on a lark

[alicornucopia]

She combs and combs the world aside and there is another world, just ahead, and she steps in.

The combed-away hole closes behind her. She puts her comb in her pocket.

Thanjen (Unbitwise)

Blueberry (kappa)

Hivers (Rockeye)

Comments

[wind_on_my_face]

“Well, yes. I haven't heard of anyone managing the other way around.

“I've been working on my symmetry, which is why I did that landing trick, and I didn't think about that I was surrounding you.”

[alicornucopia]

"Well, it was all very symmetrical," says Emily, "and you must have worked very hard on it, I bet."

[wind_on_my_face]

“It's all for fun, though; if it weren't fun I'd stop and do something else. And are you working on something out here, or do you just like scenery?”

[alicornucopia]

"I'm not working on anything special. It is very pretty scenery, isn't it?"

[wind_on_my_face]

“I suppose. This is a bit uniform for my taste; all tree tops. I like things that look different in parts, or at least from a different angle.”

[alicornucopia]

"I'm not used to forests so this is a nice change," smiles the girl. "Where do you usually prefer to be?"

[wind_on_my_face]

“No, I mean, I like being here all right, but I don't like it for its looks from this spot in particular. Just on this island in particular, I'd rather be among the trees so that instead of just green you get different kinds of bark on the trees, and lots of other plants and stuff.”

[alicornucopia]

"I did come through the trees before I climbed up here."

[wind_on_my_face]

They are looking at the trees but don't seem to have anything to say about them.

They might also be looking at her like there's something strange about her. Other than not being three glass plane bird people.

“Do you need any help?”

[alicornucopia]

"Help doing what?"

[wind_on_my_face]

“I don’t know. You're out here alone and there's nothing wrong with that but I can’t even ping you. You're wearing damaged cloth. Are you stranded?”

[alicornucopia]

"...Ping me?" she asks, clenching her hands in her jeans.

[wind_on_my_face]

“Well, yes, uninhabited islands are no place to be visiting without a radio. If you're hiding the rest of you somewhere on the other side of the island or something, then I guess that's fine and I'll leave you be. But it looks like you could be in a lot of trouble and I don't want to leave a person to starve or something.”

[alicornucopia]

"The rest of me?" she asks.

[wind_on_my_face]

“The rest of your kortarem.”

[alicornucopia]

"I don't know what you're talking about."

[wind_on_my_face]

“Your kortarem, the matter that is you and is not your body.”

The glass-plane-bird-people-person are quite sufficiently distracted that they aren't practicing their symmetry very much. The one in the middle, who is still speaking, demonstratively waves a white glass wing — which becomes transparent, loses its shape, and falls to the rock in a gloopy kind of way, leaving behind a human arm.

The rest of the glass follows, and there is a perfectly ordinary human being standing between two glass plane bird people. Still looking confused about why this maybe-stranded-or-something-stranger person is confused.

[alicornucopia]

The girl watches the glooping with a thoughtful frown.

"I don't have any of that. Will you please explain how it works?"

[wind_on_my_face]

(If he thought it was a reasonable option, he would be trying to talk to her parents, but he doesn't especially want to try asking for them. This is either a child playing make-believe really hard, or a child raised in isolation and not being taught how to live. The first does no harm to go along with for a while, and the second is a problem that needs fixing.)

“Sure! The first thing is, um—”

(He needs a lesson plan, doesn't he. He doesn't exactly remember how this was explained to him all those years ago. Compose reference request; subjects: kored & (parenting | primary education); format: split attention-friendly; preparation if needed: yes; urgent: yes; transmit. He'll live with someone maybe asking why he needed it. Later.)

“Do you have any tools with you? I mean, things that you hold in your hand, to do things with? I can give you something if you need it, but something you're familiar with using is better to start with.”

(He is so not qualified for this.)

[alicornucopia]

"...I have a pencil," she says, pulling a yellow nubbin out of her pocket. "Will that do?"

[wind_on_my_face]

“—I don't see why not,” he says, a little dubiously. “The usual sort of tool would be a thing you use to move other stuff that already exists separately, like a fork or a hammer. But it's more important that you are familiar with using it.”

[alicornucopia]

"I use pencils all the time," she nods.

[wind_on_my_face]

“Okay, so what you need to do is use it, write with it. Then try to forget it exists. You're not writing with a pencil, you're writing on the paper. Because you are writing on the paper, you can feel the texture of the paper.”

[alicornucopia]

"I don't have any paper."

[wind_on_my_face]

A portion of the previously gloopy glass lying around (which has neglected to gloop any farther downhill) pops up into his hand and forms itself into a flat rounded rectangle, also turning milky white again, and he hands it to her. It proves to have a rough surface, like frosted glass. “Paper would be better, because you're familiar with how it feels and it has a little more texture, but this should do.”

He glances around. “And you need somewhere to sit down, don't you.”

More glass moves. Now there is: a patch of rock covered in clear glass, a chair seat formed of thousands of little glass tiles hovering above it, and a child's-height desk, also lacking in legs.

“Would you like shade? Or we could move into the forest, or go somewhere else, if you prefer. We’re going to be working on this for a while.”