#the bell keeper did it (apparently) because of a lack of interest

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Going buckwild at the way Hilda The Series portrays adulthood and loneliness. Kaisa has no one to go to to ask for help getting the due book back, even though all it would take was someone she could minimally ask to knock on an elderly lady’s door and ask for a favour; she’s in the library after hours, is shown to have no allies aside from the woman who raised her and who she lost contact with. Johanna is only ever seen working or caring for Hilda, and her lack of a life aside from those two activities is pointed out by her own daughter when she thinks that this is going so far as to affect their relationship. The bell keeper lives alone in a small cabin on the edge of town, barely within city limits and away from everyone, a house barely even inhabitable and clearly only a place to sleep and eat. He works a solitary job and he’s the only one in the town still working it, meaning he’s probably overworked and forced to pull inhumanly long shifts. Victoria hyperfocused so hard on her projects that whatever friends she had before - and she must have had some from college time at least - lost contact with her, and she never made any other connections in Trolberg, anything that would tie her to the city and it’s inhabitants and make it so it wasn’t worth it to live by herself at the top of a hill. Even when that was over, she still chose to isolate herself somewhere abandoned and keep what was essentially another machine she’d built as her source of company, something she could understand and control instead of an unpredictable human being. Gerda works a job she likes but is shown to be disregarded by the person she works the most around, her abilities and intellect thrown aside for the good of someone she has to bear because of a hierarchy she was forced to accept in order to keep working. She’s appreciated by the town, but other than the main characters, we don’t see anyone paying her any mind when they don’t need something from her.

Meanwhile no kid has ever been alone in Trolberg. The mean kids are a group, the good kids are a group, even the gloomy teenage girls are a group. One of nightmare inducing entities, but a group nonetheless. All children in that world seem to operate on a ‘no man left behind’ code, looking out for each other even if they aren’t exactly fans of one another, helping even grown ups without asking why and working together. And this logic seems to extend to the adults who work around children too; especially the Raven Leader, who we see that through the children works as a vital part of the community and a way through which it comes together.

This isn’t very articulate but do you see the point? Do you see how clever that is? That a show about growing up has these themes? You can be magical, kind, strong, intelligent, competent, but none of that will make you truly happy if you don’t keep the most important thing from childhood? If you don’t keep your friendships, your bonds, something to tie you down to your reality and your community? The adults in the show all made their choices, and it’s okay to want to be alone, we all need it and some more than others (this is coming from someone who needs it a lot), but isolating yourself completely is the one thing that will make growing pains truly painful. I’m just so emotional over it. It’s so subtle and so clever considering the whole Mountain King plot that Hilda is willing to change species because she feels detached from her main relationships and surroundings. I love this show so much.

[captainseaweedbrains]

The Dance of the Color Guard, Op.64 Chapter 1

Katniss and Peeta used to be best friends when they were kids, but now in high school, they're barely on speaking terms. It isn't until they are forced together as the titular star-crossed lovers for their marching band's field show that they will have to face their past mistakes and try to get along if they ever hope of defeating the notorious Capitol Height's Imperial Marching Crusaders in competition.

It's all about winning and if that means pretending to be in love with Peeta Mellark, so be it.

But a lot can happen in six months.

Tumblr: x

Ao3: x x

April—Six Months Earlier

“Don’t be so obvious,” her music stand partner Leevy whispered in amusement, “but Peeta Mellark is staring at you again.”

“What?” Katniss looked straight up, not even pretending to be subtle, and locked eyes with the first chair trumpet player sitting directly across the room from her. His eyes widened for a moment, probably assuming she wouldn’t catch his stare with the clarinet section in front of him, but instead of looking away like a normal person would after being caught, Peeta Mellark smiled at her, his right eyebrow raising suggestively in question. Katniss gripped her flute and pointedly turned back to her music, knowing her section would be criticized next on their sloppy runs.

He liked to do that every so often during rehearsal, look at her like she was some kind of joke that amused him. Get her all flustered with those stupid eyebrows and smiles. Leevy enjoyed pointing it out all the time, drawing kissy faces with their initials in hearts on their shared music that Katniss would then furiously erase because what if someone saw that? People in band were gossipy enough with who was dating whom and who broke up with whom.

She didn’t want anyone thinking she had a crush on Peeta Mellark.

Mr. Abernathy, their band director, stepped between them on his podium, breaking any eye contact Peeta could make on her, and tapped his baton on his stand to grab everyone’s attention. “Okay, listen up, ya mangy teens! A few announcements before you all age me once more with your apparent lack of practicing. First being, next season’s field show—”

“Oh, can I say it?” Miss Trinket, their assistant director, asked, already pushing Mr. Abernathy off the podium. Miss Trinket was a small wispy woman, her height mainly due to the massive heels she sported no matter the season, but despite her title and small stature, it was clear to anyone with eyes who was in charge of any decision making for the band program.

Miss Trinket cleared her throat, smiling brightly as the room waited with anticipation. 

Marching season was one of the biggest things they did in the school year. Everyone looked forward to it and a strong field show could finally mean getting Athens Ridge High’s Marching Gladiators to finals and beating the crap out of their arch rivals: the rich snooty Capitol Heights Academy’s Imperial Marching Crusaders.

Every year they always came so close to beating them, but Capitol Heights had the money for large expensive props and Athens Ridge did not. They were lucky enough to have been able to afford new marching uniforms a few years back, replacing the threadbare grey ones with sleek black and gold. Mr. Abernathy always reminded everyone that he didn’t care about winning, nor did he give a rat’s ass about Capitol Heights and all their achievements. All he cared about was that they performed to the best of their ability and marched off the field with pride, but Katniss wanted their band to be the best. Everyone in the Athens Ridge band did.

“Can I get a drumroll, please?” Miss Trinket asked, looking pointedly to Gale in the back.

Gale rolled his eyes, but started the roll on his snare drum.

“This year’s marching show is…” Another dramatic pause.

“Will you just tell them, woman? This ain’t the Oscars,” Mr. Abernathy snapped, sick of all her flairs and dramatics. “We’re doing Romeo & Juliet. There. Now get off my podium.”

Miss Trinket held her ground, her pale features brightening under her anger, making her purple-streaked hair stand out more than usual. “Haymitch—!”

Everyone watched, entertained by yet another round of the two directors going at it once more. Katniss turned to look back at Gale, the head keeper of the betting pool, and he signed another two months before their directors would go at it like rabbits. She shook her head, laughing quietly to herself, and turned back to watch as the directors duked it out.  

“I’ve heard the music to this field show,” Leevy said after practice, cleaning out her flute. “It’s really pretty. I can see why Miss Trinket picked it.”

Katniss carefully tucked her flute back in its case, giving it one final shine before locking it shut. “You think Miss Trinket picked it?”

Leevy laughed and threw a pointed look over to where Mr. Abernathy sat slunk in his chair, stained coffee mug in hand as he scowled at some piece of paper. “I highly doubt Mr. Abernathy would choose a show like Romeo & Juliet without some heavy outside persuasion.”

She had a point there.

As they waited by the door, ready to book it the second the bell rang, Katniss and Leevy rolled their eyes at the chaos in front of them. Thresh Armstrong, a tuba player known for sneaking in toys from home, had brought out a foam football and had tossed it over to Johanna Mason, one of the smart ass percussionists, who almost crashed into the chimes trying to catch it. She held the ball up in victory and the guys around her hooted and hollered in applause. With a dramatic bow, she tossed it to Gale behind her, who caught it and called out for his girlfriend Madge to catch. Madge squealed in shock when the ball hit her in the back of the head, throwing the ball back at him in protest. 

“You’d think Abernathy would put a stop to that,” Leevy commented, laughing despite herself when the ball nailed Marvel Baxter in the face. “People can get hurt.” 

“Maybe he wants to see assholes like Marvel get hit in the face, too,” Katniss snorted, glad she got to witness it. “Do you think we’ll get to see Cato get hit in the face?” she asked, eyeing the bulky blond in the far corner with interest. 

“Doubt it.” Cato Martin was that stereotypical asshole who thought he walked on water and expected everyone to treat him as thus. And the sickening part was that people did. The school’s star quarterback was praised constantly in their school paper for his dedication to both the school’s athletic department and music department, despite being last chair in Symphonic Band and always being hounded for how bad he played by Mr. Abernathy. Despite his assholery, though, he always had a gaggle of followers around him, probably praising him for breathing. 

Katniss hated him so much, and it wasn’t just because they were locker neighbors and she was constantly having to shove him and whatever girl he was making out with off her own locker to squeeze in. Or that, since the 7th grade, he’s only referred to her as “Katnips Everslip” after a very unfortunate wardrobe malfunction at the community pool. Or even that time he taped rubber baby bottle nipples all over her locker sophomore year and only received a slap on the wrist by their dean, Mr. Flickerman, because he didn’t realize how offensive it was and he was so so sorry. Yeah, Cato sucked and she hated him for all those things and more, but she hated him most because Cato Martin was that entitled ass who just expected things to be given to him. He never faced any consequences and those were the worst kind of people.

Laughing at Marvel and his botched up nose, her eyes briefly caught Peeta’s and the amusement she felt seeing Marvel get nailed in the face vanished instantly. Every bully had that one lackey who wasn’t really an asshole, but was kind of one by association because he just went along with anything the bully did. Yeah, that lackey was Peeta Mellark. Which somehow made it even worse. She knew Peeta. Used to be friends with him in elementary school, back when your neighborhood friends were your whole world and nothing could come between you. Now he was just one of Cato’s goons who blindly followed whatever Golden Ass commanded. 

“Are you auditioning for color guard again?” Leevy asked, snapping Katniss’s attention back to her friend.

“Huh?”

Leevy’s eyes followed where hers had been and Katniss pretended not to notice the knowing smirk on her friend’s face, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve instead. “Are you trying out for color guard this year?” she asked again.  

“Of course.” Katniss flushed at her sure answer, but she always did color guard. It was kind of her thing, especially since Miss Trinket had singled her out freshman year, snatching 14-year-old Katniss off the practice field where she had been marching with her fellow flute players. “You’ve got the perfect arms,” Miss Trinket had told her and she’d been part of color guard ever since. 

