Autumn Natasha Buckland

[Autumn Buckland]

The easy S T U F F . . .

Name: Autumn Natasha Buckland
Nickname: Autie, Tutu, Dollface
Age: 14
Member Group: Student
Power(s): Plant Manipulation, Photosynthesis
Play By: Lily Cole

Let it F L O W . . .

Winter


Thickets of snow blanketed the pathways the gypsies had taken many years before. A small, 7 year old girl peered out the caravan window as the flakes twinkled and settled on the frame, and she blew hot air against the glass, drawing a smiley face with her small index finger. Her gappy smile – her milk teeth were falling out- brightened as she saw her mother and father returning across the snow with their border collie, Danjadan. Their arms were laden with firewood as they entered the caravan, and the dog leapt into her arms, barking delightedly to return to his young mistress.

A few minutes later, and the fire in the small stove began to brighten again, and the caravan filled with a new warmth. The girl kicked off her furry boots and settled against the small loveseat in the window. This home, her family and travelling companions were all she had ever known since the day she was born. Her uncle had delivered her into the world, her grandmother had taught her how to read, write and count. Even her grandpapa had taught her how to ribbon dance and sing sweetly for passers by, and as she grew older, she joined in with the dog tricks, and rode horses. The money they collected from passers by was important, her mother had told her. The money was what kept food on the table, and coal for the fire, it's what paid for the small black and white TV in the larger caravan.

But winter was hard for money. No one wanted to watch the gypsies perform their arts, buy their bracelets and listen to their folk songs. Winter was when the Buckland family battened the hatches, used their knowledge of the wilds to trap rabbits and deer for food, and used cheap bags of potatoes and carrots to bulk the meals out. It was odd, but the little girl never complained about these meals, their simpleness was familiar, as was the lovely smell from her Grandparents caravan. As Danjadan licked her hands, she rose and quietly took warm oats out to the horses, who had to stand out in the cold, draped in warming blankets.

“Heya Rosie, Billy, Zulu, Campher!” She called, shaking the bucket of oats and beaming when the cobs appeared. There were other horses that pulled the old style caravans, but they had been released for the time being, while the gypsies settled in till the winter snows melted. The oats were gone in next to no time, and though the girl's teeth were chattering from the cold, and her cheeks were red, she laughed and ran around the field with the collie, waving eagerly to her cousins and extended family. She loved this life. The life of freedom, no stuffy classrooms, just family, and the old ways.



Spring

Bluebells were Autumn's favourite flower. Their little purplly bonnets, nodding softly in the wind as tousled the branches, and the tiny buds of spring blossoms. The girl sat on the step of the caravan with her fingers tangled with string and little carved stone beads. She sang quietly to herself as the bracelet came together, and occasionally looked up with a sigh. The birds were singing their own little songs in the trees, and the wonderful smell of the sweet horse breath as Rosie snorted and chewed on the fresh spring grass was settling. Finishing up, she admired the pretty bracelet, and headed over to her Aunt, lying the bracelet down on the little table by the roadside with a smile.

“Thank you Dollie.” The woman said with a fond chuckle, pinching the girl's cheeks with a thumb and finger, then ruffling her red hair. “It's another beautie.” Bowing her head and laughing, the young girl disappeared back through the hedges back to the main caravan. Sure, the work wasn't exactly exciting, but she felt helpful as she started on yet another bracelet, petting Danjadan who sat by her feet. Pushing her fringe back out of her eyes, the girl tutted and grabbed for a bandana, pulling it back across her forehead and sagging into the damp grass, soaking her dress and tights as she weaved. Nothing in particular passed through her mind as the young girl continued her task, occasionally picking up the hiss of old wind up radio as her grandfather tried to tune it in to some station for the news.

