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How the Fox met the Octopus

Ethen's Point of View, the story of how it started. Who knew that a Fox and an Octopus could be the best of friends?

                There are times when living in a city can prove disadvantageous. For example, there are no forests or easily accessible locations where typical wild animals live. This is a problem for a shape-shifter like me. While being human is fun, lots of food and things to do, it’s very uncomfortable to stay in one form for so long. I like to “stretch my legs” every now and then. This is where a city is not a great place.

                Red haired foxes don’t just waltz into a city for a little walk. Luckily, not only am I a great person and easy to talk to, I am very wealthy. A couple centuries collecting and knowing just when to sell can make a person filthy stinking rich. My house in Sausalito is worth over five million dollars, and worth every penny. It’s a large and roomy place, plenty of porch and deck spaces to catch the view of the water and city on the horizon. It’s also very private. So some days, I’ll spend the whole day as a fox, sauntering around my roomy abode and enjoying the day.

                The problem with this is I’m still alone. Most of my kind is so spread out; over the years a lot of us have died from one cause or another. I don’t even want to remember the day when the world started using copper as currency, my species started dying off so young then. It’s a lonely life, living in secret from just about every other living thing around you.

                I’d pretty much nearly accepted my fate of solitude when I ran into an old friend. Jhzanalk was one of the ones who didn’t like pretending to be human. He always saw animals as the better way to live, and spent most of his time in the form of different birds, though King Fishers where his favorite. He flew by one afternoon and we had a good long chat. He planned on moving to the city; maybe get the bird’s eye view of some underground entertainment.

                For a while the occasional conversations I had with Jhzanalk was enough to edge off my loneliness, at least there was another of my kind around. Other days it didn’t feel like there was any difference. Of course, this was when my life was turned around. I was in one of my favorite cafes, a place called “Sugar Café”, trying to enjoy a hot chocolate and croissant.

                That’s when a young man, looking no older than 18, walked over to me and asked if he could sit at my table. He was blushing profusely, and I could tell that he was extremely nervous. Not one to be impolite, I told him he could take the seat opposite me, after noticing that there were no other seats open in the entire café I understood why he’d come over in the first place.

                He had a fascinating mind, and he was very passionate about the things he cared about. It was humans like him that made me want to stay in the city in the first place. Reminded of why I suffered my loneliness, I felt like I owed this young man a debt. He of course had no idea what I was talking about when I thanked him, and was even more confused when I invited him back to my home for a proper lunch.

                The surprise on his face when the taxi I’d hailed arrived at my small mansion at Sausalito was the best form of entertainment I’d had in a while. We spent hours just talking, and as more time passed, we became more and more enraptured by our conversation. By the end of the night, I could tell his was comfortable around me by the way he no longer had a red face. I learned he was from Portland and was here for the last few years of his medical school. Psychology was his major and he dreamed of helping people through it by becoming a psychiatrist. He had at least six years to go before he could practice, but he said he’d started when he was very young having been born into genius standards. He graduated with his bachelors when he was 17.

                He loved his little sister and family very much, and missed them terribly, though he had a large falling out with his mother before he left for Stanford. I didn’t pry since I could tell it was still a fresh wound. Months passed, and he came over once a week, we’d meet up at the café and talk about random and boring things. Sometimes we’d get into a real interesting debate on one thing or another, and before I knew it, we’d been friends for ten months.

                It was the longest I’d honestly interact actively with a human in years, and it felt refreshing. He was a constant in my life, but an exciting one. He wasn’t dull and boring like most humans were, his mind was fascinating as well as new. He had so much to learn, and such a thirst for knowledge. I was very tempted to travel back to Portland with him, if only to continue the conversations we had every week. I stopped myself and settled for seeing him off and promising to pay for hot chocolate once he returned. The last I saw of him was his smile before he boarded the plane.

                When he came back, I knew immediately that something was horribly wrong. He hadn’t called once the entire two months, and from a single glance his normally excited sky blue eyes were the shade of an overblown storm. When he saw me and my bright scarf waiting at the airport to uphold my promise on hot chocolate, he gave me a small smile, but it wasn’t nearly the same bright expression as before.

                “H-hey Ethen.”

                “Harold? What’s wrong, don’t tell me you’re cold, I thought you loved the San Francisco weather.”

                “N-no… I-I… I can’t s-stop talking l-like th-this.”

                “What? Harold, what’s wrong?”

                “M-my f-family, th-there w-was… an a-accident a-and… i-it was m-my—Wh-when I w-woke, I s-spoke like th-this.”

                He told me that he was driving his family back from dinner about a week after he returned home. There was a storm and he couldn’t see the road right. His mother was arguing with him again, that’s when I learned the truth about their falling out all those months ago. Harold had made some choices before he left for Stanford, and his mother didn’t approve of them in the slightest. His father stayed out of it, and his little sister Mariah idolized their mother too much to have her own opinion on the matter.

