Welcome to Gaia! ::

She thought it would be easy to confront her tormentors and demand answers. She was wrong.

It had absolutely nothing to do with any remaining reluctance. She gathered up Sebastian, checked that the oven and stove were not running, and set out the door to the Bridge. Most of the walk Teqatia talked to Sebastian, trying to goad him into saying words like house and neighbor and asphalt. (Not her brightest moment.) It was a game he liked and had taken to quite easily these past weeks. Since Trant's visit Qatia redoubled her efforts, wanting Sebastian to hold a meaningful conversation with her mentor, friend, and occasional bedmate. It was a little like elementary show and tell, wholly selfish, "see what my pet can do." Not that Sebastian was her pet, but in a way, were not parents like pet owners?

Sebastian started pointing and identifying each house they passed with the word "house" and Teqatia let her mind wander over the parent/pet comparison. Sometimes parents liked their pets even better than their children and Teqatia felt her heart harden.

Then they were at the Bridge and she pressed through to Gaia and stopped.

Her neighbor, the one with the localized blizzard. The color of her hair. The local seasonal progression and the calendar date. Locked away in her perfect tropical paradise, Teqatia had forgotten it was winter.

She was back on the Bridge in an instant, already shivering. How she looked to Gaian onlookers was a mystery: a woman in a thin white sundress clutching a child, appearing on the street from out of nowhere and just as suddenly vanishing. Teqatia immediately rushed back to the temperate streets of the Neighborhood while Sebastian just blinked in confusion at the air change. They were back at the Neighborhood, though, so he let it go. "House!" he proclaimed, pointing.

"Good," murmured Teqatia, biting her lower lip. She hated the cold. Orsity, her homeplace, did not have the clear skies and sandy beaches and pristine waters of her beach house, but it was still a subtropical slum and weathered accordingly. All her life, Teqatia had lived in warm climates and never once wanted to leave or envied those who lived in snow (the white substance being what currently carpeted Gaia). She hated the stuff and was unprepared for it. She had no warm clothing, much less the constitution to endure subzero temperatures. Dammit, she thought to herself, not even willing to mouth the word in front of Sebastian. She did let out a nasal sigh and he paused in his identification of houses.

"Qatcha?"

Teqatia pointed at a house and resolutely prompted, "what's that?"

"House!" Sebastian proclaimed and resumed his efforts, quite forgetting the issue of his guardian's momentary discomfort.

Coming to their own house, they were met on their doorstep by an uninvited visitor.

Looking quite modern in his woolen brown overcoat and yellow scarf that more appropriately matched the season (although not so much Teqatia's house), Percival Prowley must have arrived just recently and been knocking on the door. Certainly he did not expect to see Teqatia coming up behind him from the street, or Sebastian with her, though he seemed to work out quite quickly the toddler's identity. Sebastian immediately fell into silence at this stranger.

He did not say anything to Teqatia or Sebastian, watching them approach by way of the white flagstones set into the sand. Teqatia kept her attention firmly on Sebastian and the door, not even letting Percival know she had seen he was there. (Of course she had, but she pretended to ignore him.) He stepped aside when she neared the door. It was not locked, for the Neighborhood was completely secure and she owned nothing worth taking.

Only when she was completely inside did she acknowledge him. "Coming?" she asked, and Percival gratefully ducked inside, habitually reaching up to remove a top hat he was not wearing.

"I was beginning to think you were avoiding me!" he said, hastening to remove his overcoat and scarf.

Teqatia groaned and set Sebastian down on the floor. "I suppose next time I shall have to make it more clear by posting some sort of sign."

Percival wavered a moment, wondering if that might possibly be interpreted as non-avoidance, but he was forced to accept the truth. He was disappointed. He set his coat and scarf on the coat rack behind the door (which was probably there for his benefit since Teqatia owned no coats) and removed his tweed jacket and cravat. He still looked overdressed in his waistcoat and slacks, but at least he was no longer overheating. "We were worried about you," he said, draping the cravat and jacket next to the overcoat.

