Chapter 53; Playdate part 1
—Timmy's POV—
Resisting the urge to rush to Wanda's side was agonizing when he caught a glimpse of her through the open door. There she was, still seated in front of the TV they had just been chatting through moments before.
For her, mere hours had passed, but for him, it had been months since they were last together. The memories of their joyful time in the garden, sampling new delicacies, enjoying shows, and reveling in Mardi Gras festivities, seemed like a distant past.
The last memory he had of being with her was a sad one: her coughing up water, and him succumbing to a panic attack in her embrace.
He occasionally feared that she hadn't been returning to the room because he had upset her, and she needed time to calm down. Or maybe that she had wanted a break from him and all the headache and problems he brought into her life.
Yet, every time he received her message, he would chide himself for such silly worries, knowing her loving and kind nature. Despite this, the anxiety would creep back in.
But not anymore.
He had noticed the unmistakable longing in her eyes to rush to his side, and the immense willpower it took for her to stay seated, gripping her chair so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. She wanted to be reunited with him just as badly as he did her, and yet, she hadn't moved toward him, and he had observed the agony this restraint caused her. However, she was too intimidated by the Fey surrounding her, worried that offending them might put him at risk.
He didn't harbor such fears about the Fey, though perhaps he was being naïve. The ones he had encountered appeared kind, truly fun-loving individuals. He could not imagine them becoming dangerous or violent over a small misstep. At the very least, Grandpa Nova didn't strike him as someone who would halt his treatments and let him perish over a slight offense.
Upon seeing Wanda, his first impulse was to rush to her side, regardless of the reactions it could provoke from the Fey. He was sure if he had done so, Nova would have understood that he had meant no ingratitude, that he simply just really missed Wanda. However, his weakness prevented him from standing, let alone running. All he could manage was to lift his hand and offer her a smile, which she reciprocated just before the door shut, taking her out of his view.
It had made him feel sad, and even a little lonely, though he thoroughly was enjoying his time with Grandpa Nova and some of that same sadness and loneliness would be felt when their time spent together ended. Wanda had far greater importance in his heart, but he had also developed a strong affection towards his new grandfather.
In all his life, he never had a real father figure; he did feel guilty about thinking that—because he knew Cosmo tried his best, and he did regard him as family, but…. Cosmo felt more like a playful older brother or an immature, funny uncle.
Cosmo was not good at understanding others' feelings, or helping with problems. He was fun to play with and was skilled at bringing fun and excitement into the everyday but….
That wasn't what he needed now and Cosmo just did not seem to understand that. He was no longer at the age where he could just brush off his problems and worries and forget about them with fun and games. He needed….help. Someone to listen, understand, and who wouldn't judge him. Cosmo hadn't been able to do even one of those things, and sadly he had been made to realize that Cosmo could only ever be a playmate to him…never a father.
A strong, comforting presence that seemed to have all the answers, infinite patience, heroic, good humor, playful, and a reassuring demeanor; that was his ideal father figure and Nova was all of those things.
He hoped that even after their time together was over, that Nova would still come by to visit and take him out on evening walks, make movies with him, take him to see shows, and when he was feeling stronger, play with him at the circus and in the maze. He knew that Wanda had her reservations about him, because of the things he had done to save those kids….
He still did not completely know what he, himself, felt about it; he did not yet know enough about Kinders or Fey-world to know what it meant to be adopted by the Fey or by the forest, but…everyone seemed happy here…., and most importantly, Nova had done what he had felt was the right thing, even at the cost of being forced to reunite with his other half against his will, and being exiled to Fey world and separated from his family. So, in his eyes, Nova was a very heroic person because he sacrificed his own happiness in order to do what he felt would save others.
Nova listened to his worries, his fears and his insecurities and did not even balk when he took one of those annoying crying fits. He would calmly explain things to him, and allow him to understand just what it was he was going through. Wanda was better at comforting him, but Nova was able to tell him *why* he was feeling the way he was. He was able to break things down in a way that helped him understand what was happening to him and it helped him feel not so...broken.
In all this time he had spent with Nova, he had been weak, unable to do anything more strenuous than to sit up. The most physical activity he had gotten was when the Companions and the three baby Appapuffs snuggled with him, or playfully wrestled him—which was basically just Hector using his big, giant fluffy body to knock him over while he was meditating, or trying to, at least.
Not once had Nova appeared annoyed either his mental or physical weakness—he cared for his mind and body with so much care and compassion, that even when he was too weak to do much more than lie around in bed, it was a very fun time. A part of him was a little disappointed that a chunk out of his final day together with Nova was being taken to a play-time with one of the Kinders.
That and he was a little nervous about it too; it was one thing to be a in group…but to be in a one and one interaction….all the other person's attention would be on him, and as much as he would have loved that as a ten year old….to him now, it meant so many more chances to mess up and end up hated.
He used to love being the center of attention…but last Christmas had ruined that for him completely and now….he just wanted to hide away from others…especially from other kids.
Nova gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as the door closed and Wanda, once again, vanished from his sight, then called out a welcoming to the young boy who had been chosen to be his playmate.
He honestly would have wanted Wanda to be the one to come through that door instead, but Nova had insisted on this, though he was nervous. He really wanted to make friends, but he was so tired of having people end up disliking or even hating him….
"Timmy, you've met previously, but allow me to reintroduce, Walter."
"Verily, 'tis a pleasure most great to have this chance for private playtime together." Walter smiled, his large, shiny eyes bright and friendly as he bobbed his head up and down cheerfully. The tiny colorful mushrooms growing out of his hair wobbled. He was one of the kids he had gone to the glade with to look at the deer, the one who spoke in that old time way.
"Yeah, likewise." He responded, though he felt a little unsure. If it was one thing he had confirmed to him beyond all shadow of a doubt was that his peers all hated him; that he was a misfit, a reject unfit to mingle with the crowds and apparently—even his best friends had apparently thought him just an annoyance to be tolerated the entire time he had believed they were friends….
He was certain Walter would come away from this time spent with him, with a dis-favorable impression. No matter how hard he tried, he'd probably do or say something wrong. He'd offend him without meaning to, or be inconsiderate without realizing it. If he tried to say something nice, he'd be misunderstood. If he tried to do something good for him, it would go wrong.
It felt so hopeless, because he knew that every time he tried to make friends, it ended in rejection—followed by mockery. He'd always end up being the one in the wrong, no matter his intentions, no matter what he did, everything he tried felt doomed from the very beginning.
Nevertheless, he was determined to try, as he always did, even if it invariably led to rejection, because he had made a promise to Wanda not to give up….
Nova pulled away to give them some space, and tucked Clara, who was hissing from the desk she was seated on, under his arm and excused himself as he said he'd bring her out into the garden for some quiet time. Two boys being in the room, apparently too much for her to handle. He hoped he'd have better luck getting along with Walter….
Walter hopped onto the bed, sitting beside him with a laugh, the mattress springs responding with a bounce. He half-expected a remark about the room's pink hue; it was curious how at ten, his pink attire drew little attention, but upon entering middle school, it suddenly became a glaring issue. Nonetheless, the color brought him solace; it made him feel happy. Besides, even if he had hated pink instead of loved it, it was the only color his parents would buy for him.
Fortunately, Walter did not appear surprised by the room, nor did he give it a peculiar glance that might suggest he found it strange. He acted as though he had entered a completely ordinary room, natural for a 12 year old boy, and if he believed otherwise, his expression gave nothing away.
The three baby Appapuffs bounded over to Walter, emitting squeaks of curiosity.
