#for at least orange cassidy laughing on camera

[wrestlezon]

trent is subjected to participating in some sort of "comedy routine", orange cracks up laughing

[heatheradio]

Providence-Chapter 2

By Heather Boyce

He woke to chattering teeth and damp earth. The sun was hidden behind copious amounts of leaves. He had never seen trees like these before. Various maples, oaks, and pines towered much higher than he ever imagined they would. Saga stood, using the support of a low hanging branch. His body ached. Not unusual or unexpected. He reached into the pouch of his grey sweater, fingers brushing steel. He sighed.

Blues and purples mixed in with the usual green of grass. Yellow and pink mushrooms created small circles precariously atop the forest floor. A noise sounded in the distance. A bird? But it was much louder than the ones he heard back home. A mass of orange and red feathers soared the skies above him. He stared in awe, noticing the different shades in it’s feathers, the mass of yellow covering the bird's underside. 

Then he heard the most beautiful noise. Following the soprano hum, Saga found a nest. There were three eggs the size of his fist, with a fourth one cracked open. The chick was white and fuzzy. The noise was coming from it. He wants his mother. He’s hungry. Saga looked back to the sky and noticed the bird from earlier slowly making it’s way to the nest. He smiled and walked towards the sound of a creek. It was clear with small fish, and flowed west. Follow the river. He thought he knew where he was, but he never thought it possible. We shall see.

He found a road in less than five minutes, and stopped to listen. Go right.

His damp clothes dry from the sun, and body warm from the hour long walk, he saw it. Buildings made of wood and stone. A town square with a market. If it weren’t for the well dressed people and occasional car, he would have thought he slipped back in time, not into another world. This was it. Saga’s dreams had lead him here many nights, his visions sent him here whenever they wished, and during those times he was finally content. Mostly.

He didn’t feel it until he realized asking for directions would be necessary. The numbness starting in his knees and forearms, the weight in the pit of his stomach, the tightening of his lungs, and that  burning itch in his head. Breathe, close your eyes, count to ten. He found the metal in his pocket and stepped forward.

“Excuse me?” A stout woman with red hair stood behind a booth selling paintings. “Did you say something, kid?”

Saga suppressed a sigh and cleared his throat. “Um, yes. The half-breed?” Her nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed. Deep breath, Saga. “A tall man. He has purple-”

“I know who you mean, but why’re you asking?” She sounded suspicious but not mean. With paint covered hands, she hung up another piece of work. “You’re not from around here, I take it.” She gazed into his eyes without flinching. Which was odd. He was used to too-big pale green eyes at least shocking people. Hers matched her hair, and her smile reached them. She was kind. How odd. “He’s usually found at Fio’s.” He smiled and nodded, not sure why she gave up the information so freely. “I can read you, kid. Besides, the Cassidy’s can hold their own.” She turned to grab another painting. Read me? He shook his head and walked in the direction she pointed.

A family with cat ears and tails passed him on the street. A woman with scaled skin grinned with a mouth full of pointed teeth. Silver people about half a foot tall flew through the air, glitter falling from them. No one looked at them strangely. They waved, spoke, laughed, but it was Saga getting the side eye. Questioning glances and hushed whispers. No malicious intent, but curiosity. He stopped at another booth, this time with a short man that a had a massive red beard.  “Hello! Something I can help you with?” His voice was deep but jolly.

Saga gave a timid smile and nodded. “I’m looking for Fio’s.” The man pointed just across that street. “That’s it there, but they may be closed by now. Always worth a knock.”

Flowers of all kinds lined the walkway to Fio’s purple door. Vines slithered up, blending beautifully with the dark green of the house. Yes, it was big, and easily held the shop within, but there was no doubt that it was a home. The lights inside were off, no one answered when he knocked, and looking around back brought up nothing. Check the door. It clicked open. Saga was shocked. Breaking into anything was never this easy. And then the panic set in again. Worries about who was home, what to say if he ran into him, or worse, his mother. They probably didn’t even want him here. He slid down the back of the door, head in his hands. What in the world was he thinking breaking in here? Why was he here in this fantasy land? Places like this didn’t exist. This is real. Saga’s head shook. Yes, Saga. He whimpered, chest tight. Breathe. BREATHE!

He did. In and out until his fists left his hair, and body stopped shaking. He stood, face blank, and walked further in. 

He knew this place. The register the boy’s mother sat at with her crystals and purple mug full of pens. Beautiful books and the strangest of things lining the shelves. The walls were mustard yellow with paintings, graffiti, things colored directly on them, and plants grew up them. Nothing matched, and that made everything match. The smell of sage and lavender that always accompanied his dreams of this place filled the air, and it smelled of home.

A tie dye sheet covered a doorway that led to the stairs. The house was just beyond them. After walking up, Saga pulled the door open. The main apartment was to his left. A cozy kitchen, big living room accompanied by a fire place, and the mother’s room. To his right was the hidden ladder that lead to the violet eyed boy’s room. He pulled the string that hung from the ceiling and climbed up. 

He knew this place as well. A rather large bathroom, clawfoot tub included, sat behind the door directly to his right. A few steps further and he saw the giant custom bed with purple silk sheets and a black faux fur blanket to the far right. There was a white antique couch covered in a hideous lavender flower design in front of him, and that was one of two favorite places he had in this room. In front of it sat a dark wood coffee table that’s legs looked like roots growing into stumps as it came up, then twisting into wiry branches above each corner. On the wall in front of that hung a 60 inch flat screen, with shelves on the wall below filled with different gaming systems, games, and movies. Surround sound speakers could be found on each wall.

In the left corner of the room sat a desk, small grand piano, guitar, and a few mismatched stools seated around a small metal table, next to which was a mini fridge. There was art drawn and painted directly onto the walls. These, he knew, were done not by the boy, but by the vampire friend. A beautiful black woman that loved all things dark, but had a heart of gold.

Saga cocked his head. He wasn’t sure how to feel, or if he felt at all really. He walked to the desk and pulled open a drawer. There was a mess of things; pens, pencils, papers, music sheets, and candies. A picture… He held it up. A baby lying on a bed of fully bloomed balloon flowers, the lighter purple petals igniting the darker lavender of his eyes. The babe wore only a flower crown made of clematis and catmint that sat on a head covered in thick dark grey hair. Pointed ears far too large for the child poked above the flowers. His hands reached towards the camera. Saga turned it around. Aiden Simon Cassidy. Saga smiled, emotions coming back to him slowly, and walked to the couch, holding the photo to his chest. He pulled up his legs, head resting on the arm of the sofa. He felt like he was in a dream, still not quite sure what he believed. 

Rest. 

And so he did.