Chapter 5: Gift For Julie
The next few weeks kept Elliot in a state of perpetual motion because his time was consumed by an ever increasing workload concerning school due to upcoming midterm exams as well as his endeavors to familiarize Rosewielder with the ways of the world, explaining to her the ins and outs of politics, popular media, and gaming culture. Spending much of her time in Elliot's room, absorbing up the things on daytime TV like a dry sponge in water, it seemed inevitable that she'd find herself pondering modern comedies which often left her scratching her head. The pair had even took to performing infrequent neighborhood drives after Elliot had managed to normalize her appearance by placing sun glasses over her violet eyes, dressing her in casual woman's garments, and ensuring that her ears, which were pointed, were always hidden under her long hair which he'd told her to claim was dyed whenever inquired about by fellow neighborhood inhabitants. The rare times that he set aside to play Fantasy Lotus were marked by intrigued interrogations from his fellow gamers, wondering about the steep decline in his gaming time and reduced duration of each session. Elliot's work did not end when he was asleep as he habitually practiced lucid dreaming whenever he could, promising himself to cease creating more objects until he was certain he wouldn't accidentally come back with something he wasn't intending to. The night finally came when he was prepared to dream up another spirit. It was the night before the day he promised to visit Julie at her residence, excited about her intense desire to sculpt him.
"Taste the tip of my sword, you amateurs!" said Rosewielder, excitedly and rapidly pushing the buttons on his PC6 controller as she stared unblinkingly at the television screen.
"Rosewielder, keep it down, please," said Elliot before yawning. "Some of us have to go to school tomorrow."
"I will. I will," she said nonchalantly, her eyes still pressed to the screen.
"Okay, tonight is the night. I must reach lucidity," said Elliot, attempting to clear his mind, beginning to count sheep.
"One.. two..," he started. "One-hundred and one…One-hundred and two," he said sometime later before losing consciousness.
Elliot opened his eyes, gazing around at his surroundings and found himself in a majestic woodland accompanied with extremely tall trees, leaves of many colors which lay on the floor of the sublime forest, sunlight aesthetically illuminating them. He looked up at the azure sky, its view partially blocked by the massive flora.
"This place seems awfully familiar," he said aloud to himself, starting to walk forward, not really knowing where he was headed, the crunching of the leaves betraying his presence. "Wait, of course. I remember seeing this forest while mom, dad, Faiga, and I were visiting mom's late uncle, Great Uncle Baum, in Germany. It was during a picnic that I wandered off and became lost, and Great Uncle Baum found me and brought me back to mom and dad."
"That, he did, Elliot, his great nephew," echoed a voice from behind him.
The crunching of the leaves stopped abruptly as Elliot slowly turned his head and saw a balding older man with bright blue eyes and a beard as white as snow. He wore a thick light green coat and dark pants which were tucked into brownish leather boots. He was standing with his arms folded behind his back.
"Great Uncle Baum?" said Elliot, trying his hardest to remain calm. "Aren't you…dead?"
"Yes and no," said the man, coming closer to Elliot.
"I'm afraid I don't understand," said Elliot.
"Are you sure?" he asked kindly, smiling. "We are inside your dream."
Elliot thought for a moment before responding.
"You are what I imagined my great uncle to be?" said Elliot questioningly.
"Correct."
"But you're not the man I knew?" he asked.
"Oh, I'm exactly the man you knew," said the man, stopping a couple feet away from him.
"Then you are my imagination's recreation of my Great Uncle Baum but you aren't the Great Uncle Baum that I know to be dead," said Elliot.
"Exactly," said the man, taking his hands from behind his back and clapping. "Why did you come here, Elliot?" he asked politely.
"I wanted to bring something from this world into the real world. It's a gift for a girl," said Elliot.
"Ah, Julie," she's a nice girl. Good job, Elliot, my boy."
"How did you-," he began but stopped. "That's right. This whole world is my subconscious."
"That is correct," said the man. "What is it that you wanted to take from this world?"
"You already know though," said Elliot.
"I do."
"I wanted to use this world to create a cat identical to the one Julie lost," admitted Elliot. "Julie's had a lot of loss in her life and this is just a small way to help her out."
Great Uncle Baum's face suddenly became saddened.
"Why do you suppose I made you distinguish between your Great Uncle Baum and myself?" he asked.