"Aw." Walter cooed, stroking Cream under the chin. "Verily, these little creatures are most endearing. I once kept a Fuzzhorn as a companion, a fourth-generation marvel by name of Cappy. Each fortnight, Thistledust doth accompany me to visit his Wisp."
"What do Wisps look like?" He asked curiously.
"Aye, 'tis like a small and dense gathering of sparkling mist, wondrously so. Cappy's mist shineth with a fair blue-gray hue, much like the morn's sky on a crisp autumn day." Walter smiled, closing his eyes, as if envisioning the soul of his dear departed Cappy.
Nova had told him about this; Companions who were once human, like Ginnie, possessed immortality unless they succumbed to grave injury or illness. In death, they released Butterfly/Firefly souls akin to humans and Kinders. On the other hand, Companions who had been born as such weren't immortal, and upon death, they left behind distinct souls known as 'Wisps.' His Grandpa found the subject of death distressing, so he refrained from probing further even though he was curious about it.
Learning that his beloved baby Appapuffs lacked the immortality of Ginnie and the others saddened him, yet the knowledge that they too had souls that would remain forever comforted him. In Fey world, death seemed merely a transformation rather than a final farewell.
A place with no goodbyes felt so wonderful….But, for Nova, who was here all alone, without the family he loved so much, it must have been so lonely….
"Their names are Cream, Cinna and Miele." He introduced the Appapuffs, who bounced about the bed excitedly, as if wanting to make a good impression. He too wanted to make a good impression, but—he did not know how. His mind scrambled for a conversation topic, as it seemed that Walter was ready to move on from talking about the Appapuffs.
"So, um…you liked the Jimmy Neutron stories, best?" He attempted to use the scant information he had about him to come up with something to talk about. It was still bewildering that, because of Mama Cosma's stories written to Nova about his exploits, he had inadvertently become somewhat of a celebrity among the kids here. Nova had even revealed that cartoons had been created from those letters, utilizing the movie-making feature on the television and that the series they were in was always in the top ten most watched charts.
…But…most of those adventures had been about the ten year old him; the person he used to be….the person he would like to be, once more, but did not know how…
Perhaps Walter and all those kids would be as disappointed in him as Cosmo was when they realized just how much he had changed.
"Indeed!" Walter clapped his hands excitedly. "Of the human world, I knew but little ere now, yet to learn there be multitudes of universes? And that a mere child fashioneth such marvels as might only be wrought by magic, with naught but his own two hands? 'Tis a wonder beyond reckoning!"
"Yeah, Jimmy was—er—is, incredible with stuff like that."
Walter caught his slip of the tongue and looked concerned. "Oh, pray, dost thou mean to say... Jimmy is not...?" he gulped. "Surely, he cannot be!"
"Oh, no, he is alive and spry for over sixty. I just slip up sometimes. It's…a little hard to think of that old man as being the same kid I was friends with; it sometimes feels like they are two different people—I guess it's the price of staying ten, whilst he grew up."
"Aye, that doth make sense." Walter nodded, crossing his arms as he deeply considered his words. "I did play with young Bea when she was but a child, and now she standeth as a fair young woman. Oft do I find myself thinking of little Bea and the Bea of now as though they were two separate souls. Mayhap I shall hold such thoughts of Ariafern as well, when the maid doth come into her years."
"Who is Bea?"
"The second youngest of the Fey within the village." Walter laughed, thumping his chest proudly. "Canst thou believe that I am elder yet than some amongst the Fey themselves? 'Tis said that no Kinder, not even those who ascended unto the Angels, hath lived as long as I."
"Wow! How old are you?"
Walter grimaced. Concerned he might have said something offensive, he stammered out an apology, but then the boy simply stuck out his tongue, laughing.
"Such a number it is! Too vast for my tongue to utter. Yet concerning the tales of Jimmy, might I inquire—did the lad never ponder why thou wert untouched by age? From the stories told, it seemeth plain that he might have discerned that time doth not flow differently in thine realms under ordinary circumstances. Did he ne'er marvel at how thy years ceased their march?"
He smiled, lowering his head. "He did wonder. I'm certain he sensed something was up. He waited until Cosmo and Wanda weren't around and started questioning me. I tried to play dumb, but eventually I relented and gave a vague response, telling him that growing up meant losing 'the two things most dear to me.' Jimmy, well, he's always denied believing in magic. To this day, he claims Cosmo and Wanda are just advanced computer programs,—I think it's just his way of being stubborn," he chuckled. "Back then, he said, 'I understand, sometimes no matter how much you cherish a game or toy... as you grow up... you just lose interest, but... there are times when it's better to move on, and let go.' Cindy, who was there chimed in, 'It's up to you to decide the right time to let go though, so don't rush it.' Sheen vowed to never abandon Ultra-lord no matter how old he got, and Carl was adamant about his everlasting affection for llamas and Jimmy's mom."
Walter put a hand to his mouth, stifling a laugh; both Sheen and Carl had kept true to their word—Sheen had literally raised his kids surrounded by Ultra-Lord stuff, and Carl… well, when Jimmy's mom became a widow when her husband passed away at the ripe old age of 87, let's just say…things got really weird, and awkward and last he knew, Jimmy's mom had gotten Jimmy to invent a 'Carl Wheezer' force-field to keep him 20 feet away from her at all times. When he told Walter of this, the other boy laughed for a good while.
"—Well, after that one time, they never brought my lack of aging up to me again." He continued with the story. "Perhaps they pitied me a little…but they were nice enough never to make it obvious." He smiled, a little sadly. "When Jimmy saw I was aging again, he looked really happy."
Jimmy nor the others commented on it; no words sometimes said much more than a hundred and got the message through much clearer.
"…I still go to see them sometimes.…when I told Cindy about all the bullying…she literally came to my world and started yelling at everyone. My classmates and teacher still wonder who that 'strange old lady' was who broke into the school, marched into my classroom and told them all to be ashamed of themselves; but….even though it was embarrassing, it was nice having someone speak up for me."
"That is well, Timmy; aye, that is well indeed." Walter patted his shoulder approvingly. Then maybe feeling like he should change the mood the conversation had taken, Walter's voice turned even more cheerful, and he began to speak about why he loved the Jimmy stories so much. Perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned the bullying. This was supposed to be time for fun, and there he was being depressing….
"When first I heard these tales, I was inspired to craft such marvels myself, yet alas, I knew not where to begin, nor did Thistledust. I sought counsel of Aunty Gizmo, yet her words were as riddles to mine ears. And Bolt, her Kinder, is a braggart of such smugness that I could scarce endure his teachings. Mark me, I do not dislike Bolt; nay, he is well enough, yet his pride doth sour the joy of learning."
"Hehe, yeah, I felt the same way about AJ. He was so smart, and yet he'd show off and gloat all the time, and when you asked him to help you study he acted like you were beneath him and made such smug remarks about every mistake you made." He replied—was this the proper way to relate to someone, or was he just making things about him? He still had flashbacks to his final quarrel with AJ in middle school. AJ was talking about how hard it was fitting in, in a new school that was ruled by cliques, telling him how difficult it was to be an outsider and not part of a clique.
He should have picked up on the hints that AJ was gently suggesting their friendship was no longer necessary or desired. Instead, he mistook his friend's words as simple venting and carelessly babbled about his own struggle to find a fitting clique, wondering aloud whether to join the 'Kids with unique facial features' group or the 'kids who need braces' club. He laughed and joked about the absurd variety of cliques at their school, including one for kids who spoke only in pig Latin, asserting they didn't need to follow such silliness since they had their own circle of friends. That was until AJ, in a burst of anger, told him, 'not everything is about you, Timmy!' The following day, AJ announced he was done feeling out of place because of him and decided to join the smart kids' clique.
