[Closed] A Little Bird Told Me (Chrysanthe)

[Sebastian Morgenstern]

Loshis 29, 2710

A patch of forest near Deventry, late morning.

They had walked mostly in silence for the last while, after he had finished talking about his parents and his youngest sister. He didn’t ask after Chrysanthe’s parents. He knew what had happened to them, and imagined that it was likely still raw and new for her. He hadn’t told her, yet, that he knew. It hadn’t come up in conversation on it’s own, and he didn’t see the point in mentioning it and souring any good time they were having together, or upsetting her.

He was content to let the silence between them stand as they carried on. He led the way through the streets to a patch of forest just past the back edge of Deventry. He stopped when they reached the edge of the woods proper, reaching into his bag and producing a pair of binoculars, which he handed to Chrysanthe before pulling out a second pair as well. They were very well-cared for, simple sets. Not anything too fancy, but with enough magnification to make seeing tiny birds in trees a bit easier. He also took out a small moleskine notebook with a green cover.

“Follow me,” he said with a smile, “I’ll take you to a nest of goldfinches I found last week.”

He led the way into the trees. There were several clear trails through them, some smaller than others, and Baz seemed confident in where he was going. He frequented these woods often enough to know them like the back of his hand, and easily led the way through the trees. It was a few minutes before he stopped. He gestured for Chrysanthe to be quiet for a moment, then turned to her.

“I hear them,” he said, and was quiet again. Among the other noises of the forest was a burbling little bird song, and he grinned. “There, you hear that? See if you can spot them. You’re looking for a little brown, black, and white bird with a red face and gold flashes on its wings.”

[Chrysanthe Palmifer]

Late Morning, 29 Loshis, 2710
A Patch of Woods near Deventry

It really wasn’t that long of a walk to Deventry. They went through Doxeter, of course, and then over and through Ameter, where all the older students lived. They went very nearly past Amaryllis’s dorm, and for a moment Chrysanthe thought of saying something, because she knew which window was Amaryllis’s, or at least she thought she did. She knew which corner it was – and it was a corner room – and if she counted, Chrysanthe thought, she’d be able to find it.

Chrysanthe didn’t say anything, and she didn’t count either, and she didn’t even really look at the building very long. She didn’t really want to, just now. Baz didn’t say anything either, and then Chrysanthe felt it had been rather too long to start talking again, and that she would have missed the opportunity to say something, if she’d even wanted to.

So they walked the rest of the way in silence. Baz didn’t seem to mind; Chrysanthe glanced over a couple times, and he looked like he usually did, sort of smiling. She wasn’t sure how she looked. Mostly she kept her gaze forward; the sun was rising a bit more, and some of the morning fog disbursing, and it was a rather nice day, especially for Loshis.

“Thanks,” Chrysanthe said, taking the binoculars from Baz. She hadn’t used them very much, but she was familiar with the principle, and she’d used microscopes and all. She held onto them, comfortably firm, and went off the path with Baz, making her way after him into the forest. There were trails and all, at least, and it wasn’t so muddy, although Chrysanthe saw immediately why he’d suggested boots.

Chrysanthe hadn’t been talking or anything, and she bristled a little when Baz made a quiet gesture at her, but she didn’t say anything, or even move, because her feet crackled awfully loudly against the ground, even when she meant to walk quietly.

I hear them, Baz said.

Chrysanthe glanced around. She heard the dripping of water, and a rustling like the wind. She heard a little scratching sound. She heard –

Chrysanthe’s eyes went wide, and she glanced up overhead. She nodded eagerly back at Baz, as if his enthusiasm were a contagious disease she’d caught. She searched the bits of the trees; there was some light streaming through the leaves and all. For a moment, she didn’t see anything at all, nothing but the wind stirring the leaves just a tiny little bit. But she watched, patient, one hand on the binoculars.

“Oh,” Chrysanthe gasped, very softly. Her hand came out and fastened onto Baz’s sleeve. “Look,” she whispered, letting go and gesturing up at the trees. “There, is it…?”

There was a small rounded sort of bird hopping along a branch; it flashed through a patch of sunlight, and there was a hint of red and gold amidst brown. Chrysanthe watched, intently, eyes wide; a tiny little smile spread over her face, slowly, warming the harsh lines of it. She forgot the binoculars; she forgot everything, half-breathless, watching the little bird.

