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 Posted: Sat Nov 24, 2007 4:22 pm
It was, as far as Laura was concerned, a perfect day. She had finished her work early, and the weather was lovely, as was the time of day. It was early evening, when the day's heat had begun to fade but the sun had not yet followed it. She had changed into sweatpants and a worn, oversized white T-shirt, both of which were enormously comfortable, and had resolved to spend the day in her backyard, under the shade of a large and ill-kempt oak.
In fact, her whole yard was the picture of happy neglect. The grass was rather overgrown, though still green - she had installed a sprinkler system in the hopes that it would keep things alive - the flowers had grown on their own initiative and consisted mostly of pretty weeds, and a hive of fairly benign honeybees swarmed in the far corner of her yard, minding their own business. She wouldn't have had it any other way. Everyone needed a little bit of friendly chaos in her life, her in particular.
Laura curled her legs up to her chest, nestled safely between two thick roots, and tilted her head back, resting it against the rough bark of the tree. She shut her eyes, enjoying the moment. The tree rustled. Off in the distance, probably in some more appealing yard, a bird sang. Leftover water from the sprinklers seeped in through the seat of her pants, but she was far too content to care.
She sighed, opening her eyes and glancing down. A leaf had found its way onto her lap, although the wind wasn’t blowing that way, oddly enough. She frowned and brushed it off; it wavered in the air for a moment and then made its wobbling way back onto her lap. Laura studied it, puzzled. …No, the wind was not blowing that way at all.
Peculiar though the little leaf was, Laura was tired, and not quite intrigued enough by this little blip in physics to investigate further. She settled back again, allowing the leaf to enjoy the night with her.
A quiet half-hour passed, and Laura, who had gotten too cold and whose pants had gotten too wet, stood up to go back inside. She dusted off her clothes and crossed the yard to return to her house, not at all noticing the little leaf trailing her until it had swept in through the door behind her. It abandoned all pretences of leafiness now and hovered in front of her, demanding to be noticed. Laura studied it for a moment, wondering what one was supposed to do with a possessed leaf.
“…Huh,” she said at last, breaking into a crooked smile. “Well, aren’t you a strange little fellow?” The leaf, which didn’t seem to find itself at all strange, shivered in response and let itself drift to the floor, apparently exhausted by its display of peculiarity.
Laura picked it up and twirled it gently by its stem. “Seems I’ve got a new friend,” she said to herself, smiling as she wondered what her patients would have said if they saw her now.
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Posted: Sat Nov 24, 2007 5:30 pm
Laura tapped her pencil against the edge of her desk, trying to think of a good way to tell her journal she had lost her mind. It wasn't really the sort of thing she wanted to admit, but there were no rational, sane reasons to befriend a leaf. Still, she couldn't see the point in keeping a journal if she lied about her life or omitted certain details, so she had to mention it. She sighed, and began to write. Maybe leaving a paper trail would help her understand whatever mental disorder she had later.
Dear Diary,
A leaf followed me home today. I'm not sure why, or what I ought to do with it, or even if it followed me at all. The whole thing might've been a funny coincidence that I'm blowing out of proportion. Some strange things happened, or at least I thought they were strange - do leaves float on their own? Maybe there was an air current I didn't feel? Maybe there was something relevant in all those physics lessons that went over my head?
But there's this...feeling, I guess. It feels like something strange is happening. Which doesn't help my case, really, as that's likely just part of some strange delusion, but I can't shake it. The leaf seems almost sentient, in a way. Like it knows what's going on.
It's certainly not making things any easier to figure out, though. It's been acting like a perfectly normal leaf ever since I put it on the counter after coming in; I haven't been able to get so much as a quiver out of it. In fact, the only time it hasn't acted like a perfectly normal leaf was when I came in, and then a bit before that outside. Maybe I'm imagining the whole thing? ...Well, of course I am, but I wonder why?
Maybe I should get a dog. I'm going crazy staying in this house alone.
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Posted: Sat Dec 15, 2007 1:02 pm
Laura awoke to the shrill screech of her alarm clock. Squinting and muttering obscenities, she fumbled with the buttons on top, trying to figure out the right one without actually opening her eyes. After a few failed attempts, she got the noise to stop, or it gave up on her and stopped on its own; she couldn’t tell.
Still not fully conscious, she staggered down the hallway and into the bathroom. She was in the habit of taking her showers with the lights off, as it felt nearly like sleep (albeit very wet sleep), and so finding the handle in the dark took some more clumsy groping. At last, hot water came on with a hiss. Laura shut her eyes, melting under the steaming jet of water, the groggy veil of sleep parting. Lovely, she thought to herself, and then her mind shut off for the next twenty minutes, returning only to allow her to shampoo her hair.
She left the bathroom wearing a terry bathrobe, her dark hair wrapped in some sort of complex towel structure. “Mnnf,” she mumbled, scrutinizing herself in the hall mirror. Clothes…she probably needed clothes. She stumbled off in search of them, first to her room, which had plenty of clothes but very few clean ones, and then to her closet, which was better supplied. She picked out something that looked professional to her, pulled it on, and checked to make sure nothing was misbuttoned or inside-out. Her hair had a tendency to cement into something horrible when left too long inside the towel, so she let it down and dragged a brush through her wet curls.
