(no subject)
Mocha #13. When I Get My Hands on You
Story : knights
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1266-68-ish
Word Count : 1463
It started with a rat. Not that rats weren’t common enough in the sorts of places they could afford to live, but they didn’t usually lie there in the middle of the floor on their backs. And, thought Kairn as he got closer to the thing, dead or alive, they usually had eyes and a distinct lack of notes tied to their tails. With a sigh, he bent to retrieve the furry little corpse.
“Uncle Kairn?”
“Stay back.“ He threw out an arm and heard the scuttle of little feet coming to a rapid halt.
He crouched on the floor a moment, frowning at the rat, wondering if it was about to up and scurry off or explode. The bit of folded paper hanging off of it would indicate neither. Unless it was a trap.
Kairn stood, grit his teeth, gave the body a nudge with the toe of his boot. It flopped over, as one might expect the dead husk of any old rat to do.
“What is it?”
The boy was up on his toes, neck stretched to its limit, groceries still clutched to his chest, squinting down his nose at the rat. Kairn shook his head. He brought his foot down in front of the body, shifted his weight, as if it would do any good to block it from view. Sham turned his puzzled gaze on him.
“Nothing. Why don’t you go put those away?” He waved the boy and his sack of food towards the kitchen.
It hadn’t exploded. Hadn’t so much as twitched. Reida could set the things off by remote though. Kairn got down on his hands and knees near the rat and brought his face down parallel with the floor. The body was whole, save the eyes. It would have been some feat to stuff anything inside and still raise it. He gave the string that held the paper to its tail a cautious tug.
“Uncle Kairn?”
He twitched. Rat tail and parchment fell back to the floor as he yanked his hand away. It took a moment to remind himself to breathe and look to the kitchen, where the sound had come from. An even more puzzled Shamino was standing in the doorway with a sack of potatoes. The boy looked from Kairn to the rat and back and simply said, “These are for tonight, right?”
“Right,” said Kairn, trying and failing to pretend he hadn’t just nearly jumped out of his skin.
Shamino ignored it. “So, should I peel them?” he asked instead.
“Sure.”
The boy ducked back into the kitchen and Kairn gave the string another tug. The knot fell away easily and the paper dropped to the floor. He grabbed a corner and slid it away from the rat.
Unfolding the note, he sat back to read the tight, neat little print.
Put some better locks on your windows, would you?
She hadn’t signed it. She hadn’t needed to. He knew her hand well enough, and if it were anyone else the rat would have exploded. Kairn smashed the paper in his fist and threw it at the corpse.
The window. He pushed himself to his feet and hurried into the kitchen. He brushed past Shamino, at the sink with a potato and a knife in his small hands, who shot him another worried look. The window was shut. He grabbed the bottom of the frame and shoved it open.
“Uncle Kairn?” said Shamino, backing out of the way as he thrust his head outside.
He looked up and down the alley, to the roofs of the neighboring buildings. Like he thought she’d be there, a shadowy figure lurking in the street, or striking a pose up on a chimney. There was nothing, no one. He shook his head, pulled back inside, and forced the window shut.
“What are you looking for?” said Shamino.
“Nothing,” said Kairn. She was out there somewhere. She wouldn’t have gone far; she’d want to have a good laugh at him first. “Nothing,” he said again, as much to himself as to the boy.
“Is it because of the rat?” said Shamino, still eyeing him warily. “I mean, we’ve had rats before, but I don’t know what they have to do with windows.”
“It’s nothing.” He flipped the latch on the window. It was rather a flimsy thing. But how did a rat get past-
“Uncle Kairn?” Kairn shook his head. “Are you going to make dinner?”
Kairn blinked. “Yeah. But first I need to get some wood,” he said, still staring at the window. “And some nails.”
Everywhere they went, every move they made, she followed. It was always Reida, never Sethan. Kairn wondered if he was watching too, if he was pulling her strings like he did everyone else’s, why he hadn’t come to meet them himself in all this time. Trust Sethan to be sitting back and waiting, smug and sure that he could take care of matters easily when the time came.
There were times it was just a single bone. Left on a windowsill, the edge of the sink, the corner of a table. There was always a note attached. Buy another deadbolt, or Put the dresser in front of the window, not your bed. Sometimes she got creative. You’re out of coffee, or What trash heap did you dig the furniture out of for this place? just to let him know she was there.
He’d pretend it was nothing, stash the bone and the paper in the trash, hope it came from an animal and not someone he’d known. There were times they looked distinctly human and he had to forcibly pretend otherwise. Shamino always gave him that perplexed look and found something else to talk about.