Teqatia watched Percival with wry amusement as Sebastian clung to her leg. That any man could take up half a coat rack by his lonesome... Reaching down, she hefted Sebastian up onto the dining table and left him sitting there. Percival had not brought any coffee, which meant he had not been expecting to actually see her. This might be a good time for some of that wine. "You have no right to worry about me, any of you," she said as she went.

"We're your friends!" Percival called after her. "It comes with the territory. I don't need your permission to worry." He remained standing by the door, looking at Sebastian warily. Sebastian sat quite still and looked back, self-consciously silent. Percival seemed the more unsettled.

Teqatia returned with the bottle and a wine glass. She handed the bottle to Percival along with a corkscrew. He opened his mouth in question and closed it with a sigh, turning the corkscrew into the cork with practiced precision. Teqatia smirked to herself. Sometimes it was useful to have a man around the house, even a gay one. Especially if he was a trained butler. Unfortunately, if she let Percy stay for too long, he might turn to cleaning. The cork came out with a satisfying pop, perfectly. He poured her glass, perfectly again, though Teqatia knew better than to say it. As a child, Percy had been taunted by the other children, "Little Miss Perfect Percy," and he preferred quiet admiration of his meticulous skills to hearing the word "perfect" given as praising. "Thank you," said Teqatia simply, and took the bottle from him. She proceeded to sit at the table next to Sebastian.

"Drink," said Sebastian to Teqatia.

"Mine," she said, sipping at it. God, Trant knew how to pick wines. She closed her eyes and moaned softly. She could practically feel fingers trailing across her body, and she was not sure if they were His or Trant's.

Percival was still standing at the door, holding the cork. He recognized Teqatia's moan for what it was. Sometimes Teqatia was shameless. Her voice broke his thoughts, "Are you sitting down?"

With a swallow and a tug at his collar, Percival sat down opposite at the table. Sebastian craned his neck as Percival moved, still uncertain of the stranger. (My, they had had a lot of strangers lately. Sebastian was not sure he liked it.)

Teqatia opened her eyes and offered the wine glass to Percival, but he waved it away, as she knew he would. He hated sharing cups or plates or utensils with people. She could be a good host and get him a glass of his own. She decided to be a b***h and let him sit there in parched silence. Payback for being the cause of this whole mess.

Uncomfortable, Percy tugged at the cuffs of his shirt. He scarcely knew where to begin. The rule of thumb was always begin with an apology. "I'm so--"

"Shut up," she cut him off, and took a swig of her wine. Sebastian wriggled, suddenly wanting to go down. It was too high for him to jump, but Teqatia did not help him.

For a moment, just a moment, Percival blanched. Then he turned into the Percy she knew and found so annoying. "You can't just lock yourself away in here and do whatever, Qatia! There are people who care about you! It's not fair to yourself or us!" Qatia rolled her eyes at that. It was not fair that her life had been forcibly invaded by a bunch of do-gooders under the guise of friendship. Percival struggled on, "We haven't seen you in months, did you even come to the holiday party? Everyone's been worried sick--"

"Everyone?" prompted Teqatia with a quirk of her eyebrow.

"Me, Sylvia," he had to think a second, uncertain, "Landor Niela, Trant--"

"How very diplomatic of you," she mused, for no reason other than it seemed to her an appropriate thing to say. "And which of them sent you?"

"Forget them," countered Percival. "What about me? It's important to me to know what's going on in your life. You're my friend. And..."

She knew he hadn't many friends, given most people found him insufferable and he found them likewise. She didn't make him say it. "Fine," she said. "Don't mention Sylvia to me."

Percival backed off on that subject. He wasn't here to play psychologist or mend broken friendships. He looked for a moment at Sebastian's back. "Your seams are backwards."

It took Teqatia a moment to follow Percival's gaze. Sebastian's home-sewn clothing. Prig. She pursed her lips.

"I can fix that for you," Percival said quietly, not meaning to offend her so.

Teqatia waved her hand dismissively. "Do as you wish." Percival made no move to fix the problem, just wrinkled his nose in response to some distasteful thought. "What?" demanded Teqatia.

"I don't like kids," said Percival.

