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[He doesn't reply properly, and won't until he's read them, he just drops a simple note through her door.]

Renart,

Thank you.

James Barnes.

[She's pretty proud of the books written about her, and unabashedly proud of Beowulf's poem. Unlike her own, which highlights her terrible qualities, his poem sets his full heroism on display for everyone to enjoy. Who wouldn't be proud to have him as a friend?

She'll write him back happily.]

You're welcome. You'll have to tell me what you think of them sometime.

[He reads them almost at once, it feels like a big piece of something private that's been offered to him, even if Renart considers the stories about her to be something she's proud of.

It's actually a little disturbing.

Reynard the Fox seems to be a villain in the truest sense of the word. Despite being the protagonist of the stories, humiliating Noble and the others in the court of animals, he's a murderer and worse on many occasions. But obviously she's not the Reynard, she's a woman for one and has a human form, so he's not sure how this relates to her. Is this a case of being lost in translation? He knows the movies follow his life perfectly, so why don't these for her? Perhaps that's why she's less bothered by them, because there's errors.

Beowulf is one he enjoys a lot more. His goodness and genuine heroism shine through the archaic language, and he's strongly reminded of Steve. He can see why Beowulf would be someone to look up to.

It's late, two days later, when he slips up to her house and knocks on the door. He'll leave again if he hears anyone other than her inside.]

[Renart isn't expecting him to show up, let alone have read everything so quickly. Hardly a bad thing though, she appreciates a voracious reader, and in the Meadous it's not as if there is much else to do. No nine to five jobs, no huge social networks to maintain, no TV and internet to distract you.

Still, when she opens the door she blinks at him.]

Hello!

[And moves aside so Bucky can enter, closing the door behind him.]

Would you like some tea? I've got coffee, too.

[He shrugs, looking slightly uncomfortable.]

I've read the books you gave me.

[Because what is preamble and small talk?]

[She eyes him a little, before turning to head to the kitchen to make them some coffee. He's free to follow.]

You're very quick. What did you think of them?

I have some questions.

[How could he do otherwise than read them as fast as he could? They were the story of someone he's come to think of as a friend.]

From what I know of you, they don't seem like they're accurate. How close do they follow your life?

Some of them are more accurate than others. Humans like to exaggerate and anthropomorphize when it comes to animals. Beowulf's story overall followed his life more closely than my stories.

[She'll get a teapot on, and prep the french press.]

I liked his story, reminded me of Steve.

[They both have dumb friends who are too heroic for their own good.]

Renart-- the stories told me about murder and other ways of hurting people, did you really do that?

[She shrugs. Yeah, okay, he's going to be wondering about all of that. Maybe she should have given him a book that explains the symbolism and historical context of her stories.]

It sort of... depends. That one with Bruin was very similar to what happened. I was harassing a bear, he got stuck, and my gekkering drew the attention of some peasants.

[She doesn't feel bad about that one.]

Keep in mind we were all normal animals. We didn't actually have our own kingdom or monarchy, or human things like trials and executions. I was exceptionally clever, but I was still a regular fox. Humans just saw some of our antics and based the stories off them, or came up with entirely new ones.

[That actually makes him feel a bit better.

He knows that she's told him before that she used to be a fox, a proper one, but it hadn't really sunk in. To know these were tales that had been made up after watching animals and being inspired, it's different. Foxes don't have the morality of people, and so the tales can't be taken literally.]

I think I get it.

[It's still weird.]

So how did it change? How did you become-- who you are now?

[Aha, another personal subject. She's slowly getting better at explaining what she is. Frankly, it's a little easier to discuss when she doesn't have to worry about people naturally Forgetting about her. That and as she's the only Fairy Tale here, it means that she can explain it as she likes, without worrying about any other Tales barging in and offering their unwanted opinion.]

My stories became popular enough that after I died I became this. [She gestures towards her body.] We're called Fairy Tales. That healing I have is part of it.

As far as we've been able to tell it has to do with our lives being significant enough to become folklore or fairy tales, and enough of the human population believing in our tales to bring us back.

[This? This is far easier to discuss than her children. It isn't something she bothers talking about with most people, but she's comfortable enough with Bucky that she knows he won't get scared or angry about it, or think she's lying.]

[It's a bit far fetched, all magic and belief, but he doesn't think that she's lying. Just because his world doesn't work that way, it doesn't mean that hers doesn't, and he has some pretty far fetched things in his world too.]

I'm sorry.

[Probably not the response he should give, but it's what comes out all the same.]

That must be really hard, not to be given a choice and then suddenly-- suddenly you're not what you were before, and you're around for good.

You can relate to that, I bet.

[From what he's told her the similarities are there, which is unfortunate. Even though she's fine with being a Fairy Tale, it isn't something she'd want to see anyone go through. That they're friends makes it even worse.

She's getting a little more sober.]

It is what it is. I can't change how things are, and despairing over it doesn't do anyone any good.

[He nods, that's a fair attitude to have, but it doesn't always make it easier to think so logically.]

Would you?

[It's a quiet question with unusual gravity.]

If you could change how things are, and go back to what you were, would you do it?

[She's quiet for a few moments, but she has something of an answer. She has ever since Zephyr gave her her old body back.]

... I don't think so. I'd be trying to go back to a life that's long dead. Everything and everyone I knew back then is long gone, and I'd be abandoning what I've built up as a Fairy Tale.

[She certainly wouldn't be able to maintain the same kinds of relationships as a regular wild fox. Chances are she'd run off into the forests and live with the other foxes, avoiding people and only being concerned about food and raising kits.]

I'd be abandoning what humans gave me.

[That's where they differ.

He's glad, actually, to know that she feels that way. It means she's more accepting of who she is now, and maybe of the benefits she's gained from having this change. It might not make it less painful, but it might make it easier to bear the pain.]

If it's worth anything, I'm glad to have had the chance to meet you.

[He wouldn't have, if she were just a normal fox.]

It's worth a lot. [She smiles at him, despite this being such a depressing topic.] Relationships are just about all I have now.

[That's not a bad thing, of course.]

I'm guessing you'd go back if you could?

Mm.

[He's silent for a few moments, but he doesn't think she's going to tell John or freak out too much if he tells her a secret.]

There was someone in Norfinbury who had the ability to erase people from existence, before he died we made a deal that he'd erase me after I fell from the train. Guess he stayed dead, since I'm still here.

[That... is extreme. Very extreme. Frankly, she has to work to keep herself from being outwardly shocked and asking him what the fuck.

So there's mild surprise on her features, raising her eyebrows.]

You know, if he had followed through on that we wouldn't have had the chance to meet.

I know.

[He shrugs, expression neutral although his voice is slightly apologetic.]

Sometimes, in order to do the right thing, sacrifices have to be made.

[She chews on her lower lip.]

Why do you think it's the right thing?

You saw how quickly I tried to attack you, I haven't been a good guy.

[That was putting it incredibly mildly.]

[She sighs heavily. He's right, if she had been a normal human who knows what kind of damage he could have done.

Who knows what he's done to other people.]

As horrible as thing as making someone disappear is, I understand why you would want to do it.

You really think it's horrible if it's to save the world from something evil?

[Would she think it equally as terrible to disappear one of the more well known murderers, just because they didn't stick to the shadows as much?]

There are some people that the world would be better off without, I'm one of them.

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November 26th, evening

Re: November 26th, evening

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cw: suicide

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