It was a new place. It was always a new place, but after a few weeks they’d try to tell themselves a place was old enough, that it might be a home. This one hadn’t met that mark yet. It barely had beds at this point.
It was at one of those beds Kairn was staring. A set of curtains - thick, ugly, dark ones, the sort that might just blot out the sun completely - had been laid flat atop the covers. A note rested, folded, over the middle of them.
In the doorway behind him, Shamino stretched and strained to peer around him into the room. “Curtains?” he said.
Kairn sighed, picked up the paper and peeled it apart.
Saw you didn’t have any. Not that I mind the view.
He groaned, put a hand to his temple, and fought the urge to run to the window. It never did any good.
“They’re kind of ugly.” Sham was plucking at the edges, turning the cloth over and frowning at it thoughtfully.
“Much, much better than nothing,” said Kairn. “Let’s put them up.”
The day he found the scarf he nearly wet himself. Silk bats were among Sethan’s favorite toys. And here was one hung from the bathroom mirror.
“Uncle Kairn?” said Shamino, shuffling in to find him pressed up against the wall, pale and shaking. He looked to the lump of silk on the mirror and back with a frown.
“It’s nothing,” said Kairn. He peeled himself from the wall and yanked the thing down with a trembling hand.
“It’s a scarf,” said Shamino, leaning in to look around him.
“Right,” said Kairn, and he swallowed hard. “A scarf.”
The boy shook his head, in the manner of a child forced to deal with the mindless exasperation of grown ups and their reading too much into everything, and padded off into the living room.
Kairn jabbed a few fingers into the twisted folds of silk and pried free the note. He slumped back against the wall for support as he pulled it apart. Had Sethan found them? Was he tired of the game and coming to collect the boy? The paper in his hand swam in and out of focus, the floor threatened to knock him to his knees.
She’d made quite the effort. A trademark Sethan silk bat, long, looping text scrawled over the page, though it was just a little too tight, a bit too controlled. And, as he slid to the floor with a sigh of relief that it was not Sethan’s doing, the words came into focus.
Quite enjoyed the bath you had last night.
You might want to do something about that window,
though I’d rather you didn’t.
His stomach lurched as he turned to the window above the tub. He could see the neighbor’s roof from where he sat. The silk bat sailed across the room, collided with the wall beneath the window with a soft thump, and slid into the tub. With a shudder, Kairn let his head fall into his hands.
Story : knights
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1266-68-ish
Word Count : 1463
It started with a rat. Not that rats weren’t common enough in the sorts of places they could afford to live, but they didn’t usually lie there in the middle of the floor on their backs. And, thought Kairn as he got closer to the thing, dead or alive, they usually had eyes and a distinct lack of notes tied to their tails. With a sigh, he bent to retrieve the furry little corpse.
“Uncle Kairn?”
“Stay back.“ He threw out an arm and heard the scuttle of little feet coming to a rapid halt.
He crouched on the floor a moment, frowning at the rat, wondering if it was about to up and scurry off or explode. The bit of folded paper hanging off of it would indicate neither. Unless it was a trap.
Kairn stood, grit his teeth, gave the body a nudge with the toe of his boot. It flopped over, as one might expect the dead husk of any old rat to do.
“What is it?”
The boy was up on his toes, neck stretched to its limit, groceries still clutched to his chest, squinting down his nose at the rat. Kairn shook his head. He brought his foot down in front of the body, shifted his weight, as if it would do any good to block it from view. Sham turned his puzzled gaze on him.
“Nothing. Why don’t you go put those away?” He waved the boy and his sack of food towards the kitchen.
It hadn’t exploded. Hadn’t so much as twitched. Reida could set the things off by remote though. Kairn got down on his hands and knees near the rat and brought his face down parallel with the floor. The body was whole, save the eyes. It would have been some feat to stuff anything inside and still raise it. He gave the string that held the paper to its tail a cautious tug.
“Uncle Kairn?”
He twitched. Rat tail and parchment fell back to the floor as he yanked his hand away. It took a moment to remind himself to breathe and look to the kitchen, where the sound had come from. An even more puzzled Shamino was standing in the doorway with a sack of potatoes. The boy looked from Kairn to the rat and back and simply said, “These are for tonight, right?”
“Right,” said Kairn, trying and failing to pretend he hadn’t just nearly jumped out of his skin.
Shamino ignored it. “So, should I peel them?” he asked instead.
“Sure.”
The boy ducked back into the kitchen and Kairn gave the string another tug. The knot fell away easily and the paper dropped to the floor. He grabbed a corner and slid it away from the rat.
Unfolding the note, he sat back to read the tight, neat little print.
Put some better locks on your windows, would you?
