How Green Becomes Wood

"He used to be, he's done a lot of work since those days," she paused, reflecting on those years, and then deeming it necessary, firmly and emphatically said, "He was never angry with me, not like that, he was angry at the world."

She breathed deeply, "I like all sorts of music, like you. My favourite right now is probably Florence and the Machine or Bat for Lashes. And you can just call me Daizi, or Tarot, my friends call me that. I'm not a missus, anyway: Dr. Daizi Wahid, not Mrs. Daizi Wahid." She wasn't offended, just trying to validate why he didn't need to use honorifics when addressing her.
 
"I don't know either of those bands," Alec said. "I'd like to look it up sometime. I'm not very up to date. Sometimes we go to the library and use their computers, and I look up music then. I do know one, a solo act, that is kind of new. Avi Kaplan? Have you heard him? He has an absolutely amazing range. But, oh, I am taking up your time. You probably have other things you need to do."
 
"I haven't, but maybe later today we can pull up our favourite songs for each other. We can use Dark's computer, mine is... confusing, for those who are not used to it. Gives you something to do, anyway... Are you bored? Would you like a book to read or something?" She wasn't entirely sure what teenagers did for fun, but she was sure sitting alone in a room all day with nothing to do wasn't it.

"And no, I don't really have anything to do today, I took the day off of work, and I utterly refuse to work at home when I explicitly said I would not be working," she failed to uphold this vow often, "my grant proposals can wait. But," She stood up and headed to the door, "if you're tired, I understand, I'll go annoy the professor."
 
"I'm not bored," Alec lied. "Just being in out of the cold is enough for me. I really do not wish to outstay my welcome by making you feel like you have to entertain me. I am sure I can find something to keep myself occupied and well out of your hair. I feel we have already imposed a lot by surprising you last night and then you had to make breakfast for us. No, no, you have done more than enough." They were indebted enough to these two people. There was no way he was going to ask for anything more.
 
"Mm, maybe I'll bring you my book then," Daizi teased, "then you'll be doing me a favor, nobody reads it. The culmination of my entire PhD dissertation, and the immediately subsequent years, collecting dust. That's the true tragedy of academia."

Standing in the doorway she said, "I'm sure Dark will come around to check on you too. He's exercising right now, but after. He'll probably rewrap your ankle. But for now, I think I should probably get dressed."
 
"I would be happy to read that, mmm, yes," Alec said, trying to cover up the fact that he'd nearly said "ma'am" again. It was a hard habit to kick! "I'm sure it's a great book, thank you."

Dark would come back? Alec was beginning to think he'd turned over the babysitting to his wife. He glanced down at his ankle. "I can probably do it myself if I have the bandages. I'm used to that kind of thing."
 
"I'll bring that to you, then," Daizi promised, "I'm quite proud of it, one day perhaps I'll adapt it to fiction. Readership would increase, hopefully. I'll bring you bandages too, but either way he'll come by-- He is, as the kids say, inevitable."

Her face spoke volumes about the love she had for him, and for all of her empathy, she failed to conceptualize a world where someone wouldn't be happy to see him.

Regardless, Daizi left him be. She had enjoyed chatting with him, it was nice he was willing to talk to her. It felt normal. She was fetching her book for him, when a painful little thought wormed into her head that hit her like a truck: you'd have a child not much younger than him if you functioned better. It would be normal then. She endeavored to remind herself that first time they nearly became parents they weren't ready, but that didn't mean that unexpected loss didn't pain them then, and it didn't mean the old wound didn't still throb now and then, neatly placed amongst all the other, similar wounds.

But she pushed through the emotion, and stopped by the guest room again to give Alec the book, "I hope you enjoy it," she said, "and if it does bore you terribly, you can always look out the window at our garden. There's not much to see this time of year, except for the holly and the ivy, I adore ivy, but in the spring, we have six perfect rose bushes, and a fragile little apple tree. We're hoping in the coming year it'll finally bare fruit. And there are many more plants besides."
 
Alec took the book and looked it over curiously. It looked pretty dense to him, qnd he wasn't sure he understood what it was about, but he supposed he had a few hours to figure it out. "Thank you, I'll try to read it."

