Learning to Live 10: Thinking and Thinking
Title: Learning to Live 10: Thinking and Thinking
Author: purplerhino
Disclaimer: ::Ahem:: Points to all previous disclaimers.
Spoilers: Everything.
Rating: PG-16
Characters/Pairing: DG/Cain, AZ/Jeb, Glitch /SemiOC
Summary: God save us all, she’s a morning person.
For my Betas: erinm_4600, bets_cyn, and n_e_star
Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine
Scraps walked silently around in the dark, just outside the camp, keeping her eyes away from the fire--for the most part. The light blinded her to the night. She was on watch: she was given the job. Peace offering or not, she would do it well.
She would be hurting, if DG hadn’t done something with the light and making most of the red on her skin go away; it was only pink now and felt just a little tight. Not anywhere near as tight as it had felt while riding with Glitch. Much better now.
It was only then that she realized she remembered everyone’s names. The first day she had repeated each of them to herself multiple times, to get them all right. And when she felt something slipping away she started the chant in her head once more. They didn’t notice, aside from her teasing two nights ago. But then, none of them knew just how unusual that was. She took months and months to keep a name she wanted to remember; but these were stuck. DG, Wyatt, Jeb and Glitch. It was like they belonged in her head so her brain made room, nestled them in there and held them fast.
She knew she was meant to be in that place. The rooms with the first food she’d had in a while. She had to be there. She had to feel the hurting rip through her so the kind-eyed man of tin would take her home, so she could be here now. She belonged here. With DG, Wyatt, Jeb and Glitch. Although Jeb belonged with someone else, and yet another seemed to be missing, She knew it, but didn’t know specifics.
She felt her own belonging here was mixed with that dream. She couldn’t remember things, but sometimes she remembered that one dream; maybe because she had the dream many times? It was a silly dream, but it seemed important. She dreamt of a scarecrow in a cornfield. There were crows and peacocks and songbirds in the corn; not all belonged in the corn, but they were all around the scarecrow. Then there was a great wind. It was hard and unyielding, bending even the corn down, sending the birds scrambling. A patchwork quilt was ripped from a clothesline, and flew on the wind, only to wrap around the scarecrow. The wind picked up, harder. The quilt started to fly away again, but got stuck; held fast by the scarecrow that wouldn’t let it be carried off again.
It was a silly dream; stupid to remember it when so many things slipped through her mind, like water through fingers.
Something was coming. The bad man… the collector. She didn’t remember his name because she didn’t want to. If she didn’t know his name anymore, she was taking some of his power away. It had to do with him. Everyone here, her friends: DG, Wyatt, Jeb and Glitch, were going to face bad things. Because she would lead them there. Maybe she should tell them to run. Run far away.
Scraps shivered and looked over to the fire, willing to be blinded for a moment. Glitch and Jeb had gone to their own tents. The Princess and the Tin Man sat with their sides pressed tight to one another, talking so quietly they couldn’t be heard over the snap-pop of the fire or the songs of the insects looking for mates. Did they know they were blinding? Their head leaned in to one another, like they were trying to both be in the same exact place. The light in their eyes wasn’t only from the fire. Would anyone ever look at her with eyes that glowed?
Scraps looked away, both warmed by the sight and feeling bad that she’d seen something that should be private. It wasn’t like they were kissing, or doing any of the other things married people did. She could faintly remember snatches of being married, though she knew it wasn’t hers; of feeling love and knowing she was loved in return. Love hadn’t saved her, the one who was a part of Scraps now. She didn’t know their names. That was wrong; she should at least be able to honor their names somehow.
She was so glad he was stone, the collector. He was evil, bad to the core; he withered what he touched. The collector of lives, who valued things and power, seeing the beauty in nothing.
So why did she feel he was still able to hurt them all?
She circled the camp, eyes and ears seeking any sign of the cold wind, the man of stone, or any danger that might hurt her friends. She only wished she knew how to fight.
By the time DG relieved her, Scraps was almost in tears. She couldn’t explain it to the Princess, because she didn’t know why herself. So she sought her nest of canvas and wool and the solace of dreams. She just hoped they were her own.
***
Come morning the first thing done after an oat porridge breakfast was to send out the package of letters. DG had memorized a spot on her mother’s desk, left under a glass case so as it wouldn’t be disturbed. She could magically send the packet there.
Cain had written an official sounding report, including a map she had drawn to show their current location and that of the suspected trading spot.
DG wrote a small, personal letter to her parents, another short missive to Raw, and a longer, more detailed letter to her sister. Glitch had placed a letter to the Queen inside the pouch, and DG noticed Jeb slipping something into the pouch as well.
