Context
Another chapter from The Impossible Apothecary
Hey campers, welcome to yet another chapter of The Impossible Apothecary, our cozy fantasy web novel about a young witch named Fluidity as she makes a new life in the village of Tansy Vale. It’s comfy, funny and may go places you never expected a cozy little story to go by the end.
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Chapter 14
Context
“And that’s why it is important never to disturb an onyx fire lizard in the middle of a mating display.”
“That is, um, interesting,” Fern replied, her eyes locked on the road ahead as they slowly strolled toward the village. “The Southlands sound kind of scary, to be honest. I mean, I’ve heard some stories, but it sounds like a rough place to grow up.”
“It’s not all bad. It can be hard to keep your socks dry in the swamps, but the scenery is actually very nice if you take the time to look.”
Fern tugged at the sweater again, drawing Flu’s eye. She was still having a bit of difficulty reconciling Fern wearing that sweater. As if Fern had somehow read her mind, she spoke up.
“Are you sure it’s all right that I’m wearing this? I mean, I can see how it might be unsettling. I feel like I’m trespassing on something.”
Flu shook her head, bringing her mind back to the present.
“What? Oh… it’s fine. It’s not like you chose it or anything.”
“I know. I just… can we stop for a second? I need to tell you something.”
Flu looked up at her in confusion. Was this the part where it all fell apart? Fern had been the one person in the village she had felt a connection to, and the bottom dropped out of her stomach as she feared that was about to take a sharp turn.
“Sure,” she said, her voice coming out small and wary. “What is it?”
Fern fussed with a tattered cuff of the sweater as she gathered herself.
“So last night, in the library, I came across something. Something personal. I wasn’t trying to snoop or anything. I was just flipping through books and…” She paused for a moment. “I saw the journal with your letters to Nana. I didn’t read them, but I saw them. I put the book away as soon as I realized what they were, but I didn’t feel right not saying something.”
Flu’s face did a complicated little dance as she tried to process the information. This was not what she had expected Fern to drop.
“Oh,” was all she managed at first.
Moving to the side of the road, she found a large rock to sit on as she gathered her thoughts. Taking off her hat, she set it aside. The light felt warm on her skin, almost uncomfortable without the shade her hat normally provided.
“It’s okay. I told you that you could look through them.” She could feel her eyes stinging as tears welled up. She had thought she had this under control when she saw the sweater and had not broken down, but the emotions began to push their way to the surface.
Fern took a seat next to her and spoke gently. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Flu’s mind tumbled through the possible directions this conversation could take. “I-I don’t know.”
The two sat in silence as a gentle breeze wafted the scent of wildflowers and wheat fields in their direction.
“You don’t have to. I just thought that maybe you could use someone to talk to. You mention her a lot. And I thought you might just be homesick, but that’s not it, is it?”
Flu looked down at her hands in her lap. She balled one hand into a fist, trying to stop the shaking, but it was no use. She couldn’t find the words and just shook her head in reply, not looking up.
“How long has it been?” Fern’s voice was soft, as if she hoped not to disturb the peace of the morning with her question.
“About six months now. I knew it was coming. It wasn’t a surprise or anything. It was her time. Past her time, really. She held on for me, but in the end, she had to go.”
A heavy tear dropped from her eye, falling onto the pure white fabric of her skirt.
“She prepared me for everything as best as she could, but there is nothing that can really prepare you for the absence when someone has always been there.”
She felt the sob building in her chest and was afraid to take too deep a breath, fearing it would escape. The thoughts she had pushed to the back of her mind forced their way forward. She had spent so much effort trying to keep it all from rising to the surface that she feared she would fall apart right here.
She thought about the last six months. Nana’s passing, their final moments together, the fear and loneliness she had felt as she realized she was truly alone. She hadn’t even allowed herself to cry, afraid that once she started, she would never stop. She could feel herself wanting to shatter into a thousand pieces, but she couldn’t let that happen. She had nobody left. If she broke apart, there would be nobody to help her pick up the pieces again.