“I’m hoping for captain, actually,” Katniss admitted, looking down at her beat-up sneakers. She hadn’t told anyone but Prim that, afraid she’d jinx it by putting it out in the universe too much, but going into senior year next season, she’d be the most experienced one auditioning. The odds were definitely in her favor, but the universe also had a tendency of fucking things up when she least expected it and she didn’t want to chance it.

Leevy sighed. “I wish you’d stay with the flutes. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to deal with that”—she pointed at the giggly flute players who were now fawning over Cato like lovesick puppies—"all by myself.”

Katniss gave her friend a sympathetic pat on the arm. “I’d rather shoot myself in the eye than have to deal with Golden Ass’ fan club. Why don’t you try out? You’re small, like me. I bet Miss Trinket would love that.” Their assistant director would be beside herself with joy at having another petite person in guard she could have tossed around. Miss Trinket was always complaining how there were too many tall girls nowadays and that it limited her “vision.” 

Leevy shook her head. “Oh, no. No, I don’t think I could ever do what you all do. Who would trust me to throw something in the air and expect me to catch it? And the way you did those handsprings for last year’s show?” She shook her head again in amazement. “I can’t even balance on one foot without falling. I’m nowhere near as talented as you.” 

Katniss’ cheeks darkened again at Leevy’s appraisal. Those handsprings were a bitch to grasp, she remembered, and the only reason she was the one doing them wasn’t because Trinket saw her as some talented goddess. No, it was just because everyone else was too afraid of doing them without any type of mat underneath them and Katniss wasn’t. She was about to tell her friend this—that yeah, she was pretty good with a flag and rifle, but all that can be taught and Leevy’s lack of gymnastic talent shouldn’t stop her from auditioning—when the foam football smacked her hard on the side of her head.

“What the hell?” She scanned the chaotic room for the culprit, rubbing at the spot where the ball hit. “Who threw that?” 

The culprit in question raised his hand apologetically and jogged over to pick the blue ball off the ground. Her hands balled into fists.

Peeta Mellark.

Of course.

“My bad!” he apologized, smiling down at her in that totally non-assery way that just pissed her off more. “I was trying to throw the ball to Glimmer and—” he started to explain, casually pointing behind him with his thumb.

“Your aim sucks that much?” she fumed, interrupting him. Glimmer was clear across the room by the other French horn players, far from where she and Leevy stood. “That could have hit my eye!”

There was a time, long ago, when she was once taller than him. She used to jokingly lean on Peeta while they waited in lines at school or the grocery store, calling him squirt and messing up his curly blond hair like his dad did, laughing when he’d scowl and pull away, hating that nickname. He always vowed he’d reach his growth spurt someday soon, just like his brothers, and she’d be sorry she ever called him squirt. Peeta stood almost a foot taller than her now, but she stood her ground. Glaring up at him, she considered using the old nickname, just to see if it rattled him

There was no way his aim was that bad. They’d had the same gym class for almost six years now and she knew he wasn’t terrible. Peeta was one of those guys things just came naturally to, especially sports. For years she has watched as he made the winning pass in basketball, smacked a volleyball down to score like nobody’s business, swiped the puck in during hockey. She smelled bullshit. 

This was probably some stupid dare Cato or Marvel put him up to. She eyed Marvel off to the side, still rubbing his nose. He was probably pissed at her for laughing at him and thought it’d be funny watching her get nailed in the face, too. Let’s see how hard the ball can bounce off Katnips Everslip’s tiny head! she could hear the idiots snickering. Marvel always did have a small ego. And of course, like always, Peeta just went along with it because that’s what Peeta did. Just go along with anything his friends suggested, even if meant injuring an innocent bystander.

“So why’d you throw it at me?” she point-blank asked, crossing her arms. “Did Marvel put you up to it? Cato?” 

His face quickly went from apologetic smiles to annoyance, rolling his eyes at her sneer. “You know, Katniss, believe it or not, accidents do happen.”

“Accident? Please,” she scoffed. “I know you, Peeta. You don’t do accidents. Everything you do is strategically planned and executed with exact precision. So who dared you? It was Marvel, wasn’t it?”

He looked back at his buddies and laughed, shaking his head incredulously. “I’m touched that you think I’m so robotic, Katniss, truly, but believe whatever the fuck you want. I said it was an accident because it was an accident.” 

“Just answer the question.”

“I already did.” He leaned toward her, his dark blue eyes mocking, and tapped the football on her nose with a smug smile, walking back over to his friends. Some of the guys made kissy faces at his return, laughing when Peeta shoved them to quit it, but he was laughing along with them. 

Katniss’ nails dug into her palms as she watched them, briefly wondering if someone could be glared to death. God, they were the worst.

“Wow,” Leevy breathed, watching the trumpet players, too. “The sexual tension is strong today. Felt like I was in a movie just now.” 

She turned to her friend, incredulous. “Sexual tension? With Peeta Mellark?” She gagged at the thought. “Did you not just see him be a complete ass to me? He hit me with a football!”

“Yeah and apologized for it.” Katniss rolled her eyes at the low standard bar Leevy had for apologies. Peeta’s apology was obviously fake and what about that annoying ball tap to the nose? Did she not see how condescending that was? “You two are so going to bone by the end of this year.”

The bell rang before Katniss could choke out a rebuttal.

[chrysalispen]

xxii. men who know their secret safe

She was awakened from a deep and dreamless sleep precisely an hour before sunrise, as light shimmered sullen and gray on the very edge of the timberline. The small partition that passed for her sleeping quarters were unlit, and she blinked owlishly into the near-total blackness, trying to get her bearings while fumbling with the laces of her kurta. 

"Look alive, novice." This growled from what she could glimpse of the stooped figure, standing by the small window on the other side of the partition. "Henceforth your day starts as early as does mine. Up with you. Trevautioux's already gone out for the day's hunting."

Ewain was as good as his word, it seemed.

Suppressing a yawn, Aurelia drew herself to dirty stocking feet upon stiff and sleep-wobbling legs. Her back ached from the narrow hardness of the wooden cot and the cabin was cold and damp - to say naught of her hair, which likely resembled a destroyed bird's nest from all her tossing and turning. She combed at it with clumsy fingers.

Her erstwhile teacher watched her preparations with ill-concealed impatience. 

"By the Matron," he groused, "you're slower than a three-legged eft."

"Surely you were not planning to walk 'round and make your introductions of your new whipping girl to the townsfolk at half five in the morning," came her retort, made quite surly for her lack of proper sleep. She rolled the scratchy, worn fabric up to her elbows. "The good townsfolk whom, I daresay, would be remarkably unappreciative of any accidental revelations about an imperial prisoner in their midst."

Rather than the scowl she'd half-expected the Hearer laughed, a chesty guffaw that ended in a wet cough into the elbow sleeve of his stained and rumpled hempen robe. 

"I believe I'm starting to see why E-Sumi-Yan insisted on ridding himself of you, girl," he said. "You'll want to work on that bedside manner of yours if you hope to become a successful healer worth the name."

"It would appear the Guildmaster did not inform you that my lack of experience lies wholly within the context of conjury." With an attempt at neither softness nor grace she plucked the lantern from his fingers to hang upon the hook that dangled from the nearby rafter. "I was a chirurgeon when I served in the army."

"Aye, well, mayhap 'twould serve you best to keep your prior experience to yourself - or lack thereof." 

"I beg your pardon," the Garlean snapped, now quite offended.

"You heard me. You're to smile and nod when we make our rounds later today. These folk can be prickly - and to my way of thinking, 'tis best that a lass with a sweet face and a shrew's tongue be seen and not heard in any case."

The stare Aurelia gave him was hard enough to strike sparks upon flint. He ignored it.

“I’ve already roused your Keeper friend,” he said. “I assume you want to wash before you eat. You’ll need to draw and boil your own water for that. You can make use of the buckets by the door; there’s a stream that runs behind the house. Make sure you boil the water before you use-”

“I’m aware,” she said shortly, already turning her back and making her way for the door. 

One glance at the sky as she stepped outside revealed a sliver of pink dipping its toes into that sea of dull grey. The sun would be rising soon. 

Aubin sat a few fulms away on the far edge of the porch; his ears swiveled forward at the sound of footsteps, but other than a soft whine the old wolf made no move to aggress her. He watched her movements with a sort of guarded curiosity as she reached for the wooden bucket on its peg by the door and wrapped her cloak about her shoulders. 

The wolf seemed to lose interest once it was apparent that no food would be forthcoming; he yawned in a display of yellowed teeth, then dropped his greying muzzle back to his paws.

She made her way down the steps. It was a cold morning and twice-frozen snowmelt made the trek to the river muddy and fraught with slipping hazards. She moved with care, hopping from outcropping to outcropping like a mountain goat, making her steady way down the incline towards the creek as Ewain had bid.

The currents in the center of the creekbed still flowed unimpeded, but the slower-moving waters along the bank were trapped beneath a layer of dirty ice. With barely a pause the Garlean lifted one foot to stamp on its surface; it was obvious at a glance that the ice was far too brittle and thin to hold any substantial weight, much less withstand a blow.

A bright and shallow crack snapped through the morning silence as she stooped to fill both buckets with cold water before lugging them back up the steep hillock from the bank to the porch. 

She had to set the bucket down to remove her shoes and hang her cloak on the peg over the others, then awkwardly kick the door open. The Hearer didn’t react to the sound of her entrance. All of his concentration was bent upon the heavy pot over the fireplace. Even Keveh’to’s glance in her direction was brief (if somewhat apologetic) before returning his attention to the wood he was feeding into the hearth. 

So she continued past the men with buckets in hand to the partition with the tub. Aurelia had learned from her sojourn in Gridania how to use the crystal-powered camp stoves that the Eorzean Grand Companies used in their pavilions: shards of fire crystal were set into the space between the pilot switch and the range top to send aether into the coiled heating element.

She had not, however, seen one of these stoves employed to heat a bathtub before, and was a bit surprised to see that the Hearer had such a luxury in his house-- if anything, she had thought she would be expected to spot-wash herself with thawed icemelt. It was a relief to know that would not be the case. The water warmed in short order, and as she settled in with the soap bar to wet her hair she listened to the muffled bits of conversation on the other side of the partition. 

“Might as well go ask the garrison if they’ve aught to be done about town,” Ewain was saying gruffly. There was the hollow rattling sound of a trencher smacking against a ladle. “Eat up.”

