quilter

Effie wasn’t sure what to say. She had thought that they were joking around about the dumplings, but it seemed like the man had taken her stance a little too seriously. She had no idea how to act, really, unsure of where she belonged in this place that she thought she left a long time ago. She had tried desperately, uselessly, to figure out who everyone was but her mind felt more like a labyrinth than ever before. Faces and names seemed to slip into the nether, never to be seen again.

She looked around for a moment, trying to figure out who was Fanny when the question was inevitably asked. Instead of an answer, she simply looked back at the man and stared at him.

After a long pause, she finally mustered to say “what?”

Then, realizing that she really had not responded to much of anything, she looked around in a desperate attempt to figure out who Fanny was. After she spent too much time trying to find out, and failing, she resulted in giving up the ghost.

“I’m sorry, I really have no idea who Fanny is. I was just thinking that you were mucking about and really did not mean to interrupt or anything. I hope it’s alright that I’m even here, to be honest.”

-

Speechless at the sight of him, now what gent wouldn’t want to be in a situation like that with a dame, yeah? Except this, this was the rare time when he needed a bit more from the supporting cast. 

He stood up, mind already flicking through all the screenplays and possible scenarios. Jeepers, if the dame was reluctant to play the chorus, she could play the leading lady. 

A hand flew to cover his heart; he staggered back, as if wounded. “Mucking about. Mucking about? Me? Jeepers, lady, what a blow! And here I am, just doing my co-mu-ni-ty duty and helping out with the set-up and all.”

Selecting the right look to fit the scene took even less time: No. 11 (the Unjustly Injured). He held the look for one moment, two (count ‘em) before breaking out into a grin. “Nah, don’t worry about it. If they ask, we can always just say you’re helping me out. ‘Course…”

Here, he jerked his head towards where his older sister’s dulcet tones were still sounding from a distance, something about the booth not being properly aligned, yap-yap-yap. 

“…You could also actually help. That’d make it not even a lie, yeah? So, what d’you say, then, Miss…”

"Oh! I mean, if you really do need help, then I suppose I could..." she answered before she was fully prepared for whatever was going to be thrown at her.

"Oh, for goodness sake!"

An unfamiliar voice rang out which sounded nothing like Effie. But it was coming from her throat, was it not? Before she had any time to explain, it continued.

"Effie, if you don't help this man out, then I swear that I'll never speak to you again!"

For a moment, Effie just stood there before she eventually pulled out a cameo necklace and did her best to explain the unusual situation.

"Uh, well Jimmie--my name is Euphemia but you can call me Effie and this--" she said, awkwardly holding out the cameo necklace so that he could see. "This is my grandmother, Forsythia."

"You can call me Syth." called the necklace.

She had made it to the Path of Stars in the cedar grove, to almost immediately notice someone messing about. Effie watched as they seemed to want to get to the food before it was ready, which instantly made her wonder if she had gotten to the festival far too early. It appeared as if no one was really prepared for an early arrival and they were all still setting things up.

When she was spoken to, at first it took her off guard, but it didn’t take long for Effie to quip back in return.

“Oh, I won’t tell if you don’t.” She said, mostly joking, but making sure to look around in case the person named Fanny should return and end their little game.

Jimmie was no amateur. There was only one safe way to enjoy dumplings, and that was at leisure.

“Won’t tell on, what, you?” There had to be spare bowls somewhere in the many (many) rounds of hauling his sister’d subjected him to, yeah? Stars, he’d settle for a napkin. “Why, what sins’re you hiding, missy?”

He popped up briefly to take a gander. There Fanny was, hands on her hips, but at least she was glowering in a different direction. And at a safe distance.

“Hey. Hey, you wanna keep a lookout there? Can’t have Fanny coming back around before we’ve made a clean escape, see. Just holler if you see her so much as twitch in this direction…”

Stopped. Gave the curious dame a considering look: pleasant enough face, if a little narrow; hair escaping every which way; and not one of those features enough to ring any bells, but his memory had always been a bit iffy.

