Summer rain was the best kind of rain. Humidity curled in his mane and Pan danced as he splashed in puddles, mud streaking up his legs as a boyish smile tugged at his lips. Water ran down his lithe frame, but it does not bring a chill. Instead, it is a welcome respite from the heat, and he shivers more from excitement than cold as he races along the seashore. There was much to see here – and Pan was always the first in line for festivals and celebrations. It wasn’t the first such event that Denocte had hosted, and Pan had always found a certain pleasure to visiting the night court. They always had the best stories, the most lively parties.
Case and point, even though it rained, the people were out en masse. They combed the beach with him, picking up bits of seashells and debris which the sea had washed ashore. Even Oliver was getting into the spirit, collecting as many baubles as his tiny furry hands could carry, before racing over to dump them into Pan’s satchel and resuming the hunt once more. Slowly, the clouds began to part and sunlight washed over the world, drying his coat and bringing heat back into the day once more. He stood for a moment, blinking up at the sky and letting the warmth wash over him like a hug, light flickering from his scales and throwing prismatic patterns onto the sand.
All around him, there were children running and playing. Some were familiar, others not… but there was one face he hadn’t seen yet. The girl. He didn’t know her name, but the girl with the moon on her shoulder and the lemur on her back. Pan had seen her before, whispering with her friends and painting in the shadows, murmuring to someone (though he couldn’t tell who, and certainly wouldn’t have guessed that the ‘who’ was actually a ghost). She needed to see the festival, he decided, and turning reluctantly from the party, he made his way to find her.
She lived in Terrestella, in a little cottage by the sea. Don’t ask him how he knew, for Pan would awkwardly tell you it was because he’d followed her one day. Not in a creepy way, mind you… he simply wanted to know more about the girl, curiosity getting the best of him. Her home is not unlike the place where he’d just come from, with sea brine on the air and bright sunlight filling the blue sky. But unlike the shore, Terrestella was fringed with impressive sea cliffs. You couldn’t walk into the ocean, but you could stare out at the sea for hours, a past time he’d taken part in several times. You couldn’t beat the view here, and as a vagabond, Pan was known to wander. He’d spent his fair share of time here, welcomed by his best friend Florentine, when she had been queen. He’d been to the hospital here too, delivering herbs and learning from the swamp healers, many of whom had moved on to different places and new adventures.
Such was the curse of an immortal child – for though he did not grow older, the world around him continued to change. Florentine was grown now, with children of her own… just as her mother Karou had been before that. His friends from the past were gone, replaced by new faces and stories… but it didn’t worry him much. For Pan was too jovial to be held down by sadness for long, even if nostalgia kept him awake from time to time. He’d led a good life, a full life… and it was about to get fuller, he decided, searching for the girl who would be his next-new-friend.
He approached her home, noting the way the setting sun cast a glow against its windows. The sky turned darker now, bringing night time and stardust in its wake. And as he stood below the window, Pan mustered his courage, picking up a few small pebbles which lay below it, and pinging them off of the glass with a quiet sound that beckoned her to greet him.
Her death hit in waves. Not a flood, but water lapping steadily at her ankles. You could drown in two inches of water. Maybe grief was the same.
She awakes with the sun.
She had dreamt of the moon and the stars.
There is a piece of her that delighted in the free fall between sleep and wakefulness. She had told her father last night, that she did not want him to visit her dreams anymore, that any nightmares she was having, she needed to learn to handle on her own. She told him she was growing up. Her mother had leaned against her father in that moment in the way that she always did, a silent comfort for him as his daughter tried desperately not to hurt him, but wonders if she did all the same.
The three of them, her family, they explore the day, her mother tells her a story about Legado the great, but she was not paying attention. She was watching as a bumble bee floated close to a flower before deciding to land, she was wondering what made him choose that one. Her father talks about constellations that would appear tonight, and Elli only nods her head, watching as blades of grass bend against the wind and pop up and down as the rain starts to fall.
They go inside, her father does tricks, her waters the flowers in her father’s house, teases him how he managed to raise a daughter, but was unable to keep alive the succulent she had brought him from Soletrra. Elli paints in a corner, raindrops falling on ocean waves. She paints a white raven that flies over it. And suddenly it all feels too real, the feathers too clear, its eyes too piercing, the color too bright against the gloomy backdrop. “I am going to my room,” she says and leaves. The retirement is nothing strange, for Elli, they knew, was a strange child.
She doesn't know how long has passed when:
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Elliana suddenly straightens up. Her parents had gone together to watch the sunset. Who could be tapping at the window? She shifts her weight and takes steady steps to the taping. It is not yet dark, and when she looks outside it, she can see that he is no ghost—at least she thinks.
She opens it.
She smiles.
“You’re the boy I’ve seen at my window,” she says to him, clear and sweet. Her eyes are dancing, sunlight against blue skies. Elli leans against the side of the window, admiring him, Jack jumps up to join him, staring down at the boy, for once with a look of warmth in his eyes, as if he knew the boy. “Glad I’ve finally gotten to meet you.” She blinks a few times, tosses a pebble back at him. “I’m Elli.”
If Pan had known the way the girl longed to grow up, he would have wept for her – for nothing in this world was as sad as growing up.
Pan had lived a long time – far longer than most would realize when looking at him. He was a lifetime older than her, a lifetime older than her parents even… and yet the boy was still that, a boy. Time had moved on, his friends had grown older, leaving him one by one. But then, he had found their children… their children’s children. And he had always stayed young, lost to the innocence of childhood, refusing to accept the reality of growing older. He simply couldn’t bear to see his imagination and his play ripped away from him.
But Pan doesn’t know the words which Elli had spoken to her father, or the way he had smiled through the reality that she would grow in her own and leave the peace of their family, moving onward with her own life. He only knows the now, the way she throws open the shutters and smiles as brightly as the sun with her excited exclamation. You’re the boy I’ve seen at my window. He nods and grins a boyish grin, even as a playful otter leaps from his satchel to gather up the pebble she threw back to him, with an indignant squeak.
“Come on then, Elli… don’t stay inside… there’s a party tonight, and you should come with me.” There was no question in his voice, only a quiet insistence that she should follow, his own eyes glittering with joy and mischief as he leans a fallen log against her window to help her down. “You coming?” His playful glance dares her to follow as he dances a few playful steps away from the girl, toward the woods and what lie beyond, deep in the heart of Denocte. “C’mon… we don’t want to miss the fireworks.”
He doesn’t wait for her answer, but knows the moment she runs beside him, her steps graceful as they match his. Together, they race toward the Night Court, just in time to see the first burst of color against the sky, sparkling with hues of gold and green glitter before it dissipates into the night’s darkness.
“Dance with me,” he beckons her, his steps sprightly as they race toward the fire, joining into the fray while the music played louder and livelier with every breathless turn. Sweat colors his white coat darker, shining against his scales as he blows his mane from his eyes so he can see her better. “I wondered when you’d come out to play… did you see me there often? I didn’t want to interrupt… after all, you’re not lost like me… but even those who are found can use a friend, right?”
He grins, looking every bit the lost boy, as he draws her from the crowd to somewhere a bit quieter, digging into his bag to draw forth a slipper-pink shell on a thin cord of leather. “Oliver and I made this for you… we were hoping that we’d see you here today.” The otter chitters at the girl, climbing up Pan’s mane to settle between his ears with a playful little roll. “And I’m Pan, by the way… it’s nice to finally meet you!”
