Paradoxus and Company
The day before yesterday, someone gave me a flock of Longaevi "to take care of me." But goodness, I don't think that the giver realized what a lot of trouble Longaevi are! They do take excellent care of me; they sing to me quietly as I am falling asleep, and follow me everywhere and make Latin jokes in my ear--for, you know, Longaevi speak only Latin. It is their language of love. They tease me out of my sadness and make me laugh. They play with my hair and are always making comments that sound strangely like Scripture.
But they are always getting into trouble! There are seven of them, you know (Longaevi always go about in flocks of seven) and their leader (who is born, not made, he being the oldest of the siblings) is the most mischevious of all. His name is Paradoxus Maximus, and that is too much name for anybody whom I can hold in my hand. Paradoxus has unruly brown hair (but at least it is not curly! Chiasmus is bad enough in that respect!) and green eyes, just like my brother Mike. The other six (there are four male and three female in all) obey his lead, and it is enough sometimes to drive me to distraction.
Chiasmus is excessively attentive to proper and complex structures; he prides himself on his dandified appearance--which is quite ridiculous, because you cannot look like a dandy if you have a head of red curls, as he has--and fancies himself an authority on all matters of form. Really, I do not know how his former keeper managed him!
Simile, one of my sweeter fairies, is a delight to me. She is always drawing connections between things which I had not considered to be at all alike, but are. For example, today she murmured in my ear that dandelions are the jewels that Terra likes to put in her green hair, and it is a pity that the landscaping folk are so greedy as to pluck them out. I laughed and laughed. Simile's eyes are blue as the sea, and her wings flash green-blue, flecked with silver along the edges.
What shall I say about Asyndeton and Polysyndeton, my twins? I have taken to calling them Deton and Polly. Deton (I mean, Asyndeton) is older, and the boy, and he has to look after his twin sister. They are dear--both of them have blond curls and enormous gray eyes. The only trouble is that I cannot get Deton to use conjunctions, whereas Polly uses them far too much. I wish that they would learn from one another, but perhaps they will grow out of it.
Of the last two, Litotes is a bit of a wet blanket, but also quite sensible and gives disgustingly good advice. He has black hair and melancholy, velvet-black eyes. I keep telling him that I can advise myself, thank you, but he says that that's what everybody--by which I suppose he means his former keeper--thinks, and nobody can advise themselves really and I ought to listen to him. I was tempted to fetch a gag instead, but I don't have a handkerchief small enough.
My littlest Longaevi has the longest name, except for Paradoxus Maximus. She is Onomatopoeia, and I call her Posy. She is my darling, all pink and brown, with soft brown eyes and long dark curls and pink wings. Posy reminds me of Emma though; she is always getting into difficulties of some sort, and I cannot seem to make her siblings understand that baby Longaevi need to be looked after and not left to their own devices.
When they first came to me, of course, I asked Paradoxus what family of Longaevi they belonged to, and he looked offended and demanded to know whether I really couldn't tell right off that his nose was the nose of a Longaevus Rhetoricus, and obviously the family of Orator. I apologized, because I didn't know any better, and he's been lording it over me ever since.
They nest all over my room--Posy likes to sleep in my jewelry box--and air themselves outside while I am in Chapel (I had to explain quite sternly to Paradoxus that I cannot be distracted by Longaevi, of the family of Orator or otherwise, while I am trying to worship), and always come dashing to dance around me when I get out, and tell me what they found, or did, or discovered. Already once they have lost Posy in a hyacinth blossom.
I love them dearly, and would not trade them for anything in the world. But now I must go, because Paradoxus is eyeing my scissors, and I will not have him trying to "trim" Simile's hair for her again.
But they are always getting into trouble! There are seven of them, you know (Longaevi always go about in flocks of seven) and their leader (who is born, not made, he being the oldest of the siblings) is the most mischevious of all. His name is Paradoxus Maximus, and that is too much name for anybody whom I can hold in my hand. Paradoxus has unruly brown hair (but at least it is not curly! Chiasmus is bad enough in that respect!) and green eyes, just like my brother Mike. The other six (there are four male and three female in all) obey his lead, and it is enough sometimes to drive me to distraction.
Chiasmus is excessively attentive to proper and complex structures; he prides himself on his dandified appearance--which is quite ridiculous, because you cannot look like a dandy if you have a head of red curls, as he has--and fancies himself an authority on all matters of form. Really, I do not know how his former keeper managed him!
Simile, one of my sweeter fairies, is a delight to me. She is always drawing connections between things which I had not considered to be at all alike, but are. For example, today she murmured in my ear that dandelions are the jewels that Terra likes to put in her green hair, and it is a pity that the landscaping folk are so greedy as to pluck them out. I laughed and laughed. Simile's eyes are blue as the sea, and her wings flash green-blue, flecked with silver along the edges.
What shall I say about Asyndeton and Polysyndeton, my twins? I have taken to calling them Deton and Polly. Deton (I mean, Asyndeton) is older, and the boy, and he has to look after his twin sister. They are dear--both of them have blond curls and enormous gray eyes. The only trouble is that I cannot get Deton to use conjunctions, whereas Polly uses them far too much. I wish that they would learn from one another, but perhaps they will grow out of it.
Of the last two, Litotes is a bit of a wet blanket, but also quite sensible and gives disgustingly good advice. He has black hair and melancholy, velvet-black eyes. I keep telling him that I can advise myself, thank you, but he says that that's what everybody--by which I suppose he means his former keeper--thinks, and nobody can advise themselves really and I ought to listen to him. I was tempted to fetch a gag instead, but I don't have a handkerchief small enough.
My littlest Longaevi has the longest name, except for Paradoxus Maximus. She is Onomatopoeia, and I call her Posy. She is my darling, all pink and brown, with soft brown eyes and long dark curls and pink wings. Posy reminds me of Emma though; she is always getting into difficulties of some sort, and I cannot seem to make her siblings understand that baby Longaevi need to be looked after and not left to their own devices.
When they first came to me, of course, I asked Paradoxus what family of Longaevi they belonged to, and he looked offended and demanded to know whether I really couldn't tell right off that his nose was the nose of a Longaevus Rhetoricus, and obviously the family of Orator. I apologized, because I didn't know any better, and he's been lording it over me ever since.
They nest all over my room--Posy likes to sleep in my jewelry box--and air themselves outside while I am in Chapel (I had to explain quite sternly to Paradoxus that I cannot be distracted by Longaevi, of the family of Orator or otherwise, while I am trying to worship), and always come dashing to dance around me when I get out, and tell me what they found, or did, or discovered. Already once they have lost Posy in a hyacinth blossom.
I love them dearly, and would not trade them for anything in the world. But now I must go, because Paradoxus is eyeing my scissors, and I will not have him trying to "trim" Simile's hair for her again.
posted by Praelucor at 12:24 PM
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