“I’ll be coming with you.”

“No, you won’t.”

“The hells I won’t. She’s my job.”

“She’s my job too. And she’ll not be able to accomplish what needs must with you dogging her every step. You’ll only be in the way.”

“If you mislike my presence so much,” Keveh’to said stiffly, “then make your complaints to the Grand Company. Or Brother E-Sumi-Yan.”

“I’m not saying you can’t do your job. I’m saying it’ll be easier for you to do your job if you help out with the watch. There’s all of three full-time Wailers here and I’m sure they’d appreciate another pair of hands, especially if the help was volunteered.”

“The villagers we saw yesterday didn’t look very appreciative.”

“Do your bit and they’ll warm up over time.” She heard the Miqo’te’s sulking sigh, followed by silence and pouring liquid. “Here. I think it oversteeped a touch, but it should still be drinkable.”

“Mm.”

“Anyroad, if you get bored walking about the village alone, there’s a rest stop about a half-bell out.”

“The Druthers, aye. We passed it on our way.”

“Aye, that’s the one; a decent watering hole from what I hear tell.” Another clink of the ladle against the pot, and Hearer Ewain grunted. “Wouldn’t kill you to try and make nice with the owner, too, while you’re here.”

“I’ll give it some thought.”

“Well, think harder, lad, because I’m not asking you to stay out of our way. I’m telling you.”

“Commander Heuloix-”

“I don’t give a shite for some stuffed shirt behind a desk in the city. I’ll not be having a bleeding soldier along on my rounds.” Aurelia heard the clatter of a walking stick, and through the edge of the partition she watched the old man hoist himself to his feet. “The villagers will start asking questions and before you know it you and your friend will be the talk of the village. Won’t be long before rumors start if they haven’t already-- and I’m willing to bet your secrets don’t guard themselves half as well as they should. Nor hers.”

“Come now,” Keveh’to scoffed, “Aurelia’s not stupid.”

“She’s not,” agreed Ewain, and the subject of their conversation nearly dropped her washcloth in surprise. “Unaccustomed to Eorzean ways, to be certain. But the last thing any of us needs is for wild rumors about the new conjurer in the village to be running rampant. If she’s being trailed by an armed escort every second of the day, it’ll only prompt awkward questions-”

“Awkward, my arse. Just say what you mean, oldtimer. Inconvenient, more like.”

“-and offering your sword arm - or bow arm, if you like - to the watch takes that pressure off the both of you,” Ewain finished as though he’d never been interrupted. “Novice! You can stop eavesdropping now. Get dressed and get out here so you can break your fast. We’ve places to be this morning.”

Aurelia said nothing but let herself fix the blank face of the hempen curtain with the most ferocious scowl she could muster. Seven hells, this was like being ten summers old all over again, if not worse. Even L’haiya hadn’t been this much of an autocrat; surely he didn't plan upon haranguing her for the most trivial of infractions every single day... 

Well, sitting about sulking in cold bathwater and turning into a prune surely won’t impress him nor anyone else. Get moving.

The cabin was cold and it took her a few tries to work her fresh set of smalls on for the shivering, but once she had warm socks and breeches on it was more easily managed. After pulling the simple robe over her head she pulled the curtain aside.

“Leave the water. We’re running behind as it is,” was the gruff response. “If you-”

“I’ll see to the tub,” Keveh’to interrupted. It prompted a startled glare from the old man, who’d clearly intended to lecture. “Come get your food.”

Breakfast turned out to be more frumenty (and Aurelia was certainly becoming tired of porridge with cinnamon by now, but there was little to be done about it); she all but shoveled the trencher’s contents into her mouth between sips of the mint tea from her tin cup, then hurried into the back of the room to grab one of her bags.

Her hand lingered over the carbonweave strapping of the field kit before some unknown instinct caused her to shove it back in the cabinet, and she grabbed the leather herb satchel with her logs and inkpots instead.

“Don’t get too fancy with that,” Ewain said when she came out, fumbling with the square of hemp in her hand. “As long as they can’t see it without attacking you you’ll be fine. Just a light covering under your hood will serve. Put your boots on so we can go--and… you there, lad.”

“The name is Keveh’to, Hearer,” the Miqo’te said, no small note of irritation in his voice. 

"Thought it were Sergeant Epocan." The wrinkles around Ewain’s eyes deepened into canyons as he squinted and pointed one gnarled finger in the younger man’s direction. “Well. Keveh'to, then. You mind what I said. No following along behind, you hear?”

“I heard you the first three times you told me,” was the grumbled response, one that went largely unnoticed as the two conjurers made their exit.

The old Hearer wasted no time in herding her down the small stone path and through the gate. She rearranged the covering on her head just in time to flip the hood up as a pretty Midlander woman of middling age came strolling towards them with a basket of dried grass listing upon one hip. 

“Good morning, Hearer Ewain,” she said with a friendly smile, one that became guarded and painfully polite when turned upon Aurelia herself--only a glance, but a glance was enough. “Going into town, are we?”

“Morning, Mistress Frieda. Aye, I’ve a new fledgling under my wing and I thought ‘twould serve her well to know where you lot live, in case it’s needful. I won’t be able much longer to come running to your doorstep every time one of those boys of yours takes a fall from a tree.”

To Aurelia’s surprise, the woman - Frieda - offered a bright laugh, shifting the basket in her hands. 

“Oh, come now, I’ve not had to call you nor Conjurer Trevautioux since last spring.”

“Aye, I'd be that surprised if you had, lass, seeing as there are no trees to climb inside a cabin.” His free hand clamped down on Aurelia’s shoulder and she had to steel herself not to jump. “...This young lady here is Aurelia, my newest pupil. She’s been sent to us fresh from the Conjurers’ Guild in Gridania to learn how the job’s properly done, and I thought I’d take her about the village. You’ll be seeing much more of her in the future.”

Feeling unaccountably awkward, Aurelia offered a quiet “good morning,” unsure what else might be expected of her. In the end she settled for a middle ground and inclined her chin towards the woman in what she hoped would appear as a grave but amiable greeting.

“Good morning to you, Conjurer,” Frieda’s smile was still rather polite, though Aurelia thought it had thawed perhaps a degree or two for Ewain’s introduction, “and welcome to Willowsbend. You’ll find this part of the Shroud a good sight different from the big town, I'm sure- but I’d never want to live anywhere else. The forest and the elementals provide all that we need.”

“Indeed.”

“Really, you’ll find no lack of things to do about the village. Why, just the other day, I-- Blessed Nophica,” she gasped, eyes wide, “my distaff! I’ve got to be along, a pleasure meeting you both, good day!”

Aurelia blinked as the woman, suddenly flustered, dropped a quick curtsy before dashing back the way she came.

At her side, Ewain cackled. “And that forgetful lass will be Frieda Miller,” he said. “I cut the cord myself on her nameday and was there for all four of her sons to boot---though that goes for most of the village these days, I wager. She’s right though, you’ll find no lack of things to do here.”

“Shall I be allowed?” Aurelia asked. “I assumed I’d be kept busy with other duties. About the cabin and such.”

“Only during certain times of the year, and now that we’ve four pairs of hands about the place I’m not opposed to you using a bit of free time to get your feet wet and learn about your new home. The village was hit hard by a recent illness-- one that came from soiled waters. We aren’t sure how much of it lingers still; that’s why I told you to wash up -- and they could use the help.”

She nodded, silently wondering if the damage she’d seen to their walls came from the falling moon or something else. It didn’t seem extensive enough to have been caused by shrapnel. 

“Besides,” Ewain said, apparently taking her lack of response for agreement, “I wager they’ll take a bit more quickly to a lass who shows she’s willing to get her hands dirty. Now, come this way. We’re stopping by the Starke place first.”

She shifted the bag on her shoulder, bowed her head, and measured her pace so as not to stray too far ahead. 

The morning wore on.

 ~*~

 Keveh’to stepped onto the porch, tail lashing hard enough in his agitation to thump against the door he’d closed at his back. The pathway leading into the village square was, other than a few souls and the odd pig wandering through the muddy road, empty. Cold wind bit at his cheeks. Winter still had a grasp, if a slowly weakening one, on the Shroud. 

The Keeper sighed, his ears flattened against his head. Wisps of his own hair tickled them uncomfortably but he barely marked it for his worry.

“I mislike the feel of this place,” he muttered aloud. 

Were this Gridania, Aurelia would be here, and she would chuckle at his remark and make some wry-tongued jest about it. That thought made the invisible and oppressive heaviness on his shoulders seem to weigh him down further. He hadn’t realized how accustomed he’d become to having her there until she suddenly wasn’t, and the maddening thing was that he knew she hadn’t actually gone anywhere.

She’d become a friend, a good friend, and that surprised him more than anything. 

Keveh’to Epocan was entirely unaccustomed to the notion of having friends. He had acquaintances aplenty to be certain, but ‘friend’ was a category of acquaintance rather more intimate than a professional relationship allowed, and he was rarely willing to be so trusting with others. He’d drifted about the fringes of Shroud society most of his life, as all too many Keepers did. Becoming an adventurer had brought him neither coin nor glory nor camaraderie.

Even the formal affiliation with a Grand Company brought with it only the structured drudgery of rank-and-file military existence. When the newly instated Commander Heuloix had called upon him to mind one of the VIIth Legion soldiers taken prisoner by the Alliance in the wake of the disaster, Keveh’to had been none too thrilled. In truth, he had seen it as a punishment detail. Keepers and Duskwights in the Twin Adder (whether any of the Grand Company's officers wished to admit it or not) so often drew the short straw where such matters were concerned.

He was painfully aware that he’d been saddled with this “privilege,” simply because no one else was willing to damn themselves by association in volunteering for the duty. But he’d taken the job, of course. What else did they think he was going to do? It wasn’t as if Keveh'to could be more of an outcast than he already was. A tolerable local nuisance, one of three boys born to a mother who’d left them with relatives before she had disappeared into the depths of the wood, and that when he was barely three summers old. 

And really, no one else was going to look after the safety of a godsdamned Garlean, not of their own free will. Not even a Garlean that the Seedseer had seen fit to spare for reasons unknown.

Might as well be him.