"It's because what I bring back will be a spirit based on how I imagined Mr. Winslow, not the original."
"Exactly. You cannot bring back the dead, Elliot."
"You're right. I know that. However, I want to prove to Julie that the things we love can find their way back to us even if it's not in a way we'd expect," said Elliot. "Should I do it?"
"Would your Great Uncle Baum approve?"
"I don't think so," said Elliot.
"There's my answer."
"I respect my great uncle. I really do, but I must choose my own path," said Elliot with resolve.
"I understand. Although I do not approve, I offer you my good luck. If you shall ever need me again then merely dream up another me.
"So, this you will cease to exist…forever?" asked Elliot.
"Oh, yes. We, dream characters, really don't have long. After the dreamer awakens that's the end of us."
"But you said another you? What do you mean?"
"When you, the dreamer, awaken, this world and everything in it is reabsorbed back into your consciousness. If we meet again, it will be a reincarnated version of me."
"I understand, Great Uncle Baum. However, I must go and fulfill my duty," said Elliot before turning his back.
When he looked back he saw no one there and, so, using his dream powers, he levitated off the forest floor and flew out into the sky above, seeing the beautiful virescent landscape below as he scanned for any movement, eventually locating a four legged creature swiftly running across the landscape. Elliot flew down towards the beast and discovered a ferocious looking tiger with one green and one blue eye roaring aggressively at him. It immediately charged towards Elliot who merely focused on the creature, imagining it shrinking and, sure enough, the once massive tiger gradually began diminishing until it was the size of a house cat, its previously monumental roar reduced to a meow. Elliot quickly ran over to the cat and placed his arms around it.
"Awake now!" he roared excitedly, causing the dreamscape to waste away, and after feeling the familiar falling sensation, he found himself back in his room, lying on the floor with his sleeping bag, the cat still clutched beneath his arms.
He let go of the cat which began purring, rubbing its head against his knee, and looked over at his his alarm clock which read 6:00 a.m. He pinched himself just to be sure he wasn't dreaming and felt the pain. Elliot glanced around the room and saw that Rosewielder was snugged comfortably in his bed.
"Yes, I've done it again," he said aloud, gently petting the cats head.
My abilities have improved, and soon I will use them to balance this world by putting treasure into the hands of the needy.
Elliot lay awake on his sleeping bag, allowing the cat to playfully nudge at his side, basking in the glory of his own genius until the alarm clock rang, signaling that it was time for him to get up. A stirring in is bed told him that Rosewielder had awakened and he eagerly awaited her reaction as she vibrantly slipped off his bed, still in a pair of pink pajamas. She walked around to the foot of the bed
were Elliot sat.
"Good morning, Elliot," she said. "I -," she started, falling silent, as her alluring eyes fell squarely on the cat. "Elliot, that is a cat, is it not?"
"Yeah, it is," he said, finally standing up and cracking his neck, the cat still bumping his legs.
"Well, wherever did it come from?"
"My dreams."
Rosewielder frowned.
"Is it like me, a spirit?" she asked, concernedly.
"Yes. Do you like it?" he asked as Rosewielder walked closer and bent down, studying the cat which then turned its attention to Rosewielder.
"Elliot, why did you bring this cat here? Please tell me the purpose."
"I created it as a gift to someone from school," he answered. "She lost her old cat."
"Elliot, spirits are living beings. I'm sure that this cat, like me, has a sense of individuality. We aren't meant to replace anyone," said Rosewielder harshly, tenderly petting the cat on its head.
"I know that, Rosewielder. But I truly think this could make her happy."
"Her?" Who is she to you? Is it Faiga, your sister?"
"No, it's someone who's experienced a lot of loss. Her name's Julie and she lost both her parents and her brother. Then she lost her pet. I thought the least I could do is to provide some happiness in her life."
"I know a thing or two about loss," said Rosewielder, standing to her feet. "When you first brought me into this world I felt like I lost everyone I cared about. However, I know now that I must accept that they do not exist."
"Rosewielder, the people you think you lost are still inside you, and, as Julie's granny would say, in your heart."
"Is that so?" she asked curiously.
"Yes, deep inside you, in your heart and soul, your father exists. Your love for him is just as strong as your hatred for Prince Adam and Lilith. In your dreams they were as real as I was, weren't they?"
