Wajas | News Post

A Chat at the Pear Tree...conclusion?
The Grand Admiral	May 25, 2020 11:41 am

The once proud and glorious overlord did not know what had led her to wandering to this place. Even in the bright light of mid-afternoon, it was still deep shade under the protective ring of high trees guarding the sacred grove. Golden shafts broke through from time to time, wavering in the gentle spring breeze. Nothing stopped her, or even bore witness to her, as she crossed into the clearing and the Pear Tree finally came into full view. The sound of Vyra’s footsteps was soft as she strode through the blanket of leaves. She remembered how vibrant and full of life the Pear Tree had looked when she had visited this place last spring, when Apollo and Artemis had been looking so intently for a seed. Since then, the Dragon Stars had risen, and its overbearing influence had ended those searches. Easter had come and gone, summer had come and gone. The Tree had born its fruit, and its leaves periodically gathered. Then came fall, the Dragon Stars departure, and then winter and its little difficulties with the goblins. Now it was spring again. But through it all, no more seed searches. So much time gone, so much time wasted. Vyra sat down, glaring up into the tree’s canopy, and abruptly gave a loud snort that echoed in the quiet. Even the Tree’s guardians had gone to join the spontaneous celebrations. Those…what were they, the giant fur balls. The Arctic wajas. Their arrival had almost completely spoiled the ideas she had for this Easter. Of course, there had still been some fun—and by fun she meant time spent admiring Argus—but the Arctics had really stolen her thunder. And now, when the last of the Easter parties should be ending, Lunaria was instead celebrating Apollo’s declaration of welcome to his once brothers and sisters. Arctics were welcome to stay in Lunaria. Huzzah and hurray. Blah, blah, blah. Long story short, there was nothing to stop the Imp as she raised a paw and poked the rough trunk of the tree. “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” she growled. “Don’t you have a job to do? Or are you just being lazy? Spent the whole year just sitting and absorbing the sun, I bet.” She poked the Tree again. Of course, she wasn’t hurting it at all. She wasn’t using any of her claws, merely the pad of her one of her long forepaw fingers. But still, somehow it felt good. She gave the Tree a third poke, and then turned and whapped the side of it with her long tail. In response, there was only a soft whisper of breeze in the leaves above her. She humphed and shook her head. “Fine, be that way.” The once-glitch couldn’t quite figure out exactly what was going through her head. Even after almost two years of being free of the prison of code she had been created from, it was still hard to come to grips with things like feelings. When she was on top of the world, looking down upon everything from on high, everything had come so much easier. There had been dramas, difficulties…but all of them had been easy to handle. A beautiful but imposing presence, generous gifts, and some pretty words had made her a beloved figurehead almost overnight. She hadn’t lost any of these qualities since being so brutally brought down to earth, but it just wasn’t the same. Was she unhappy? No. But was she happy? Well, she could still stride into any gathering and immediately make herself the center of attention. Those who had loved her before loved her still—she had attended so many Spitzen family reunions she was surprised her tail wasn’t a giant pipe cleaner at this point. She could stand her ground with the “mighty” and never lose an inch in the resulting duel of wit. And look at what she had done to conclude the feud between Mad Scientist Fred and his assistant Nicola. Pretty words that had inspired a fretting heart to action. If that wasn’t the almighty Overlord Vyra showing the world that she could still move mountains, than what was it? …incomplete. It was incomplete. Vyra slumped down onto her side moodily, glaring up at the canopy of the Pear Tree. There was something missing in her life, and she just couldn’t figure out what. She still had all the love and adoration she could want, an endless bounty of pleasures to enjoy. She even had her own shop now that sold spectacular treasures. And she still had a few tricks up her sleeve, so to speak. But after enduring years with nothing except the simple pleasures, she actually felt a little empty inside. There had been no grand plans to put in motion. No amazing new goal to reach