< Back
Chaos on Korrigan Street
The sweat that covered Tallis somehow made them both incredibly sticky (their shirt had glued itself to their skin about fifteen minutes ago) and incredibly slippery (it’s getting harder and harder to grip the lawnmower but that might just be fatigue). Combined with the harsh sun, occasional required fiddly focus and hard labour, it was the perfect recipe for exhaustion.
Trying to keep in mind how beautiful a cool shower would be after this, Tallis pushed the lawnmower over the last bit of longish grass. They straightened up and rolled their shoulders back. Finally, their lawn was back to a decent uniform length. The headphones were taken off their ears. Exhaling a tired breath, they turned to the thick reddish tree that brushed the sky from the middle of the roundabout. It was one of the most interesting trees they’d ever seen, partly because of the calm power it exuded, partly because of the blue-grey bark that clung to it in splotches and partly because of the person who inhabited it. Not that they’d ever admit it.
They swung themself to face their pretty ivy-woven brick house and jumped as a long finger poked their back.
“Cory,” Tallis hissed, snapping their head around and stumbling back. The person behind them smiled sardonically, looking at them with sharp eyes that changed colour like the sky during sunset. His frizzy hair was cropped close to his head and his red-brown skin was spotted with lighter patches, resembling the bark on his tree.
“Tallis,” Cory smirked. His palazzo pants fluttered around his ankles as he strode forward with an ethereal grace. “How goes the grass-mangling?”
Tallis harrumphed, maintaining eye contact with the tree spirit. “It’s going well. Y’know, maybe if you had let me mow your lawn last summer, or the one before that, you wouldn’t have had to hire a professional gardener to hack through it for the owners.”
“How was I supposed to know they were coming back?” Cory countered, tilting his head challengingly. Tallis deflated. He had a point. The tenancy termination notice had been sudden and unexpected, throwing the everyday pandemonium of Korrigan Street into sombre normalcy. The hellhounds at Number 2 stopped their infernal midnight howling, the werewolf kids at Number 5 had put their constant playfights on pause, May, Ampelus and Leander’s satyr parties at Number 9 hadn’t attracted police attention for two weeks, the constant chimney smoke from Felix’s magic at Number 8 had almost stopped completely, the folks at Number 4 hadn’t started raising any new illegal mythical livestock since those cockatrices a few months ago, Amunet the sphinx had stopped forcing people passing Number 7 to answer riddles and just sat solemnly in the sunshine instead, no explosions or magic fluctuations had come from Dr. Blackwood’s experiments at Number 6 for a while, the unspeakable horrors that lived at Number 3 hadn’t tried to consume Sydney this month and the people at Number 1… Tallis didn’t like to think about the people at Number 1. The letter had been different from the problems all of the fantastical residents of Korrigan Street were used to, and they hadn’t liked it one bit. Cory being forced out of his house was something that couldn’t be stopped by finding a magic sword, figuring out the puzzle, making a wacky invention or throwing a party that would put the gods to shame. It was too real to fight with spells, teeth, claws or existential terror.
“I’m going to Donut Dining to spy on our new neighbours,” Cory declared, shaking off the funk they’d both sunk into. “They should be coming soon. Would you care to join me?”
“AFTER I have a shower,” Tallis bargained, ‘pausing’ Cory with a finger.
Cory grinned. Whenever he did, it wasn’t an expression of joy. It was a smug celebration. “See you there, sweetheart.”
- - - ~ * ~ - - -
Cory sipped his chai latte, alternating between watching the road and the person opposite him at the cafe table. Tallis was certainly an interesting person to be- to have been next door neighbours with. Especially given what both of them were: two spirits of the forest as different as autumn and spring. Cory was an immortal tree spirit and Tallis was just barely touched by magic, their skills given an edge by forest enchantment. A huntsman, a woodcutter, stepped right out of a fairytale to kill something or save the day.
But they weren’t killing anything right now. And they had never done anything more drastic than eradicate a colony of termites in the floorboards of his house one time…
So Cory could quietly justify enjoying Tallis’ presence to himself.
He’d never do it out loud.
Tallis would never let her hear the end of it.
(Her? Okay)
When Tallis turned around, they didn’t bat an eyelid at Cory’s longer hair or altered appearance. They just pointed at a truck meandering down the road, unmistakably heading toward Korrigan Street.
“So that’s them,” Cory sniffed.