Now breakfast. What did she want for breakfast? Pancakes. But she would have had to make them, and she had neither the time nor the inclination to do so. Bagel. That worked. She liked bagels. There were several bagels in the fridge.
Laura grabbed one from a bag of those miniature half-baked blueberry bagels, and bit into it immediately. It probably would have tasted better and less squishy after going through the toaster, but she was too sleepy and hungry to be bothered. She surveyed the kitchen, chewing lazily on the lump of wet almost-dough. Something seemed to be missing, but she couldn’t quite place it. It looked all right; the place a bit of a mess, as always, but nothing struck her as unusual. One of the cabinets was still open from dinner last night, and the sink was full of dirty water and encrusted pots and pans that had needed soaking. Then there was the bag of bagels she had just taken out, and- anything else? She frowned in thought, trying to remember. There ought to be a leaf on the counter.
She walked across the floor, the kitchen tiles cold against her bare feet, and searched the counter for it. Ordinarily she wouldn’t have cared – it was just a leaf, after all – but leaves didn’t simply run off in the night, and…well, she liked this one. Where could it have gone? The doors and windows to the kitchen had all been shut, so it couldn’t have wandered off to a different room or returned outside. Laura sighed in exasperation and shoved a clump of hair out of her face. She was running late; she didn’t have time for this –
A movement in the sink caught her eye. A couple tiny bubbles rose to the surface, complete with equally tiny blipping sounds when they popped. She stared for a moment, then went to investigate. The little leaf was in the sink; in fact, it was defying physics again by floating contentedly in the center of the water, rather than on the surface as nature would have it. Laura gave a startled laugh, then reached in to pull out the little fellow. It tugged away, trying to resist.
“Oh, stop it,” she said. “That water’s filthy. I’ll get you something cleaner.”
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Posted: Sat Dec 15, 2007 1:16 pm
Dear Diary,
Something is definitely very wrong with either me or the leaf. I found it in the sink this morning, where I left the stuff from last night? The sink was full of water and all the junk off the pots and pans, and apparently made a good swimming pool. That's what it's doing, I think - swimming. Only not really, because it's not moving much in the water, but still. Maybe it's only thirsty, but couldn't it stay on surface for that?
Anyway, I washed it off and put it in a big bowl on the counter, and it was still there when I got home this evening. Hopefully it didn't get sick from being in the sink. Can leaves even get sick? Am I crazy for worrying about all this in the first place?
I'm still getting that feeling from it, though. I know I'm probably imagining the whole thing, but...well, it can't hurt, can it? And even if it turns out that this whole thing is in my head, there's not much I can do about it. Besides, it's nice to have some company, even if it's not technically real. The leaf's a good roommate, too. Never dumps its stuff on the floor, never leaves the toilet seat up, never eats all the food. I guess this isn't such a bad thing, all in all.
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Posted: Sat Dec 15, 2007 3:44 pm
Shouko surveyed the house before her. More leaves had finally arrived on the wind, all at once like when she had been born, and one had arrived here. She smiled and made her way up the front walk, eying the doorbell as she placed a flowerpot on the steps.
"I wonder what'll come of you," she told it, tucking a letter into the soil before making her exit.The Letter Dear Miss Emmerson,
A little birdie told me you found one of our leaves recently. We're an organization called The Eden Project, and your leaf is a very special one. If you take good care of it, it will develop into a child. I've attached a flowerpot and special soil that will help it along its way. If you have any questions, give us a call or stop by our headquarters in Barton.
Good luck!
~Shouko
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Posted: Mon Dec 31, 2007 8:57 pm
Laura stepped out of the car, her heels clicking one after the other on the cold cement. She drew a breath of icy air, shivered, and hurried to the door, waddling like a penguin under her oversized coat. It was warm and extremely comfortable, even slightly fashionable, but also made it nigh impossible to walk. She stumbled up the steps without major incident, and was fumbling for her keys in a kangaroo-esque side pocket when she noticed a package waiting for her on her doorstep.
Or, no, not a package, a flowerpot. Dirt included. Laura stared at it for a moment, baffled, then bent into an awkward crouch to examine it. It seemed to be perfectly ordinary, except for the fact that someone had put it on her doorstep for some unfathomable reason. An edge of white caught her eye past the enormous collar of her coat, and she reached for it, pulling a slip of paper out of the soil. Well…all right then. At least she got an explanation. She shoved the note in her pocket, and then picked up the little orange pot and brought it in with her, intending to read the note somewhere warmer and figure out why her flowerless house now needed a flowerpot.
Laura set down it on the counter next to the leaf – it shivered slightly, but she was too distracted to notice. Settling down on her overstuffed sofa, she fished the note out of her coat and smoothed it out before scanning the contents. Okay…her leaf was special, that was a relief. She wasn’t insane, then, or at the very least she was a very dedicated maniac who was willing to take the time to write confusing letters to herself. She would’ve hated to be some wishy-washy one.
