Autumn Pt. 01 Ch. 01

The funny thing was that his older brother wasn't even on his worst behavior. It just didn't make much difference whether he dialed it back a bit or not. When he wasn't questioning Frank's masculinity, or suggesting that he'd eaten enough already, Dom was getting under someone else's skin. Which was even worse, in a way. Frank actually wished his brother would focus all his fire on him, seeing as he'd built up more of an immunity over the years than everyone else had. That, or go of and take a nap of his own.

It wasn't just his older brother, though. At one point or another, Frank had wanted to mute just about every person at that table. It didn't matter that they were all perfectly tolerable on their own, at least in small doses. Having them at the same table was like playing five songs at the same time, all at max volume and on infinite repeat. That a few had been fairly annoying to begin with didn't help, but it wasn't the main issue.

Frank had found it nearly as exasperating as Brianna herself must have, for example, when Grandpa Dick had asked why she wasn't touching any of the dishes with meat in them and then had proceeded to lecture her about protein. Granted, the girl had only gone vegan eleven fucking years ago, so it was totally reasonable to think that she might change her mind if someone just presented an argument she hadn't heard before.

"I'm just saying it's curious that all you have to do is get through boot camp and people make it sound like they owe everything they have to you personally," Dom had said at one point. "As if there are any real threats to our way of life right now, anyway."

Todd had scoffed at that, but thankfully had also seemed to find the comment more amusing than offensive. Their grandfather was a different story, though. If his mouth hadn't been full at the time, he'd probably have gone off on the guy.

Would that have had some entertainment value? A little schadenfreude? Perhaps. By that point, though, Frank had stomached enough of their grandfather's moralizing.

"Meanwhile, those of us who literally power the global economy are seen as capitalist pigs," Dom had continued. "This nice dinner? Try making it without any imported ingredients. Without trade, we'd be a lot poorer; and without finance, there'd be no trade."

The was no question that Dom was a pig, but it was true that his job wasn't the reason. Much as it pained Frank to agree with the guy, he'd definitely thought a valid point lurked beneath his brother's hyperbole. Middle America's valorization of all things military, coupled with its vilification of global finance, struck Frank as more than a little perverse.

He still hadn't felt the need to come to his brother's defense, though.

Not even after their grandfather had trotted out the old "if it weren't for brave men in uniform, you wouldn't have the freedom to express that opinion" shibboleth. Playing Whack-a-Mole in the Middle East for more than a decade was hardly the reason people were allowed to disagree with their family members in private. If it had ever been true that a powerful military was necessary to ensure basic freedoms, say by preventing the Nazis and their fascist allies from conquering the entire world, that time had long passed.

Thankfully, they hadn't spend much time arguing about the military. They had, however, debated the causes of the Great Recession ad nauseam. Frank probably should have been impressed that Brianna and Grandpa Dick had found some common ground there, but hearing the far left and the far right agree that it would be best to burn the country's financial infrastructure to the ground hadn't exactly warmed his heart.

At one point, Frank had suggested that it might be best if they didn't discuss anything remotely political at the dinner table. The problem wasn't that anyone disagreed, though; it was that they couldn't help themselves. Which was as true of Frank as the rest of them.

A few minutes later, he'd answered a rhetorical question from Aunt Liz about why department stores were open on Harvest Eve. The Star Wars prequels had come closer to winning her over than his explanation had, even though she wasn't nearly as traditionalist about geekery as she was grammar. Thankfully, his aunt was too polite to tell him what she thought of anyone who defended commercialism run amok.

Frank could have predicted her reaction, had he but given the slightest thought to whether he should open his mouth. Why had he bothered, then? For the same reason he'd reached for one of her cupcakes immediately afterwards—a lack of self-control.

Well, that, and he'd sort of hoped the unspoken compliment would repair some of the damage damage. Which it had, fortunately enough. At least after his sister had seen the treat and started gushing over the level of detail on the frosted leaves and acorns.

Sensing an opportunity, Frank had then told their aunt that if she ever got tired of teaching, she should open a bakery. Uncle Bobby had even weighed in, saying, "I've been telling her that for years. You can't blame her for wanting to have autumns off, though."

