13 ASH 121
Something did not sit right with him, and he did not know what it was. It wasn’t the same as the unease that had hit him last season, but it was something. A brewing dread that settled first in his stomach then traveled through to the rest of him. He blinked, glanced down at the book in his hands. The images copied studiously by whoever had compiled the art collection were vivid, colorful pieces that had never failed to bring up his mood. Until now. The serenity of staring at someone sitting in a sea of color fish and floating tides that used to invoke a sense of wonder were almost dismal. Thysbae sighed, turning the page.
The next piece was much less useful. The reds bled together to make the image of a face, gentle and kind as it stared down from the corner of the copied painting to the couple dancing in the rain. A rain of reds and purples and blues. He liked the red, usually, but now it made his stomach roll. He patted his tummy mournfully. Maybe he was just hungry. Maybe he was just not feeling well with his nose still healing and it being pointless to go out to the greenhouse. He wouldn’t be able to smell anything. But it would still be nice to sit out there.
His brows furrowed as he contemplated his choices. But the dread remained. It held fast as he pushed himself up to return the book to its place in the library of the Monteliyet Estate. This dread was not a foreign one to him, though. Thysbae tried often not to think of it, but somewhere in the back of his mind — he knew. Something bad had been done and he might have been the cause of it. He just wasn’t sure what it was in relation to.
The last time this feeling had overcome him, his mother had just died and he was left alone. Not alone; Thys was there, too, but he hadn’t cared the way Bae had about it. He’d always wondered why that was. As terrible as their mother had been, she was their mother. Had still kept him alive throughout the years, and he was sure that counted for something. Didn’t it? He blinked, and realized with a start that his eyes had started to water. Maybe he was hungry if he was already moved to tears by a thought.
The clop of his hooves echoed as he made his way to the kitchens to see if there might be anything he could snack while he waited for dinner. The servants glanced his way, busy with their work. One of the older ladies smiled, wiped her hands on her apron as she approached.
“And what, pray tell, are you looking to sink your teeth into this time?”
Yes; they knew him well here. This was perhaps where Thysbae had first made himself comfortable, peering in for several days for hours on end before he’d finally worked up the courage to go in. And even then, it had taken him more time to be able to ask for anything without feeling as though he were imposing. Now, though, there was ease with how quickly he slipped in. Those who noticed him would either chuckle or sigh, giving him a pat on the head as the grey-haired woman did now.
“This One would like an apple, please.”
“Easy enough for the little lord.” His cheeks reddened at the words and she chuckled, reaching into a bowl to grab the requested fruit. That was the rule: he mustn’t touch anything, but he could certainly ask. She wiped it down on her apron as she had done her hands. She placed the apple in his outstretched hand. “I can’t go about the fancy cutting today. We’re a little behind on dinner, but if you want another snack you come right in.”
Bae nodded, careful of his antlers so that they wouldn’t get too close with the action. “Thank you!” And with that, he clopped off.
Oh — but that sense of dread. The distraction of interaction was gone, and he was forced to focus on the way his steps felt too hurried. That his grip on the fruit was much too tight for something so small. His knuckles had gone white. He stopped. The hall, empty of people save himself, felt all too quiet. All too much.
Bae bit into the apple without further thought. The squelch of the bite was rivaled only by the crunch of his teeth breaking the skin and sinking into the sweet flesh of the apple. He winced, pulling the apple away from his mouth. His free hand flew to his teeth as the dull ache of pain lingered before it was swept away by slightly surprise. The white flesh of the apple had been tainted, pink by the blood from his gum. Too rough a bite. His tongue swept over the offended area, felt the bulge of his teeth under his gums and for a moment he didn’t feel so — dreadful. He had been hungry, it seemed.
He’d hardly taken another step before he caught his own reflection in the window in the hall. The sun had faded beyond the horizon, leaving him with the darkness of the estate grounds to stare out at. It made his reflection clearer, something he observed with a small measure of curiosity. In the darkness, as his eyes shut for a blink — the quickest flash of a memory. Of something.
Red, so much red. Flesh marred by red, floors covered in it; his hands. He blinked twice more and those short flashes were gone. Just his reflection staring back at him in the window. And something else. Too far off for him to see immediately. Thysbae stepped closer, squinting to try to see better. The fruit in his hand was almost forgotten until it bumped into the wall with him stepping too close. The start of a giggle — he was being silly; there was nothing out there — left him before he fell abruptly silent.
Red, the skin of the apple. Red, the splotch of blood on the white flesh. Red, the squirming mass in his hands. A heart, no longer beating. Slipping through his fingers. Another set of hands wrapped around his own as his breath hitched, gaze lifting to the owner of them.
“Adora?” She grinned in answer. The tips of her hair were stained red, as if dripping off the strands that usually looked closer to a soft lavender. A vivid, too bright purple now. “What’s happening?”
“Nothing we haven’t seen already.”