"Yes, they were."
"I have to get ready for school now, Rosewielder," said Elliot, looking at the alarm clock which now said 6:20 a.m.
"Wait, Elliot," she said before placing her hand delicately on his shoulder.
"Rosewielder?" said Elliot, puzzled before noticing an unusual expression on her face, her traditionally snowy white skin now redder than he'd ever seen it.
Elliot then felt a miraculous warmth penetrate to his very soul as Rosewielder's arms closed tightly around him.
"I-I finally think I forgive you. But it's not for the reason I thought it would be," she said in a soft voice.
"You forgive me? Why? Have you learned to call this place your home?" asked Elliot.
"No, I haven't. Not yet, at least. I forgive you because I realized that no place would be home without you. I wouldn't be satisfied in a world without you now that I know of you."
Elliot placed his arms around Rosewielder. Her sublimely silky skin was smoother than a baby's bottom, finer and purer than anything he'd ever felt. Their faces came so close that he felt her intoxicating breath upon his face, its affect nothing short of magical, and, in that moment, he lost all his inhibition as he brought his lips to hers. An otherworldly intangible force, seemingly composed of light and accompanied by a warm breeze, encircled them both, their hair dancing harmoniously in the wind. The sensation was euphoric. Neither of the two were keeping track of time, so when a knock on Elliot's bedroom door suddenly sounded, they finally released each other.
"Elliot, are you okay? You missed breakfast." said Mrs. Clementine's voice.
"I'm fine, mom. I just overslept. I'll be down there in a sec."
After a quick shower, carefully placing the cat in his backpack, and saying goodbye to Rosewielder, he dashed down the stairs, drunk a small glass of milk and was off to school.
The school day was particularly stressful as it was close to midterms, and the faculty made it their duty to grind it into the student's skulls that their performances on their pop quizzes were good indicators of how they'd fare for midterm. In his AP calculus class Mr. Fujita gave them timed quizzes, Elliot luckily receiving extra credit for having finished before any of his peers several times in a row.
"Practice everyone," he said as they were dismissed.
Even Ms. Ivanova, who was normally more easy going, passed out sheet after sheet of practice exercises that required them to accurately distinguish all of the symbols of the kanji alphabet and perform story writing workshops using them. After filling out three whole pages of his notebook with study notes and being called on two separate occasions to recite Japanese popular nursery rhymes, Elliot found himself exultant as the bell rang, but not before they were told by their teacher that they'd have two quizzes the following class. He left and attended his final two classes for that day, detecting the familiar vibe of anxiety and distress in his classmates. The story was very much the same as it had been in his previous classes with many of his peers edgily asking Mr. Stewart to clarify all the parts of the major body systems and their functions. Elliot ultimately breathed a sigh of relief after performing a total of three lengthy classical music pieces before the bell heroically rung, signaling their freedom.
He'd survived school and was reaping his reward, ardently walking down the hall to the art club, his hair in impeccable condition, his previously ironed school uniform looking better than usual as Elliot would be letting Julie sculpt him today. After he'd pushed open the doors, he instinctively looked over to the same table he'd seen Julie sitting when he first visited. He'd long learned that Julie always set at this particular, usually uncrowded, table.
"Hello, Julie," said Elliot brightly.
"Hey. How are you doing?"
She stood to her feet, running her fingers through her large front bangs, her eyes giving him their undivided attention.
"Do you want to ride in my car?" asked Elliot as the pair began walking out of the art room.
"Wow, of course. It's so cool that you have a car. I always have to take the bus," said Julie, fiddling with the straps on her backpack.
"Yeah, I bet that can be hard sometimes," said Elliot as they approached the front doors to the school.
"No kidding. The other students can be a bit…rowdy," said Julie.
"Tell me about it. I use to have problems with this jerk in gym class."
"I dislike meatheads," she said in disgust as they approached Elliot's car. "I don't often pay that much attention to rumor mills but people are saying that you really lifted a lot of weight in PE class not to long ago."
"I'm more powerful than I look. What more can I say?" said Elliot, opening the door for Julie.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Elliot placed his and Julie's book bags in the back seat, glancing at a blanket which stirred atop a large white pillow, before turning on the ignition. After backing out of the space, carefully steering around fellow students leaving school, they were off.
"So, how long have you been sculpting?" he asked, his eyes on the road.