Thus, with no small amount of underlying rancor Keveh’to had watched his charge struggle to find her feet in a place full of people who hated her kind and would have liked naught better than to see her fail. Watched as she endured the same sort of hostility he had- that many outsiders had- from the townspeople. It had been almost every day on her way to the Fane, in those first weeks. The Stillglade Fane, where it had been the prisoner’s lot to deal with more hostility in the form of conjurers and chirurgeons who - at best - refused to trust her with aught save the most menial of tasks. 

It reminded him, with a sort of bitter irony, of his own treatment growing up.

At first he had found himself with little reason to care beyond following the letter of his duties. Oh, there was little love lost between himself and Gridania’s townspeople, of course; he was precisely as fond of them as they were of him. But the fall of Dalamud was a different matter altogether and a pretty face and a lady’s fine manners didn’t change the facts. She had been a cog in the machinery of an invasion force, one which had quite nearly broken the land itself. 

His charge was a living, breathing symbol of imperial oppression. Small wonder few had pity to spare.

Still, he had marveled in silence at the breadth of her patience, for Keveh’to knew he would not have been able to exercise the same level of discretion and self-control were their positions reversed. The snail’s pace with which the Gridanians were willing to give her or the other prisoners any chances at all often frustrated Aurelia, and she was of a certainty no saint; she had let her temper get the better of her tongue a time or two in more private settings.

But she had never once given into the urge to become truly embittered by her treatment. If anything, she seemed so sorry for her own part in it that she seemed to have quietly accepted their harsh treatment as the punishment she was due. 

Before he realized it, his own attitude towards her had started to thaw little by little until he found himself looking forward to their trips into the forest. He’d found her wanting in the beginning, and now he found himself wanting for the company of one of the few friends he’d ever had. It wasn’t the old man’s ire that gave him pause now, it was the possibility of her disappointment in him. 

As galling as the old bugger’s grouchy lecture had been, he had to admit (however grudgingly) that the man’s assessment was a valid one. If Keveh’to wanted Aurelia to be successful during her time here, he needed to call as little attention to her as possible, and if that involved giving a bit of slack to her leash then he would have to do just that.

But something about the woods here did make him feel uneasy. Keveh'to didn't like feeling watched.

Yet that was what he’d sensed not a quarter-malm past what folk called the Druthers, little more than a rest stop composed of two thatch houses and a tavern. Eyes that had lingered until they came within sight of the perimeter of the village, and by the fidgeting he’d felt at his back he suspected Aurelia might have sensed it too. 

With all of that in mind, Keveh’to amended, perhaps Hearer Ewain’s suggestion to befriend the villagers hadn’t been as daft as he’d initially thought.

He shifted his shoulders beneath the weight of his worn gambeson, paused, and decided to leave his yellow Twin Adders overcoat hanging on its peg. This was just a visit, he told himself, a means to feel out the mood of the local garrison-- or what passed for one-- and offer his assistance should they deem it needful.

The reaction of the villagers he passed was, he thought grimly, no less hostile than he’d expected. The suspicious glares, mothers dragging their children out of his reach, fading smiles, eyes hastily avoiding his: every bit of it the reception a Keeper could expect in most small villages in the Shroud. Just as he'd told Brother E-Sumi-Yan, this one appeared to be no exception to the rule. 

Keveh’to bore it with the stoic mask he had so carefully built over longer years, making his way down the muddy main thoroughfare as if he had noticed nothing and would not care a whit even if he did.

Security in a village this size would have been an afterthought at best to the Twin Adder. The Grand Company’s purpose was specifically to fight Garlemald; defending the Shroud itself came a distant second, and only where they were needed to bolster ranks. The Wood Wailers existed for the latter purpose, though even at a glance he had seen yesterday that their presence in this place was equally minimal.

Out of the dozen faces he’d seen along the wall to accost them, only three had worn the monoa masks typical of the forest guardians. But he still didn't rate his chances against three Wailers if they decided to deem him hostile.

Best tread carefully, he thought.

He took care to approach the wall from as open an angle as he could manage, bow and quiver on his back, hands exposed and posture relaxed. The Wailers at the gate watched him approach with visible tension. Although their faces were hidden from his sight, he could see how tautly the strings of their bows were drawn, the nocked arrows, the adjustment of the grasp upon a lance, the slightest crouch into a battle stance.

They wanted a fight and he wasn't here to give them one, as much as he would have liked it.

Mildly he said, “A good morning to you.”

One of the Wailers chose to simply ignore him; the point of the arrow did not waver.

The other relaxed his stance, though he was in no wise unprepared to fight. His tall and lanky frame marked him as an Elezen even were it not for the sight of his ears, pointed and prominent as they were behind carved ash.

“You came in with that conjurer yesterday,” he said. The flat, unimpressed undercurrent was no less obvious for being muffled behind the mask. “What do you want with us?”

Keveh’to supposed the truth would serve as well as aught else he could say. “Under advisement from Hearer Ewain, I’ve come to offer my services to the watch.”

The pair exchanged long and meaningful stares before those unsettling and near-featureless masks turned back on him.

“Why?”

Taken aback by the question, he countered, “Why not?”

“Why would an outsider care about a place like this?”

“Friend,” Keveh’to said with a patience he didn’t feel, “hard times have fallen upon us all, and unless I miss my guess, there are all of three Wood Wailers to protect this settlement. I can’t imagine that three of you against a full war band of Ixal is anything like a fair fight, to say nothing of any other dangers that might prowl the woods.” 

“You won’t-”

“I am an adept hunter,” he said. “I know the forests very well- and as you can see, I’m a deft hand with a bow if I do say so myself.”

The man's posture, notably, had by now relaxed further to something almost approaching casual. By all appearances, Keveh'to thought, he was no longer considered a threat.

"....you said you belong to the Grand Company?"

"That's right. Sergeant Keveh'to Epocan."

An impatient sigh issued from behind the blank surface of the mask.

“Very well,” the man answered. “Since you insist upon making yourself available, Sergeant, then I wager we might as well make you useful. You are hardly Wailer material but the wall can always use more eyes, I suppose. Follow me.”

And that was how, within the first twenty-four bells of their arrival in Willowsbend, Keveh’to Epocan of the Twin Adder found himself deputized as the village watch’s first and only Miqo’te volunteer. It was, he thought, almost as hilarious as the realization that they harbored the Gridanian Conjurers’ Guild’s first and only Garlean novitiate. 

With any luck, he thought wryly, no one would ever be the wiser.

[mysteriouslydarktale-blog]

Suede (Part 1 of 2)

Suede (Part 1 of 2)

Short Story by V-Nasty

1971

 Langston Roberts had received his 10th invitation to the Winter Formal.

 The pink note was folded meticulously on his desk and he eyed it warily as he sank into his seat. He looked around the classroom and rolled his eyes when he spotted Stella Peterson's all-pink notebook sprawled clumsily across her lap. She was pretending not to pay any attention but held a smile as she stared ahead at the blackboard. There were about 15 other students in the class, the history teacher was not yet present.

  Langston lifted the note and began to read it.

 "Winter formal with me?"

 Stella was, undoubtedly, one of the most popular girls at Mclean High School. She was conventionally attractive with very long blonde hair, fair skin and large green eyes. Her father, Richard Peterson, was a member of the House of Representatives and her mother, Hannah Peterson, was a boutique owner and catalogue model

 Langston, however, didn't really care for her.

 He stuffed the little pink note in his bag, deciding to wait before giving her a definite answer. All the girls who asked him to the dance were pretty but since Stella was the most popular one, he considered accepting her proposal. He wasn't necessarily fond of her but she was a member of their exclusive clique. Virtually everyone who attended Mclean High School was extraordinarily wealthy or well-off. It was the second home to Buckhead, Atlanta's most elite group of teenagers.  

 Stella glanced over her shoulder and was slightly put off when she noticed the pink note was gone. Langston caught her eye and shrugged casually, giving her a small smile. Apparently this pleased her because she responded with an even bigger smile as he resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. He didn't understand the fuss girls made about him.

 A freshman girl once told him that he kind of resembled Ricky Nelson. He shrugged it off though, it was barely a compliment.

 The class was active with conversation when Mrs. Harrington inconspicuously walked in.

 No one noticed the student waiting at the door.

 "Morning class," Mrs. Harrington announced loudly, setting down her tote and gradebook on her desk. "Sorry, I'm late. I was showing a new student around." She extended her hand towards the girl at the door.

 The girl stepped forward and everyone grew silent.

 She was tall, roughly 5'7 and slim but…very curvaceous. She wore a white turtle-neck, a suede jacket, a suede skirt and long black knee-high boots. She styled her hair in an afro – a large, brown afro.

 Her most enticing feature, however, were her amber eyes.

 The class was very silent. She wasn't the first black person the class has ever seen but she was one of the first and only black people to ever attend McClean High during that time. The only other black student attended Mclean in 1968. He was the son of a politician or something….it took some time for everyone to adjust.  

 "Stand in front of the class sweetie," Mrs. Harrington encouraged. "Tell everyone about yourself."

 Langston watched her intently; he was overtly fascinated. He had to admit, she was very pretty. To be honest, he's never had any black friends or was close to any black people except for his house keeper, Glenda.

 Jamelia walked in front of the class and when she opened her mouth to speak, her words were barely audible.

 Jamelia's voice was high, soft, and docile. Langston noticed that although she looked like a vixen, there was something profoundly innocent about her face.

 "Hi everyone, my name is Jamelia. I moved to McClean about two weeks ago from Los Angeles." Her eyes weren't trained on anyone in particular. "Um…I just turned 17 and I… love fashion."

 The class was still extremely quiet.

 "Sweetie, tell them about who you’re related to." Mrs. Harrington grinned.

 Jamelia looked mildly embarrassed as she continued on, "Oh um…my mom is Katherine Anderson. She's a member of the Marvelettes. My dad is Steven Anderson; he's an author and…he occasionally writes for the Los Angeles Times…"

 The class was still uncharacteristically silent.

 Mrs. Harrington looked mildly put off by their lack of enthusiasm. "Jamelia sweetie, why don't you take a seat – right there – to the left of Mr. Roberts."

 Jamelia looked slightly confused until Mrs. Harrington said, "The blond with the blue shirt."