She hadn’t signed it. She hadn’t needed to. He knew her hand well enough, and if it were anyone else the rat would have exploded. Kairn smashed the paper in his fist and threw it at the corpse.
The window. He pushed himself to his feet and hurried into the kitchen. He brushed past Shamino, at the sink with a potato and a knife in his small hands, who shot him another worried look. The window was shut. He grabbed the bottom of the frame and shoved it open.
“Uncle Kairn?” said Shamino, backing out of the way as he thrust his head outside.
He looked up and down the alley, to the roofs of the neighboring buildings. Like he thought she’d be there, a shadowy figure lurking in the street, or striking a pose up on a chimney. There was nothing, no one. He shook his head, pulled back inside, and forced the window shut.
“What are you looking for?” said Shamino.
“Nothing,” said Kairn. She was out there somewhere. She wouldn’t have gone far; she’d want to have a good laugh at him first. “Nothing,” he said again, as much to himself as to the boy.
“Is it because of the rat?” said Shamino, still eyeing him warily. “I mean, we’ve had rats before, but I don’t know what they have to do with windows.”
“It’s nothing.” He flipped the latch on the window. It was rather a flimsy thing. But how did a rat get past-
“Uncle Kairn?” Kairn shook his head. “Are you going to make dinner?”
Kairn blinked. “Yeah. But first I need to get some wood,” he said, still staring at the window. “And some nails.”
Everywhere they went, every move they made, she followed. It was always Reida, never Sethan. Kairn wondered if he was watching too, if he was pulling her strings like he did everyone else’s, why he hadn’t come to meet them himself in all this time. Trust Sethan to be sitting back and waiting, smug and sure that he could take care of matters easily when the time came.
There were times it was just a single bone. Left on a windowsill, the edge of the sink, the corner of a table. There was always a note attached. Buy another deadbolt, or Put the dresser in front of the window, not your bed. Sometimes she got creative. You’re out of coffee, or What trash heap did you dig the furniture out of for this place? just to let him know she was there.
He’d pretend it was nothing, stash the bone and the paper in the trash, hope it came from an animal and not someone he’d known. There were times they looked distinctly human and he had to forcibly pretend otherwise. Shamino always gave him that perplexed look and found something else to talk about.
It was a new place. It was always a new place, but after a few weeks they’d try to tell themselves a place was old enough, that it might be a home. This one hadn’t met that mark yet. It barely had beds at this point.
It was at one of those beds Kairn was staring. A set of curtains - thick, ugly, dark ones, the sort that might just blot out the sun completely - had been laid flat atop the covers. A note rested, folded, over the middle of them.
In the doorway behind him, Shamino stretched and strained to peer around him into the room. “Curtains?” he said.
Kairn sighed, picked up the paper and peeled it apart.
Saw you didn’t have any. Not that I mind the view.
He groaned, put a hand to his temple, and fought the urge to run to the window. It never did any good.
“They’re kind of ugly.” Sham was plucking at the edges, turning the cloth over and frowning at it thoughtfully.
“Much, much better than nothing,” said Kairn. “Let’s put them up.”
The day he found the scarf he nearly wet himself. Silk bats were among Sethan’s favorite toys. And here was one hung from the bathroom mirror.
“Uncle Kairn?” said Shamino, shuffling in to find him pressed up against the wall, pale and shaking. He looked to the lump of silk on the mirror and back with a frown.
“It’s nothing,” said Kairn. He peeled himself from the wall and yanked the thing down with a trembling hand.
“It’s a scarf,” said Shamino, leaning in to look around him.
“Right,” said Kairn, and he swallowed hard. “A scarf.”
The boy shook his head, in the manner of a child forced to deal with the mindless exasperation of grown ups and their reading too much into everything, and padded off into the living room.
Kairn jabbed a few fingers into the twisted folds of silk and pried free the note. He slumped back against the wall for support as he pulled it apart. Had Sethan found them? Was he tired of the game and coming to collect the boy? The paper in his hand swam in and out of focus, the floor threatened to knock him to his knees.
She’d made quite the effort. A trademark Sethan silk bat, long, looping text scrawled over the page, though it was just a little too tight, a bit too controlled. And, as he slid to the floor with a sigh of relief that it was not Sethan’s doing, the words came into focus.
Quite enjoyed the bath you had last night.
You might want to do something about that window,
though I’d rather you didn’t.
His stomach lurched as he turned to the window above the tub. He could see the neighbor’s roof from where he sat. The silk bat sailed across the room, collided with the wall beneath the window with a soft thump, and slid into the tub. With a shudder, Kairn let his head fall into his hands.