Meepoid

There was a very fancy tree by his door.  Again.  He'd had a couple of neighbours admire it, which was great, except... Well he'd not actually bought a tree this year, had never done real ones, the tatty artifical one was still stuffed in it's box, covered with a years layer of dust and various misplaced detrie in the box room.  This tree really was magnificent, the base appeared to be eotic moss then a wrap of gilt baubles swirled around it the top half more traditional pine needles. Smelt glorious: damp walks through ancient woods with tall trees and crunching leaves underfoot, fresh streams gurgling gleefully by; fresh, dark, permenance and nostalgia.  Escape.  Much of his work week was cold technology, blinking screens and cheap coffee left to stand too long.  This decadence had allure.  

But it wasn't for him.  This year he was swearing of the gimmicky commercial trappings and leaving Christmas in it's dusty room.  Maybe if he was lucky Christmas and the rest of the world would leave him be too.  The year had tested him and he felt he'd just scraped through; he'd raise a glass or bottle at New Year, open the back door for old Yule to clomp out and pooh on the straggly flower beds.  Then go to bed, wake to the kiss of youthful Spirit and hope to feel the New Year joy.  He felt very tired.  Constantly.  He stopped lingering by the intruding tree.  Unlocked his door.  Went in. Closed and locked the door behind him.  Shut off the memories.  The house had a chill though warm compared to outdoors, heating just gearing up not yet in tune with the weather.  Toeing off his boots at the doorway he noticed the thin patches on his socks had developed into holes.  Socks were such an underrated Christmas present.  Or he was getting old.  The living room looked cosy, if unfestive, deep coloured furnishings framed a decent fireplace with a worn but welcoming rug.  Old Yule farted in sum up of the day so far, too early yet for young Spirit to stir.



'Hey Markus' Mrs Weingarten juggled her bags to give a cheery wave and Markus laughed with her as they started to tumble, he left his garden to help her collect shiny parcels and rearrange her grip. 'Thanks love, you keep that silvery one, save me delivering later' she winked and he gave her a wary look as he thanked her.  It looked innocuous, a rectangular box wrapped in silver star scattered paper with a big bow, but while she was a lovely and a great neighbour to have, her sense of humour could cause some violent blushes!
'Thanks Mrs W, I'm late writing my cards this year' full disclosure they were still in the shop.
'That's ok lovely, you look after yourself, far more important' her lips narrowed in their smile and Markus's eyes prickled, he had good neighbours and really should buy some cards at the very least.  At this rate he was going turn into a fuzzy green Grinch.  Speaking of green...
'I love your Christmas tree by the way, so fancy' Mrs Weingarten recovered her good cheer, her nose was a little red from the cold or allergies, it was a very seasonal look 'Are you leaving it outside?  It's very fancy, makes me think of a grand Fae seeking enterance, seeking to be let in; steal your socks, scare your pets and drink your milk..' Her voice trailed off and Markus wondered if he should check a certain site for some tree fae porn later this evening.  Or if it was safer not too.
'I um' he looked back at his house.  The tree looked a little forlorn but seemed to fluff out and preen under their eyes.  It was an illusion caused by the wind of course.  But still...
When he turned back Mrs Weingarten was studying him with a kind smile, I'd best be getting this lot delivered, you take care Markus and remember there'll be plenty food around Christmas day if you want to call by, take a plate home if the kiddies are too much for you' her grandkids were cheeky little characters that could overwhelm if allowed to.
'Thanks, that's kind of you, be careful with those parcels' Markus saluted and after a few more well wishes continued to the shop, he grabbed some festive dog chews from the basket along with his milk, then a chocolate bar from the counter.  Three more people complimented his Christmas tree before he got home.  The little grandkid of -that lady who knew his mother- told him it looked sad but was quickly hushed and told how glamourous it looked.  He smiled and nodded politely while trying and failing to remember her name.


It was no distance but Markus's hands were cold by when he got home, he put his purchases on the step so he could dig his keys out of his pocket, pausing as he let go of the milk 'not for you' he told the trespassing tree.  A sudden wind made the branches ruffle in answer.  He leaned on the door jam after scooping up his things and caught himself examining Mrs W's gift.  He had nowhere to put it.  Markus stared at the tree.  Felt it watch him back.  He had several hours at the computer to get through before the chance to snuggle by the fire and start his new book.  The Pine airfreshner lurking under the sink smelt chemical and gave him a headache if used too generously.

