Chapter Text
One for Health
This place could be beautiful.
That’s his first thought when he steps out onto the white marble stones of the path, it could be beautiful. Beautiful like a quick whiff of winter air or a glistening slick sidewalk after it rains, shiny, brilliant, almost shocking.
He slashes through the nearest vine creeping by his left foot and stomps on it, it would be beautiful. If everything here didn’t want to poison and/or eat him.
The garden Parthenius was said to stretch from the lakes of Tev to the gleaming shores of the Lindom ocean beyond. But that was just a rumor and he doubted something could be so large. Daven tells himself anyway that a garden was just a garden, and an assignment is just an assignment.
The air smells of fragrant honey and hydrangea bushes, Daven covers his nose and keeps his eyes focused forward. A vine stirs beneath his foot but he ignores it as he takes another turn in the endless corridors of the open-air garden.
Vibrant green bushes flank either side of him with pure white crumbling marble walls beneath, streaked with age and inlined with silver. Cupids and angels and chipped and broken statues styled after ‘the masters’ stood at every entrance.
Daven doesn’t follow the overwhelming scents of fresh rain and cut grass, he knows no one is cutting grass here. He could hear birds up ahead, the twinkling sound of songbirds mixing with the honks of swans and brays of ravens farther in.
Daven turns his head slightly when he spots the large unblinking eyes of a crow, it’s feathers were milk white and eyes a splitting red. It’s white feathers ruffle and it watches him with a bloody intensity.
He shivers, it was said King Cephissus bread every albino animal he could get his hands on.
Pure, fresh he called them, untouched by darkness. Daven takes another step around a pool of unnaturally blue water and keeps his head down. His footsteps sound like the barks of hound dogs in a hen house but he doesn’t sense anything following him yet.
Getting past the white panther was one feat, but he was told that was the easy part. Daven quickly surveys each new garden archway he passes, studying the faces of the clean-shaven cupids.
“Seven,” he mutters to himself, “seven and a deer.”
That’s what the hunter told him, ten turns in and fifteen paces forward. The calling of the birds increases as he eases toward the shadow of the sun in the west, the hairs on his arms were still standing on end.
“Seven,” he ducks down beneath a long hanging branch, “seven and a deer.”
He cuts down another green vine that twitches as he approaches and jumps over a pool of bright blue acid that was dissolving a small white hare in it. Daven purses his lips and doesn’t look back as he sees the pathway start to open up.
“Seven,” he makes sure the sun is still high in the sky, “seven. And a deer.” The path opens up into a vast archway that rivaled some of the trees in height. His eyebrows raise and he starts to count. “One,” he whispers, “two, three, four…”
Seven cherub faces. And a deer in the very center that’s antlers had fallen off long ago, Daven draws his sword from his waist and crouches lower to the ground. His eyes shift back and forth as he scans the ground and the rustling of the nearby bushes, taking neat slow steps.
He takes a deep breath and creeps quietly over the hard marble path.
Grass sprouts up in patches around the area and bushes grow wild with clean white roses covering them nearby, he sees the marble fountain at the center of the garden square. It must be central location since the fountain is enormous, with a scantily clad chipped woman pouring water down as it’s centerpiece.
Daven wants to whistle at it and the ornate benches surrounding the fountain, but he wasn’t dumb enough to draw attention to himself that easily. He rounds the square, eyeing each new plant and small bird overhead.
The sparrows are stark white dots up above and Daven starts to tense again, his muscles bunching up and nerves coiling, the adrenaline builds in his veins. He sees on giant oak tree at the corner of the square, enormous and untamed.
The branches are heavy with leaves and he can see some of the roots forcing their way up in the cracking marble around it.
He crouches lower to the ground and starts to inch forward, the Hunter said this is where he first found the creature. Daven’s eyes trail up and down the trunk, scanning the leaves and tangled arms of the tree. It takes him a minute, but he pauses mid-stride when he sees it, an eye, a bright green eye with a plume surrounding it.
He breathes through his nose, the eye of a peacock feather.
“Hark,” He raises his sword toward the branches, “creature of the Poison Garden, of the Fair Ones, of King Cephissus’s curse, listen to my words and yield.”
Daven felt silly even saying this outloud, but the townspeople were certain this was the only way, even the children’s play included this bit.
“Bend to the will of man with these words, be tamed and bequeath your riches to the outside world. Tetamitus-”
“Bequeath?” He hears a clear, rasping voice. “Did they send me a royal clown this time?”
Daven hears a gentle thump and sees something drop down to the ground next to the tree, landing tipsily and dusting itself off before standing up straight. Daven takes a long moment to pause, his body going stiff and thoughts bursting. It wasn’t pure white, but it wasn’t what Daven was expecting either. It had a face for one thing.
“Uh,” he blinks a couple times, “dimatia, sviva, kuji-”
“Okay, so now you’ve turned to gibberish.” The strange boy waves his hand in the air, “Excellent, please escort yourself out when you’re finished.”
Daven’s brow furrows, “exodus, felicitus, kestrener.”
The figure was still standing there, he had on a fine blue vest and pair of brown pants that seemed tailored and fitted. He had a white pressed shirt tied all the way up past his throat and a line of brass buttons down his front.
He was noticeably barefoot with sun-kissed skin and fair hair that curled gently on top of his head. It was also noticeably well-maintained.
But that wasn’t the main aspect Daven was focusing on. Mostly it was the arch of feathers bursting from his skin and hanging over his head like a halo.
Green, long, feathers that stuck directly out of his skin and made an arch over him, tiny ones framed his hairline and brought out the poison green of his eyes.
Daven shifts from foot to foot, “oi,” he changes tactics, “are you the peacock fellow?”
