A Summoning, Part XLIII

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Part XLIII
~Death~

Sometimes, certain events can have effects that precede their cause. People who travel between many universes, or who live in worlds where time travel (and particularly altering the past) is possible don't have too much difficulty accepting this idea. One such case went like so: In one course of events, Thomas spent Tuesday afternoon in a very mundane fashion: Eating supper, going back to her dorm room, watching some videos on her computer. But that isn't what "really happened," at least not anymore. Rather, while she was on her way from the cafeteria to the dorm room, someone interrupted her who otherwise wouldn't have.

"Excuse meeee!" Thomas stopped, turning toward the clopping sound of someone running in hard shoes, and was faced with a girl a little on the short and curvy side, with short brown hair, waving her down. She was wearing some frilly feminine clothes including a skirt, stockings, and some loafers for shoes—although the first things Thomas actually noticed were: small wings; huge, thick tail. The tips of some pointy ears sticking out just past that hair, and some black, upward-pointed horns coming out from the upper corners of her head, registered after that. "Ah, good, you stopped," she said, slowing her gait as she came up into reasonable conversational distance. She panted slightly as her running came to a halt, some bits of black smoke coming out of her mouth and nose when she did so—as if Thomas needed any further confirmation. This was...a fellow dragon. The first one she'd ever seen.

"So—hi hiii~! I'm Frelye, first of all," she said, offering out a hand to shake. Uncertain whether there was any more procedure than among humans, Thomas tried just taking the hand and allowing the short girl to eagerly, rapidly, pull it up and down a bit—exerting a level of force that might have yanked a human's arm out of its socket in the process! "Short for Frelyenebar Tirith Augustine, but I'm sure that's a bit of a mouthful for you. I tell ya, when some celestials came knocking on my cave entrance—so to speak—and told me a new dragon had hatched, I thought they were after my hoard!"

"Uh..yeah. It was kind of a surprise for me, too. Thomas—by the way," she added after a second.

"Mmhm, mmhm—lemme get a good look at ya." Frelye eagerly bounced around, examining the taller dragon-girl from a few different angles. "Weird your horn's already broke. You smell kinda like...an earth-type, maybe? Acid breath?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"Yeah, I'm the stereotypical type myself—pure fire. Not that there's anything wrong with that! And, you tussled with a lesser demon already?"
"Who, told you about that?"
"Those celestials, of course. Couldn't stop yapping about how you'd 'saved one of their kind', or whatever. I guess that's nice of you though. Oooh, that's not what broke your pretty horn, was it?" she said with a look of deep concern.
"No—it kinda just..grew in this way," Thomas said, unconsciously reaching a hand up to prod the broken part a bit.

"So you're—what." Thomas finally remembered, at this point, Zotha's offer to find an 'adult dragon' to give her some advice. "Here to help me..adjust, or something?"
"Hmmh, a little of that if you wanna. I'm mostly just stoked to meet someone else who hatched this century," she said. "I'm only seventy-one years old myself."

"'Only'?" An age like that made her older than the concept of "rock and roll".

"Dragons live on bigger timescales than humans, my friend—can I call you that?" she interrupted herself to ask. "I mean, I know we just met and all."
"It's whatever. So, you just want to, talk for a while?"
"Yeah, that'd be great! Maybe we could trade digits after, or whatever it is people say these days..a demon friend of mine introduced me to cellular phones pretty recently."

---

A man stood on a cliff, very near to the edge of an absurdly wide, deep, long chasm. It seemed he was in some sort of cave, perhaps, given the dim lighting which made it impossible to see the bottom of the pit before him. He waited for just a few moments, and then...

He felt someone coming up behind him. Who then stopped, just next to him. A...some kind of...catgirl? This part was different! "Are you thinking of jumping?" she asked.
"Huh? Uh—no. This iiiiis, usually the part where someone comes and pushes me off, and then I kinda..fall for a while before waking up." It was as he said this that he realized he was dreaming, and not actually in a cave standing in front of a deep chasm.

"You know they're coming. But you don't move to stop them?" she pressed.

"Uh, well—I dunno. I guess I never really thought to do that. I've been, keeping a dream journal lately, so I actually think this has happened a lot over the past few months. I've got this theory that it's like, a subconscious expression of this deep-seated fear I have that all my accomplishments are fake and all my friends secretly hate me, and someday soon that's gonna finally be something everyone knows...you know, so the falling is, like, a metaphor?" It was a little weird how compelled he felt to overshare like this, to a complete stranger no less—but then, this was a dream.

