001. out there in the sun | beneath the sky // open post

[clayce]

Take a prompt, take some time, drop in whenever you like.

Comments

[clayce]

[It isn't too long before Aidan is sitting down on the grass, right at his favorite spot on campus. The wind is nice here, and no one bothers coming around but him.

It's the perfect place for a nice, long talk.

He tells the boy to sit at his left, then he looks up at Maggie. To her, though, he doesn't say anything: he simply points to his right.]

[maggienificent]

[ Her lips are pursed when she crosses her arms over her chest, not budging from where she stands.

( She's not sorry. She's not. And he can't make her feel sorry. ) ]

[clayce]

[He is not fazed in the slightest. He looks up at her once again, with that same look he used earlier.]

Margaret Montelibano. [He speaks very, very quietly, just enough for a bit of the dragon to come out behind the skin and cadence of a man.] Sit down.

[maggienificent]

[ Something in her hind brain is telling her to bend, to just sit down just as she's been told.

But she doesn't want to, feels it adds more insult to injury and so her arms tighten over her chest and she breathes hard. ]

I've been sitting on my butt the whole day in class, Father Aidan. [ Her voice is prim and deceptively polite. ] Thank you, sir, but I'm okay to stand.

[clayce]

[And of course Aidan sees right through the act, but none of that comes out in his face, or his voice. Immovable object, this one is.]

Let's hope that you are.

[This was going to take a while. Then, as if to prove his point, he starts with her.]

What happened?

[maggienificent]

[ Her chin comes up and her eyes flick once ( just once ) to that one. ]

He was bothering Renae.

[clayce]

And how do you define 'bothering'?

[He can feel the way the boy sitting to his left is shrinking, closing in on himself. He knows the child; he knows all of them.

But Maggie is his focus for the moment. She is, after all, the one who is more damaged between the two of them. It's written all over her face, and between her words.]

[maggienificent]

[ There is a lot that she could say -- the boy was always tagging along, asking questions, murmuring in class and writing down notes on the margins of his textbook to show to Renae, or glancing back towards them if all the seats but the one in front of them were filled.

She could talk about how her brother had stopped standing up to go with her whenever she needed to step out, and all because this boy was engaging him in one-sided conversation. ]

He talks too much. [ She says instead, conviction lining every syllable. ]

[clayce]

That is relative. Explain yourself better.

[Her 'conviction' was definitely going to have to match up to the firmness in Aidan's tone, which simply wasn't going to happen. His expression was as stone faced as ever, and it was almost as if the other boy was not in the area.

He'd bring that one in later.]

[maggienificent]

[ Her jaw clenches, and for a moment she looks like she might not reply.

It's frustrating how everything she knew as constant and fixed are suddenly not, because the kids had stopped reaching out to them the way they had at the very beginning, because it is hard to follow the things that every other kid knows when these are experiences that shs and her brother never had. ]

He just really talks too much. He bothers Renae in class, he tags along like a tail we don't need, he passes notes and hasn't stopped, not even when our teacher told him not to be distracting.

[clayce]

'We', huh?

[There's only too much in everything that the child is NOT saying, and is trying to hide. There is even more that she can't even understand for herself.]

Did your brother ever say, specifically, that this boy was bothering him?

[maggienificent]

[ She goes quiet, and the urge to drop her gaze to her hands weighs like the pressure building in her chest.

Why was he asking if Renae had to say things specifically, as if to imply that she couldn't possibly know what was going on in her twin's head. How could this man who had lived so strong for so very, very long, surrounded by so much in abundance, ever understand what it was like to have only the barest of...

She's breathing hard now, lips pressed together in defiance. ]

I know Renae best. [ She hisses, just barely aware that her fingers have fisted at her sides.

And then quieter, but no less resolute: ] I know him best. Me.

[clayce]

I don't doubt that. What I do doubt is your ability to keep your interests separate from his.

[It's at that point that Aidan's tone becomes gentler, as does the look in his eyes. People who love the most tend to do the most damage, after all, and it only gets worse when they have the best of intentions...

...Or when they need even more attention than the recipient of their affections.

He turns to the boy at that point, because he knows Maggie needs some time to absorb the gravity of his statement.]

What were you trying to do, Alan, while 'bothering' Renae?

[The answer is simple, as expected.

"I-I just wanted to be his friend, sir. Kinda wanted to be both their friend."

And now he's turning back to face the girl.

Ball's in your court now, Margaret.]

[maggienificent]

[ She sniffs then. Stubborn, digging her heels into the ground because there's a sense of static in her head, like nothing makes sense, like nothing connects and all she can hear is the way her breathing sounds too loud -- not even in her ears, though it is there too.

She spins on her heel at that.

Because she's not wrong.

And she is not going to cry. ]

[clayce]

[The damage has been done: that much is obvious in the girl's reaction.

He focuses his attentions on the boy, and smiles.]

