The Sweet Side of Summer

Last summer is never to be spoken of. This is the one thing Dipsi made clear when he invited Fleur to the Hidden Garden this year. Only on a technicality is she old, but for the festivities this year, she is new, and she is meant to be showed around the rest of the seasons so she can familiarize herself with the bookended weather.

Fleur is an elegant fox, after all. She does not appear to be that serious, but Dipsi can never be sure of what to expect, especially after Astral made a huge scene about what is an is not appropriate for a god’s behavior. And while, yes, Dipsi does recognize that Astral is wiser than he, he has never been a fan of the pompous fox.

Astral is constantly cradled by the All Mother and Dipsi especially does not like that fact.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, though, when Fleur makes herself known. And it is true what has been said about her. She is immaculate. A fine and dainty flower made fabric and mist. She carries herself with an airiness that seems fitting for the embodiment of Spring. Dipsi is more the heralder of summer but only in an official capacity. This is what he wants.

To revel in his true spontaneity is to see the churning seas of madness and be enveloped in it. To become one with the unknowable darkness and to drown in the froth of the expanse. This is a part of himself that he hides better when he is awake.

Fleur has not seen this part of him as far as he knows, but it is extremely possible that she will. The way her tail flares out in the ocean winds is enticing and Dipsi cannot help but be smitten.

It is only natural for the summer to be mesmerized by the spring. Just as the fall is meant to bite at the heels of the sun as it retreats. They are equally cool in different ways. One brings the end of winter’s wrath with warming rains and one chases the heat away to drag out the snow on a tailwind.

Dipsi, however, also does not care for the Mini God.

“Pleasure to see you, old friend,” Dipsi says as he sweeps with a low bow. The oceans along the shoreline bow as well and the waves are ridden by the mortal fox in adventurous joy.

“No, please,” Fleur responds. She is coy and she hides behind a soft voice wreathed in flower petals. Dipsi is not tricked by this softness. Her wits are sharp. She is a bringer of life and a bringer of death. “The pleasure is all mine. I fear that am unfamiliar with your section of the realm. My apologies. Sometimes sleep is hard to break.”

“Ah,” Dipsi replies. There is a curtness there, like sweltering heat cutting through the shade. He is not mad, no never, but he is not eager to follow that train of thought. “Allow me to introduce my domain then. I am Dipsi, God of the Seas and Heralder of Summer. Lord of the Sea Palace and Father of Crabbots.”

“Cute little guys, I must say.”

Dipsi smiles. “Thank you. I consider them my finest work if you can believe it.”

“I’ve read the archives.”

Fleur dances away from him, tilting her hands so her scythe digs into the sands of the shore. She can see the edge of the Hidden Garden just beyond a dilapidated fence. The Hidden Garden is well known for the escapades that take place there. The center of the Realm’s soul, she thinks. It’s appropriate.

“Well read,” Dipsi says. “I find that to be interesting. Usually the archives go untouched by the new threads. At least until boredom takes hold. Is your existence so fraught with the mundane that you turn to the archives so soon?”

Fleur returns Dipsi’s smile with one of her own. “No need to get too antsy, I did keep my nose out of your business while I was there.”

There is visible relief on Dipsi’s face, though his fins still flare and he gets haughty looking. Looms unintentionally in the churlish grip of his own madness. He will not take her, but his senseless chaos can only be held at bay before so long. Not even the other seasons are free of his influence, just as he is not free of theirs.

“I wouldn’t assume the worst of you,” he finally says. The waves calm and there is verbal protesting from the surfers. “It would be rude of me to display my might to such a nubile fox. You have yet to truly grow into your role. I’m only supposed to show you to the mortal foxes and let them treat you to their hospitality.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Astral will be on your back until you accept. Once you have your footing, then he is far more likely to leave you be. At least until he wants another story from you.”

Fleur laughs. She can’t help it. “You think so little of him.”

“I do not!”

“I can sense it. It radiates off of you like wilting flowers. Your temper is too hot and you are quick to anger. But I suppose I should expect at least that from the Lord of the Seas. Heralder of Summer. Many many titles.”

She is making fun of him and he can feel it in every fiber of his being. It seems, at least to him for now, that Fleur is just as cantankerous as the Mini God. The bookends are always trying to close around his life and he should have seen this coming. Another babysitter for the churning madness. Dipsi deflates a little, but Fleur does not appear to care.

“I didn’t say that like it was a bad thing, did I?” Her voice is challenging. She is too quick.

“No,” Dipsi says.  “But you could at least see what there is to offer before you assume the worst.”

