Some of you might remember a certain goose named Clancee, and his owner Mortimer… well Mortimer has been plaguing my mind… his high-school self has decided to live in my head free rent. And in discovering more about him, I realized there was enough material for a good fall-themed dark academia romance short story. Researching albinism has just enhanced this desire more (although I’m realizing how many people hate the “albino villain” trope… whoops… well he has a redemption arc guys, I promise you that… and I am hoping that even though I’ve never met someone with albinism I can still write it respectfully and accurately) anyway, Morti and Iris get their own story, and it’s partially epistolary/partially first person (Morti wanted to tell it in journals, what can I say).
So enjoy <3
***
The Journal Entries of Mortimer Anhingas
October 1st,
I fear that fall is late in coming this year.
Normally, by the third week in September, Billington’s grounds are aflame in autumn colors. But not this year. It’s October, and everything simply looks… crispy.
Iris insists that as it is October and despite the eighty-degree weather we have to engage in the centuries-long tradition of drinking pumpkin spice lattes whenever we go to study at the coffee shop just outside of campus. In the four years I’ve known her, I’ve never had the heart to tell her that I hate the stuff. But it’s refreshing to see someone get excited about something so simple. Iris has the tendency to remind me of all the things I lack back home…
I think the birds are confused too. Half the species that should have migrated have stuck around– including the Snow Geese. They aren’t even supposed to be in this area, so maybe they are terribly mixed up. Half of them are molting, and a few of the females look like they’re considering nesting. I know that there was a research lab several miles away working on Snow Geese… perhaps they had too many and just decided to release them into the wild. The idiots.
Iris noticed the geese too, and immediately called her father, asking about it, and what we could do. He’s an ornithologist, as I’ve mentioned in previous journals. Apparently there isn’t much we can do besides observe. These are a particularly aggressive flock, unfortunately. With Snow Geese here I might actually be able to get DNA samples for my project on studying white and blue morph genetics where I actually have the technology to do a full study, but I got within ten feet and was sent running by a rather large gander with a very bad temperament. Iris laughed at me. She swears she didn’t, but I saw her trying to hide her mirth when I came back all frazzled.
Good grief, I’ve missed Iris. It’s only been three weeks since the school year and yet I feel more at home now than I did in the fourteen years and four summers I’ve been back in the States with my family.
She just…
She understands.
Or at least tries to, when she doesn’t.
That’s a lot more than a lot of people have done.
I’ve got to hurry down to breakfast.
~Mortimer Anhingas
***
The Mental Observations of Iris Gray
(October 1st)
I always like to go early to save seats in the corner of the Nookery for me and Mor, but this is the first time he’s been late to our morning study meeting.
I sigh, blowing at the steam over my coffee. More than likely, he went to check on the geese and got distracted, and I’ll hear all about it as soon as he sits down. Mor’s so quiet until you get him started on a topic, and then it’s hard to get a word in edgewise.
He’s kinda cute that way.
A flash of white hair startles me away from that rogue thought, and I struggle to fight back a blush as Mor stumbles through the door, tripping over his own feet a bit. He scans the room, and upon sighting me, his face colors a bit behind his sunglasses and he quickly runs over.
“Sorry,” he apologizes, his British-but-not-quite-native-British accent softening his tone. “Got caught up checking on the geese.”
I try not to smirk. “How are they this morning?”
He frowns, lips pressed in a thin line.
“One of the yearling females is definitely nesting.”
I sigh. “I was worried about that.”
“It’s so late in the season. The eggs might not even be fertile, but if some of them are and some of them aren’t…” He takes off his sunglasses, rubbing the corners of his eyes. “It’s going to be a terrible mess.”
“It’s not like we can force them to migrate either.” I bite my lower lip. “I’m at a loss, Mor. I’m not sure what we can do.”
He stares intently at the wall, thinking as he fidgets with the collar of his sweater vest. His good eye ticks for a second, then he glances back at me.
“Maybe we go there when it’s dark, and they’re asleep, and take the eggs. We’ve got incubators in the science department. Without a nest, and with the assumption that there are predators, maybe it will convince the geese to move on.”
I consider his idea for a minute. “It isn’t a bad plan.” I fold my hands. “What if there are fertile eggs?”
He shrugs. “I’ve been wanting to study Snow Goose genetics. I wouldn’t mind raising any left behind goslings.”
Imagining Mor with a handful of Snow Goose goslings is a startlingly adorable mental image and I can’t help but smile.
“Okay, but leave at least one for me to study imprinting behaviors.” I stir my coffee. “An experiment with imprinting will nicely round out my term paper.”
“Fair enough.” He looks back at the counter, rubbing his temple. “I should probably get some coffee. Haven’t had mine yet today and I’m already getting a caffeine headache.”
“Pumpkin spice,” I nod.
I smother a giggle as a brief wince flickers on his face before he nods. “Of course. What else is there?”
He goes to the counter and I press the back of my hand to my mouth to keep myself from cackling.
The fact that he’s pretended to like pumpkin spice all this time I’ve known him when he so obviously hates it, just to indulge in my obsession and try to share in my excitement…
I haven’t had the heart to call him out. It’s too enjoyable.
I try to rub away the blush from my face, burying my head in my hands as I try to regain composure.
Ah, Mortimer…
Four years, and that boy still gives me butterflies in my stomach. Unlike him, however, I can hide my blushing.
Maybe this could be the year…
I shake that thought aside, just as Mortimer comes back with his pumpkin spice latte.
Fibs about pumpkin spice lattes are one thing.
But my friendship with him is too precious to risk.
Even if my crush on him since freshman year has only turned into deeper affection every semester.
“How would you suggest sneaking over to the nest at night without waking up the ganders?” he asks, oblivious to the tangle of emotions and thoughts in my head.
I pull out a notebook.
“Well, let’s brainstorm some ideas.”
Ooh! I love it! Amazing job!
This makes my heart very happy.