Ever since then, he had been afraid that he was saying the wrong thing every time he spoke and that one wrong comment would ruin everything.
Apparently, he hadn't messed up this time, for Walter grinned and wrinkled up his nose. "Aye, I know well that manner of his—the way Bolt doth make such a spectacle of simplifying matters, as though he were bestowing wisdom upon dullards. By my troth, it doth fairly set my mushrooms to steaming!"
"Are those actually part of you, or do they come off, or—?" He found himself asking, looking at the mushrooms growing out of his tangle of moss-brown hair curiously and then flushing as he realized what he had thoughtlessly said. "S-sorry, I shouldn't…"
Walter laughed, not an awkward laugh but one that erupted from deep inside of him, as if it had been being held in for a long, long time. "Ever have I been curious as to what questions a mortal might pose, were they to behold me. I recall not my days as a human, though born of that kind I was, yet I wot well that mine appearance now must seem passing strange unto thee. And not mine alone, but that of all the Kinders, I warrant."
"Oh no, not strange, I—" He fumbled awkwardly.
"'Twas a thought that crossed my mind," Walter confessed." I have beheld each and every Kinder as they arrived here in their mortal guise, and again after they were remade as Kinders... they do change so greatly, dost thou not think? Take Edmund, forsooth. When first he came, he was a sad thing, naught but skin and bone, yet now he is grown into such a plump, merry little creature! And Lilybeth—ah, she is as cute as a button now, yet when first she arrived..." Walter put both hands over his mouth and shook his head. "Nay, 'twould be unseemly to speak further. I am, after all, a little gentleman."
"Why do Kinders have their looks changed? Is it just for fashion, or something?" He asked, curiously.
"When a human doth partake of the Fey fruit, they are suffused with the very energy of the world. Should a Fey-Parent fail to choose a form for their newly fashioned Kinder, the world itself shall, in its own time, begin to shape them as it will. Some Fey hold favor with allowing the world to craft a Kinder's form, trusting in its wisdom. Others, however, prefer a more intimate course, believing that though they cannot impart their own blood or lineage, they may yet bestow upon their Kinder a form wrought of their own design."
"Oh, so did your Fey-Parent choose this mushroom-look for you?"
"My form was bestowed upon me by the choice of this world. When I was but a babe, Fey-Fruit was given unto me, and the forest, in its wisdom, chose to adopt me for a time. This, happens time to time—when a fruit calls to thee very strongly, 'tis a sign that thou art chosen to become a Prime Companion for a season, and placed beneath the tender care of the forest." Walter smiled down at the Appapuffs and scratched the nearest, Miele, under the chin. His glossy eyes had a far away look, as if he were reminiscing back on very fond, comforting memories. "I spent many years as a little Shroomling, and when the forest deemed it time for me to grow beyond its guardianship, I awoke in the form I now bear."
"Huh…." He nodded. He was scared to say more, less he said something offensive, but he really wanted to know more about what Kinders were, and about the Companions. Wanda and Jorgen acted like it was something terrible, but it did not seem so bad to him.
"I do much appreciate the form the Forest hath chosen for me; it hath made a wise decision. Yet... there is one thing that doth vex me, though only because of Bolt! I once found myself in a quarrel with him, and in his temper, he didst threaten and carry out said threat, to make mushroom soup of me!"
"He made you into soup!?"
"Verily, no jest! He didst throw me into a great, heavy pot of water, which Aunty Lillixia had set outside to prepare for a grand soup—then, with no mercy, he didst place a great and heavy lid atop me!"
"That must have been painful…!" He gasped, remembering the time Vicky had stuffed an apple in his mouth and placed him on a spit over a fire; declaring she was going to celebrate her dog Doidle's birthday by serving him roasted twerp.
"Kindred bodies differ greatly from human forms; to me, a boiling pot of soup was like a soothing, warm bath. Though I didst loathe being trapped within, it felt most pleasant, and ere long, I drifted into slumber. When I did awaken, I found myself surrounded by my Fey aunts and uncles, all in merry laughter, for it seemed that Walter-soup had been prepared for supper. And worse still—'twas my own mushrooms that had flavored the broth! To this very day, folk still jest and bid me climb into the pot to season the soup!"
"R-really?" He asked, unable to hold back a laugh, because it seemed that Walter was joking, but then, what if he wasn't? What if laughing offended him? Like, the time Chester was telling him about the racoons that took over his trailer home, the story had been funny, and he had laughed, but it had hurt Chester's feelings…and everyone called him inconsiderate.
"Truly, and thou must feel this!" Walter insisted, with no trace of offense over his giggles, and then grabbed his hand and had him feel his arm, brownish and woodgrain; the texture of his skin felt like touching the bark of a tree, and yet it wasn't hard like wood, it was warm too; he was feeling something that was neither wood nor flesh.
"Thou seest what my skin is like, do you not? If I soak in warm water, moss doth grow upon me for weeks! 'Tis not so ill in the colder seasons, for in winter and fall, 'tis like a most comforting blanket. Thistledust is gentle and careful when he grows my moss, but Bolt—he didst douse me in it, from head to toe—and left me there to simmer, and then, to my great vexation, he called me a moss monster when I became all green and fuzzy overnight! Even Thistledust couldst not gaze upon me without bursting into mirthful laughter!"
"Oh, Walter, you do seem to enjoy recounting your disputes with Bolt." Nova remarked with a smile as he came back into the room, laughing as he overheard the ending to a story he was likely very familiar with. "I have directed Clara to the meditation garden for relaxation; I assume you two have had the opportunity to establish rapport during my absence."
"Oh, indeed! We had a most delightful conversation whilst thou wert away, Uncle Nova!"
He had to admit that he had been surprised at the other boy's chattiness. Earlier, when they had all been in the glade together looking at the deer, Walter seem like the quiet type, not shy, but not very talkative. However, right now, he seemed to really enjoy talking.
'Walter's speech patterns make him somewhat hesitant to participate in group discussions.' Nova's voice popped into his head, even as Nova was speaking to Walter aloud, telling him that he was going to sit up a camera now so that Thistledust and Wanda could have a recording of their playtime. 'He has made numerous attempts to modernize his language but has been unsuccessful. He experiences self-consciousness to speak overly long in groups, yet when in the company of one or two individuals, he becomes quite talkative. During initial interactions with someone new, Walter can sometimes exhibit a degree of anxiety and sensitivity. He will become quiet if they struggle to comprehend his speech or express even a minor negative opinion about it. His animated demeanor now suggests that you have already proven yourself to be a valuable friend.'
Not for even a moment had he even thought that Walter had seemed anxious or sensitive about meeting him; and that while they had been chatting, he had been worrying that he might be made fun of because of the way he spoke.
Walter spoke as though he had stepped out of a Shakespeare play; and while he had thought this, he had refrained from commenting on it. It wasn't so bad that he couldn't grasp the gist of the boy's words, so he saw no real reason to comment on his manner of speaking. He simply believed he enjoyed speaking in such a manner and saw no reason to stop him from doing so.
'You see, my dear Timmy? Nova smiled at him in approval. 'Your considerate and kind nature makes you a worthy friend.'
He smiled to himself, so…he had made no mistakes; and he had shown consideration and kindness by not commenting on Walter's speech patterns… maybe…he really could make a friend….?
