Authentic Raven Sound


(Chronological index: Ray College Freshman)

"I will not!" She turned around and gave the desk a little stomp.

In the mirror she caught a glimpse as Ray looked from her back to the costume and sighed.

"You have to, Annie," he said. "Sylphs aren't historical."

"Then I'll be an anachronism. That's even in the name of the group! Creative Anachronism!"

"That only means ancient stuff is brought forward, anachronistically," he explained. "And cultures that had no contact meeting in the dining hall. But they're really adamant about getting the historical details right. I think it's because everyone else lumps them in with the D&D players."

He stroked her hair with a fingertip, running it down her spine to her tailbone. She started to relax into the backrub but remembered that she was mad.

"So, now they're saying that Leprechauns are real?"

"It's a major concession for them," he said. "But that's as far as they'll bend the rules. You have to go as a Leprechaun." He moved the costume a bit closer.

She sniffed and turned around to face him. "Every Leprechaun I've ever heard of was male. So I doubt," and she pointed to his hand, "that green miniskirts are historical, either."

"I think you'll look very sexy in it," he promised.

"Ah t'ink ah can nae do 'n Irish brogue," she protested.

"That's a Scottish burr," he pointed out with a wince.

"SEE!?" She paced around his cup of ink pens. "What about a familiar?"

"I can't be a witch."

She glared up at him. "So I'll spend all night with morons making, quote, witty remarks, end of quote, about finding my pot o' gold? You want a lightning rod for BANAL BULLSHIT on your shoulder all night?"

Annie tried hard to hide her smile as his head sank to the desk. Magnanimous in victory, she strode to his side and stroked his ear. "Don't worry. We'll figure something out. Something that might even get you laid at the party."

------

"No familiars," the Viking said, nodding at Ray's shoulder.

"She's just a pet," he protested, carefully pulling back his hood. "My druid found her, wounded in the wing, nursed her back to health. She can't fly but we have formed a bond."

"Hmmm," the doorkeeper mused. He looked Annie over.

She cocked her head sideways, hoping the raven bill didn't fall off, flapped her feathered elbows and said, "Authentic raven sound." The warrior smiled and stepped aside.

"Pass, friends," he said.

"Thanks," Ray said.

"Like, caw, dude," Annie added.

There was a full length mirror in the hallway. Ray paused before it to let someone out of the kitchen with a tray of authentic party snacks. Annie looked over the two of them as he waited.

Ray had lucked onto a Friar Tuck robe that he'd made into a convincing druid costume. His wooden staff was topped with a doll made to resemble him. They even wore the same robe.

Annie perched on his shoulder. Her costume was a black microfiber catsuit with feather trim and a bird head. They'd found the raven in a party shop, as décor for an 'over the hill' themed birthday party.

On sighting the bird, her costume had sprung into both their minds. "You remember teaching me that poem in grade school?" he'd asked.

"Now we just need something for you to wear as an accessory to my costume," she'd said.

All together, she found the effect rather impressive. She nodded in satisfaction. Then she noticed that Ray was watching her in the mirror. He winked and they went in to the party.

The usual range of SCA personas was in attendance. The cultures cribbed from were anywhere from Ancient Rome to Dark Age Europe. Costumes were simple faux animal skins or elaborate layered replicas. Replica weapons were relatively rare. Six foot claymore swords were impressive at an outdoor meet, but an obstacle when sitting on a sofa.

Ray scooted along the wall, trying to find anyone he knew.

"I thought I knew all the monks at the university," a voice called. It was from the other side of his head, Annie could see nothing except for a leaf-shaped fan sticking out into view.

"I'm not a monk," Ray explained. He pulled out a Tigers Eye gem on a pewter necklace. "See? No cross." He also shifted his staff to the hand on the other side. "I'm supposed to be a druid."

"Okay," she said. "I thought I knew all the druids in the kingdom." Annie tuned out Ray's explanation. He hadn't quite signed up with the Society yet, still deciding, looking around, invited by a TA, etc.

She scanned the room while she waited for Ray to remember her and introduce her. It might be a while. Annie thought that it sounded like the woman was a redhead.

There wasn't anything in her voice that would indicate it, but Ray's tone always shifted ever so slightly when he spoke to one.

A man in a toga held up a piece of flatbread. It was probably historically authentic lavash or something similar…baked in an oven that got power from the nuclear plant, of course. But Annie's ire at the inconstant Society rules vanished when the Roman spoke.