With exaggerated disgust, Teqatia plopped her wineglass down on the table and proceeded to undress poor, confused Sebastian. She tossed the clothes across the table to Percival. "You'll like my kid," she ordered, and Percival smiled, too polite to laugh. Teqatia then set Sebastian down on the floor in only his diaper and patted him on the back. He went toddling off for his collection of sea-bleached driftwood, glad to be rid of the crazy adults.

With a smirk and her glass of wine in hand, Teqatia watched the boys go about their work.

~~~

Percival had, it turned out, his own needle on his person. Teqatia should have known he would carry a sewing kit with him. He used her supply of thread and within an hour and a half had turned Sebastian's clothes into something a bit more presentable. He was extremely accomplished at hand-stitching, fast and straight, his stitches neat and even. Teqatia eventually did bring him a glass of water, but only when he asked for it.

When he was leaving, Teqatia thrust the open wine bottle at him. She had already drunk two glasses and did not trust herself with the remainder. "Next time bring coffee," she seethed at him, and Percival nodded meekly as he accepted the wine bottle. He reached for the door. Teqatia's eyes glittered. "Oh, and..."

Percival stopped.

Teqatia looked radiantly glorious in her mantle of assumed anger. "Don't think I've forgotten who got me into this to begin with. Since it was your fault, the least you can do is be helpful and go bring me information on Sebastian's origins."

Percival opened his mouth as if to object and thought the better of it. He closed it and nodded. "With the coffee," he said meekly, and Teqatia jerked her chin in agreement, finally releasing him to his own life.

Joining Sebastian, she did have to admit Percy had done a good job with the sewing. She hefted Sebastian up into her arms and tweaked his nose with her finger. "Who wants to go outside and play in the sand before dinner?"

Face splitting in a grin that fully displayed his buck teeth, Sebastian said' "Sand!" Thank goodness the stranger was gone and now everything was returned to normal.

He was no more than two steps out the door when Reginald caught him like a hook snatching blowing paper on the street. "Reg!" exclaimed Percival, almost fainting at the surprise. "How!?"

"Elevated heart rate, sweating, motor impairment?" suggested Reginald gently. "You registered a distress call."

"Oh," said Percival darkly, realizing it was the monitor. He tried not to think about technology if he could avoid it, especially technology that was inside his body.

"You're shaking like a leaf! Good God, man, what happened?" Reginald squeezed Percival's shoulder in reassurance. "Walk with me."

They made an unusual pair, the broad-shouldered, tall Reginald in his incongruously woolen coat and scarf, dressed drably but somehow not matching, and Percival in step beside him, small and scrawny in comparison, but impeccably presented. Percival shook his head. "I don't think I could explain it," he sighed lamely.

"I'm sorry, should I have come in?" was Reginald's immediate response, riddled with guilt.

"Yes," pouted Percival, and sniffled dramatically. Reginald laughed and slapped Percival on the back. Percival almsot tripped.

"I can't save you all the time, Percy. You came out of it just fine by yourself!"

That snapped a string in Percival's heart. Reginald was always trying to convince Percival to be more adventurous, but that was too much. Percival shuffled the books he was carrying and showed Reginald his hand -- and the scroll affixed there. "It got stuck," Percival whined, lip actually trembling.

It took Reginald a moment to realize this was a different scroll. "Oh?"

"I was just walking about, I walked past it, and suddenly it stuck to me and I couldn't get it off. I don't know what I should do!"

Reginald tried to pull the scroll from Percival's hand. Percival was disappointed to find the scroll did not switchto Reginald instead. reginald asked, "What did they say to do about it?"

Percival paled. If Reginald had only come in to rescue him, then surely Reginald would have known why Percival could not ask the veritable thugs in there for help on the situation. "Nothing," said Percival, truthfully, but not completely. "can't you use some magic to get it off?"

Reginald considered the scroll as they walked along. "I don't think so. Mixing unfamiliar magic isn't a safe thing, and I wouldn't want to try with the scroll being attached to you. Maybe if we had another scroll to experiment on..."

"Two is quite bad enough, thank you," said Percival sharply. "Three would be an unthinkable catastrophe." Of course, this already was an unthinkable catastrophe from Percival's point of view, so the difference it made to him was less than clear.

