Somehow, with more willpower than you’d expect it to need, I succeed in eating my soup. It was cold, and thick in a weirdly gelatinous way. But the flavor was good! It was good. It wasn’t horrible, or curdled, or anything else. It was just… good. It’s a shame Rice left early to go feed Grandma. Especially so since I could never find a good conversation topic to discuss with Holly.
Afterwards, while I’m cleaning my bowl by licking it, Holly starts filling a new bowl with soup and gnocchi. The bowl doesn’t have her name on it, which obviously sparks my curiosity. “Who’s that for?” I ask, wandering up to her.
“Why do you care?”
Ouch. She’s in that bad of a mood, huh? It might be best to sit this one out, huh… “Sorry, I just…” But as I begin backing off to save my skin, I happen to read the name carved into the side of it. “Oh! It’s for Lett?”
She huffs, throwing her head back in frustration. “Yes. It’s for Re—” She bites her tongue. “...Lett. It’s for him.” I approach her, and with my silence pressing her, she has no choice but to fill it with words. “Usually, Glyph is the one who brings him food. She understands his accent and his weird words better than me, though not by much. If nothing else, at least he likes her. Though, since a certain pussycat has decided that he’s too scared of ghosts to stay in the garden shed, I’ll have to be the one to bring it.”
“I see,” I say, thoughtfully. “In that case, would you mind me joining?”
“Why?” she snaps.
I shrug. “Really, I would have liked to ask if I could bring it to him, but I know you wouldn’t want me bringing him anything on my own, so this was the midway point.”
“Right. Why do you want to meet with him to begin with?” The suspicion in her voice is palpable. I guess it’s justified, but it still stings a bit.
“I happen to have met him before,” I say, watching as she puts a few more pieces of gnocchi in the soup. “There are a few things I’d like to discuss with him—nothing major, of course. We happen to have some things in common, and I’d like to keep him from making the same mistakes I did when I was younger.”
“Really, now,” she says, pouring up soup. “How uncharacteristically noble.”
“Doesn’t hurt to try,” I say. She moves towards the end of the table, and is just about to grab some bread to put in his soup when I stop her, putting my hand in front of hers. She glares at me, one eyebrow perked inquisitively. I chance a chuckle. “Heh, it’s just…” I take a piece of bread. “He’d definitely smell a foul if I came along for no reason. If I’m bringing the bread, I’ll at least have some use, right?”
She draws her hand back. “I suppose so.” Her eyes linger on the bread in my hands for a moment. “You might as well bring the whole loaf, it’ll only be stale tomorrow anyways.”
“Right, got it,” I say. Then, in a military voice, “Sir, yes, sir!” Completing the joke with a mock-salute.
And she, despite herself, chuckles. Only to instantly regret her lack of strength, hiding it all with a powerful frown. “Shut up,” she says. A beat passes. It almost seems as though she’s about to shoot back a joke of her own, but in the end, she restrains herself. Very impressive. “Follow me in silence or leave.”
I open my mouth to reply, though a well-placed glare from her keeps me from speaking. Seen, not heard. Gotcha.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
She puts the bowl of soup in her inventory, and gives me a strange look when I keep holding the bread in my hands. After a few moments, I realize what she’s asking of me. However, even though I know inventories don’t technically work like that, the thought of putting this nice, fresh bread together with several years’ worth of skins and pelts in all conditions, not to mention all of the meat and intestines in there… I decide to keep holding it in my hands.
Rolling her eyes, she strides past me and over to the door, forcing me to scramble after her as she displays power-walking speed equal to that of her companion. This pace continues through the hall and up the stairs, only paused by various chance meetings with numerous kids, each of whom are doing something wrong and therefore in need of correction.
“Ally, put your shirt back on,” she tells one. “Teff, no running in the hallway!” she yells at another. “Fallipa, did you finish your homework?” she asks one, and on and on it goes. It’s actually really impressive. I want to ask her about it, or compliment her memory, but my sudden seen-not-heard position keeps me in check. Oh, well.
Reaching Lett’s room took little to no time, and once we arrive, she wastes no time and simply rips the door open, completely disregarding his privacy. Not even a knock.