“I think I can do that for you.”

They enter the garden together.

---

The fanfare that rises when gods enter the Hidden Garden is often fraught with a myriad of powerful emotions. Most are in awe, which is widely considered to be the correct response to seeing the behemoths that are the gods of the realm. Some are more reserved. A respectful acknowledgement with the understanding that god business is likely far more important than anything else going on in the garden.

Dipsi has many conflicting feelings as well. He revels in the praise he gets from the mortal foxes. He loves them in his own way. Is perfectly willing to grant them the ability to breathe underwater and make their own adventures in his domain. He is even willing to allow them to be bold when they know they should not be.

He also hates them viscerally. It is the madness that wants to take them and render them into blankets across the sand. It is the madness that wants to return them to their previous lives, only to try and try again to leave the realm of dreams. It is his madness that will devolve and churn and roil without hesitation and without recourse. Any who fall in the way suffer the same fate.

Even his physical body, Astral, Fleur. Even the All Mother if she were to lay before the thing she made.

But he does not act on these impulses when in the waking world. He is contained when he is washed in the praise of mortals. He supposes that this is as good a place as any to start. When he gestures to Fleur, the mortal foxes are filled with curiosity. They had never seen this fox before. She is so large. Larger than any Scarfox they had ever seen previously, thus cementing her status as a god almost immediately.

“You have to show them that you care,” he says. “I do this by talking to and with them. I make their summers grand and hot. Filled with fun. You can do the same. Perhaps with your power over the plants and in the spring. We are in the Hidden Garden after all. This can be your place to show them what you are made of.”

Fleur does none of these things. She will not gesture and bow and wave. She will not show the mortal foxes what she is made of because she knows that she does not need to prove herself to anyone, least of all the mortal foxes who will worship her and throw themselves at her feet. She does not see the point in this, as her role far surprasses anything that any of these individuals would do.

Surely, she reasons, Dipsi realizes this as well. She does look to him, though, and she sees the churning madness that swirls around his aura. She can see that it leaks out of him as he brandishes his magic for the mortal foxes to enjoy. The crispness of the water in the Hidden Garden’s pools, remade into the ocean for only a moment before the mirages dissipate.

The mortal foxes love him, Fleur notes. They cannot get enough of his beautiful glittering fins and his bold colors. He speaks so loudly and frolics and plays with them. And he accepts their offerings of food and shells. It is like they cannot see what lies just beneath the curves of his waves.

Fleur suddenly does not want to be here anymore. She is a liar after all. She tricks the world into believing that the warmth of spring has come to stay before she reaps the ones too hasty. Flower, fox, animal. They all will fall to her cold snaps if they come too soon. Hers is not a power of glee. She is underestimated. Even here, she is underestimated.

But she does not snap at Dipsi or any of the mortal foxes. How could she? Dipsi’s overwhelming heat would dry her out and leave her a mess of fabric in the breeze. She knows that Dipsi’s might is that of an order of birth. The seas came first, the lands followed suit. The only one outside of this is Astral, who is the All Mother’s right hand. The lorekeeper where she cannot be. It is not the job of the creator to keep the records after all.

“Do you have doubts?”

Fleur spins around and Astral is beside her, tiny by comparison. Dipsi has long since left her to her own devices. He cannot rush her into action just as winter is not able to. Astral smirks at her and she does not appreciate it. She wants to sweep him away but she will not want to deal with the All Mother’s punishment. The lorekeeper does just that. Astral will be gone before the day is up, sniffing after the mundane to catalog it.

“It is normal to have doubts about mortals, I suppose.”

“Not quite what I meant, deary,” Astral replies. His tone is neutral, but Fleur suspects he’s here to see her progress as well. “He can be a handful sometimes.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“And,” Astral’s tone is pointed but still not threatening. “I hear you’ve been in the archives.”

“They are free to peruse, isn’t that right?”

Astral shrugs. “I suppose that is true, but you do know that if you peer into the lives of others, they will want to do the same to you.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t had much of a life,” Fleur replies. She does not like this conversation.

“When it comes to the sea, the length of the life does not matter. Surely you’ve picked up on it.”

“And is he a danger to me?”

Astral shrugs again. “He is a danger only if you cannot withstand it.”

Fleur sighs. “I will not be rushed.”

“This I know.” Astral offers her a reassuring smile, but she is not looking at him. The sooner he fades away, the better. “But he is far more patient than you, even if he is a bit loud at times.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Only if you think it is.”