for. Not even any desire to enact a month-long marathon of annoying Artemis to the point of apocalyptic rage. She could blame the Dragon Stars and the smothering aura they had pressed down over Lunaria, but that had only been during the previous summer. She was Vyra. Glitch-Queen. No stars in any heaven were more powerful than her. So…why? “Hey, you’re supposed to be all-wise and all-knowing, so you tell me,” she said, rolling onto her back. She rolled her eyes and raised her forepaws in a mocking version of supplication. “Oh great Pear Tree, I am all ears. What is lowly simple Vyra missing from life? What can she do to bring back that old spark that made the whole world revolve around me?” She paused. “Well, it still does, when I want it to. I am front and center in the family portraits of almost two-dozen Spitzen families. And do you know that Earths take your pears and make them into delicious little jam-filled tarts? I don’t even like pears, but they are so flaky and sweet and dusted with cinnamon…” Vyra hmmed in pleasure. “And Argus! So handsome, with that lovely deep voice. I could listen to him all day.” She reached out and gathered a handful of leaves in her paws, humming as she tossed them aside one by one. “He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he…” The last leaf in her grip was a faded brown one, dry and dull. Vyra sighed and let it fall away. “Maybe I should just get used to it,” she said. “My true glory days are gone. The real Vyra would have never been swayed by the whims of mere stars, or let a silly little thing like those giant fluffballs get inbetween her holiday joys! But this simple Vyra is no different than any other. It’s not such a bad life, but…it’s not me!” Vyra leapt to her feet, snarling up at the Pear Tree. “I was not created to affect the world by whispering in the ears of others. I am a hurricane, not a little breeze whipping over the grass. So tell me, Pear Tree, tell me now! What can I do to make me myself again? I am Vyra and I command that you answer me!” Something small and hard bounced off the bridge of her snout, falling to the ground at her feet. Vyra blinked, momentarily shocked. Then she growled loudly. “Rude!” she snapped. “I bear my heart and soul and all you do is drop this shriveled little pear on my head!” She grabbed the small shriveled pear-shaped thing and held it closer to her eyes, trying to make out details in the dim light. “I thought I made it clear, I don’t like pears!” She thumped the side of the Tree with her tail again and then glared once more at the little brown object in her paw. “What kind of pear is this anyway?” The leaves above shifted and swayed in the breeze. And suddenly parted for a tiny shaft of golden sunlight. It spilled across the tiny thing in her grip. The rough brown surface, the pear-shaped form, and the tiny tiny sprout at the very tip. Vyra’s eyes widened in amazement. “A seed,” she said. “This…this is the seed! Ha! HAHAHA!” Vyra burst out laughing, almost leaping to the air in glee. “Those winged windbags out there have been waiting for this thing for forever, and yet you give it to ME!” Her muzzle split in a wide grin. “Vyra, the bearer of the Pear Tree’s long awaited offspring. I like the sound of that.” Well could the glitch remember everything this seed was meant to be. The thing Artemis longed for beyond all else. The sapling that would grow and bring her homeland back to life. The thing that had caused her to go against even Apollo’s will and summon forth the Arctics, who were clearly now to be a permanent part of Lunaria. Would the seed serve its purpose? Of course! Vyra had no intention of taking this seed anywhere. But she was still Vyra. And she did still have a few tricks up her sleeve…so to speak. By the evening, there was no evidence that she had ever been there, except for the circular patch of ground she had carefully cleared of all but one leaf, a brilliant rainbow one. Sitting upon it was the precious seed. A great shout of joy from the Tree’s guardians had echoed upon its discovery. Artemis, Apollo, every member of the Corps and the Chosen, Asbjorn and his followers, even Winnie and her parents had gathered. All of them had watched as Artemis carefully dug the hole into the soft soil and placed the seed inside, true tears of joy trickling down her muzzle. So joyous was the moment, and so blurred by tears was the deity of Solaria’s vision, that none noticed. For a brief second, the seed wavered… …glitched… …and then the soil covered it once more.

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