—Wanda's Pov—
She sat, still stuck among the company of the other Fey, her eyes fixed on the television. She did not understand why all of them were watching with so much interest. The recording played out as Nova had promised—hours of footage compressed into minutes. Timmy and Walter's playdate unfolded on-screen, carefully monitored by the camera Nova had conjured to reassure her nothing inappropriate would occur. She could understand Thisledust's interest, but why would the other Fey care about the playtime between two little boys? The expressions on their faces was as excited and as interested as people watching the super bowl. Even the two Kinder children watched, as if the on goings were something fantastic when, they were actually rather mundane.
For her, it gave a chance to watch over Timmy, but for anyone else, wouldn't it be on par to watching a television show with no plot or action? She just couldn't understand the Fey…and was quite glad that this single video was all they were seeing; the very idea of being watched like that by them was creepy and a part of he couldn't help but be worried that the 'souvenir' video of the party Nova had held for them, had also been put on television for others to watch.
….Had…everyone seen her get drunk and behave like some nit-wit? She felt her face heat up as she worried over it. Nova had said that the video tape that had been recorded had just been for her and Timmy to watch….but….what if…?
"Don't worry about it…." Dazzle who was sitting on one side of her on the couch she had switched to, in order to watch the television better, patted her arm.
"Worry about it?" She questioned, blushing deeper. Was what she was worrying about that easy to see?
"The cameras Nova poofs up to record special moments are designed to record onto tapes; right now, we are watching the tape playing as it is being recorded, and don't worry, I promise there are no hidden cameras in the room."
Several Fey chuckled, and Ariafern smiled, folding her hands together in her lap. "Even though watching visitors to our world is entertaining, we Fey do not go about hiding in cameras."
"Sorry…I did not mean to…" She started awkwardly, worried about antagonizing them, but they all just laughed.
"Reasonable worry, darling." Rosehip chuckled. "I mean, after all, our world is confusing to you still, you do not know our ways. Of course you'd be concerned about cameras."
"There are no secret cameras." Thistledust, who sat on the other side of her, pronounced plainly. "Whenever there is a camera, you will be told."
"We Fey do have better things to do than spy on guests all day, even if we find outsiders behave interesting." Aelar admitted. Edmund who sat in his lap, swung his short pudgy legs.
"…I like doing what I find fun, even if I can be doing better things with my time, fun is best. Daddy Aelar thinks so too."
"Edmund, shush, shush." Aelar tickled the boy who burst into giggles.
"We Fey don't really use cameras often, but when we do—we can do lots of neat stuff." Gizmo remarked, flashing her one of her insincere smiles. She wondered if she disliked her, or if this was just the way she always smiled. "Right now, the footage that is being is being played super fast, but if you go back to watch the recording later, it will be normal speed."
The peculiar nature of Fey technology struck her—apparently the footage she watching was, in reality, zooming by at incredible speed, and yet her mind and ears perceived things as if it was playing at a normal rate. Gizmo and the Tooth Fairy debated the mechanics of the recording, but she had no interest in their technical jargon. All she cared about was being able to watch over Timmy. Though she was also relieved that cameras weren't being hidden….not that she'd trust the words of Fey alone, but she also knew that Fey couldn't lie without being left with a literal bad taste in their mouth—and all of those who had spoken, had not shown any grimace or any attempt to block out the bad taste by shoving cake into their mouths.
She relaxed a little and continued to watch the images of Timmy being played back on the television.
He was weak from his treatments, and the high fever caused by Queen Mab's blessing sapped the little strength he had; and yet, for the first time in what felt like forever, he was laughing and enjoying the company of another child. It had been so long since she had seen him this way….
She provided Timmy with all the mother-love, support, and help she could give; but a child truly did need to be accepted by other children—and that wasn't a hole a mother could fill.
Her happiness at witnessing his enjoyment was overshadowed by the worry she felt upon seeing his feverish, flushed cheeks and the unusual gleam in his clouded eyes. Occasionally, his body would give a slight twitch in erratic, jerky motions, as though he was experiencing a sugar high but lacked the energy to burn it off.
Nova had explained his state as a side effect of "Blooming," apparently a phase of Queen Mab's blessing that would happen three times before the child 'Blossomed'. No one had offered her a clear explanation of what "Blooming" and 'Blossomed' truly entailed—only vague assurances that it was a "good thing" and that it "felt nice." Even when she asked directly for exact details of what those terms actually meant, the Fey brushed her off with empty platitudes, telling her to just trust in Queen Mab's authority and wisdom.
She wanted to insist further, for a real answer, but Ariafern had caught her eyes, giving her a look of warning, her bright eyes glancing in Thistledust's direction giving her head a light shake. Apparently questioning the Queen was not a good idea in front of this guy and she did not know enough about him or how he'd react to take the risk of further questions. Perhaps Piper, who did not like Mab, would be more willing to tell her what the terms Blooming and Blossomed meant for for poor Timmy, who had Mab's blessing forced onto him.
The only tangible clue so far came during the playdate. Walter had remarked that Timmy smelled wonderful, like "stargaze lilies and pink camellias," to which Timmy laughed, complaining that the scent was so strong that it was making him feel a little dizzy.
Nova's voice on the recording had been reassuring yet unsettling: "The fragrance is a natural result of Blooming. Queen Mab's Nectar, once it infuses a person, imparts a unique, permanent perfume to the individual. Timmy's Blooming marks the emergence of his scent's top notes."
A permanent perfume? Her heart sank. She didn't want Timmy to be changed—not by Mab, not by anyone. What exactly was this 'perfume'? Was it just a benign quirk of having been blessed, or did it serve some deeper purpose that the Fey was not telling her?
She tried again to question those around her, this time attempting to sound casual due to Araifern's quite warning about Thistledust. Unfortunately, the Fey gave her no real information, just saying the perfume would mellow out once he Blossomed and not to worry about it. She wanted to scream that she wasn't worried about the strength of the perfume, she was worried about what it meant. What was the perfume for? What did it do?
Dazzle appeared like she had something she wanted to say, nervously glancing at the others, before her eyes fell upon Thistledust. The lavender eyes of the curly blonde Fey lingered on him for a few moments, before she lowered her head, sealing her lips tight.
It would seem Dazzle hadn't the nerve to say what she wanted in front of Thistledust.
It seemed her only option was to continue to sit silently, watching the television, attempting to take pleasure in Timmy's joy, all the while keeping watch that Walter did not try to discreetly or overtly try to persuade him to remain in Fey world.
She hoped that was not the case, but…given the current state of her poor Timmy's life, just being offered friendship and acceptance from someone could be enough to….convince him to stay….
'Timmy loves me too much to ever be swayed to leave me.'
She shook her head, trying to chase off that nasty thought, not wanting to be reassured by it.
"There are tons of interesting things outside in the garden, but right now, I'm feeling so weak, I don't think I have the energy to sit up….not until my fever goes down." Timmy spoke apologetically, laying against his pillows, look weary. "Sorry…it might be boring for you…"
On-screen, Walter spoke gently. "These days, I too must often rest and forgo strenuous play. On certain days, I am even compelled to lie abed, as thou art now. Therefore, worry not that I shall tire of thy company or thy frailty."
Beside her, Thistledust sighed.
"Is he… unwell?" She asked, concerned and got a small, resigned smile in return.
"No. Just old."
"Old?" She blinked, taken aback. The Kinders all looked like children, and that little boy, so small, looked no older than eight. Though she ought to know by now that looks in Fey world were deceiving and nothing was as it seemed to be.
