Who: Adair and a Young (age 12) Zachary Rain What: Fun before Goodbye's Where: Mississippi When: Backdated to about twelve years ago Rating: S for sad
Mississippi, in the middle of a dry spell. They were getting the kind of weather Alannah Myles sung about. His momma loved Black Velvet, liked to hum it while she cooked. Rain was sitting on the steps leading up to their trailer, one elbow perched on his knee so he could rest his head in his hand. With the other, he was idly picking at the scab on his thigh. It was only one of many; he loved playing outside too much, had trouble sitting still... now he was going to a real school, mom had said, and there he'd have to sit still all the time.
He was not going to cry. He'd made a friend back in Texas a couple years ago called Jeffrey. He'd only been ten at the time and he'd fallen out of a tree during a game of hide and seek. It hadn't been a long fall, but the shock had been enough to make him cry. Jeffrey'd laughed, and told him only babies whined and cried. Rain hadn't cried much since. He wasn't a baby, after all. Not back then and certainly not now.
The humid weather made his shirt and shorts stick to his skin, even though it was the hour of twilight and the sun had already gone to sleep. Somewhere off in the East, sister moon was rising. Rain swallowed hard - not crying, not gonna - and tried to ignore the sounds of his mom packing up his stuff inside. Unbidden, unwanted, tears started filling his eyes. Rain, rain, going away--hope you'll come back home someday. A tiny spin on an age-old rhyme bounced around in Adair's mind, as it had randomly for the last week since the news came to her ears. Especially now, the last night she had him before the dawn took him away. The carnival wasn't the typical place for one to raise children--it could be downright dangerous for that matter, but there was the exception... sitting there on the steps of his mother's trailer, mindlessly scratching at a mild scrape. The sadness wafted from him stronger than the smell of the boy's blood on the wind, and pulled at Adair's long-still heart worse than she had imagined.
She stood there in the shadow of the RV across from him, still closed to the light, seemingly steeling herself to move. Scrappy Zachary Rain was the closest thing she'd ever had to a child, and in the last six years, she'd loved him (and his mother) as such. Fragile creatures, shadows of the mortal life she had always wanted. Now the schooling and life lessons she and others had given the boy weren't enough for his kin. Adair could only imagine what his mother was feeling.
"Where's my Ducky?" came the amber whisper from the shadow, and then the red wisp of hair caught in the wind, pulled into the moonlight.
The soft breeze that caressed his too hot skin was welcome, even more so because it carried with it the sound of Adair's voice. Rain tore his eyes and fingers away from the scab - he wasn't supposed to be picking at it, anyway, if he wanted the scrapings to heal - and looked towards the shadows. Having grown up at the Carnival and among its occupants, the boy wasn't at all afraid of the dark like most of his peers. On the contrary, he was intrigued by darkness and had learned to love it, if only because it was home to most of those he called his family.
"Hi, Adair," he greeted her, though his voice wavered and the words lacked their usual enthusiasm. His momma had told him long ago that the redhead was a lady of the night and could never be with them during the day. So envious the sun was of her startling beauty, that she could never allow its rays to touch her ivory skin, for the sun gave life to them all but was also a cruel and vicious thing. Rain didn't even question his mother's words; Adair was by far one of the most beautiful and kind women he'd ever known. Second only to his own mother.
"She's folding up my clothes." He said, swallowing back the lump in his throat and fluttering his heartbreakingly long lashes in an attempt to hide his tears. "Says she's gonna have to cut my hair, too. It's not proper for boys to have it longish or parts of it braided where I'm goin'." His heart beat against his ribs, body panicking as it was reminded he was leaving come morning.
Taking soft, soundless steps forward, Adair closed the distance between her and the boy. By the time she sunk to her knees in front of him, her feet felt like they were weighted by iron shoes.
"It grows back," she said, masking her heartbreak, but unable to keep herself from tucking a bit of his dark hair behind his ear.
"And fast, too. Like you." Adair kept a warm smile on her face, though occasionally her eyes had to lower to the ground or shift to the sky to keep her tears very carefully hidden. Regular tears would push Rain's sensitive emotions further--seeing streaks of blood fall from her eyes would be way too much for him. "I'll bet you'll be a foot taller next time I see you." She stroked his hair again, giving them both a little hope.
It wasn't polite to slouch in front of a lady, so Rain straightened his back and looked her in the eye. The realisation of just how much he would miss her only hit him fully when she gently brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes and tucked it behind his ear. He'd been wanting to get it pierced for months now - so many of the men on site had an earring and why couldn't he - but his mom had insisted he was still too young. Perhaps in a year or two, she'd said, when your voice becomes that of a man rather than a boy. Now he'd never know if she would have kept true to her word.
Rain snorted, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Betcha I won't be. I'm not ever gonna grow," he replied, rolling his shoulders back uncomfortably. He didn't have many other boys his age to regularly compare heights with, but there were lots of teenagers who visited the Carnival. Watching them closely had lead to the depressing conclusion that he was a lot shorter than most almost-thirteen-year-olds across America.