'Ok' Markus closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  He blamed Mrs Weingarten for this.  Woman was incorrigible.  'You can come in, this is me inviting you' he opened his eyes, nothing had changed.  The tree stood tall and still, impressive but as inanimate as ever.  Not even a speaking breeze.  'There's conditions though, you can help yourself to the milk' he held the bottle up 'and any socks you want, most have holes in them anyway' that came out on a tired sigh, another little defeat, he firmed his voice and stance 'but if you scare my pets, I'll use you for firewood.  Even if it'll mean buying an axe' he thought about it some more 'and it'd have to be an outdoor fire because the house one is gas.  But I'll do it.  Don't doubt that.  You don't mess with my pets'.  Nothing happened.  The morning's quiet was broken by the sound of a car horn and Seagulls squabbling over some find.  Markus went indoors.


Hitting send was undramatic.  There should be a claxon sound, confetti from the ceiling, cheers and joy.  He felt tired.  His back ached.  His coffee had stagnated.  He couldn't remember eating and rubbing a hand over his belly didn't stop it's grumble.  Shower first.  He'd sent off enough to give himself a few days grace in which to ignore all the Christmas happening around him.

'I'll do us food in a minute, just grabbing a shower' he called, taking a gulp of the cold coffee when his voice came out rusty.  It wasn't pleasant.  The shower was heaven, or close to.  Markus lingered under the hot spray letting it ease his cramped muscles, then pulled on soft house clothes while still a little damp.  He'd lost some weight, looked tired, and his hair was long enough to fall all over the place.  Markus stuck his tongue out at his reflection, no surprise his reflection echoed the slight.

Dinner bowls hitting the floor got no response.  This was not the norm.  A worried head around the door showed his pets were blissfully asleep, a loud snore coming from the heap of blankets under the tree, and a twitching tail showing the other furry menace.

Under the......tree!

The tree was now in the corner of his living room, some space/time conundrum because it was too big to get through his door and he'd have sworn it wouldn't fit in that corner.  It's baubles had an extra shine to them and it looked smug.  Can trees even look smug?  Well it radiated smugness like a tactical entity.  'Smug' Markus decided, was definitely apt.  Welcome' he muttered, after several blinks a mild sense of panic and the thought he should call Mrs W.  The dogs looked supremely unbothered hy this new addition to the room 'kindling' he warned, before going back to the kitchen to grab his own food.

The evening was calm.  Markus read and enjoyed his book, the dogs woke and gobbled their food down with plenty of enthusiasm, then went out back to do their business with far less enthusiasm on encountering the cold.  The tree didn't seem to bother them.  It didn't do anything strange.  In fact it didn't so anything at all.  Just sat there,  looking opulant and ...smug.  He hesitated putting the light out that night but then laughed at himself, the tree had gotten in the house unaided, without a rustle he was pretty sure it didn't need a nightlight. 'So ...er goodnight then?' He nodded at the large fancy Christmas tree feeling a complete idiot and decisively turned the lights off, pulled the door from habit and went to bed.  The dogs led the way, Yule landing on the bed with a deep sigh and th epuppy needing to be lifted up.

In the morning Markus found his sock draw more organised than he'd ever seen it, though every neatly folded 'pair' was mismatch and the holed and stripey ones were missing.  At breakfast he found half his milk gone.  A glance down at beseaching doggy eyes meant he lost half his toast too, but his boys were both fine.

The living room looked a bit more welcoming somehow, brighter today, more polished.  The tree unmoved, unchanged and the smell glorious.  Come to think of it Markus had left a mug in the sink last night and today it had been washed and out away, he stopped the urge to go check.  About to say thankyou Markus remembered fairy tales from childhood - leave a saucer of milk but never thank the fae.  He nodded instead needing to acknowledge the tree somehow 'I'll buy more milk later' he promised, then booted up to take the dogs for a long walk.  Old Yule was slowing down but still loved a good zoom about, Young Spirit ran headlong into the mud, had to be pulled out and carried home.

The three of them had showers before Markus went for more milk.  He spotted Mrs Weingarten busy typing in her office and fave her a wave as he passed.  She seemed distracted but happy.  It was good not to have to turn his own computer on today.  Markus ignored his study, pulled on some warm socks then warmed some milk, placing a chocolate bar on the table next to his mug ready for dunking and melting.  Then he left the room to gather the book he'd left by his bed.  When he got back most of the milk and half the chocolate bar was gone.

'I'd believe it of the dogs they're no angels, but no way they'd leave half the chocolate' he gathered the mug with a sigh and turned to go refill it.
'Well you could have made me one' a voice accused 'that big dog threatened to pee on me, and the little one tried chewing my branches.  Didn't hear you threaten them with an axe'

Markus turned slowly.  There was still a tree in the corner but it smaller, undecorated.  In front of it stood a man.  About the same height as him, medium build, unremarkable worn jeans that fit him rather well, cotton shirt open at the neck.  There was something ageless about him as he stood staring but then he grinned with such pure mischief it ruined the effect.  Sparkling hazel eyes laughed at him 'soooo milk?' was asked hopefully.  Markus watched as he dragged a hand through dark hair that had the hint of moss green under the light.  'Milk' Markus agreed, leading the way to the kitchen.