She read further, and paled suddenly. What, wait, child? Her little leaf was becoming a child? Why? She knew these sorts of thing happened, because it was Gaia and it was unreasonable to expect them not to, but they didn’t happen to her! She had a job, she was a professional – okay, perhaps not a professional in every sense of the word, but she was busy, she didn’t have time for a child! Maybe…maybe a goldfish or something for company, or an especially agreeable roommate, but not some messy little beast who sprang out of a leaf and destroyed her house, all the while wailing for Cheerios. Kids were cute and all, and she liked them well enough when they belonged to other people, but her? Was she even responsible enough for a child? Would its development be stunted in some way from growing up in her house? Maybe children needed some semblance of order so they had something to disrupt. What if she made some kind of…of fatal mistake and scarred her child for life without even knowing it?
Laura turned around and glared at her leaf, which was floating innocently in its bowl of water. “How long have you been planning this without telling me?” she demanded. It wriggled merrily in reply, either oblivious to or amused by her wrath. She sighed and rested her head back against the back of her sofa, shutting her eyes. Suddenly, she really wanted a bowl of Cap’n Crunch, or something else equally sugary and nostalgic.
There had to be a law against children raising children.
With more than a little reluctance, she dragged herself off of the sofa and into the kitchen. If her leaf needed dirt to become a child, then she had better get it in the dirt.
“Hey, you,” she greeted it, with a kind of resigned affection. The leaf – or child, or leaf-fetus-baby, or whatever it was supposed to be – swished around a bit. “Well, I’m planting you. In that pot. Unless you knew about that, in which case…well, you really should have warned me.” The leaf seemed unapologetic, so she gave up conversation and scooped it out, gently patting it dry and then digging a little hollow for it. It was extremely unhappy with all of this, and made it known.
“Oh, don’t be that way. The letter told me – hey, stop it!” she cried, trying unsuccessfully to grab a hold of her leaf, which, although dry, was not nearly dry enough to be caught. “Well, I’m sorry that you don’t like the dirt, but the water won’t work, you need to be planted if you want to – listen to me! Okay, fine, we’ll water the dirt, we’ll water it a lot, you’ll be fine – ” The leaf hesitated for a moment, either to consider the offer or plot a new route of escape, and she snatched it out of the air with a whoop of triumph. “Got you! Arright, into the pot we go…”
Laura wrestled the leaf into the dirt and got it mostly covered, until all it could do was wriggle pitifully. She turned on the water and flooded the pot with it until the little fellow calmed down, then set it aside with a sigh of relief.
“See, now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” she said, hoping she had done it right. She could just picture having accidentally drowned the leaf and botched the whole thing.
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Posted: Mon Dec 31, 2007 9:15 pm
Dear Diary,
I know, I know, be careful what you wish for. Altho, I would like to point out that I never actually wished for this. I wished for a dog, or something like that, and even that was more a musing than a wish, and I certainly never asked for my leaf to turn into a child. That's just...honestly, that's the kind of thing you should only get with a very specific, very impassioned wish. A Pinocchio kind of wish, not an "oh wouldn't that be nice."
But, okay, so I have a kid now. Or will. I guess it's like...leaf-pregnancy. I've got no idea what I'm going to do with it. I mean, I can't just quit my job, and I'd make a rotten mother. I could probably get time off, I guess, although this would be hard to explain, and then I could work part-time so I'd only be out while it's in school...maybe I could be a school counselor? Would that work? I like my job, though, and I've worked hard to get it.
How soon is this going to happen? Is it going to hatch, or be birthed, or whatever it's called, very soon? I need time, I need to get ready. Like I'm ever going to be ready. Maybe I just need to get it over with and get started dealing with it.
I have...kind of mixed feelings, though. I'm happy, too. I mean, I really like kids. They're sweet, I get along with them and they get along with me. I'm sure I'm not ready for this, but it's not such a bad thing. I mean, yes, my leaf is spontaneously mutating into a child, but that's not so bad. A little strange, maybe, a little unexpected, but I can handle it. Sure.
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Posted: Sat Jan 26, 2008 11:28 am
Inside the earthy smelling clay pot the small leaf had begun to grow. As it grew the leaf started to change as well, gaining a hint of gold colouring and what looked like scale markings on one half. Throughout out all of this there had also been fierce wriggling in an attempt to be free of the dirt encasing it.
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Posted: Sat Jan 26, 2008 11:53 am
Laura came in from the cold, shutting the door behind her with a click. Whistling merrily and greeting her new roommate, she tossed the keys onto the counter, where they landed with a series of metallic chinks. It had been a good day, and she was happy and more than a little distracted, and thus did not notice that her leaf was possessed again until she had nearly left the kitchen.
She wasn't too concerned when she first noticed it, because wriggling was just the sort of thing her leaf did. Maybe not usually with this level of violence, but still, no cause for alarm.
"Hey, baby. What's the matter?" she asked, coming to the counter and peering down. As it turned out, quite a lot was the matter; her little friend was growing, growing faster than leaves ought to, and she seemed slightly yellow. Yellow, wasn't that the between stage for green and brown? Didn't leaves die when they were brown? And what on earth was wrong with its skin?