"Polly wanna cracker?" he asked with an indulgent smile.

She smiled and tilted her head. "Polly wanna pop the eyeballs out of your up-staring nob and eat them like grapes before the juice drains out."

"Um, er…" the sheet bandit stumbled.

"Big, jellied grapes," she continued. "Stab 'em with her beak and poke 'em out like…"

"Um?" Ray asked, turning slightly as the guy made his escape.

"Some guy can't tell the difference between a pirate's parrot and a noble Corvus," she explained, preening just a little bit.

"Right," he said, turning around. Cleopatra or one of her attendants was resting against the edge of a standing piano. The artfully trimmed eyebrows rose as Annie came into view.

The woman's hair was jet black, but Ray's 'redhead sighted' tone was easy to explain. Her gown didn't cover very much of an extremely pert bosom.

"What's that?" she was asking as Annie was estimating the square footage of skin showing.

"Depends on how you mean," Ray said. "This is my sylph, Annie, who I've had since The Day. But as a druid, for the purpose of this party, this is my raven. A friend, in a perfectly secular relationship that could be misconstrued as a familiar by those that believe in or accept such things."

"Arawk!" Annie screeched. "Such an engineer he is, in any century."

"Uh huh," Cleo muttered. She glanced at her wrist where a tiny stone sundial was affixed to a leather strap. "Oh, look at the time! I must be off." She scooted away through the crowd.

"Engineerphobia or sylphysteria?" Ray asked, eyes on the translucent covering of the retreating ass.

"I'm sure it's my fault," Annie assured him. Ray shook his head and started moving across the room once more.

"Well, shiver mah timbers, Polly, if it ain't another talkin' damned bird-thing!"



Ray turned carefully towards the voice. Once again, Annie was on the trailing shoulder so his great, huge noggin blocked her view for an aggravating second.

A woman in a 'pirate wench' costume stood with her hands on her hips, smiling rather condescendingly at Ray and Annie. A sylph stood on her shoulder, dressed up to resemble a parrot. He squawked, flapped his cardboard wings and scooted around on her epaulet.

"More Disneyland ride than Caribbean history," Annie whispered in Ray's ear. He nodded very slightly.

"Varmit, there ain't room at this party for more'n one talking shoulder fowl," she boomed. People in the room turned to watch the confrontation.

"What are you going to do about that?" Ray asked. "Run me through with your rapier?"

"This be a cutlass, mate!" she said, waving her plastic weapon threateningly.

"Sure it is," he said. "If you want to call a perfectly straight blade a cutlass, well, wouldn't want to make a hard-assed pirate cry, would we, Raven?"

"Shrawk! Call a spade a spade," Annie shrieked. "Give the name of her blade!"

"Hang on, hang on," someone said. He stepped in between the two, hands held out to either one. He was dressed in some sort of medieval costume Annie didn't recognize. "As the Baron, I'll settle this. Who's picking the fight, here?"

"Yonder varmit is copying-"

"Sheila," the Baron interrupted, "do you mean 'varlet?' Because 'varmit' would make more sense if you were Yosemite Samantha than if you're being Ann Bonney."

"He's copying us!" Sheila said, dropping any attempt at an accent. "He and his little shoulder slut are copying me and Polly. Peter. Me and Peter. He should leave."

Peter the Parrot squawked 'Shiver me timbers!' in agreement.

Ray waited until the man turned and gave a questioning look. "We've never seen this woman or her costume before in our lives. I thought we'd come up with a pretty clever outfit. But we're not really members yet, so we'll leave if there's any problem."

Annie was aggravated that he'd let the bitch win without a fight. But she had spent six years trying to curb his temper, so she was also proud he hadn't started looking for a bat.

The crowd also murmured unhappily at his offer. Either they didn't want him to go, or they wanted Sheila to do, or they just wanted to see a fight.

"I think," the man said, "we'll let whoever has the best prepared costume will have the right to choose who goes." The crowd cheered, although Sheila looked a bit too pleased with the suggestion. The judge nodded to a woman at the sliding door to the patio.

A witchfinder in dusty travel dress came to stand beside the Baron. Annie was pretty sure she'd seen that face in the English department, but the hairdo made it difficult to be sure.

The woman nodded to the two humans, then fixed her gaze upon Annie. "Little one, how much of The Raven can you recite? Without help from your owner, of course."