"Oh, for about two years," she answered. "Well, specifically, ever since my parents and brother died. Expressing my emotions through art really helps a lot."
"I bet it does. It's always nice to find things you're passionate about," he said, making a right hand turn down a street called Pleasant Avenue.
"So what-," started Julie before stopping, making a spitting sound.
"What's wrong?" asked Elliot, entering a neighborhood called Wisteria Springs.
"Nothing, I just got this piece of pink hair stuck in my mouth," answered Julie.
"I'm sorry about that. I sometimes drive my sister to school," said Elliot.
"It's okay," said Julie.
They used the better half of the ride to discuss many things school related, explaining their opinions regarding the school's various sports teams as well as their disappointment with the modifications to the school dress code requiring them to wear uniforms. Ell
iot let Julie choose the music station, leaving his ears displeased as they endured several rounds of punk rock.
"Oh, it's that house right there," said Julie after about seven minutes. "The one that says 3870."
"I see it," said Elliot, driving into a driveway accompanied by a medium sized brick house with four large front windows and a glass screen door.
As the two got out, Elliot noticed that the front grass looked unkept with some of it reaching more than half his height while three large purple flowery bushes in front of the house grew sloppily nearby.
"I'll carry your backpack," said Elliot, trying to buy time.
"That's sweet of you," said Julie, walking down a path of faded bricks towards the house.
Elliot removed a blanket with brown and white stripes which sat atop a moving object and saw the orange tabby cat, still lying on the pillow, looking comfortably up at him.
"That's a good boy. You kept quiet all the way here," said Elliot, gently nudging its chin before quickly placing it in his backpack, making sure that Julie did not see him as she placed her keys in the door.
They went up a small flight of steps, and he followed Julie inside once she unlocked the door. The house's interior was extraordinarily eccentric with weird silverfish half-moon and star shaped objects hanging from a wooden wall rack beside the front door. The floor was carpeted with a design depicting a spectacle of odd symbols and shapes Elliot had never seen while the portraits of at least ten people decorated the crimson walls.
"This is home," said Julie with a touch of embarrassment.
"It's…intriguing," said Elliot as Julie closed the door.
"Follow me please, Elliot."
Julie led Elliot into what appeared to be a living room with a large wooden chair in the left corner, a vintage looking television which sat atop a marble mantle in the middle, an ancient grayish couch, and a small finely polished wooden table about eight feet in front of the television. A large picture frame depicting what looked like a family portrait occupied the right corner of the room, oddly isolated. On each side, the walls were obscured by enormous bookshelves filled with books that mostly had the same black binding and golden letters.
"Granny's not here right now. She went out to the store but just make yourself at home," said Julie.
"Okay. Here you go," he said, handing her back her backpack."
"Thanks. I'm going to go get us something to drink. Do you like lemonade?" she asked.
"Sure."
"Just sit tight. I'll be right back," said Julie, placing her backpack beside the couch and exiting into an adjacent hallway.
Elliot plopped down on the couch and quickly began coughing as he inhaled what seemed like lint. He opened up his backpack and began running his fingers through the cat's soft fur. When he heard footsteps a couple minutes later, suggesting that Julie returned, he zipped his backpack up, taking care to leave it partially opened.
"Here you go," she said, handing him a large glass of lemonade with a straw.
"Thanks," he said, taking a sip.
"My pleasure," said Julie, sitting down on the couch beside him.
"Um, Julie," he said. "I brought you a gift."
"Wow! That's so sweet of you!" she said excitedly, placing her glass on the table. "What did you get me?"
"You have to close your eyes," said Elliot sportively.
"Okay," said Julie, obeying.
Elliot removed the cat from his backpack, holding it up in between his arms. He took a deep breath.
"You can open your eyes now."
"Julie opened her eyes but, within seconds, Elliot knew something was wrong as her previously smiling face rapidly diminished into a look of shock.
"Elliot, where did you get this cat from?" she asked her tone, dead serious.
"Why do you ask?" he inquired heedfully.
She studied Elliot momentarily, a look of deep thought on her face, but reached for the cat, taking it from him, and studying it.
"I'm afraid I cannot tell you that until you first answer my question," said Julie, her voice, stern.
Elliot racked his brain for some sort of fabrication he could think of before saying, "I bought it from a pet store up in San Madre. Why?"
