Haylock
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43 - Citrus
🕑 Added 2023-11-10 08:00:05 +0000 UTCThe ancient spirit, for what she thought was the first time in millennia, was completely content.
Compared to the span of her life, her time since reawakening had been turbulent, to say the least. She had been indifferent, angry, humbled, grateful, and, worst of all, almost torn apart by mere saplings. That moment of fear, of thinking that her life would come to an end at the hand of newborns, only stood to highlight just how happy she now was.
The spirit had become linked with the saplings. With each passing day that she continued providing them sustenance and power, their understanding of one another grew and blossomed, just as the flowers did atop their small canopies. Even now, countless pollinators flew from tree to tree, tickling her awareness. Each footfall, each speck of pollen removed, and every bit of sweet nectar sucked from the flowers were a blessing.
With the coming and going of the sun, the otter would bring her more sustenance. As with the insects pollinating her flowers, each meal was a cause for celebration.
The spirit gazed up at the moon—the otter was late with tonight’s delivery of sustenance. Some may have experienced annoyance at this delay, but the ancient spirit wasn’t such a fickle being. All things happened as the world allowed, and even if there was no delicious meal to partake in, she could just focus on the buzzing insects flitting through her awareness... right?
Two hours later, with the crescent moon peeking through the gap of her canopy, the ancient being’s patience was at an end.
Her leaves shook in frustration, and just when she was considering sending a root out to seek the treacherous mammal that had likely stolen her food for herself, an approaching source of chi caught her attention. The otter, loping awkwardly with a tray held before her, slunk into the clearing. She chirped and grinned, and the being was just about to trip her with a root for her tardiness, but then she caught the scent of food.
Steam rose from the offering. The vapors were laced with chi of such potency that all of her thoughts of vengeance drained away like the rains through drought-parched soil. The otter dashed over and dumped the food at the base of the spirit’s blue trunk. Forgetting about the bees, flowers, and lemon saplings entirely, she sent a root up for a taste.
The first offering held a hint of burnt wood. She recoiled from it at first, but then the other flavors rushed out. Unknown seasonings and spices danced over her awareness, and she dove her root further in. Many of the previous meals had been skeletons with only slivers of flesh left, but this... the fish frame was covered in meat.
She withdrew the root to test another of the offerings. First came the familiar taste of charcoal, but as with the previous fish, unknown flavors rushed out and overwhelmed the unpleasant thoughts that burnt wood brought to mind.
She withdrew the root once more. This time, she plunged it into the gold-colored lumps, not expecting it to be as delectable as the fire-cooked fish.
Oh, how wrong she was.
The moment her root pierced the hard surface, it plunged into succulent flesh. The shell of crumbs had trapped the juices inside when cooked. A trickle of the oily liquid trailed down her root, and she absorbed it, not letting a single drop escape. Her canopy shuddered as she grew sprouts from her root, plunging one into each of the different offerings brought her.
Ecstasy roiled through every fiber of her being. With each morsel she absorbed, chi soared through her network of roots. When it hit the lemon trees, she felt them tug at it. Perhaps because she was too absorbed in her meal, or perhaps because she now saw the trees as part of her, she let them drink of the essence. Some of the chi flowed back, but never as much as she sent their way.
All too soon, the feast was over. The last thing she absorbed was the crispy shell that had encased the fish, and she set all her roots to devouring every last crumb. She sighed, her whole trunk swaying. Filled with curiosity, she sent her awareness out to the lemon trees. They had absorbed so much of the essence, and she wondered at what they’d done with it.
She trailed the hints of power up their trunks, across their branches, toward their flowers, and...
No way...
At the tips of the branches, nestled amongst the leaves, some of the flowers had fruited. She sent herself toward the yellow growths, feeling them. They hadn’t just fruited—they had matured completely; the trees, using the power of the offered meal, had grown lemons. She withdrew a drop of juice from one of them and sent it down toward her main body.
When she tasted the drop, she shuddered in delight, her canopy twitching. Though the citrus juice was sour, it held a hint of sugar, and, most notable of all, unbelievably dense chi. The trees hadn’t used all the essence in the fruit’s creation—they’d refined, condensed, and changed it, pouring the culmination of their efforts into each lemon.
She felt a moment of desire, dreaming of absorbing their liquid and sucking the refined chi into her core, but it swiftly faded. The ancient spirit had made a deal with the cultivator—fruit in exchange for the continuous delivery of chi-filled meals. Her leaves shook once more, but not in annoyance or frustration.
Perhaps the cultivator would reward her success with even more of the crispy, animal-fat cooked fish. With thoughts of future pleasures, she sunk into herself, processing the chi still coursing through her system.
***
With the mid-morning sun warming my limbs, I smiled out at the ocean and placed a finger against my line, waiting for a bite.
Bill was beside me on the sand, and I reached a hand over to scratch the back of his head. His feathers were unbelievably soft, covered in a small amount of oil that no-doubt kept water out. He closed his eyes and leaned into my touch. His skin beneath was smooth, and I rotated my fingers slowly, massaging the top of his head.