"Okay, hang on, sweetheart, I'll fix it-" Laura told it frantically, more for her own benefit than its. What was wrong? Too much water? But her leaf had been in nothing but water for some time and had seemed fine. Too little water? Was that it? Could she actually add more water without turning the soil into a thin mud soup? She ran the water anyway, watching her leaf anxiously and trying to decide whether to put it under the stream.
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Posted: Sat Jan 26, 2008 1:33 pm
The sound of water seemed to encourage the leaf to continue it's efforts to free itself from it's wet earthly confine. It's developing scales grew more define with each passing moment as did it's size. Then suddenly the leaf was free and flopping about like a fish on top of the freshly upturned soil.
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Posted: Sat Jan 26, 2008 1:50 pm
The water only seemed to make things worse. Or better, maybe? Was her leaf supposed to do this? It wasn't a normal plant, so maybe it was supposed to go berserk every once in a while. All the same, its frantic movement scared her. Did it want to get out, or was it in pain?
Laura gave a cry and jumped back as the leaf uprooted itself and continued to flail upon the pot. Okay, it had wanted out. She stared at it, too confused to try anything. Was she supposed to put it under the water, or hold it, or was it handling things by itself?
"Hey, what're you doing?" she asked, trying to sound more concerned than nervous. "Are you sick?" Or was this how the child came out? She bit her lip, wishing that it had a less dramatic way of coming into the world.
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Posted: Sat Jan 26, 2008 2:02 pm
The scales had completely encased the growing leaf by this point, and water only seemed to make it grow faster. A thin line of finlike material appeared down the dorsal region of the quickly-bloating piece of plant matter, and a moment later it split neatly open to reveal a serene looking toddler.
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Posted: Sat Jan 26, 2008 2:53 pm
Laura watched in horrified fascination as the scaly leaf continued to swell and grow, now looking more like a bizarre aquatic cocoon than a leaf, and held her breath as a thin line ran down the center. It fell open, and-
"Ohh," she breathed, staring at the little girl on the counter. The child yawned and smiled benignly, apparently unaware of the ruckus she had caused. She adjusted herself so that that her tail fin was under the faucet and made a contented sound, resting back on her palms.
"You like the water, huh?" Laura asked, smiling in spite of herself. She hadn't exactly expected a child who was half fish, but who could be upset by a mermaid?
"Wayuh," the girl pronounced, then made a happy, burbling baby sound to express her approval.
"Yeah," Laura said, and then scooped up the little mermaid. "Let's get you set up with a bed, okay? You must be beat, getting out of your leaf like that."
She didn't say anything, but the child seemed to be amenable to the idea. She curled in toward her, eyes half-open, and Laura, feeling suddenly motherly, smoothed the white gold hair out of her face. There were no doubt plenty of things that needed worrying about, but at that moment she couldn't think of a single one.
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Posted: Sat Jan 26, 2008 10:09 pm
With the little girl asleep in the guest bedroom - or nursery now, she supposed - Laura haunted the kitchen, periodically going over to the counter and turning over the crumpled halves of the scaly leaf. She found them vaguely disturbing, like some kind of weird marine placenta, but was too distracted to actually do anything with them.
Laura had been wandering aimlessly for about twenty minutes, feeling bewildered and happy and too tired to think very hard about it all, when the phone rang. She sprinted over and snatched up the phone before it could ring again and wake up the baby.
"Hello?"
"Laura!" cried a voice over the line, young and cheerful.
"Hey, Rachel!" she replied, relieved and grateful for the distraction. Something about talking with her sister put things in perspective.
"How are you? Haven't talked to you in a few days."
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I've been busy."
"Oh, that's fine, don't worry about it. What's going on?"
"Well, um..." Laura hesitated, trying to think of something other than her new child to talk about, at least until she had thought of a way to explain it. Try as she might, there was very little else occupying her mind. "Well, I have a baby."
There was silence on the line for a moment, and then her sister's voice exploded again, delighted and indignant and somehow not at all surprised. "A baby?! You had a baby? Who's the daddy? Why didn't you tell me before? I'm your sister, I ought to know these things - you know, you're very good at hiding the tummy-"
"No! She's not mine! I mean, she is, but I didn't give birth to her, she just...she just kind of showed up. I got a leaf, and then a note, and now-"
"Well, why didn't you tell me? Did you know she was coming?" Rachel demanded, still offended.
"Sort of. The note talked about it, but I wasn't sure if any of it was real or if I was just going nuts, so I figured I wouldn't try to explain it to anyone until I had a better story."
"You, nuts? Perish the thought," she replied, and Laura could almost hear her grinning over the phone. "So, what's her name? What's she look like?"
"She's- well, she's a mermaid, or something like that," Laura tried, not entirely sure of the answer herself. "She has gills. Do mermaids have gills? I don't think the little mermaid had gills."
"Yeah, but the little mermaid was anatomically messed up anyway. Don't use her as a model. So, name? You have named her, right?"
"Not yet. I figured that naming a leaf would be like admitting that I was insane, and I haven't been able to think at all today." Laura leaned against the counter, frowning to herself. "I need to do that, don't I? I can't just leave her without a name."
"You do! I'm making you name her tonight, right now."
"I would, but...well, I don't know. I can't think of anything."