“Supper time,” she says, striding inside and heading straight for a table to the side. “Please put your book away while you eat, we can’t return them soiled.”
Lett looks up from his current book, spots me, and promptly ignores everything Holly just said. “Mister! Welcome back!”
At her little table, Holly freezes. Now that I’m looking at her, it seems that she’s assembling a platter for his supper, complete with soup, spoon, fork, a glass of fully non-alcoholic water, and a napkin. Lifting the tray off the table, she turns around, smiling softly. “Thank you, Lett. I’m not a man, but I’m sure it’s not easy to tell, since…”
And now, she notices that he isn’t talking to her.
Putting his book to the side, Lett sits up straighter, not even sparing a glance at the food that’s been brought for him. “Please, could you tell me what happened to your dragon friend? Foss? What type was he in the end? Did he become a four-winged dragon, or—”
I want to reply to him, I really do. But Holly…
I turn to look at her. Ah, oops. When did I last see someone so utterly crestfallen? My gaze is returned by her, and after a moment’s recovery, she actually nods to me! Well, would you look at that? Permission to speak—granted.
Bread in hand, I approach him. “Well, see… Unfortunately, I can’t tell you! That’s for tomorrow to reveal. And… Actually, his name is Goss.”
“It is? Forgive me, I couldn’t quite hear it. Tomorrow, I’ll be sure to strain my ears to their greatest ability!”
“I’m sure you will,” I say, making a mental notation to have the next storytime take place closer to Lett’s window. “But, for now, I’ll need you to eat your fill so you can grow up and become a strong boy.”
His ears abruptly droop, and he finds with some strange degree of disgust that Holly is also here. “Oh. It’s you.”
Apparently, I don’t give Holly enough credit, because despite being given such a greeting, she somehow musters a smile regardless. “Yep! It’s me. Now, would you please…” His book is lying on his nightstand, and his bed is cleared. “Right. Thank you.” Walking over, she places the tray on his lap. The water cup wobbles a little, but Lett’s eyes are squarely on the bowl of soup. Taking this as my cue, I put the bread next to the bowl. There, all prepared. He watches the soup and the bread, as if transfixed. Holly, content, takes a step back. “We’ll be taking our leave now. I’ll be back in half an hour to pick up the tray, and please finish your food this time.”
Since he doesn’t reply to her whatsoever, Holly starts moving towards the door, waving for me to join her. My gaze flickers between her and Lett. After a moment, I shoot her a smile. “Ah, sorry, but… Would you mind if I stayed for a moment?”
Much like a threatened blowfish, she puffs up. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I—”
“Please?” Lett says, his tiny little face now turned to her as well, hope glimmering in his sunken eyes. “We still have so much to speak of. To have him present at my side would be an honor.”
Even though he didn’t use any words I would consider complicated, she’s looking at him as if he’s speaking in fluent pig Latin. Acting as translator, I step in. “He wants me to stay.”
“What?” she says, her right hand moving as though gripping for an invisible spear. “Why would he possibly—”
“He saved my life!” Lett shouts. “How can you persist in rejecting his accolade? First Gryph rejects him, and now, even you.”
In one ear, and out the other. At least it seems that a few words stuck, as Holly’s expression twists into one of uncertainty, her mouth opening and closing mechanically. “I don’t…” She shakes her head. “I’m not sure if you understand, Lett, but this man has killed and eaten children.”
A completely accurate statement which neither fazes nor disturbs Lett in the slightest. “He has saved my life,” he says with all the gravitas of a devout soldier. “It would be presumptuous of me to refuse should he choose to take it.”
That’s… A pretty hardcore statement from someone who probably doesn’t choose his own bedtime. Holly seems about as perturbed as I feel, though that might be due to his choice of words. I clear my throat. “He’s saying that—”
“I know what he said!” she barks. “I just…” Throwing her hands in the air, she’s one line from being the perfect image of the frustrated mother. “Fine! Have it your way!” Aaaaaand there it is. To complete her transformation, she’s even putting her hands on her hips. Impressive stuff, I’d say. She only breaks out of it to jerk a thumb in my direction. “You want this cannibalistic mass-murderer to be your end? Sure. But don’t blame me when he does what he always does!”