Annie smiled and drew herself up straight. She felt Ray's chuckle shake the shoulder she stood upon.

"Tell me when you want me to stop, milady," she said. "Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping…"

No one stopped Annie until the very last line. By then nearly everyone in the room was joining in for the 'Nevermore' line. Cheers sounded from all around.

The judge looked around to Sheila. "Do you have anything prepared?"

"Polly wanna cracker?" the sylph said carefully.

"Is that all?" came from several throats around the party. Sheila glowered.

"Well? What the hell else would he have memorized? There's nothing like that," she spat, pointing at Ray's Raven, "for Polly!"

Annie cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted: "Fifteen men on a dead man's chest, Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!"

"That'd have done it," someone shouted gleefully. But Annie didn't stop.

"Drink and the devil had done for the rest, Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum. The mate was fixed by the bosun's pike, The bosun brained with a marlinspike, And cookey's throat was marked belike, It had been gripped by fingers ten…"

"There's more than two lines to the song?" someone near Ray asked wonderingly. Four people shushed him.

Sheila got very red by the time Annie finished. The shocked crowd hadn't even sung along with the 'yo ho ho' part they'd known since childhood. A few beats after her last line, when they were sure she was done, they cheered again.

Ray lifted her up over his head to take a bow. Sheila fumed but everyone else was clapping.

"I think that's a TKO," the Baron asked the judge. She nodded. He turned to banish the pirate for the evening.

"No!" Annie shouted. "Let her stay! Parties are always better with more people." She paused, scratching her beak. "As long as there are plenty of eyeballs left on the buffet, okay?"

Sheila cursed, cradled Peter to her bosom and stalked out.

"I need a drink," Annie said with an unfeigned croak.

"A well-deserved drink," Ray said, making his way to the mini-bar. He set her down on the counter and made their usual order. The knight smiled and mixed their drink.

Ray slipped her dipper out of his pocket and waited until she'd drunk her fill to take a sip.

"That was very well done," he said, patting her on top of her head.

"It was, wasn't it?" she agreed.

"You didn't really want that bitch to stay, though, did you?"

"Oh. No, but I didn't want her blaming us for having to go." She leaned back on a bowl of nuts and gazed up at him. "I just figured she'd rather chew her own lips off than take charity from me, so I made it her decision, not mine."

"Ah." He shook his head. "All those years I wasted fighting with a bat. You do much worse damage with a smile…"

"Yeah…." she said slowly.

"Cloven fruit?" someone asked. A blonde woman in a burgundy court dress held an apple out to Ray. It was studded about three quarters of the way around with cloves. The other quarter showed empty holes.

"Um… I'm not sure what to do with that," Ray admitted. He glanced at his sylph. She shrugged her feathers.

"I'm passing you the cloven fruit," the woman explained. "I take a clove," and she removed one. She stuck it into her mouth then pursed her lips.

Annie tilted her head and watched as the woman tugged Ray down into a long, slow, deep kiss. It was like watching a Hollywood couple on the big screen.

She remembered kissing Brent. It had been a wonderfully centering experience, the whole world spiraling down to four lips and two tongues. His taste, his movements, the tickle of hair from his mustache, all expanded to fill the moment.

But she wondered if there was something more to the experience when you had the mass these two had. And if the surface tension of saliva made the feeling any different.

And she wondered what it would be like to kiss Ray, full on the lips instead of against one corner of them.

She shook her head as the two broke apart. Ray reached up and removed the clove from his mouth to look at it.

"Mmmm," the courtier smiled. "Now, you offer the fruit to someone else. And pass them a new clove the same way." Annie and her owner both watched the woman drift off.

"What's that like?" she asked as she stood up. Ray's hand was on the table and she picked the clove up. She'd planned on sniffing it but it was covered in spit. She dropped it down into his palm.

"Wow," he said.

"Wow, what?" she asked, looking around the room.

"You asked what it was like," he explained. "Wow."

"Oh," she said. "I guess so." She walked over to where he held the apple and smelled that. "Smell's like Aunt Jeri's kitchen. So. Who are you going to give this to now?"

"I don't really know…" Ray muttered. He held out a palm and Annie climbed aboard. When she was back on her perch she scanned the crowd. A redhead in a Renaissance gown was going outside.

"Patio!" Annie said then grabbed the cloth of the robe. Ray spun around but missed the target. He grunted questioningly but started walking to the sliding door.