The strange catgirl fixed him with a long stare; her expression seemed to be a sort of permanently-fixed, sour scowl. Finally she said, flatly: "Don't be ridiculous." She waved her hand at the pit, then turned on her heel and walked away. He watched her leaving for only a second, but when he turned back around, there were suddenly safety railings between him and the pit—except for one gap, which was only so people could easily get onto a sturdy bridge now crossing the length of the chasm.

"Uh.." Looking back and forth again, the strange woman seemed to be gone. So, he shrugged to himself and tried walking across the bridge. Reviewing his dream journal some time later, he'd realize this was the last time he ever had this particular dream.

---

Thomas led the way back to an outdoor table near the cafeteria, a decent distance from anyone actually still eating. Her visitor gladly took a chair opposite her, immediately crossing her legs and curling her tail partway up around her thighs. "So uh..is having a long, complicated name a normal, dragon thing?" Thomas tried.

"Eh, a little bit, I suppose? At least among 'naturally-hatched' ones like myself. I understand it's pretty different to grow up a human than it is to literally come out of an egg! But anyway, it's pretty common for us to get some mutation of various parts of our ancestors' names, which is somewhat like some human traditions. My first name is based on my grandfather, Frelbeyrintirth—whose hoard I also inherited! Apparently he died when I was just a year or two old during some war, because some dumb humans came into his cave looking for weapons or something. I mean—they did manage to take him out, but only because he'd just woken up from a very long nap, and not without them going down too."

"I guess that's what you meant earlier..your home's literally a cave?"
"Well, it's more hospitable than that sounds, especially with some renovations I've been doing lately. There's electricity and running water! But it's a tradition for a reason, though: There isn't any other kinda natural formation large enough to store a lot of treasure in!"

"Yeah...so I found out we 'need' some kind of treasure to sleep on, already," Thomas said. "It's..a little inconvenient."
"How so?"
"Like—if I want to travel for a while, or something?"

"Hmm...I guess I can see that. You're not full-grown enough yet to take on proper dragon form, for sure. I was able to fly here from where I live—which is pretty far, mind—in like half an hour. And the celestials don't get uppity if you just use some illusions and steer clear of planes."
"So, have you never slept anywhere else?"
"I wouldn't say 'never'. A full-size dragon has some options for taking a small piece of home with her, after all. And we can go a few days without sleep if we have to."

"So, sleep deprivation isn't as bad as it is for humans?"

"I guess not?" she shrugged slightly, not seeming that confident. "What's the hurry, anyway? You could wait a few decades 'till you can fly big, and no need to pay human fares to get across the ocean or anything!"
"Uh, well—there's someone I want to travel with. Anyway, things change a lot over 'a few decades'..at least, for human culture."

"Hmm.." Frelye uncurled her tail so she could lean forward a little bit. "The way you say that—this must be at least a pretty close friend, huh?"
"I guess. I mean—I haven't known her all that long. It's—you know, the celestial I helped out with the demon problem. We were talking about maybe going to Europe, since she's like, 'newly made' and hoping to look around the world for herself."

"Hmmmmmmmmmmmm." This excessive hum came with something of a searching look. "How would you feel if...someone, kidnapped this person?"
"What?"
"I mean, like—what would you do?"
"I guess, I'd go get her back? I mean, free her. Hopefully not have to kill whoever did that."

"Heheh. But you were thinking of killing whoever was responsible anyway. And what you said first sounded more honest to me."

"Okay, yeah."

Thomas crossed her arms and frowned. "I've been dealing with some..I guess, possessive instincts sometimes."

"That's quite natural for us dragons."

"I still really don't like it. But what's your point?"
"The only thing we're ever possessive of in quite that way, is our hoards and all the treasure within. And there are many kinds of 'treasure'. You can't tell me you've never heard stories about dragons kidnapping princesses?"

"Wait, so...you're suggesting a solution?"

Frelye nodded. "If it's yours enough to go take it back when it's stolen, then it's yours enough to sleep on."

Thomas's face heated up a bit. "S-sleep on.." The idea of taking Stella to bed with her was complicated for entirely different reasons!

"Well, it's just one idea. You could also buy some single, relatively lightweight thing that's really valuable, make sure that you obsess over it as much as possible, and then stick that in your luggage. I've heard things like old cards and ancient coins can go for a pretty penny online these days, although I'd be worried about burning or melting something like that myself. My hoard is mostly stuff that keeps its value after having fire breathed on it."

---

Another man dreamed of being a grandmother: Rocking grandchildren in her chair, cooking meals for her children and children's children all gathered around a big table in her house. As it was a dream, the meals were indistinct, the number of people at the table, and their ages and appearances, ever-shifting. This was no strange fantasy, but a sort of blurring together of countless memories from year upon year.

Someone spoke to him, a while into this—someone who seemed to have been watching the whole thing. "You will probably never see them again," she said.

