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[attr="class","title-atha"] SOULMATE GOOSE AU

[attr="class","subtitle-atha"] 'CAUSE YOU'RE A NATURAL
A BEATING HEART OF STONE
YOU GOTTA BE SO COLD
TO MAKE IT IN THIS WORLD

[attr="class","wordz-atha"]Some people had a goose, some people didn’t. Most people listened to their goose.

Athazaz had found his goose as a child (or more accurately, his goose had found him), and he’d striven to become friends with the bird. Amelia had never had a goose, one of the few who didn’t. His mother steadfastly ignored her goose, and his father’s goose had met a tragic accident. That really wasn’t supposed to happen, but accidents had a way of happening around his grandmother.

Atha was used to his goose, and quite fond of them. At the age of six, he’d solemnly dubbed the bird Pecker. His mother had cackled at the name and refused to tell him why. His father had also refused and it had turned to Amelia and him, six year olds who were discovering the Internet. Unfortunately, the name had stuck by then.

His was different than most of his classmates. Most of them had Canadians, vicious and full of anger. Atha’s was small enough to be a dove, brightly colored on the wings, and Atha had not realized the duck following him around and jabbing at his ankle was his goose. But they’d reached a sort of alliance now, where the goose was mostly cooperative, and didn’t start ramming their beak into his ankle every time Atha took a step in the wrong direction.

At least, Atha hoped so. Pecker had been quiet during the college application process. Atha had been expecting that to be the bitch: his grades, while good, were not enough for the colleges his soulmate was probably attending. He’d tried, he really had. His Chemistry ACT score had been a 32, and the rest had been fairly decently, though far lower. He’d scored fairly well on his SAT, though admittedly not so well. They had certainly been good enough for a fair amount of colleges. He’d lucked out during the exam, as some unfortunates had had the mischance of meeting their soulmates while taking the exams, even as everyone’s goose was quarantined off. The geese had burst into the room, legend said, and began viciously beating their humans, dragging them to the hallway.

But Pecker wasn’t like that. Maybe it was the distance between himself and his soulmate: Pecker’s breed of goose was more common in Africa, Asia, Australia. That wasn’t too uncommon in itself, that his goose wasn’t native, but he’d always had the smallest goose. Father had taken Athazaz on as many trips as he could to see if they could find the country or person earl, and Pecker had raised no enthusiasm. Pecker had barely raised a wing when Athazaz had sent out his applications to schools in the country, rather than a school he might have a higher chance of meeting his soulmate.

Amelia had also gone to school in the city, and was excelling in Columbia University. The New School had been more of Athazaz’s style, and he was enjoying interdisciplinary science. He was engaged, enthused, and swept up into the casual college life of similarly-energetic people. Lazy fall days were now filled with friends and their geese spilling out of their classes and around the city. He wasn’t too bothered about much, carefree and happy and lazy, his anxiety managed by his long-time therapist.

Athazaz’s therapist had recently been hired by NYU and more often than not, Atha would sprint from his class to his sessions. He should probably try to take a class or two, maybe. Some courses the New School didn’t have. A lot of people-- his sister, his parents, his grandmothers-- were surprised when he’d chosen the New School over Cornell, over Barnard. But he liked liberal arts, liked the opportunities the New School offered. Still, he. . . he needed to take courses at other schools, and if his advisor could arrange it, NYU might be as good as any.

But he didn’t have a session today, and it was still a nice enough day that Athazaz could enjoy the sun, could soak in what light was left before his next class. Pecker might enjoy the time squabbling with the other geese in the fountain, or wander off to one of the goose ponds. But whatever Atha’s plans were, Pecker suddenly had other plans. Pecker let out an angry squawk! that Athazaz had come to associate with arguing for food, fighting with another goose, or picking a pigeon for a rival.

A sharp, insistent tug on his pants leg, and Atha frowned. Pecker let out several more angry noises, flapping up to peck at every part of Atha that could be reached. “Ow! Get off-- Off, Pecker! Down!”

His pleas were to no avail as the goose continued to attack, smacking limbs and face and joints with beak and wing. Pecker had never been so aggressive, not even when Atha had tried treating the goose for lice, and that had indeed been an adventure. Pecker let out another angry squak, one that Atha was fairly certain was new.

“I have class in half an hour-- stop!”

Pecker continued to refuse to listen, fastening beak on hand, and Athazaz let off a yowl, tugging the bird off. He was sure he looked a mess, attacked by his suddenly even-more aggressive goose. Pecker flapped, bit at Athazaz’s pant leg and snatched at some ankle. Atha bit off a hiss. “I’ll follow! Okay, I’ll go!”

This better be for real, and you better not be in New Jersey. Athazaz would prefer to transfer at 42nd Street, or throw himself into the Hudson over having to take NJ Transit, much less NJ Transit with an angered goose.

[attr="class","tags-atha"]☆ @nick , 940 words ☆