"Exactly who did you get this cat from?" she asked, pointedly.
"Some old guy. Why? I thought I'd get him because he looked like Mr. Winslow."
"And he actually sold this cat to you?" asked Julie, aghast. "What was he thinking?!"
"I don't understand. Should he not have sold me the cat or something?"
"No, he shouldn't have."
Elliot scratched his head, carefully preparing his next words. "Julie, I'm sorry. I should have chosen a different cat that didn't look like the one you lost," said Elliot. "It was wrong and insensitive of me."
"That's not it."
"What?"
"The problem isn't how the cat looks, Elliot. It's just that I can't believe whoever sold you this cat was so reckless. It's not your fault."
"Julie, I'm afraid I don't follow. What's the big deal? Is there something wrong with it? I can take it back to the store if you don't like it."
"No, I will be keeping this cat. I'm just glad whoever sold it to you didn't disclose its true origins," said Julie, cradling the cat.
"What do you mean by true origins?" asked Elliot.
"If everything you told me is accurate and the seller didn't tell you anything then you don't need to know," said Julie. "It's no longer your problem. It's mine but I advise you to never buy from that seller again."
"Wait, Julie. I don't want the cat to be a burden to you," said Elliot slowly. "I wanted it to make you happy." He sighed. "The truth is that I didn't buy the cat from anyone."
Julie's face went white, her eyes widening, as she looked intently at Elliot and took a seat next to him so that her face was very close to his.
"You need to tell me the truth, Elliot. It's more important than you'll probably ever know. Where did this cat come from?"
"It came from my dreams," said Elliot. "I think it's what some people call a spirit."
"Yes, it is."
"What!? You know about spirits!?" asked Elliot, flabbergasted.
"Yes, I do. My granny is a mystic and has the ability to summon spirits," explained Julie. "I have no idea how you were able to summon a spirit using your dreams, however."
"I don't know either. It just happened," said Elliot.
"You are a rarity, Elliot. Normally, only people adept at the mystic arts can summon spirits. There aren't that many conjurers."
"So, there are others who can summon spirits?!" asked Elliot, exultantly.
"Yes, there are. However, I've never heard of them using their dreams to summon one."
"Julie, how did you know that this cat was a spirit?"
"Because it has an otherworldly aura."
"What the heck is that?" asked Elliot.
Julie's face suddenly went stone faced.
"So, you're telling me that you've conjured a spirit and you don't even know how they're made?"
"I always thought they just came out of my dreams," said Elliot, at a loss.
Julie shook her head, placing the cat on the couch, and stood to her feet.
"Please follow me."
Julie led Elliot out of the living room, through a narrow hall decorated with paintings of different flower species before they entered into a room lined with shelves occupied by many well crafted sculptures including Native Americans in traditional clothing, nude art of both males and female forms, as well as many head busts. In the middle of the room sat an inexpensive looking table covered with newspaper with a metal frame bolted down into a large block of wood, and large slabs of grayish pottery clay. There were also two chairs.
"Please take that chair," said Julie, pointing to a chair about five feet from the table while she took a seat at the tab
le, and began using a thin wire to cut the clay into even smaller pieces.
Elliot sat down in the chair and looked curiously over at Julie.
"Elliot, are you comfortable?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Good. Please stay still then. I will begin sculpting you."
"Okay," answered Elliot as Julie began placing small amounts of clay on the metal frame.
"Elliot, how do you think I will sculpt you?" she asked, still mashing the clay with her palms.
"I'd assume that you'd study me first because I'm the subject matter," he answered.
"Exactly. I'll focus on you in the same way that a conjurer focuses on the image of the spirit they wish to summon."
"I understand. You're saying a conjurer is someone who summons a spirit?"
"Correct. You are a conjurer even though you aren't a mystic," said Julie. "But after I have a clear image of you in my head what is it that I need?"
"Well, I guess you do need some clay and-," said Elliot before Julie abruptly interrupted him.
"Exactly. A conjurer needs a medium just like a sculptor does," said Julie, beginning to hold up a ruler and closing one eye, studying him. "I buy this clay from an art store but where do you think conjurers get their medium from?"
Elliot thought for a couple moments.
"Are you implying it's from the otherworld or whatever it's called?" he asked.