"Walter is the oldest Kinder in Fey history," Thistledust explained wistfully. "He used to be a bundle of energy—climbing rocks, exploring caves. Now, he's lucky if he can manage a short walk."
"That reminds me of a cat I used to play with before that stupid barrier stopped us from visiting the human world," Glimmer interjected brightly, rambling on about something that really felt like it had no connection to what they had been discussing. "It was this cute, bright orange little thing with white paws. I used to watch over this family of human farmers, you see—don't ask why; but I'd disguise myself as a cat, and this particular cat, it was my favorite. It thought I was it's mommy I guess. When it was a kitten, it could leap to the top of the haymow in one bound, but as an old cat, it could barely jump onto its owner's chair! Poor little Walter is like that now, a cat too old to jump…or would it be a mushroom too old to release spores? I dunno, but I personally think it's sad when Kinders get too old to still act like the kids they look like."
Her jaw dropped at the insensitivity of the comparison and the subsequent comment. The flippant tone in which it was delivered only worsened the impact, sending a stab of irritation through her. She held back a retort, however, fearing the repercussions a quarrel might have on her chances of reuniting with Timmy. Around her, Dazzle, Aelar, and Rosehip exchanged weary glances, evidently used to Glimmer's lack of tact.
Thistledust scowled. "I'm amazed Queen Mab let you into her Circle, let alone this Ring."
Glimmer rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath, before saying aloud. "This Ring is for the select, handpicked by Queen Mab. If you have a problem with me being here, then you're saying you have a problem with our Queen's decisions."
Thistledust growled lowly under his breath and Dazzle jumped in to ease the tension. "Walter really is special," she said with a bright smile. "Everyone loves him! He's famous! He is literally part of our history books, and all four Supreme Fey Queen's love him. Even the Black Magic Queen Nicnevin and the Soul-Slayer Queen Cailleach have ordered their subordinates not to lay a hand on him."
Four supreme Fey Queens? Black magic Queen? Soul-Slayer Queen?-and she thought just dealing with Queen Mab was bad! She hoped Timmy wouldn't be dealing with those other ones...
Thistledust nodded. "Yes, he's truly one of a kind. There has never been a Kinder more loved…ironic isn't it, for a little boy who was thrown away the day he was born….?"
Discarded at birth...? She clutched her chest, taken aback. The story of this little boy sparked her curiosity. She yearned to inquire, yet the discussion had swiftly shifted, with the Fey now recounting their cherished tales involving Walter.
"My little Bolt will never admit it, but it's obvious he thinks of Walter as his best friend—no matter how much he picks on him. Like that time, he teased him for growing all that moss after sticking him in that soup pot! But afterward, he came to me in tears, asking if Walter would ever be normal again. It was so cute!" Gizmo laughed.
Thistledust chuckled. "The Walter-soup incident will never be forgotten."
She forced a small smile at the lighthearted exchange, but her unease lingered.
Walter had apparently be thrown away the day he had been born….did that mean that poor child had never gotten to live as a human before he had been remade into a Kinder?
The Kinders seemed like ordinary children on the surface, but she couldn't forget the truth she'd seen: of how a group of Kinders, had gone from joyful laughter to fanatic devotion and then hushed reverence instantly, as if Mab's presence had flipped a switch within them. Mab wasn't the only one who had control over these kids; each and every single Fey had the power to manipulate their feelings, thoughts, and memories effortlessly. These children might be well cared for, but they weren't free….and apparently this poor Walter child, despite how long he had lived, had never experienced freedom even once….
— Piper's POV—
"Well, this is a fine mess! Seriously….! With everything else going on, do I really need a deformed Kinderkin running amuck?" Piper cursed, unable to detect Lilithree's presence; her only clues to the Kinderkin's whereabouts was the colossal mess left in her wake. The heaviness of the Kinderkin's body, combined with her surreal strength that she had no ability to control, equaled to her breaking everything she touched and leaving her foot indentations in the floor.
Earlier, she had brought Lilithree to one of three specialized rooms in the depths of the clinic's basement. Originally built to contain Monsters, these rooms were enchanted to withstand both physical force and magic. There, she had left her, securing the lock, believing it would keep her both safe and contained. Left to roam freely, Lilithree might terrify the Kinders with her appearance, but more so with her immense strength, she could inadvertently harm others. This was evident when she had injured the baby Appapuffs by squeezing them too tightly in her affection for 'fluffy things.' Had she not intervened, Lilithree might have accidentally killed them.
The thought made her shudder; if Lilithree ever saw a 'fluffy' Kinder like Rachel or Kieran and embraced them in a bear hug, their fragile spines would likely snap.
"If either of those two end up on the receiving end of Lilithree's cuddle of death, Bliss will weep a river, then promptly try to drown me in it, and Melika well, she'd…" She shuddered as her brain tried to form the thought but refused to do so. "…No. Not even my mind wants to travel down a road that dark…I don't even want to think how someone who used to be part of Queen Dullahan's Circle would go about torturing someone…"
Anyone of the Fey, in fact, would react furiously if their Kinder got harmed, and frankly, she wouldn't blame them for being pissed at her for not taking more precautions.
The Kinderkin's escape left her utterly confused; the rooms were designed to be foolproof. How she managed to break out remained an enigma. She knew that not finding Lilithree in time, before any damage was done, would put her squarely at fault for any calamity. As a doctor, the idea of her carelessness resulting in injury or death was a blow to both her principals and her pride.
She snapped her fingers, conjuring up some security screens, and cursed—all she saw was a mess, but no Lilithree.
"She must have gotten outside—oh shit!" She snapped her fingers and appeared beside the outdoor pen where Nova kept injured Companions and animals. Tensing, she looked out into the pen, and with a gasp, bent over clutching the railing, feeling her knees almost shaking as she looked out at the sight before her. In the background was an odd crunching noise, but right now, the only sound that really mattered was the various squeaks, mewls, bleats, whines and purrs coming from the pen.
"Hey….? Are you….alright?" A soft, mousey voice came from behind her; most of the time it was a voice that was cheerful and full of life and spirit, like a flower opening to the sun, but when it spoke to her, the owner of this voice was like a lily-flower at night, closed.
She let out another trembling breath and straightened up, her legs wobbly as she surveyed the pen of creatures, all thankfully safe. The wave of relief at seeing them unscathed was so intense it made her head spin. It reminded her of how she had felt the time she'd taken one of her mother's cherished angels-to-be out into the forest for a secret playtime, only to lose him. The sheer happiness she experienced upon finding the toddler before it could eat any Fey fruit was overwhelming. That she hadn't made some stupid, careless blunder...that resulted in something that just couldn't be undone...that a stupid mistake made by her hadn't ruined things...
"Yeah, fine. Just thought I was about to lay my eyes on a massacre…." With a relieved breath, she turned around to face her visitor. "What are you doing here, Lillixia? Aww, did you come to bake sweets together, just like when we were kids?"
Lillixia's pale cheeks turned pink at her mocking tone, and she lowered her eyes to the ground, clutching the skirt of her layered ruffled dress, as pale as dawn light, in her fists nervously as she wrung her hands. A habit she had since childhood; in fact, Lillixia chose to remain looking just as she did that day centuries ago, when she had first learned the world was not some wonderful sweet infused dreamland; as if staying with an eternally sixteen year old appearance would somehow allow her to cling to the innocent worldview that had been shattered that day, so long ago now, but probably just like yesterday in Lillixia's memories.
