Acceptance of the Self

Book 1: Attunement of the Hearts

Chapter 16.mde - Learning the Ropes

___________________ ღ♥ღ ___________________

Madelaine

¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯ •.¸ ¸.• ¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯

 

[ - Sunday Sept. 08 2019, 9:45am, The Beach - ]

 

Okay, let’s try this again, I think to myself. 

 

I’m inside my own mind. Ellie and I have been trying to manifest our ‘focus objects’ for the past half an hour it feels like, but neither of us has managed to keep them in existence for more than a few moments at a time.

 

I want to make a staff . I can make a staff, I am making a staff. A wizard staff that shapes reality around it, specifically. This is a certainty in my mind.

 

Why do I need this before I can do cool shit like summoning a whole wizard castle sanctuary? No clue! But this is what the experienced impish nerd from another world is telling me to do, so do it I shall. 

 

“It might help to summon the item from a memory,” Anne chimes in quietly, smoothly slipping into my awareness a few moments after I’d stopped my latest attempt. She’s been offering us pointers the whole time.

 

“Hmm,” I reply, “I don’t remember having access to awesome wizard staffs in our youth.”

 

“It doesn’t have to have been a magical object before,” she quips with a roll of her eyes, “just any object that resonates with you. Something that makes you feel good to hold, maybe?” 

 

I try to remember the last time I held something staff-like, and come upon a memory from childhood of being on a hike. I’d picked up a me-sized birch tree branch from the underbrush and used it as a walking stick for a short time before some adult had told me to throw it away. I shrug internally: it’s as good a staff as any.

 

I delve deeper into the memory, trying to recall more. The branch had had a smaller growth about nine tenths of the way up the shaft that curved away from and then toward the main shaft, so that it formed a little teardrop-shaped oval of space at the top like I’d figured any good scepter ought to have. The white bark with brown stripes’d made it look elegant, I’d thought. I still think, actually. I like birch trees. And I’d really liked that particular branch. I wish I’d been able to keep it.

 

I center in on the moment I picked up the staff from the underbrush on the side of the dirt trail. It’s difficult to hold on to the memory, at first. I don’t really know where I was when this happened, or who I was with. All I remember is my little hand grasping the smooth bark, and the heft of it as I stood. But there’s not much context for the memory. 

 

I feel a little flicker of suggestion from Anne. The context doesn’t matter as much, it can be whatever I want. 

 

So I start to make it up a bit. I’m hiking along with my staff through the woods by my family’s house. I concentrate on the feeling of the smooth bark against my skin, gripping the length of wood tightly with my right hand. I feel the weight of it as I stamp it down on the ground and use it to pull myself forward a bit with each step I take. 

 

“That’s perfect,” Anne murmurs somewhere in my head. 

 

I grumble in response, working to maintain focus on this memory-scene. 

 

“Pull the staff back to me, make it real in your mind’s eye.”

 

I grumble some more, but try to comply.

 

Vaguely, I know Anne is still standing beside me in the tree house. Yet she feels distant, and the forest surrounding me is much more immediate. It’s eerily similar to how it feels to be inside the mental tree house while my physical body is out there in the real world. 

 

Maybe this is the kind of shit people mean when they say they get lost in their own thoughts.

 

“Reach into the memory and pull the staff out into the beach house,” Anne says softly. It sounds a lot more like a gentle reminder than a chastising request, and there’s a flurry of memories and thoughts tied up in the words. There’s explanations for things I can’t wrap my conscious mind around, but which make decent sense to my subconscious. 

 

Her words help me focus surprisingly well.

 

I grip the wooden stick tightly, and tug on it with both my arm and my will. I become more aware of myself in the tree house, more and more of my senses lining up to those in the beach world: except for the feeling of my hand holding the staff. It’s like I’m zooming out with a camera, only I keep one specific part of the image at the same size as everything else about the memory fades into the background. 

 

When I open my eyes, I have the staff grasped in my hand. Almost immediately, I feel afraid that it’s going to flicker out like all my other attempts have. Anne places a hand on my shoulder, and I feel a wave of calm wash those fears away. I’ve got the staff now, I’ve passed her test. 

 

“Holy shit,” I say quietly. 

 

I pass the wooden shaft to my other hand, marveling at the weight of it. It’s scaled up from child-sized Maddie to adult-sized Maddie, so it’s about five and three quarters feet long and two and a half inches in diameter.