The boy raises both eyebrows and tilts his head to the side, his eyes glance pointedly up at his own feathers and then back at him. He sniffs, “No.” He responds dryly and Daven makes a face.
“Okay,” Daven shakes his head, “Scratch that. Are you the one with the magic feathers at least?”
The boy wrinkles his brow and looks ready to turn away, Daven notes the long trail of feathers behind him that dragged against the ground. “No. I’m a regular peacock, squawk, squawk, please exit the garden to your left.”
Daven looks off the side and takes a step toward him, the boy watches him carefully, eyes following him with a quick hardness to them.
“Let’s try this again,” he tries for a smile, “My name is Daven, I’m a soldier.” He sheathed his sword and approaches with his hands up, “I’m not here to fight…”
“Fascinating,” the boy picks at a scab on his hand. “The sword is for making friends I take it.”
He could have rolled his eyes, “a precaution,” he says simply, “I have my sword…” He gives him a pointed look, “and you have an awful lot of feathers.”
“Well Daven,” he says slowly, “you are very observant. And less dead then most people that come in this way.”
He cocks his head to the side, “Yes?”
“You should keep it that way,” he says with a wicked grace coming over his placid features. “What do you want?”
He hums loudly, “the question is…” He looks him up and down, “what do you want?”
The boys gaze focuses on him, “What do you have?”
He reaches for his belt, “I have money.”
He snorts, loudly, “And pray tell,” The boy places his hands on his hips, “what use do I have for money?”
Daven open and closes his mouth, “shoes?” He offers weakly as he looks down.
The tuts and shakes his head, “Well Daven, I’m Ellis. I don’t need your money, and unless you’re a shoemaker I’m not getting any shoes.” He waves his hand in the air as if to shoo him, “so kindly fuck off.”
Daven grips his sword a little tighter, “happily,” he puts a hand out, “for one feather.”
The boy rolls his eyes with great dramatics, “absolutely not.”
“You can’t be using all of them,” he takes another step forward and the boy, Ellis, takes another step back.
“Look, while I’m impressed you made it this far in,” he examines him with a sniff, “I’m not in the habit of rewarding trespassers. Or giving my things away really.”
Maybe that’s why you’re a bird now. He doesn’t say that.
“Do you own this place?”
The boy gives a short harsh laugh, “ask me more dumb questions.”
“If no one owns it, then I’m not trespassing, in fact,” he puts a finger in the air, “I’m a guest.”
The boy cracks a smile, but it’s not a happy one, “absolutely sound logic, I’ll be on my way now. Make yourself at home, the guest room is the second door on the left.”
Daven rolls his eyes this time, “haha.”
“See? I’ve even entertained you, I always was a great host.”
“You’re not even using all of them!” He throws his hands in the air and Ellis just regards him flatly.
“I’m done with this,” he turns around and Daven tenses before lunging for him, Ellis jumps away and jerks his head up. “Oi!”
Daven lunges for his tail, “Just one.”
Ellis starts running, looking over his shoulder with a sharp glare, “I will have this place eat you.”
Daven pauses for a moment before running after him, “it already tried.”
He dodges back and forth, “I’ll make it try harder,” he bears his teeth, but Daven was already in pursuit.
“Just one! I bet it won’t even hurt,” he jumps over a blue acid puddle and watches the peacock boy jump onto one of the benches to avoid him.
“For you maybe,” he scowls down at him, “all you noble sorts are the same.” He spit the words and Daven makes a face.
“Noble?” He cocks his head to the side, “well that’s the first time I’ve been called that.”
Ellis’s eyebrow twitches, “excuse me, not noble, ‘knight-wannabe’.”
Daven gaze becomes hard, “I’m getting that feather.”
“Not on your life,” the boy hops away again and they begin a somewhat absurd cat-and-mouse game as Ellis runs down a path and Daven sprints after him.
“You can’t run!” He cries as he runs and his lungs start to burn a little bit.
“Then what am I doing?” The boy flashes a smarmy smile over his shoulder and takes a hard left.
“Don’t think you can’t g,” he skids to a stop to follow him, nearly avoiding a snapping vine thrusting out to snag him. He jumps over it and his eyes go wide. “Aha!” He cries out and points toward the vine.
“Yes!” He crows in triumph as he sees the boy’s long tail had gotten snagged in the bush as well. A single long feather had dropped. “Hahahaha!” He says again somewhat manically and feels like dancing.
He sees the boy peek out from around the next corner, “this doesn’t mean an-”
“You thought you were so smart,” he takes his sword out and slashes at the vines to get at the feather, “look at that!”
The boy narrows his eyes at him, “don’t cream your pants over it. It’s rude to show stranger’s your bedroom face.”
Daven frowns decidedly at him, “I’m going to enjoy taking this feather from you I hope you know.”
“Oh bet you will,” he bounces his eyebrows up and down, “I bet you’ll enjoy yourself a lot with it.”
Daven wrinkled his nose, tearing at the vines and making it drop the feather into his outstretched hand, “On that note, I’m definitely leaving now.”
He waves, “don’t come back.”
“And it isn’t for me,” Daven defends, “this is for the whole village. So… yeah.” He turns around, his face screwing up as he worked himself up.
“Yes, yes, a very good wannabe knight.” He sings and waves after him, “have fun.” He drags the word out and Daven shakes his head.
He growls but doesn’t look back as he makes his way back toward the front of the garden. A white hyena tries to spring on him on the way and two pit traps are tripped on his way back. Daven just sidesteps them and secretly hopes he’ll never have to come back here, sure, it was pretty.
A pretty mess, but not quite beautiful enough to be worth dying over.