"You know," said Reginald, with an air of authority, "it's been my experience that when dealing with magics of this nature that attach themselves to certain individuals, there's usually some underlying function of fate."

"I beg your pardon?" said Percival, who did not believe in fate or destiny.

Reginald steered Percival down the street and towards the junction that would lead them back to the Neighborhood. "Certain spells are designed to mix themselves into an individual's line of fate. If that's the case here, and I suspect it is, it's no use avoiding it."

Percival began to get very worried again. "But that's not fair! I don't want this."

"But it's yours," said Reg, trying to tug the scroll loose one more time for good measure. "I could try to magic it off, and possibly destroy this scroll or rip off your arm in the process, but why don't we try the simpler solution first, hmm?"

Percival wondered if destroying a scroll that might possible contain a child in it was murder. He also worried that Reginald might not have been joking about the arm. "But..." He looked at the scroll. It was a rather fine rendition of a hawk. He swallowed nervously. If the choice was keep the scroll, destroy it, or lose his arm, he supposed to most agreeable thing to do would be to keep it.

And just like that the scroll came loose. It pulled off into Reginald's hand and Percival was free of it. He blinked.

"Well!" said Reginald, and studied the scroll a moment before handing it back to Percival. Percival was immensely disappointed that the scroll did not adhere itself to Reginald's hand. "That settles that." They had arrived at the junction. Reginald released Percival and went jauntily on his way before Percival couldobject.

Percival stared at the junction. So much for escaping his predicament. He set off across the Bridge to see Teqatia.

Percival sat in the middle of his drawing room in the middle of what seemed to him to be piles and piles of paper, but there was simply no other way for him to sort through them. The neat freak inside him longed to expose the pattern on his expensive Persian carpeting and he struggled to contain it and focus on the task at hand.

Before becoming Assistant Principal at the Liberty Center he would have never guessed that a nonmagical school cuodl use so much paper, but they had forms for everything. Lesson plans, teacher requisitions, applications for enrollment, attendance and grades and notes from parents and doctors. Yes, he had two secretaries, but as much as he kept them busy, these things were important and required his full attention and stamp of approval. He was the overseer of the budget and the curriculum and every other administerial detail and he intended to prove he was more than capable at the task.

When the doorbell buzzed, he jumped. It was Sunday, Reg and Molly and little Veronica were out on a picnic, and Percival was not expecting anyone. That did not totally preclude the arrival of guests, but Percival was less than prepared. He was only wearing slacks and a ruffled shirt. He wasn't dressed to see anyone.

The buzzer went again, a nasty, insistent noise. Percival scramvled to his feet. "I'm coming!" he called, glancing around for a waistcoat and a necktie and a proper jacket. The mystery guest kicked the door, and then shouted: "Open up!" Teqatia.

"I'm not ready!" was Percy's response. "I'm not dressed!"

"Open the ******** door!" came Teqatia's vocie, thoroughly appalling Percival, "I've already seen you naked!"

Percival blanched. He dashed towards the door and threw it open, hoping nobody else had been around to hear that. "What!?"

The only person with Teqatia was Sebastian. "Nice to see you," she said, pushing past Percival and leading Sebastian inside.

"Hi," said Sebastian.

Percival's house was decorated from top to bottom and crammed with some of the most expensive, ornate things money could buy. Everything would have fetched top dollar at an auction house. It was, frankly, pretentious, and nothing like the laid-back openness of Teqatia and Sebastian's house. There was so much furniture and furnishings in Sebastian's house that the place looked dark and foreboding, a problem not helped by the heavy drapery installations.

It was dark, but true to Percival's fastidious nature, it was clean, not a single speck of dust anywhere in sight. This was impressive achievement given the sheer amount of expensive junk on all the bookshelves and in the cabinets. There were a few piles of paper scattered on the floor where Percival had been working there when the doorbell rang. Teqatia kept a firm grip on Sebastian's hand.