He sighed and worried his lower lip. He sucked it in between his teeth, letting his eyes fall to his lap. He couldn't look at Adair's face and not cry like a baby. He just couldn't.
"Mom says it will be six years at least. Maybe even longer," he whispered, "I'll be old before I ever get back here. Maybe people'll have died." Rain looked up and caught her eyes again. "Please don't let her send me away. Please. I'll be good and study harder." He'd already burned through a few books most people didn't read until high school. It shouldn't be difficult.
"Oh, Ducky..." Adair could feel her own voice tighten, and forced a swallow to right herself. To keep him from seeing the possible swell of crimson in her eyes, she closed them--and gently pulled him into a hug. His warmth enveloped her; his hair smelled like sunshine and blooming dandelions, and his heart pounded in anguish against her chest. "You're so smart--we've taught you everything we can," she said, running her cool fingers through his hair one more time before she forced herself to stop, and simply hold him close. "You'll make lots of friends and won't have to leave them in a week, too."
Rain didn't have quite the same hang ups about physical contact as other boys his age. He'd always been taught that hugging was for everyone no matter who or how old they were, and not something silly only girls did. When Adair pulled him close to her, he went all too willingly and wrapped his skinny boy-arms around her neck. He burried his face in her red main and breathed in her scent. She always smelled nice, unlike anyone else.
"I don't need lots of friends," he mumbled honestly, closing his eyes against more tears threatening to well up. "I have family here. I have you and momma and Arkady and Melanthe and lots of other people." It was true that friends came and went for him, so many boys and girls he'd befriended all over the country, and every single one of them he had had to leave behind. They'd been so plenty, he wouldn't be able to count them even on ten hands. He had his mother's blood running through his veins, though, and over the years he'd become accustomed to leading a gypsy lifestyle.
"I just wanna stay here. Who needs school, anyway?" He hugged her a bit tighter, his tan skin -almost dark mocha in the summer- in sharp contrast with hers.
"You'll always have your family here," she soothed, and tried her best to take comfort in her own words. As much as she agreed with him, that he could do quite well if he spent his life as a nomad, surrounded by those who loved and protected him--she couldn't go against the wishes of his kin. After giving him a gentle squeeze, Adair pulled back a little, enough so she could see him and show him her hopeful, promising smile.
"I have a present for you, but only if you promise you'll show me how strong you are."
He reluctantly let go of her when she pulled back, and promptly wiped the wetness from his cheeks with his arm. He knew that he had to be brave for Adair and his mom, but it was a very difficult thing to be when he knew that he would have to leave his home behind in less than twenty-four hours.
His eyes widened just a little at the promise of a gift, however, and he curiously tilted his head to the side. It was his curiosity that made him such a great student, always eager to learn more about the world and all the creatures in it.
"A present? Well, what is it?" He straightened up his upper lip and brushed back a stray lock of hair. Maybe his momma was right and it really was getting too long.
She caught that spark in his rich hazel eyes--the colors of a kaleidoscopes in dark greens and browns, something Adair made a point to remind him of often. It lightened her heart a little, and it showed in her smile.
"It's very old, like me. And very precious, like you," Adair tucked one long, slender hand into the folds of her clothing and fished out a small broach pin made from paper-thin brass, wire, and tiny dew-drop crystals. She held it in her palm between them, tilting it back and forth to catch the moonlight.
"You promise; that however grown up you get, you'll keep it safe for me?"
Rain's mouth went a little slack when Adair conjured the piece of jewelry from between the folds of her clothes and held it up in a moonbeam, tilting it back and forth as to make it reflect he light. He watched in fascination as it in turn captured and released the pale moonlight, showcasing the beauty of the craftmanship. It was difficult for him to keep his eyes of it, and he reverently opened his palm to take it from her, immediately holding the broach pin up in the light himself.
"It's a dragonfly!" he exclaimed, delighted. Rain loved dragonflies. Really, how could one not love an insect with a name that cool? In his dreams their fragile bodies got replaced with that of miniature dragons. The kind that more often than not had a leading role in his mother's fairytales.
"What does it mean to you?" The boy asked, curious. He'd grown up around Adair and knew enough to suspect that she didn't merely give it to him because it was pretty.
His delight was like Heaven to her, not only seen in his face, but lightening the tangible cloud of heavy emotion that had surrounded him. She smiled brightly, though she was careful to angle her top lip enough so the brunt of her fangs was hidden. The tips, tiny, sharp and cat-like, were never completely hidden.
"It was my sister's, a very long time ago. She gave it to me because I was sad... Now it makes me happy to give it to you."