Her sister lapsed into thoughtful silence for a moment. "You should name her Naida!" she proclaimed suddenly, with all the certainty and volume as if it were the word of God.
"What? No! I'm not going to name her some random thing that popped into your head."
"Why not? You said yourself you couldn't think of anything. Anyway, it's a good name. I like that name."
"But-"
"Just call her that until you think of something better."
"I can't do that. I can't just tell her that suddenly her name changed because I thought of something better."
"Fine, then keep calling her that. It's a good name."
"Mnn," Laura said noncommittally. "So, how are-"
"Momma?" a small voice called from down the hall. Laura winced. Momma?
"Sorry, I have to go."
"By all means. I'll talk to you later."
"Okay, see you."
"Call her Naida!"
"Bye, Rachel," Laura said, grinning. She hung up the phone, feeling somehow better about all of it. "What is it, baby?" she called back down the hall, walking over to the girl's room and opening the door.
"Wayuh," she said plaintively, then added, "T'drink," sticking out a small pink tongue to clarify.
"Alright, sweetie, I'll get you a drink," Laura said, turning to go. Before she left, she hesitated, looking back at the little girl. "Hey, how do you feel about the name Naida?"
The child smiled agreeably and wriggled her tail slightly, which was confirmation enough for Laura. "Naida it is, then," she said, smiling back. "Okay, now let's get that water."
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Posted: Tue May 27, 2008 8:03 pm
Sledding! As it were, in the midsts of winter, many outrageous sports were invented. One of which was sledding. The theory was that by using your own weight to propel yourself (on top of a bit of plastic) you could go down a hill at rapid speed, and thus, amuse yourself. Monty didn't see the point in it, not really, but it was something that she often did with her family before. It was fun, kids loved it, so naturally Regina would like it, too, wouldn't she?
Well... Hypothesis proven wrong. Regina, scowling at the piece of plastic quietly, absolutely refused to succumb to such a whim and go down a hill in a piece of plastic, with no control but a rope. "No." She said solemnly, looking at Monty and narrowing her eyes when Monty tried to argue. "No." She repeated adamantly, growling. Monty sighed, and rubbed her eyes, picking up the neon-green sled and using it as a sort of leaning post.
"I don't see what you're afraid of, Regina. It's fun! Look!" She waved her arm avidly at the kids who were also sledding, and laughing and having a blast. Regina looked at the children, arched an eyebrow, and looked back at Monty.
"... No." She snorted, and sat down, crossing her legs and arms and sitting with a glowering face. "Stupid." Monty winced, and fumed. A word she'd picked up from her cousin, of course, and one that Monty was quickly becoming tired of.
"Regina, we don't say words like that."
Regina looked at her pointedly, and arched an eyebrow in a true display of contempt. "Stupid." She repeated pointedly, looking at the kids again. She saw a kid slide down the hill, and crash into a tree, and her eyes went wide. She pointed. "See! See!? Stupid!" On the ground, Regina's arms flailed about a little as she explained how stupid the child was.
Monty sighed, and put the sled down, sitting on it. "Fine, Regina. We'll sit here and be boring."
"'Kay." Regina nodded sagely, and sat as she was. In the snow. With her legs and arms crossed, and her ears perked up. Oh yes, she would sit it out. One did not try to out-sit Regina, oh no. It was on.
Laura staggered through the snow, panting under the weight of the sled and the little girl hanging on to her back. Naida was bundled in a soft pink sweater which Laura had thought was cute, and a pair of heavily mutilated orange snowpants, which Laura had also thought were cute, but hadn't realized looked terrible with the sweater until she had already cut them up. With her tail wrapped up in waterproof fabric, she looked like nothing so much as an enormous caterpillar.
"So - what do you - want to do?" Laura asked between gasps, mounting the hill at last.
"Wanna sled," Naida replied patiently, adjusting her hold on Laura's neck. Of course she wanted to sled. That was what she had been doing in the hallway, albeit with more water and less snow, and that was why they were here.
"Yeah, but where d'you want to go?" Laura asked, beginning to get her breath back. She surveyed the hill, looking for a free spot where Naida would be unlikely to crash into either trees or other children.
"There," she said immediately, pointing a stubby finger off to the right. Laura looked over to the decided spot and frowned.
"No, baby, there's already a little girl there. She's using it, see?"
Naida shook her head, forehead crinkling with confusion. That was wrong. She wasn't using it. She was just sitting there, and she could sit while Naida sledded.
Laura sighed, her breath clouding in the cold air. "Fine, we'll see if she'll share with us. But you need to be good if she says no, okay?" she relented, mostly because there didn't seem to be another good spot and she didn't want to give up after dragging the sled up the hill.
She stumped off through the snow to the little girl and her mother, Naida happily clinging to her neck and swishing her tail. "Hey, do you think we could join you?" Laura asked, smiling apologetically.
Monty had as much pride when it came to arguments that Regina seemed to have, and while they sat there, glaring each other down and fighting without actually fighting, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe that was her influence, or just her sheer luck playing a part. Regina's ears swiveled backwards as far as they could, she could hear snow crunching under someone's feet. She turned to look appraisingly at their guest, and actually did a doubletake when she saw the girl on the woman's back.