That was the most he'd said since arriving. Dom and Todd were right that their uncle had about as much personality as a head of broccoli, but there were worse things that could be said about a person. Including some of the ones at that table.

"I'd run the place into the ground within a week," Aunt Liz had replied.

"Especially if you closed for Harvest Eve," Natalie had said. "Right, Frank?"

So, yeah, by the time they'd finished eating, he was done in every other sense as well.

Unfortunately, they had a tradition of playing board games after dessert.

"Can we at least play something more exciting than Trivial Pursuit?" he asked.

It was too bad that synchronized staring wasn't an Olympic event, otherwise his mother, Aunt Liz, and Grandma Noreen would be gold medalists.

"Now you've done it," his younger brother said with a laugh. "Dishonor the military? No biggie. Defend horrible business practices? That's what we expect from a future economist. Go after Trivial Pursuit, though, and the pitchforks come out."

"Watch it, you," their mother told him, "or he won't be alone in the stockade."

Before Todd could reply, a familiar wind descended upon them.

Well, it hadn't felt familiar at first, but Frank remembered it and the strange palace by the time it stopped blowing. That didn't make it any less disorienting to be hurtled across time and space, or for his consciousness to be transferred into a totally different body, but at least he wasn't left with the same sense of shock and confusion as before.

One thing was different, though—the air was heavy with something very calming. Frank felt like he was being massaged by expert hands, except not on a physical level. He knew he was being manipulated, yet he couldn't help but relax. Perhaps not completely, but his skeptical impulse was definitely misfiring. He didn't think he could have panicked if he tried.

Silver-trimmed tapestries hung on the walls to one side, and crescent moons were carved into the basalt. To his right, Frank found marble walls with bas-relief sunbursts and paintings in gilded frames. Some depicted wondrous landscapes, others fruits he could not name. Some of which were silver or gold, Frank noted. Four busts sat atop pedestals, two on either side of the room. One was of the same noblewoman in the painting he'd seen earlier. It had to be; the alabaster carving had gold hair, gold lips, and the same proud cheekbones. Her husband had such strikingly similar features that Frank almost thought that was her brother. The two to his left, carved from lapis lazuli, also looked remarkably alike. Their hair was a metallic purple so dark it was nearly black and the woman's lips were silver.

Never in his life had Frank been surrounded by such beauty. He didn't have an eye for art or architecture, but if he'd been the only one there, he might have pushed his chair back and walked around the banquet hall so he could marvel at everything properly. A cursory examination would have to do, though, because another form of beauty lined the table.

Some of their transformations weren't all that dramatic, he noted. Brianna looked pretty much the same as she had before. Her frizz and freckles were gone, as were her glasses, but any cosmologist could take his cousin from pretty to drop-dead gorgeous in relatively little time. The damn girl had always been a chick-flick-makeover waiting to happen.

Much the same went for his sister, though no one had ever accused Natalie of neglecting her appearance. As easy on the eyes as the version sitting across the table from him was, Frank had to admit that Natalie looked pretty much the way she did now whenever she went out on a Friday night. True, his sister couldn't get her makeup to look that natural no matter how much time she spent in front of the mirror, nor could a professional hairstylist make her mane resemble melted chocolate so perfectly. Her lips might have become a little fuller, her eyes wider and her lashes longer, but his kid sister had been a knockout for quite some time. Frank just hadn't let himself notice. Not even when she wore yoga pants that looked like they'd been painted on. Well, okay, maybe he had noticed that she had a serious bubble butt. And fairly nice tits. And a pretty face.

He'd tried not to, though. That had to count for something, right?

Part of him had really believed, up until that very moment, that he'd never been attracted to his sister. Yet he suddenly realized that was total and complete horse shit.

Or did it only feel that way now because he could no longer fathom how any guy could look at his sister and not get hard? If Brianna was so gorgeous that it hurt to look at her for too long, Nat was so pretty that it hurt to look away.

