Double helping of Pumpkin Pie...
Title: Best You Hurry
Main Story: Cryptomancy
Flavors: Pumpkin Pie #5: skeleton
Word Count: 227
Rating: PG
Summary: Short conversation over a carcass
Notes: kind of cheated on the prompt but I think it's pretty fair? Not as much of a cheat as the next one anyway...
When we were satisfied that it had gone quiet, Bug and I waited for several long minutes more. Finally, we began to grow conscious of each other’s breath on our skin and in our ears, and I groped in the darkness for the cupboard door.
After the close darkness of the cupboard, the dim light of the corridor was jarring. I blinked stupidly in the light, but Bug did not share my disorientation. She took my hand and led me off, down the winding stair.
In the east kitchen, Jenny Three-Toes was butchering a sow, right there in the middle of the room. She had it down to bones now, but its head was still untouched. Its open eyes captured mine as Bug and I entered. It looked as though it were a skeleton wearing a mask, some sort of gruesome fancy-dress costume. As though it might jump up and begin a courtly dance. I looked away.
“Jenny,” said Bug, calmer than I would have believed possible. “Do you know where Thorne is at?”
The cook did not look up, merely thumbed through her tools until she produced a broad, flat saw, which she then took to the sow’s neck. The sound it made was terrible. “He’s in the courtyard,” she finally said, with no warmth in her voice. “And best you hurry.” Then, “She knows.”
Title: Francis
Main Story: Cryptomancy
Flavors: Pumpkin Pie #6: face paint
Word Count: 601
Rating: PG
Summary: In the courtyard, Bug gives Thorne a gift.
Notes: I was going to do a more literal interpretation for this prompt, but in the interest of keeping the prompts in order (and therefore not forgetting one), I chose to paint a face with emotion, light, and magic.
We did find him in the courtyard. With his armor off, Thorne looked so ordinary he hardly seemed to belong to the Rookery at all. The stars barely reflected off his sand-colored hair, and his skin was nothing like the moon. He looked up as Bug and I came out, but he returned his eyes to the hedges just as quickly.
“You two should get back inside,” he said halfheartedly, doing his job even if he wasn’t wearing the copper.
“We have something for you,” said Bug, softly, gently. She nodded at me, and I was suddenly reminded of the rose, which I produced from beneath my tunic. It shone in every way that Thorne himself did not. Its petals seemed to drink in the starlight, and sent it back out in an array of pinpoints of red light. I was careful with it, and did not prick myself again, though the spot that I had cut earlier throbbed in time with my hammering heart.
When he saw the rose, Thorne’s face changed. I had always liked Thorne, despite his never having been kind. He was a sorrowful man, but made of steel. His feelings never showed on his face, and so I was surprised to watch the emotion welling now in his eyes as he fell to his knees.
I didn’t know what to do with the flower, and so I held it out. I was surprised that Thorne made no motion to take it from me. Bug did. She carefully took the rose from my outstretched hand and walked to stand before him.
He raised his face to stare up at Bug, and she inclined her face to his. Her straw-colored hair fell forward, and suddenly I could not even see her face at all. Bug’s thin, white fingers reached out to trace a line down the side of Thorne’s face. He looked suddenly so young, and I thought I might be seeing what he looked like when he had first come to Merry-Chase.
Finally, Bug held the rose out to him, and he took it. At the precise moment that he did, a gentle wind blew through the courtyard, carrying on it all manner of strange scents. “Francis,” said Bug, and though I couldn’t see her face, I could hear her smile.
“Yes,” said Thorne, his own face breaking with both tears and laughter. He dropped the rose to the ground. It was no longer shimmering, all its light had gone out. Whatever magic it had held was now in Thorne’s-in Francis’s-face.
“Jenny is going to miss you,” Bug said. “Did you know that?”
He shook his head. “Then I had better go and tell her goodbye.” He took Bug’s hand as he got to his feet, and the two of them walked toward the door. I followed a few paces behind, unsure if I really meant to follow, but too afraid and bewildered to be left alone. Bug stopped at the arch, watching Francis disappear inside. I came up to stand beside her.
“She really will miss him,” said Bug, to me this time.
“But he has to go,” I said stupidly.
She sighed. “You’re right. But he could take her with him. She still has her name, but she’s going to stay. For us.”
It was one of the oddest things I’d ever heard Bug say, which is to say it was one of the oddest things I’d ever heard at all. “For us?”
“She’s a soft person, you know. Gentle.” She took a deep breath. “We have to find a way to send her home.”