Monty looked up when she spotted the figures coming towards them, and offered a wide and friendly smile. "Oh, sure! Feel free." She said, grinning at the woman in understanding. A fellow mother taking her tot out for a sled, it was cute. Why couldn't Regina like sledding, again? She looked at Regina, and then back at Laura, smiling. "I'm Monty." She introduced. "And this is Regina. Gina, say hi."
"'Lo." Gina said in a low voice, watching Naida curiously. She rose from the snow, brushing herself off, and went over to Laura, stopping in front of her. "Gina." She held out a hand, like she'd seen Monty do to a stranger. It was polite. Monty bit back a grin at Regina's manners, and looked amused. Until Regina opened her mouth again.
"Whossat?" She nodded to Naida, frowning curiously. Monty blinked, and hit her forehead.
"Gina, that's not polite."
"Said who, not what." She emphasized, rolling her eyes at Monty as if that made it polite. Because it did. Duh. Then she looked at Laura, waiting for an answer. Impatient little puppy, isn't she?
"Oh, thank you," Laura said, smiling. "It's just so crowded today..."
The dark-haired little girl held out her hand, and Laura adjusted Naida on her back and reached down to firmly return the handshake. It was cute, but she imagined the girl didn't think so.
"Hello! Nice to meet you, Gina, Monty," she said, nodding to each in turn. "I'm Laura, and this is Naida. You said hi too, Naida," she added, lifting the little girl down into the snow, where she sat on top of her tail, hanging onto Laura's pant leg for balance.
"H'lo," Naida said, smiling. "My tail issa fish," she told Regina quickly, something which she was just beginning to realize was unusual and was now extremely proud of.
"So, were you two going to sled?" Laura asked, looking down at the plastic sled they had brought. It didn't look like the little girl had much interest in it, but she figured she had better ask all the same.
Monty nodded in understanding, grinning a little. "We got here earlier, we were lucky to snag a nice spot." Monty replied, looking around. "Probably the last bit of snow, that's why it's so crowded, I think." She nodded sagely, then grinned at Laura again.
"Tail?" Regina's brown eyes grew wide and curious, and her nose twitched in a sniff. "Can I see?" Taking matters into her own hands, Regina went right behind Laura, to investigate this girl's 'fish tail'. If, in fact, it was a fish tail, and not just some silly costume with two legs stuffed in it. "Nice meet'chu." She said to Laura from behind her, remembering her manners a bit later than she meant to. But she remembered, and that's what counted.
Monty looked down at the sled she was sitting on, and snorted a little. "I was hopin' to, but Regina doesn't seem all that interested in it." She said honestly, both shoulders lifting and dropping in a meek shrug. "I tried, though." She grinned sheepishly.
Regina heard the mention of a 'sled', and rolled her eyes a little, snorting. "Stupid." She mumbled, crossing her arms and investigating Naida curiously. She did appear to have a tail wrapped up in that orange thing, at least it looked like it. Or maybe she just looked like a caterpillar with it on. "Look like a bug." She informed Naida, nodding sagely. Monty heard it, and fumed a little.
"Gina!"
"She does!" Regina insisted, ears flattening sheepishly. She didn't mean harm by it, really, but she did look like a bug to Regina. "Sorry." She mumbled at Naida, feeling the Maternal Glare of Doom coming from Monty. It was creepy.
Laura laughed and nodded understandingly. "Naida discovered yesterday that the floors were slippery enough to slide on when they were wet, so I figured I'd better take her out here before she tried it again," she explained, looking down at the little girl.
"Yes," Naida told Regina, but she was already looking at her tail so she guessed she didn't really need to. She wriggled it to prove that it was really a tail, and giggled at her comment. "Really?" she asked, pleased with the idea. "I like bugs." She had eaten one once, but that had been bad so she didn't tell about it. It hadn't tasted good, anyway, so she didn't like bugs to eat.
"S'okay," she said in response to the apology, although she wasn't sure why Regina was sorry. Maybe that was a bad thing to say.
Naida looked down at her sled, mildly conflicted. She wanted to sled, because it was a fun thing to do, but she wanted to play, too, because there weren't other little girls at Laura's house, and Regina didn't want to sled. "Whatchoo like t'do?" she asked, figuring that there were only snowy things to do here, and snow was slippery in general, so whatever she wanted to do would involve slipping.
Monty grinned and nodded a little, amused. "I'm lucky so far, Gina hasn't found much in the way of trouble yet." She rubbed her neck, shrugging again. "Worst thing is she's got fangs." She hooked a finger into the side of her mouth, baring her teeth, and pointing at the canines and molars. "Righ' 'ere." She let go of her mouth. "She chews on things like crazy."
"Bugs are okay." Regina nodded solemnly, then grinned. And the only word that could properly describe this grin was malicious. "Monny's got repitails." She nodded sagely. "They go like this." She wiggled her finger like a worm. "And one crawls reeeal slow." Regina grinned at Naida. Regina watched her glance down at the sled, and then shrugged when asked what she liked to do. "Bite things." She put her hand in her mouth and chomped down to emphasize.