Their brothers looked more or less the same as well. They'd received a few upgrades, of course, but the wind had basically proclaimed that neither had much room for improvement. Because of course it had; only old people and doughy dorks needed major transformations.

Unless Frank was wrong about how the transformations worked, and he didn't think he was. It was like the wind had blown inside their heads then taken everything it had found there into account when transforming them—their attitudes about gender, their insecurities, how strongly they desired attention, and probably even their favorite colors. A few nods to their true selves had been made, for the sake of verisimilitude, but each and every one of them was basically perfect now—as they defined it. Anyone who hadn't changed all that much, then, had been pretty close to begin with. Neither of his brothers needed to have their views on the matter confirmed like that, but they had been, because life was fair.

Todd was a Marine and thus in great shape to begin with; the wind had exaggerated his physique, making it all the more worthy of envy, but not by much. There was simply no need. His shoulders were a little broader, his muscles slightly more defined, but none of that compared to the way Frank's body had changed. Heck, the biggest change his brother had undergone concerned the length of his hair. It still didn't hang down to his shoulders, the way it had during his drummer days, but the regulation high and tight was gone. One could actually tell that his hair was blond now, which was a trait that came from their father's side of the family but not one the man himself possessed. Perhaps Todd's face had inched even closer to beautiful, features sharpening and gray eyes coming to resemble steel rings more than ever before, but he'd always just a little too pretty for the word "handsome" to do him justice. Not that anyone ever questioned his masculinity.

Dom, on the other hand, was most definitely handsome—now more so than ever. There was also something darker and more predatory to his visage. Todd had always been the sort of guy that girls just gravitated towards, even before he'd put on the uniform; all he had to do was flash a smile and people felt like they could trust him. Dom was more or less the opposite. His dark eyes, prominent brow, angular jaw, and sly grin promised nothing but trouble, and he never failed to deliver on that promise. Yet while girls knew they should keep their distance from him, they never actually managed to do so.

That a large number of women would fall prey to his brother was easy to believe, but Frank was always surprised by which ones did. There was no particular type that was most prone to succumbing. Young or old, single or married, wild and fun-loving or prim and reserved; it didn't seem to matter. Dom's list of conquests—and, yes, there was a literal list, kept it on his Facebook page where anyone could see it—included two of Todd's girlfriends; one of Frank's; the wives of several of their father's friends; a slew of high school teachers, college professors, and TAs; and an assistant district attorney who should have convicted him of statutory rape for banging one of Nat's friends. Almost all of whom had known about his history of treating women like achievements to be unlocked in some app.

Shit, that was probably half the appeal. How many of his conquests had convinced themselves that they'd be the one to finally tame the wolf? That something about them was sooo special that Dom would change his ways just to be with her? The married ones presumably hadn't expected that, but who the fuck knew.

That was all before the wind had made him leaner and more muscular, filled out his jaw even more, and turned his hair into black silk. Dom had been fairly fit to begin with, if not on Todd's level, but now he was every bit as lean as the youngest of the three brothers. The two of them had freaking eight-pack abs, which Frank hadn't realized was a thing. At least his older brother hadn't bulked up as much as he had. That was one point in Frank's favor.

Too bad most women didn't want more bulk than Dom had to offer.

Curiously enough, his brothers' tattoos had changed. Dom's tribal band now stretched from shoulder to elbow, and the Marine Corps insignia on Todd's chest had become a scarecrow that was more reminiscent of the Grim Reaper than the jolly figure associated with Harvest Day. What that meant, though, if anything, was unclear.

The older members of the family had changed even more than Frank had. Some were almost unrecognizable. If Frank hadn't already seen the windswept version of his mother, he'd have had no hope of telling her apart from her sister and her mother. Well, he supposed it did help that everyone seemed to be sitting in the same place as before, and that one of them was dressed more conservatively than the others, but the three of them still looked a great deal alike. Anyone who didn't know better would refuse to believe that one of them was actually the mother. At first blush, they looked to be of an age, just a few years older than Nat or Brianna. Whereas those two looked like teenagers, and one of them actually was, the raven-haired trio appeared to be in their early to mid-twenties—until one looked closer and became fascinated by their agelessness. Crow's feet and laugh lines testified to their wisdom and experience, yet their skin was otherwise firm and radiant, each alabaster complexion utterly flawless. There was less fat in their cheeks than in the younger women's, yet more than here had been before the wind had picked up.

