Blips - Bittersweet Reunion
Hey all! I'm back into writing Zerrif's Backstory (yet again, sigh), and it's also a kind of post to show that I'm not dead.
I know I still have Navarre to work on, and the next chapter is almost finished-- I'm just trying not to leave it at a really awkward part in the story. I'm one of those people that get lots of ideas and have trouble putting them down before they become less of an idea and more of a passing thought, so I'm very particular about how things come out.
This is set much later in Zerrif's story, and is a pretty defining moment in his development. I'll let the rest speak for itself.
He never thought he'd see it again.
Zerrif stared out over the Astaire Farms--or what he remembered were the Astaire Farms; the only thing was that they were nothing like he'd remembered. The once well-tended fields and cared for crops were now overgrown, littered with weeds, and altogether unruly. Most of them barely looked edible at this point--like they'd grown for many seasons, had been left to die, and grown over themselves. They looked rotten, rotting, or altogether inedible. The separating borderlines that divided the fields were now indiscernible--with a family of 14 children each having their own section to tend to, it was easy to tell who took care of what; now it was all the same, sullen, forsaken land.
It didn't make sense. The entire farm looked like it was devoid of life. Where called once grazed was now dead, brown grass. Where ducks and birds once mulled by the pond was now a muddy bog, complete with clouds of flies. Zerrif realized that he'd been holding his breath out of shock, letting it out slowly as he tried to calm himself down. The place even smelled wrong. It didn't smell like a ripe, fresh field. What was going on here?
A slow, almost laborious walk took him the few yards of the driveway up to the house--if it could be called that anymore. The paint was peeling, the wood was rotting, and parts of it looked about ready to fall off. It broke his heart to see the farm in such a shape. Around back, where the toolshed and barn were didn't make him feel any better. If anything, they were in worse shape than the house--they looked like they had been picked through and looted, great messes everywhere, but with nothing of real import taken. Boards had been stripped or blown off the sides and roofs, and the whole thing looked like it hadn't been taken care of in years.
It was the tour around the house that made his breath catch, made his fur stand on end, and made him feel suddenly empty. Out around the corner of the barn, he saw two, dull, grey stones. Except they were definitely not regular stones based on their shape--from what little he could make out, he already knew.
"... How..." He muttered, as he headed around the barn, dropping to his knees. Tombstones, side by side and hastily placed. What struck the most poignant chord were the names and obituaries on each. "Marcus Aurelius Astaire, father of 14, husband to Lafayette. Farmer, Leatherworker, Dad." "Lafayette Kingston Astaire, wife of Marcus, mother of 14. Farmer, Cook, Mom."
"Who's there?" Called a shaky, female voice behind him. Zerrif whirled around, expecting the vandals to still be here. In a smooth motion, he had his laser katars unsheathed, lightly vibrating as they burst to life. Instead of facing vagrants, however, hey found himself barely having the strength to stand when his eyes fell on the carrier. "... This be prah'vit prop'r't, y'hear me? Go on, get outta here!"
"... Stel?" Zerrif said. That made the female ferret before him suddenly freeze. "Stel? It's me, Zerr." He almost didn't sound convinced himself. Stella had been a pillar of strength--the eldest daughter, the most headstrong, and the one with the soundest head on her shoulders. This ferret couldn't be her--not with the way her eyes didn't focus, or how she shook while she stood, or how she had a slight twitch to her demeanour. No, Stella was far more put together than this.
"... Zerr? 'Zat you, really, truly?" She asked back. Her eyes welled with tears, but when Zerrif ambled towards her, she continued to look around frantically. "Zerr, you ain't 'nother voice, right? Right? Yer real, an' yer here, an--"
That's when he noticed. Stella had gone blind. With how she reached out into what was the unknown, or how she continued to look around, she couldn't even tell he was right in front of her. Slowly, he took her hands in his, and nodded, even though she couldn't see it. "I came home, Stel."
The slight touch made her break down, and cry. She fell to her knees, causing Zerrif to slowly kneel with her, holding her close. "Oh Gods, Zerrif! Ah thought ye'd 'ave been... 'ave been..." She said, choking through her sobs. He was at a loss--he'd never seen his sister cry. She didn't even shed tears when Damian broke her hoe, and toppled her baskets of corn. She never cried when they had played numerous pranks on her--seemingly always happy and rolling with all the punches.
"What happened here, Stel?" He asked, once she calmed down a little. They seemed to stay on the ground forever, Zerrif feeling his knees get damp and muddy. Once he'd asked her that question, though, it seemed to send her back into a big of a mental hideaway, before shaking her head.
"... Y'saw Mama an' Papa's tombstones, ah reckon." She whispered. There was no reply. "Come. Come. This ain't no time o' place to be discussin' these things. Help me get inside, and ah'll get you something ta' eat." Zerrif looked around, unsure if he should stay, but Stel's insistent tugging had him walking inside. At least that part of her seemed to have some strength to it.