Waking somewhat from the form of the "grandmother", he looked around briefly, confused as to who was speaking. While he didn't see anyone around, he felt compelled to respond all the same: "That's how it was already! I'd have never woken up without the help of that angel."

"And these memories..don't make you sad?"
"'Course not! I've looked up my own obituary, you know—pretty strange thing to see, that. It says all the folks who 'survived' me, and I know I gave 'em all a good start on life. I could've died with no regrets."
"And yet, you chose not to."
"What's the use of ending my life, if I've got an opportunity to move on and start over? Besides, it's a real kick, gettin' to be young again!"

He had the impression that whoever was speaking shook her head. After that, the dream went back to normal, shifting back to exactly what it had been before.

---

Graham waited until they were both in the truck, and had started out onto the road home, to ask: "Say, what's your impression of those werewolves, Rachel?"

"Hm? Well, they seem pretty nice, I guess. Onida's a better cook than you are, grandpa."
"Aww, well, guess I can't argue with that."

"I guess it's a little weird two of them used to be male, or..something? But it's less weird than you, so that's not really a complaint either. I've also never met a 'streamer' in person before...they honestly seemed more normal than I expected, if I'm being honest."

"Even for being part-wolf and all that?"
"Yeah, definitely.

"Hey, no need to beat around the bush, though. You and Damon..like each other, don't you?"
"Well." Graham blushed furiously for a second or two. "Sure. You could say that. It's part of why I wanted to give you a chance to properly meet all of 'em."

"Yeah, it's not that hard to tell. Your face lights up whenever you talk about them, but especially her. Honestly, I don't think there's anything wrong with you living your own life now that you're young again, whether I like the people involved or not."

"But.."
"But I don't dislike them, sure. Anyone you're that fond of can't be too bad anyway."

"Awwh, Rachel..."

---

Riana was walking down the hospital hallway, and stopped. An old man's breath was frail and wheezing, audible through the door. Looking around briefly and not finding anyone, she carefully prodded the door open and sneaked inside to take a look. He looked, maybe, even worse than he sounded. So, she quietly whispered a 'prayer' to Zotha, gesturing his way, and after a moment his breathing slowly but surely normalized, becoming calm and quiet.

When she made her way back out the door, someone was suddenly standing there, maybe two inches from her face. "Waah!" She jumped back a bit, flailing her arms. "Personal space!!!"

This person was dressed like a hospital orderly or nurse or something, but it seemed like she'd been waiting for Riana to come outside. On second glance, she had...cat ears and a tail? Not that that was impossible, but it wasn't typical for people in...

Actually, come to think of it, this person hadn't been here when this had happened. Because this..was something that had already happened. Wasn't it? This was getting a little bit confusing.

The strange woman seemed to deliberately wait just long enough for this confusion to set in before saying, "What was the point? He'll just get sicker again and die anyway."

"Th..what?!" she demanded. It was less that this question confused her, and more that the implications it carried outraged her.

"His ailment was his own fault. He chose to smoke, again and again, day after day, for every single year of his life since age thirteen."

"Wh..so what?!" Okay, now she was mad. "So he deserves to suffer and die from that?!"

The stranger crossed her arms. "People reap what they sow. It is a natural fact of life."

"Oh, yeah? And who says it has to be that way?

"Listen, you—you!" She advanced on the cat-eared woman. "Whoever you think you are! If you ask me, one more day to live, for anyone, is worth fighting for! Who cares if it's 'their own fault'? If they 'deserve it'?! People can change. Especially if—if they realize what they've been doing wrong has hurt people, or—or just how much has been done to help them!"

She stood her ground throughout this, regarding Riana stoically—maybe even haughtily. "Most people never change."

"Maybe that's because nobody tries to help them," she spat back.

"You..."

The strange woman gave a defeated-sounding sigh. "You'll learn the hard way, I suppose."
"What's that supposed to mean?!"

She just shook her head. And then Riana woke up, suddenly sitting up in her bed. She looked around for a moment, disoriented, and eventually her vision settled on the clock. It was around 2 AM; the whole strange experience had been some kind of dream. Weird...

Not giving it too much further thought, she lay back down and tried to go back to sleep. Tomorrow was going to be another busy day.

---

"I see..." Stella nodded slowly. The two Kitsune were looking at her expectantly while she tapped an index finger on her cheek a few times.

"You seriously buy this?" Thomas asked. "I mean—there's not like, some other way Kitsune can 'earn tails' or whatever?"

"There are, but nowhere near as efficient," the celestial explained. "A sufficiently impressive prank demonstrates all of the traits for which tails are rewarded at once: Cleverness and wit, magical power, wisdom, a good sense of humor, and most of all..." She trailed off for a second, seeming to think of something, before finishing her sentence: "...audacity."

