Curate, connect, and discover
Dark walked home to the house he shared with his, well friend to be honest. The Host, or Issac as he was better known was an interesting character both physically and personality wise. He was an radio host-cum-podcast creator who had a dry wit and sharp tongue. the only thing that hurt more than being hit by his cane was his insults, somehow creatively unique for each person.
Physically he was a few inches taller than dark, this infuriated the goshawk which normally made Issac chuckle. On his back where a pair of glossy black raven wings tucked tightly in, never used, not because they where clipped, the conspiracy revolution to got them rights to fly, claiming that they ate fruit and seeds too so they should be allowed to fly, but many protested. Issac was attacked by some teenagers with a knife when he was 16, causing him permanent blindness. This meant without help he was grounded.
Dark opened the door and heard the raven in his room just finishing recording a podcast. The podcasts and radio show where fairly popular with the grounded, as the Host interacted with them daily, finding relevant topics to them and their interests, hopes and dream, something many radio hosts failed to bring.
Dark walked into the kitchen and grabbed a glass and filled it with water then taking a sip as he listened to the raven come down the stairs. He watched at the other man came through the door wearing a flannel and dark jeans.
“Dark” the mans soothing voice stated
“Host, how are you?”
“Good, but you sound off” the host’s head turned to the side in curiosity
Dark ignored the statement and continued drinking.
“Is it a good guess something happened?”
dark gave him a glare. Issac just smirked.
“i am right then, what was it,was it a-”
“Shut up Issac” Dark snapped grumpily, “I don’t ask about your personal life”
“That because you don’t care, i’m sure you would kill me if I talked about my love life with Edward” the man walked over to the fruit bowl and grabs a handful of grapes.
“If you are insinuating i like him your wrong” the goshawk frowned
“Hey, i wasn’t, don’t get your feathers in a ruffle. I was just saying if you-”
“I don’t” he snapped again
“IF you like them you should meet up with them, now I got a date with a handsome owl so I will be on my way” and with that he grabbed his beige trench coat and left to meet his boyfriend, a owl, Dr Edward Iplier, a pathologist who works with police to examine bodies from crime scenes.
Dark sighed after the raven left the room, and sat down at the table. How had a canary brought his day to such a halt?
The canary could really have anyone. He was a late time TV star after all. He was bright energetic and the complete opposite of him.
But opposites attract, right?
The garden behind the manor was always lovely this time of year. Spring showers caused the blooming and rejuvenation of the flowers that had temporarily died and retreated during the winter months. Pinks, blues, reds, and all sorts of other hues popped up across the garden, a nice accompaniment to the soft greens and yellows of the vines and grass that began crawling their way back up.
The pathways’ cracks always managed to get weeds in them at the beginning of the season, which was always a pain to deal with. After years of doing it, you tend to just give up and allow nature to do its thing. Dandelions and various wildflowers sprouted out amongst the weeds as well, so it wasn’t too bad in the end. Those sorts of things were inevitable anyway, so might as well let them be.
Despite the fact that The Host could never truly appreciate his surroundings, his narrations the closest thing he had to sight, he still came here to write when the weather was nice. All the noises and smells filled him with a certain sense of inspiration that his library simply couldn’t provide. The smell of the flowers right after the rain had fallen; the sounds of King’s squirrels running along the fence; the sound of his own footsteps hitting the stone path and the occasional puddle; all of this filled him with such joy and hope that he couldn’t help but write.
He didn’t get this opportunity as The Author, yet another thing that separated him from that horrible, demented man. Living in a cabin in the middle of the woods didn’t exactly make for a great time outside in the rain. The area around his home always got muddy and made it hell to walk through if he needed to walk to town for anything. The trees’ leaves always collected water that dripped unpleasantly down the back of his neck and soaked the back of his shirt. Overall it put the already bitter man into a worse mood than he already was.
Here, in this garden, The Host didn’t have to deal with that. The Host could sit there, content as could be as he enjoyed the area with the senses he could appreciate it with. The sound of pencil or pen on paper was somehow even better accompanied by the sounds of water dripping from vines and the chittering of squirrels. It left The Host with a calm mind and relaxed muscles.
One may think that the garden and its solitude would be just perfect for The Host, which he, at one point, would’ve agreed with. But now that his metaphorical eyes had been opened, he had to admit that the sound of his boyfriend walking over to ‘his’ bench in the garden made him far happier than the rustling leaves did. Occasionally, the clinking of spoons on ceramic came with the footsteps, a sign Dr. Iplier had gotten them both tea. That was perfection to him now: the company of Dr. Iplier in this calming garden.
“The Host turns his head as he hears Edward’s approach, smiling softly as his lover comes to sit next to The Host.” He narrates, a soft smile coming to his face as predicted as Dr. Iplier came close. “The Host inquires about Edward’s day as Edward hands Host his cup of tea.”
Dr. Iplier chuckled gently as he sat beside The Host, handing him the not-to-hot cup of tea over to him. “It was good, shockingly. Henrik and I had the same shift today, so I got to work with him. No patients were lost, so that’s a plus as well. How was yours? Don’t tell me you sat out here all day..” He hummed, leaning his head gently on The Host’s shoulder.
The Host took a sip of his tea, the familiar mix of cinnamon and caramel warming his body. He sighed softly, letting the warmth spread through his chest before he spoke, “The Host will not confirm nor deny Edward’s suspicions.” He said, tone lightly teasing. “Can Edward blame him? The garden is a calming presence to The Host when Edward is off saving lives at the hospital. It’s simply inspiring.”
Dr. Iplier let his eyes roll out of habit, but he couldn’t truly be mad at The Host. He had to agree with him on the calming aura of the area, but he couldn’t agree with the fact The Host probably hadn’t gone inside to even eat or change his bandages. With this thought in mind, he gently reached out and held the hand that wasn’t occupied by the mug.
“Well, once we’re done with our tea, we should probably head inside. I’ve had a long day, we both need to eat, and I want to get your bandages changed.” He said, knowing that trying to drag The Host inside now was likely not going to happen.
“The Host supposes Edward is right, and he thanks him for allowing the two to sit outside as they drink.” The Host said, allowing his head to rest on top of Dr. Iplier’s. “The Host loves Edward..”
“I love you too, Host..”