One Teeny Lad of All Work

[wishandwait]

Here is a Sasha. A small Sasha, only about seven. He’s already sturdy, a strong lad who works hard, with a baby faced roundness to him. His clothes are neat and well cared for, though old, and no one would say he looks as if he’s not been fed enough, but there’s something odd about him, nevertheless

Comments

[mad_leprechaun]

*watches him-- he doesn't usually notice kids, but there's something odd about this one*

*gruffly, but he's trying to be nice* Hey, what're you doing here?

[wishandwait]

Those wide eyes turn to Sweeny, and his heart rate picks up a bit - he doesn't like being noticed by adults that much, something bad always happens, if only his aunt scolding him.

"I think I'm lost," he says, just loud enough to be heard.

[mad_leprechaun]

What? You're gonna have to speak up, kid.

*realizes he's probably freaking the kid out so he sighs and squats down to be at Sasha's height*

You think you're lost? Well, where are you supposed to be?

[wishandwait]

Sasha swallows. He can speak up. So he does, and this time his volume is almost normal. "Fedya Misurov's Cockerel," he says, "The inn the Cockerel, I mean. He's my uncle."

He puts his hands into his pockets, fumbling a little, but that's all right because the pockets won't break.

[moderatelymad]

"Hello." Even at ten a Florian, left to himself, will find something to lean on: a fence, a railing, an unoccupied chair; and he does it now, resting his chin on his hands, to look at Sasha on more of a level.

[wishandwait]

Sasha may be naive, but he knows an aristocratic boy when he sees one. "Hello," he says, and attempts a respectful sort of smile, even though he's not sure quite what sort of smile that should be.

His hands find their way to the small of his back, a peculiarly adult gesture. "I'm Sasha," he says, with what is, for him, unaccustomed boldness.

[moderatelymad]

"I'm Florian," with a smile, slow-breaking, uncomplex. He's used to this sort of reaction, and an introduction at least is promising. "Pleased to meet you."

[wishandwait]

"Pleased to meet you," Sasha says, slightly faint, though he likes that smile.

[seetoggsrun]

"Did you lose your city too? Mine disappeared."

[wishandwait]

Sasha wants to say 'It wasn't me, I didn't wish it!' very quick like, but no one ever believes him, and they tend to get angrier if he protests, so instead he says, "I'm sorry. That's not good."

He bites down on his lip and looks away. "I could help you look. Maybe." Very soft, almost inaudible.

[seetoggsrun]

"If you wanted to. I need to find it, 'cause I already missed muster once."

[wishandwait]

"I might try," Sasha says, "Which ways have you been?"

(Because he is too afraid to try wishing.)

[sixpearls]

"Oh, goodness." She kneels down in her long skirts in front of him. "Mr. Misurov?"

[wishandwait]

"'m Sasha," Sasha says, because if Mr. Misurov is anyone, it's his uncle.

He looks nervously at Mary. "Ma'am?" he says, confused.

[sixpearls]

"It's Mary," she says, because Mrs. Watson might be too intimidating--he looks so small and darling and like he needs a hug and cookies, and she's already attached to him that way, so deaging just makes it worse. "Are you all right?"

[wishandwait]

Big eyes, and yeees, he needs a hug. Lots of hugs. "I'm all right," he says, "Thank you."

[decentscoundrel]

Pyetr pauses, quite sure he's seen this child before; which is odd in itself. Ordinarily he doesn't notice children much, having not had much to do with them even when he was one himself.

And then, of course, it hits him. "Oh, god. Sasha?"

[wishandwait]

Sasha starts - that's the first time since he got here he's heard his name without prompting - and looks up at Pyetr. "Yes?" he says, and cannot help biting his lip a little, because that tone really wasn't his aunt or uncle's tone when something's been dropped or spilled (which he's getting better about, really!), but it certainly isn't calm.

[decentscoundrel]

"What in hell happened?" It's not disapproval. It's pure, unadulterated dismay.

[wishandwait]

It's very hard for Sasha to tell the difference, especially at seven. "I don't know!" he says, "I went to get water and - I don't know!"