[It's a good grin. He really is happy to see them. Even though they knew too much, they maintained an innocence. It makes them easy to be around. It makes him feel closer to the way he should be, rather than the way he is.
He laughs when they fluff up. He doesn't know what they mean when they say their hair remembers, but it's a child thing or a fairy thing.]
Sounds like a very interesting game. So, small nice secrets then? To be honest, I don't know that I've kept many nice things a secret.
[Just a few. Just because it seemed best.]
But I'm sure I'll come up with something. Let's play then. Show me how it's done and I'll follow after you.
Mm! Some were big and sad, some were nice and little... Some were sad and little! Sometimes they were angry.
[That in itself is something of a secret, they muse, but they'd had to make up for the tangle they'd already undone for him. As fresh as the memory seems with their ability for recall, it's so strange to think about the times they'd broken down in quiet, furious tears and tried to hide it. Even if they hadn't understood why, it was always better for them to hide that sort of thing back then, which is part of why knots became such a frequent game.]
It's a game you can play however you want.
[With a jaunt to their steps, they circle around so that they're in a good position for finding all those snags they can neatly sort out again. Mili gently pets his head first to try and acclimate him more to the idea of them being there. Then, even more gently, they slip fingers between messy strands and start to comb. Their voice is soft when they speak again, and there's almost a low, rumbling undertone along with it. Not quite a purr, but close enough.]
I had lots and lots, so I had to find all kinds of secrets to say. Changelings always, always get lots of tangles. It's one of the ways you can tell them apart from real children. I think... [The tangle is undone, and they smile into their secret.] ...that maybe I don't get so many anymore because I'm a 'real' child now. Mamá and Papá love me.
[He hums. Angry secrets. He always tried so hard to keep them behind his teeth. When they came free, they tore at him and all his old wounds. No matter who or what he lashed at, those barbs would swing around back to him.
He doesn't want to find angry secrets now. He doesn't want to see them scared of him-- or sad for him. He's already done enough.
He smiles at the little pat. His wings ruffle just slightly and shift so they're a little more out of the way while Mili gets in close. The purr is an inhuman thing, but it's a sweet thing, like the little noises Nekane made sometimes, old bird instincts slipping out before they'd become embarrassed by it.
But, it's when they comb through his hair that his breath shudders out and his eyes close out of real relief. One kind of touch not ruined. Demons might pull but only Nekane would be so careful. Nekane and Mili. It's a moment before he speaks.]
Is that what makes a real child? To be loved? [It makes his heart ache.] We had something in common then. I don't think I was ever a real child. But I never-- no, that's a lie. I minded a lot. In that place, there were many things that made us tell secrets. You know, that was the first secret I said? It was how I met my dear friend.
[They know that. They know he met Nekane while locked in a room, eyes bleeding, head aching, begging them to please, please, say something so it would stop. And they caved simply because he was willing to give more. It had to be fair.]
I'm not sure what secrets I'll find when it's my turn. You know so many. Even that one, that I was... resentful. [His hand moves to his arm where the word has been carved in.] I'm not anymore. I found something good, like you. I'm glad that your new family's been good to you too.
[They force themself to listen patiently, as much as they want to interrupt. They're happy to hear him venture his thoughts over to that dear friend of his again, and it tempers their anxious tongue enough that they can relax into a soft smile. There aren't a lot of things they know, for all the knowledge granted to them through memories, but they're confident in thinking that he can be a real child, even though he's grown up, by the metric they'd given. He's loved now. Maybe it wasn't always those words, but he was so loved. Much more than he could know. Mili strokes through the bit they'd already fixed and fights the urge to kiss the top of his head.]
That's silly. Telling a secret is telling a secret, even if someone already knows. [And some of it was put away in boxes. There were the boxes they weren't allowed to open, of course, but also a few that just held clutter so they wouldn't get too heavy and confused under the weight of all they'd learned.] Like -- hmmm... [They hum while they locate another knot and think.] I visit a friend my family doesn't know about. I like him a lot, even if he isn't always fun. He makes my heart thankful.
[He hums in thought. And then he listens, and they praise him without even saying his name. This sweet child. This good kid. What a heartbreak it is to know they were ever anything but loved. What a relief to know they're loved now.
He laughs a little to hear them admit he's not always fun, then smiles softly again.]
Well, I have a friend I like a lot too. They visit me. I am very surprised they don't mind the lack of fun. But I worry, to think I am their secret. I think of their family, and the worry they must have when that friend is away.
