The Chimera

Chapter Fifteen: Wonder of the Times

When Jasper ducks out of the office to escape into an autumn afternoon, it's to the called farewells of his fellow coworkers, either out the door or preparing to leave themselves. He responds to their leave-takings with his own pleasantries, smiling bashfully when one mentions, "It's been a full year since you joined us, yes? Congratulations!"

It had been a year and a month, to be precise, but who's counting?

Jasper had stormed the walls of his initial professional awkwardness to come out the other side: still awkward, but more comfortable about it. He knows the names of the majority of his coworkers (and for those that he can't remember, he's now too afraid to ask. It's been too long now to admit that he needs a name refresher.)

The work is dull, tedious, but constant. His mind is sometimes even pleasantly numbed by the filing. And when the numbed sensation isn't pleasant, the excitement of knowing about the bell at home is always there to lift his mood.

Jasper has now gone over a week without ringing himself into the other world, the recent long hours at work draining his energy and incentive to do so.

Today, however, he will make the time.

The outside air has that smoky quality that only autumn can give it, Jasper's light coat doing just enough to keep him warm as he weaves through the familiar streets of Cadeus Falls. The sun's light is weak through the clouds, but Jasper feels vibrant anyway.

He keeps the coat on even after turning the lock to enter his room, knowing that the seasons in Beledon follow the same pattern as his own world. If the bell takes him somewhere outdoors, he'll be glad to have it with him.

Leaving his satchel on a hook by the doorway, Jasper makes his way to the room's small table, where the bell waits. Next to it is a newly-purchased mixing bowl, decorated in whimsical designs of blue and gold. Tucking the bowl under his arm, he rings himself away.

The knowledge acquired steadily over a year of bell usage rears its head now, allowing Jasper to identify which part of Beledon he's in only moments after arriving there.

Although he's still miles from the actual coast, he knows he's in the eastern districts simply by the way the breeze carries the sea's faint scent. It's not something that can be sensed from the western half of the city.

The streets are more congested than they've ever been, a detail that now works in Jasper's favor. His sudden appearance is less notable because of it: just one more body in Beledon, a city now brimming not only with its usual residents, but by refugees from the countryside seeking strong walls between them and the specters.

Jasper tries not to let that bleak train of thought overtake him on what he is determined to make a happy day.

Besides, this world is still unfailingly lovely.

Grape vines slither up the sides of homes to drape their fruits and leaves over balconies, ready to be harvested before the dormancy of winter. A butterfly duo dances through the air; one alights on a potted cluster of purple asters, the other waits for its friend before they drift off together into the east. A more learned scholar of butterflies than Jasper would note that they are pearl crescents, orange wings run through with delicate black.

Jasper watches them fly away, wondering if they will make it all the way to the ships that come to rest at the city harbor, if they'll show off the way their wings surpass any ordinary sea-sails in color, shape, and beauty.

A potent brightness begins to expand in him: in this one second, everything is good.

He shakes his head at himself. A year spent in and out of the company of Zahara has had him infected with the sentiments of an artist. The thought reminds him of why he's here.