Placide the Paralangua: Part Two (special preview)

The first Festival of Ash you could remember attending, was the one where you were taken to see if you’d be one of the chosen. At the time, your town was small and there weren’t very many kids your age. It had been very likely at the time you were going to be chosen. The ceremony progressed as normal, but you weren’t selected..

All your friends had been chosen, and they talked about it all the time. You smiled and nodded along, congratulating them on how lucky they were. But of course, you were lucky too. You could date anyone you wanted. Sure. You could. Time went by, and by your twenty-first birthday you had placed yourself on the other side of the world, away from home, and away from the Festival of Ash that year, the year your friends would no longer be chosen, and instead be with their paralangua in the labyrinth.

It didn’t bother you, you could date whoever you wanted. It really didn’t bother you.

What did bother you was that your hair looked greasy and awful, but Adele had warned you about washing your hair while you had that injury at the back of your head.

“Oh sure, I have to injure myself like this.” You fussed with your hair, trying to style it one way and then another. But absolutely nothing looked good to you.

You tapped your forehead where Placide had kissed you. “Don’t get your hopes up. That never works out.” You put on an old, favorite beanie to cover the greasy hair as well as put extra protection around the bump growing from the back of your head.

“Just act cool. You can do that at least.” You strolled out into your living room and sat down upon the sofa. “Nonchalant. Casual. Cool,” you repeated the words to yourself. You picked up the remote to turn the TV on. But then the panic set in of having to select something to watch, so if Placide came at that moment, you could have one something interesting. Whatever you had on would be a reflection of yourself, an intimate peek into your daily life, the way your mind worked.

True crime documenar? No. Too creepy.

Something based on Jane Austen? No. Too desperate.

Maybe a video game walk through? No! Too corny.

Music? No! Your music is weird!

There was a knock on the door and you placed your remote down gently. No harm, no foul. You got up and went to the door, peeking on your video doorbell who was there. It was Placide, dressed in a very dapper wool coat and carrying a bag in each hand.

“Crap he looks nice. And I look like an off the hours goth girl.” You calmed yourself. It didn’t matter. This was going to be a nice visit.

You opened the door and smiled. “Welcome! Glad you found the place okay.”

Placide stepped in and you offered to take one of the bags. “You have a beautiful house. I was surprised.”

You furrowed your brow. “You were?”

“I mean-” Placide cleared his throat. “I was expecting something much smaller. You sai you lived alone, right?”

“This is my family’s ancient stomping grounds. I inherited it from my grandmother. The kitchen is this way.” You led him down the hall. “During the wedding season I rent it out for extra money.”

“That’s not a bad idea. It’d be a perfect place.” Placide stepped into the kitchen and looked around. He shed his heavy coat and hung it aside. “It’s so cold out. I’m glad your house is warm.”

“Surprisingly good heating system for an old house, right? Do you need helping with anything?” You asked.

“I just need to heat a few things up.” He set some wrapped dishes down on the table. “How are you feeling, by the way?”

You touched your hat and shrugged. “Hurt and embarrassed still.”

“Don’t be. Embarrassed that is. But is the pain bad?”

You shook your head. “Only if I touch it. And here, this is the stove.” You stepped aside to let him near it.

It did feel a bit awkward, but you couldn’t tell if it was all just you, or if maybe Placide was feeling it too.