What did that mean? He looked down to the heart-apple-thing in his hands. For how confused he was, he felt...calm. He breathed in deep, turned it over. The slick jiggle of it in his hands was familiar, but foreign to him all at once. Bae looked up again to Adora, as if to ask her question, and she brushed back a lock of hair from his face. A curl gone astray.
“Why does This One know this sound?”
“Because we’ve heard it before.”
“We have?”
“Mmm.” She took a step around him. He craned his neck to follow her movements. Her legs lifted in a prance before she turned to face him again. “We’ve done a lot of things, Bae.”
“Good things?”
Adora grinned, smile too wide. But Bae did not mind. He had always found that she smiled like that when he said something she liked. He was rewarded with a pat on his head. “Very good things.” Her shoulder slumped though. “Thys will say otherwise, but don’t listen to him. We’ve always been so good, Bae. So very good.”
Nothing about what she said sounded odd to him. Never had. Because she always said they were good. Bae liked being good. He tried his best to be good, and this was the assurance he needed. This dread that plagued him was nothing more than a bad feeling that would go away. It had done so when he’d taken a bite from his apple.
“We’re going to do even more good things, Bae. Help a lot of good people be their very best.” Adora turned to stare out the window, her sigh wistful. “Just like we helped Ava and Florian.”
“But — Florian is sad, and far away.” He stepped up beside her. “This One saw him. He was...upset about something.”
Adora only looked mildly annoyed with him. A soft scowl on her lips, brows furrowed. Heart-shaped pupils ringed in a bright pink stared him down for a moment. But before he could cower back, she smiled again. “That’s okay. Sometimes, you have to feel sad for a little bit before things get better. Like we did. We were so sad before the reconciliators brought us here, right? All lonely, with Mommy gone.” She turned fully, placed her hands on his shoulders, slid them up to cup his cheeks and pinch the fullness of them. “But now we have Aunties and Uncles and a grandpa. We didn’t have that before, right? And now we’re happy.”
He nodded, gaze averting. “But This One wasn’t always lonely.” When he did finally look up at her, she was pouting. As if disappointed her words were being marginally contradicted. “Because he had you and Thys.”
She blinked owlishly, then — she giggled. A small bubble of sound that grew until she was having a full-on fit, his face still in her hands. She pulled him closer, pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips. “We’re a good boy, Bae.” Whispered against his cheek, over and over again.
“Thysbae?”
He blinked. Adora was gone, but her words lingered. He turned, held the apple behind him. His grin was sheepish, as the older woman walked forward. As if he’d been caught red-handed.
“Dinner is ready. Go wash up and come eat.”
“Right away! This One will be quick.”
The old cook smiled. “Good boy.”
He was a good boy, indeed.
The next piece was much less useful. The reds bled together to make the image of a face, gentle and kind as it stared down from the corner of the copied painting to the couple dancing in the rain. A rain of reds and purples and blues. He liked the red, usually, but now it made his stomach roll. He patted his tummy mournfully. Maybe he was just hungry. Maybe he was just not feeling well with his nose still healing and it being pointless to go out to the greenhouse. He wouldn’t be able to smell anything. But it would still be nice to sit out there.
His brows furrowed as he contemplated his choices. But the dread remained. It held fast as he pushed himself up to return the book to its place in the library of the Monteliyet Estate. This dread was not a foreign one to him, though. Thysbae tried often not to think of it, but somewhere in the back of his mind — he knew. Something bad had been done and he might have been the cause of it. He just wasn’t sure what it was in relation to.
The last time this feeling had overcome him, his mother had just died and he was left alone. Not alone; Thys was there, too, but he hadn’t cared the way Bae had about it. He’d always wondered why that was. As terrible as their mother had been, she was their mother. Had still kept him alive throughout the years, and he was sure that counted for something. Didn’t it? He blinked, and realized with a start that his eyes had started to water. Maybe he was hungry if he was already moved to tears by a thought.
The clop of his hooves echoed as he made his way to the kitchens to see if there might be anything he could snack while he waited for dinner. The servants glanced his way, busy with their work. One of the older ladies smiled, wiped her hands on her apron as she approached.
“And what, pray tell, are you looking to sink your teeth into this time?”
Yes; they knew him well here. This was perhaps where Thysbae had first made himself comfortable, peering in for several days for hours on end before he’d finally worked up the courage to go in. And even then, it had taken him more time to be able to ask for anything without feeling as though he were imposing. Now, though, there was ease with how quickly he slipped in. Those who noticed him would either chuckle or sigh, giving him a pat on the head as the grey-haired woman did now.
“This One would like an apple, please.”
“Easy enough for the little lord.” His cheeks reddened at the words and she chuckled, reaching into a bowl to grab the requested fruit. That was the rule: he mustn’t touch anything, but he could certainly ask. She wiped it down on her apron as she had done her hands. She placed the apple in his outstretched hand. “I can’t go about the fancy cutting today. We’re a little behind on dinner, but if you want another snack you come right in.”