'Mason, Mason' the voice teased him, carried on the wind that caressed his bare skin.  This was freedom, stripping of tension with the layers and breathing deep.  And, at the edge of any Wood, 'Mason, I can see you Mason' that voice, musical whimsy, aleady brimming with smug satisfaction.

Somehow a nights dancing had become a regular jaunt.  A drug and obsession.  Stories told that learning a Fae name gave you power over them, the ability to call on them.  Mason suspected a Fae learning your name meant the control was theirs.  He couldn't seem to care.

A weekend once a month had become fortnightly, now he set out every weekend for at least one night.  His muscles were bulking up from the exercise.  Both the hiking and the other pursuits left their marks.

'Mason' there he was, impatient now and no longer hiding.  Dressed only in velvet shadows that slid over silken skin when he stepped from the trees.

'Hello you' Mason grinned, every time was a treat.  There was always that nagging wonder if this was the last time, if next time the wind would be silent and he'd have only his camp fire to warm him.

'Dawn' said his secret lover, staring at him with a bitten lip, oddly poised and no longer smiling.
'Dawn?' Mason feared a deadline.
'Dawn Averey Faye.  My names.  Pleased to meet you Mason' Dawn Averey Faye sketched a courtly half bow and Mason felt the smile break over his face at the trust.
'Dawn' he said it with reverence 'Dawn Averey Faye, does this mean what I think it does?'
'That you may call on me and I claim you as mine?' Dawn nodded then grinned, a flash of sharp white teeth and devilment 'I have every intention of claiming you human, starting right now'
He pounced sending them both to the ground.
'I can live with that' chuckled Mason battling the hungry mouth for deep kisses

Hmm can't copy prompt charisstoma, but here's the first paragraph:


Ok, there was definitely someone in the bushes. Mason ran a tired hand over his face, scratching his beard, it was leaning more towards wild-man that hipster chic but that was the appeal of this place; it was supposed to be quiet. There'd been a strange light earlier and a random hiker wasn't unheard of, but Mason had picked a heavily wooded area right off the beaten track, not for the faint hearted. The bushes moved again, it was too big for the local wildlife and not many animals lay claim to the bright blue eyes he'd glimsed when his fire sparked. Checking the fire was safe Mason stretched nonchantly and huffed under his breath when the bushes stilled. Yep he had a peeper!

They met again before expected.

Bren's walk home interrupted by Seagull party, all bold shouts and cawing voices. He wasn't truely worried but if Zangiber wanted to step forward and play his hero then he was happy to enjoy the moment. It wasn't that dramatic, a simple warning and the suggestion of power rippling among them, the cool evening sparking with heat. The Seagulls sauntered off with a few choice call backs from a safe distance.

After that it was a simple thing to stare adoringly and get invited for a coffee. Zangiber it seemed did not live far. His house was unremarkable, a decent size and well kept. Inside was the magic, shelves lining the walls full of fascinating things. Lovingly carved wooden figures, shiny pebbles and pretty glass. Books stacked in each reach of comfy chairs. The one wall without shelving held a large stone fireplace and baove that a huge painting of an Autumn Wood, the artist's signature a stylized Z. It should have look cluttered, yet the house had a comfy feel, it felt like entering a treasure cave, so many wonderful things to take in. All clearly cared for.

Zanziber was watching his reaction, he gave a pleased smile, looking proudly around himself. 'My hoard' he revealed with a tone of hushed pride.
'Hoard?' Bren took a minute 'Dragon's hoard' He didn't get the feel of an ancient wise lizard, they were reclusive creatures with a flare for the dramatic. Zangiber was more warmth and cosy evenings.

'Mixed blood' Zangiber grinned offering a glimpse of sharp teeth.
'Me too' Bren offered when no more was forthcoming.
'Dragon and Squirrel' Zangiber revealed 'two species that like to gather treasures and protect their hoard. I'm very posessive of what's mine' he stepped closer and the heat in the room rose 'I never share, and I take very good care of what's mine' he licked his lips and it felt like an actual caress.

'Witch and Alchemist' Bren replied. 'Means I mix a mean cookie dough and take no shit from anyone' he grinned 'that sorted, do I get to see your nuts?' he fake leered then laughed along with Zangiber, almost choking when the man took a step forward 'they're ginger' he husked 'think you can handle the spice?'

'Oh try me'

It was along time before they remembered the coffee.

