Having made their introductions and received ours (Jasmine seeming duly impressed by my name, Ariel and Mulan remaining sadly indifferent), the ladies expressed a desire to change their clothing and to take stock of their possessions, as they have long been confined to small and uncomfortable places and were unsure of what they might still have about them. I was strongly in favor of this plan, but Tara drew me away for a time and thus spoiled the exercise entirely.
When we returned, the ladies had finished changing and were only now taking stock of their remaining possessions (having done things in the wrong order in my opinion). It did cheer me, pettily, to see that while they have far more accessories than I, they also dwarf Tara's collection.
"We still have the laptop!" Jasmine exclaimed upon seeing the object in question, and Tara seemed equally excited to have a size-appropriate connection to the outside world.
For my part, I went to join Mulan and Ariel. Mulan was alternating between keeping watch (in case of more spiders) and fiddling with a record player. "It's not exactly cutting-edge technology," she said, "but if we can put together some records, it'll be nice to have music."
"Where are Blaine's?" Ariel asked without looking up from the globe she was spinning, and occasionally stroking in a most affectionate and suggestive way. "He had a bunch of records."
"If we still had Blaine's stuff, we wouldn't need this," Mulan said regretfully, tapping the phonograph. "He had something to play them on, that table-looking thing. I think the sewing machine and phone will be good to have, but the cash register..." She looked at it speculatively. "I think I could rig up a catapult. Then we could launch it at things if we need to. It's got a good heft to it." She looked at me. "Speaking of violence - William, I realize this is kind of sudden, but I hope you and Tara will move over here with us. This is a comparatively defensible position, we have somewhere to fall back to, and there’s strength in numbers. I don’t want anything to happen to you two while you’re over there alone,” she finished, gesturing to our dresser.
“We would be happy to join you in a more defensible position,” I agreed instantly.
“Good. Jasmine’s been here the longest of anyone, and she says the spiders never used to be like this - I’m afraid there’s something worse that’s making them -”
“Mulan,” Ariel interjected, “I really need to find an atlas.”
“Right now? You’ve got the globe.”
“It’s small and wrong about a lot of things, and it hasn’t got any statistics,” Ariel insisted.
“I guess we could stand to get the lay of the land a little better,” Mulan sighed, clambering to her feet. “Come on, then, I’ll need help carrying it back.”
“Yes! Thank you!” Ariel hopped up and kissed her cheek, and with a wave she was off.
“Sorry,” Mulan winced, chasing after her. “Jasmine, we’ll be right back.”
Forlorn once they were no longer close enough for me to admire in their leaving, I joined Tara and Jasmine, who were doubtless talking over feminine trivialities. “Why, pray, does the lady Ariel need an atlas with such urgency?” I inquired.
“Oh,” Jasmine said carefully, glancing at Tara. “That’s her... thing. Maps.”
“I apologize, but I fail to understand. Her ‘thing’?”
“Her... crutch. Maps,” she repeated, as if this were explanation enough.
“I don’t understand either,” Tara said apologetically.
Jasmine looked taken aback. “Maybe it’s just Barbies,” she mused. “I just assumed it was all of us. Well, then... Isn’t it ever hard for you two, to sort of remember who you are, but not all of it, and to not have all of the people who made you who you are?”
“I do know who I am,” I announced, although I admit to being somewhat worried by realizing that I didn’t recall my wife or children at all clearly.
“I have the DVDs for when I miss people,” Tara said distantly.
“Hm... That’s interesting. It doesn’t work for us that way, though. Or maybe - if we had access to the movies, that might be different. But the way things are, we tend to need something to lean on, to help establish ourselves. And then after, we can be a bit dependent. Ariel gets antsy when she goes too long without some new maps.”
“And what, my dear lady, is your ‘thing’?” I asked.
“Stories. I collect them and tell them. We have to make our own entertainment a lot of the time, so it’s useful,” she answered placidly. “Mulan, though - she’s never really needed anything. She remembers more of her origin legend, and as long as she has people to take care of, she’s fine.”
“You do remember some of that, too?” Tara looked intrigued. “I was wondering.”
“I think that’s why Ariel’s the way she is,” Jasmine confided. “It can’t be fun to half-remember killing yourself in order to get a soul. At least Mulan and I have happy endings.”
“What endings are these?” I asked. “I fear I am unacquainted with your stories.”
“I’ll be happy to tell you the entire stories later on,” Jasmine answered, and I marked this as a victory and made note to procure this interview with her in as much solitude as was possible, “but to keep things brief, I get married and live happily ever after, and Mulan saves her Emperor, her father, and most of China.”