And there had been a slew of Johnny-come-latelys to town recently. Who’s to say this live one wasn’t one of them.

“You do know which one of ‘em is Fanny, yeah?”

She looked around for a moment, trying to figure out who was Fanny when the question was inevitably asked. Instead of an answer, she simply looked back at the man and stared at him.

After a long pause, she finally mustered to say "what?"

Then, realizing that she really had not responded to much of anything, she looked around in a desperate attempt to figure out who Fanny was. After she spent too much time trying to find out, and failing, she resulted in giving up the ghost.

"I'm sorry, I really have no idea who Fanny is. I was just thinking that you were mucking about and really did not mean to interrupt or anything. I hope it's alright that I'm even here, to be honest."

The clearing was already a bustle of activity by the time he’d lugged the last pot of precious, savory cargo in.

“Fanny,” he began, preparing his best puppy eyes. The steam from the pots of the various types of dumplings streamed upwards, waiting to be dropped into the cauldron of Leong-specialty soup already bubbling away.

Who snapped the pocket astrolabe shut, entirely immune to any efforts at charm. “The dumplings will go in when it is the proper time, Jimmie, and not a moment before.” His older sister paused, eyes narrowed at a commotion in the distance, before swinging into action again. “Watch the dumplings, and do not eat them. I will know.”

Out of equal parts respect and terror, he waited until she was out of hearing range before fishing out a pair of chopsticks himself.

Only to look up, warned by the prickle of his gift that someone had caught on.

“Look,” he said, preparing a winsome grin (No. 12, the One Before a Wink), “I’ll nab you one too, and Fanny doesn’t need to know, yeah?”

She had made it to the Path of Stars in the cedar grove, to almost immediately notice someone messing about. Effie watched as they seemed to want to get to the food before it was ready, which instantly made her wonder if she had gotten to the festival far too early. It appeared as if no one was really prepared for an early arrival and they were all still setting things up.

When she was spoken to, at first it took her off guard, but it didn't take long for Effie to quip back in return.

"Oh, I won't tell if you don't." She said, mostly joking, but making sure to look around in case the person named Fanny should return and end their little game.

Perhaps this wasn't as temporary of a visit as he originally hoped, for Maxwell had a surprisingly long list of things he needed to do over the next few days. Not the least of them, to tuck himself in at the library for a good few hours and pore over every text he could find relating to green magic. Many of those texts, he'd probably already visited in his youth - a much more active reader back then - but this was not the time for aimless curiosity. He needed something specific. Visiting the magnolia tree at his family home only shouldered him with more questions. If anything like this had happened before - and been documented - he desperately wanted to know.

So he marched his way into town proper, impulsively stopping at Flory's along the way for a sticky bun and a small box of petit fours for his mother. He couldn't believe the shop had announced it would soon close its doors. The dear little bakery had been a staple of Albion for as long as he could remember - the place to go for birthdays and other little things worth celebrating with a sweet treat.

However, he realized his error when he reached the door to the library. It wouldn't be a good idea to take them inside - there was probably a rule against it. Even if not, he would probably make a stain on some hundred-year-old tome, which he did not wish to add to his list of accomplishments. He could try to scarf down the bun, but still what of his mother's package?

After a bit of pacing, he sat down on an overturned barrel - then stood back up when he noticed someone walking past.

"Excuse me. I have a small request." He bit his tongue to keep from overexplaining, in case he scared them off. Or maybe out of embarrassment.

Instead of being wary about bringing food into the library, Effie had a different take. She was concerned about entering the library at all, aware of the thought that she had spent so much time there before and how she had given up the thought of ever entering foot inside again.

She stood at the doorway, staring inside while trying to determine whether or not she should go inside or not. Before she had the chance to make a decision, someone spoke from behind her.

She turned to notice that the man now standing before her had his hands full. He was asking for something, but either hadn't said it yet or Effie did not hear him.

"Oh--" she began "Um, sure. What's the request?"