 Langston felt vaguely excited that Jamelia was making her way towards him. She was like a teenage version of Denise Nicolas. Her heels clicked softly against the ceramic tiling as she made her way towards the center of the classroom. Langston inhaled a whiff of her perfume as she eased into her seat. Vanilla and lavender.

 When goosebumps started to erupted on his arms, he knew she was going to be a problem.

 Jamelia briefly caught his eye.

 He smiled.

 She didn’t smile back.

______________________________________________________________________

 Langston Roberts was nominated for Winter Formal King and had approximately 3 weeks to decide who to bring to the dance as his date. The pressure was extremely intense.

 Later that week, he had received his 15th proposal and had yet to give an answer to anyone. He was barely attracted to anyone that asked him out. He just wasn't enticed by the sea of superficial and shallow girls that attended Mclean High. Everyone was starting to look the same. Straight, shiny hair, corduroy skirts, and sparkly lip gloss. It was appealing at some distant point but now it was mundane and predictable.

 Langston was only interested in one girl but that one girl was not interested in him. This was a first because he was used to getting a lot of female attention. Jamelia, however, barely batted an eye at him since her arrival.

 He realized one day that he was very attracted to her.

 She strutted into class wearing a white, off-the-shoulder top with the bluest bell-bottom jeans and a pair of brown espadrilles. He almost melted when the scent of vanilla and lavender hit his nose. He was allured by her exposed neck and collarbones. Her skin was a caramel color; perfect and unblemished.

 She sat down and accidently pushed a pencil off her desk. As if in slow motion, it rolled towards him. He grasped it from the floor and handed it back to her. She hesitated before grabbing it but offered a small smile.

 A lump began to form in his throat.

 Woah, she was a dream.

 His body reacted unreasonably in her presence. He wanted to touch her. He craved her scent and longed to wrap a curl around his finger. Never in his life did he have a crush so strong and it's barely been two weeks. He wanted to speak to her but she seemed less than interested - and almost afraid - to start any conversation.  

 Langston knew he had to try. He knew he wanted to ask Jamelia to the Winter Formal.

______________________________________________________________________

 Tiny buds of sweat began to form on Langston's forehead as he approached Jamelia. She was salvaging books from her locker and looked a little apprehensive as she fumbled through the items inside. The hall was virtually empty minus the janitor, who was whistling jovially to some Marvin Gaye tune.

 Jamelia jumped slightly when she heard Langston's footsteps near towards her. She eyed him suspiciously until he completely obscured her view.

 "…Hey," he said, scratching the back of this head awkwardly. "How are you?"

 She hesitated a little. "Groovy."  

 "Cool, cool," he started again. For the first time in his life, Langston was so flustered by a girl, he couldn't think of anything intelligible to say. "C-class is late for you."

 "Huh?"

 "I-I mean, you're late for class," he said, a little more aggressively than he intended to. "Um…I'm sorry – I just saw you in the hall and wanted to see if you were okay."

 Jamelia's lips quivered a bit, she was unsure of how to respond. "Yeah, I actually can't find my Home Economics book," her eyes softened as she looked at him and back at her locker. "You're late too."

 He was also in love with her voice. She was so soft-spoken

 It took Langston several attempts before he was able to approach her. Today, she was wearing a white, satin blouse under a red cashmere vest. Her plaid, pleated skirt was red and yellow and her knee-high socks were slightly sheer. Langston closed his eyes briefly and inhaled. Her signature scent was as enticing as ever.

 "Yeah," he swallowed. "I actually wanted to ask you something…"

 She waited and when there was no immediate response: "Yes?"

 "Uh, I have my Home Economics textbook," he stumbled and scratched his head again. "Would you like to share with me?"

 "Was that your question?"

 "Of course."

 She looked around and back. "…sure Langston, that's real nice of you." Her amber eyes twinkled slightly as she offered him a genuine smile. "We should probably get to class now, huh?"

 He was so fixated by her smile that he forgot to respond.

 She started to walk past him and he watched as her large, brown afro bobbed up and down. Snapping out of his reverie, he ran to catch up with her - unaware of two suspicious green eyes watching the scene from behind.

 Stella Peterson grimaced in mild horror as she watched the pair walk off to class together. She overheard most of the conversation and was appalled that Langston might actually like Jamelia. Why would he like Jamelia, when he was supposed to like her?

 Stella was extremely well-known at Mclean High. She was the object of admiration for both sexes and was recently named Mclean High's Bunny of the Year, a prestigious honor indeed. Underclassman never won Winter Formal Queen and since she was a senior, she was determined to win.

 And she was certain that Langston was going to be Winter Formal King.

 She wasn't going to let anyone get in her way of her perfect night with her perfect date, especially not some random black girl. There was no competition and she was going to make sure of it.

______________________________________________________________________

 "Why is he walking in with her?"  

 "Who does she think she is with that outfit?"

 "She's pretty for a black girl, I guess."

 "Langston looks so good in those jeans."

 Jamelia and Langston were both 10 minutes late to class and were confronted with a sea of murmurs and stares upon their arrival. Langston ignored them and made his way to his regular seat and motioned Jamelia to sit by him. She made her way swiftly with her head slightly bowed down.

 "Nice of you to join us," Mrs. Eskers said in a monotonous tone. "As I was saying, the midterm project is due in 3 weeks. Everyone must choose one person to write a speech about and bring in a homemade gift. This will help with self-esteem in both yourself and the other person. Make sure the speech is heartfelt and the homemade gift is made thoughtfully. Blah blah blah…back to the regular lecture."

 She turned her face to the blackboard and starting writing the steps to making homemade molasses cookies.

 Langston pulled out his textbook and sprawled it across the desk between himself and Jamelia. He looked at her briefly and whispered. "I think I'm going to do a speech about you," he watched as her eyebrows furrowed deep into her forehead.

 "Me? Why?"

 "…because um…I don't think anyone else chose you. So I think I wanna do one about you… plus…I love the Marvelettes."

 "Oh okay, I can dig it…I'm choosing Velma because I've never seen hair that red before in my life," she whispered back and they both started to laugh. "Its far out."

 "Yeah…like you."

 "What was that?"

 "I said, yeah that's true," Langston recovered quickly. "Hey…I wanted to ask you something - "

 "- An actual question this time?"

 He smiled. "Yeah…um…do you have a date for the Win…"

 He was stopped abruptly by Mrs. Eckers, who slammed a ruler across their jointed desk.

 "Miss Anderson, Mr. Roberts – was there something interesting that you would like to share with the class?"

 Langston shook his head.

 "Mr. Roberts!" she screeched. "Please use your voice."

 "No ma'am. Nothing interesting at all."

 "Langston, don't lie to me. Please stand in your seat and tell the class what you and Miss. Anderson were discussing. If not, you will both receive detention."

 Langston stared up at Ms. Eskers and back at Jamelia, who was also looking at Ms. Eskers. He was under the scrutiny of the entire class but his attention was on the girl before him. Her amber eyes were transfixed on the teacher, her lips puffy and pink, her hair large and majestic.

 Bewitched is the only word that could describe his infatuation for her.

 He tore his gaze away, stood up in his seat and inhaled. Mrs. Eskers took a step back, her ruler in hand.

 He stared ingenuously at the teacher. "I was in the middle of asking Jamelia if she had a date to the Winter Formal," He looked at Jamelia. "If not, I wanted to take you."

 The class went completely silent. It took Jamelia roughly 3 minutes to reply and to Langston, those 3 minutes felt like 3 hours. She didn't respond right away and she could feel the glares of every girl in the class burning a hole through her temple. She then eyed at Mrs. Eskers, who also looked like she was waiting for an answer.

 "I don't have a date for winter formal…," she said slowly, choosing her words carefully. "…But, I don't think I'll be going anyway."

 "Oh…cool," were the only two words that left Langston's mouth.

 But oddly enough, he wasn't discouraged.

 He gave her a small smile which she weakly returned. Mrs. Eskers huffed impatiently as she made her way back to the blackboard. There were a few students who were still staring at the pair.

 No. Langston Roberts was not discouraged – he was more determined than ever to get closer to her.

[kimievii]

I was tagged by @ichaichalivinglegacy​ to post 9 characters I relate with,

Thank you so much sweetheart!! ♥♥♥

without order :

- Frodo Baggins - The Lord of the Rings

- Eowyn - The Lord of the Rings

 - Merida - Brave

- Young Cloud Strife - Final Fantasy VII

- Yoosung Kim - Mystic Messenger

- Belle - The Beauty and the Beast

-Tifa Lockhart - Final Fantasy VII

- Yûgi Mutou - Yu-gi-oh

- Senritsu - Hunter x Hunter

Main themes : lack of self-confidence - quietness - loneliness - demisexuality/romanticism - rebellious

I’m tagging @redfoxline ; @ennea ; @never-adrift ; @spacedoutpup ; @mellorine-chan ; @consulting-scottie ; @humanivers ; @overflowingpassion and @allexche

More explanations for each characters under the cut for those who are interested =3

Frodo Baggins 

I’ve always related to Frodo, as long as I can remember. He’s weak, he’s not courageous, many time he thinks he’s going to fail his mission, he’s not your typical hero, actually if he could, he would have come back home and live a peaceful life, but he doesn’t. The ring is a terrible burden on his shoulders, something that transforms him in someone he is not, and I feel like depression has done the same to me. I would love to enjoy a peaceful live too, but I hate discord and sometimes I feel bold, to the point of accepting something that is too much pression for me, something I’m certain I’m going to fail, but I do it nonetheless, because I said I would.

Eowyn

I may be terrible at it, but I’ve always admired people who can fight with  a sword, that’s why I did some kendo a while ago. Sadly I stopped but if I could I would do it again, maybe this time someone would teach me correctly, though... (sexism is a thing in this type of sport....) Well anyway, I always wanted to fight for myself, being able to defend myself and I have a huge sense of freedom. I would fight for it, and I wouldn’t want to be put aside in a war. I’m not a violent person, though, I would fight if there is no other options. Eowyin is also really faithful and devoted to the person she falls in love with, which is, again, like me.

Merida 

Now, Merida is probably the character that I relate the less to. But I love her spirit of rebellion against her parents who wants to marry her and her love for wandering alone in her territory. I am much likely the same here. Also, my hair and shape of my face are sorta similar to hers. My hair is much shorter and I’m not a ginger, but ye. I also have scottish ancestors.