I've not writen anything for years! RL has held challenges. But Charis provided Plunny and the mood struck me, will finish it off later:



He couldn't work it out. Bren wiped the counter again, knocking and straightening the little tub of stirrers by rote. The woman, after pointedly clearing her throat in a way that did not sound happy asked if there was any chance of a coffee today. It woke Bren from his daydream. Well, it distracted him long enough for him notice her existance and be polite.

'Sure, sorry, mind was miles away, what can I get you?'
'Double espresso, soy milk, raspberry white chocolate syrup and an apple please' she spoke curtly, the please a bullet shot. Bird shifter he thought, her hair was sleeked down smooth, but her manner had the air of ruffled feathers, her long neck and elegant poise suggested Swan.

'Coming right up' he gave his best winning smile and got to it, slipping her an Apple crumble cookie to sweeten the deal. She looked at it as if the Cinnamon Sugar was Arsenic and the calories would hunt her down. Which was a bit much, they were good, Bren knew they were good, he baked them himself. She snatched it up though, and, after a glug of her coffee managed a fleeting smile, sailing back out of the cafe her smart shoes clacking on the old wooden floor beams.

Bren sighed. They got a lot of commuters in the early morning, pressed buisness suits and sharp manners. He prefered the casual shoppers, the old stalwarts, the young families when they were behaving, romancing couples, lone figures seeking sanctuary. And Mr Gingernuts.

Abby had named him that, they'd giggled, speculated, and it stuck. The man's hair was a deep rich auburn with darker streaks, his skin a carmel tan with just a tease of freckles; he either spent a lot of time outdoors or was born with really good genes. His jeans were painted on, caressing a very nice grippable butt, and his voice resonant...wait his voice!

'Another coffee please'
'Almond milk, hazelnut syrup?' Bren blinked rapidly and failed not to stare, the man as always seemed oblivious to his interest.
'Please, and crumpets today' it had been English muffins yesterday, but one thing didn't change. 'Peanut butter?'
'yes please' his lips curved in a light smile. Not that Bren was staring. Much.
'I'll bring them over'

Bren could talk to anyone, he chatted with his elderly customers; could name all of Hilda's grand-Owlets, always remember to ask what that Dora's youngest Danny-dog was up to in college this week. Old grumpy Badger Ben even brought him fresh produce from his allotment and had called him 'a good lad' last week. He made the little ones laugh, more than one frazzled parent had told him they came here as much for the calm he brought as the great coffee and cookies. But this man, this man stole his speach.

What was it? Abby, friend, confident and buisness partner, teased him mercilessly. Bren couldn't work it out. The man was ok looking, average height and a little chubby all told. Abby had pointed this out; Bren had been stuck on 'eyes of onyx' sounding, she said, like an adorkably infatuated teenager writing a bad fantasy romance, badly. Which wasn't in the least bit accurate. He was in his late thirties thank you very much!

He had presence. Bren decided, following resolve and adding one of his new batch of cookies to the tray. It was a day for free cookies, bleak and drizzly out, tentative and dreamy within. Mr Gingernuts exuded power, somehow. There was an assuredness about him, sense of knowing about his gaze. Not that he ever seemed to know the effect he had on Bren. Bren had once seen the Bear clan nod to him differentially then sit quiet, he'd been coming from the back kitchen with a wet rag ready to whip big rowdy butts into shape, but they'd nodded at the corner table then sat meek as the day, even remembered their please and thank yous.

A wry smile and Mr Gingernuts had returned to the big dusty book he was reading. he had a fancy new tablet too but more often wrote or sketched in a large hardbound book, as he was doing now.

'Coffee and crumpets' Bren smiled trying to catch a glimpse. It looked like the sketch of a person but his customer sighed, nostrils flaring a little and closed the book, pushing it along the table before he could see.

'I added a cookie, made some mixed nuts ones I thought you might like' oh hell, make it obvious he'd baked with this man in mind. They both stared at the little plate, glossy peanuts and darker almonds pushing through light fluffy batter.
'How much?'
'Oh no! it's from me!'

The cookie was studied again, which was heavy consideration for a little treat.
'Perhaps you could join me?'

Bren sat in the indicated chair.

https://youtu.be/2REkk9SCRn0

Little video, so sweet.

A nice long walk, made some bossy feathered friends who nearly followed me into the car, strimmed the garden, relaxed in front of Chimera bbq.
...well after I made coffee, lit Chimera, lit candle in jar - had hubby try sitting on candle and knock coffee over me.
Set hubby guarding Chimera, make pot salad, salad, defrost stuff, re-lit the Chimera, micro-waved my coffee, re-lit Chimera (again) grabbed some foil and mallows. Sat. Nipped back in for coffee. Eat, drank, chilled.

Through the trees.  Castle from the chapel, panarama of chapel on the hill, stream enroute to castle, bossy feathered friends with a lot to say, Chimera burning.