Death

"Well.. how to put this.. I think death is beautiful. I'm not talking about myself, no," he continued, smiling at Clara's giggles, "I mean the process itself. And even the result."

*

"Hey, you know that Beatles' song, right? Eleanor Rigby?"

Clara nodded.

Death hummed a couple of lines anyway: 

"All the lonely people.. Where do they all come from?

All the lonely people.. Where do they all belong?

That concept of belonging, it fits, you see."

"But isn't belonging just an idea?"

"No, not really, that's either some enlightened detachedness or angsty teenage talk. No offense." he grinned. "Humans are social animals, the concept is natural. What I meant was, I have this idea of everybody belonging together in life. And death. It doesn't occur to everybody to think at such a scale, and to actually pull it off in any respectable way is more of a challenge than what you'd expect. And yet, it's very simplistic."

Clara tilted her head. "I guess.. Yeah, I can see that. What I can't see is people warming to that idea."

"Not unlikely as you might think. Dear old planet Earth is a horrible place, sure, but it's a great one, too."

"You keep talking in ultimatums."

"Mm, a habit of mine. I'm sure you understand why."

*

Clara stared at the boy, his utterly familiar face. "I.. know you."

"Hello, Clara. Yes, you certainly do."

*

"It's mostly pointless to look sullen and hope that someone's going to take pity and engage you in a conversation."

*

"A sophisticated mind is less likely to be found among the innocent." 

Energy-verse

Persephone picked up one of the blades of grass and watched the energy trickle out. She cupped her hand under it, so it pooled in her palm. Cautiously, she started playing around with it. The more she did so, the more a bond seemed to form between her and the green light, to [Clara] it looked almost like a bond of trust. As the corners of Persephone's mouth started gradually turning upwards into their usual position, [Clara] too found herself cheered by this little spectacle, even letting out a giggle. The little sphere of life-force was shining very brightly by now, in symbiosis with the hands turning and weaving it.
After a while, Persephone nuzzled the sphere lightly, and passed it back into the shimmering field.

*

"In this parallel, well, alternate place, my name happens to be Persephone." Harmony was explaining as best she could.

*

"At times, you can carry the energy out of here. But you have to be careful, oh-so-careful, and, more importantly - care. If you're an unworthy bearer, it will be obvious. You won't be able to handle the energy and it might just escape and wreak havoc on a cat or something. Which would be bad.
Anyhow, you can keep it in anything that fits its element. There are thirteen of them, I'll get to that in a bit. If you pool one kind of energy into a different element, it gets weakened, or, if the element is sinister enough, cancelled out altogether."

The Ms.

Clara felt a tap on her shoulder, looked up, and was faced with the most stunningly beautiful woman she had ever seen. She had hair the colour of dark chocolate, a nose that seemed to be sniffing dangerously close to perfection, and green eyes, seemingly flecked with gold.
"Hello, Clara," she said, "my name is Blossom Lenvere. Harmony said I'd find you here."

*

"And Harmony, dear, don't forget to mind the garden, make sure it doesn't get into too much trouble."

"Yes'm." Harmony gazed up at Ms. Lenvere adoringly. 

Clara continued to look at the floor. Ugly, concrete. 

Shaking her distracting hair, Ms. continued: "I'm sure the vines will want a bit of attention.."

And even from here, Clara could clearly see the spiderwebs that covered the chandelier. "..and so will the butterflies.." not that it actually revolted her, they gave it a very dream-like quality, but the light which flooded the room seemed distinctly nauseating. ".. and my dear old Baobab seems to have gotten in quite a temper recently (don't give me that look, switching emotions is an extremely lengthy process for trees, dear), but, if you are lucky, she will be asleep for most of the time." Oh, no. Exactly. Nausea. Clara held her breath. "That's really all I can think of, I'm sure you two will be just fine. If there is anything, however, you can reach me by phone - I left the number inside the topmost left drawer in the black cupboard." That didn't help. She closed her eyes instead. Better. "Well, then. Be good, Harmonica. Clara, it was a pleasure meeting you. Oh, here, sweetie, take this." Clara felt Ms. Lenvere's fingers press something into her hand. Keeping her eyes closed, she muttered a thank you(, and did a clumsy half-curtsy?). 