You can go now, Alan. We'll talk more later.

[There's the Deer In Headlights Look, of course, of a boy who originally thought that he was in Deep Shit then realized that he was free to go. Then another look, this time directed at Maggie.

A hand on Alan's shoulder, however, is more than enough to get him going. Aidan watches the boy leave, then turns back to Maggie.

He's not going anytime soon. He has all the time in the world to fix this.]

[maggienificent]

[ She hates him. He's not nice at all, the Dragon. He's not anything like what Mom had told them, nothing at all.

Weren't you afraid, Mama?

The first time I saw Aidan? No, not really. But the second time, yes. You have to understand, sweetheart: I was a newly Changed fox, and anything bigger, anything that big, is a predator you learn to either trick or respect.

And with Aidan... let's just say I felt like a toothpick he could chew on.

She's wiping furiously at her eyes then, walking without direction until she nearly trips on one of the plates sitting quietly on the field, and snaps to attention--

--to find her eyes fixed on a pair, in the distance, that she knows ( she does, she does ) better than her own. ]

[clayce]

[He doesn't need to follow her gaze to know what - who - she is looking at. He and Rethe could talk about this later, if they wanted to. There was no 'need' for the two of them, not with something like this.

So he's keeping his attentions focused on Maggie. To ask her if she's okay is an insult: she's as proud as her mother was, and - in some ways - always has been. So he's moving, crouching right in front of her. Watching, and waiting.]

I think you and I need to talk.

[No need to order this one around. She needs to come around all on her own this time.]

[maggienificent]

[ Maggie doesn't nod, doesn't say okay or yes, sir like she would if this was Alistair. She just stiffly huffs ( a tiny puff of air slipping past pursed lips ) and slumps right down to sit. ]

I'm tired. [ Not really. ] That's only why I'm sitting.

[clayce]

[He's smiling now, because the Disciplinary Daddy Act is getting shelved starting Now.]

I know. Want me to sit here, or sit with you? The view is nice, either way.

[That last bit, he owes to Hikaru. His brother(?) did always tell him that he has to be more charming...]

[maggienificent]

[ She pouts. Molars clenched and knees bobbing because he can do anything he wants, really. Isn't he the Dragon of Netsach, the Voidseeker, the ever-powerful founder of a place that makes her mother light up as if the last year and a half never happened, as if...

She shrugs, a careless, do whatever you want gesture that speaks of resignation more than anything else.

Can't stop you, she mutters inwardly. All I am is a toothpick anyway. ]

[clayce]

[And he doesn't need to read her mind to know exactly what she's thinking. Hence, out of respect, he's hunkering down right where he is, and letting her have her space.

He's also bringing out his pack of cigarettes, and holding it up to her with a questioning look.

Does she mind? Because if she does, he won't.]

[maggienificent]

He hated those.

[ She doesn't talk about him. Stopped, after that first time after they'd come home to a house cleaned down with a smell that pinched her nose, and she'd asked, quietly why the bags were packed. Stopped because of the way her brother had gone sheet-white and swayed, sliding bonelessly down into the pillow he favored over their couch. ]

He called Mama filthy for-- [ she scrunches up her face, she's never understood the phrase, never wanted to ask lest she be looked at as if she was stupid ] --'keeping the habit.'

[ When she looks up at the Dragon, she asks with her eyes. So much is lost on her -- on Renae -- words that make very little sense together than they do when taken apart. ]

[clayce]

Something tells me that he did not make a habit out of being nice to the people he should have been taking care of.

[The statement is quiet, just as he's thumbing out a cigarette. Hand-rolled tobacco, 100% natural. He grows it on his own; gardening was, after all, something Setsuna had taught him to do.

Lighting up, then, taking a drag, and respectfully blowing the smoke away from Maggie's direction.]

What do you think of this, though?

[It was important to let the girl know that she could speak her mind, feel what she wanted to, and do what she had to, provided that it did not hurt anyone - most especially herself.]

[maggienificent]

[ Maggie's quiet a moment, going through her memories, the ones she'd hoarded and asked Renae to confirm in the nights she couldn't go back to sleep, both of them lying on the floor of the little bedroom in that house by the river, listening for the fall of familiar steps coming back indoors.

Their mother wistfully ( sadly ) turning a pack over in her hands before she bent forward to press an open palm to her forehead, or outside on the porch, wisps of smoke winding up as she looked to a moon that wasn't always there. ]

It made her sad. But sad and quiet was always better than the nights she'd go run.

Belated edit because hahaha, OCD...

[clayce]

[His gaze is elsewhere now as he's taking another drag. His expression is almost pensive as he's recalling details from the past that are now leaping up to his attention, as a result of their conversation.

He used to know everything whether he liked it nor not. Now the knowledge comes to him on a Need to Know Basis.

Somehow, he's all right with this.]

Where did she go whenever she'd do that?