"You have an idea? Please tell me you've got something good," Steph said.
"Weeeeelll. I don't know whether it's good, exactly."
"That's even better! Just tell us," he pressed.

"Okay. So..in my time since becoming a student here, I've noticed two particular buildings on campus, situated just next to each other. Hmm..." She took a moment to get out her phone, and eventually navigate it to a map of the college's campus, then turned it the two fox-people's way, pointing. "These two. The English department uses this one, while that one's used by chemistry. Their layouts are quite different from each other, let alone the contents of the rooms themselves."
"Well, yeah, obviously," Steph said.
"And yet...their exteriors are quite similar. The main differences are just the name carved into the top at the front entrance, and on some of the other side-doors."

"So...what...you think we should try swapping the names?"

Stella put her phone back in her purse. "That would hardly be very audacious, would it? Most students and faculty walk into the correct building without even glancing at the name, especially this late into the semester."

Andrew said, "So then what—waaaaiiiit."
"Stella." Thomas interjected. "Are you suggesting that they should somehow swap two entire buildings?"

"Well, I wouldn't say 'they'. It would require quite a bit of physical strength to achieve a feat like that. Or else, the capability to move the earth itself?"

"You want me to do this."
"Part of it? It would hardly be 'their' prank if you alone did all the work."

Steph put out a hand. "Hoooold up. There are a lot of practical considerations when it comes to moving entire buildings, Stella! Like—the water, gas, electricity—all hooked up, underground. Not to mention that the physical action of moving a chem building involves uh, possibly shaking around some containers of very dangerous chemicals!"
"I did say that I wasn't certain it was a good idea. Practical considerations such as that occurred to me, but not how to solve them. If we were to attempt this, then I trust things like that would be the clever foxes' task to sort out."

"Ugh, yeah, I guess that's fair. What do you think, Andrew?"

"Um..I don't know about actually doing it, but we could like..scout around? Try and figure out where everything is that we need to worry about. If it looks totally impossible, we can just back out and try something else. Like—the moment of commitment is just when we start actually doing things, right? Snooping around won't actually disturb anything. But, also..would you, really be okay with helping us, Thomas? I don't think the whole thing would work if you're not willing, and uh, I totally understand if you're not."

The dragon-girl crossed her arms. "Hmmh." Looking between everyone's faces, it was Stella's rather eager, expectant expression that won her over. "Look. If you want my help with this crazy idea, then I do have conditions. I need to know exactly what the plan is, to the slightest detail, and you have to convince me that we're not gonna risk hurting anyone, or actually destroying anything valuable or important...or dangerous."

"But, if we meet all those conditions?" Steph said.

"Then...hm. I really feel like I should still ask for some kind of payment." Thomas shook her head. "No, sorry, that's probably just—stupid dragon instincts talking. We're friends, and you have a curse you want rid of. You just meet those conditions, and I'll do it."

---

Bastet appeared in two more dreams—two of 'her people', both only recently taken out from under the veil and awakened. She entered as soon as they fell asleep, placing the guest in a hastily-constructed room with her sitting on the other side.

To each, she said: "Ask. If you could wish for anything, and it must be selfish, what would you want the most?"

A Neko more than three-quarters of the way to being able to grant her own wishes, with white hair and bright purple eyes, said: "For myself, eh? I don't suppose you could bring back the dead? My wife and kids, say.."
Bastet shook her head. "Death is something not even the gods can undo. I'm sorry."
"Aw, that's all right. In that case, I'd wish for a long and happy life for the one family member I've got left. My granddaughter's a good kid, she's worked hard, and I think she deserves it. But...I suppose that isn't very 'selfish', eh?"

"Not really. But more so than 'world peace', or some vapid nonsense like that."
"Let's see..drat, next best thing I can think of is for Damon's condition to get better—it seems like she's still in a bit of pain, after all. You want to get really petty, I could ask for...more money?"

Bastet sighed. "It's all right. Your first two answers are good enough."

That woman's granddaughter, another Neko, said: "Uhhm...is it really okay for me to wish for something else? I mean, Lady Zotha already granted the wish I did have, and then gave me even more after that!"

Bastet glared. "I am not Zotha."
"I-I just don't wanna be greedy," she said nervously, putting up her hands apologetically.

"I'm not saying I'll grant this wish, either. I just want to know what it would be."

"Oh! Um. I-in that case. I'd love to meet someone who makes me as happy as grandpa is with Damon..heheh."

Her expression softened considerably. "I see. Perhaps you will, someday."

---

You might wonder: "Why 'death' for this particular entry?" Well, my reference for what the various tarot things are supposed to mean says that death can indicate things like "mortality", "letting go of attachments", and "profound change".