A few people raised goblets or smiled at the pair as they passed. Annie bowed carefully or made salutes in return.

Torches in the grass lit up the spacious back yard. The redhead Annie had sighted was at the far end, piling vegetables on a plate.

Ray got within six feet of her then drifted to a stop. Annie punched him on the jaw. "Forward," she hissed in a stage whisper. Red turned.

"Yes?" she asked. "Oh! The Raven. I loved that performance."

"Uh, thanks, but it was all Annie, here," Ray said.

"Squawk and like that there," Annie deadpanned. "Thanks."

"Quite welcome, Annie. You know, at least part of it was the fact that I hate Sheila," the woman said softly.

"I'll keep that secret for you," Ray promised.

"Thank you. Now, can I help you with something?"

"Uh… Well, for the very first time in my life, I find myself with a cloven apple," he said. "And my very smart bird suggested that you were the perfect person to give it to."

"How sweet," she replied. "Does your terribly smart bird know any romantic poems for the occasion?"

Annie snorted as Ray looked horrified. "Oh, gosh, no," he blurted. "For her, Dead Man's Chest _is_ a romantic poem."

"Every Valentine's Day I recite the Tell-tale Heart," she added with a wicked smile.

"Delightful," Red said with an apparently sincere smile on her face. Annie's heart warmed to the woman. "Well. Then I suppose I will be happy to accept the fruit without a sonnet in accompaniment." She put her plate down and turned an expectant face up to Ray.

"Take a clove," Annie said in another stage whisper. He complied. She nudged his ear and he took it in his mouth, then stepped closer to the woman.

The kiss was as long and deep as with the blonde. Annie hung onto his collar and waited it out. When they finished, he handed over the apple.

"Nice," she said. She tossed the fruit from hand to hand, looking him over. "Why don't you find a place to sit down? I'll get rid of this, then we'll…talk."

"I'd like that," he said. He watched her walk off. Annie tugged his earlobe in the direction of the buffet behind them.

"Annie gotta eat," she said. He poked a finger towards her and she climbed upon it to perch. He swept her along the food then returned her to his shoulder. As he loaded a plate of his own, she made sure it included her selections.

Then he found a bench with room for two and sat down. Annie accepted a grape, pushed the beak to the back of her head and started eating.

"Any idea what her name was?" she asked. Ray stopped moving. "Catatonic in six words," she said cheerfully. "That's an up-check for today."

Red came back a minute later. She picked up a few more bites and joined them on the bench.

Names were exchanged, as were compliments about character and costume. Annie crawled down to Ray's lap and to the plate. The half-eaten grape was exchanged for some chicken.

She sat on the edge of the plate, using a toothpick to draw patterns in a dollop of ketchup. She was about to start painting ketchup stick figures on his robe when the humans' conversation caught her attention.

"…but Annie doesn't want to be a Leprechaun," Ray was saying.

"Oh, is that all?" Nora said. "That's not a rule, it's just a suggestion. Anything that isn't historically impossible, or makes a positive claim on magic, pagan gods or time travel is alright. The Raven works nicely."

"But squawking hurts my throat," Annie said. "I don't want to do that forever."

"I understand," Nora nodded. "Hey, let me go ask my dad if he can think of anything." She hopped up and trotted off through the party again.

"Oh, that's smooth," Annie said. "Hitting on a girl whose father's also at the party."

"Uh, yeah," he said slowly.

To Ray's horror, she came back arm in arm with the Baron. The man greeted the two, congratulating Annie yet again on her oration.

She bowed, Ray stammered a response. The Baron laughed heartily. "Oh, she called me Dad, didn't she?" He wrapped an arm around Ray's shoulders. "Her society character is the daughter of mine. We're no more closely related than I am to the King!"

Annie wrestled her way of the hood where she'd ducked to avoid the shoulder-hug. "Oh. And I was hoping to see him strung up for poaching."

Everyone but Ray laughed. Baron Festifal offered a hand and Annie stepped into it daintily. "No, no, my little songbird. I'll not allow just anyone to marry her character and challenge the Barony's succession, but out of character she can do whatever, and whoever, she wishes. As long as it doesn't violate any rules of the Department we belong to.

"Now, I was wondering what you two might enjoy in the way of historical characters of your own. Did I hear that you're an engineer, Ray?"

"Uh, yeah. Software engineer. Computer sciences. LAN installation and maintenance."