"This is... this is a surprise," said Percival, panicking a little at the mess of papers on the floor. "Let me tidy this up." He hastily gathered up the papers and dropped them into the trays on his desk, struggling to keep everything in order. Teqatia regretted not bringing Sebastian's book, because now she was going to be responsible for keeping Sebastian out of Percival's stuff, about which Percival could be very particular. She looked around, wondering about all the Earth history Percival's knick knacks represented. Had anyone put such an assortment of Ilyrian artifacts in front of her, she would have identified them in every aspect of their origin. She spotted some sort of shiny baubly object that looked like a toy and handed it to Sebastian.

Two seconds later, Percival was there, wheedling it out from a disappointed Sebastian's hands. "That's a Fa-ber-ge!" Percival whined, putting it back up on the shelf.

"Fahburjh," muttered Sebastian, scratching his toe on the Persian rug. The rug was actually kind of fun; the closest thing in Teqatia's house was a towel on the floor in the bathroom.

"He's a kid," said Teqatia, irritated. "He needs something to play with." She mentally dared Percival to throw them both out of his house or declare their friendship over, knowing he would never do it. Nothing she had ever tried had dissuaded Percival. Now she did things to dissuade him out of some sentimentality.

"Uhm." Percival looked around. He took a gavel from one of the shelves and handed it to Sebastian, thinking there was nothing the little boy could really do to break the object. Sebastian looked at it curiously, testing the heft

"A hammer?" asked Teqatia, quirking an eyebrow.

"It's a... oh," said Percival, as Sebastian gave the gavel a test swing.

"Stay on the carpet," advised Teqatia, steering Sebastian to the middle of the room and sitting him down.

Percival wiped his brow. This was going to be a nightmare. "So sorry, where are my manners? I'll fetch us some tea." He fled before he could witness Sebastian destroy any of his things.

When he returned, nothing had been destroyed, and Sebastian seemed just as happy to bang away on the rug as anything. Teqatia was sitting on the floor with him. "And what color is this?"

"Black!" said Sebastian, and banged on a black part of the rug. Percival put the tea down on a small table where Sebastian could not reach it and knock the hot water over, pouring cups for himself and Teqatia.

"Lemon?"

"Yes, thank you," said Teqatia, distracted as always. Percival set the cup down on the sidetable to force Teqatia to join him. She reminded Sebastian to stay on the carpet once more before acquiescing.

Percival's tea was top-notch, as always. Teqatia sipped at it, enjoying the tart sweetness the lemon added. Percival tried to make polite conversation. "You're looking well," he managed.

"You look pale," she responded, taking another sip. "And I had not thought you would have so much free time."

Percival scoffed. "Free time? Are you joshing me?" He set his teacup down on the matching china plate. "I am up to my elbows in paperwork. You do remember that I have a job t the Liberty Center? And with the Mage Council?"

Teqatia took another sip, unruffled, and said, "Yes, but I'm curious as to why you have not discovered it takes just as much time to raise a child."

"Raise a... oh." Percival had almost forgotten about the scroll. It had been months now he'd had the thing, and since the first day, there had been no further unusual incidents. It just sat on the dresser in his bedroom, inert.

"Where is it, then?"

Percival made a face. "It's upstairs. It's unmoving. I did exactly what Reg said and it hasn't done a thing. I think it's dead. Or broken. Or some such. Anyway, that's hardly my fault it hasn't turned into a child. Maybe its child came out already and I've just got a used scroll?"

"Sebastian was born at the library the scroll came from," said Teqatia. When Percival just stared, not making the connection, she said in exasperation, "It might be necessary to take the scroll back."

Percival's teacup hit the saucer with a clatter. He hastily put it back on the tray. "Oh, no! Oh, don't you even think I'm going back there! Never in my life, Teqatia! I mean it!"

Teqatia raised and eyebrow again, still unruffled, and making a big show of it.

"Once was enough, thank you very much," grumped Percival, slumping down on the couch. He frowned for a moment. "You should take it."

"No," said Teqatia flatly, losing some of her cool.

"Well, I'm never going back," maintained Percival, slumping further. "Let the scroll do whatever it does on its own. And if it never does, it wasn't anything to do with me."

"Green!" announced Sebastian, banging at the color on the rug.

Somehow, Teqatia did not think this was a fair arrangement, not even in the slightest.