Young Cloud Strife

Again, a character I’ve always related a lot to. Mostly for my lack of self-confidence here. Cloud has a low sef-esteem. in FFVII, he only changes his attitude because he thinks he’s Zack, but if it wasn’t for that exreme confusion in his mind, he would still have issues with that. Well, Cloud had and still has a ton of issues with himself, he has various psychological problems, notably about his identity, and he has an inferority complex, he thinks like he’s a failure who can’t help people too. Cloud used to be very lonely in his hometown, it was the same for me. Also, he’s not shy but definitely introverted and all in all a quiet person (thus the huge contrast with Zack). Same goes for me. And finally, Cloud seems to be romantically interested to very few people, this is an headcanon of mine, but he really seems demisexual, he’s also all awkward, secretive and easily embarrassed when questionnend about his love life, and to be honest, this is really me as well.

Yoosung Kim 

I relate to Yoosung so so much. Probably the one I relate to the most in this list. Yoosung feels useless, he feels like he’s going to fail at school, he has no more hopes for his future, he never had a love life and he ends up playing games instead of studying. Despite all that, we know Yoosung has a beautiful dream (becoming a vet), used to be serious and is really dedicated and faithful to the one he loves. He feels terribly lonely and feels like he’s a loser, and that is pretty much a good summary of me.

Belle

Belle is the Disney Princess I always related to as a kid. She loves books, I did too when I was young, she dreams of adventures and she wishes to actually fall in love with someone, or at least meet a friend who could understand her. She doesn’t fit in her hometow, she doesn’t have friends, it’s just her dad and her, no one besides him and the book keeper seems to really like her. She’s a romantic person and I love that she doesn’t fall in love instantly, she got to know the Beast and how sweet he actually is before falling for him. This was the kind of romance I always loved the most. And since I know I’m demi, it only makes sense I only swore by those stories. However, she is really bold and brave, she’s never afraid to say what she thinks, whether to Gaston or the Beast, and I’m definitely not as bold as her. I’m a shy girl, she’s definitely not.

Also, she is french and lives in the countryside, so do I.

Tifa Lockhart 

For a good part of FFVII, it seems to me that Tifa was in the shadow of Aerith’s bright personality. Even though she loves Cloud, she lets Aerith has her ways with him. She doesn’t seem to like to interfere, so to me, it looks like she also has some self-confidence problems when it comes to her love life. She also doesn’t really know what is the good attitude to have face of Cloud’s lies, because she knows he’s lying about Nibelheim. She’s not shy, but she is reserved and feels some hesitance about what to do. She is also really caring and would do anything for Cloud and her friends. Again, this is a person who is really dedicated to her only love. She’s been love with Cloud since she was a teenager, and it never changed.

Yûgi Mutou 

Aaah Yûgi Mutou. A lonely nerd who just wants a group of precious friends. His time at school when he was still alone were very much like mine. He was playing games on his own and was bullied. Again, this is a character who has a really low self-esteem and lack self-confidence in his abilities. When he finally makes friends, he trusts them with all he has and thanks to his other self (Yami), he slowly but surely gains confidence, and I think this is really amazing. So, to be around someone who trusts and believes in you really helps you change for the better. And even though I made good friends thanks to tumblr, in my case, I still don’t believe in myself.

Senritsu 

Senritsu is a character who loves music and uses it to soothe people’s hearts. She speaks softly and is overall a really quiet, peaceful person, it’s so calming to be around her. And apparently, so am I. People enjoys my silences or the fact that I speak very softly. Also, I have the same teeth as hers.

There you go \o/

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Fireflies Over The Wall - Chapter 3

Relationship: The Bell Keeper & Meiri (Original character)

Summary: "The troll brought with herself, every night without a fault, a baby.

Every night, she placed it upon the grass, and pointed upwards, showing her baby the stars and constellations. Showing her baby the fireflies.

Holding it tight. Cuddling with it. Making sure it saw the beauty the world had to offer. He had never considered himself a sentimental man. Yet this image, for some reason, never failed to make him return home feeling something gaping and void inside of himself.

Every one of his former coworkers must have returned to their families.

Who would Edmund return to when he could work no more?

What would give him a reason to get out of bed when the fireflies were no longer enough?"

An OC's origin story as well as a Bell Keeper character study, because this character is much more fascinating than I'd been giving him credit for.

Notes: Title from ‘Soap’ by The Oh Hello

Chapter title: Leech what's caustic

Read it on ao3

The second time it happened, the sun was up. Barely so, but it was, the golden rays hiding away the glimmer of the stars. It was early morning and while he’d only had twelve hours since the end of his last shift to rest, he actually felt good about heading to work that day. The fresh air of sunrise usually did that to him, even if he thought it was terribly corny. He had even started whistling before opening the door to the tower, when he heard the sound of a branch being forced to its full weight capacity and its leaves rustling with movement. As he turned around, expecting a large bird to have landed nearby or maybe some sort of squirrel, Edmund found he was actually not all that surprised to see Meiri dangling precariously from the tree.

“You again.” He said though his voice lacked (too much) bitterness. Even he couldn’t be an ass to a kid. Even if the kid didn’t partake in his code of conduct. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking at lichen.” Came her automatic answer. He couldn’t tell if that meant it was honest or a lie.

To her credit, she did seem to be looking at lichen. In the worst way possible, that was. Her legs were crossed over the branch she was hanging on to, both of her hands grasping it as the rest of her body was dragged down by gravity. Sure enough, there were light green patches on the part of the branch nearest to her face.

“I’m not even going to ask.” Edmund mumbled as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, even though the statement was irrelevant considering he had already asked.

And apparently, for some reason he was going to continue doing so. He walked closer, not feeling completely at ease with her suspended up in the air like that with only a branch which he wouldn’t be placing any trust on to hang on to. A fall from that height might not hurt someone his size, but it sure would her.

“Why is it you’re always climbing on something when I see you?”

Either his attempt to sound stern had been ignored or it completely went over her head. Both were equally likely, he thought. Meiri only shrugged, or did so as best as she could in her current position, causing her body to sway a bit. The branch creaked, making his breath hitch but seemingly having no effect on her.

“Not my fault interesting things are up high so often.”

He considered her answer as she seemingly went back to examining the lichen (and was it even healthy to look at them up this close?), not really seeing the fault in her logic. It sort of was why he kept his job, in the end. Maybe if he explained this to her he could beat the cop allegations.

“Oh, yeah?” Creeping even closer and telling himself that it was because even he wasn’t enough of a jerk to leave a child in a dangerous situation, Edmund hoped he looked unassuming as he took his hands out of his pockets and began calculating which would be the best position to keep them in order to catch her if needs be. “And what’s interesting about lichen?”

The kid let her head fall back in order to look at him, blinking in surprise. “They’re algae.” She said, even though she sounded unsure that she should be saying something. “And fungi as well. They’re in an obligatory mutualistic relationship; I mean, those two types of organisms exist by themselves in other situations, but the species that form lichens can’t survive by themselves.”

Edmund raised an eyebrow. “How exactly is that good for either of them?”

“Right? That confused me too. Needing someone else to survive in order to live seems like too much trouble. But they manage; you find lichen living in much more diverse places than just algae or just fungi. Even deserts! So they seem to be getting something out of it. Keeping each other alive.”

It was too damn early to be getting philosophical about plants’ twice removed cousins. Unfortunately, the kid didn’t look like she was planning on moving anytime soon.

“They need to reproduce by either the fungus part reproducing on its own and finding another algae or cyanobacteria, or a bit of the lichen gets torn apart and grows back somewhere else. There’s a lot more of them here than around the city centre, because of air quality, and I’m trying to get a look at the fruiting bodies on these ones.”

Edmund let his hands fall down, genuinely impressed to have heard her speak so much all at once. It was probably more words than she’d spoken during the entire time she’d been with him some nights before. He didn’t know what it was he was been waiting for, whether it was being told to sod off and leave her alone, to get annoyed enough to leave by himself, or for her to keep going on about lichen for some reason. But remaining there paid off when he heard a particularly loud snap, and automatically reached up to grab her in one swift motion.

“Oi!” She protested once she was in his arms. “What the heck?!”

The girl didn’t weigh much at all. The hardest work he was currently doing was controlling his breathing and heart rate after his reflexes had taken charge and thankfully spared the child from a two metre high fall.

Or at least he thought they had, but the branch was still holding strong.

Which probably explained the indignant fire to Meiri’s eyes and the way she seemed to be fighting against his arms to be let go off.

“Stop yer squirming, the whole branch was gonna go down!”

“Oh, really?” She asked with no small amount of sarcasm as she pointedly looked from him to the perfectly still branch.

Edmund already had a counter argument on his tongue when, like an actor who had missed his cue, the middle of that very branch cracked and the half to which she’d been clinging to fell loudly on the floor in front of them, making them both startle.

“Oh!” Meiri stopped her fighting, looking down at what could very well have been her causa mortis had it not been for Edmund’s quick thinking. “Really.”

“Yes, kid, really!” He put her down on the floor, noticing how she immediately went to touch the branch. “How on earth come ya haven’t gotten yourself killed yet?!”

The girl only shrugged and began touching the branch seemingly at random. Edmund sighed, his shoulders dropping in exhaustion - more so emotionally after the scare than physically - as he failed to will himself to walk away now that there was no immediate danger to that child anymore.

“You gonna take this one home as well?” He asked for lack of a better thing to say.

“No. I saw what I wanted to already.” She then turned to him and raised her hands. “Plus my hands are probably full of spores now! If I touch the right places I might create new lichen.”

Okay, you are weird, he thought but refused to say out loud. There were certain things you never told children, no matter how profoundly you believed in them. He had been a weird kid; he would know.

“Well, good luck with that, then.” One foot in front of the other. Yes, Edmund, good job. He began walking away, telling himself it was Saturday afternoon so she was probably on her allowed ‘wandering around town’ time, and right after that reminding himself that whether or not it was the case was very much not his problem. He had a long day of looking at grass to get to.

He wasn’t allowed to.

“Hey!” She called after him when he was already walking away, and he groaned. Turning back to look at her, he put on his most stern look with his arms crossed, trying to convey an obvious ‘I don’t have time for this’ energy. He came to regret it, though, when he saw that she actually looked the most apologetic he’d ever seen her. She was twisting her hands on one another and biting her lip, looking to the side rather than at him.

