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Uncle Glyph!

Finished

Getting to Know You

“He needs a bed.”
“He could sleep in your bed.” Or better still outside.
“No, he should have his own bed. He’s a member of the family too.”
Zeta wasn’t too sure about that, an animal was an animal. The crows didn’t need beds inside the house. Still, who was she to argue with a god, even a young one.
“Okay, a bed, let’s see.”
Isidore grinned, he liked getting his way.
“He can stay in my room of course.”
“Of course.” Zeta smirked wryly and turned on her hoof to lead him to the linen closet “Let’s see what we’ve got then.”

The linen closet was a great place to hide when he was playing hide and seek with his sisters. It was warm and full of comfortable things. Isidore watched Zeta as she rummaged through the piles of blankets and sheets.
“That one.” he pointed with a pale finger to a deep blue blanket. It looked fluffy and very comfortable.
“The blue one?”
“Yes.” He watched as Zeta carefully lifted the pile above it so that she could slide it out without making a mess. “That one too.” This time he pointed to a paler blanket. He wanted to make sure that the little Grimm was comfortable enough. “I can hold it.”

Zeta smiled and placed the large blanket on his outstretched arms. It almost covered him. Carefully she fished the other blanket out.
“We can fold them both up and I think that will make a very comfortable bed.”
Isi nodded, his chin resting on the blanket.
“Let’s go.”

Isidore’s room was off a hallway to the left of the master bedroom, along with his sisters rooms. It was a modest size as, afterall he was just a baby god. Colourful light streamed in through a large, stained glass window dappling the floor with pools of rainbow colours. On the left a stone arch shaped alcove where his bed was, on the right, some wooden storage chests on top of which were his collections; bits of bone from his father’s workshop, feathers and stones from outside. It was sparse but he liked it that way, nice and orderly.

“Here.” he declared dropping the big blanket to the floor by the window. It was next to his bed so if the Grim got scared then he wouldn’t feel too lonely.

Zeta nodded and put the blanket that she carried in her arms down on top of his.
“Did you give him a name?”
Isidore shook his head and pressed the top of the fluffy blankets with his hands to test how soft it was.
“He hasn’t told me yet. His mum or dad gave him a name so I can’t give him a new one.”
“That is very true.” Zeta crouched down and fluffed the blankets up a little. “Do you speak Grim?”
Isidore shrugged. “Maybe. Mama and Pa can understand crow, so maybe I can speak Grim.”

Zeta pushed herself to her feet, she couldn’t argue with that logic. Grims were of the underworld, just as the child was.
“Let’s go and get him then. Show him his new home.”

The puppy was being kept in Ankou’s workshop. They’d made him a temporary bed of an old cushion. As Isidore and Zeta entered he lifted his dark head, his tail wagging in anticipation of attention.
“We’re going to show you your new home.” Isidore declared as he watched Zeta lift the pup carefully. The Grim gave a small, happy yap in response.

Isidore followed Zeta back through the apartment, smiling to himself. His sisters didn’t have interesting pets like this. He watched, or oversaw Zeta as she set the puppy carefully down on his new blanket bed.
“There, much more comfortable.”
“yep.” The young god crouched down next to the grim and reached out to pet him. “There, you can stay with me now, I will take good care of you.”
The pup gave another yap that Isidore took to mean ‘yes’. It certainly felt like a yes in his mind. Maybe that was how his parents communicated with crows. It was similar to the way Kyrie spoke, not in words like everyone else but he could understand her.
Maybe ... he thought to himself, an idea forming.
“What’s your name?” He asked, leaning his arms on his knees. “I’m called Isidore but my sisters call me Isi. It sounds a bit like a girl’s name but it’s not.”

The puppy looked up at him, its red eyes glowing in the dim light of the room. It tilted its head to the side and barked twice. The barks formed words inside the young Gods head, a name.
I’m Scimitar
Isidore’s eyes widened and a grin spread across his lips.
“Scimitar, that’s his name.”
“Sounds like a good name to me. Strong.” She hadn’t heard anything but dog noises really. Isidore however was now on a mission. He wanted to know everything about Scimitar.
“What happened to you?”
Zeta watched as the dog ‘replied’ again. Of course she saw her mistress and the Spirit Guide talk to crows all the time so why not young Isidore and this puppy. He certainly seemed to be responding to the puppy, differing noises and expressions crossing his features.
“What’s he saying?” Of course she was curious.

Isidore looked up at Zeta and moved to sit on the floor, his legs crossed.
“A bad man in the graveyard. He tried to catch him. His mother came to save him but something happened. He said that there was a flash of light and then she wouldn’t get up.” Isidore found this thought horrifying. He could not imagine anything bad happening to his mother. “Who would do something like that?”
Zeta frowned a little. “I don’t know Isidore, but I think you should not go to the graveyard without your parents from now on. There are a lot of bad people in this world, and others.”
“Should I tell papa?” He was concerned, what if there were other Grim and this man was trying to hurt them too.
“Yes, i think you should. I don’t like the sound of it at all.” She reached out to pet the poor puppy feeling more sympathetic towards him now she knew he had lost his mother. “Let’s get him and you something to eat.”
“Oh, yes, can I have cookies?”
Zeta smirked and stood. “Perhaps, we shall see what we have first.”

.: 10 :.