Setting the book beside him on the bed, he commented, "I read that Holly berries are extremely poisonous and that apple trees should take around five years before they can produce healthy fruit. Of course, that depends on the type of tree and if it's rootstock or not. Not to mention, I've only read a little bit about it, so I wouldn't know where to begin with a real tree."
 
The book title was I Love You Very Moth: The Cultural Reality of Mothman in Point Pleasant and Beyond, and a cursory flip through revealed various personal accounts of the Mothman legend, discussions on Point Pleasant becoming a tourist spot, and more complicated analyses, in addition to photographs--one of which was one of Dark and Daizi standing in front of the famous statue, with a caption describing how the book itself was representative of the importance of the Mothman myth.

"Well, if it takes five years, I suppose we shouldn't expect the tree to blossom yet, but I'm glad to know I haven't been destroying it. Our tree is only three years old," She sighed, genuinely relieved. It was information she perhaps knew, once, but had forgotten, "It's been nice talking to you."
 
"It's been nice talking to you too," Alec smiled. He frowned down at the book, puzzled, but willing to give it a shot. He wondered where Xander was and when he'd be back.
 
When Dark finished his workout routine down in the basement, he took a shower, and then went upstairs to finally do his morning skincare routine (because there is no point doing it when you're bound to just wash it all off again), and then got dressed for real. Daizi shared with him what Alec had said about his brother's ear, and how he said he didn't think he needed Dark's help rebandaging his ankle.

To be safe, when he brought the bandages, he still lingered to see it was done properly. It wasn't that he mistrusted the teen, but he didn't like to be uncertain. And he had been uncertain about much since yesterday, so knowing for sure the wrapping was correct was one thing he could keep to regarding the teens.

Then he went back downstairs where Daizi was lounging on the couch. She had changed into a dark green, loose, fit dress. He sat beside her, and first they chatted seriously, then less seriously, then stopped saying anything significant at all, and so they missed when it had begun to snow again. It wasn't until Dark happened to glance past Daizi's head that he saw the heavy flakes falling down.

"Shit," he said, "Xander is not back yet."
 
Xander was currently wishing he was back in the nice, warm house, no matter how suffocating, weird, and gothic it might be. At least it was out of the wind and snow. He had gone much farther than he had intended to in his search for a safe place to stay. The ones closer to this nicer area of town were already taken, and those that had taken them were not interested in sharing with "any snot-nosed kids." Sometimes the homeless could be trusted to look after each other, but many times, it was a cutthroat business with too many trying to make a living on too little.

He pulled his borrowed coat tighter around himself and ducked his head down into the wind as he hurried down the road toward the weird goth house. At least it was an easy house to find because even though his sense of direction was a good deal better than Alec's, the snow was coming down a lot thicker. If he didn't get back soon, he wouldn't be able to see three feet in front of his face! He hoped Alec didn't notice and wasn't worried about him. He tended to worry over the smallest of things.

Finally, he found his way to the front of the house and hesitated, considering knocking, before letting himself in. His brother was in there. Surely that afforded him entrance. He closed the door behind himself and tapped his shoes on the rug, shivering violently despite the coat. It was freezing out there! And his clothes were far too thin for this kind of weather. He remembered to take off his shoes and hang up his jacket, but not to touch the salt as he stepped farther into the room, shaking off his bare arms. Maybe he should break down and ask Alec if he could borrow a long-sleeved shirt.
 
When Xander returned, the dog, Enkidu, came bounding up with a look of dumb excitement on his face, but when he saw it was one of those teenagers and not one of the people he knew well, he stopped, backed up, and barked. The last time he had seen Xander, his people were with him, but now he came in all on his own, which went against his typical dog experiences.

In the other room, hearing her dog bark, Daizi said, "Well, he's back now," and Dark called out a command to quiet his dog, who obeyed and bounded back into the living room. Daizi slid out of her husband's lap and went into the hallway, and asked, before bothering to say hello, "Did you touch the salt?" She knew it would not be a habit for him yet, but she was incredibly firm on this rule, "And you can't lie to me. These eyes don't work, but this one," she pointed to her forehead, "is wide open. You don't know what might be out there, invisible and hungry. Not to mention our own dark energies."
 