 

As I become more aware of my surroundings, I catch sight of Ellie twirling a pink and gold fountain pen in her fingers with a smile on her face. 

 

“Nice job!” she says to me, “is that from our hike at Camp Ranshurg?”

 

I blink. “Uh,” I say uncertainly, “It’s from a hike somewhere, I don’t remember where.”

 

Ellie’s eyebrows rise. “I’m pretty sure I remember that from that summer camp,” she muses, “I guess we do have some differences in memory.”

 

I glance to Anne beside me, but she seems content to let us sort this out ourselves. 

 

“Yeah,” I reply after a moment, “I guess we do.”

 

We’re all quiet for a while. Ellie looks as lost in thought as I am over what this means. If we have different memories of such early events, then we probably split off from each other even before then. 

 

“Would you both like to take a break from this practice?” Anne asks after a few more minutes have passed. 

 

“Yeah,” Ellie replies, “that sounds like a good idea.” 

 

I feel relief wash through me, and excitement at the prospect of getting on with the day outside our head.

 

 

 

___________________ ღ♥ღ ___________________

Dawn

¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯ •.¸ ¸.• ¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯

 

I stare up at the sloped beige ceiling of the game room, nestled comfortably in a cocoon of blankets atop one of the family air mattresses. 

 

Ellie had been stirring on the couch beside me a couple minutes ago, but now all is quiet. I wonder if she’s actually gone back to sleep, or if she’s just enjoying the serenity of the morning like I am. 

 

Well, I suppose I’m doing a bit more than enjoy the moment. I’m thinking hard about my friend, and anything I can possibly do to help her in her current predicament. She’s just hatched her cis boy egg shell to reveal the beautiful trans girl within it, while also dealing with a possible magical girl living in her head and the knowledge that she is a part of a plural system with at least one other person. Any one of those things would be tough to deal with, but all of them at once? It’s a wonder she hasn’t imploded under the stress of it all! 

 

I know I’m feeling worn out just trying to wrap my head around the fact that I possibly saw someone cast a magical light spell yesterday afternoon. Like, what if magic is actually real? Like for real for real? 

 

The thought is as exciting as it is terrifying, because if magic is real, that means there’s almost certainly people out there who can use it. And given the sorry, sorry state of our hyper capitalist reality I can only assume at least some of the people who can do magic are evil bastards who are only out for themselves.

 

Though then are people like my historian dad, Jay, who research magic and occult stuff out of curiosity and a genuine desire to help people live in harmony with the world around them. Jay’d probably have a really interesting take on Ellie’s predicament, now that I think about it. But there’s no way I’ll talk to him about it without checking with my best friend, first.

 

After a few more minutes of quietly stewing on that, I get bored and my brain starts to panic about the other big thing that had happened yesterday.

 

I came out to my family as a girl. As their daughter, Dawn. And it had gone... well? Like really, really well. My dads had been angels last night. They’d made such a point to keep gendering Ellie and I correctly and casually using our new names as often as possible. Not to mention Sky’s beatific response to our whole coming out in general. It had been a wild, wonderful night.

 

I take in a deep, calming breath, then let it out slowly. 

 

Damn, I can’t believe my deepest, darkest secret is out there in the open now. I feel that familiar sense of walking a tightrope over a yawning void of isolation and abandonment. Except this time I have my dads, Sky, and Ellie all supporting me, keeping me balanced above the despair. It feels good - safe - in a way that nothing else in my life has ever really come close to.

 

“You awake?” Ellie’s voice asks softly.

 

I start a little bit at the sound, forgoing any chance I had at feigning sleep. “Uh, yeah,” I whisper back.

 

There’s rustling, and then Ellie’s head pops into my peripheral vision. I turn my head a little to focus on her.

 

“What’s up?” I ask.

 

She blinks at me, which is her default action for ‘error: what’, and looks as if she’d wanted to ask me the same question. 

 

“Um,” she says, “I guess I’m just wondering how you’re holding up, with everything that happened yesterday?”

 

I laugh a little. “I’m trying to process it all still, I think,” I reply.

 

She nods. “Yeah, same here I guess. Plus Maddie and I are trying to learn how to do some of the stuff that Anne can do. Like, create our own dream worlds we can visit when we’re not out in the body?”

 

I raise an eyebrow. “Damn,” I say, “that sounds trippy as hell but also cool as hell.”