[Sebastian Morgenstern]

Loshis 29, 2710

A patch of woods near Deventry, late morning.

Baz had to stifle a laugh with the back of his hand as Chrysanthe’s eyes went wide at the goldfinch’s song. She studied the trees with the same intensity that she studied her books. He looked up as well, trying to see if he could spy the little creature. She saw it before he did, and grabbed at his sleeve to get his attention. He looked where she pointed, and spotted the bird as it took off, lighting on another branch a little ways away.

“That’s it,” he said with a nod, his voice hushed.

She was so excited, and it was a relief to see her so happy after what he had walked in on earlier. He was glad he had invited her, and glad she had still been eager to go. He felt, perhaps, that she had needed this. A distraction from everything else. He raised the binoculars to his eyes, focusing on the little bird as it sang it’s warbling song. He was rather fond of the sound. Goldfinches had one of his favourite calls out of all the birds he’d learned to identify so far.

“That’s the female,” he told Chrysanthe. He lowered his binoculars and gestured to hers. “Look at her face. See how the red doesn’t go past her eyes? The males have a much larger red patch, so there’s less white.”

He turned and began scanning the trees, looking for the nest he had seen the other day. He had some idea of where it was in relation to where they were now, but he had entered the woods from a slightly different spot before. It took him a minute, but he eventually caught sight of a bit of red in a tree some feet to their left. A quick look through the binoculars confirmed it, and he stepped a bit closer to Chrysanthe, placing his hand on her shoulder and turning her slightly so she could see it, too.

“Her partner’s watching the nest,” he said, “It can be hard to tell them apart at first, but if you compare him to his mate, it’s easier to see the difference.”

[Chrysanthe Palmifer]

Late Morning, 29 Loshis, 2710
A Patch of Woods near Deventry

Chrsyanthe had nearly forgotten about the binoculars until Baz lifted his. She lifted hers as well.

It took her a bit to remember quite how to use them, but after a little trial and error she did, and she focused carefully on the face of the small bird, scarcely breathing for fear of losing it. It flew then, in a sudden burst of wings and color, and Chrysanthe let out a startled little gasp.

She tried to search with the binoculars; it didn’t quite work. She lowered them instead, looking through the branches. After a moment she saw the small bird once more, and lifted the glasses rather intently again.

Baz’s touch on her shoulder was a surprise. Chrysanthe followed him, turning, and lifted her gaze to where he’d indicated. “Oh! By the - yes, I see him. Is that brown mass there, is that the nest?” She smiled at Baz; she lifted her binoculars once more, watching intently.

It was a bit hard without seeing them together, but Chrysanthe did think she could have told the birds apart. They were lovely, she thought, smiling. She’d always liked the more colorful birds in Reedlyn, as they were easier to spot and to remember, but she found she quite liked the goldfinches also, now that she knew what to look for.

The bird hopped to a new branch; Chrysanthe followed him carefully with her gaze, and lifted her binoculars once more to admire him. There was a tiny little chirping sound; Chrysanthe turned back to the nest, eyes wide.

She lifted the binoculars; it was more a sense of movement than anything, like a shifting beyond the bits of twigs and fuzzy grasses. “Oh,” Chrysanthe whispered again. A little hum of bastliness swept through her field. She lowered the binoculars and grinned at Baz, very brightly.

“I see why you like it,” Chrysanthe said, very softly. She didn’t want to frighten the birds off; she wasn’t sure if raising her voice would. She lifted the binoculars again, looking at the male bird, and then the shifting chirping movement in the nest once more.

She had never really done anything like this, Chrysanthe realized. She had seen lots of birds - she liked them - but she had seen them sort of incidentally, while reading or walking or having a picnic in the woods. She hadn’t gone and sought them out; the closest perhaps she had come was bringing seeds for them, which she and Amaryllis had done sometimes. This felt very different, and Chrysanthe thought she liked it better, somehow. It was nice to go to the birds, rather than to make them come to her.

“How did you find them?” Chrysanthe asked, curiously, still looking up at the birds. “Did it take ages?”

[Sebastian Morgenstern]

Loshis 29, 2710

The woods near Deventry, late morning.