                He’d turned his head for just a moment… He never had time to react before the semi-truck hit them. He was in the hospital for two weeks, his sister a month, neither of his parents survived. He was so lost, so shattered, that I couldn’t leave him alone in such a state. I offered for him to stay with me, and after a lot of reluctance, he accepted. The medical bill took out more than half his college savings, and Stanford was no cheap school.

                His inheritance from his father’s side covered the rest of his tuition, but I pulled a few strings to make sure that he need not worry about any other bills. He was healing slowly while in my company, to the point where he could nearly return to his normal conversation rate around me, even if he could barely string together four words without stuttering around anyone else.

                It was when his summer break was approaching again that I decided I’d show my true blood to him. He was a very open minded person, believed in many myths of the world (some of which were just silly stories and some were so off they made me laugh inside), so I had faith that he’d take it moderately well.

                That was an understatement. Once I’d turned into my red fox form in front of him, he dropped to his knees and out right hugged me. He acted as if people turning into other things in front of them were as common as wearing shoes. I have yet to decide if that was a blessing or not. We spent the rest of his last week with me in various animal forms, though the default was still fox.

                I still don’t know what possessed me to show him what I really was, I’d never shown a human before and I’d only known Harold for a year. There was just something about him that made you comfortable. So of course he made a perfect psychiatrist, despite his new stutter. I was no longer feeling lonely, but now my best friend was. He got his own apartment once he returned in the fall again, having felt that he didn’t want to burden me. No matter my protests to the contrary, he wanted his own place, and I was not about to deny him that.

                A few days after Harold moved out, a king fisher flew in my window. It gave me a wonderfully devious idea. Jhzanalk was reluctant to meet a human, but after hearing I’d shown him what I was, he was too curious to pass up an introduction. Once Harold had a free afternoon, I arranged a meeting for the three of us. To say Harold Crane was nervous was a vast understatement, even more so after I told him it was of my species. Their first impression went something like this…

                “Ah, there you are. Meet Harold Crane, soon to be Doctor Crane.”

                “Ethen, p-please. I have years to g-go before I’m Doctor Crane.”

                “Doctor huh? Well Doc, I’ve heard much, pleasure to finally meet you.”

                “A-ah! J-just Harold, a-and p-pleasure is all m-mine… Mister…?”

                “Where are my manners? Jhzanalk.”

                “J-Jhza… can I j-just call y-you John?”

                “Only if I can call you Doc.”

                I take credit for introducing the two of them. It was one of my proudest decisions. The two of them have become attached at the hip, something I think John wishes were more than figuratively, and Harold acts like his usual self. It’s been years since then, and I don’t see Harold as much as I did when he was 18, but humans lives change so rapidly. He’s 25 now and has his degree and certification to be a psychiatrist. And I was right; he’s perfect for the job. He hasn’t driven a car once in those six years, and he doesn’t go home as often now that his sister is attending school in Alaska, but he travels a lot going to psychology conventions around the country.

                Sometimes I think, if not for meeting that scrawny blushing lad in that small café, I’d have left the city and returned to the wild for a while. If I’d done that, I’d never have met my newest interest, Detective Christopher Lane. So I suppose my little matchmaking had karma, and I thank Harold for that. I may have introduced you to John, but it’s because of you nature introduced me to Christopher. For that I am eternally grateful, and trust me that’s a huge thing for an immortal.

[drharoldcrane-blog]

Mod: John bothering Dr. Crane while he's reading, NOW IN COLOR~

[drharoldcrane-blog]

W-went and s-spent the day w-wondering around Union Square w-with John and Ethen. Ethen bought us ch-cheesecake, it was q-quite the treat! S-such a beautiful d-day in San F-Francisco.

[drharoldcrane-blog]

Oh-h my!

It's b-been quite a w-while since I've b-been on h-here.... Terribly s-sorry for the l-lapse in p-posts!

John a-and Ethen have b-been keeping me b-busy so I haven't h-had much time f-for much else. B-but I'm b-back now so, p-please send me a-asks, we'd a-all be h-happy to answer them!

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The Copper Eyes of Ethen

Copper eyes scanned all the bustling people fluttering around him at a perpetual half mast. They never change. He's torn between scoffing at their tedious lives or laughing at himself for continuing to watch.

The burn of chocolate from his morning cup provides a calming sensation as the words of a cafe-newspaper fill his vision. Black leather gloves tighten on the flimsy parchment when he sees a man harassing one of the baristas trying to take his order.

For a flicker of a moment, he contemplates doing something human. They're only a few booths over, were he to just tip his nearly full cup over it would be sure to catch attention. He could offer a fake apologetic smile as he called to the woman to help clean it up. Maybe order another vente hot chocolate just the way he always has it.

Instead his cold copper gaze drifts back to the uninteresting scribbles made out in black and white. Who was he fooling? He couldn't do that, he had to look human.