"Farewell, miss! We'll be waiting!" Harmony burst out, as if she'd been impatient for Ms. to finish talking, which, come to think of it, she probably had.
"Yes. Yes, goodbye. I must go." Ms. Lenvere gave both girls a brief glance and hurried out the door, into the pale day. The heavy door closed, leaving them standing in the quiet, vast hall. 

"Flowerpot?" Harmony gave Clara a nudge.

"Don't call me that," she muttered.

"Open your eyes."

Clara did, and immediately felt like her stomach was trying to waltz, so she closed them again.

"No, no, keep them open."

"I'd rather not." Clara shook her head lightly.

"Clara, I mean it. Look." Harmony pried open her hand, and Clara noticed only now that it had been clenched. She looked down. Resting in her palm was a vividly blue stone, set in a round, intricate silver locket on a silver chain. The nausea dissipated instantly. 

"I knew it." Harmony gave one of her trademark grins.

"She.. Ms. Lenvere.. She couldn't possibly have-"

"Yep, she did. This is yours. Here." Harmony took the necklace and fastened it around Clara's neck. "They're very good to have in a place like this."

*

Ms. Lenvere looked on as the youth swiftly opened the new packet of tobacco, found papers and filters, and expertly rolled two cigarettes. He presented one with a smile and a bow, lit the other and proceeded on his way, leaving Ms. Lenvere in the alley, holding "one of those sticks they burn in their mouths". She looked at it for a moment, contemplating, hesitant - then fished a dainty little silver lighter from her pocket and lit it. Inhaling, she closed her eyes, and blew the smoke out slowly. Then she let out a little cough and said "I don't know how you humans can do this stuff." She took another drag, made a face, then put the cigarette out whilst exhaling and walked off, abandoning it on the side of a trashcan for some hobo to find.

coming together

Suddenly, instead of music, there was a crackling in her earphones. Clara stopped to fumble around and see what had gone wrong. Before she could do much, the crackling was replaced by a voice. "Hello, Clara," it said. Terribly unoriginal.

*switching story lines?*

"I have a message for you." Clara waited, anticipating a threat or something else of the sinister kind, wondering how the hell this got on to her player. But, there was nothing. Just about two minutes of silence, and then her player [Fred?] switched to the next song. Clara gave it a sarcastic look, realized she was acting like Harmony would, then wore a grin which gradually shifted into a mystified expression.

*

Clara sat idly, staring into her teacup, then suddenly got up, hesitated, and then moved Harmony out of the way and sat down by her computer, got to her music, and started looking for something.
"What are you doing?" Harmony asked, and received no reply.
"Hey. Hey. Flowerpot."
Clara continued to ignore her, but stopped scrolling. [Fred] contained three songs with the title "unknown". Slowly, Clara moved her mouse over the first.
Cli-click.
"There's a little church-yard, just along the way. Used to be Lambeth's finest array, of tom-"
Cli-click.
"Clara, really." Harmony was getting impatient."
Soft piano music floated through the speakers, and Clara remained silent. She held her breath, and clicked on the third song.
A moment of silence. Then - "Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage-"
Clara breathed out, and turned it off. She turned to look at Harmony, who had been waiting for a while with her face portraying dozens of questions. Clara laughed lightly, then said "Fine. I'll tell you. Something kind of weird happened last week.."

*

Clara wondered what to do. She stared at the walls for a bit, then the ceiling, then she remembered that she had [Fred] with her, which cheered her up at once. she dug around in her bag until she found him. Clara wondered what she'd like to listen to, couldn't think of anything, so she switched to the list of Artists and scrolled down quickly, hoping something would jump out at her. Something did, but subtly - just enough to make her subconscious make a connection. It then tried nagging her about it, albeit unsuccessfully. She might have stopped for half a second, she might not have. In the end she settled for 'Manic Street Preachers'. 

*

Clara eyed [Fred], the odd name of the song, and cautiously clicked play. 