[He laughs and they smile, pleased with themself for opening the door to such a beautiful sound, even if they've also opened the door for his implied question. Well, he's just playing the game. Really, they should only be proud about this.]
My family probably worries when I visit you, but they worry when I go to the plaza, or play with toys my tíos made, or tell tales of riding dande-lions to flee from wild birds. There are a lot of dangerous things in the world. Dangerous people. Really, really horrible stuff that just happens sometimes, and no one can give you the answer you need to be okay. There are lots of reasons to be worried. Every new person I meet, I learn ten thousand more. Now I know you, and I'd worry about you, not getting to see you while I still worried my family some other way. I'd be worried if they weren't worried, because...I think worry is the fear of having to miss. I'd like to be missed when I'm gone.
[They know his struggles. They don't mean to take a knife to his heart while their hands gently lull him into vulnerability. That also know that...things have changed, now. And something they've always known is that they can't be dishonest.]
Until I am, I think I want to make sure...there are people that know I'll miss them, too. Moments I'll always carry with me.
[He doesn't know how to feel about all that, mostly because he feels a whole lot at once. He could see himself having those same worries. Especially about dangerous things and people. He thinks, forevermore, he'll be wary of that.
Really, really horrible stuff that just happens sometimes, and no one can give you the answer you need to be okay. His eyes close at that. Another truth, for no one, not even God, had helped him there.
It feels like tearing several wounds before the balm is applied. Those last words are so sweet, even as they sting. He won't weep in front of a child. He won't.]
I'm not good at hugs anymore. I feel out of control, less me, like my skin is crawling. But part of me still wants to. When my friend says things like that, I want to hug them, but I'm afraid of how afraid I will seem.
[They'd so readily hug him. So, so readily, and it's hard to hold back even as he admits his fear. They want to kiss the top of his head. They want to curl up in his lap and fall asleep against him as if he'd been reading a bedtime story to them in a cozy chair, instead of sharing aches in some run down cottage in the woods. Mili draws his hair back and lets it slip through their fingers like water with a hum.
They teeter on another secret, but in the end they decide to try and present a solution first. Fewer things to worry about, maybe.]
I'm going to do some magic, but not to you. Don't worry.
[They just don't want to surprise him more than they have to.
Coming from behind him pads a dog at about knee level, head a little lowered submissively. Its fluffy black fur has a gentle curl to it, and along its back in grey there's the suggestion of the same pattern on Mili's mothy wings. It shares the little antennae, too.
Mili peeks up at him from wide, rich brown eyes, and gives a little wag of their tail. Their voice is the same, if a little hesitant.]
Is this better...?
[Everybody likes dogs. Dogs were gentle and comforting! Not like cats.]
[Even with all the tangled knots of fear and grief, feeling Mili comb through his hair with their fingers makes him want to close his eyes and lean into it, to unravel in the same way as the tangles of Mili's story.]
Okay.
[He's a little confused as to what magic might be coming, up until he sees the dog appear. He blinks down at it. He can't help but let out a faint laugh of surprise.
Tentatively, he reaches out and runs a hand over the fairy-dog's head.]
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storywalks) wrote2021-09-20 05:37 pm
no subject
He laughs when they fluff up. He doesn't know what they mean when they say their hair remembers, but it's a child thing or a fairy thing.]
Sounds like a very interesting game. So, small nice secrets then? To be honest, I don't know that I've kept many nice things a secret.
[Just a few. Just because it seemed best.]
But I'm sure I'll come up with something. Let's play then. Show me how it's done and I'll follow after you.
no subject
[That in itself is something of a secret, they muse, but they'd had to make up for the tangle they'd already undone for him. As fresh as the memory seems with their ability for recall, it's so strange to think about the times they'd broken down in quiet, furious tears and tried to hide it. Even if they hadn't understood why, it was always better for them to hide that sort of thing back then, which is part of why knots became such a frequent game.]
It's a game you can play however you want.
[With a jaunt to their steps, they circle around so that they're in a good position for finding all those snags they can neatly sort out again. Mili gently pets his head first to try and acclimate him more to the idea of them being there. Then, even more gently, they slip fingers between messy strands and start to comb. Their voice is soft when they speak again, and there's almost a low, rumbling undertone along with it. Not quite a purr, but close enough.]
I had lots and lots, so I had to find all kinds of secrets to say. Changelings always, always get lots of tangles. It's one of the ways you can tell them apart from real children. I think... [The tangle is undone, and they smile into their secret.] ...that maybe I don't get so many anymore because I'm a 'real' child now. Mamá and Papá love me.
no subject
He doesn't want to find angry secrets now. He doesn't want to see them scared of him-- or sad for him. He's already done enough.