Bae nodded, careful of his antlers so that they wouldn’t get too close with the action. “Thank you!” And with that, he clopped off.
Oh — but that sense of dread. The distraction of interaction was gone, and he was forced to focus on the way his steps felt too hurried. That his grip on the fruit was much too tight for something so small. His knuckles had gone white. He stopped. The hall, empty of people save himself, felt all too quiet. All too much.
Bae bit into the apple without further thought. The squelch of the bite was rivaled only by the crunch of his teeth breaking the skin and sinking into the sweet flesh of the apple. He winced, pulling the apple away from his mouth. His free hand flew to his teeth as the dull ache of pain lingered before it was swept away by slightly surprise. The white flesh of the apple had been tainted, pink by the blood from his gum. Too rough a bite. His tongue swept over the offended area, felt the bulge of his teeth under his gums and for a moment he didn’t feel so — dreadful. He had been hungry, it seemed.
He’d hardly taken another step before he caught his own reflection in the window in the hall. The sun had faded beyond the horizon, leaving him with the darkness of the estate grounds to stare out at. It made his reflection clearer, something he observed with a small measure of curiosity. In the darkness, as his eyes shut for a blink — the quickest flash of a memory. Of something.
Red, so much red. Flesh marred by red, floors covered in it; his hands. He blinked twice more and those short flashes were gone. Just his reflection staring back at him in the window. And something else. Too far off for him to see immediately. Thysbae stepped closer, squinting to try to see better. The fruit in his hand was almost forgotten until it bumped into the wall with him stepping too close. The start of a giggle — he was being silly; there was nothing out there — left him before he fell abruptly silent.
Red, the skin of the apple. Red, the splotch of blood on the white flesh. Red, the squirming mass in his hands. A heart, no longer beating. Slipping through his fingers. Another set of hands wrapped around his own as his breath hitched, gaze lifting to the owner of them.
“Adora?” She grinned in answer. The tips of her hair were stained red, as if dripping off the strands that usually looked closer to a soft lavender. A vivid, too bright purple now. “What’s happening?”
“Nothing we haven’t seen already.”
What did that mean? He looked down to the heart-apple-thing in his hands. For how confused he was, he felt...calm. He breathed in deep, turned it over. The slick jiggle of it in his hands was familiar, but foreign to him all at once. Bae looked up again to Adora, as if to ask her question, and she brushed back a lock of hair from his face. A curl gone astray.
“Why does This One know this sound?”
“Because we’ve heard it before.”
“We have?”
“Mmm.” She took a step around him. He craned his neck to follow her movements. Her legs lifted in a prance before she turned to face him again. “We’ve done a lot of things, Bae.”
“Good things?”
Adora grinned, smile too wide. But Bae did not mind. He had always found that she smiled like that when he said something she liked. He was rewarded with a pat on his head. “Very good things.” Her shoulder slumped though. “Thys will say otherwise, but don’t listen to him. We’ve always been so good, Bae. So very good.”
Nothing about what she said sounded odd to him. Never had. Because she always said they were good. Bae liked being good. He tried his best to be good, and this was the assurance he needed. This dread that plagued him was nothing more than a bad feeling that would go away. It had done so when he’d taken a bite from his apple.
“We’re going to do even more good things, Bae. Help a lot of good people be their very best.” Adora turned to stare out the window, her sigh wistful. “Just like we helped Ava and Florian.”
“But — Florian is sad, and far away.” He stepped up beside her. “This One saw him. He was...upset about something.”
Adora only looked mildly annoyed with him. A soft scowl on her lips, brows furrowed. Heart-shaped pupils ringed in a bright pink stared him down for a moment. But before he could cower back, she smiled again. “That’s okay. Sometimes, you have to feel sad for a little bit before things get better. Like we did. We were so sad before the reconciliators brought us here, right? All lonely, with Mommy gone.” She turned fully, placed her hands on his shoulders, slid them up to cup his cheeks and pinch the fullness of them. “But now we have Aunties and Uncles and a grandpa. We didn’t have that before, right? And now we’re happy.”
He nodded, gaze averting. “But This One wasn’t always lonely.” When he did finally look up at her, she was pouting. As if disappointed her words were being marginally contradicted. “Because he had you and Thys.”
She blinked owlishly, then — she giggled. A small bubble of sound that grew until she was having a full-on fit, his face still in her hands. She pulled him closer, pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips. “We’re a good boy, Bae.” Whispered against his cheek, over and over again.
“Thysbae?”
He blinked. Adora was gone, but her words lingered. He turned, held the apple behind him. His grin was sheepish, as the older woman walked forward. As if he’d been caught red-handed.
“Dinner is ready. Go wash up and come eat.”
“Right away! This One will be quick.”
The old cook smiled. “Good boy.”
He was a good boy, indeed.
