festival preparations; an amazing feat considering the circumstances. His sanity could have taken a lighter blow, but now that was just being nitpicky.
Needless to say, for the first time in months, he actually managed to saunter out of the town hall at closing time instead of staying an extra few hours. The sun was even out and given the time of year, Gill would probably even have three or more hours of sunlight to enjoy. Not that he usually particularly enjoyed it being prone to heat exhaustion; tonight was an odd exception.
Tonight, books in hand, he was content to make his way home early and begin researching a certain piece of Waffle Town history. Perhaps the archaic words and references would actually make sense this time. Glancing toward the rainbow mere meters away, he began to trudge across the cobblestones, making a click with every foot fall.
The mayor's son only managed to make a few calculated steps before something small and yellow caught the corner of his eye.
"Impossible." Gill muttered, jerking his head to the side and finding nothing in particular.
Walking briskly up the solitary tree, he noted with some surprise the tiny indents in the dirt around an obnoxious yellow flower growing in the shadow of the tree. Shifting his head to survey the area, he couldn't see any further indications that anything was amiss. With a groan, Gill retreated back to the square's stairs.
He had only gotten about half way there when he didn't see something, but rather felt something. This feeling was somewhat irritating, like hearing a room buzz with white noise, however it pulled on an entirely different level of his subconscious.
The entire situation was illogical.
Gill soon found himself wandering not in the direction of home, but in the direction of Mt. Gelato; and within the hour, he managed to find himself in a frighteningly familiar place.
In stark comparison to its former glory, all that remained of the Mother Tree was rotting wood. The gigantic base was hollow and surrounding branches were in the later stages of decomposition. This was the product of human waste, arrogance and progress.
It was disgustingly fascinating.
It was also entirely preventable.
Gill always strived to force Waffle Town from it's archaic ways and force modernization; most recently, it was the cutting of the root blocking Ganache Mine District from the Caramel River area. It made travel easier and the transport of supplies to Waffle Town faster. Surely the Harvest Goddess understood the implications for the island?
The movement of shrubbery forcibly pulled Gill from his thoughts. Another animal perhaps?
Actually, given the odd mumbling and what he presumed to be a trip coming from the distance, an animal was highly unlikely.
It just had to be Angela again. He did seem to have a penchant for finding her lately. Of course, given the mumbling, it could also have been his father, but that would mean the stout little man had actually walked beyond Maple Lake District and that was a feat that was clearly impossible.
"...Oh, so you've started coming here." The odd mumbly creature, presumably Angela, managed to catch sight of him a fair distance away.
Gill's side decided this was a perfect opportunity to protest and promptly did so; causing Gill to instinctively move his hand over it.
"Haven't you got somewhere to be?"
"Not today, actually. So I'll do my best not to rough you up again. It must have been terribly embarrassing."
What was the farmer's malfunction? A few days ago, she didn't even want to speak to him and now she going out of her way to mock him? It was one of the few things Gill couldn't comprehend.
When Angela finally made her way closer (but still a suitably safe distance away from him), Gill noticed she wasn't actually looking at him, but rather at something unnervingly close to him.
"...Hey, can you see them?" Angela traced an odd pattern around him, as if she was following something.
She couldn't possibly mean they were still around. It had to be something else.
"See what?" Gill asked, he had to be completely certain of what exactly she was implying.
Angela laughed and dropped her hand to her side. "Idiot. The Harvest Sprite." she said, rather pleased with herself.
"...I used to see them when I was a kid. They begged me to help the Mother Tree, but I was just too young and eventually they disappeared." The damage was already done, Gill figured there wasn't any point in hiding it from her.
Angela made a non-committal noise, but was otherwise non-responsive.
As Gill had learned previously, there was little use in confronting her and there was a laudable amount of damage she could inflict on him here. Collecting himself as gracefully as possible, Gill turned and left Angela and the rotted remains of what was once Mother Tree.
Gill did not arrive home until well past ten. Apparently, it took much longer for him to find his way out of the mess than it did for him to waltz his way into it.
"How absurd." Gill muttered as he fumbled to open the door quietly and balance his books at the same time.
Finally, after a fair amount of struggle, Gill accomplished opening the door. Carefully, so as not to wake his father, he closed the door and attempted to turn on a light. Unfortunately, he forgot about his books and ungracefully caused them to dump all over the floor; which, quite obviously, was counterproductive.
"Gill? Are you finally home, my boy?" Gill could hear the shuddering of the steps as Mayor Hamilton toddled down them in his nightwear.
"...I should think that would be obvious by now, father." Gill snapped and attempted to rescue his precious books from their resting place on the floor.
"My! Do you know how late it is? When I came looking for you earlier, Elli said you left ages ago! Now, now, no need to explain it to me! You must have been out and with a nice young lady I presume! Am I right? Yes, yes, of course! It's written all over your face!" Hamilton looked delighted, the stout man seemed to take pleasure in events such as this where he expected Gill to share some deep secret with him.
"That's hardly the case." Gill scowled. He was tired and in no mood to deal with Hamilton's assumptions.
"Oh, now, now! It's nothing to be embarrassed about, I am your father after all! We can discuss these things now, can't we? And it's simply fabulous that you finally opened up enough to--"
"Good night, father."