"Um, no….but…umm, Bubbles came to see me and she said….you were crying? Something about feeling bad over Jacob…she had heard we, um, used to be really close, so she…came to see me…because she was worried about you."
She scoffed. "Oh please, don't tell me you actually thought she, of all people, was concerned and not just wanting to gossip?"
"Well…" Lillixia bit her bottom lip, hesitating a moment, her large, twilight blue eyes shifting around.
"I faked it, just to get some peace and quiet."
"….Althea would be furious to know you did that…." Lillixia grimaced. "You know how badly she took what happened to Jacob. Why'd you do something like that? I know you…felt bad, even if it wasn't really your fault…so…why?"
"Yeah, I know it was tasteless, but I had to shut her up before she went too far and that was all I could think of. If I hadn't stopped her from talking, I might have ripped her tongue out of her mouth, and Nova, if he had overheard the things she was saying—well, you know Nova's temper…I don't need to say what he would have done!"
Lillixia shuddered. "I know very well of what Nova is capable of when roused to fury….but….what was Bubbles saying that was so bad?"
The truth was that Bubbles had annoyed her, but she wasn't overly angry about what had been said. However, the plan Bubbles proposed was perilous and contradicted the Circle's principles. She would consider it if Timmy's condition could benefit Dahila, but she would not proceed with any treatment without Mab's consent. She wouldn't jeopardize her home, reputation, or her access to the rare and splendid entertainment provided by treating the occasional human, just to appease Bubbles.
Nonetheless, Bubbles lacked the skill to keep her thoughts to herself and would likely blab about her plan, possibly overstating her readiness to proceed with it.
Before rumors and gossip spiraled out of control, she would express false outrage and indignation to Lillixia about the issue, ensuring that no one would suspect her of any clandestine activities. Hiding what Bubbles had proposed she do, would only give the impression that she had intended to covertly comply with the woman's request—merely to satisfy her boredom and medical curiosity.
"She thinks we can use Timmy's condition to find a cure for Dahlia."
"She…what?" Lillixia gasped, appalled. "But…wouldn't that involve…?"
"Yeah, it would." She tapped her foot impatiently, pulled at her hair, and furrowed her brows, puzzled by the persistent crunching noise coming from behind the clinic, though she had an inkling that if she were to look, she'd find her missing Kinderkin. She resolved to investigate after her conversation with Lillixia; it wouldn't take long, as Lillixia had no reason to linger in her company. "Can you believe she actually thought I'd dabble in soul-tampering? Do I look like a freaking Soul-Slayer? The closest I'll ever come to dealing with that nasty stuff is with Timmy and only because he came to me in that state!"
That and it was the most interesting case she had ever encountered, not that she'd say that part out loud.
"Yes... the entire village shares the same sentiment regarding this matter... we are embroiled in this solely because his life—his very soul—is at stake. It wasn't our doing that brought him to this plight... and we are the only ones who can rescue the child." Lillixia pressed her hands against her chest sincerely. She truly seemed the epitome of innocence, or perhaps deliberate naivety.
"I mean, double-fudge sundaes!" she exclaimed, still feigning anger, confident that Lillixia wouldn't be able to tell that she was faking it. "I'm at a loss for what she was thinking. The child's heart is—ugh! And there's an actual void suckin' in pure Fey energy! I can't even guess at how Timmy will turn out at the end of his treatment—let alone what it would do to Dahlia! I mean, that kid is—!"
"Don't..." Lillixia cringed, not wanting to hear the details of Timmy's condition and how he ended up that way a second time; too bloody and disturbing for the likes of her tender ears.
"Well, anyway, I tried to tell her that I have no idea how Timmy's going to bounce back from this, let alone how it would affect Dahlia and she had the nerve to suggest I experiment on Timmy, in order to see if I could find some way to help Dahlia, using his condition. That's the boy my best friend has adopted as a grandson, like I'm going to intentionally prolong his treatment and take risks with him just to *maybe* help Dahlia based on a theory someone, with no medical expertise, has conjured up in their head. Frankly, it's insulting!"
"No!" Lillixia took her words at face value, truly believing she was outraged, disgusted, and offended by the request.
"Yes! Unbelievable, right? If Nova caught wind of her 'let's poke and prod Timmy to see if we can use his misfortune as someone else's cure' plan, he'd throw one of his legendary fits of rage, and pop goes Bubbles... though I doubt there'd be any tears shed for her."
Lillixia placed her two soft, white hands to her equally fair, delicate face, to hide her bottom lip, which had begun to quiver, her eyes going wide in astonishment.
"How—awful! Hasn't she hurt Dahlia enough? And, and—to suggest…!" Lillixia bowed her head, her soft chestnut hair falling in tousled waves just past her slender shoulders, her long, thick bangs momentarily covering her eyes. She always lowered her head like this to hide when she was in tears, but the gesture was so well known that she might as well just conjure up a neon sign above her head that said 'I'm about to cry!' "Oh, that poor little boy….! Nova must be taking things terribly hard…"
She watched her, standing there, trembling, with her shoulders and head bowed; the setting sun cast a golden glow on her, as if to make her shine; like a radiant figure of helpless purity.
Their mothers had been best friends, and they had been too—as children.
They never had an actual fight; but….well, Lillixia was as delicate as the lily flowers she was named for and that was why they just couldn't remain friends after the day Lillixia realized just what turning human children into Angels really meant.
Girls like Lillixia belonged in worlds with no ugliness, no necessary evils, no impurity; she belonged in a world where everyone was filled with nothing but good, and bad things only happened to bad people, of which there were none. A world where even the most grievous of mistakes and wrongs could be made all better with a simple 'I'm sorry,' and where all misunderstandings could be sorted out in a simple cordial discussion.
Lillixia was the kind of girl who deserved such a world; but alas, not even magic could make a world like that exist.
"Well, as you can see, I'm fine. You should run along and bake a cake or something. Nova said he'll throw a party tonight for everyone who couldn't come to the tea party; having your sweets there will make things special for those disappointed kids."
"R-right…I have already prepared some things…." Lillixia sniffled a bit, wiped at her eyes and then tried to pretend that she had never been crying; though the whites of her eyes had turned bright pink, her skin blotchy and her nose red and runny.
Lillixia was a beautiful girl, the epitome of grace, purity and delicacy, but a real ugly crier and, unfortunately, someone with a spirit as fragile as hers cried an awful lot.
"…Ugh, between that god mother and you, the village is going to be flooded with tears; everything is fine, so go home and rela—no, wait, instead stand here, by the pen….just in case while I go check the back of the clinic, though I'm pretty sure I know what's happening back there."
"In case…?" Lillixia then gasped. "Oh, that's right, you said something earlier about a-m-massacre…?"
"Yup; you see…earlier in the forest I found a Kinderkin wandering about."
"But, I did not feel the presence of anyone new enter our forest…" Those large doe-eyes went even wider. She sometimes wondered if this girl spent hours in front of a mirror practicing which expressions made her appear the most innocent and powerless, but then decided they looked far too natural on her to be practiced.
"She's probably so long in her generation that her energy single is no different from the energy of our world; believe me, the girl is a real mess; like something out of a horror flick…and to make it worst, she has a six year old girl's brain, a six year old girl's love of cuddly, cute things, and a six year old elephant's strength."
Lillixia looked dismayed, putting a hand to her lips as she looked at the pen of animals and Companions, looking sick to her stomach at what might have been. "The poor dear must have been dropped off by a peddler because no one wanted her….not that I don't feel bad, but…leaving a child like that wandering about isn't safe for others…."