Xander jerked back when the dog came bounding up and stood watching the dog suspiciously. He was ready to lash out and protect himself if necessary, but the dog quickly backed off at a word from its master. He'd just about relaxed when the weird spider-lady came gliding up. What the heck did she mean her forehead was wide open.

"I'd rather lick a horse's salt lick," He replied dryly. "Why do I have to touch it? Wouldn't that mean I have a chance of picking up whatever is already in it? And isn't it supposed to just pick stuff up like in the air or whatever?"
 
"Salt is a blocker, it cannot be passed through malevolence," She replied, firmly, "the negative energy and malicious spirits aren't stored in there, they're banished from it. They're cast back out into the world--and, sure, it just being there helps a little, but not all spirits and energies are of equal strength and fortitude. But there is power in intention, and strength, and in choosing to actively banish malevolence. So touch the salt. And if you don't believe in it, which is fine, then touch it anyway because I'm asking you to."

"Also," she added, gravely, "ghosts haunt houses. Poltergeists haunt people. It won't be drawn out of the air."
 
Xander rolled his eyes, safe in the knowledge that she couldn't see him. "According to a book I read by Susan Cooper who is a foremost expert on the matter, poltergeists haunt places, ghosts tend to haunt people," he argued. "How is a bowl of seasoning supposed to stop a poltergeist? They're practically material beings! Wouldn't silver be better for a purifying property?" He glared at her stubbornly even as he continued to shiver. He didn't do anything just because someone asked him to, not anymore.
 
"I've not encountered Susan Cooper, but her facts are twisted," Daizi shot back, crossing her arms, "if poltergeists haunted places, then when victims of such activity moved place, the activity would stop, which has never been the case. And the handle on our front door is silver plated, and our knocker is inlaid with it. But even if with every precaution, we were incapable of warding away so powerful an entity, at least we may ward off lesser ones, so at least we would have less to deal with."

She clenched her jaw, "I have very few rules in my house, but the one I cleave to, is to care for the energy of the household. Touch the salt, think whatever you think about it, but this is my home and it is not a joke to me."
 
"Woo-hoo, negative energy is evil and salt and silver is the answer," Xander said dryly. "If you hate negative energy so much, then you never should have let me step foot inside this house, obviously, and you never should have gotten married. All marriages turn toxic eventually. It's just a matter of time, so unless you're dousing yourself and the professor with salt daily, I don't see how you can avoid it. Or maybe it just makes you feel better because your marriage is already sour and you think blaming it on invisible boogymen and bad juju is going to fix it."

He glared at her definitely, not caring that he was threatening his place to stay. He'd had a bad day, he was cold and wet, his ear hurt, and he'd gotten smacked around three times already today. He was not a beaten puppy that would roll over and wag his tail at the first sign of an order! They were not his teachers, not his parents, and not his bosses. Pampered adults like them had no idea what real survival entailed, and part of that survival meant not showing any weakness. The salt was a stupid thing to pick a fight over, and he really didn't care about touching it and might have if he remembered, but she was telling him to do it. He wasn't taking orders. Not anymore.
 
Hearing this from the other room, Dark hurried into the hallway, knowing he needed to diffuse the situation quickly. He came up behind Daizi and lightly touched her waist, and she turned towards him, visibly angry and upset, and before she could speak he said, "Spider, darling, I was thinking, since it is going to be so cold, we should light a fire tonight. Would you mind terribly grabbing the scented pinecones from upstairs? For when we are ready?"

"Dark, did you hear--"

"Yes, I did," he replied, and kissed her hand before saying something to her in Arabic. She pushed back, slightly, before ultimately storming off upstairs.

Then Dark turned to him, and sighed deeply, "The one thing I asked of you was that you be nice to my wife," he said, his voice calm, "I said you could be as awful as you want to me, but be nice to her."
 
Xander snorted and rubbed his ear without thinking. "That was me being nice. It's her fault for thinking you brought home an easily trainable puppy." His fingers came away red with flecks of blood from his earlobe, but he didn't notice. "Seriously, your wife is bonkers, dude, so what did you expect to happen when you dragged home a pair of raccoons? A happily ever after story?"

He reached out with one hand, grabbed a massive pinch of salt, and tossed it over his head. "There. I touched the damn salt. Now I'll go ground myself like a good little pup."
 
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