She winced, and took her hand out of her mouth, shaking it as discreetly as she could. "You want to sled." It wasn't a question, so much as an observation. Then she nodded to the hill. "It's fun." Yes, this coming from the girl who was so adamantly against the idea of careening down a hill at a crazy and uncontrolled speed. "You sled." She smiled at her, folding her hands behind her back.
"Why don't you go down the hill too, Gina?" Monty said, smirking a little. "So Naida doesn't have to go down alone."
Regina's ears perked up, and then flattened. She glared at her guardian, then reached up and rubbed her ears. "If she wants me too." She muttered, working so hard to keep the whine out of her voice. If Naida said so, she would. She was pretty obedient about it, even if it looked dangerous and silly.
For the fish-tailed girl, she'd sled.
Even though it was a really stupid hobby.
"Oh? Good thing she only bites things, then," Laura said, smiling. "A friend of mine has a little boy who bites anyone who gets near him, and I imagine he'd be a terror if he could do any damage."
Naida listened intently, rocking back on her tail. She didn't know what a repitail was, but it sounded funny. She thought maybe it was some kind of bug, because bugs crawled too and weren't fast at all, but then wouldn't she have just called them bugs? Maybe repitails was just a better word for it, like a grown-up word.
Then she bit herself, and Naida frowned because that didn't seem like something she would like. It didn't look like Regina liked it either, because she had been hurt when it happened, but maybe she just didn't like biting her hand.
Naida smiled when the topic of sleds came up, wriggling the end of her tail a little with pleasure. Powdery snow piled up on either side of it, creating a kind of tail angel. She did want to sled. Sledding was fun. Was Regina going to sled with her, maybe?
"I want you t'sled with me," she said, smiling widely. "I like you!" She reached back and clutched the fraying rope attached to the sled, happily tugging it closer to her. Naida had unearthed it in the garage, and immediately rejected the new plastic sled Laura had bought on the grounds that it was red, and the aging wooden sled was blue. Of a sort - it was faded and chipped in places, and no longer really qualified as completely blue. All the same, Naida was in love with it and it had seemed solid enough, and so Laura had brought it, feeling vaguely guilty about letting her child ride a sled in such sorry shape.
"This's my sled," Naida proclaimed, gesturing toward it grandly. "It's blue."
"I really hope she grows out of it," Monty said sheepishly, snorting. "I don't know if I can keep everything out of her reach as she gets older." Monty smiled a little, glancing at Naida off to the side. "Sliding about on a wet floor's the worst offense with her?" She asked, grinning a little.
Regina's ears flattened when Naida had confirmed that yes, she wanted her to sled with her, and sighed a little. Maybe if she hadn't added the 'I like you', Regina could've been bratted. But that just flew out of the window then. "Then I'll sled wit'chu." She said, nodding meekly. She spotted the blue sled, and blinked, then grinned wide. "It's very blue." She agreed, nodding. Then she looked at the sled Monty was sitting on, and scowled a little.
"That's my sled." She mumbled ruefully, going over to The Big Green Neon Monster and kicking it pointedly. Monty blinked, and snorted at Gina, getting up.
"Don't be so pushy."
"I dinn' push you." Regina pointed out snidely, picking up the sled as much she could and balancing it up. Unfortunately, she counterbalanced herself, and down she went. The sled came down ontop of her, and then slid off to the side. Flattened into the snow, Regina blinked, and sat up. Snow clung to her ears, which flicked on instinct, and she scowled a little. "Stupid sled."
"Gina, that's not a nice word."
"Not nice." Regina shook her head. "True." She grumbled, and got up, yanking on the rope with the sled. She looked at Naida, and then at the hill. "You go first?" Stupid neon green monster, stupid hill...
"Well, more like getting everything wet to make for better sliding," Laura said, smiling. "Naida hasn't really grasped the idea that not everyone likes water as much as she does yet."
Naida smiled happily and nodded, mittens tightening around the rope of her sled. "Okay," she said, then added "thank you," because that was what she was supposed to say when somebody did something nice, and Regina didn't want to go sledding, so that meant it was a nice thing to do it anyway. "We can bite things after," she offered, figuring she ought to return the favor.
She watched Regina's sled intently, slightly afraid of it. It was bigger and brighter and greener than hers, and looked less tired. Maybe that was a good thing for a sled, though, so it could go down the hill right. Or maybe it was an evil sled.
Then Regina picked it up and it lunged and tried to eat her! Naida gave a little cry of surprise and leaned away from it, eyes wide. Gina didn't seem especially frightened by the attack, but maybe she hadn't realized what her sled had been doing-
"Okay," Naida replied, her thoughts interrupted by the question. She frowned slightly, wondering if the big green sled would eat Gina when she went down afterward. "Go with me?" she asked, smiling hopefully. She wasn't that big, and Regina wasn't that big, and the blue sled was pretty big, so maybe they could all go together.
Monty grinned a little, and nodded. "Give her time." She laughed a little. "Regina hasn't gotten into anything like that yet." She mused, watching the Doberman child flick her ears nervously. "Except for the biting." She added, snorting a little. And she'd already had that little talk with Regina.