The world was a harsh and unforgiving place, and facing it alone left no room for weakness, so she pushed the feelings down, refusing to let herself break. But now, on this random rock on the side of the road, with Fern at her side, she could feel the cracks slowly spreading. The tears began to come faster, her vision turning to a blur of golden and blue light as the landscape lost its clarity.
She was so focused on trying to hold herself together that it took her a moment to register the warmth of a hand gently covering her balled fist. Slowly, she let herself loosen her fingers, and Fern’s hand gently clasped hers. Nothing could stop what was coming at this point. The dam had cracked, and she couldn’t plug the holes fast enough. A choking sob escaped her as her chest heaved, interrupting her breaths, and then it all came pouring out.
A flood of tears fell from her eyes, staining her chest as she cried. She hadn’t cried like this in a very long time. Flu tried to catch her breath, but her chest spasmed with sobs. She tried to speak, to say she was sorry for falling into such a mess and ruining their up-to-this-point pleasant morning.
Fern laced her fingers with hers, and Flu let go.
“I can’t… I just… she’s gone. She left me! She abandoned me, and there was nothing I could do! She left me alone!”
Flu barely registered that she was yelling, the words interrupted by heaving sobs. Her face was wet with tears, she couldn’t breathe through her nose anymore, and she collapsed against Fern’s shoulder, gripping her hand tightly.
Fern sat silently, letting Flu grip her hand as she sobbed into the sweater that was a piece of the very grief spilling out of her. Fern reached up with her free hand and gently stroked her friend’s hair.
“I’m here. You aren’t alone,” she said gently as the muffled sobs continued.
Flu didn’t know how long they sat like that. She just let herself cry, and for the first time since her life had shattered, it all came spilling out.
As the sobbing slowed, Flu lifted her face from Fern’s shoulder. Her face was wet, and she had soaked the shoulder of the black knit sweater. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a handkerchief with her free hand, the other still clasping Fern’s as if she was afraid the young woman might disappear if she let go.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her nose stuffed up and running at once. She tried to blow her nose into the handkerchief, but it didn’t seem to do any good. As her vision cleared, she looked down at her feet. Mushrooms had sprouted from the spots where some of her tears had landed in the soil. If Fern had noticed, she didn’t say anything. She still sat quietly holding Flu’s hand.
“I’m such a mess. I didn’t mean to put all of that on you. It just came out.”
Fern gave her a gentle smile and squeezed her hand. Flu couldn’t bear to look up at her.
“It’s just… she left me, and I’ve been alone this whole time.”
Fern’s voice remained gentle as she finally spoke.
“It’s okay. I know it can feel like being abandoned. I lost my dad to a fever a few years back. I thought I would never move on. But we find ways. She didn’t abandon you. Sometimes things happen, and there is nothing you can do.”
Flu shook her head. “No. It wasn’t like that. She… she chose to go.” Flu could feel the ache tighten in her chest as she said the words. A twinge of anger pulled at her from within, and she tried to let it go, but the ember remained. “She chose to leave.”
“I know it can feel that way, but…”
Her words cut off as Flu turned her head to look at her. Her eyes were wide with an expression Flu couldn’t quite read.
“Flu… your face.”
Flu let go of her hand and reached into her shoulder bag, pulling out a small mirror, she examined her face. The thick black rings around her eyes that Fern had previously mistaken for makeup had changed.
The black streaked down her cheeks like swirling, ethereal ink, ebony tears moving over the surface of her skin but not falling. She brought her hand up and lightly touched the streaks, but the contact didn’t affect them.
“Sorry. That happens when I feel strong emotions sometimes.” She sniffled again, wiping the actual tears that had wet her cheeks. “It’s fine.”
Tucking the mirror away, she blew her nose again.
Fern, concern still clearly visible on her face, left it alone. Hesitantly, she asked, “Flu, what did you mean when you said she chose to go?”
Flu took a deep breath. She knew this time would come, when she had to explain things to someone new. She just hadn’t expected it to be under these circumstances. Could she trust Fern? The mapmaker had shown her patience and compassion during their time together, but some things were still beyond what most people were prepared for. Could she really let herself be that vulnerable, especially in this moment? Finally, she decided this was probably the best time to do it and steeled herself.
