Two Chairs

The space was filled with silence.

There are many kinds of silence.

The type that comes once a person passes out of a space of extreme noise.

The terrified silence of prey when they sense the presence of a predator.

The near maddening silence of sensory deprivation.

The silence of the grave, all encompassing and definitive.

The kind of silence that exists comfortably between old friends who do not need to fill the space.

This silence was none of those, and in the odd ways of things, all of them.

The room was bright but comfortably spartan. The cold brightness of fluorescent lighting, not the warm brightness of a fire.

What items there were each filled a very specific purpose and had a very specific space, from the sheathed blades hanging by the door, the stack of cards upon a side table, to the dustpan and brush stacked neatly in the corner.

Two big arm chairs sat one beside the other their occupants gazing straight ahead each looking at that which only they could see.

Between them stood a sturdy handmade oak table on which rested two goblets of red wine beside the open bottle. Neither glass has yet been touched as both occupants knew that it was best to let red warm to the environment and ‘breath’ as the term would have it.

“Do you think it’s going to make a difference?”

The voice which entered the silence, almost as if it were truly part of it, was deep and resonant, thickly accented from the regions surrounding the Nile in the African continent. Soft and soothing to the ear there was no harsh or hardness to the sound of it.

As smoothly as it arrived it passed and the silence slipped back close around them again.

Though the question had been asked neither party was in a rush for the answer. Time was something they were both very keenly aware of, and at this point time was in abundance for them.

The reply when it came slipped like a shadowed whisper into the silence, though easily heard for the closeness of the two chairs.

“It’s time to change or die.”

Both parties never turned to look, each keeping watch over that which only they could perceive. Two hands extended to retrieve the goblets. One slim long fingered and pale skinned, the other broad thick fingered and ebony skinned.

All of a sudden the silence was shattered as surely as the door was. Both sent to splinters across the space as a huge shape barrelled in and reeled about.

“Wife! Beloved! Ye fine vixen ye, I’m home!”

The bellow was such that the silence fled from it like a startled hare.

The massive figure staggered around, reeling unsteadily, moving its broad head about bleary eyed searchingly.

“Ah. There you are an drinkin no less. Sure I’m glad I’m not the only one to be in their cups tonight.”

The bellowed laughter spooked the silence from where it had crept close to the door, sending it bounding away again.

“Who is the company ye have beloved?”

The figure reeled over to stand before the two chairs. Their smile became a might broader to see the occupant of the second chair.

The Big man brought one of his think fingers to his lips and gave an overly exaggerated wink implying he was about to engage in some unsubtle mischief.

“Lil Ani? Is that you? My goodness you’ve grown.”

Once the line was delivered the big man again spooked the silence by descending into a fit of tittering, which for a man his size was impressive indeed.

“No need to get up Lovermine, you see to your guest an I will away to our bed to await your pleasure.”

With a reeling spin that was part bow, part over balanced stumble the figure trundled away across the room. That is of course until they reached the detritus which had once been a door.

“Ah what’s this? What happened to the door? Don’t worry my love I will make you a new one and have it hung in the mornin.”

The figure looked back over their shoulder and suggestively grasped their crotch.

“Speaking of ‘hung’, I hope you won’t be too long away”

The tittering began again as the figure strode through another door and into a back room.

“Tee hee ‘long’ hee hee.”

The silence crept back into the room, slowly, nervously checking everywhere for the Big scary noisy.

The Morrigan smiled a small smile to herself and with a sigh gave a slight shake of her head.

“Was that some movie quote? I can never keep up with his pop culture references.”

Anubis gave a deep throated chuckle.

“Star Wars. One of the prequels. I know because it was almost the death of the franchise.”

The timid silence gave a start as both began to laugh heartily. It considered its options given its favor for the two in the chairs.

It eventually gave up and left as the Dagda began to snore from the back bedroom.

A Grey Day

The rain fell in sheets as was its manner in the green isle.

 

The heavy clouds pressing themselves close to the land, speeding the waters' fall to the earth with their nearness. 

The storm had rolled in during the night and commenced its deluge.