Main Story: Cryptomancy
Flavors: Pumpkin Pie #5: skeleton
Word Count: 227
Rating: PG
Summary: Short conversation over a carcass
Notes: kind of cheated on the prompt but I think it's pretty fair? Not as much of a cheat as the next one anyway...
When we were satisfied that it had gone quiet, Bug and I waited for several long minutes more. Finally, we began to grow conscious of each other’s breath on our skin and in our ears, and I groped in the darkness for the cupboard door.
After the close darkness of the cupboard, the dim light of the corridor was jarring. I blinked stupidly in the light, but Bug did not share my disorientation. She took my hand and led me off, down the winding stair.
In the east kitchen, Jenny Three-Toes was butchering a sow, right there in the middle of the room. She had it down to bones now, but its head was still untouched. Its open eyes captured mine as Bug and I entered. It looked as though it were a skeleton wearing a mask, some sort of gruesome fancy-dress costume. As though it might jump up and begin a courtly dance. I looked away.
“Jenny,” said Bug, calmer than I would have believed possible. “Do you know where Thorne is at?”
The cook did not look up, merely thumbed through her tools until she produced a broad, flat saw, which she then took to the sow’s neck. The sound it made was terrible. “He’s in the courtyard,” she finally said, with no warmth in her voice. “And best you hurry.” Then, “She knows.”
Title: Francis
Main Story: Cryptomancy
Flavors: Pumpkin Pie #6: face paint
Word Count: 601
Rating: PG
Summary: In the courtyard, Bug gives Thorne a gift.
Notes: I was going to do a more literal interpretation for this prompt, but in the interest of keeping the prompts in order (and therefore not forgetting one), I chose to paint a face with emotion, light, and magic.
We did find him in the courtyard. With his armor off, Thorne looked so ordinary he hardly seemed to belong to the Rookery at all. The stars barely reflected off his sand-colored hair, and his skin was nothing like the moon. He looked up as Bug and I came out, but he returned his eyes to the hedges just as quickly.
“You two should get back inside,” he said halfheartedly, doing his job even if he wasn’t wearing the copper.
“We have something for you,” said Bug, softly, gently. She nodded at me, and I was suddenly reminded of the rose, which I produced from beneath my tunic. It shone in every way that Thorne himself did not. Its petals seemed to drink in the starlight, and sent it back out in an array of pinpoints of red light. I was careful with it, and did not prick myself again, though the spot that I had cut earlier throbbed in time with my hammering heart.
When he saw the rose, Thorne’s face changed. I had always liked Thorne, despite his never having been kind. He was a sorrowful man, but made of steel. His feelings never showed on his face, and so I was surprised to watch the emotion welling now in his eyes as he fell to his knees.
I didn’t know what to do with the flower, and so I held it out. I was surprised that Thorne made no motion to take it from me. Bug did. She carefully took the rose from my outstretched hand and walked to stand before him.
He raised his face to stare up at Bug, and she inclined her face to his. Her straw-colored hair fell forward, and suddenly I could not even see her face at all. Bug’s thin, white fingers reached out to trace a line down the side of Thorne’s face. He looked suddenly so young, and I thought I might be seeing what he looked like when he had first come to Merry-Chase.
Finally, Bug held the rose out to him, and he took it. At the precise moment that he did, a gentle wind blew through the courtyard, carrying on it all manner of strange scents. “Francis,” said Bug, and though I couldn’t see her face, I could hear her smile.
“Yes,” said Thorne, his own face breaking with both tears and laughter. He dropped the rose to the ground. It was no longer shimmering, all its light had gone out. Whatever magic it had held was now in Thorne’s-in Francis’s-face.
“Jenny is going to miss you,” Bug said. “Did you know that?”
He shook his head. “Then I had better go and tell her goodbye.” He took Bug’s hand as he got to his feet, and the two of them walked toward the door. I followed a few paces behind, unsure if I really meant to follow, but too afraid and bewildered to be left alone. Bug stopped at the arch, watching Francis disappear inside. I came up to stand beside her.
“She really will miss him,” said Bug, to me this time.
“But he has to go,” I said stupidly.
She sighed. “You’re right. But he could take her with him. She still has her name, but she’s going to stay. For us.”
It was one of the oddest things I’d ever heard Bug say, which is to say it was one of the oddest things I’d ever heard at all. “For us?”
“She’s a soft person, you know. Gentle.” She took a deep breath. “We have to find a way to send her home.”