herr_bookman | Entries tagged with goldkrone

It's another gorgeous morning in Goldkrone, and Autor embraces his mother. "Hello, Mutterchen."

"Hello, Autorchen," she says, squeezing him back. "You've been hugging me more often than usual, lately. Not that I'm complaining, but is there a reason why? You haven't gone and gotten in trouble at school, have you?"

Autor hesitates. He needs to take the opportunity to embrace her while he still has it; he'll be moving into Milliways soon, and turning his back on her forever. He also doesn't want her to worry about him. "I'm just happier, I guess," he says. "And I want to share that with you."

"Thank you, son," she says, beaming at him and gathering him into another warm embrace. "I'm so glad you're happy. The happiness of one's children is every mother's hope."

And Autor hugs her back, his eyes watering as he tries not to cling.

( Clara's Music Box )

The morning mist has burned away this Saturday, and the cobblestone streets glisten with dew in Goldkrone. People mill around, getting ready for the day and greeting one another. There are no cars on the streets, but the occasional horse is put to use. Autor leads Oswin through a door near his school from Milliways.

"[Remember,]" he says in French, "[I've told my mother you're coming, so try to... I don't know, act natural? But not too natural. I don't want her scandalized.]"

( Learning Embroidery )

At first there was nothing. The cobblestone streets were deserted as Autor walked on them.

Then, suddenly: bulls. Hundreds of them.

The great, brown beasts were everywhere, shouldering each other and stampeding down the streets. Autor was clearly surprised by them, but he was even more surprised by his ability to scamper up a lamppost. The air beneath him stirred--and stank--as the horned, lumbering cows rushed past.

Autor watched as the animals eventually settled, mooing and pawing at the ground. He saw Fakir and Duck, too, speaking to each other amongst them, but Autor was too far away to overhear their conversation. He was a little more concerned about getting down from his post than them, anyway, and he was fairly certain he was allergic to the animals below him.

Femio, Autor thought viciously, his lip curled in a snarl for the boy who often allowed himself to be stampeded by bulls to, "punish this sinner!"

That idiot!

Autor was trapped for two hours.

( A KID FUCKING AROUND WITH HIS SYLLADEX IS NOT EXACTLY THE KIND OF GRIPPING ADVENTURE THAT NEEDS TO BE CHRONICLED WITH A FEW THOUSAND WORDS, WHO GIVES A SHIT. )

The third day is always the hardest.

It is when Autor most desperately wants to sleep, to cave in to his body's incessant demands. When he first started completing Drosselmeyer's rites, he invariably fell asleep on the third day.

Well, I was twelve, what did Father expect? he thinks, and allows himself to yawn to pop his ears. He sniffles a little, shivering; his blazer is no longer damp from the water he'd dumped on himself earlier. I'd better not be coming down with a cold.

Autor knows his friends will think he's crazy for subjecting himself to the ritual of purification and sharpening--where he cleans himself off with a pitcher of water and then stays awake, not moving, for three days--in order to commune with an oak tree. But he believes it will be worth it once he grasps Drosselmeyer's power to bend reality through the power of Stories.

The aspiring Spinner will go through the ritual as many times as it takes. As often as his weak body allows. And he curses himself for being weak in more ways than one; since he'd started coming to Milliways, he'd slacked off, ignored the rites, and lost his focus.

Autor yawns again, curling his toes in his shoes. His neck hurts, and he's groggy, bleary-eyed.

The third day is always the hardest.

( 'Autorchen!' )

[ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 ]

( Finale )

[ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 ]

( The Prince and the Raven )

[ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 ]

( Marionettes )

[ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 ]

( Crown of Stone )

[ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 ]

( The Spinners, part III )

[ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 ]

( The Spinners, part I )

( Subjects Fakir and Duck )

( Would you please be quiet! )

"Get up! Get up, you pretentious twerp!" they chortled, as he hit the ground.

Autor never used to fight his bullies. It was just easier that way, really. He'd collect his allotted amount of bruises and move on. Then he found Milliways. He met Rae. Lohengrin. Punie. People who thought he had some measure of worth.

The writer curls his fists as he stands, ready to strike or run, as necessary.

Autor sags in relief as soon as he knows for certain that Milliways is behind him. He makes his excuses to Mr. Cat, and heads out with the intent of getting to the comfort of his library as fast as he can.

Squinting against the overcast sky--he'd spent so many days cooped up in the bar that he can hardly see outside, now--Autor checks his watch and turns his head to the left. Yes, there's Miss Anteaterina, running late as usual. And Miss Bottom, with her donkey head caught on some branches. And there's Arma--Wait, where is Armadillion?

And now Autor notices that other things are different, too. A baby crying at the wrong time. A dog bounding down the path. A cool wind blowing when it shouldn't.

This is not the Goldkrone he left. This is not the Goldkrone he knows.

Terrified, Autor seizes his breastbone. What's--no. No, it isn't really, he thinks, jaw dropping. Is it?

He adjusts his glasses. It is! It has to be! Taking in the new sights, smells, sounds of the people he already knows, Autor finds himself so exuberant and frightened and overwhelmed that he's just about ready to cry.

"The first new day," he murmurs, breathless. So many years of writing the same essays, of playing the same notes, of watching the same people press their lips together, and it all leads to this moment.

The gears shift and grind. The show must go on.

To hell with fear. He has work to do.

Until the end of music class, Autor was having a decent day--by his standards. He was just about done packing up and was ready to hit the library when Herr Brandt, his teacher, called him to the front.

"I wanted to let you know that this essay you've written about Herr Arnold von Bruck is fantastic," Brandt said, waving the thin piece of parchment around. "You are an excellent music student, but have you considered that it might not be your true calling?"

Autor's gaze followed his own small, crisp penmanship as it fluttered through the air. Having spent many years getting his hands slapped with a ruler in order to learn proper lettering, he'd grown quite proud of the result.

"In fact," his teacher said, and Autor prepared himself to be casually devastated once again, "it would almost be a crime to neglect your talent with the quill."

"Yes," Autor said, smiling through gritted teeth as he remembered Fakir clutching the Tree of Wisdom's rock. "It would, wouldn't it?"

With a curt thank you, he snatched up his essay--careful not to crinkle the edges until he could get home and tear it to pieces--and escaped yet another person whose expectations he could not meet.

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herr_bookman

April 2018

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Page Summary

OOM: Erna's Embraces
OOM: Clara's Music Box
OOM: Oswin's Visit To Goldkrone
OOM: A Stitch In Time
OOM: B.S.
OOM: The Aftermath of the Unremembered
OOM: The Third Day
OOM: We are family
07 - Finale
06 - The Prince and the Raven
05 - Marionettes
04 - Crown of Stone
03 - The Spinners, part II
01 - The Spinners, part I
Stories upon Stories
OOM: A Rite of Passage... Again
OOM: A posteriori knowledge
OOM: Home sweet home
True Calling

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poor delicate tiny scholarbaby

Entries tagged with goldkrone

OOM: Erna's Embraces

OOM: Clara's Music Box

OOM: Oswin's Visit To Goldkrone

OOM: A Stitch In Time

OOM: B.S.

OOM: The Aftermath of the Unremembered

OOM: The Third Day

OOM: We are family

07 - Finale

06 - The Prince and the Raven

05 - Marionettes

04 - Crown of Stone

03 - The Spinners, part II

01 - The Spinners, part I

Stories upon Stories

OOM: A Rite of Passage... Again

OOM: A posteriori knowledge

OOM: Home sweet home

True Calling