Seeing her smile so brightly brought a little joy to his heart, and he returned her affection with his eyes, not quite able to make his lips form an equally brilliant smile right then. Rain carefully held the broche by its tail and brought it up to his mouth so he could press a soft kiss against it. "I'll keep it safe," he promised her, with all the seriousness of the young and devoted, "for your sister." Adair had only spoken of her once or twice that he could remember, but it wasn't in his nature - despite his endless curiosity - to inquire about other peoples' heartaches. Those were there own to keep and share if they felt like it. Having spent so much time around adults had made him quite wise for his age.
"I might have to find a way to put some cord on it. Keep it on me always, even when I'm not wearing a shirt." He hesitated "... would that be okay?"
She couldn't stop herself from placing a cool palm on the side of his cheek, patting lightly to show her approval. "Of course, Ducky." The pad of her thumb moved over his cheekbone in a gesture of pure, perfect affection, before she withdrew her hand and set it on her lap. Watching and helping him grow had been one of the best experiences of her entire, long life. He was the son she never had; she delighted in his changes, his gradual maturity, even if he was a bit of a late bloomer--Adair adored him. It was killing her to see him go.
Especially when she caught his mother's scent on the other side of the trailer door. Adair didn't need to look up to sense the woman was watching them, her own heartbreak masked by hoping the journey would be good for her only child.
"Tell you what; we'll watch the shows together tonight--you and I. And I'll even stay in the dawn to see you off."
Although Rain wasn't the kind of kid who craved attention and needed it always - like some of the boys and girls who came to see the shows with their parents and tried to outshine even the most spectacular of performers on stage with their "look at me! look at me!" attitudes - he did thrive when people gave him their affection, and over the years he'd garnered plenty. He especially loved it when Adair gave him hers, and he nodded when she suggested they watch the shows together. It didn't matter that if he'd seen them once, he'd seen them a hundred times before; she was going to be watching with him, and that made all the difference.
He frowned when she continued on to tell him she'd see him off in the dawn. Not only because the reminder that yes, he was actually going away and it might as well have been for good made his stomach clench violently but because she was going to stay in the dawn.
Rain shook his head. "I don't want you to risk getting burned," he replied honestly, "you're way too beautiful to be out in the light." A slightly mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Can we watch the burlesque show too, though?" His mother was of the opinion that naked bodies were a thing of beauty to be worshiped and he should never be ashamed of his or anyone else's... but she also believed that now that he was 'becoming a man' he shouldn't be in there anymore. Not until he was a bit taller, anyway.
Adair's heart jumped--or seemed like it did--when a chirp of bright, almost astonished laughter jumped from her lips. Little Rain was skinny as a bean-pole and had the high voice of a ten year old still, but little quips like that reminded her that he was definitely growing up--something deep inside her cherished the fact that she got to see him through his entire childhood--which would be ending soon. Probably within a year. That thought actually made her happy: that she and the others had been able to give him such a wonderful, carefree childhood.
"There will be other times, love--I promise." That was her way of skirting around taking a pre-adolesent boy into the steamy show. She moved on easily.
"And I promise I won't burn. I'm an old woman--the sun will forgive me this time."
It was only because he had much greater worries on his mind that Rain refrained from pouting and letting his shoulders slump at Adair's evasive answer. "Okay," he concided, rolling his eyes. He was convinced that there wasn't a place on earth they could send him that would harbor the same beautiful, enchanting women the Carnival's burlesque show had to offer. He'd peeked through the flaps of the tent whenever he thought he would get away with it - which wasn't nearly as often enough as he would have liked - but he'd never been able to watch a real show. Only when he was younger still, and wasn't interested in anything other than the music and movement. Damn shame, it was, that he'd missed out on that... maybe even for forever. That's how long it felt like it was going to be to his young mind, anyway.
"You're not an old woman, Adair," he said softly, reaching out to trace the shape of her nose and cheekbones, her lips and chin, "you're pretty as any flower after the rain. You smell as nice, too." So perhaps he was very biased and had been reading a little too much poetry lately, but people had been forgiven for greater sins in the past.
"I don't wanna think about leaving, though. Makes my heart ache." He sounded much older than his twelve years right then, a certain maturity settling over his face that he'd acquired over years unknowingly spent with vampires. And then just as quickly it was gone, as he jumped up on his legs and pinned the dragonfly broche on his worn shirt. It looked goofy and out of place, but Rain beamed with pride. "Tonight I'm going to stay up waaay late and eat so much candy I'll have to throw up." He seemed contemplative. "And then I'll eat some more!"
Adair glanced very quickly up at Rain's mother through the trailer's screen door, attaining permission for what the boy proposed. The young woman smiled sadly, nodding once, but remained silent. The vampiress turned her attention back to her adoptive son.
"Sounds like a challenge to me," she smiled and rolled her thin shoulders back in order to rise to her feet. Heavy twists and waves of her hair dangled loose and low, reaching for her waist--a few bits and pieces clung to her arm as it extended, waiting for him to take her hand.