“China?” I frowned and searched my memory. “She is from the Orient, then?”
Tara laughed, and then stopped hastily. “Um, yeah. And also, no, because it’s called Asia now.”
“From whence, then, do you come, my good woman?” I asked, turning to Jasmine.
“Well... Baghdad, mostly,” she said. “But the original story took place in China, only it was a version of China that sounds like the Middle East.”
“Oh,” I said, crestfallen, for although I could see plainly enough that she was Moorish, it was nonetheless rather disheartening to have it confirmed aloud. “I suppose Tara and I remain the only Englishmen, in a matter of speaking.”
“Not... really,” Tara said, stifling laughter again. “I’m American. And you know, you’re not... we’ve been talking about this, Will. You’re not exactly English-English. You talk sort of funny, but not Elizabethan funny, and your accent isn’t even as strong as Giles’s.”
“I most certainly am entirely English,” I said stiffly, cut to the quick at this denial of my proud heritage and bone-deep connection to the greatest of empires. “Come hither, my good lady, and I shall prove it to you.”
Having guided Tara to the stand of flags nearly directly above our new home, I pointed proudly to the Union Jack. “Does your bosom swell with pride almost to the point of pain, your head pound with the knowledge of her proud line of kings and queens, at the very sight of this flag, do your feet ache for their native soil?” I asked.
“I... no?”
“Whereas mine does,” I said with no small satisfaction.
“Which plainly proves it,” Tara said, and although she sounded more amused than convinced I am sure I shall bring her around to the sight of sense.
Considering the matter settled, I removed one of the flags from its stand and brought it back with us to the dresser where Jasmine was once again checking things on her laptop.
As we were thus engaged, Ariel and Mulan were concluding their exploration of the perimeter in hopes of a collection of atlases, having achieved their goal.
They chose only one for the first trip back, the books being of prodigious size, and upon their return Ariel made a production of presenting it with as much pride as if she herself had written and illustrated the tome, nearly giddy with relief.
The first page being a spread of the world, I looked eagerly for Britain, and the sight was sobering, putting the rest of the world in perspective as it did. “Tara,” I asked, “do you have any idea where Willow might be?”
This necessitated an explanation of my quest, one Tara did no justice to and which I took over in order that the ladies might appreciate the romance and generosity of my nature.
Ariel failed to realize the magnitude of my spirit, preferring to dwell on cold, unfeeling details. “You’re going to look for a five-inch action figure,” she said, “somewhere in the five quadrillion, five hundred two trillion, five hundred thirty-two billion, one hundred twenty-seven million square feet of the planet?”
“That’s not a needle in a haystack,” Tara mumbled, “that’s a needle in Kansas.”
“I am unswerved from my purpose,” I insisted.
“Will,” she said gently. “It means a lot to me that you care, but this isn’t the most practical way to -”
“I have given my word, and shall hear no more on the subject,” I announced grandly. “Now, let us retrieve our possessions.”
This, too, we essayed (all except Ariel, who remained with her atlas); several of us transported the jewelry case, and while the others went back for the trunk, Jasmine hung back in order to help me place a few objects on the top of it in order to reduce clutter. When she was done muttering about being a princess, she added, “Who’s the picture of?”
“I beg your pardon?” I had forgotten, and she opened the case, removing the portrait.
“Oh. Morgan le Fay?” She frowned. “Is she some kind of role model for Tara?”
“She is my love,” I said devoutly, “and an Englishwoman born and bred.”
“You’ve met her?” She asked dubiously.
“I have no need of it. A true melding of souls -”
“How... wonderful.” She pursed her lips, checking the progress of the others and Ariel’s relative attentiveness to our conversation, which was in negative numbers. “Listen, William, I want to clear a few things up quickly. One, if you make a pass - excuse my language - at Ariel, Mulan is going to hurt you. And two, for very different reasons, if you make a pass at Mulan, Ariel will probably kill you in your sleep.” She winked. “Best of luck with Morgan, though,” she finished, and sauntered away.
Having thus undermined my plans for the evening (although I notice she made no threat as to her own virtue), Jasmine suggested that we bed down for the night and, maddeningly, was the one to suggest that I get my own room, as though it were a boon (however, her smile in my direction made plain she intended no favor, and shall also likely fuel my dreams for several nights to come).
In defiance of Jasmine’s irritating brand of flirtation, I insisted on placing Morgan in my new room. Tired of women and foreigners (I was shocked to learn that even Ariel is Danish), I confess that I wished that evening for the companionship of a good Englishman.
I should perhaps have been more specific.
