upon the shallow mound
Steter | 1.2k | G
AU-gust Prompt 6: Fairies
Summary: Stiles is gone, but Peter knows his husband is not dead.
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“This is not my husband,” Peter says, when they come to prepare the body.
It has been laid out on the table since yesterday, as still as marble and twice as cold. The embalmer stares at the pale limbs, which have gone stiff with the passing hours. The man exchanges a look with the washer-woman, who has come to offer oils and tinctures for the funeral service. When Peter firmly tells them he has not planned one, they look bewildered.
He closes the door on their faces before the bewilderment can turn to pity.
Out in the sun, out of this dark room, he imagines them reassuring each other, as all the others have before. “He’ll come round,” they will be saying.
But Peter is alone with the body on the table, the body of a man he does not know. It looks like Stiles, in the way that two river stones, smoothed by water and time, might look nearly identical at first glance. It is handsome, bright, and somehow polished.
It smells like the shallow mound in the depths of the woods.
⬩
“That is not my husband,” Peter says, when they lower the coffin into the ground.
The embalming has taken place in spite of his aversion to the body. They have done good work: the corpse’s lifeless serenity has been preserved with herbs and balsam.
It is lovely. Peter is grateful when they finally close the lid.
By this time, Talia has come up from her home in the southern fields to stand at his side.
“Hush, brother,” she tells him, and strokes his arm as they put the thing that is not his husband into the earth. “He would not wish you to act this way.”
Peter is not sure why he’s come. In case I’m wrong, he thinks, but he tries not to let his thoughts wander there.
Instead of watching the ground swallow the coffin up, he looks out over the gravestones and toward the distant trees. Autumn has turned them fiery gold, and the scent of wet leaves hangs thick in the air.
There is another smell, too. The smell of the mound near the stream.
“It is not him,” Peter says. It is quiet. A reassurance. Perhaps spoken more to himself than to his sister. “It is some senseless substance shaped to look like him.”
“Peter, I grieve with you.”
“It is a thing from them,” he says quietly, staring into the dark shadows between the trees.
⬩
“He is not gone,” Peter tells Talia, days later, when she pauses on the threshold on her way out of his home.
In every room, it is quiet. In every room, it is empty save Peter. With Talia leaving, he will be alone in that emptiness once more.
“I am sorry to leave you here by yourself,” Talia says, her face drawn with unease.
Her gaze flits to the great oak table, which once held the likeness of his husband splayed out and still, and which is now covered in books and parchment. Peter has borrowed, bought, and stolen every morsel of knowledge he can find that might relate to their good neighbors. Legends and myth, histories and fables.
“Will you not come stay?” she begs at last, though her lone horse is saddled and waiting outside. “My children would love to see you again.”
Peter does not move from his chair. “I will not be alone for long.”
In the ensuing silence, he begins reading where he last stopped.
⬩
“The gold is for my husband,” Peter explains to the money-lender, when she asks.
He and Stiles have little money between them, and he has no practical need of his father’s ring. The woman inspects it, the silver wolf emblazoned on the shoulders of the setting.
She counts out his gold. Peter doesn’t wish to offend the good neighbors by offering a poor trade, and he hopes it will be enough.
“He’s a lucky man,” she tells him mildly, folding her fingers over the ring.
As Peter takes the gold, he hopes so. They will both need what luck they can find.
⬩
“I’m off to find my husband,” Peter says, when the wheelsmith asks where he is headed so late on Hallow’s Eve.
“Surely you are going the wrong way. The festival is in the heart of town.”
“He is lost in the woods.”
The man does not look immediately concerned, but his alarm grows when Peter’s determination does not sway.
“The woods are no place for humans on this night,” he says in a low voice.
Peter makes his way around the man’s cart to slip down the trail. “On that, you and I are agreed.”
⬩
“Show me my husband,” Peter demands of his neighbors’ mound.
The grassy earth lies still and quiet underfoot. Apart from the quiet rustle of branches, the only sound is his own breath.
He knows the strangers come out this night, but not when. Nor is he sure entirely how. But he knows this is the place, if not the hour, and so he stands in the biting chill and searches for a sign.
Hours pass in the dark. Peter holds his breath for an eternity, for the first time daring to hope.
When the night seems at its darkest, a sound comes through the trees. A tinkling of bells at first, and then the chime of some unearthly instrument. Voices rise and fall on the wind, a chanting that sounds woven of pure laughter.
