skipping around! because i can
Okay, this prompt amuses me so I'm skipping to it for now.
Interrupted by Plot!
by vikki
for jankoraven - Mytho has to get ready for school and dress himself. Will he succeed in putting on his pants!?
Summary: Mytho's pretty ambivalent towards clothing. Much like everything else. ... Except small birds. Episode 1. Might be slightly gross in the middle, but Mytho is a literal person.
Mytho woke up alone.
This happened sometimes - rarely, but sometimes. Fakir was almost always in the room with him, but not today. Mytho didn't mind; he didn't mind anything, actually, and could not understand why Fakir would raise his voice and Rue would sometimes have tears coming out of her eyes (although he always thought he should wipe them away and hold her head close, because protection, that was something he understood).
Mytho remembered that there was a reason he was alone; Fakir had told him yesterday that he had separate practice in the morning, and he might be back late. "I'm leaving the list of things to do right here," he had said, placing a sheet of parchment on the bedside table, covered with his neat, clean handwriting. Fakir had grasped his chin and pressed his forehead to Mytho's, so all Mytho could see was his dark eyes. "When you wake up, do everything that list says. In order. Do you understand?"
"I understand," Mytho answered, because that was what was expected.
"Promise me," Fakir said, something in his voice forceful and also imploring. Imploring was a word their English teacher used, but Mytho wasn't entirely certain why anyone would implore anyone to do anything.
"I promise," Mytho said, because he was obedient.
So now it was the next morning, and Mytho had woken up. He turned to the paper, which was clearly organized. He started at the top because that was where lists generally started.
1. Use the toilet.
When Fakir asked, "Have you used the toilet?" he always meant "Have you peed?" So Mytho assumed that was what was meant. He stood and walked to the bathroom and did his business, then went back to the bed, where the list was.
2. Drink your milk. It's warm, but drink it even if you don't like it.
Mytho always drank a glass of milk in the morning, with Fakir. Fakir always told him this was because it was healthy and made you grow strong, but the only one who was growing was Fakir. Mytho drank milk because he was told to, not because he wanted to grow up strong. He didn't want to do anything, and he didn't understand why Fakir wanted him to do things so much.
He saw the milk, now room-temperature, was on the bedside table next to the note. He took the glass and drank it all the way down without a pause.
3. Wipe your mouth.
Mytho scrubbed his wrist across his mouth.
4. Put on a shirt, if you don't have one on already.
Mytho looked down. He was wearing a shirt. He'd put it on yesterday before going to sleep because Fakir told him to.
5. Put on your white p--
That was as far as Mytho read, because it was then he heard the birds outside his window.
Mytho had been told by Fakir that he was an idiot who had no attention span. Mytho supposed it was true; it bothered Fakir a lot, but it didn't bother Mytho much at all. He went to the window to watch the birds, which were small and helpless in a terrible way; Mytho had watched these birds all month, from when they were eggs to just hatched to now, as they spread their tiny wings.
He sort of understood why Fakir raised his voice when he watched these birds, and as soon as they were gone, he couldn't remember any more.
The last baby was having a hard time of flying. Fakir always said that birds had to just do it, do it or die, but Mytho kind of thought it might be nice if someone were there to catch birds that fell on their first try. Flying might be hard, after all.
He undid the latch on the window, stood on the ledge to get closer. Just in case. He couldn't let that little bird fall.
A crow swooped over the baby bird, and that was it - it fell.
Mytho leapt and caught her, and he supposed that flying was awfully hard; he couldn't do it. He wrapped himself around the baby in his hands, because all that mattered was this tiny life saved in that moment.
He landed on a bed of flowers so soft it was like he had fallen back into his own large bed.
A hand drew him up like a swell of music, and he gazed into blue eyes and feathers of pink and white - an elegant swan turned human, his savior.
And the bird - it flew away, successful after all.
fin
Interrupted by Plot!
by vikki
for jankoraven - Mytho has to get ready for school and dress himself. Will he succeed in putting on his pants!?
Summary: Mytho's pretty ambivalent towards clothing. Much like everything else. ... Except small birds. Episode 1. Might be slightly gross in the middle, but Mytho is a literal person.
Mytho woke up alone.
This happened sometimes - rarely, but sometimes. Fakir was almost always in the room with him, but not today. Mytho didn't mind; he didn't mind anything, actually, and could not understand why Fakir would raise his voice and Rue would sometimes have tears coming out of her eyes (although he always thought he should wipe them away and hold her head close, because protection, that was something he understood).
Mytho remembered that there was a reason he was alone; Fakir had told him yesterday that he had separate practice in the morning, and he might be back late. "I'm leaving the list of things to do right here," he had said, placing a sheet of parchment on the bedside table, covered with his neat, clean handwriting. Fakir had grasped his chin and pressed his forehead to Mytho's, so all Mytho could see was his dark eyes. "When you wake up, do everything that list says. In order. Do you understand?"
"I understand," Mytho answered, because that was what was expected.
"Promise me," Fakir said, something in his voice forceful and also imploring. Imploring was a word their English teacher used, but Mytho wasn't entirely certain why anyone would implore anyone to do anything.
"I promise," Mytho said, because he was obedient.
So now it was the next morning, and Mytho had woken up. He turned to the paper, which was clearly organized. He started at the top because that was where lists generally started.
1. Use the toilet.
When Fakir asked, "Have you used the toilet?" he always meant "Have you peed?" So Mytho assumed that was what was meant. He stood and walked to the bathroom and did his business, then went back to the bed, where the list was.
2. Drink your milk. It's warm, but drink it even if you don't like it.
Mytho always drank a glass of milk in the morning, with Fakir. Fakir always told him this was because it was healthy and made you grow strong, but the only one who was growing was Fakir. Mytho drank milk because he was told to, not because he wanted to grow up strong. He didn't want to do anything, and he didn't understand why Fakir wanted him to do things so much.
He saw the milk, now room-temperature, was on the bedside table next to the note. He took the glass and drank it all the way down without a pause.
3. Wipe your mouth.
Mytho scrubbed his wrist across his mouth.
4. Put on a shirt, if you don't have one on already.
Mytho looked down. He was wearing a shirt. He'd put it on yesterday before going to sleep because Fakir told him to.
5. Put on your white p--
That was as far as Mytho read, because it was then he heard the birds outside his window.
Mytho had been told by Fakir that he was an idiot who had no attention span. Mytho supposed it was true; it bothered Fakir a lot, but it didn't bother Mytho much at all. He went to the window to watch the birds, which were small and helpless in a terrible way; Mytho had watched these birds all month, from when they were eggs to just hatched to now, as they spread their tiny wings.
He sort of understood why Fakir raised his voice when he watched these birds, and as soon as they were gone, he couldn't remember any more.
The last baby was having a hard time of flying. Fakir always said that birds had to just do it, do it or die, but Mytho kind of thought it might be nice if someone were there to catch birds that fell on their first try. Flying might be hard, after all.
He undid the latch on the window, stood on the ledge to get closer. Just in case. He couldn't let that little bird fall.
A crow swooped over the baby bird, and that was it - it fell.
Mytho leapt and caught her, and he supposed that flying was awfully hard; he couldn't do it. He wrapped himself around the baby in his hands, because all that mattered was this tiny life saved in that moment.
He landed on a bed of flowers so soft it was like he had fallen back into his own large bed.
A hand drew him up like a swell of music, and he gazed into blue eyes and feathers of pink and white - an elegant swan turned human, his savior.
And the bird - it flew away, successful after all.
fin