Work Text:
As Getian walked up the stairs of the residential building, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of unease. Peering outside of the manor-ish, rimmed windows, he was greeted by the sight of looming, blocky buildings placed in even rows, expanding as far as the eye could see. Having spent most of his life in the mountains, he was unfazed by the daunting size of megastructures, but his surroundings felt picturesque, almost liminal. Then again, such was the nature of the world within the suitcase.
Further up the stairs, he could see the backside of a silver-haired lady, covered in bluesh-black suit with aqua embellishments. Perched upon her head was a large, almost comical tophat, with a short rim and aqua-colored ribbon that matched her attire. Getian had asked her about the nature of this world as he signed the registration form, but her responses had been vague, as if she didn’t understand much of it herself. Her comments on his feathers too…
“Please make sure you don’t litter your feathers all across the floor.”
Shaking his head, he chuckled quietly, pressing his wings closer to himself as he quickened his pace, the suitcase attached to his torso shaking with each step. All members of his species were especially peevish about the quality of their feathers, and he was no different.
They stopped before an old, almost vintage door, the wood covered in a rich oaken scent and the gold paint flaking off of the handle. Turning towards Getian, the woman began, her voice flat and emotionless.
“Due to the sudden influx of residents entering the briefcase, we had an unprecedented shortage of rooms. Thus, we had to make some…accommodations.”
Accommodations, huh?
“As a result, your room has been reallocated to an existing room, where you will be living with another guest. They have been selected based on their attributes to minimise conflict of interests.”
Turning back to the door, she knocked on it thrice, the sound crisp and clean. From inside, the sound of someone walking can be heard, before the door handle twisted and opened outwards.
Hair, white and messy, with silky tendrils spraying out irrationally from its flayed edges. Two thick fur sleeves covered his gloved hands, spreading out across his body in a frugal robe that smelled of ink. And as Getian met his eyes, his mouth opened in the beginning of an exclamation, his wings tensing in surprise.
No–no way…!
He’s…
…here too?
***
Two months ago, Getian felt the cool, gentle autumn wind throb under his wings as he glided over the forest. Above, grey clouds plastered the sky, painting the landscape in a dull, morose shade, as if the world itself mourned the withering of the leaves and the trees. From above, it almost felt poetic, watching the orange canopy below pass by, its edges spreading to the horizon like an all-consuming fire.
A few more minutes of flying later, Getian noticed something standing in a distant wheat field. Specks of black and white fluttered around it, and he could sense that they were birds from his intuition.
My brethren, what are you up to now?
The distant chirping of chickadees entered his ears as he approached. Looking at the figure, he could feel its name on the tip of his tongue, but he still couldn’t quite put his finger on it. After ransacking his memories for the term, it finally came to him.
Aha, it must be a scarecrow! Those things that humans use.
As he watched the other birds perch on the scarecrow’s shoulder, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of curiosity get the better of him. What was so special about scarecrows, anyway? What about their soft, silky straw flesh was so optimal for perching? Maybe he should also give it a shot…
He dived down across the wheat field, pressing his wings tightly against his body. With a strong beat of his wings, he decelerated, generating just enough momentum to hover momentarily as he descended on the scarecrow’s shoulder. A strong gust of air rippled through the field, spooking the chickadees who subsequently flew off into the sky.
He felt the scarecrow’s shoulder press against his thighs as he landed. Letting out a groan, he stretched out his wings, wiggling them before dropping them back down onto his sides. Sighing, he leaned back, feeling the scarecrow’s head press into his hips as he relaxed.
Hey, this isn’t half bad. Maybe the other birds are onto something after all. Also, are all scarecrows this warm?
The scarecrow moved.
With a shout, Getian tumbled off of its shoulder, landing amongst the stalks of wheat. Quickly, he scrambled back, looking up as the scarecrow turned towards him.
The “scarecrow” was in fact a slender, tall gentleman with white hair. He stared at Getian with an indiscernible expression, his face muscles twitching, as if he was trying to decide between laughing and being outraged. Spluttering, Getian quickly scampered to his feet indignantly, trying to find an appropriate apology for the situation.
“I-I-I apologise for my behavior!” He finally stammered, before spinning around and hastily flying off with as much dignity as he could manage. After such an embarrassing encounter, he never wanted to meet that man ever again.
