After Brutoin’s success at the festival, he and his people got to work. In a conceptual way they had made much progress, but no specific action had yet been taken. The world had not felt their presence. Brutoin, Yu, Lilah, Tristan, and Mara had been held up together researching all the leads on magical things that they’d gotten from people at the festival. Also, they had created and distributed pamphlets to their mailing list. Brutoin’s charisma had expressed itself it the pamphlets and made them interesting enough to cause most of the readers not to unsubscribe. The pamphlet had been designed by Brutoin’s team and paid for by Lilah’s resources. They had been written in flowery language that said very little. They had a synopsis of a few of the more believable stories which had been gleaned from the festival. They had corresponding art too. The pamphlet ended with a call to action, though an unobtrusive one. It called the reader to do at least one of the following: to dwell on hopeful thoughts of change in the future, to bring balance in their own lives, to donate money for the group, or to provide any practical assistance of any kind that they wanted to offer.
Besides pamphlet making, there was one true action which Brutoin’s people had taken. They had taken on the mission to destroy the life of those who had worked harm in Tristan and Mara’s life. Brutoin and friends had used their connections to get the information of the people who had: employed Tristan, employed Mara, rented the building they lived in, and sold the fraudulent insurance. They then used their network of a dozen angry people to scare these villains. The fraudulent insurance salesperson was the most difficult to find, but the most important target. This one was not just to be scared, but to have their life ruined. They so terrified him that not only did he hide in his home and stop all communications, but he ended up leaving the country. He abandoned his family and was not heard from again for a whole solar year. Brutoin and Tristan thought it would truly restore balance to somehow get his home transferred to Tristan and Mara. Alternately, they thought it would be good to seek the abandoned family, befriend them, make sure they were also against him, and get them to voluntarily become part of the movement. They made this a long term goal. Lilah was sent out to make the connection. She succeeded in befriending them. Brutoin hoped to, in time, have them for himself.
This small success whetted their appetites for more change, on a larger scale next time. They sorted through the magical things, now thoroughly researched.
Brutoin led their round table discussion, “It’s time to act. We’ve talked and talked. We keep going in circles. Let’s decide where to go first.”
Tristan put his idea forward again, “Those geckos, they’re real. They’re amazing, even almost magical – but real. I’ve seen them before. It’ll be a challenge to catch one, but it can be done.” Dwelling on this, and leaving behind the practical issues of paying bills, gave Tristan a lot of energy for his work.
Lilah submitted her challenge again, “But what are they good for. They make lighting a fire easier, or seeing at night, but what else? We are trying to right the cosmic wrongs.”
This language of cosmic wrongs appealed to Brutoin. “That’s right,” he said. “It’s a good target, because it can be done, but it’s not a good first target. Who will it help?”
Mara defended her husband’s plan, “It’ll give us credibility. Imagine going to the next festival with a glowing, fire breathing lizard that many believe are fantasy.”
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“The festival is a whole sol away. And, what good is credibility? We aren’t trying to gather support just to pay our way into change – not that I would reject financial change – but we are striving for a something more real. We need to make the fantasy real to make a real difference. Transform reality as people know it,” Brutoin preached.
Lilah again suggested the mythological creature that she most believed to be real. “The pixies on that island. It’s not that far from here, and I’ve personally heard those legends a million times. And, they heal! Like supposedly they can actually fix illnesses. Brutoin, if it works, you could be proof. You could be well again!” Lilah pleaded in her prissy, disinterested way. She always came off as wanting to be right more than actually caring about what she was saying.
Brutoin had an image of himself, traveling with a healing oracle, healing dozens wherever he went, attracting crowds. Imagine the change that would happen then. To Lilah’s point, many people had mentioned the pixie legend. It wasn’t that far to travel either; just a drive and a boat ride away.
Strangely, as much as he imagined healing crowds, he didn’t exactly take to the idea of being healed himself. He would be glad to be rid of the constant aches, to be free of the fear of increasing pain as he aged. But the cost of looking normal might be too high a cost. He had gained a reputation as a sort of centaur man. He saw himself as a piece of mythology, suffering for his special-ness. As much as he’d be happy to be rid of the suffering, the special-ness was his identity.
Tristan pushed his point again, “Those stories are old. And they all disagree. Some of them just say that the pixies put you to sleep. If that is true, how are we going to get them? Some stories just say that they are really beautiful birds that enchant people. Some say they make you ill. Seriously…”
The idea of the pixies entrancing people made them seem a worthy adversary to Brutoin. It struck his fancy. “You’re right Lilah.” Lilah glowed haughtily. Tristan struck the table in dejection. Besides preferring Lilah’s plan, Brutoin also preferred her. She was somewhat unhinged and explosive. He saw this as a great virtue. He reaffirmed her plan to the group, “The pixies are the strongest choice. We’ll start there. What’s left now is to get transportation and all the other things.”
They began the planning phase. They would need to learn all about the island. They would need to gather information and practical reconnaissance. They would need a boat and a way point. All these particulars were discussed.
This conversation had been discussed in the large dining room of Lilah’s parent’s house. Lilah’s parents had been put out by the voluminous enthusiasm of their daughter’s friends. They’d been having a little dinner party of their own. A few old friends of theirs had come over for wine and a meal. The occasional loud interruptions had been unwelcome.
Lilah’s mom told her friends confidentially, “Lilah has always chosen the strangest people to hang around. Not that we mind, you know. It’s not like we see much of them anyway, but it would be nice to have use of our dining room.” They were in a sitting room, and had needed to change the type of food served accordingly.
Lilah’s dad added, “We’ll probably go stay at the other property soon. Let the kids get this shouting out of their system. Besides, I’m sure I can fulfill my clients’ needs from a distance. And the kids really do need some space to express themselves. The housekeeper will keep an eye on them.”
Their guests agreed. Then, the other guests took turns comparing the frustrations of their own children. A few of them told about their own perfect children, and how proud they were. A healthy amount of good and bad will went around between them all.
In the mean time though, one of the guests, on older aepsis man, sat near the hall door. He occasionally made excuses to go into the hall and listen. He was actually glad that the youths were so loud. He knew of the island that they were talking about, and he knew the family who spent most weekends there. Although he fondly remembered Lilah from the time when she and one of his young relatives had gone to school together, he was concerned for the inhabitants of that island. He would prefer that no harm came to the people of the island, of whom he thought well, or to any pixies which might inhabit it.