"Yes, you're as clever as you are handsome," said Julie, her hands prodding and poking at the clay bust. "What is it about this clay that allows me to sculpt you?"
"Well, it's very soft and malleable."
"Yes, it's malleable. Do you see what I'm getting at?"
"So, you're saying that the otherworld is malleable?"
"Bingo. However, the otherworld is even more malleable than this clay. That is what allows conjurers to summon spirits with focus and meditation. Non-conjurers cannot access the otherworld. Conjurers don't actually create spirits. They merely act as a bridge between our world and the otherworld. The conjuring process allows spirits to enter into our world, but, in exchange for their passage, the conjurer can decide whatever form they wish the spirit to take. Well, that's how granny explains it."
"If that's true then the spirits and spirit items that I summon don't come from my dreams but from the otherworld. Is that what you're telling me?"
"You're half right. Conjurers control the form and identity that a spirit takes but the material that makes spirits and spirit objects resides in the otherworld," explained Julie. "That is why spirits and spirit objects can have supernatural powers not seen in our world."
"I think I get it. So, conjurers just shape material from the otherworld with their imaginations. Is that about right?"
"Yes. Throughout the centuries ancient conjurers summoned spirits to maintain peace and order in this world. In places such as Greece and Egypt these spirits were known as gods by those whom they ruled over. Their purpose was often to prevent warfare amongst humans. However, some spirits came to believe themselves as superior to humans. The Greek and Egyptian god spirits rebelled against their conjurers, defeating them, and ruled their subjects for many centuries until they were finally vanquished during the Great Conjurer-Spirit war," explained Julie.
"Conjurers can summon…gods?" asked Elliot in disbelief.
"No, not alone," said Julie. "All humans have auras. Plants and animals do too. Conjurers simply have stronger auras. However, no conjurer can summon a true god by themselves. Gods are summoned when a conjurer draws energy from the auras of many people like those who worship. It's a particularly dangerous practice because bad auras from humans can contaminate the otherworld. Mystics take oaths to only summon benevolent spirits but unskilled conjurers can bring evil spirits here unintentionally. That's why lone conjurers like you should tread lightly or the Mystic Council of Conjurers will surely be after you and any spirits you've summoned."
"What exactly is this council?" asked Elliot, his interest surging.
"It's an alliance of some of the most powerful mystic conjurers and spirits. Their duty is to ensure that the otherworld is not polluted with the negative auras of conjurers who may abuse their powers. They also wish to ensure that our world does not fall into the hands of malevolent spirits."
"Well, then that's excellent. How do I contact them?" he asked.
"You don't. They contact you," said Julie, using an embossing tool to create nostrils on the bust. "Elliot, was that giant stinkbug spirit your work?"
"Yes, it was, but that was an accident."
"That's even worse. Accidentally summoning spirits means that you could be contaminating the otherworld and this world without even knowing it," she said. "Was this stinkbug something from your dreams?"
"Yes, it was."
"So, you're saying that you can't control what you take out of your dreams?" asked Julie, worriedly.
"That was before I learned to really master lucid dreaming," said Elliot. "When I'm lucid I have total control and I can summon things like that cat."
"You don't get it. You think you have control of your imagination but your mind is as malleable as this clay. What if you have a bad day at school? What if someone makes you angry? These emotions can affect your dreams," explained Julie. "I hope the council contacts you and teaches you how to safely tap into the otherworld or something wicked could be born from your dreams."
"You don't think I can do it?" said Elliot, slightly offended.
"I would really like to believe in you, Elliot. I really would, but it only takes one slip up to cause a catastrophe. Especially, when it comes to conjuring spirits," said Julie uneasily, using a tipped toil to indent lines in the back of the sculpture which would ultimately become the hair.
"I promise that you have nothing to worry about, Julie. The world will see," said Elliot adamantly.
"Just be careful."
"I will."
Julie continued sculpting Elliot for a good thirty more minuets, the pair using the remainder of the time to chat about far less serious subjects such as their distaste for the school lunch, the projected longevity of the pleasant weather, and, as always, exams.
"Well, Elliot, I think that we're about done for today," Julie finally said.
Elliot stood to his feet, stretching after having to remain still for so long.
"Here, take a look. Tell me what you think," she said, turning the head bust around.
"Wow, Julie, I'm impressed. You weren't kidding about your sculpting talents," said Elliot genuinely as he studied a grayish incomplete yet aesthetic clay version of his own face.