Especially not standing in his doorway as his to-be roommate.
***
“What…chance, haha…”
Getian rubbed the back of his head with his wings, a bashful smile creeping over his face.
“If either of you have any objections to the rooming arrangement, voice them now.” The silver-haired woman offered, her tone firm. “Otherwise, keep your peace.”
Getian opened his mouth to speak, but the white-haired man spoke first.
“No.”
The first impression Getian had of his voice was of a low bass. It felt like the way the wind stroked his feathers, yet also sounded like the sight of distant cumulonimbus clouds, strong and dense. Like a seagull longing for the humming of the waves, his voice captivated Getian, drawing him in with a more primal desire than he had ever experienced.
“If the gentleman here doesn’t have any objections, I will be…quite complacent with our rooming arrangements.”
“I–I have no objections either.” Getian remarked, sighing in relief. Luckily for him, his roommate doesn't hold grudges against oversized humanoid birds.
“It’s settled then.” As if orchestrated, the landlord pulled a form out of her shoulder bag, handing it to the two of them. “Please enjoy your stay in the suitcase. Have a good rest of your day.”
The sound of heels tapping on wood descended down the stairs. With a slam of the door, Getian and his new roommate were alone.
After a few seconds of awkward silence, the white-haired man moved out of the doorway, beckoning for Getian to enter. “Come in…please.” he spoke in the same soothing voice as before.
Getian stepped through the doorway, the sound of talons on polished wood following each step he took. Inside, it smelled of old books and ink, the source evident from the bottles of ink lying on a table and the shelves of books perched around a closed door. On the left of the table, a set of stairs rose along the wall, leading up to another door a floor above the one they were on.
It felt like the apartment was an extension of the white-haired gentleman—antique and reserved, tucking itself in neatly from the outside world.
Believing that it would be most appropriate to introduce himself first, Getian spoke. “My name is Getian,” he began, bowing his head slightly in greeting. “Thank you for allowing me to perch in your room, room…mate. I hope it won’t be too much of a hindrance.”
“Not…at all.” The edges of the white-haired man’s lips frayed into a smile, gentle and faint. “…call me Zima.”
He stutters a lot, Getian noted to himself idly. He wasn’t against it, in fact it was kind of…cute? Glancing down at the table, he could see pieces of half-written text on the papers, covered in dark smudges of ink. They were in a foreign language, one he couldn’t recognise; they differed from the flowing, smooth characters of traditional Chinese, instead resembling a more compact language, with jagged edges and corners. It intrigued him, and he noted himself to ask Zima about it later.
Reaching the base of the stairs, the two began to walk up the steps, with Getian only being able to maintain an awkward waddle using his talons while Zima walked with all the elegance and grace of an aristocrat.
Inside, the room was cozy and compact, covered in a thin layer of dust. The smell of aging wood permeated the air, and a white light streamed through the singular window on the opposite wall, illuminating a petite desk and chair underneath. The impression of a room slumbering in between the folds of time came to Getian, a secret that the world forgot.
“It’s…yours now.”
Getian looked around with a controlled smile, taking in the foreign environment with equal parts caution and anticipation.
“Thank you, Zima.”
“My…pleasure.”
With a reserved smile, Zima took the doorhandle, intending to leave.
“If you… need anything…I will be in my room.”
Closing the door behind him, he left. Sighing, Getian sat down on the side of the bed, unlatching his suitcase from his hip and resting it on the floor.
And then he realised.
I forgot to apologise for mistaking him for a scarecrow! Groaning, he put one wing to his forehead, lamenting himself for his forgetfulness. I hope he doesn’t see it as rude…actually, I hope he doesn’t remember it at all…
Above, the chandelier-like lamp stared down at him, its bulbs glistening in the white light. Years of dust accumulated on its surface gave it an almost frosty sheen, like the moisture on the surface of eyes.
Zima’s eyes.
Mysterious, calming, like two snow globes whirling in his head. Two kaleidoscopes peering into a foreign past, into the heart of an eternal winter…
Getian blinked. Such strange tangents in his mind. Why was he—?
Nevermind.
Lulled by the ticking of a clock in some corner, the immortal bird finally laid his head on the pillow and watched the dust flake past, dreaming of scarecrows and poets and all things snow related.