---

When Astral finally leaves Fleur to her godly duties, she is left with a lingering feeling of discontent. When she was created, the All Mother told her only to bring in the spring and see off the summer. To allow the seeds to spread and thrive. To allow the animals room to reproduce. To embody such an abstract concept and to fill the realm with her influence.

And she cannot deny the fact that she is new. Even though Dipsi is doing his best to show her around, she is new and she is vulnerable and she is so easily entangled in something that should not be there. Is it wrong for the summer to be so invasive? Or is she just upset at Dipsi’s lack of subtlety? It is hard to say at the moment, though, thankfully, Fleur finds that the mortal foxes are leaving her alone as well. At least for now.

When she goes to explore, Dipsi is never far behind her, but even he is giving her room to breathe. Occasionally he will say something, explain a bit of the magic that is inherent to the Hidden Garden and Fleur will sometimes say something back to him, but most of the time she is just absorbing the feelings. Testing the limits of her ability to resonate with the realm and adhere it to her influence.

In the Hidden Garden, it is much easier than it had been on the beach. Fleur knows it’s the work of the Mini God who keeps this place running fairly well even during the off seasons. Fleur feels the invitation to leave her own mark, which she hesitates to allow.

Whenever she is granted her own territory, she will not want just anyone to come in and try to tame it. She is wild when she wants to be and she will snap and splinter if she needs to. If it brings in the new and sweeps out the old. This is something she wants to be exceedingly clear.

“Is it feeling a little more comfortable for you?” Dipsi asks. He wants to drap an arm over her shoulder. He’s feeling particularly friendly after battering away the madness for long enough. In a way, he’s almost a normal fox. Large, sure, but normal.

“No,” Fleur says. It is a joke and Dipsi recognizes that.

“Well, if you still aren’t really feeling the vibes,” he replies, “Then you might be interested in something that the mortal foxes have cooked up. They make food, you know. I feel like I said that before.”

“You have.”

“It’s honestly the best part after the shells. There’s this one roast that I had last summer and it was to die for. I very nearly did.”

“Only in your dreams, right?” Fleur is careful when she speaks and Dipsi hears that in her and recognizes the fear. She knows and this spooks him a little.

“Not quite,” Dipsi says. “Astral was here, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, but he didn’t say anything.”

“So your trips into the archives, then?”

Fleur nods but she shows no shame. “I do my due diligence. I will not fall by the wayside between the blistering cold and the sweltering heat. That is not my nature, that is not my purpose. I am supposed to relieve the winter and prepare for the summer but I do not know how to prepare for the madness.”

Dipsi moves away from her and in his shadows, threads wriggle in the heat. It’s almost a mirage, but Fleur is not tricked.

“You are quite the ambitious one.” Dipsi sounds calm, and his voice is even soft. Softer than it ought to be. “You really should mind your own business when it comes to these things. You cannot withstand me.”

“I think I can do just fine,” Fleur shoots back.

Her scythe is to her side, as Dipsi’s trident is to his. They have not raised their arms towards each other yet, but the Hidden Garden is very aware of them. The eyes of the native fauna are trained and keen. The mortal foxes who celebrate the sun are driven away by coincidence.

“Is this your quirk?” Dipsi asks. “Are you going to be a thorn?”

“I don’t know yet. Why are you suddenly so defensive? Will you unravel me if I stand up to you?”

“I would never do such a thing on purpose.” Dipsi’s trident twitches, draped in threads and wobbling as the water on the beach swells. The mortal foxes do not know how close to danger they are. “When you embody the season, you take all of it with you.”

“You were only the lord of the seas before you were gifted the sun.”

“That was not my decision.”

“But you still nearly ended the realm.”

“It would have lived on.”

“I don’t know what you think will happen if you keep deflecting me,” Fleur says finally. “You know that I am here to temper you for at least a little bit before you destroy everything in your path. That’s what my quirk is.” There is a long pause. “And I am not that keen on being adhered to you so readily. I was made to deal with you, and that makes me not my own force of nature. Is that something you think should be? Should I just be the buffer to you?”

Dipsi’s face falls. “I did not ask for this.”

“And neither did I.”

The silence between them weighs like an anchor. Dipsi is brought down further in the depths of his own design and Fleur reluctantly keeps the ropes tied around his feet. She really was made to temper him and while this upsets her to no end, she does not hate Dipsi in the same way he hates himself. She hates him even more. More than she could ever truly realize at such a young age comparatively.

But now is the not the time for them to war. So she releases that pent up breath and her mist eases out of her like a floral wreath, revitalizing the trees around them and bringing about colorful blooms.

“So what is this about a roast?”

Dipsi smiles in response.