Blog #5: I must be dreaming

Reader, when we are told something that goes against how we understand the world, against science, against fact, we automatically reject it without a second thought. So when Phoenix told Elwood about nocturnes, he thought she was insane.

That is, until an orb of swirling white light appeared in Phoenix’s hand.

“This is what constace looks like,” she said.

Elwood staggered back, his mind searching for an explanation. A dream, he thought simply. I’m dreaming. That seemed to be enough for him to concentrate on Phoenix’s words.

“It’s the essence of deviation from reality.”

“Pardon?”

“I suppose it is hard for dinocts to understand. It’s the stuff that allows the world to break away from the laws of the universe. It’s akin to…magic.”

Elwood stood silently watching the swirling sparkling light. Suddenly, he felt something materialize in his pocket. Reaching into his jacket he pulled out a glowing pink flower. With his other hand, he pulled out another flower identical to the first. More and more flowers materialized. They overflowed in the pockets of his jacket, suddenly spilling onto the gravel of the parking lot. His dream was apparently getting stranger.

“This is an example of what constace does,” Phoenix said gesturing to the flowers “Haven’t you noticed anything peculiar about this town? About the people who live here?”

Elwood shook his head.

“This place, this town has been an active site of constace since the stone age. There’s so much of it here, we’re practically swimming in it. That’s why the people here are so strange, psychics, seers, phyllokinetics, they’re attracted to this place. That’s why nocturnes first settled here. There was so much constace to manipulate, it was a cake walk to create metaphysical ports,”

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”

Phoenix sighed. “Nocturnes. manipulate. constace. Constace. makes. things. weird. There’s. much. constace. here.”

Elwood nodded.

“But without nocturnes, constace does its own thing, especially in multitudes like this. That’s why strange things happen, like the frogs, and the glowing flowers piling at your feet.”

Elwood looked down at his feet again, where a small mountain of pink flowers was appearing.

“Lyra used to live here, and if she’s missing, and there are no nocturnes in this area…”

Phoenix trailed off for a second, contemplating.

“Mr. Evans…I think he might’ve been their guardian, and if he’s dead, we have a big problem.” 

Blog 4: Phoenix

There was someone trying to get into the building when Elwood was retreating to his room after a visit to the diner. Since it was late, Elwood half expected it to be his doom immersed in the darkness of a moonless night, mouth ajar with a toothpick between his canines, holding a shotgun with a death toll higher than the reaper himself. Instead, it was a young woman in a dark blue hoodie with red hair. Not the kind of natural red which looked a bit like ripe sun-kissed orange, but the red died on the flags that bore the Starry Plough. Surrounding the woman was an army of slimy green amphibians. She was buzzing one of the apartments when one of the croaking beasts hopped near one of her sneakers.

“...kick you straight to the moon if you don’t fuck off,” she mumbled.

The frog lazily closed its left eye and exploded its chest into a small bubble. This seemed to infuriate the woman who reared back her right leg preparing to punt the slimy thing down the street when Elwood dropped one of his books. The woman forgot herself and turned around to locate the source of the sound. Rage drained from her face, and a cold seriousness set upon it.

“Do you live here?” she asked.

Elwood nodded picking up his book.

 “I’m looking for Lyra Banks, is she here?”

“No, left a couple of days ago. She told me, if someone was looking for her, that they should talk to Mr. Evans,”

“Fine, where can I find him?”

“In the cemetery,”

The woman cursed under her breath running her hands through her red hair. As she did so, Elwood noticed a strange stark white constellation tattoo on her forearm, one of a different shape than Lyra’s but their likeness was uncanny.

“Why are you looking for Lyra?”

“She’s my…” the woman waved her hands in a circular motion trying to think of a word, suggesting their relationship was complicated “Whatever, why did Lyra talk to you? Who are you? How do you know her?”

“We’re old friends? I’m Elwood Clark,”

“Clark…Was your mother Ursa Clark?”

“Yes…” he said.  

The woman’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“A blank,” she mumbled “How remarkable.”

“Pardon?”

 “I’m Pheonix, Orthros tribe, circumpolar nocturne,” she said.

“I’m sorry, what?”

 “We have much to discuss,”