She took another deep breath and asked, “What do you know about Aspects?”
Fern looked confused. It was clear she didn’t understand how the question related to the topic at hand, but she replied anyway.
“The same as everyone else, I suppose. They are kind of like spirits, but not. Most people think they are a result of conscious beings giving names to universal concepts, and the ambient magic gives them a sort of life. At least that’s what we learned in school. I’m sure priests would explain it better.”
Fern paused for a moment to gather her thoughts before continuing.
“The big, clear concepts like Love, War, Harvest, Justice, and so on gain a consciousness of their own and ascend. That’s where the gods come from. Nobody really knows why some become gods and others don’t. But when someone says the word love, even if it has nuance and everyone may see it a little differently, we all know the basic concept”
Flu gave her a small nod. “Right. And what about the smaller aspects?”
Flu could see Fern really putting on her academic hat now. “Smaller aspects, the way we understand them, have no real consciousness. They just sort of invisibly exist, nudging things like natural forces or interactions. They aren’t well defined enough to have a universal name that everyone can generally agree on, so they don’t really impact the world around them in big ways. They just sort of… are.”
She looked at their surroundings for a moment. “Like there could be an aspect of the warmth of a stone sitting in the spring sun, or the scent of wheat on the air before harvest.”
“Or the fluidity of the forest floor,” Flu added, her voice small, as if she both wanted Fern to hear and hoped she wouldn’t.
Fern stared blankly, clearly not knowing what to do with the statement.
“What are you saying?”
Flu shrank a little, worried she had made a horrible mistake in the midst of an emotional release. For better or worse, she had opened this door, and closing it was no longer an option. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself.
“That’s what I am. The fluidity of the forest floor. I am an Aspect.”
To demonstrate her point, Flu reached down and picked up a thick piece of broken branch. Fern, her expression still confused, watched as thin white lines, like those that filled the wood of the Apothecary, began to form. They spread from where Flu’s hand held the stick. As the threads grew, they began sprouting small blue mushrooms. After a moment, the stick slowly began to shed its bark, and then it crumbled to dust in Flu’s hand.
Fern watched in wonder, a bit of shock creeping over her face as she looked up to meet Flu’s eyes.
“So, are you… a god?” Fern whispered the word as if someone would hear, though there was nobody in the area.
Flu gave a small smile and shook her head.
“No. I’m just a minor aspect. The gods have much clearer roles. I’m a very small thing, really.”
“But I thought minor aspects didn’t have minds. Something about a lack of clarity and connection to the mass consciousness.”
Flu nodded again. “Normally, that’s true. I have no idea how long ago I came into being as an Aspect, but one day, I got a small bit of awareness.”
Flu dusted off her hands and put her hat back on to shield herself from the rising sun.
“For a while, I kept doing what aspects do like you said, nudging and encouraging the parts of nature that fell under my bounds. But the most interesting things I found were people. They had never really registered before, but they would come walking through the forest, interacting with the trees and my mushrooms, talking about things I had no concept of. They would talk about how they were seeking out an ancient witch. I didn’t know what that was at the time, but they would talk about her being mysterious and wise. So I sought her out.”
“Nana,” Fern said to herself.
Flu gave a small smile and nodded. “I figured I could use the help of this wise woman they were talking about. So, slowly, using my limited understanding of people, I manifested a body. This body.” Flu gestured at herself: her pale, bone-white skin, the black around her eyes. “Then I sought her out.”
To Flu’s surprise, Fern didn’t seem frightened by any of this. She just nodded along, urging the tale forward.
“Nana seemed more than a little surprised when a naked child appeared on her doorstep. That’s when she took me in. She fed me, raised me, taught me alchemy, and taught me how to be a person.”
Fern looked like she wanted to pass out, but she kept herself steady. “Okay, that’s a lot, and I have a lot of questions…”
“I would hope so,” Flu giggled lightly.