“Kinda anticlimactic, to be honest,” Tallis said, “Given-” -they made a circling gesture with their hands, presumably referring to them and their street- “I thought they’d be riding in on broomsticks or dragons.”
Cory shrugged and sipped her latte before continuing. “They aren’t supernatural in the slightest.”
“Oh,” Tallis said, taking an idle bite of their donut. Then they almost spat it out after they processed what she said. “OH-!”
“Indeed,” Cory smiled.
“By d’Aulnoy,” Tallis breathed, “What’s everyone going to do? You all had enough trouble telling me and Silvine and we had magic in our blood.”
“It’s not my concern-”
“It IS your concern and don’t you dare pretend otherwise,” the woodcutter snarled, squashing their poor cheesymite donut in their fist as they leaned forward. “You live on Korrigan Street too. Moving out of Number 11 didn’t change where your tree is and don’t pretend you could just disappear forever. Your family lived here long before any humans arrived, Aboriginal or European, and you’ve stayed where Korrigan Street would be centuries before the First Fleet came. I don’t think you can just leave it. Not because of duty, or anything like that. Because you care. You’re the protector of the street and you have been for longer than even you remember. Whoever’s moving in could change everything, expose us all.” They slumped a bit as the fire racing through their veins cooled, but the eyes that met Tallis’ were just as intense. “Please don’t abandon us now.”
Tallis couldn’t get words out - her throat was as dry as scorched sandstone. Even if she could, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t form any answer to that bloody monologue that wasn’t how dare you say that to me, you little twig. I’ve seen victories and people fighting with everything they have. This is nothing.
But it wasn’t.
What would happen to Dr. Blackwood’s experiments with magic and the dozen-odd yokai living with her if the police came in? Her research on utilising magic as renewable energy would never see the light of day. There were children in the werewolf pack who would be put in danger. Most of the residents would be locked up - or worse, given what they were known for. And her tree was there. If everyone was discovered, whoever moved there could have it killed. They might even go after it deliberately if they knew it was tied to her.
Cory swallowed the sip of latte she’d had a minute ago.
“Alright,” she whispered, nodding.
“Good,” Tallis harrumphed. “Someone needs to keep everyone in check and it’s not going to be me.”
The sweat that covered Tallis somehow made them both incredibly sticky (their shirt had glued itself to their skin about fifteen minutes ago) and incredibly slippery (it’s getting harder and harder to grip the lawnmower but that might just be fatigue). Combined with the harsh sun, occasional required fiddly focus and hard labour, it was the perfect recipe for exhaustion.
Trying to keep in mind how beautiful a cool shower would be after this, Tallis pushed the lawnmower over the last bit of longish grass. They straightened up and rolled their shoulders back. Finally, their lawn was back to a decent uniform length. The headphones were taken off their ears. Exhaling a tired breath, they turned to the thick reddish tree that brushed the sky from the middle of the roundabout. It was one of the most interesting trees they’d ever seen, partly because of the calm power it exuded, partly because of the blue-grey bark that clung to it in splotches and partly because of the person who inhabited it. Not that they’d ever admit it.
They swung themself to face their pretty ivy-woven brick house and jumped as a long finger poked their back.
“Cory,” Tallis hissed, snapping their head around and stumbling back. The person behind them smiled sardonically, looking at them with sharp eyes that changed colour like the sky during sunset. His frizzy hair was cropped close to his head and his red-brown skin was spotted with lighter patches, resembling the bark on his tree.
“Tallis,” Cory smirked. His palazzo pants fluttered around his ankles as he strode forward with an ethereal grace. “How goes the grass-mangling?”
Tallis harrumphed, maintaining eye contact with the tree spirit. “It’s going well. Y’know, maybe if you had let me mow your lawn last summer, or the one before that, you wouldn’t have had to hire a professional gardener to hack through it for the owners.”