It was a day for big coats, warm hats or hoods, and a sturdy umbrella.

He enjoyed the rain.

As he donned his heavy long coat and turned the collar up around his thick neck he smiled ,remembering a line from a movie.  The character's mother had told her that “god was in the rain”.

This idea always tickled him, because on one level the mother was correct in that some people view the elements as a source of worship, but the smile always got that little bit wider when he stepped outside and felt the first drops hit his face.

Opening the broad golf umbrella, he set off down the road in his usual rolling gait, his trim frame leaning slightly forward into the rain. He’d had no need for big work of late, so a big appetite and big shape was not required.

The smile slipped to a thoughtful frown as he passed the election posters. Politicians. The elected leaders set to govern in the interests of the people. 

That same movie provided a new line from his memory, one which he could not help but feel saddened by : "People should not fear their government, governments should fear their people."

These elected officials seem most concerned with their status and personal benefits, with their back talk and 'policy' discussion. 

Where was the leadership?  Where the sacrifice to do what was best for the people?

The People, so caring and understanding and welcoming as a nation, but are they too understanding? Where is the anger and fight?

He has seen a lot of change in his time upon this island, and looked forward to a lot more.

It was needed.

His eyes moved back to the water falling abundantly from the sky. Water, given freely by the process of the world’s cycles. 

They expected the people to pay for that which falls freely from the sky? Sure, there are processes that are important to manage disease and health to make it consumable for people these days.

All of that science must have worked, as humans these days lived a lot longer, or should he say, their life extended a lot longer than some he could recall. 

The sadness began to settle upon him; so many gone who never had as many years as people these days. So many, who sang and fought ,who loved and lost. 

So many whose greatness echoed even onto this very day.

They may have had shorter lives back then, but they definitely lived them to the full. 

In an effort to wash away the sadness, he stopped in the street, and moving the umbrella aside he tilted his head back and set his face to the rain’s fall. 

The water was cold as it splashed on his skin. In seconds the rain had soaked his broad features and was running in little rivulets through the care worn lines of his forehead, and those around his eyes.

If there had been tears shed then they would fall with the rest of the water to wet the earth. 

Heaving a sigh he shook himself, and caused a cascade of water to shift off of him and hammer into the ground.

Looking down he saw the waters flow to the side of the concrete pathway and into the drains and away. 

Flowing, always flowing.

His face softened and a small smile returned as the umbrella once again covered him from the falling water. 

 

There will always be change, it cannot be stopped.

Like the waters which flow it will always find a way. There will be those that try fighting it but eventually they will be worn down or worked around. 

Change is a power that all people possess. From the small to the large, the change starts with each person, and it starts with a choice.

He recalled the news of communities coming together. Neighbour standing with neighbour in peaceful opposition to the government forcing its agenda against the will of the people.

His smile became that bit bigger as he considered the wider world impact his little island had when its people raised their voice and collectively declared that the union of two people, one to the other, should not be restricted based on their gender. 

Change, a power every person possesses, and it starts with a choice. 

 Putting one foot in front of the other, he moved on through the grey wet gloom until he reached his destination.

The pub was warm and dry, a fire crackled merrily over in the hearth. A few patrons sat about the space chatting and enjoying companionship.

Tapping off his umbrella he placed in the stand. Shirking off his big coat he hung it by the door and strolled up to his stool at the bar. 

Shaking out his paper he let his mind drift as his eyes moved, waiting for the barman to finish serving the woman down the way.

“What’ll it be Big D?”

“Pint of the usual, please Derek. Got any tips on the horses today?”

“No way D. I lost more than enough on that last run yesterday. I wouldn’t want to give you my bad luck.”

As the barman moved away to pull the pint, the woman he had just served slipped in to the seat beside him.

“Warmaiden in the fourth might suit. I hear she is feisty and likes to bite, but they say she is one amazing ride, if you like to gamble.” 

His eyes left the paper and roamed up her small frame to a face of fine sharp features and smiling pink lips.

It was always her eyes though. Every time, they seemed to stop his heart and steal his breath. Those eyes roamed about his shape in return, from his broad shoulders to his slim waist.