“Thank you for not letting me fall.”

The sentence sounded like it took a lot of effort to make it come out of her mouth, but she still made sure each word was clearly pronounced, and seemed to take his small nod as enough of an answer.

“AndcouldIborrowthatbookyouhave?”

That question was much more hurried, like she was afraid that it would either hurt to get it out or that she would be punished for asking it. Neither of which were very good signs, so Edmund blinked as he stared at her, his silence lasting longer simply because he was caught off guard by it.

“I don’t know which one you’re talking about, but sure. I haven’t gotten rid of any books recently, so it must still be here.”

When she brought her eyes back to look at his, there was no small amount of surprise on them. He didn’t quite get it; it sure was surprising that she’d come all the way here to ask (or all the way here to look at lichen and then took the opportunity to ask, whatever), but he couldn’t see why it was unexpected for him to agree. Even if it were only to get rid of her, what harm could it do to let her have a book he probably hadn’t opened in years?

Checking his watch to see if he still had time to spare (he didn’t, but what was going to happen during daylight hours? Reverse troll attack?), he walked back past her and to his cabin, keeping the door open in a gesture to allow her inside. She stepped in and walked purposefully to his bookshelf, easily selecting the volume she wanted: a relatively thin one on identification of the local arboreal flora.

“Thanks.” She said while looking down at it. “What would you like me to do when I’m done reading it?”

He didn’t really care.

“Well, where do you plan on reading it?”

Meiri looked at him and shrugged, scanning the area as if to look for a good shade to read under.

He took a deep breath, fighting back the unexpected idea of asking her if she wanted to read while he stayed in his post on top of the wall. But he didn’t need something to annoy him or distract him from the absolute Nothing he was supposed to monitor.

“Eh, you know where I live. Just leave it in front of the door inside a plastic bag or something in case it rains.”

That seemed to be enough, and she ducked her head in acknowledgement before walking away. His exhale was almost an amused snort as he turned around to do the same.

…......

She delivered the book back into his hands herself, in the end.

He had been off duty in his house, sitting on his couch and listening to the radio as he read the newspaper. It was now one day old, true, but surely that was an acceptable lag. He raised his eyes to the door after hearing two curt knocks, not having the chance to neither ask who it was nor tell them to come in before the door was slightly opened.

He saw nothing.

And then he lowered his gaze a whole bunch and saw Meiri looking at him.

“Oh, look at the time!” He gasped with mock brightness as he looked at the spot in his wrist where he usually wore his watch, currently bare. “It’s ‘little girls shouldn’t be out by themselves’ hours!”

Whereas she’d poked her head inside the house looking uncertain at first, Meiri began glaring at him immediately after that. He was getting used to that, truth be told. Wordlessly, she stepped inside with the book in her arms and closed the door behind herself, keeping her frown firmly in place as she walked towards him and handed him a piece of paper she’d been keeping inside of her hoodie’s pocket. Edmund only broke eye contact after taking it from her in order to read it. The paper seemed to have been ripped from a notebook and had a few sentences in cursive calligraphy.

“Dear sir,

We were informed that Meiri had a book that belongs to you and that she wanted to return it as soon as possible. As such, we made an exception and allowed her to go out after dinner tonight, seeing as she will be at school tomorrow morning. We trust that she will be safe in your presence, but feel no obligation to keep watch over her for any longer than necessary; she knows her way back.

In case there’s any need for it, have my personal phone number and also St. Anne’s.

XXXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXXX

Terry Hansen”

The signature was a sweeping scrawl Edmund was fairly sure no child could feign. Plus, now he had a means to contact her zookeepers, so that was a bonus.

What was not a bonus is that said zookeepers seemed to have as many brain cells as wild animals themselves. ‘We trust that she will be safe in your presence’, what bullshit was that? He had seen him exactly once, absolutely nothing guaranteed these imbeciles that Edmund wasn’t some sort of creep.

Unless they were trusting him on the grounds of him being a Patrol officer, in which case they were even bigger imbeciles.

“Fair enough.” He said, not mentioning any of that to the girl since none of it was her fault or under her control. “There’s no method to my shelf’s organisation, so feel free to leave it wherever.”

“I noticed.” He heard her grumble under her breath as she kneeled on top of the wooden chest directly underneath his shelves in order to reach them more easily.

“Yeah, and my best friend’s a librarian, can you believe it? Almost has a stroke any time she comes here.”

She blinked at him, surprised he had paid her any mind, and just… stood there awkwardly near the door, taking in the space even though she’d been there before, clearly uncertain of what to do. Deciding to take mercy on her, Edmund gestured to the empty spots on the couch and the chairs on the table. As she walked over to sit on the opposite edge of the sofa, he decided to see if he could break her silence.

“What did you think of it?”

“It was good.” She removed her white (well, grey) sneakers and turned to sit facing him, her legs crossed. “I took so long with it because I was writing down some notes about it in my notebook.”

He hummed, deciding not to comment on how her definition of ‘so long’ was four days.

“And are you already reading anything new?”

Meiri nodded, her voluminous hair bouncing slightly with it. “I was going to come earlier, but I began reading a book in the library and lost track of time.”

He was going to be a responsible adult. He was going to be a responsible and mature adult and he would not take advantage of the fact that she apparently frequented the library to teach her to mess with Kaisa.

He hated being an adult.

“Cool.” He put his newspaper down and got up from the couch, stretching his arms above his head after doing so. Her gaze followed him. “I’m gonna make tea. You want some?”

“Lemongrass?”

“You got it.”

This time he had actual lemongrass to brew in the kettle, so hopefully it would turn out better, even if she seemed to have enjoyed the first one. So maybe he should be hoping she’d like this one. You really never knew with kids.

“So-” He began as he took the leaves from their jar. “What’s yer book about?”

“Flower language.”

Edmund hummed. “And?”

“And?”

He turned his head back to look at her, finding her looking at him like he was displaying some sort of enigmatic behaviour she couldn’t crack. “What have you learned already? If ya don’t mind sharing.”

Edmund went back to pouring water inside the kettle, but not before seeing her blink in surprise. “You want me to tell you about it?”

“Well, if I didn’t I wouldn’t’ve asked, would I?”

“Why?”

Great question! He hated it.

“Flowers are cool.” And I wish I could have talked to people about what I liked when I was your age. “And I want some background noise; yer voice isn’t quite as annoying as I first thought.”

He turned the stovetop on and put the kettle atop of it, being showed her tongue as soon as he turned to her again. Edmund wasn’t an ass, at least he didn’t like to think of himself as one. But he had to admit that messing with this kid was pretty fun, especially since she was completely capable of giving as good as she got. Despite her indignation, true or otherwise, she began sharing what she’d learned so far when he sat back down. Reluctantly at first, but the more she realised he was actually listening the more she picked up in pace and energy.

“I don’t get why there are flowers that mean something as specific as ‘asking for forgiveness’” She said when they were both drinking their teas already; if she’d noticed any difference in taste from the previous one, she didn’t mention it. “Isn’t it much easier to actually go to someone and say sorry?”

Edmund rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I mean… kinda? It’s easier in the way that you don’t have to go looking for a flower and then give it to the person, but saying sorry can be hard sometimes, you know?”

That seemed to actually give her pause and make her think. “I’m not sure I do. Maybe it’s hard when you mean it. When you’re actually sorry. But usually when I apologise it’s just because someone is making me.”

He was not about to open that particular box right then and there, but he stored the information away for a later date. And then he got confused as to why he expected to ever see this girl again, anyway.

“That’s true. The more you regret something, the harder it is to face it. I think either flowers or a ‘sorry’ are fine. If someone wrongs you, it’s enough to have them acknowledge it in most cases.”

She tilted her head to the side. “In most cases?”

“Yeah. In some you do have to walk away from that person or relationship. But you shouldn’t worry about that, kid. It’ll come to you at the right time.”

Her head bobbed up and down as she nodded mindlessly, her gaze unfocused as she concentrated on whatever thought process she was going through rather than the world around her.

She actually looked a lot more calm than he’d ever seen her.

They finished their teas in companionable silence, having run out of flowers to talk about. Before leaving, she ducked her head in what he interpreted as a sign of respect.

He was probably just being delusional.

“Thank you for having me.” She said, clearly quoting a script but sounding genuine all the same.

“No worries. Can you do me a favour, kid?”

Rather than answering, she only looked at him, letting him know he had her attention.

“Ask Mr. Hansen to call me when you get home safely.”

He slipped a piece of paper with his number into her hand, and she nodded. The girl then went off into the night, and Edmund only closed the door when he could see her no longer.

…......

“No.”

“No?”

“Ya heard me.”

“Oh, come on! What would it even cost you?”

The grumpy witch crossed her arms and sat back against the back of her chair, upset that all of her neat and carefully presented arguments hadn’t had an effect on the man in front of her. Truly an ‘unstoppable force meets immovable object” kind of situation, but he was determined to be more resilient than she was insistent.

No small challenge, that was.

“Me? It’d cost me nothing.” She raised her hands above her head in clear frustration. “But it would cost you a lot. You can’t keep avoiding this, Kaisa. You need to talk to her.”

Kaisa slid down the back of her chair, groaning. “But I don’t want to!”

An eyebrow raised, Edmund twirled his cup so as to mix what’s inside - even though it was only pure black coffee - while he looked at the image in front of him. Had he known less about Kaisa’s life, he would have helped her in an instant. Asking an old lady to deliver a book to the library, how hard could it be? But he knew what she was really avoiding and couldn’t in good conscience enable that road she was going down.

“You don’t? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Do you want me to be thrown into the void?”

He was about to answer that yes, in fact, he’d have a blast if it came to that, when the cafe was suddenly filled with noise as a group of children swarmed in. They all wore the Edmund Ahlberg Elementary’s uniform and backpacks with multiple shapes, laughing, screaming, speaking over each other.

Kaisa had the exact reaction Edmund would have expected: cringing and clearly fighting (losing) the internal battle to resist the librarian urge to tell those kids to quiet down.

