Inheritance wrote:(Note- Paragon has not actually been named at this point in time!)
Now, he wasn't shocked by the delivery. Grandfather had been old, after all (older, Zephyr always thought, than he claimed to be), old and sickly in a way the doctors had never been able to pin, the healers had never been quite able to soothe. His entire life, Zephyr had always half expected it, but it simply encouraged his efforts to spend time with the old man, who'd always been eager to hear what plant Zephyr had been working on reviving, or what the crows were up to, all sorts of things that felt like childish babble when shared with anyone else, but became perfectly reasonable and important in their letters or talks. So admittedly- he expected there would be something, if and when his passing came, but little more than perhaps a couple of sentimental heirlooms.
That is all to say: Zephyr was neither surprised nor disappointed the day he received a parcel from his grandfather, and a letter from the executor of his estate.The letter laid out on the kitchen counter, still mostly legible in the spaces not yet stained by tea rings. The package sat beside it, still taped up as securely as it had been when it arrived a week ago. Grandfather's passing wasn't a shock, no, and he didn't mind reading the letter. But the package... opening that would just make it- final? Yes, Zephyr thought, running a hand through his wild hair. It would make it all the more final, opening that up and finding... oh, whatever was in there, it would surely be what made the whole thing feel
real. Grandfather had always been a collector of intriguing things, and Zephyr had always wanted to investigate the intriguing things, it seemed like that was the one thing he could ever do to upset the man- so he'd learned, very early on, to look and
only look. To open it up, to see one of those things in
his house, feel its weight in his hands... He shook his head, even trying to imagine it- already he felt that familiar tightness in his throat, a sting welling in his eyes.
And yet...
What would waiting accomplish?
He knew the impulse would fade as quickly as it came, so he snatched up the box, and by the time that other part of his mind screamed at him to stop, to leave it so that maybe he could send it back, undo it... well. The tape was already off, and Zephyr could see something poking out of the paper packing, a shiny dark corner-
"Of course you'd send this," he said, the words near lost to a shaky laugh. He carefully removed the smaller box, carrying it over to the table and setting it down. Of
course it would be this- nothing else in the world had fascinated him as a child more than this box, always carefully centered on the fireplace mantle.
It wasn't overly large- perhaps not quite six inches tall, not quite nine long, solid wood save for the slightly tarnished golden hinges, key, and clasp. No lock- but he'd never been able to reach it as a child, and by the time he could, he'd known better than to try. He could nearly see his reflection in the dark, lacquered wood, and even now, he did as he had done so many times before: suppressed the urge to trace his fingers over the interlocked, delicate patterns of flowers and swirling petals and leaves, instead following them with his eyes... until impulse struck again, long enough for him to undo the clasp and lift the lid.
The song- he'd never seen the box open, but that
tune- that rhythm had always been somewhere in the back of his mind, always bringing a measure of peace whenever he felt overwhelmed, always bringing him back to focus, he'd never quite been able to figure out where he had heard it. But it had always been at Grandfather's house, hadn't it? When he was on the verge of falling asleep, he'd hear it sometimes...
Another memory, long lost to the years, but yes- he'd hear this tune, and sometimes there was a scent-
Zephyr looked down, studying the box's contents. There was a small mirror set into the lid, surrounded by a bed of forget-me-nots carved so perfect they looked to be true blooms, even with their faded paint. The only visible sign of the mechanism was a slowly rotating- was that a fox? A little mahogany fox, yes, with a crown of tiny, sparkling blue chips around its head. The rest of the box was space- but not empty space, it was filled with sweet scented rose petals-
Blue rose petals. Zephyr's eyes widened and he reached for one, only to find there was something buried under the petals- something metal? He lifted it out, finding it to be a key- at least, he assumed it was a key, despite its... frankly bizarre shape. Even if it felt like metal, it looked like wood- and once he removed the paper curled around it, he saw the key displayed the same pattern as the box, all sorts of flowers and petals and leaves-
'I was beginning to worry you might never open that up.'Zephyr startled, nearly dropping the key as he leapt to his feet. That voice-
'You don't need to worry, Zephyr- I'm a friend!' There again, simply...
there, right in his brain! Of all the things-
And yet- he wondered if he ought to be more scared than he was. Already the initial shock was fading, and he felt the other party smiling- he couldn't place what exactly it was, a sensation that simply radiated delight, as the voice rang out again.
'I know- but this is how my kind speak, you see; I have been hoping so much you would pick up my key. Can't have a connection otherwise. I know this is sudden, and that it is a great deal to accept- but I was a friend of your grandfather's, Zephyr, and there are some things that he wished me to pass along to you...'