"Clara, really," said Harmony's voice, and she spun, but no one was there. No Harmony. 

then she nearly smacked herself in the face as she realized that the song had come from [Fred]. That was the conversation she'd had with Harmony the day before. It had somehow been recorded.. It was almost as if whoever had done this was mockingly screwing with her attempts of finding out what it all was. Actually, no, this person was definitely mocking her. 

"And it can't be Thomas or something?"

"Nah, he's smart, and he can be sneaky, but not nearly sneaky enough fo-" Click. 

And again, there were a couple minutes of silence, then [Fred] switched to a random song.

~Thrown Out

... Cer had no idea where he was. The little daemon had suffered a very nasty shock, but that wasn't the most disorienting issue. Everything was.. well, fresh? Cold. There were no fumes. And everything was alive, alive in the way that makes blood course through your veins, that makes you breathe.. air..

Cer understood. He was no longer in the underworld. He was no longer in Hworlodoth. He was among humans.
They had thrown him out.

***

He is a demon-like thing, with a perpetual bewildered expression and unfathomable motives for doing.. whatever he does. I don't know. Another thing that stays with him is a peculiar shadow, more of a watery reflection of his soul. So. Tell me what you think.

And, yes, that puddle-shadow-thingy is the reflection of his soul. Don't be judgemental, now, it's the only one he's got.

The triangle his MOUTH, not his NOSE!! His nose is hidden.

***

"I've developed a kind of story for him, he was a happy little demon living in hell, but he screwed up in one way or another, and was banished. The experience was quite horrible, and changed him in the depths of his soul, which altered appearance as well. Now he roams the earth, doing good or bad, I'm not sure. The poor, twisted thing. 
He has powers, he doesn't want to tell me what they are, yet.. 
I know his eyes change when he uses them. 

Belated, but found

It was the 11th when the air turned.
Clara breathed it in. Fresh, not sharp, but with a certain clearness to it. The light had the quality of a perfectionist. Autumn was approaching.

*

I could put in a couple of fancy terms in latin. Yeah, that could work.

*

Harmony and Clara looked at each other, grinned, and simultaneously said "You're amazing." 

"Jinx!!" Harmony cried gleefully. 

*

From that despiseable radio there came a song, one of Harmony's favourites, in fact. [Madness - Our House] In Slovenian. AND incorporated into a commercial. Our girl sat there, chewing rapidly and giving the radio a disbelieving and rather bewildered stare. She stopped doing both of these things for a moment, her mind going through all the possible ways to most effectively destroy that measly little piece of machinery, then she swallowed and resolutely gave the radio the most disheartening glare she could muster. The radio, unperturbed, carried on with the horrid commercial quite cheerfully.

*

Harmony leaned in, and whispered, trying to sound sinister: "Let me tell you.. about the Paper Man."

*

"..and so this is why we we have to run out into the field, and tell the cows exactly, I cannot stress this enough, exactly, what that guy said about mixing cocktails, and give them each an apple and pat them on the head, but we must be sure to remove any bugs (from the cows, not the apples), because bugs would eavesdrop and jeopardise the whole thing. In conclusion, the cows will be so overcome by our kindness that they will tell us everything we need to know about grass. There." 

Harmony finished triumphantly, then, after a moment's thought, added - "And we absolutely must be sure that there are no ugly houses in sight, they keep me from concentrating." 

Dante was doing his best to make sense out of this, and that was his mistake. 

"Ok.. But really, how does that fit in with-"

Harmony, who had realised this, interrupted: "Oh, don't worry about the logic, that's completely unnecessary."

"But-"

"In fact, it can be rather annoying at times, getting in the way of my ingenious plans. Probably because it's so misunderstood.. "

Dante sighed, and stopped trying to make sense. 

Much better, Harmony thought.

"Alright, so what do we have to do now?"

"We don't have to do anything. Except prepare. Blankets, apples, some other snacks, your book, flashlights." 

"Flashlights?"

"We're going at night, obviously."

"What? Why?"

"Because I said so. Oh, and orange juice. Can't forget the orange juice."

*

Breathless as he was, Dante ran up to Clara, breathless, looked at her with absolute panic in his eyes and said, breathlessly: "What are you doing this Saturday?"