The inside of the house didn't fare all that much better than the outer layer. While relatively neat (which Zerrif assumed was so that Stella didn't trip over anything), there were still layers of dust on most of the furniture. Stella led the way in, despite all protest from her younger brother, leading the way to the kitchen by pure memory. She even turned on the oven, and poured tea into a cup without spilling it.
"Stel..." Zerrif started, as his sister sat down in front of him. Even if she couldn't see him, she stared in his general direction and sighed, her face turning down into a miserable frown. Haggard would have been a polite way to describe her. "Mom and Dad..."
"That day... when y'left... no. When y'were taken away--I swear non'uv'us wanted ta give ya away, Zerrif! Non'uv'us. Especially Damian. But... Mama and Papa they... they just wanted ta make sure y'were taken care'uv, yanno. 'Ven if we said we was all gonna take your share of the workload and..."
"Stel..." Zerrif tried to say in his most soothing voice, taking her hands and rubbing her knuckles. Her hands were shaking slightly, and he started to find his own shaking with hers "I never blamed any of you..."
"They took ya'way. Way inta the city, they did. An' it only started there. Ev'ry month they'd come back, demandin mo' and mo' money. Was robbery, I tell ya. Mama and Papa could tell. But there was that threat... that if they din't pay up, then you'd... you'd... oh god I wish they could know yer alright..."
She broke into sobs again; Zerrif moved his seat over beside her, to hold her close. She basically collapsed on him, both paws on his chest as she cried into his shirt.
"'Bout a year after you were taken ta the city... it just got too much. Mama and Papa wouldn't have any money left for even just our own food if they paid up. Papa had had enough--but it was like that's what they was waitin' for. They came at him, dead o' night, came inta the house. Papa told Mama to get us out the back an' run, he wasn't gonna take it from them no mo'. Papa always was a strongheaded fool sometimes..." her voice had a reminiscent tone; melancholy mixed with a bit of joy at still being able to remember. Zerrif found himself nodding--despite not having been home in so long, he knew the truth to it.
"Mama and us, all ov' us, 'cept you ah guess... we made our way out the back. Was s'posed to go an' ron'day'vooz at the Sand'uh'sins. But they was waitin' fo' us, they was. Had our entiyah fahm surrounded. Men everyway-ah. Mama told us ta take the path through the forest while she baited them the o'va way. So we went. Damian an' I took the kids and went. But they was they-ah too. And even though we knowed that forest like the back ov our palms, they caught us. Picked us off, one bah one. Stole us from tha group, dragged us off inta tha dawk'ness. It even'chally came down tah me, Damian, an the twins. And yanno how they are. They's the youngest."
Zerrif's face frowned as the story continued to go on and on. He grit his teeth--while Stella had no idea, he had a rather sure one about who had done this. He had to consciously _not_squeeze down on her, holding himself back from growling.
"Damian says ta git the twins over on past tha boun'joree, while he distracted'um. I saws it, Zerr. He jumped inta the bush ta take'em on... and whoosh there he went, gathered off inta tha dawk'ness. We, me an' the twins, we was 'bout to get through tha forest when they was swept out from under me. I din't know what to do! I was so scared ah..."
She stopped herself from sobbing, enough to finish.
"Ah turned aroun' ta face whatever it was, and all I saw's this gross, black stuff. Flew at mah face, and took mah sight. Burned like hell, it did. But it made me fly out inta the clearin', and fo' some reason it din't wanna follow. The Sand'uh'sins came an' got me after that... helped me get back on mah feet. We came back... and Mama and Papa were both dead. Dead. Face first in the groun'. They helped me bury'em... offered me ah place ta stay but... ah dunno. ah din't wanna leave this place. Leave it with nobody here. So ah stayed."
The oven timer went off, but much to Stella's persistence, Zerrif made her sit down and stay put while he pulled the chicken out of the oven, and set it atop to cool.
"... Zerr... none'uv us thought you'd 'av been dead. We all knew. Knew you was thrivin."
"Stel..."
She found his hands and took them in hers, staring right at him.
"Y'ain't stayin. Ah know. Ah can tell. You been gone... gosh, how long's it been now?"
"... Seven years."
Her hands went up to his face, and poked around--he wanted to cry, but a finger on his lips hushed him.
"My my... yer such a handsome man now... I only wish I cudda seen'it fo' real."
That made him start to break down.
"Zerr, do me one favour. Just one."
He sobbed out a response.
"Find em. Erry last one'uv em. Bring 'em home. Alls I want is tah be one happy family again."
He pressed his forehead to hers, whimpering.
"I promise."
"Bring 'em home, Zerr."
"Find what you needed in there?"
Zerrif barely heard the words from the tall, lanky wolf that sat inside a black van, just at the edge of the Astaire Farm gate. He looked back over the grounds with a sigh.
"Yeah." Silence. Only the low, almost-silent thrum of the car filled the air as he stared out at the house.
"... Alright then." Was all the wolf said, adjusting his long duster before shifting the van into gear, and starting off. Zerrif stared out the window, watching the dismal display of the farms pass by. He could barely make out Stella through the window, rocking in his mom's old rocking chair.
He hated when he made promises he knew he could never keep.