The Buckland family had been travellers, gypsies, or, more insultingly, pikeys and scroungers, all their family's life. Through several generations, the gypsy family had gone from strength to strength, but had sworn as people never to give up the old ways. They frowned upon these new travellers, those that drove cars, didn't respect the land, and stole from the village folk. They turned in disgust from those who had forsaken the old ways and now were little more than robbers and cheats, with no education and no common sense. Indeed, Autumn's grandmama, Sabina, had actually picked up an education one year, long long ago. The Buckland family had decided to settle in a village for the winter, and, great grandma Lucy (May she rest in peace) had decided to pack Sabina off to the school.

Of course, Sabina had struggled with this new, enclosed way of living, and wrinkled her nose at such things. But her mother had persisted, saying “My little Sabi, maybe one day you could take care of the family better than we can now!” And with that, Sabina had decided to take the lessons seriously. So seriously, in fact, that she had managed to receive a basic education, enough to keep her smart and sharp, and this, along with several books she had managed to buy with money dancing on the streets, had given her what she needed to teach others. Her mother, so proud of her daughter for making the effort, decided to keep the family within the village till she had passed the first five years of school.

Autumn was a smart girl. She loved learning about those things her grandmother had taught, and had spent many hours paging through the hand-me-down textbooks, teaching herself as much as she could possibly know. She knew long words, like “Arithmetic” and “Unconventional” and she could do long multiplication and knew her times tables well. It was Sabina's determination to raise her family like her mother had wanted, that had given the Buckland family their edge. They weren't rich, and they weren't the smartest people, but they knew enough to get them by. And, much like her grandmother, Autumn had gained a thirst for knowledge that a few textbooks and stories could not quench. She had to find another way to learn, before her head exploded.




Summer

It was sticky and hot at the camp in the evening, as the extended family took their chairs out into the main clearing in the center of the caravans. Slow guitar thrumming, and the feel of grass between her toes, all things Autumn recalled well about summer. As the 11 year old's fingers drew imaginary patterns along with the gentle mumble of her Uncle's singing voice, she began to imagine what it would be like to live in a world that stayed this beautiful forever. Her hair was stuck to her face from a light sheen of sweat, but other than that, everything felt so serene, even as the sun slowly disappeared behind the deep horizon. Danjadan rose lazily from his position by the empty dinner plates, and headed out into the trees by the furthest caravan, and, curious, Autumn followed.

She imagined, as the leaves crunched against her bare feet, and sticks snapped under her weight, that she was Alice, from Alice in Wonderland, disappearing down the rabbit hole as she had been read so many times as a child. She heard her mother call for her not to wander too far, but she pooh-poohed it as she continued to explore the trees, following loyally after the collie. Eventually, as he'd sat down at a small thicket of ash trees, the red headed girl settled down and let out a sigh. “Why are we here, Danja?” She asked softly, leaning her head back against the nearest tree. “You didn't just go out here to pee, right?” Autumn laughed and petted the panting dog's head, ruffling his ears beneath her small hands.

It was at this point that a small movement caught her eye. Looking up and squinting in the dusky gloom, the girl tried to distinguish what had shifted, but in the light, it was pointless, and she merely dismissed it as perhaps an owl waking from it's roost. Danjadan seemed to also be looking up where she had glanced, but with a keenness that even Autumn could not match. Draping her arms over her knees and yawning, the red head was about to get up when the movement happened again, to the left of her this time, and she frowned, slightly uncomfortable by this. “Danja?” She said, her voice buzzing with nervous excitement.

“No.” Said a low, grumbly voice. “You're leaning on my face.”
Jumping backwards and scattering sticks and leaves everywhere, Autumn looked round her with large eyes, her lips parted. The collie was also standing up, but staring at her, as if she was the source of all this madness. “I'm sorry, I'm leaning on who's face?” She mumbled, her voice soft and frightened.

“Mine.” Said the voice again. And, though Autumn looked all around, she couldn't see who on earth was talking to her. That was, until a large branch moved down beside her, and curled fresh smelling leaves about her. It was almost like a horror film, or something from one of the read-aloud stories she'd been given as a birthday present. Petrified, the girl screamed, and struggled in amongst the leaves. “Don't be afraid. You made me move.” The low voice said, with slight amusement.

“You're a tree.” Autumn spoke with disbelief, still frightened of this sudden oddness. “And I made you move? And talk?”