“If it’s not too improper to ask, I’m curious, why did he call you 'Big' D?”

The Dagda’s eyes took on a mischievous twinkle as his dimples came out to match his broad smile.

“Well….”


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Appetites

Two days and three nights.

A long enough period to strain the stamina of many.

Muscles all a fire and heads all a spin, this was no place for the faint of heart, or weak if constitution. 

The music kept its frantic pace as the dancers reeled and sprang about to its beats and rests. 

He had to give it to those godsmen for one thing at least, they made a fine beverage.

Lacking the spirit of the more traditional alcohols, these frothy brews allowed for a large quantity of consumption.

The flavors set to tickle even the most refined pallet, though in saying that there were many who never thought of him as refined in any context.

The conceit tickled him and a burbling chuckle became a full throated bellow of laughter.  

The dancers cheered in their revel to see him so entertained, presuming much to see him so far in his cups.

Then again, with many an empty cask strewn about him he couldn't say they presumed overly much. 

His humorous outburst returned to a pleasurable warmth in his mind, but something was different.

With a sharpening of senses, though no outward sign of wariness, he moved his eyes across the hall. 

The main floor space was taken up by the dancers.

30 strong, lithe forms flowing like water in the river of the music. Stamping feet and twirling bodies mingled and dispersed only to mingle again.

Smiling faces and clasping hands moving the revelers to the tunes of songs long held dear for this joy they brought.

This was not what he was looking for. 

The 15 bards set the flow with pipe, horn, bodhrán and his preference, harp.

The magic they wove spilling a joy of motion across the space. Tempo, pitch, cadence, melody, harmony. These were the tools of this most powerful craft.

The notes weaving amidst one another, merging and yet distinct to the ear that could hear them. 

Emotion embodied in sound. 

This was not what he was looking for. 

Opposite the bards, thankfully, the drinks were flowing without end and the foods bringing delight and sustenance to one and all.

Roasted meat by the platter, fruits and cheeses, warm fresh breads, and pies of many sweet or savoury fillings. A heady aroma filled the air, fit to bring any mouth to moistness in anticipation of fantastic flavor. 

This was not what he was looking for. 

As his eyes rolled back towards to dance they caught what his senses had told him was there.

A shadow among the shadows. A darkness in between the lights.

Some feat indeed given the multitude of torches and candles that lit the space.

Downing his drink he drew himself another, feigning ignorance as the shadow moved about.

It flitted and floated, passing between the gaps in attention. 

This was what he had been looking for, and his smile grew broad upon his flushed face. 

As it ghosted past him, nought but a blur in the peripherals of his vision, nothing more that a wisp of a shade, his hand shot out like a lightning bolt, grasping a well muscled arm and spinning the owner into his broad lap.

A surprised indignant yelp was his reward, that and a resounding teeth-rattling slap across his jaw. 

In an instant the space stopped. A cold steely Will wrapping the second in ice and freezing it solid. 

She was all a fury to have been so interrupted.

Her hair spilled about her shoulders in a cascade, her gown of finest fabric fitting tight to her warrior's form, a shape that did not go unnoticed to his appreciative gaze.

His eyes roamed slowly back up to her face, severe and beautiful; high cheek bones and sharp jawline in complete complement to her lithe shape. 

His eyes met hers. Warm earthy brown gazed into eyes as grey as a storm cloud. 

Thunder would not be long away, he thought. 

That thought spread the smile on his face a good bit broader, which made puckering his lips for a kiss all the harder. 

In the literal blink of an eye the storm clouds passed and an azure blue of a fresh spring sky took its place.

Sharp nails raked his arm as her face moved towards his, her breath coming hot against his skin.

At the last moment she dipped past his face and sunk her teeth into his neck.

The bite was hard yet she did not break skin.

 Her lips sealed around the bite to suck against his flesh as a small gasp escaped him. 

Mind your appetites my love. Remember we are not at the ford. 

A chuckle rolled out of his chest as the next second finally arrived and the Morrigan was gone from sight.

With a wince at the mark on his neck, the Dagda refilled his cup anew and settled back to enjoy the revels.


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