Rest In Peace

“And where might you be going young Isidore?”
The pale hand that had been reaching for the door handle paused in the air, the young god it belonged to turning slowly, a smile on his lips.
“Um, nowhere.” The puppy at his side sniffed at the blue cat man curiously. Phirren looked from the young god to his pet and smiled.
“Nowhere eh? I don’t think you will get there out the front door.”
“I, um , I wanted to go to the cemetery but everyone is busy or they don’t want to come.”
“Well, I am not busy, I’ll go with you.” he took a step forwards and opened the door to the hallway.

It was a short walk for an adult to the town, the ruins of the church and the graveyard. To Isidore, however, it seemed like a bit of an adventure. He wouldn’t be able to tell Phirren why he wanted to go to the graveyard at that particular moment, it was just a feeling, a restlessness similar to the kind that his father might feel when he knew there were souls that needed collecting.

The past two times he had been to the graveyard it had been deserted, perhaps one or two people, but no more. Today was different. As they walked up the overgrown path Isidore could hear the beat of a drum. It was a slow rhythm

boom ... boom ... boom

Up ahead there were people, lots of people dressed in bright colours they walked slowly to the beat.

boom, left .... boom, right ... boom, left

“Look.” Isidore pointed to the congregation of people. “What are they doing?”
“Shall we go and see?”
Isidore nodded and started off in the direction of the people. He felt drawn to them in some way, the music, the colours. They were so bright, yet the mood did not seem to match. He joined the back of the procession with Scimitar and Phirren, putting effort into matching the pace with the slow beat of the drum.

Before long they reached a halt, the church was in the distance, they were now beyond the main part of the graveyard. The drumming stopped and Isidore could now see those at the front of the group. They were dressed in red and seemed to be carrying something between them, baring the weight on their shoulders. It was long and was also draped in bright colours and flowers.
“Oh.” The young god’s eyes widened. Though he could not see clearly he knew what it was, or had been. The soul was no longer there but it had been a person once, a person with a life. He glanced back at Phirren and shuffled closer, through the crowds to the front so he could get a good view.

Carefully the bearers placed the pallet bearing the body on top of what looked like a pile of wood. It had clearly been carefully constructed to make it sturdy. Isidore watched, fascinated, as a woman stepped out of the crowd. She wore a dress of bright blue, threaded with gold. She began to sing, a slow, haunting song, a prayer, he realised. Isidore could feel the sorrow in that prayer, the grief. Others joined her, high voices, deep ones coming together. An older man appeared, he was singing too, in his hand he carried a flaming torch as more people joined the prayer song he lowered the torch, sticking it into the bottom of the pyre.

Isidore watched, unable to look away as the flames licked at the wood, others moved forward then, the ones dressed in red. Each of them carried a torch and each placed it on the pyre. The singing grew louder as Isidore stared into the flames, it was hypnotic, the wood crackled as it burned, he could feel the heat.

The singing stopped.

Then there was silence, just the sound of the fire and the soft sobs of those who had been close to the person on the pyre. It did not last for long, however. The drums began to sound once more, this time a faster beat, more cheerful than the march before. Behind him people began to clap, a rhythmic sound, joining with the drums to create a jaunty tune. The light from the fire flickered and people began to dance. They spun and bounced in flashes of colour past the young god. Isidore grinned, he could feel this rhythm within him too, acceptance of death, celebration of life. He was sure the soul of this person would have gone happily to the Underworld, they had so much love surrounding them. He began to dance too, feet moving as he tried to copy those around him. It was a childish dance, one that would have earned laughs from the crowd if he had been an adult. Instead those around him smiled, endeared by the strange child who had joined them in their celebration, his monochrome colours standing out against the vibrant colours of the mourners.

He could feel the heat of the flames from the pyre, smell the scents of the perfume of the mourners mixed with the smoke from the fire. It was strange, primitive even.

After the music stopped he followed the mourners to a clearing where the most amazing feast had been laid out on blankets. He sat on the blankets with Phirren and looked up at the sky, the light was fading now, he could see the pyre burning away by itself as the mourners tucked into the feast. There was a speech, in honour of the deceased and everyone recounted stories of the man, sharing their memories.

Isidore had never really considered his domain before, not a great deal, he knew that Funeral was a way for the living to deal with the passing of the dead. In their eyes it aided the passing of the soul, he knew different but belief was belief and still had its place in the world. Just as he had his place. The young god watched the gathering, his first funeral and committed every detail to his memory. Cultures were different, changing, so perhaps funerals were different too. When he was older he would build a temple like his father and his mother. He would cater for everyone if he could, the cemetery would need to be bigger, certainly, but he had plenty of time.
“Do you have funerals?” He asked Phirren, he was educated enough to know the cat was not a mortal or a god.
“Yes, we do. Though, not quite like this. My people live within the World Tree. When they pass we bury them under the roots, that way they can nourish the tree. They are quieter funerals.”
“Oh.” Isidore replied. “That sounds interesting. So it’s not like this?”
Phirren shook his head.
“Not quite, though we do have a feast in honour of the dead. I believe this is traditional in many cultures young Isidore. But enough, we should be going, it will be dark soon and your mother will worry.”
Isidore looked up at the darkening skies and nodded.
“Okay.” He said reluctantly, though he knew he would return to the graveyard.

Word Count: 1,204 2 points

.: 12 :.

Tien etc

.: 14 :.

Sneaky Sneaking