milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Belar's real proud of those mountains, now that the snow's finally settled in and everything's in shape for maximum winter-time use. Time to go see if he can't rustle up some interest in 'em, as long as they're out there waiting for people, hey? At least, once he's done with his obligations.

The sign on his table tonight reads:

ANSWERING PRAYERS - BACK IN 15 MINUTES

WILL TAKE QUESTIONS ABOUT SNOWBOARDING, SKIING, BOBSLED, LUGE, OR OTHER SNOW-BASED SPORT LESSONS AFTER THAT

NO, SERIOUSLY, THERE'S MOUNTAINS OUTSIDE, GO LOOK

That, he figures, should do the trick.

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"You said it," says Belar. That was a serious vibration he felt there. Somewhere down those lines of influence, a fish is tugging on the hook. Now he's got to set that hook in its jaw.

"Too right, Miss Tam," he says, "too darn right. Because I'll tell you- I've been out there in the real world, and I've been to the halls of commerce, and I can tell you that if there's anything at all the two have in common, it's that you've absolutely, totally, completely gotta be there. It's not enough just to hang around and poke your finger into this pot or that. You can't do that kind of thing halfway. It's all here-"

He taps his temple with one forefinger.

"You can't let that get away from you, you know? You can't let something distract you, pull your attention off, make you imagine there's some, I don't know, some game of trading in things as empty as the wind that makes a difference. Because that's all finance is, you know? As empty as the wind after the storm's blown itself out. It's nothing but the faith people put in it. It's not seeing the sky, feeling the stars, being out there with the snow and the mud under your feet and the snow falling down on you. It's not being alive. If you're going to live, you can't let that game pull your attention away. Your mind's got to be in one or the other, and..."

He gauges the tension in that unwholesomely greasy influence, the look on River's face.

"... I think you know where yours ought to be, don't you, Miss Tam? You can do so much better than this. Come out. You know you want to. Come on out of it."

He holds out a hand to her, expression neutral, but eyes hopeful.

River's eyes are fixed on him, wide and just a little panicky, her breath coming too fast.

"I'm not," she says blankly, and sways slightly -- and then her hand does lift, but only to catch herself against the table, though there's no reason for her balance to be off. "I'm not," stronger and more strained, "the incorporated assumptions are fallacious," and her fingers tighten on the edge of the table as she closes her eyes with a low gasp.

The style of her clothes has changed subtly, and her long tumbling hair doesn't look half so tidy as it did a second ago.

Belar nods. "You know who you are," he says, and it's a question as much as it is a statement. "Let's hear it."

If he were the kind of god to exert his will on people, this would be ... well, rather different. Even the strongest-willed of his world's humans can't withstand a God's will without external help.

He's not that kind of God. He's waiting, and he's listening.

River's will is very strong, but her mind is fragile. There are fault lines; there's quicksand, and scars in every sense of the word.

"I don't want it," she whispers, eyes squeezed shut.

Not to Belar.

"The drawings overlap, lines blurred, trade the planets and misplace the priorities." She sucks in a shaking breath. Steadier, "I have a mission."

He nods again. "That you do," he says, very quietly, but his words are the sort that can't not be heard. "That you do, River. You know, and so do I."

Fish tend to break the line most often with the absolute last jump.

He's not about to jeopardize this.

"Ken it," River whispers, "very well," and opens red and teary eyes to stare at her hands.

There's nothing poised and professional about her now.

No, there is not. He'd know if there were.

For a moment, just a moment, there is a hand on her shoulder. He's been there for his people for twelve thousand years, whether in person or in spirit; he can be here for this, for her, for now.

The hand is not there any more, but that does not mean he is gone. When you are the Bear-God, all bears are open to you, even the strange small bears of River's world and River's future. So if there is, perhaps, a bear with the proportions of Ursus arctos but of a size that people would be willing to let into their homes, and if that bear were to poke his wet black nose against River's leg? That's not such an unheard-of thing either.

The bear's going to be here just as long as he needs to be. Whatever she does.

Genetic engineering's an advanced tool by the 26th century. Bears are a classic and charismatic animal, beloved in literature and history; they're also an inconvenient animal to have around, by and large.
Suddenly we're on Jiangyin and she's got a driving need to commune with the beast?
Which is why, round about the time they were terraforming the first planets of what's now the Rim, a few scientist set about breeding smaller and more docile forms of certain large animals from the frozen genetic samples the spaceships carried from the vaults of Earth-That-Was. Modern bears are small enough to be house-pets, and can be tamed to eat from a dish, and to come when called to be petted.
They weren't cows inside.
River drops out of her chair in an abrupt ungraceful tangle, abandoning soy and stock options on the table to curl into herself and turn her face against the fur of the miniature polar bear.
They were waiting to be, but they forgot.
He's a god, really. He looked like a man a minute ago. And even in River's world, no polar bear is tame enough for a complete stranger to cuddle.
Now they see the sky
It doesn't matter.
and they remember what they are.
She's not crying. She's only wrapping her arms around herself, and breathing, and remembering what, for an evening, she forgot.

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