“But what about the consciousness thing? How did that even happen without a clearly defined role?”
“Neither of us knew why it happened. It shouldn’t have, but it did..”
Flu wiped at her nose again. The ache in her chest had faded a bit into the background as she had been explaining, but it twisted again as she feared Fern might not be able to accept all of this.
“Does this, you know, change everything? I understand if you don’t want to be friends after finding out I am some kind of… whatever I am.” She knew the word that wanted to come out. Monster. She wasn’t a human, or a badgerfolk, a ratkin or any other known sapient species. She was something else, something that shouldn’t exist.
“What?” Fern said, looking up to meet her eyes. “No, I don’t think so.”
Her voice was uncertain, and Flu felt the panic rising.
“I mean, it is a lot to take in. I don’t know how to feel exactly, but you are still you. Unless everything I knew about you was an act, and I don’t think it was.”
Hesitantly, Fern took her hand again. “I saw you with that goblin. You didn’t care if it was dangerous. You just saw a person who was hurt. I don’t know what you are, or how you came to be, but I know that compassion and care was very human, and that’s enough for now.”
Flu almost choked as she heard the word.
Human.
Fern’s words were comforting, but that word stood out. Had she become human, or was she just playing a role she had been taught? Nana had taught her all about human things and how to be a person, but was that what she really was deep down? Her rumination was interrupted as Fern continued.
“Now, if you had ridden into town and said, ‘Hi, my name is Fluidity and I am an aspect of rot and decay, would you like some tea in my monster house’ I think things might be different. But you are still Flu. This just adds context. A lot of context. I am not going to pretend to understand or say that it doesn’t frighten me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t see you as a person.”
Flu felt she might break down all over again, though this time, the feeling was supported by a glimmer of hope.
“Thank you, Fern,” she said quietly, giving the other woman’s hand a squeeze. “I understand that it isn’t an easy thing to wrap your head around, but I appreciate you staying and listening.”
Fern smiled in return. “This was a lot to confess, and I still have questions, and we can talk about it more if you want, like about why you feel Nana abandoned you if you like. We don’t have to go into town right now. If you need to, we can go back to your cottage and talk.”
Flu shook her head without hesitation.
“No, we need to talk to Eloise. I just need to pull myself together, and then we can go. You can ask anything you want, but I do want to ask a favor. Can we keep this between us for now? I don’t know that everyone will be so accepting.”
Flu released her hand and stood up, tucking her handkerchief back into the pocket of her apron. She took a deep breath and focused on composing herself. She could feel the black streaks on her face retract into their usual pattern as she drew in her power.
“Of course,” Fern said, following suit and dusting off her trousers. “It’s not my secret to tell anyway. Can I make one suggestion, though?”
Flu looked at her curiously. Anything, she thought, as Fern had already given her so much just by being present, despite any doubts and fears she might have.
“What’s that?”
“The dress. It already didn’t seem right on you. I can see what you were going for, but if you want people to accept you, I don’t think that’s the way. Especially knowing what I know now. I don’t like seeing you try to erase yourself like that.”
Flu looked down and could feel her face flush again.
“You don’t like it?” Flu looked down at the pure white material, running her hands over it.
Fern shook her head. “It’s not that. It just isn’t you. If you want acceptance, do you think trying to get people to accept something that isn’t really you is the way? Maybe let people get to know you before you decide it is wrong. It’s your choice, but I think you should give it a try.”
Flu felt embarrassed when it was said out loud. She had tried so hard to make herself likable, but Fern was right. She thought back to the café and what Roger had said just before the goblin incident disrupted everything.
“It don’t fit,” she thought.
Maybe they were right. Maybe this wasn’t the way.
Running her hands down her dress, the white seemed to flow downward, replaced by the midnight black of its true color.
She picked up her hat, and as she placed it on her head, it followed suit, making itself match her usual aesthetic. It felt like a weight lifted. Fern gave her a gentle smile, and Flu felt that flutter in her chest again.
She really needed to get around to testing Fern’s magical aptitude.