"It's not like I left her running about; I put her in one of the basement rooms, and believe it or not, she got out."
"But—! Those rooms... they were designed to contain Monsters..." Lillixia stammered. She and her mother had never created Monsters during the war; however, after the war ended, her mother was resolute in her attempt to transform the surviving Monsters back into Kinders.
It had been a project dear to the heart of Dulcie Sweet. One that Lilixia's parents, Floravia and Petarion Orchidell, had done all they could do to help her with, and had become as attached to the project as her own mother had been.
….When it had dismally failed; Dulcie, Floravia and Petarion had all decided to give up being Fey, and become fairies. She did not know Floravia and Petarion's reasons, but for her mother she knew why she had given up everything to become a fairy. It was so that she could become a godmother.
Most of the little Angels her mother had loved so much had been lost to the battlefield. The few lucky ones who came back were stolen by Mab and her 'blessing', as she decided to give them the 'heros honor' of living within her court.
Unable to help the little ones who had become Monsters and separated from the few of her beloved angels who had survived the war, her mother had no reason to remain in Fey world…there was no one there to help, to love, to shower her affections on.
She wanted to be a godmother and help raise a child to be happy…rather than as a tool for war.
….And yet, she had instead inadvertently turned her god daughter into a monster due to a careless mistake and was now slowly dying by Mary Alice's hand…
"…." She looked Lillixia over, frowning, her brows furrowing as a thought suddenly occurred to her. Floravia and Petarion were still living as fairies. Surely, they must have written to Lillixia about what had happened to Dulcie.
"W-what is it?" Lillixia took a step backwards, clutching her hands to her chest, looking like a spooked chipmunk as she noticed the change in her expression.
"How long did you know about it?"
"About…?"
"My mother."
"Her being injured? I found out the same day as you did…"
"About her wings, you twit!"
"Wings?" Lillixia tilted her head, blinking.
"Don't play dumb, though it is the only game you ever win at." The idea that Lillixia, of all people, had been harboring a secret of such magnitude for years was simply too much to stomach. Imagine, this bashful girl had the nerve to rub elbows with her at social events, chat with her time to time, and see her practically every day, all the while aware that her mother was slowly turning to dust, and yet she opted to keep it hidden from her. Probably her meek disposition clamped her mouth shut, choosing the peace of quiet over the awkwardness of being the bearer of bad tidings, and that, ironically, was the cherry on top of the infuriating cake.
"I really don't know what you're talking about, Candy…." Lillixia insisted earnestly, being one of the few who still called her by her original name.
"Look, Jorgen told me today about my mother's wings having been ripped off by that damned Mary Alice! I know there's no way your parents wouldn't have written to you about it. Look, I know you're spineless, but how dare you hide that my mother is dying from me—! How could you just keep quiet about something like that!? I swear, I've always known you were a coward, but hiding that my mother is as good as dust from me just because you did not want to be the bearer of bad news? That's low! Just what kind of—umm…Lillixia?" She stopped in her rant as she saw Lillixia's color drain until she matched the same shade of her dress, and she was shaking from head to toe.
"Nooo….aunty Dulice is….ah…." In a graceful swoon, she collapsed, folding into a small heap upon the ground.
"Damn…she even faints gracefully…" She sighed, looking down at Lillixia, who laid sprawled on the lawn, an embodiment of fragile elegance.
She clicked her tongue, grimacing as she tugged on the ends of her braids restlessly. Apparently, she had jumped the shark just now. Floravia and Petarion really hadn't told Lillixia anything about what had befallen her mother. Who knew the reason for their silence on the matter? Perhaps they had known that Lillixia would be unable to handle such devastating news.
"…Well, good job opening your great big mouth, Piper, now everyone's gonna know 'bout it!"
Lillixia was not a gossip, but she wore her feelings on her sleeve, and the moment anyone pressed her as to what was wrong, she'd spill everything.
"Oh, Is she dead?"
With a weary sigh mixed with relief, she turned to see Lilithree skipping towards her, emerging from behind the clinic with heavy thuds that vibrated the earth. Lilithree was a mess, her face, hands, and clothes smeared with frosting, dotted with fragments of shattered candies, and sprinkled with cookie crumbs. It had been just as she had suspected when she had first heard the crunching noises. Apparently the child had gone outside…and thankfully her attention had been caught by the Gingerbread Clinic rather than the fluffy creatures in the pen.
"Do I….want to know what the back of my house looks like….?" A massacre hadn't occurred, thankfully but apparently a demolition had.
"Nooo…." Lilithree put her hands to her messy face, laughing and then pointed at Lillixia. "If she's dead, I can get rid of her for you! I'll put her in a place no one will ever find her."
"Well, ain't that ominous….but admittedly tempting…" She pulled back Lilithree, who had begun to poke at Lilixia's leg, as if checking to see if she'd move. "How'd you get out of the room I put you in, anyway?"
"Easy, I just hit the door with my fists, over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over—-"
"I get it, I get it….maybe I ought to chain you up next time…."
Lilithree stared up at her, large eyes with the beady pupils betraying no emotion as she warned. "Chain me, and I'll bite you." She opened her mouth, revealing the rows upon rows of circular teeth lining her gums. "I'll bite you hard."
"...Well, you're still less of a headache to deal with than Lillixia. Come on, let's get you back inside before you cuddle anything to death." She took Lilithree by what passed for the girl's hand and led the Kinderkin back into the Gingerbread clinic, leaving her former childhood friend to sleep off her faint on the lawn; hopefully, she would wake up thinking it had all been a bad dream.
...If only she could wake up tomorrow believing the same.
— Nova's POV—
"It is now thy turn, Timmy; 'tis a most perilous leap. Mayhap thou shalt fare better than I."
He observed with satisfaction as Walter passed the controller to Timmy. The two boys were nestled in bed, engrossed in a pastime that bridged their vastly different worlds. When Walter had suggested playing his favorite game as a restful activity, Timmy had likely expected some ancient, obscure game—perhaps even one unique to their Fey realm. The boy's astonishment when it turned out to be the original NES of Super Mario Bros. had been priceless.
"Mario?!" Timmy had exclaimed, wide-eyed with surprise.
He had chuckled softly as he explained. "Though Walter hails from an era long before the advent of video games, we Fey have access to modern entertainment, and he has developed quite the affinity for gaming."
Walter, ever the earnest companion, had added, "Alas, I am yet unskilled with those vexing 3D contrivances, nor with games that demand complex controls. Yet I would gladly attempt them, shouldst thou wish to play. For myself, however, I am most adroit with the devices of Atari, NES, and Super Nintendo."
"That's fine by me!" Timmy had replied, his grin contagious. "The first Mario game I ever played was on the N64, so trying the original will be cool! According to Trixie, retro is so in right now."
And so, the boys had bonded in the way children often did—through games. Together, they traversed the Mushroom Kingdom, dodging fireballs and stomping Goombas, before embarking on other classic adventures. They ventured into Hyrule to rescue Princess Zelda, explored Zebes alongside Samus, and even stormed Dracula's castle as Simon Belmont. When one of them died, the controller passed, ensuring equal turns. For Timmy, who was feverish and needed frequent rest, the balance was perfect.
Despite his condition, Timmy had managed to stay lucid for most of the session, his face lighting up with joy as they played. His laughter, though soft, filled the room with a warmth that contrasted the chill of his fragile state. He knew this was no small feat; the boy's health had been tenuous at best, his body as delicate as a newborn kitten's.
Yet this vulnerability presented an opportunity—a perfect storm for the Blooming to take hold.