"It feels like it can see through me. It's the eyes, you know," said Elliot.
"I agree. It's difficult to create realistic eyes in clay but I'll gradually add more detail," said Julie. "When do you want to come back?"
"Would the same day next week be okay?" suggested Elliot. "I'm kind of busy with school and everything."
"No, I understand. I'm pretty occupied with school as well. Next Tuesday sounds nice."
Elliot and Julie made their ways through the hall and towards the front door, and after Elliot retrieved his backpack and gave the cat a final farewell petting on its head, he turned to Julie.
"Oh, by the way, what are you going to name him?" he asked, opening the front door.
"Mr. Winslow Jr."
"I like it."
The pair said their goodbyes and Elliot hopped in his corvette and drove out of Wisteria Springs, eventually returning home. After making his way inside he saw that both Mr. and Mrs. Clementine were home from work, the dining room table already adorned with the formal place settings.
"Ah, how was your day, son?" asked his father as Elliot took a chair at the dinner table.
"Busy. Our teachers are really drilling us at school. It's because of midterms," explained Elliot as Faiga jumped off the couch and also took a seat at the table.
"You can't escape work. Not in this world," said Mr. Clementine with a sigh. "So many surgeries scheduled and so little time."
"Everything will be alright, dear," said Mrs. Clementine, finally joining her family at the table.
The Clementines dined and continued discussing the mundane things of life, Faiga talking almost nonstop about how her class was scheduled for a school field trip to the Fallwood History Museum in order to learn how people lived in the 1700s.
"They didn't even have indoor plumbing. Can you believe that?" asked Faiga in disbelief before devouring the last morsel of her green beans.
"Yes, time changes a lot of things, sweetie," said Mrs. Clementine, running her hands through her daughter's hair.
Elliot was twirling his chopsticks at a particularly long bunch of noodles, absentmindedly watching it coil around his utensils, having tuned out the voices of his family. He reflected on the monumental task he had before him.
Is tonight the night? Should I ask Rosewielder to join me on my mission to make a difference in this world? She can teleport, after all. I wonder what other abilities she has. Will she take a place by my side? Will she be the the first follower of the dream savior?
It was only at the mentioning of a certain person's name that his attention was caught by his father.
"Grandma Wu's condition is deteriorating even further," said Mr. Clementine somberly. "Even brother Chen is finding it difficult to communicate affectively with her."
"I'm so sorry, dear," said his mother, resting her hand on his father's.
No, that cannot happen. I will save my grandmother from that cursed disease. I will save everyone I can using my powers.
"Elliot, honey? Are you okay?" asked his mother after he'd gotten to his feet.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I'd just like to finish this in my room. I have a report for school to complete," he answered, scooping up a helping of green beans.
"That's fine, honey," she said, giving him a concerned look.
Elliot exited the table and traveled up the stairs, opened the door, locking it behind him.
"How kind of you, Elliot. You've brought more delicious food for me," said Rosewielder, quickly walking over to him.
"You know I couldn't forget you," said Elliot, going to his desk.
Rosewielder hastily picked up a pair of chopsticks from the plate and hungrily dipped them into a large bowl of spicy noodles.
"Rosewielder, something's been on my mind recently," said Elliot.
"What is it, Elliot?" she asked, before slurping up a thick string of noodles.
"Would you like to help me help the people of this world?" he asked, studying her as she began picking up several green beans.
"Yes, I would, Elliot. This world is still foreign to me but I wish to help you," she said dutifully. "If this is where I must live then I should make it the best place that it can be."
"We will call ourselves the dream saviors," said Elliot proudly. "During the week I will conjure more spirit items from my dreams and we will give them as gifts to those who need them on the weekends."
Elliot stood to his feet. Rosewielder looked at him curiously, her mouth slightly open, before setting the plate on his desk.
"Please stand, Rosewielder."
Rosewielder stood up.
"Please refer to me as Grandmaster Swordsman when we are out performing our duties as dream saviors."
"I will," she said.
"What would you like me to call you?"
Rosewielder placed her fingers on her chin, her lovely eyes pointing upwards as she thought for several moments, before looking at Elliot and blessing him with a smile so divinely bright that it stole the sun's grand glory.
"Fair Elf Princess."