 

I feel just the faintest tinges of envy at that. I kinda wish I could go to my own dream world and escape the reality of my body.

 

Ellie laughs in response. “It’s weird as hell, that’s for sure.”

 

I give her a wry smile. “I don’t suppose Anne’s willing to give out lessons to anyone outside of, uh, you?” 

 

My friend frowns. “Uhm, I dunno. Why do you ask?”

 

“Just curious,” I say as nonchalantly as possible. I don’t want to cause anyone stress over this.

 

Ellie tilts her head to one side and her eyes go a bit unfocused for a moment. I curse internally, hoping I’ve not made an ass of myself.

 

But my friend sharpens back up, and her eyes meet mine readily. “She says not yet, not until we’ve figured out this stuff ourselves, but maybe in the future!”

 

She’s smiling now, and I reflexively smile back though I’m still not happy with myself. 

 

“Okay cool, thanks!” I reply quickly.

 

“Anyway,” Ellie says, “what were you thinking about before I spoke up?”

 

“How did you even know I was up?” I ask pointedly. 

 

Ellie smiles. “I peeked earlier and saw you staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought.”

 

Damn, I can’t believe I hadn’t heard her move. 

 

“Well,” I reply, “I was thinking about my family, and you and Anne, Maddie, and magic.” 

 

I tilt my head a little, looking at her carefully. Should I tell her about my dad idea? She looks fairly happy at the moment, hopefully this won’t ruin the mood.

 

“Actually, I was kinda wondering what Jay would say about everything we know so far. Of all the responsible adults I know, he’s got to be one of the fairest and most honest.”

 

Ellie blinks a few times in rapid succession. “Oh shit,” she says, “I guess if I wanted to ask an adult, he’d be perfect.”

 

“Before we consider that, how are you feeling this morning?” I ask softly. “Any further panic or memory loss or anything?”

 

She shakes her head. “No, er, well, I was panicked when I woke up that Maddie was gone, but I woke her up with the panic so that sorted itself out pretty quickly.”

 

Of course she’s panicking about other people in her system. I grin at her. “That sounds about right.”

 

She puffs out her cheeks, which is incredibly cute, then blows the air out. “I’m not used to being alone, we’ve been mixed up together for probably over a decade or two!” she explains.

 

I hold up a hand and smile. “Of course! It makes sense, it just also fits you, I think. You’ve always been a mom friend.”

 

Her cheeks go bright red at that. “I just care about my friends!” she says with a pout.

 

“And that’s why we all love you so much and care about you, too,” I say with sincerity. 

 

“Anyway,” she says pointedly, glaring at me, “I might actually be up for talking to Jay about this stuff, as long as you think it’s safe? Like, he won’t want to cart me off to an institution, right?”

 

I stare at her with surprise. “Of course not!” I say seriously, “the man loves weird shit, he’d only intervene if you were in direct danger.”

 

Ellie smiles. “I know, I’m just nervous.”

 

“We don’t have to do it today or anytime soon,” I reply.

 

“I know that too, but I think I kinda want to? Like, if we can figure out if there are other people like me, that might help us understand why the hell this is happening and what we’re supposed to do about it,” she says earnestly.

 

“Well, how about we get up, have breakfast, and see if he’s in his study? We’ll want to make sure no one else gets wind of it.”

 

Ellie agrees, and soon enough we’re both changed into day clothes and headed towards the stairs for food. As I pass by it, I notice with a twinge of unease that Sky’s door is slightly ajar. I send up a brief prayer that they hadn’t heard anything Ellie and I had talked about, hoping that if the gods are actually real they might cut us some slack.

 

 

 

___________________ ღ♥ღ ___________________

Ellie

¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯ •.¸ ¸.• ¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯

Breakfast ends up being leftover Thai food, and there’s no one else around in the kitchen. The door to Dawn’s dads’ bedroom is closed, and I figure Sky and Eve are still sleeping upstairs. At ten am it’s fairly early for anyone in the Anderson household to be awake and sociable.

 

As I’m getting breakfast heated up, I feel a firm tug on my thoughts from Maddie. 

 

Hey, can I front? they ask.

 

Uh, sure, I reply, what’s up?

 

Just for a little bit, they say, I want to talk to Dawn about the plural stuff we’re dealing with.

 

Okay, anything I should be worried about? I ask.

 

No no, nothing bad. I just want to get her take on everything we’ve been learning from Anne.