Regina blinked when Naida offered to bite things after, and grinned a little, baring her teeth in what she thought was a friendly grin. Unfortunately, it probably looked more menacing than friendly. "We don't hafta." She said, shrugging her shoulders. "Biting things isn't for everyone." She realized that after trying to force Monty into chewing on something with her, and Monty explained that not everyone liked to bite things like she did. Which was just weird.
After flicking the snow off her ears, and wiping it off her as best she could, Regina picked up the question. She blinked, and then grinned again, and nodded. "'Kay." She said, going over to her sled. It looked friendlier. And not neon-fricking-green. "You wanna be in front?" She offered, looking over at Naida and grinning a little at her.
Monty watched the interaction, and couldn't help grinning when she saw Regina grin. It wasn't something she did lots of, mostly she scowled or growled at people. It was cute.
Laura nodded, grinning. "Hopefully the house will be a little drier when she's older," she said, chuckling. "I guess these are the sorts of things that make good stories when they're grown up, though."
"'Kay," Naida replied, smiling. That was a good thing; she didn't think she would have been very good at biting, or at least not as good as Regina, who had two impressively sharp teeth. Naida ran her tongue over her mouthful of baby teeth, suddenly dissatisfied with them.
Naida grinned back at Gina, pleased that she was coming with her and was not going to be eaten by the angry green sled, and also pleased that she got to ride in the front. "Yes," she answered, "I like the front."
"Say thank you, baby," Laura reminded her absently, more out of reflex than anything.
"Thank you," she said carefully, then smiled again and tugged the sled closer to them so she could climb in. The white-powdered blue wood of the sled crunched into the snow as she clambered onto it, slightly hampered by her tail. She curled it up in front of her so there would be space for Regina, the fabric of the snowpants making a funny zipping sound as she moved. Her hair was long and would probably fly around and do rude things to Gina if she let it be, so she pinched it together and kept it in front of her right shoulder, where it would be good.
"Okay, ready now?" she asked earnestly, looking over at Regina.
"Oh, I'm sure." Monty grinned a little, and shook her head. "I'm afraid I'll only have teethmarks in all of our furniture to show for her youth." She mused, looking over at the girls absently and imagining what it'd be like when Regina was a big girl. God, that was a terrifying thought. "'Course, growing up where she is... I don't think Regina'll be very normal." Monty mused, tilting her head to the side. If nothing else, she'd have a relatively abnormal love of all things reptile.
Or so Monty hoped. Severely hoped, at that.
Regina nodded to Naida's thank you, and smiled meekly. "Welcome." She mumbled. The toddler waited until Naida was settled in, before climbing onto the back of the sled and looking around them. It was terrifying. She was going to die. She was going to go down a stupid hill on a stupid sled and she was going to die.
"I'm ready." She muttered, looking around. As ready as she was going to be, considering she was going to die. Regina looked past Naida, at the descent they'd be taking, and bit back a small whimper. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die and I haven't even tasted properly cooked food. Such a waste of a good life.
"Mm?" Laura asked, confused by her last comment. "How so?" Although, she supposed that a half-animal child that had come from a leaf didn't have much of a shot at being normal regardless of where she grew up. She looked down at her little girl with mild amusement, imagining a fully-grown, aquatics-obsessed woman.
"S'gonna be fun," Naida told her friend reassuringly, looking over her shoulder and smiling. "See? S'just snow, it's like air. Or wayuh."
She peered over the curved front of the sled and down the hill, her heart thumping in her ears. It was such a big hill, and they were gonna go so fast. It was scary, a little bit, but she was excited. They were going to fly down the hill, she was sure, fly over the snow like magic snow fairies, or something like that.
"Okaay," she said, drawing it out like her mother did when she was building up to something, "Le's go!" She pushed forward with a great heave, and the sled inched forward, very slowly for one long moment, and then the curved nose pointed down and they were off, sliding down the hill like it was some enormous ice cream scoop.
Like strawberry ice cream. That was her favorite.
"Well... I work from home." Monty said, shrugging a little. "Which means my house is generally infested with snakes, turtles, lizards... But mostly snakes." She counted off on her fingers like it was nothing at all. Then she grinned a little, and looked at Regina. "She's already handling one of the snakes pretty well. She knows when to put her down, at least."
Monty sort of knew that Iaga would end up biting her eventually, but she hoped it'd be when Regina was old enough to know Iaga was just scared, and not necessarily out to get the girl. Meanwhile, Regina nodded mutedly, looking past Naida at the big hill of snow. The big hill of snow and death and doom.
And... snow.
It was a huge hill, and they were going to crash into a tree and burst into flames like on that one movie Monty let her watch. She didn't want to burst into flame! But maybe the snow would put it out and she'd die from snow and not fire. What an ironic situation that would be. Death by Snow. When Naida pushed forward, Regina couldn't help but wrap both arms around the girl and cling as they went over the edge of the hill.
It felt like they were going straight down, and Regina didn't dare look to see if that's what was happening. What if they just kept going and going and got away from Monty and Laura and never came home?
That wasn't likely. The Earth was circular, right? So they'd go right by them at least once... Unless the sled stopped on the other side of the world. Oh no!
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