Illyria was not, per se, sleeping in, since she hadn't bothered going to sleep after last night's radio fiasco. She had instead spent the dark hours of the morning slicing at imaginary opponents in the preserve with her newly-returned sword, before she had to once again stow it in the weapons locker
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He was already jumping onto the narrow bed by the time he got to schlooooop, and trying to crawl into her arms on 'sketti.'
"Can we have that for lunch? Where's Dad? Why're you blue?"
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She pushed the child away from her firmly, but not with enough force to harm it. "Do not touch me! I am not your mother; aren't human children supposed to recognize their parents by the time they can speak?"
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"You mad at me?" he asked, eyes huge. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to go by the portal, mommy, honest!"
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Illyria, honey, he's three. Your logic, despite it almost approaching Earth logic today, is not going to work on him.
"Who are you? Who is your mother? Go to her, and leave me be."
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Instead of the bawling, he went for yelling right back.
"My name is Mitchell Roger Wyndam-Pryce and my daddy's name is Wesley and my mommy's name is Fred and I live at three twenty-two Svulpeda Bovelard--"
Not quite, Mitch.
"--and I dunno why you're YELLING AT ME I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! If you're not my mommy then you're A BAD VAMPIRE AND YOU HURT HER AND I HATE YOU!"
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She'd stared at the toy lying there on the blanket for a full five seconds before she realized the word had been spoken aloud, not entirely in her own voice.
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Why can't I stay? was all that echoed in reply.
"I am not a vampire," she said, aloud and in her own words. "Nor am I your mother; I merely look like her." When she opened her eyes again, Illyria stood up, and put out her hand. "Come with me."
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Again with the Earth logic. Also, note the part where she didn't claim not to have hurt his mother. "You've traveled here from a divergent timestream. If events proceed as I've been told such things do, you'll be returned to your parents within several days. Until then, I'll take you to someone who can properly monitor your well-being."
Hand: still out.
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Look, he was smart, okay, and kind of mature for his age, which happened when your parents had more degrees than anybody had a right to and books at hand that could, with a whispered request, explain harmonic convergences and demonic possession in language any three year old could understand, but he was still three.
"Now, now, now!" Which, coincidentally, was when the actual bawling started. The loud, hicuppy sobbing sort.
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Yes, that was kind of unfair, since she wasn't taking him to Fred, couldn't take him to Fred even if she wished to, but child. Wailing. In her room. And smacking her shins with a stuffed rabbit now. While something made disgusting sounds of grief at lost futures and the cruelty of the universe from the back of her skull, and enough.
She bent down and scooped the boy up, throwing him over her shoulder. She gripped the back of his trousers as he kicked and hit at her, and made her way out the door, "Let me gooooo! Mom! Mom!" ringing in her ears.
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