“Yes.” Said the tree. “You're special.”




Autumn

Autumn had not been an easy girl to find by any meta school. For one, her family were almost always on the move, for two, her Aunt and Grandmother preferred herbal remedies to any “doctor's junk” and for three, they believed their gifted daughter was simply in tune with nature. But, Autumn's free life was soon to be changed to one of captivity. After her 12th birthday, the young girl had caught a terrible bug. Bed ridden, and drawing her food only from the sun and the water she'd been able to keep down, the herbal medicines had done nothing for her. Her father had taken one of the cobs and rode into the village, demanding that a doctor come see his sickly daughter immediately.

After many blood tests, and a set of strong antibiotics, Autumn was back on her feet again, and was mid weaving a winter blanket when another car had pulled up near the caravan site. Her mother pulled off her apron from cooking and headed over with her hands on her hips. The two adults were having a heated discussion, and though the red head desperately strained her ears to hear, she simply could not. Shrugging to herself, she returned to her blanket, and assumed it was another rude man telling them they didn't belong here. Generally, after this, they'd move on, not wanting to cause trouble with the locals. However, the sound of crunching autumn leaves under two pairs of feet told her that this was different, and she looked up expectantly, wondering what on earth was wrong.

“Autumn, this man wants to take you away.” Her mother said, with her hands still on her hips. “He says you're special and nee d to go to a special school.” The woman shot the man a glare, and shook her head. “I say you're staying here, but he wants to talk to you.” And with that, Autumn's mother bustled off, to rouse the rest of the family into fending this strange man off their site and away from their beloved little Dollie.

“Why do you want to take me away?” Autumn asked with her eyebrows raised, hands still on her blanket. “I haven't done anything wrong, and my grandmama teaches me everything I need to know. I can add, subtract, read, write, and I know some history too.” Her voice was almost desperate as the man sat beside her on the steps of the caravan.

“You're right, you haven't done anything wrong.” The man said softly. “But you have a gift. The blood tests the doctor did when you were sick showed us this. You need to be trained up and taken care of in an environment where you can be with other people like yourself.” His face was kindly, and though Autumn didn't trust him one tiny bit, she couldn't seem to shout or raise her voice angrily to him. “You can talk to plants and make them grow, and do things, can't you, Autumn?” He asked gently, fidgetting with his suit.

“Yes.” Autumn said, resigned. “But I don't want to go to a place with people like me! I like my family, I like my caravan, I like Danjadan and the horses and I like making blankets and I don't want to go to no place with four walls and a stuffy load of people who hate me and leave this place!” Curling her toes against the step, the red head pouted and stared imploringly at the man. “Really. I'm fine! The trees are nice and the plants grow and do neat stuff, and I don't have to eat much which is good 'cause sometimes we're hard up for food.” She wound her arms around the collie, who licked at her fingers, and whined softly.

Of course, it was Grandmama Sabina who said it was best for Autumn to go. Though the family had many heated discussions over the next few days, the man would return each and every evening to talk to them all. He insisted it was important, that Autumn could be in danger if anyone outside the family found out about her powers. That she could train her skills and return as soon as she was ready. The young girl protested till her cheeks were red and her eyes were sore, but Sabina spoke to her softly, telling her of everything she could accomplish with this opportunity, and that the family would write to her regularly, telling her where they were, how they were doing, and an address she could write to in return.

It was that night, as Autumn drove away from the camp site, and all she had ever known, that her blue eyes turned green. The man said that was the photosynthesis changing her, and smiled warmly at her as final waving hand of her mother disappeared from view. Autumn curled her knees up to her chin and cried.

Behind the M A S K . . .

Name: Insane. No, Chezuu, really.
Age: 20
RP Experience: A while
How did you find us?: Cupcakes

Show your S K I L L S . . .

Once upon a time Chez was insane and had six other characters for Tony to look at for skill. The end.

[Admin!]

ACCEPTED!
Congratulations, you made James feel guilty. Hit the CLAIMS.