 

Fine by me, I think at them. 

 

Then I focus my mind’s eye on the big black-barked tree-turned-house. I imagine myself stepping backwards from the viewing screen, and shift my perception to focus on the feeling of the mossy carpet beneath my sandal-clad feet.

 

Maddie’s there beside me, and they give me a hug before stepping forward and disappearing. The massive screen representing our eyes opens on Dawn giving us a curious look.

 

“Hi Dawn,” my voice - or rather, Maddie’s voice - says. 

 

“Heya,” says Dawn, “what’s up?”

 

I feel Maddie smile. “This is Madelaine,” they respond, “I wanted to talk to you before we talk to Jay...”

 

I get the feeling that Maddie wants some privacy for this conversation, so I wander away from the viewing screen as they get into the meat of their questions. 

 

There’s still not much in the way of furniture inside this big hollow tree, aside from the chairs and sofas near the viewing area. But I spy a table towards the door that hadn’t been there before, and I head towards it. On the way, I send out a questing thought towards the bridge outside, and to Anne beyond it. 

 

Hey Anne, are you around? I ask.

 

Maybe if I’m lucky, I can get some more practice time in with her and get to work building my own mind-space.

 

I reach the table a moment later. I realize it seems to be modeled on Dawn’s family’s table, now that I’m closer to it, so I grab my usual seat. 

 

There’s a few moments of quiet. I take the time to delve back into my memory from middle school, twirling a cute metal pink and gold pen through my fingers. It had been from some business or school or something that had been handing out free stuff, but little me had taken the brightly colored pen and completely ignored whatever had been inscribed on it originally. 

 

I try my best to practice what Anne taught us this morning. I split my focus, part of me in the memory gripping the pen, and part of me in the tree house sitting at the table. I work to align my senses primarily with the set in the tree house, while keeping the pen gripped tightly in my hand. It’s difficult, sort of like I’m pulling it through molasses, but Anne had assured us it would get easier with practice. A moment later I find myself sitting in the chair with pen in hand and a grin on my face. Not bad for my second ever attempt.

 

Hello, comes Anne’s voice faintly, I could be there. What’s going on?

 

Not much, I think, idly setting the pen down on the table, but I’m interested in trying to make my own mind space.

 

I get an image of Anne smirking at me, and then one of her standing at the edge of the bridge on the beach. Come out here, then, she says.

 

I oblige, grabbing my pen and walking out into the bright sunshine of the beach. 

 

“Good morning,” I call to Anne in her native tongue, “Er, is it morning for you all?”

 

She chuckles. “It is indeed,” she replies in the same language, “We’ve been up for hours.”

 

“Oh yeah?” I ask, intrigued. “What exactly do you do most days?”

 

Anne smiles. “Officially we’re a captain of the city guard. Unofficially, we’re part of a ɥab that helps people move in or out of the city walls without having to pay the ridiculous fees or suffer from the ɧøngœóĥe̊ and chæóĥe̊ of the system.”

 

Some of her words take me a minute to parse. I gather that ɥab or ‘wab’ is a kind of secret alliance or network, while ‘chunga-oh-eh’ and ‘chay-oh-eh’ roughly translate to ‘race divide’ and ‘class divide’, respectively.

 

“Fuck,” I say after a moment, “that’s pretty awesome of you.”

 

Anne tilts her head, giving me an appraising look. “I’m glad you think so,” she replies.

 

“What’s beyond the city walls?” I ask curiously.

“Mostly wilderness, with many dangerous creatures and wild, unstable pockets of magic. But there are countless hidden villages and other oases for people who refuse to bow down to the merchant guilds that run the cities,” she explains.

 

“Holy shit,” I say, suddenly feeling very acutely aware of my comparatively simple and privileged life. “Is there anything we can do to help you with all that?”

 

Anne purses her lips. “I’m not sure we need your help. But you all promising not to cross over to our mind without permission is a start.”

 

I nod rapidly. “Of course! I’ll pass that on to Maddie.”

 

“Thanks,” Anne replies, “I’ll do the same for you. I took your summons just now as an invitation.”

 

“It was!” I say with a smile.

 

“Cool. So, you want to try your hand at creating a mindspace, eh?” she asks.

 

“Yes please!” I reply.

 

“Alright, here’s what you’re going to do...”

 

 

 

End of 

Chapter 16.mde - Learning the Ropes