During the Blooming, a child's subconscious became a fertile ground for emotional impressions, absorbing sensations and ideas with unparalleled receptivity. In this state, he could plant a single, transformative notion: Kinders can be your friends.
For Timmy, a boy who had been shunned and bullied in the human world, the allure of friendship would be irresistible. The bond he formed with Walter, rooted in genuine camaraderie, would open the door to relationships with the other Kinders. It would not sever his love for Wanda, of course—that connection was unassailable. But it would give him something Wanda could not: a community of peers.
And when Wanda witnessed the joy radiating from her godson—the laughter in his voice, the sparkle in his eyes—she would face an undeniable truth: here, in Baile na Leanbhanna Draíochta, Timmy was happy. Perhaps happier than she had ever seen him in a world where he had no one but her, Poof and Cosmo.
"I propose we step away from the television for a time and enjoy the fresh air. What do you think of that plan, my dear boys?"
He looked at Timmy, who was currently laying against the pillows, looking drowsy and delicate. He offered a sleepy smile and a nod of his head, approving of the idea.
With a snap of his fingers, his stature stretched into the tall, commanding presence he seldom assumed. Towering over the boys, Walter stared in astonishment, while Timmy greeted him with a warm smile; his grandson understood the profound significance of this transformation—it was ingrained in him. In this guise, he embodied the role of a caregiver, a guardian; he was no longer the playful, doting grandfather, but the father figure he yearned for.
He approached the bed, gathering the drowsy boy into his arms with practiced ease. Wrapping Timmy in a warm blanket, he rocked him gently, his voice low and soothing. "Rest now, my dear one. When you awaken, we shall continue our adventures."
Within moments, Timmy's eyes fluttered shut, his breathing steadying as he drifted into sleep. Walter watched the scene with wide-eyed curiosity.
"I hath ne'er beheld thee in thy loftier form ere this moment, Uncle Nova."
He offered a wry smile. "I find it… disconcerting, the resemblance it creates to a human adult is distasteful to me. But for practical purposes, it is the most efficient way to care for Timmy in his current state, so I will be taking this form from time to time, from now on."
Walter nodded solemnly, his gaze softening as it returned to Timmy. "Poor Timmy… I hear tell that the magic filter cycle is a most arduous trial, and to endure the Blooming whilst so frail from his treatments—'tis a heavy burden indeed."
Due to his own weakness these days, Walter could certainly empathize with feeling tired and frail. Fortunately, Timmy's health did not cast a shadow over the playdate; Walter was inclined to respond with compassion and protectiveness towards a sickly friend rather than becoming bored or impatient.
Walter's innate compassion had made him the perfect accomplice in this scheme. The boy's genuine kindness would ensure Timmy felt safe and cherished, deepening their bond with every passing moment. Now, it remained to be seen if Wanda would execute her part as he had orchestrated, ensuring the plan unfolded as intended.
He approached the bedroom door and, with a smirk, cracked it open to peer into the relaxation room. He noticed Wanda tense up, diverting her gaze from the TV to the door, her eyes widening and her complexion paling as she trembled. Perhaps he was being slightly mean, but he couldn't help but enjoy teasing his daughter-in-law; her reactions were priceless! It was amusing to recall how she had become so angry that she exploded into confetti.
"Wanda, my dear," he began smoothly, "Timmy seems particularly fragile. I was hoping to take him outside for a breath of fresh air, but I want to ensure he remains warm and comfortable. Perhaps you could de-age him to the adorable toddler form you used earlier? As I have kept my word to you and accepted no Token from him, I cannot cast the spell on him, myself."
"Aahh…." She whimpered and scrambled out of her seat; this was a test, of course, to see how ready she was to be returned to Timmy's side. If she was still unable to control herself, he'd have to slow time down in her room and give her a while longer to calm down.
She hurried to the doorway, but his figure obstructing the entrance barred her entrance into the recovery room. Typically, as a fairy, she could teleport from room to room, but in this clinic, the use of magic by outsiders for such movement was forbidden, and they were required to use the doors to navigate. All she had room to do with the small opening he had left her in the crack of the door was stick her arm through.
"Oh, Timmy….sweetie…." She whispered, gently touching his face; his body was icy, yet his cheeks and forehead burned with fever. Even in slumber, her touch seemed to reach him as a smile unfolded across his face. She inhaled deeply, her brows knitting together, clearly detecting the scent of the Blossoming. The fragrance of flowers enveloped the boy; he chuckled softly and gave a slight shrug.
"It's a strong scent, I know, but rest assured, it will subdue once the process is complete."
Wanda tried her best not to glare at him, but the effort only sharpened her gaze, making it more cutting. Her expression betrayed the storm of words she wanted to unleash, yet she held herself in check, passing his test of restraint. Gently stroking Timmy's bangs, she asked softly what his real intentions were.
His reply was calm and measured. "Simply take him out for some fresh air, as I said. It would be easier to keep him warm and rested if he were small enough for, say, a stroller. Only for a short while, I assure you."
Wanda sighed, her expression hardening as she scrutinized him. Her silence was heavy with mistrust. Finally, raising her wand, she gave Timmy a light tap. In an instant, he found himself holding a small, swaddled baby in his arms. Wanda's sour yet self-satisfied look spoke volumes—a triumphant air of someone who believed they had outmaneuvered a schemer.
"If small is what you wanted," she remarked coolly, "then he'll be even easier to care for like this." Her meaning was clear: if the true intent behind his request had been to exploit Timmy's toddler state to make him more impressionable, she had outmaneuvered him by making him a baby too young to understand or retain anything.
He remained unruffled, his expression serene as he cooed gently at the now-infant Timmy. Inside, however, his satisfaction swelled.
Hook, line, and sinker. In her desperate attempt to safeguard Timmy, Wanda had inadvertently played her role flawlessly. While she thought she had foiled his scheme, she had, in fact, carried it out impeccably.
The moment he had noticed the signs of Timmy's Blooming, he had crafted this strategy. Blooming was a state of heightened receptivity, a dreamlike condition where the subconscious absorbed impressions without resistance. By making Timmy a baby during this period, he could exploit both the Blooming and the natural tendency of infants to imprint on their caregivers.
This potent combination would ensure that Timmy formed an instinctive, deep-rooted affection for him and Walter, who would tend to him during this critical time. As a baby, Timmy wouldn't merely hear their words—he would absorb them, feel them, and embed them into the very core of his being.
The plan's ingenuity was in its simplicity and the assurance that Wanda would never suspect the bonds had been formed by unnatural means. When the Blooming ended, and Timmy returned to his normal state, he would carry an unshakable emotional attachment to him and Walter. Walter, in particular, would ascend to the role of Timmy's cherished new best friend. Their bond would naturally pave the way for Timmy to connect with the other Kinders, deepening his sense of belonging within the community of Bailena Leanbhanna Draíochta.
This newfound joy and friendship wouldn't sever Timmy's love for Wanda—He knew that bond was too strong to break. But that very love, so deeply rooted, would work in his favor. Wanda's greatest desire was Timmy's happiness, and when she saw the light in his eyes, the laughter in his voice as he played with the Kinders and thrived in the village, she would have to confront a bittersweet truth: he would be happier here.
As her resolve to resist weakened in the light of his joy, she would come to understand that Timmy would find something here that she couldn't provide—something he desperately needed: the acceptance of his peers.
This realization would lessen her reluctance to join them, and his hold on his family's future, along with the opportunity to reclaim all he had lost, would be at hand—it was already so close that all he had to do was reach out and seize it.