Flowers for Horse
J had never been so arrogant as to believe that he was the only one with strange powers. Arrogance left one vulnerable, and that was something that he could not afford. He knew that he was easy prey, both his body and his powers were still too undeveloped to fend off attacks from beings older than him. The development of his mental faculties far oustripped the growth of his power or body. It was both a blessing and a curse that he was able to comprehend the consequences of this weakness.
With the revelation that he had been placed with the Dursleys by beings who had powers similar to his, his helplessness was driven home. He was certain that if They had gone so far as to wipe his memory before placing him with the Dursleys they would have ways to ensure that he stayed there. They had gone through the effort into keeping him alive, for some reason. He didn’t really have any experience to base his deductions on, which made things difficult. The majority of his knowledge of such situations mainly stemmed from the news, action movies and science fiction adventure novels that had somehow made their way into the Dursley’s care. The holes in the information provided were mostly filled by logic. He knew that as weak as he was presently, he had very little chance at successfully escaping and evading his captors for any significant length of time.
Any escape attempts on his part would be futile at this time, and only lead to heightened security which would in turn make any future attempts at escape more difficult. He needed to be able to at least defend himself before he attempted escape, especially if he was going to have to possibly fight against more than one person with as of yet undetermined powers. He did not particularly like having to stay there, but for all of their hatred and mistreatment of him, Horse and Walrus would never outright kill him. It wasn’t because there was some small part inside of them that recognized that he was an individual whose life was sacred in any way. It was because they enjoyed having a sentient being held prisoner, vulnerable and helpless against their violence and assertions of superiority. In short, they enjoyed the power trip that came from having him at their mercy. Killing him would deprive them of that, and sully their hands in a way that they probably didn’t think was justified.
It might have made him hate them, if he hadn’t found it so amusing. He knew that he was weak, now. He was a child, and like all children he was subject to the whims of his elders, regardless of his intelligence. But something that he knew, and that Horse and Walrus had evidently forgotten, was that children grow up. Some quicker than others. They do not remain helpless forever, nor do they remain cowed. And J was a child who had a perfect memory that would follow him into adulthood. He knew that one day it would be him who held them helpless and vulnerable and utterly at his mercy. He does not think he will be inclined to grant them his forgiveness. For just as they are unworthy of his hate, they are thrice as unworthy of his forgiveness.
But for now he will bide his time, until he has the power to seize his freedom.
Sometimes the snakes return, and talk with him while he works in Horse’s garden. He listens to their tales of the world outside his prison as he coaxes out the growing power inside of himself. They tell him of the great noisy and disgusting city they visited in their search for their object. The larger snake informs him that it was nearly run over by one of the humans’ great metal monstrosities. The smaller snake informs its companion that the correct term is motor vehicle, and requests that it at least try not to sound like an ignorant wretch.
J wonders how it learned that term, as he slowly drips a tiny portion of his energy into Horse’s petunias. He’s trying to make them sentient. He’s learned that he can do a great many things with this energy of his, as long as he knows exactly what he wants,and has the sufficient will for it to be so . It thrums beneath his skin,his power, sometimes like liquid sunlight, strong and bright. Sometimes it’s like he imagines clouds would feel, cold and wet and roiling with energy just waiting to become a proper storm. It is vast, this energy of his, but his body is still a weak vessel for its power, and he dare not use more than a mere trickle of its might lest it consume him whole. One day, he vows, he shall master it in its entirety.
Today it feels like sunlight, and he almost smiles as he feels it comply with his wishes. He can feel the twenty or so consciousnesses slowly come into being within the flowers that Horse loves so dearly. They’re weak, still, not awake enough for proper thoughts, but assuredly there. And they are his. He sends out tendrils of his power to each of the budding sparks and feeds them his disgust and disdain for the woman he calls Horse. They drink it in with a mindless thirst and he feels their consciousnesses shine with a darker light. He gives them the shades of memories of dashed hopes and cruel words. Their minds are like jagged blades. He gives them memories of scars and pain and hunger. They dig their roots deeper into the moist black dirt, and their petals seem somehow sharper. He pulls back the tendrils, sits on his haunches and looks on at them with something akin to pride.
The snakes never tell him their names, and he never asks. He isn’t actually sure they have names, in any case. He could understand that.
He waits a month between the first and second meetings. It takes them that long to finish their assignment. They still won’t tell him what it is they had been looking for, or who the Lady is. But they tell him stories of other things, and do not pry into his business, overmuch, and he is content with it.
Although, for all of the smaller snake’s intelligence, it is still a snake and cannot understand why he does not simply leave his prison. He doesn’t try to explain.
The larger snake simply accepts his actions, while bemoaning the fact that he isn’t a member of their noble race, because then he would surely be venomous and could solve all his problems by biting them. He simply nods and humours the rather passionate creature.
Sometimes he discusses the humans who wield powers and sticks with the snakes, but they can tell him little more than they already have because snakes in general care very little for humans and their matters. The larger snake generally takes the time at this part of their conversation to remind J that he isn’t human. J just concedes to that with a hum and resumes whispering to his petunias.
He’s disappointed that he could not learn more about his enemies from the snakes he thinks might possibly be his friends. But they are snakes, and he supposes he should not expect too terribly much of them, especially when they are already being so nice to him without any particular reason.
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The smaller snake had been somewhat irked by its inability to provide much information on the stick-wielders to J. It has never really seen the need to concern itself with the problems of their world. Now, though, that this small being in front of it, barely a hatchling really, seemed so disappointed by the lack of information, it feels… It doesn’t really know how it feels. Snakes aren’t great at feelings. But it knows that it doesn’t like not being able to provide information to this strange hatchling. That’s its purpose; information gathering. Just as its companion’s purpose is to provide violent force. Not being able to fulfill its purpose to the fullest, even if it isn’t for his Lady, bothers him greatly. So in between their visits with the hatchling, the snakes set out to rectify their present lack of intelligence concerning the stick-wielders.