He smiles at the little pat. His wings ruffle just slightly and shift so they're a little more out of the way while Mili gets in close. The purr is an inhuman thing, but it's a sweet thing, like the little noises Nekane made sometimes, old bird instincts slipping out before they'd become embarrassed by it.
But, it's when they comb through his hair that his breath shudders out and his eyes close out of real relief. One kind of touch not ruined. Demons might pull but only Nekane would be so careful. Nekane and Mili. It's a moment before he speaks.]
Is that what makes a real child? To be loved? [It makes his heart ache.] We had something in common then. I don't think I was ever a real child. But I never-- no, that's a lie. I minded a lot. In that place, there were many things that made us tell secrets. You know, that was the first secret I said? It was how I met my dear friend.
[They know that. They know he met Nekane while locked in a room, eyes bleeding, head aching, begging them to please, please, say something so it would stop. And they caved simply because he was willing to give more. It had to be fair.]
I'm not sure what secrets I'll find when it's my turn. You know so many. Even that one, that I was... resentful. [His hand moves to his arm where the word has been carved in.] I'm not anymore. I found something good, like you. I'm glad that your new family's been good to you too.
no subject
That's silly. Telling a secret is telling a secret, even if someone already knows. [And some of it was put away in boxes. There were the boxes they weren't allowed to open, of course, but also a few that just held clutter so they wouldn't get too heavy and confused under the weight of all they'd learned.] Like -- hmmm... [They hum while they locate another knot and think.] I visit a friend my family doesn't know about. I like him a lot, even if he isn't always fun. He makes my heart thankful.
no subject
[He hums in thought. And then he listens, and they praise him without even saying his name. This sweet child. This good kid. What a heartbreak it is to know they were ever anything but loved. What a relief to know they're loved now.
He laughs a little to hear them admit he's not always fun, then smiles softly again.]
Well, I have a friend I like a lot too. They visit me. I am very surprised they don't mind the lack of fun. But I worry, to think I am their secret. I think of their family, and the worry they must have when that friend is away.
no subject
My family probably worries when I visit you, but they worry when I go to the plaza, or play with toys my tíos made, or tell tales of riding dande-lions to flee from wild birds. There are a lot of dangerous things in the world. Dangerous people. Really, really horrible stuff that just happens sometimes, and no one can give you the answer you need to be okay. There are lots of reasons to be worried. Every new person I meet, I learn ten thousand more. Now I know you, and I'd worry about you, not getting to see you while I still worried my family some other way. I'd be worried if they weren't worried, because...I think worry is the fear of having to miss. I'd like to be missed when I'm gone.
[They know his struggles. They don't mean to take a knife to his heart while their hands gently lull him into vulnerability. That also know that...things have changed, now. And something they've always known is that they can't be dishonest.]
Until I am, I think I want to make sure...there are people that know I'll miss them, too. Moments I'll always carry with me.
no subject
Really, really horrible stuff that just happens sometimes, and no one can give you the answer you need to be okay. His eyes close at that. Another truth, for no one, not even God, had helped him there.
It feels like tearing several wounds before the balm is applied. Those last words are so sweet, even as they sting. He won't weep in front of a child. He won't.]
I'm not good at hugs anymore. I feel out of control, less me, like my skin is crawling. But part of me still wants to. When my friend says things like that, I want to hug them, but I'm afraid of how afraid I will seem.
no subject
They teeter on another secret, but in the end they decide to try and present a solution first. Fewer things to worry about, maybe.]
I'm going to do some magic, but not to you. Don't worry.
[They just don't want to surprise him more than they have to.
Coming from behind him pads a dog at about knee level, head a little lowered submissively. Its fluffy black fur has a gentle curl to it, and along its back in grey there's the suggestion of the same pattern on Mili's mothy wings. It shares the little antennae, too.
Mili peeks up at him from wide, rich brown eyes, and gives a little wag of their tail. Their voice is the same, if a little hesitant.]
Is this better...?
[Everybody likes dogs. Dogs were gentle and comforting! Not like cats.]
no subject
Okay.
[He's a little confused as to what magic might be coming, up until he sees the dog appear. He blinks down at it. He can't help but let out a faint laugh of surprise.
Tentatively, he reaches out and runs a hand over the fairy-dog's head.]
... A little.
[He draws back, only to pat his lap.]
Care to come up?