Her excitement only grew as he showed her the other bird, and the nest. Baz couldn't help but smile even broader at the wave of warmth that passed through Crysanthe's field as she noticed the little ones in the nest. It was something he hadn't felt from her before, and it made him even more glad that he had brought her out to the woods. He had gotten to see a side of her that made it clear he'd made a good choice in being so persistent. There was more to Chrysanthe Palmifer than stiffness and prickliness, and it was truly rewarding to see it.

I see why you like it, she said, before becoming transfixed once more by the little creatures darting about. Baz watches them too. The mother eventually returned to the nest. Her mate took off, likely thankful for the break from watching the noisy little fledgelings. Chrysanthe eventually spoke again, and asked him how long it had taken to find them. Whether he had searched for ages looking for their nest. Baz shook his head.

"I actually sort of just… stumbled across them," he admitted. "I don't usually come out here with any real goal. I like to just… see what I can see."

He cast his gaze out towards the trees. "Sometimes I get a bit… overwhelmed by things," he said, "Noise, and people, and everything else. It makes it hard to think. Coming out here helps me relax and focus on something else for a while. The woods are always peaceful."

He looked back to her, and smiled a bit more broadly. "I'm really happy you're enjoying yourself." He gestured down the path. "Shall we carry on and see what else we can find? There's more in these woods than just the goldfinches."

[Chrysanthe Palmifer]

Late Morning, 29 Loshis, 2710
A Patch of Woods near Deventry

Chrysanthe lowered the binoculars and turned to Baz as he answered. She watched him when he looked out at the trees, for just a moment, and then she turned and looked as well.

There were a lot of things, Chrysanthe thought, she could’ve said. She felt the same about reading, really. It was really exactly how she felt, actually, and it was sort of strange to hear someone else say it, even if he’d said it about bird-watching and not actually about reading. Books were always peaceful, or at least they made sense. They had a beginning, and an end, and Chrysanthe knew what she was supposed to make of them, and all that came between, or at least enough of it.

She was looking at Baz again when he looked back. He smiled, and it caught her by surprise. Chrysanthe glanced down, and then she smiled too, and nodded. “Yes, let’s.” She glanced up at the nest again, and smiled one last time, following Baz deeper into the woods.

Chrysanthe thought she’d have been rather happy just looking for the birds; seeing them was like a special treat on top. Baz was terribly good at it; Chrysanthe would be walking along through the leaves when he’d stop and take them off this way or that, or point overhead towards a flicker of movement.

All the same, Chrysanthe found she was unexpectedly pleased by the birds they saw, many of which she’d never known the names of before. The Anaxi blue tit was terriblydarling, a very little bird which in the sunlight proved to be a lovely little blue color, with a white face and a yellow stomach. As they left the clearing, it fluttered off and Chrysanthe could have sworn it hung upside down from a branch.

The hollow thump, thump on a tree even Chrysanthe knew; the woodpecker had a bright red patch on its head and around its rear, and otherwise was mostly black and white. Baz knew tha name of that one also, the great spotted woodpecker. There were more besides – the great grey shrike, small and rather fat, with a splotch of black on its face which looked like a mask, and doves, too, and even a small quail which ran, head bobbing, across their path and vanished into the underbrush.

It wasn’t long before Chrysanthe’s cheeks and the tip of her nose were pink with cold in the damp woods, but she was beaming. Her stomach was grumbling awfully – she seemed to always be hungry lately – but it had been well worth it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun. They were watching a dark shape overhead that Baz said he thought might be an oriole, in a very excited sort of voice. It shifted, and the light caught a streak of bright yellow feathers.

“I’d call it gold,” Chrysanthe beamed at Baz. “Don’t you think?” She lifted her binoculars again, watching intently.

[Sebastian Morgenstern]

Loshis 29, 2710

The woods near Deventry, almost noon.

They were having a wonderful time, galavanting through the woods after birds. They had found the turtle dove Baz had heard that morning, or at least a turtle dove. It could have been a different one, but it was the fact that they had found one that delighted Baz the most. They were among the first migratory birds to return to Anaxas in the spring, he had explained. It meant that the weather was warming up enough that the other birds wouldn’t be far behind. The quail had been a nice surprise. It ran right out in front of them, scampering along into another bush, likely startled by their wandering. Baz liked quails. The way they ran, bobbing along, it was rather darling, he thought.