Frank could no longer say that look was unique, having seen it in triplicate, but that didn't make it any less arresting. He was tempted to say that all three were prettier than Nat. They didn't rival Brianna, because his cousin was in a class all her own, but he'd gladly argue with anyone who claimed that his sister's rather conventional beauty trumped that surreal blend of youth and maturity. Which was no knock against Natalie.

All that really set their faces apart was how they wore their hair and makeup. Oh, there differences even at the structural level—his grandmother and his aunt were a little leaner and more muscular than his mother, and his grandmother's lips were a little thinner and more bowed than the uniformly thick beauties possessed by his mother and his aunt—but such things were easily overlooked. Two had bright red lips, one the color of bricks. Two had long hair, while the other's was medium-length and worn in a crisp bob. A different two had straight hair; his grandmother's was almost as curly as Brianna's. Her eyeshadow contained a dozen shades of green, his mother's was dark and smoky, but his aunt only had a little black eyeliner along her lash line and a touch of white on the upper lids.

That probably should have appealed him most, given his alleged disdain for such embellishments, but Frank couldn't possibly find any aspect of any woman's appearance superior to his mother's. His aunt's aesthetic did suit her, though. Flattering, yet tasteful.

Finally, there was Grandpa Dick and Uncle Bobby. Those two could not only be mistaken for brothers but twins. They had the same auburn hair and full beards, with silver at the temples and around the chins, flinty gray eyes, and too-masculine-to-be-pretty-but-still-fine features. Even Dom looked plain-faced compared to them, though Todd might not have anything to envy. Except for the way their facial hair bore no resemblance to peach fuzz.

They were the absolute epitome of the distinguished older gentleman. While they didn't have the strange, simultaneously-young-yet-mature look of the raven-haired trio, few men as old as his uncle and his grandfather appeared to be could claim to have aged as well.

Frank had no trouble admitting that they were crazy handsome—at least not to himself. Were he to say as much aloud, his brothers' homophobia would make them mock him.

"So have we decided what game we're playing?" Todd asked, breaking the silence. Several pairs of eyes settled on him, and he flashed a smile. Smarmy as it was, the last thing that should have done was put anyone at ease. Todd being Todd, though, it did just that.

"How about Two Truths and a Lie?" Grandma Noreen suggested.

Almost immediately, Dom said, "That's a great idea."

Was it, though? It sounded pretty lame to Frank. Some of his fellow TAs used that game on the first day of class, as an icebreaker. They claimed that the students loved it, but Frank was willing to bet that most would have preferred to pick up a copy of the syllabus and go. He certainly would have, in their shoes. Besides, everyone at that table knew each other fairly well. How much trouble would any of them have sniffing out the lie?

A quick glance over at Uncle Bobby revealed that he was somewhat less than enthused as well. He was no quicker than Frank to suggest that they stick with Trivial Pursuit, though.

"No other objections, then?" the self-appointed master of ceremonies asked. Before anyone could respond, Grandma Noreen said, "Excellent. Then I'll explain the rules."

Frank snorted. "Pretty much all there in the title."

His grandmother smiled. "Some of us might not have played before." After Frank held his hands up in surrender, she proceeded to state the obvious—one person would make three statements about themselves and then the next had to guess which wasn't true.

"What if someone lies about which one they lied about?" Todd asked, looking at Dom.

Grandma Noreen frowned. "They won't get all of their presents tomorrow morning."

Dom scoffed. "Who gets to decide whether the accused is guilty or innocent?" he asked, because in some universe he was the one who was always getting picked on by his siblings.

Their mother cleared her throat. "Let's not worry about that. I'm sure it won't even come up, seeing as no one here would even dream of cheating," she said, staring intently at the youngest of her sons. That couldn't have been a preemptive accusation, though; not in any sane world. Todd had his faults, but cheating had never been among them.