"Uh huh." Festifal pet Annie and thought for a moment, then handed her back. "So, you know who Pythagoras was, right?"

"Mostly," Ray said slowly.

"Did you know Pythagoras was a ventriloquist?" Ray and Annie both shook their heads. "He used to scare the shit out of his students by talking with a river. The river's voice was about what you'd expect if someone was 'throwing' their voice some distance away.

"If you're not bound and determined to be a druid, maybe you could be a Greek philosopher?"

"I'm not much of a philosophy student," Ray admitted.

"Pish tosh," the Baron said. "I am, and there's really nothing to it. Philosophy is the intellectual part of any human endeavor. If you think about the best way to dig a ditch, you have a ditch digging philosophy.

"Now," he said, raising one finger, "many people think philosophy is restricted to those questions that can only be addressed as philosophical ones."

"How many angels," Nora said, "can dance on the head of a pin."

"How many roads need a man walk down," Festifal replied.

"Where does the white go when snow melts," Annie suggested.

"Exactly. I think you have a wonderful asset, here, in little Annie. You pretend to be throwing your voice when she just talks. You can use this costume, or," he pointed at the staff, "make her look like a doll, or any other animal. Even a statue."

"Wow. Well, we'll think about that, sure." The Baron nodded, bowed to Ray, bowed deeper to Annie, and strode off calling for 'Mead, for the love of the gods, I feel the need, the need for my mead!'

Nora stepped closer to Ray and took his arm. He hesitated before sitting back down with her. "Department?"

"Yeah," Nora explained. "We both teach Humanities out at the university. He's kinda my boss. Why?"

"I'm, uh, a student at the university," Ray admitted.

"Oh," she said. "Well. Um. I guess I'll see you around." She took her plate and walked away.

"Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude," Annie said sympathetically.

Ray stayed in the back yard for most of the rest of the party. A few people engaged in conversation, the TA that invited him swung through, and Annie demanded a trip to the little sylph's room.

The party ended with an interesting demonstration. An Indian man dressed as a Highlander played the bagpipe as musical accompaniment for a very tall black women's belly dancing act. The pair were quite accomplished and drew a standing ovation and three patio-calls.

"You know," Annie said as the party broke up, "for all that the bagpipe ALWAYS sounds like an accident, that wasn't too bad."

"No, it wasn't," Ray agreed.

"Thank you," a voice said. He turned and found the belly dancer bearing down on them. The large woman was like a force of nature as she swept up on Ray. She handed him the cloven apple and lifted his face up to hers for a kiss.

Annie stared from his shoulder. She was half afraid that the woman was actually devouring her owner. But he'd probably have put up a fight if his flesh was actually being rendered, she thought.

Her arms started to caress his back. He moaned. Annie jumped for the hood once more. After a long moment she heard them talking.

"I've had an eye on you all night, mister," the woman said.

"Um, thanks?" Ray said.

"I hope you're going to join our little group."

"Thinking hard about it," he assured her. There was a chuckle and then silence.

She started to climb back to the shoulder. Ray reached back and lifted her up. She found that he was sitting on a bench again. He lowered her to his knee. On the other knee he held the fruit. She didn't see any cloves.

"Aw," she said. "No more kissing?"

"One more," he said, briefly sticking out his tongue to show the clove resting on it.

She looked around the yard. The last two partiers were going down the driveway to their cars. "Too bad," she said. "Everyone's-"

Annie squeaked as Ray lifted her up into the air. He turned her to face him and held her there. She looked into his eyes and tried to figure out what she saw in them.

"Milady," he said. "Bard and friend, heroine of the party and active conscience, could I have a kiss?"

"Um….okay," she said after a moment. He shifted his hand, moving her from being held by him to standing on his open palm.

He lifted her to his lips and pursed them. She leaned in and kissed at the line between upper and lower lip. Her tongue slipped out and she licked along one crease.

The very tip of his tongue showed. She touched it with hers. The whole world went away, except for the kiss. It was like reality existed only as a line between her brain and the point where their mouths touched.

She spread her arms and hugged as much of his face as she could reach. His nostrils flared above her as he took in her scent and sighed.

He let her break it off. She pulled her face back and smiled up at his eyes. The lips moved under her forearm and the clove peeped into view. She pulled it out and held it like a lollipop, licking the tip.

Ray blinked and smiled down on her. She smiled back, then sat down, curling up in his hand. "Let's go home," she said.

"Of course," he replied

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