Edmund too groaned, looking behind himself as he had been facing opposite the cafe’s door to see what the fuss was all about. In a matter of moments they were both shooting the mass of kids their best Disapproving Adult Glares, which worked as well as one would expect (it didn’t work at all).

But they tried, they tried because they remembered having some respect (or fear) for adults when they were that age, so maybe the clout would come at some point and the kids would realise that they could still act like children, but keep it down just a notch.

They didn’t, but that attempt kept them looking and paying attention to the kids. It was clearly some sort of impromptu birthday party, since all of them were gathered around one child in specific, a boy with perfect golden hair, and trying to bargain a whole cake out of an unamused cashier.

“Popular kid.” Kaisa huffed with her arms crossed. “Can you even imagine talking to that many people in school?”

But Edmund was far more invested in the children’s conversation then Kaisa now, because one of the kids nearest to him - not close enough to the birthday boy to be their friends, nor disinterested looking enough to be loser kids, so likely bootlickers - began very loudly whispering for all in the vicinity to hear.

“Why did Meiri come along?” He asked the girl beside him. “Brannon doesn’t even like her.”

Whether that was his end goal or not, most kids in his periphery began giggling, mean comments of the sort spreading themselves throughout the mass of kids. Edmund frowned, scanning the group for a familiar pair of dark eyes.

And found them in the back, still near the entrance, clearly listening to everything that was being said and looking around at her peers like a caged animal that had nowhere to run to. And then she met his gaze.

Edmund only thought about what he was going to do for a split second. It wasn’t his problem, shouldn’t be of his interest, but the popular looking birthday boy began snickering along to the mean spirited comments and enough was enough.

“Meiri, there you are!” He said, cheerful like he usually only was when pretending and only loud enough to make it seem like it only interested him to be heard by the girl herself. He thought his acting was good enough. “We were waiting for you, come sit!”

All eyes turned to her, and even though she looked like she was clearly aware she hadn’t been left a choice, she hurried past her classmates to go to their table in the back, pretending to the best of her abilities that that was her plan all along.

“Child. At our table.” Kaisa said, very unhelpfully and even less coherently when Meiri was close enough to be standing practically by Edmund’s side. “Why is there a child at our table?”

“Because she walked here with her little child legs.” He answered, determined to be even more unhelpful.

Ignoring the argument, or the lack of one in front of her, Meiri glared at Edmund. “You didn’t have to do that.”

She sounded half like she was complaining, but oddly enough the other half seemed like she was acknowledging she’d been offered an easy way out of an awful situation. And Ed did keep in mind that she’d just been through a stressful couple of moments. It would be just normal for her to be a bit snappy.

“Of course not. But Kaisa and I were going to let a bunch of food go to waste as per usual, so you might as well sit down and help us out with that.”

Her eyes went first to the brunch spread, not really impressed at the amount of food but surprised that only two people seemed to have decided to share it. And then, her gaze went to Kaisa. The change was noticeable; her eyebrows rose and her lips parted slightly, clearly having decided in her young mind that the witch was the epitome of cool. Or, considering she was a regular library patron, she’d probably made that decision a long time ago and now was just amazed to be so close to her idol.

Edmund was not jealous.

“Meiri, this is Kaisa. She’s the friend I told you about. Kaisa, Meiri. She’s a nice little girl, that’s all you need to know.”

He wasn’t sure either of them had heard him. Slowly, without taking her eyes away from the librarian, Meiri pulled back the chair on Edmund’s side and sat down. Kaisa was also staring back at the child, and it was hilarious to see that he couldn’t tell who was more intimidated by who.

“I visit him sometimes.” Meiri added, as if finding the information he had provided to be unsatisfactory, and despite the fact that she had only visited him three times before.

Three times. That was actually a lot. How had that happened?

“You know, Ed.” Kaisa whispered, still looking at the now sitting child like she was seeing a ghost. Scratch that, she probably knew how to act more natural around ghosts. “When I told you to get yourself a child, I did mean legally.”

He groaned, rolling his eyes as he grabbed the cup that had been in front of Meiri’s seat to pour some of the berries tea that had come with their combo for her.

“I didn’t get myself a child.” He said, interrupting his explanation to put the steaming cup back in front of her with a ‘here, kid, this one is red berries flavoured. See if you like it and serve yourself to whatever, we’ve got plenty’. “She’s just a random girl who likes to play near my house. Nothing to it.”

Kaisa was staring at him like he’d gone insane.

“What the fuck?”

He immediately gasped, glaring at his friend just before turning to the girl who had been blowing on her tea, making her raise her brows.

“Don’t repeat that word until you are a teenager!”

“Ed, are you shitting me?”

“Or that!”

“Your name is Edward?”

Intentionally or not, she sure avoided the conversation escalating into an argument between the two adults. He opened and closed his mouth wordlessly, amazed that they’d gotten that far without her knowing his name. He cleared his throat.

“Edmund, actually.”

“Wow, your kid doesn’t even know your name?”

“You mean like the name of my school?” She tilted her head to the side. “I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t even need to elaborate. Her face clearly conveyed her impression regarding the figure of Edmund Ahlberg. Edmund was about to say he didn’t mind it, when Meiri sighed and spoke up again.

“It’d be so much more fair if people got to pick their own names.”

And then, of course, Kaisa could not resist the sweet allure of being a little shit.

“But that’s the worst part.” She giggled, and when Edmund’s glare only conveyed an ‘I’ll kill you’ anger rather than a ‘please don’t tell her’ fear, she continued. “He picked. He did that to himself, can you believe it?”

He threw his hands up in the air, having been over this countless times with Kaisa.

“It’s supposed to be ironic and funny!”

“It is funny! It’s a hilarious joke, but it’s at your expense!”

“Oh, fuck you.” His eyes became the size of their saucers as soon as he said that, immediately whipping his head to the side (and tilting it downwards) to reinforce what he’d just said about that word. To his surprise, what he saw wasn’t something he’d ever witnessed before.

Meiri was holding back laughter.

And because of that, he let Kaisa off the hook.

“Whatever. Meiri, what do you like?”

She blinked her big dark eyes at him. “Hm?”

“What do you like to eat for brunch? We have basically anything you can imagine.”

“Well…” It was clear the question confused her, but she scrambled to find an answer, not wanting to disappoint them and not really understanding why she was being offered any of it. “I’ve never had brunch before, so I don’t know. I like dates?”

“Okay, store your imagination away for a bit. We don’t have that, kid.”

“But you said-”

“I know, I know, it was a big overstatement. Now, do you like pancakes?”

The plate with pancakes was usually left untouched or missing one pancake that Kaisa may or may not pick depending on her mood. Considering it was a very child friendly food, Edmund picked it up from near his friend, who was watching the scene in front of her with great amusement, and put it in front of the little girl. She informed them she’d never eaten pancakes (to which they’d both sent her looks of horror), since the orphanage’s head cook, who essentially chose their meals, was an immigrant from a country where they didn’t really eat them. She said their breakfast was usually fruit with a cheese and ham sandwich, so Edmund grabbed her some slices of banana and strawberry that he was reasonably sure Kaisa wasn’t going to eat - and if she was planning to, she didn’t complain - and put them on top of the pancakes, hoping the added fruit would make the flavours more familiar to her.

And also make it so he wasn’t feeding this child who he was in no way in charge of a complete sugar bomb. Come to think of it, St. Anne’s cook had a good point. Who the hell had decided fried cake was an acceptable breakfast food?

They talked some more, and Kaisa eventually stopped looking at the girl like she was an alien, even if the girl didn’t stop looking at her like she was a famous rockstar quite just yet. The group of kids had decided the place was too expensive if they wanted to buy an entire cake with their own allowances, and left soon after having arrived; after that happened, and Edmund asked what in the world they had all been doing at school on a Saturday, Meiri disclosed that they were all part of a special science program for people who either enjoyed it or had an affinity.

Which sounded cool as hell, but Meiri didn’t speak of it with much fondness.

“Your tea’s better.” She told him after the waiter had left with the money they’d given him to get their change.

“Of course it is.” He scoffed, feeling playful before noticing with no small amount of surprise that that girl had actually complimented him. Or, well, something he did, but it was all the same in the end.

Together, him and Kaisa left a very good tip to their waiter, and the three of them got up at the same time. Edmund and Meiri led the way, with Kaisa choosing to follow them closely so she could entertain herself with the pair.

“It was good to see you eating, for once. Must spend a lot of energy with how much you climb around.”

“It was good to see you eating food for once.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” They were already outside at that point, so Ed was able to raise his voice just slightly.

“Sandwiches aren’t dinner.” Meiri stated, holding to her chest a textbook she’d taken out of her bag at some point to show them. “It’s what you ate when I met you, and I saw your toaster plugged on last time I visited you. That’s not a meal.”

“It’s a perfectly reasonable meal!”

“It is not.”

“Don’t ya know that grains are the base of the food pyramid?”

“Whole grains. The bread you use is whiter than you are.”

He gaped at her in stunned and indignant silence for a moment. “And I suppose you know everything about that, do you?”

“Not really. But I must know more than you since I don’t eat sandwiches every night.”

“You don’t know that I eat them every night!”

She shot him a very level knowing look.

“Well, fine. What would you have me eat, then, if you’re so wise in the ways of nutrition?”

Meiri went back to facing forward, shrugging. “Tia Teresa usually cooks us rice and beans with some type of meat. And salad.”

Oh. Actual actual food.

“Well, I’ll be a son of a woff. How mad will this woman be at me for having fed you pancakes?”

“Not much, probably. She thinks you’re kind to me.”

“Wait, she knows about me?” He stopped walking in order to ask her about it properly, but this only made Meiri duck her head and walk faster, so he actually ended up having to pick up his pace. She was surprisingly quick for someone with such short legs. “You told her about me?”

“Shut up!”

“No, I won’t! Aw, kid, you do care!”

He kept on lightly teasing her for it as she vehemently denied ever having mentioned his name, in the aggressive ways of an awful liar who thinks they can convince other people simply by reinforcing what’s being said. Kaisa watched this from behind, letting them get more and more distant since she was actually headed to the opposite side. They were still arguing (or maybe they were just talking, she wasn’t at all sure) when she lost sighmeirit of the pair, and she chuckled as she turned on her heels to go back home. She might not have gotten what she’d wanted to out of Edmund, but she sure had found something much more interesting that day.