DG sent the pouch of communications off and they geared up to climb that damn steep incline.
Climbing the incline to the first ledge was not as hard as it had looked, for Scraps, at least; she was smart enough to bring a rope which she tied to the sturdiest of the trees clinging to the rocks with determined roots. The others used it to help them or steady them, as they climbed. It wasn’t a sheer rock face, but the angle was steep.
While she waited for them to catch up, she did a slow backflip while grinning madly; whatever had bothered her last night was apparently forgotten. She had told them this place made her nervous, but there was no sign of it as she bounded with energy and happiness at the new day.
“God save us all, she’s a morning person. And should a human being be able to bend like that?” DG looked up to where Scraps was now standing on one leg. Her other, impossibly in the air almost perpendicular to her body, foot over her head.
Wyatt was behind her, and she knew it was partly so he could catch her if she started to fall and partly so he could watch her ass. He’d never admit the latter, however.
“And, no, I won’t ask for lessons.”
“What? Did I say anything?” He looked at DG in surprise.
“No, you were thinking it. I could tell. My Wyatt-senses were tingling.” Having reached the ledge, she held out her hand and made the pretense of helping her husband up.
“Your what was what?”
He was truly confused now, and she thought it made him all the more adorable. He was gorgeous all the time, but a befuddled Wyatt was just… cute. And he’d have a cow if she ever told him that.
“It’s around here somewhere,” Scraps announced.
The ledge they were on was a good eight feet wide and stretched off in either direction.
“There’s nothing here, kid.” Wyatt apparently preferred stating the obvious, rather than trying to figure DG out.
“It’s here,” Scraps insisted. At least she was no longer being all… bendy.
“I doubt it would be obvious, Dad.” Jeb and Glitch had reached the ledge as well.
DG became aware of a feeling - like cloth tickling her skin. No one else seemed to notice it. “Wait. There’s something here.”
Her eyes scanned the steeper slope above them. Nothing was visible. Oh… but why would a magician leave it visible?
“Hold on, guys. There’s an illusion involved. I know there is.” DG felt excited now. This magic stuff was still new and interesting; she might not be able to bend like a twisty straw, but she could outdo Samantha Stevens. And she didn’t need the nose-twitch.
The tickling cloth feeling went away when she moved about five feet to the left. She moved back and, after pacing, it seemed to only be in the one area.
Okay then. If the cloth wanted to brush along her… She reached out and grasped at what she couldn’t see, but could feel. She then gave a good pull.
It wasn’t real cloth, and the illusion didn’t fall away so much as flicker out.
They stood before two large, metal doors. There were no handles or any obvious way to get in, but there was a box in the center of the line between the two doors. She’d say it was a lock, but there was no place for a key. Not even for a swipe card.
“Scraps, do you know what this is?” DG moved closer, but Glitch was already crouching in front of it.
“A box?” Scraps blinked at DG questioningly.
“I know it’s a box. Is it a trap?” She looked at the girl.
“Ummm…” Scraps chewed on her lower lip. “Think, think, think.” She beat her temple with the heel of her hand.
“Hey, that won’t help. Trust me, I’ve tried it.” Glitch looked up from his position to Scraps. “We’ll figure it out if you can’t remember.”
Scraps’s apparent earlier joy dissolved as she sat down and tucked her knees under her chin.
“It’s a music box. That’s it. It’s a music box…. But it doesn’t play, it listens.” She cocked her head to the side, her eyes momentarily vacant. “How did I know that? I can’t remember it. I can’t see it in my head.”
“You just know things,” DG smiled at her.
“Sound-activated.” Glitch looked at it with a bit of admiration. “That’s brilliant. But it can’t be just any sound. Or it would already be open.”
“Voice activated, maybe?” DG tried a guess. “Programmed to Dr. Pipt’s voice.”
“If that’s the case, I’m gonna have to see if I can take this apart. I don’t think any of us can do impressions.” Glitch scratched his head. “Especially for a man we’ve never met.”
******************************************
The Letter:
Princess Azkadellia,
I hope this letter finds you well.
So far the trip has been as boring as I had hoped. The most danger we faced was a case of sunburn and Ms. Scraps’s run in with a particularly vicious length of string. The string was defeated with no permanent injury to anyone.
We think we’ve found the first hidden weapons trading site. I’m sure my father has sent a full report and map. In the morning we’ll try and get to the site and see what, if anything, it holds. I’m not really holding too much hope there will be a clue as to where Dr. Pipt’s hidden lair is. But we really don’t have any other options.
Hope to return soon.
I miss you. (Scribbled out heavily)
Respectfully,
Jeb Cain
A/N: Look at the pretty icon
n_e_star made...