When the strangers appear, they are as insubstantial as petals on the breeze. They pass about him as if on a current that carries their jubilant party from one end of the earth to the next. There is no moon, but their skin still seems to shine silver as they flow between the trees, some on white horses, others dancing in the pale glow, and still others shifting from one shape to the next.
One nearby glint of skin is pale, but not silver. “Peter!” a voice cries.
They say that one of the laws that governs these beings is that they cannot turn down a trade, no matter how bad that bargain may be.
Peter throws down the gold. “Mine be yours, and yours be mine!”
The strangers let out a cry of rage, their flowing music stuttering in the air. They scatter across the clearing, some of them falling upon the gold, and others fleeing in fury.
Peter lunges at the pale man in the clearing, squeezing his eyes shut.
In his arms, the man becomes somehow less substantial. His limbs and skin flow from one form into another, an endless torrent of shapes. He hears his name come from a mouth that cannot be human, a low warble that shifts in pitch.
One final trick to drive his efforts to failure. But Peter has been grasping at his husband for weeks, and he will not stop now.
With a final cry of rage, the strangers disperse into the darkness, leaving Peter alone in the woods.
But he is not alone. Not anymore. When he breathes in, the smell of the man in his arms is the smell of Stiles.
Stiles clings to him just as tightly. “You came,” he says, pressing the words into the side of Peter’s neck. “I did not eat the food, though I was hungry, because I hoped that you might guess the truth and find me before it was too late.”
When he pulls away, he is himself: not polished, not stiff, but human and alive.
“How did you know they meant to trick you?” Stiles wonders.
“Because you are my husband,” Peter says, and pulls him close again.
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Grace Van
Grace Van Patten Movies and TV Shows, Wiki, Biography, Boyfriend, Age, Height, Net Worth
American actress Grace Van Patten has built a name for herself in the industry through a variety of roles that have left a deep effect on audiences. This article explores Grace Van Patten’s remarkable life and career, highlighting her notable accomplishments, personal life and much more.
Grace Van Patten Wiki / Biography
Grace Van Patten was born in New York City, USA, on November 21, 1996. She was born into a family with deep connections to the world of entertainment. As the eldest of three daughters of director and producer Timothy Van Patten, Grace was destined to have a unique path in the industry. Her family tree is adorned with notable actors, including her uncle, Dick Van Patten, and Talia Balsam, an actress, is her cousin and the daughter of Joyce Van Patten.
Early Career
She made her television debut on the crime drama series “The Sopranos,” which her father directed, when she was only eight years old. Her early talent was displayed in her role as Ally, the gangster’s daughter.
Grace made an appearance in “Boardwalk Empire,” another series her father directed, in 2014.
She declined admission to the University of Southern California, choosing to perform in New York City and enroll in psychology and philosophy classes at a community college. When she was offered a job during the academic year, she postponed the classes.
The Silver Screen Beckons
Her role as Ellie in her debut, Netflix romantic comedy “Tramps,” which had its world premiere at the 2016 Toronto International Film Festival, was one of her defining moments. As she took on roles in films like the criminal drama “Stealing Cars” and the horror thriller “Central Park,” her skills continued to shine.
Grace played Eliza in Noah Baumbach’s comedy-drama “The Meyerowitz Stories (New and Selected),” which premiered at the 2017 Cannes Film Festival. Her performance in the movie as a sexually explicit short-film maker student at Bard College demonstrated her range as an actress.
Grace Van Patten made her stage debut in the Off-Broadway production of “The Whirligig” by Hamish Linklater by The New Group. With performers like Zosia Mamet, this marked her entry into live performances.
Grace’s career in film continued when she co-starred with renowned actors Glenn Close, John Malkovich, Patrick Stewart, and Minnie Driver in the romantic comedy “The Wilde Wedding” in 2017.
Breakthrough Roles
Grace Van Patten’s flexibility as an actress was shown when she co-starred in David Robert Mitchell’s murder thriller “Under the Silver Lake” with prominent actors such as Riley Keough and Andrew Garfield.
Variety magazine named Grace one of the “10 Actors to Watch” in 2017, recognizing her enormous skill and strengthening her place in the industry.
She made a strong acting debut in the fall of 2018 as Joan of Arc opposite Glenn Close in “Mother of the Maid” at The Public Theater. She continues to play a variety of roles including the lead opposite Jovan Adepo in Kerem Sanga’s drama “The Violent Heart.” in 2020.
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