“You a fan of pats, mate?”
He let out a low grunt of agreement.
“Makes sense—it can’t be too easy scratching yourself with those webbed feet of yours.”
He didn’t respond, his body relaxing as my scritches continued.
Sergeant Snips leaned against my leg and blew a small series of bubbles as she postured herself for a good carapace rub.
I let out a soft laugh and wedged the rod between my crossed legs so I could pet both of them at once. I sank into the moment, letting the sensations of my body wash over me. Bill’s smooth feathers, Snips’s sturdy carapace, the wind tickling my skin, and the quiet crashing of waves on the shore—all served to tether me to the present.
But then memories of Maria’s words last night came barrelling through. Just as they were about to overwhelm me and shatter my mindfulness, Cinnamon let out a loud squeak from behind me. I grabbed the fishing rod and spun, looking back toward my home. Maria leaned against the doorway with her shoulder. One hand covered her eyes, and the other hung limp by her side. I quickly wound the line in and passed the handle to Snips.
“How are you feeling?” I asked as I got to her.
“Like I was blasted by one of Rocky’s claws...” She groaned and took a deep breath. “Maybe one of Pistachio’s, too.”
“I already got you a pastry and some juice—do you want me to go get a coffee?”
“No thanks. The pastry and juice sound good, though...”
***
As we sat on the floor of my back porch, hidden from the sun’s harsh light by the surrounding rock, Maria took another sip of sugarcane juice.
“I feel much better already.”
I gave her a smile.
“Yeah, Barry’s rum still packs a punch, but the hangovers don’t seem to last long.” I pointed down at her half-eaten breakfast. “Especially if you have pew-pew food.”
She gave me a flat stare, and I sighed.
“Fine—chi food. Better?”
“Much.” She took another bite of the pastry, slowly chewing before washing it down with more juice. “What even happened last night? The last thing I remember is Ruby telling me...”
She bolted upright.
“Ruby is pregnant!”
I grinned.
“She is.”
“Holy frack...”
A laugh flew from me at her curse, and she smiled along with me.
“So you don’t remember anything after that?” I asked.
“No, I don’t...” Her eyes shot up to me, and she swallowed, then paused, chewing her lip as she looked down at my clothes she was wearing. “We didn’t... you know... did we?”
Heat immediately rose to my cheeks.
“N-no, we didn’t. You got sick after toasting Ruby’s pregnancy, then she helped you back here and got you showered and changed. I took you to the spare bed, tucked you with Cinnamon—and her egg, the little weirdo—then went back out for a little. People were already stumbling back home, so I went back to bed pretty soon after.”
“Wait... if I went to sleep in the spare bed, how did I wake up in yours?”
The heat in my face turned into a wildfire, and I looked out at the sand, hoping she didn’t see the redness in my cheeks.
“I honestly have no idea. I woke up to you wrapped around me like a koala.”
“... a what?”
“Oh, right—they’re not from here. Nevermind. You were cuddling me when I woke up this morning.”
“O... oh. Sorry.”
I risked a glance, seeing her face was as red as mine felt. I quickly looked away.
“You don’t need to apologize. It was... well, it was nice.”
A silence blossomed between us, but unlike the companionable silence we so often experienced, this one felt strained.
I let out a deep sigh.
“You make me feel like a teenager sometimes.”
She covered her mouth as she giggled.
“You make me feel exactly the same. I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours half the time...”
I thought of what to say, searching for the perfect words to diffuse the situation, but Maria handled it for me.
She leaned over, put an arm around my waist, and kissed me on the cheek.
“Thanks for taking care of me, Fischer. You’re a true gentleman.”
She pulled back and our eyes met. Beneath the shade of my balcony, they were almost green, their usually blue tint nowhere to be seen. I leaned in to kiss her, but she moved her head to the side.
“I should probably brush my teeth before you try that. I can’t say you’d enjoy the taste I woke up to.”
I laughed, the sound bubbling from my throat and making my chest shake. Just like that, the awkward moment was gone. I leaned in and kissed her on the forehead instead, lingering there as I held the back of her head. Even after a night of heavy drinking, she smelled of flowers. It was comforting, and as I let her go, she pulled herself into a hug.
With our arms wrapped around each other and Maria’s lithe body pressed against me, we jolted when someone came scrambling around the corner. We both looked over, taking in the wavering form of Leroy.
“Comanlookalemon!” he yelled, then held his head with both hands, swaying on the spot. “Ugh, my brain...”
Maria and I both looked at each other, back at him, then cackled.
“What... what did you just say?” Maria asked through fits of laughter.
“The lemon tree,” he slowly muttered, still bracing his head. “Come.”
I blinked dumbly, then my eyes went wide.
“Lemon tree?”
Comments
Beeees!
Don't forget to drop that in post looking for names
Christine Thomas
Just wait until they have lemonade laced with chi
Jack Trowell
Perfect name for the Tree: Colonel Citrus, or maybe Lieutenant Lemon