They had seen so many others as well. A few times Baz, had to break out his newly acquired birding guide, which he was happy to share with Chrys as they tried to identify the ones that Baz didn’t know already. They were both fairly red-nosed from the cold, but having seen the supposed oriole darting through the trees had reinvigorated them somewhat. Baz held his binoculars up to try and get a glimpse of the bird. He did see the flash of gold. The trouble with orioles was that they stayed rather high up in the trees, eating the bugs and such they found there, and rarely came down except in the very early spring when they fed on fruit and such instead.

“I wish it would come down,” Baz said ruefully, “Or sing, or something. I know what they sound like, I’d be able to tell for sure then.”

It was at this moment that his stomach gurgled loud enough to be heard. His cheeks went a bit pink, and he lowered the binoculars to reach in his pocket and pull out his watch. It was very nearly noon, and he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, before he had gone and picked up Chrysanthe. He was loath to say it, but he was getting rather peckish. He sighed as he watched the flash of gold and black disappear higher into the trees.

“I think it might be a good idea to stop for lunch,” he said, “we could go find a cafe, or I’m sure mother and father wouldn’t mind if I brought you over for lunch at our house. It’s up to you, either way is fine with me.”

[Chrysanthe Palmifer]

Midday, 29 Loshis, 2710
A Patch of Woods near Deventry

Baz had told her quite a lot about orioles already. It was really all rather interesting. Chrysanthe had quite liked his birding guide also. It had never occurred to her that one could make a book discussing the recognition and identification of birds but she was immediately quite fond of both the idea of it, and the reality of Baz’s clever little book. It was certainly helpful.

“I really do think it must be,” Chrysanthe said, encouragingly; she grinned at Baz, still bright cheeked, and sniffled against a nose which seemed very keen to run.

A loud rumbling came from Baz’s direction. Chrysanthe didn’t feel so bad about her own stomach then. She’d been too upset to manage any breakfast; maybe she’d have had a chocolate or two, but -

She ought to throw them out, Chrysanthe thought, feeling a twist in her stomach. Or else ought she to keep them? Just because a man was odious, did one have to refuse any sort of gift from him? She’d already eaten so many of the chocolates though; was it tantamount to an acceptance? A prickle of cold fear raced down her spine, and she shivered in the shade of the trees. She wouldn’t, Chrysanthe thought, rather desperately. She couldn’t.

Chrysanthe found she wasn’t quite so hungry anymore. She glanced at Baz, having only half-heard him. Something about food, he’d said, and options. Eating at a cafe or - his house? Chrysanthe shook her head slightly. “Either way’s fine; as you like,” she said, after a moment, glancing at him and then away at the trees once more.

Amaryllis wouldn’t have given her the chocolates, Chrysanthe decided, after a few moments of rational thought, if eating them meant anything more than just eating them. Amaryllis wasn’t the sort to be caught off guard by such things; if the chocolates were a tacit acceptance, she would have known and have thought them straight out. Therefore either they meant nothing at all, or everything was already determined and there was nothing either of them could do, and so it didn’t matter then either. That wasn’t really very helpful, but she supposed it sorted the chocolates at least.

And, Chrysanthe thought, feeling suddenly rather sharp, if he thought to buy her affection for him and his son, Mr. Montrefort would learn better rather quickly. She would see to that. Especially given how subpar the caramels had been.

Chrysanthe had not the least idea that a grim, tight little smile had formed on her face. She turned to look at Baz, taking a deep breath. Her stomach growled also, maybe not quite as loud as his but loudly all the same.

Wasting away over things you couldn’t control was for helpless women in novels, Chrysanthe decided. She was growing, and she was hungry.

[Sebastian Morgenstern]

Loshis 29, 2710

The woods near Deventry, around lunch.

As you like, Chrysanthe had said. Baz tucked the birding guide and the binoculars back in his bag and shifted it on his shoulder slightly. He considered the merits of both options. A cafe would be easy to find, though likely rather busy at this time of day. His house was also equally as easy to find, and was very likely to be no more crowded than it usually was. His brow quirked as he turned to Chrysanthe and noticed the strange little smile on her face, but she took a deep breath and turned to him, and it seemed like everything had worked itself out. Her stomach grumbled too, and he smiled.