[drharoldcrane-blog]

Got bored so made a card for Dr. Crane~ might make some for Ethen, John, and Christopher later

[drharoldcrane-blog]

Clip from a point in time of "Double Harolds"

The red haired man looked at each of us in turn. Then his chilling green gaze locked on me. “Hello, I couldn't help hearing your conversation. Mind if I join?” Every fiber of my being wanted to scream out NO! But I didn’t, call it momentary stupidity. “S-sure. Um, I-I’m Dr. Harold Crane. A-and this i-is M-mister Finch.” I glanced at him next to me, his lighthearted gaze he had had when we were talking books now long gone. The man gave us a sinister toothy grin. He showed more teeth than was socially normal, his green gaze devious. “Pleasure. Aka Niiro, it mean “Bloody Red” in my native tongue. Fitting, no?” He made a casual flick of his pale hand towards his hair to show what he was talking about. But I felt the murderous double meaning behind his words. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to run. But I wouldn’t leave without my new friend Mr. Finch. I also didn’t want to chance provoking this dangerous seeming man. So I stayed.

[drharoldcrane-blog]

(My three new favorite characters of mine as chibis with their animal forms. Ethen & John are Riokuvyn (shapeshifters) and can shift into any living creature. All Riokuvyn have a main animal that they like to shift into. I knew John's would be a bird, but I finally settled on a Kingfisher~ Ethen is a Red Fox~ And of course Harold is the octopus that inspired him in the first place~)

Ethen: Hot Chocolate~ *love* Harold: A-ah um... *blush* John: *smirk* 

[drharoldcrane-blog]

“Tag, you’re it! Here are the rules: Each tagged person must post ten things about themselves. You have to choose and tag ten people. Go to their blogs and tell them you tagged them. No tag back.”

O-oh, okay... uh,

My favorite c-color is b-blue

I r-read a l-lot of things, b-but hardcover b-books are my f-favorite

I st-stutter around n-nearly everyone...

My h-hometown was P-portland, Oragon

My f-favorite food i-is General Tso

I d-don't f-follow any o-one religion

I s-skipped a g-grade i-in m-middle school

I love p-poetry

M-my parents d-died on my f-first year o-of college in a c-car crash

I h-have a l-little s-sister who l-lives in A-alaska

T-thank you f-for t-tagging me '///'

[drharoldcrane-blog]

And here are Dr. Harold Crane & John's reactions to last night's episode of Person of Interest "Number Crunch"

Harold: Are... are you crying?

John: N-no! ...... Ok, YES. BUT ALL THE FEELS! THE FEELS HAROLD!

Harold: *hugs John* It's ok, Finch saved him.

John: But that phone call!

Harold: It's ok John.

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(Meet Aka Niiro... japanese red head with green eyes and sick sense of fun... he's also a world traveling serial killer named the "Bloody Bara" XD

He's come to New York City for some fun... and his number comes up?)

Harold: o_o he scares me....

Aka: Oh, Doctor. No need to be frightened. mwehehehe.

Harold: ._. John...

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Harold: U-uh, y-yes... that's me in m-my f-favorite sweater...

John: Too cute~

Harold: S-stop that, John! I was r-reading!

John: *smirk* You're stutter is too adorable~

[drharoldcrane-blog]

fuckyouimfinch started following you

thepurplejunkie started following you

finchhasthetardis started following you

T-thank you a-all! '////' I'm v-very happy that p-people like me e-enough to follow.

[drharoldcrane-blog]

Harold: My first meeting with John. Our mutual friend, Ethen Blackwater the 3rd, introduced us. Since then, John has become one of my closest, though more eccentric and mysterious, friends.

John: I have few things that I owe. But I owe Ethen a lot for introducing me to Harold. For a human, ah hell, for any species Dr. Harold Crane is by far one of the most interesting to me. I can't imagine my world in San Francisco without him around.

[drharoldcrane-blog]

O, woe is he! He who has many a limbs to use, but none willing to take! The loneliness of goliath solitude, without a friend to make!

  A simple hug, tis all he craved, but left was he, the others think he depraved.

A tear fallen, hiding in the eternal sea. Their flow never ending until a ship comes toward he.

  “Is it so? A wooden ship sails near with people to hug in tow?!” A lengthy limb wiped his eye, no longer feeling the need to cry.

  His multi-colored arms, just begging for something to embrace, climb to the surface where the ships race.

  His hold is firm, for he is over joyed, however his new friend is very annoyed. Within a moment, the bliss ends, when the wooden ship bends!

  With a ‘crack!’ it is gone, the hug no more. The humans scream in fear of what is in store.

  Back to loneliness, something he will never miss.

  O, woe is he, the giant octopus of the sea. Eight limbs to use, but none to greet. So give this troubled soul a hug should you meet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(A little something for Harold. I was feeling poetic in my Creative Writing class today, and I did that doodle in Anatomy.)