“How was I supposed to know they were coming back?” Cory countered, tilting his head challengingly. Tallis deflated. He had a point. The tenancy termination notice had been sudden and unexpected, throwing the everyday pandemonium of Korrigan Street into sombre normalcy. The hellhounds at Number 2 stopped their infernal midnight howling, the werewolf kids at Number 5 had put their constant playfights on pause, May, Ampelus and Leander’s satyr parties at Number 9 hadn’t attracted police attention for two weeks, the constant chimney smoke from Felix’s magic at Number 8 had almost stopped completely, the folks at Number 4 hadn’t started raising any new illegal mythical livestock since those cockatrices a few months ago, Amunet the sphinx had stopped forcing people passing Number 7 to answer riddles and just sat solemnly in the sunshine instead, no explosions or magic fluctuations had come from Dr. Blackwood’s experiments at Number 6 for a while, the unspeakable horrors that lived at Number 3 hadn’t tried to consume Sydney this month and the people at Number 1… Tallis didn’t like to think about the people at Number 1. The letter had been different from the problems all of the fantastical residents of Korrigan Street were used to, and they hadn’t liked it one bit. Cory being forced out of his house was something that couldn’t be stopped by finding a magic sword, figuring out the puzzle, making a wacky invention or throwing a party that would put the gods to shame. It was too real to fight with spells, teeth, claws or existential terror.
“I’m going to Donut Dining to spy on our new neighbours,” Cory declared, shaking off the funk they’d both sunk into. “They should be coming soon. Would you care to join me?”
“AFTER I have a shower,” Tallis bargained, ‘pausing’ Cory with a finger.
Cory grinned. Whenever he did, it wasn’t an expression of joy. It was a smug celebration. “See you there, sweetheart.”
- - - ~ * ~ - - -
Cory sipped his chai latte, alternating between watching the road and the person opposite him at the cafe table. Tallis was certainly an interesting person to be- to have been next door neighbours with. Especially given what both of them were: two spirits of the forest as different as autumn and spring. Cory was an immortal tree spirit and Tallis was just barely touched by magic, their skills given an edge by forest enchantment. A huntsman, a woodcutter, stepped right out of a fairytale to kill something or save the day.
But they weren’t killing anything right now. And they had never done anything more drastic than eradicate a colony of termites in the floorboards of his house one time…
So Cory could quietly justify enjoying Tallis’ presence to himself.
He’d never do it out loud.
Tallis would never let her hear the end of it.
(Her? Okay)
When Tallis turned around, they didn’t bat an eyelid at Cory’s longer hair or altered appearance. They just pointed at a truck meandering down the road, unmistakably heading toward Korrigan Street.
“So that’s them,” Cory sniffed.
“Kinda anticlimactic, to be honest,” Tallis said, “Given-” -they made a circling gesture with their hands, presumably referring to them and their street- “I thought they’d be riding in on broomsticks or dragons.”
Cory shrugged and sipped her latte before continuing. “They aren’t supernatural in the slightest.”
“Oh,” Tallis said, taking an idle bite of their donut. Then they almost spat it out after they processed what she said. “OH-!”
“Indeed,” Cory smiled.
“By d’Aulnoy,” Tallis breathed, “What’s everyone going to do? You all had enough trouble telling me and Silvine and we had magic in our blood.”
“It’s not my concern-”
“It IS your concern and don’t you dare pretend otherwise,” the woodcutter snarled, squashing their poor cheesymite donut in their fist as they leaned forward. “You live on Korrigan Street too. Moving out of Number 11 didn’t change where your tree is and don’t pretend you could just disappear forever. Your family lived here long before any humans arrived, Aboriginal or European, and you’ve stayed where Korrigan Street would be centuries before the First Fleet came. I don’t think you can just leave it. Not because of duty, or anything like that. Because you care. You’re the protector of the street and you have been for longer than even you remember. Whoever’s moving in could change everything, expose us all.” They slumped a bit as the fire racing through their veins cooled, but the eyes that met Tallis’ were just as intense. “Please don’t abandon us now.”
Tallis couldn’t get words out - her throat was as dry as scorched sandstone. Even if she could, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t form any answer to that bloody monologue that wasn’t how dare you say that to me, you little twig. I’ve seen victories and people fighting with everything they have. This is nothing.
But it wasn’t.
What would happen to Dr. Blackwood’s experiments with magic and the dozen-odd yokai living with her if the police came in? Her research on utilising magic as renewable energy would never see the light of day. There were children in the werewolf pack who would be put in danger. Most of the residents would be locked up - or worse, given what they were known for. And her tree was there. If everyone was discovered, whoever moved there could have it killed. They might even go after it deliberately if they knew it was tied to her.
Cory swallowed the sip of latte she’d had a minute ago.
“Alright,” she whispered, nodding.
“Good,” Tallis harrumphed. “Someone needs to keep everyone in check and it’s not going to be me.”