“Let’s just go to my house,” he said, “all the cafes are likely busy this time of day, it’ll be less of a wait.”

He led the way out of the patch of woods, which thankfully didn’t take long. Pausing a moment to get his bearings, he then continued along, leading Chrysanthe back into Deventry. He turned to look at her, and smiled.

“We should do this again sometime. You seemed to really enjoy it.”

They continued along through the streets for a short while, Baz confidently leading the way, until they came to a rather charming brick townhouse. It was set a bit back from the street, with a small wrought-iron gate leading to the front walk and steps. The house itself was being overtaken on two sides by ivy, but this only added to the charm. Baz opened the gate and held it for Chrysanthe to come through, before closing it behind them and leading the way up the stairs and through the front door. Once inside, they were almost immediately greeted by an excited young girl of about eight or nine, with dark hair done up with a bow, and a small smattering of freckles across her nose. Her expression went from delighted to somewhat less so upon seeing who it was.

“Baz!” she said, frowning slightly, “I was hoping it was Mummy.”

Baz grinned. “Is that any way to say hello?” he asked, a little note of teasing in his voice, “We have a guest.”

The little girl blushed, looking to Chrysanthe. “Hello!” she said, with a quick little curtsy, having suddenly remembered her manners, “My name is Millicent. It’s lovely to meet you, miss.”

[Chrysanthe Palmifer]

Midday, 29 Loshis, 2710
Baz’s House, Deventry

Chrysanthe smiled back at Baz when he smiled at her, and said they ought to go birding again. “I did,” she agreed, cheerfully, “and that sounds quite good.” She really had enjoyed it; for all that she was terribly hungry now, and her face was quite cold - her cheeks and nose both - she was still full of the excitement of searching for the birds.

It was rather a nice hobby, Chrysanthe felt, as it required both physical and mental exertion. There was the physical aspect of making one’s way through the woods - really they had walked quite a lot - and the mental aspect of paying keen attention and putting together the puzzle of identifying a bird. She didn’t know if she wished to do it every weekend; she was, unfortunately, quite sure she couldn’t afford her own binoculars.

There was money, still; Amaryllis said it would be as it always was, with tuition paid and a bit of money at the start of term for books, and whatever was leftover from that for snacks and the occasional meal and all.

Chrysanthe didn’t think, though, there would be any more gifts. Not, she reflected, that she should ever have asked her parents for a binocular. Generally, if they remembered insignificant things like her birthday, they would have gotten her a dress in some awful girlish color, with lace and ribbons and all sorts of things Chrysanthe felt made her look all of about ten. Her height was the best proof against actually looking so, but she felt an extremely tall ten year old was somehow even worse than a regular one.

It was strange to go back onto campus. They hadn’t really left, of course, and Chrysanthe hadn’t forgotten or anything, but it was like being in the woods one moment, and then back in school the next.

She thought of telling Baz he would like the Northern Tors, but it wasn’t as if she could invite him to visit - not that the fire at the beginning of the year had really changed that either - and so she didn’t quite know how to say it.

It was all right to walk in silence, though. It wasn’t the uncomfortable sort of silence, and Baz was smiling, and Chrysanthe found she was too.

Baz had of course said they were going to his house, and Chrysanthe knew his father was a professor and that they lived in Brunnhold, as did, really, lots of other people. But she hadn’t ever really spent time in any of the houses there or even actually the neighborhoods, and she only realized as they had approached the gate that she had envisioned something like a really large dorm. It was definitely a house, though; there wasn’t any mistaking it.

Chrysanthe came in after Baz, having done the best to stamp the mud from her boots. She felt rather shabby suddenly, a bit dirty; she had the feeling her braids had gone wispy around the top. She tried to imagine how her mother would have reacted to seeing her in such a condition, and then promptly let go of that very strange thought.

“Hi Millicent,” Chrysanthe bowed politely, and straightened back up. She wasn’t entirely sure she knew how to talk to a child, but Millicent seemed nearly person aged, at least. “I’m Chrysanthe. Do you know,” she glanced at Baz, and then back at the younger girl, “I think you, Baz and Georgie are the only people I know who grew up on campus. What’s it like?”