Sky Min (gotsomebite) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-04-29 22:39:00 |
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The nuns’ judging eyes were everywhere. At first, Sky had been happy to get out of Lindwyrm. He’d been sick of staring at the same walls with the same refugees and the same gross food and the same healers telling him what he could do and what he couldn’t do. It was great to be in the same place as Pyr, even if they couldn’t and wouldn’t get up into the same mischief they would normally do otherwise, but Sky was getting ready to scale the walls up until his sister had shown up with the news of what had happened to Arwel’s (he had answered with an “oh” and didn’t ask questions -- it was part he didn’t want to know, and part already knew the answer to the one he wondered about the most) and an offer to let him stay with her instead. Sky had readily accepted, though he hadn’t imagined that nuns would factor into the equation. Now he had to be good, a task that was a lot harder to get a strong foothold on. He tried not to swear, but often slipped up, and earned a Look. He said something that could maybe be construed as a little bit blasphemous if you squinted, earned a Look. Made loud noises, a Look. It was almost enough to want to go back to the Docks. Almost. “So bored,” he moaned as he slumped over the breakfast table. Let the nun give him that Look. He didn’t care. Peony, in contrast, did not choose to discipline him. She ate her own bland porridge with a serene expression as Sky moaned over his sad fate. “Perhaps you would like to assist in the Tower today?” she asked. In truth, they needed hands more than magicks, now, and it was something to do, though she doubted it would alleviate boredom. “I’m afraid there is little I can offer aside from that at this time,” she said. “However, no doubt Pyr and his comrades can use assistance at one of the Fighters’ Guild guildhalls, if you prefer.” Sky made a face, still not lifting himself from the cold, hard table. “Ugh.” On the one hand, being with Pyr would make any chore less awful, but on the other, Faram damn was he sick of the guildhalls, too. But would the Tower be any better? “Work’s all there is?” Her smile was indulgent as she told him, “Unfortunately, for a little while longer, that is likely to be the case, yes.” But after a moment of thought, she offered, “If you would like to get outside, however, perhaps you would prefer to run some simple errands for me?” The streets were safe enough, now, and few people realized his relation to her, so she had to trust that nothing ill would befall him. And there were things she needed that might take some tracking down - but for an energetic young boy, perhaps the hunt, with ensuing runaround, would prove at least a little diverting. “Errands?” Sky considered this a moment. “Like what?” “A few deliveries,” she said. Money, mostly, best to come from someone who was not so obviously a mage. “Food for the dog and cat. Some other purchases.” She thought it might take him only a few hours to complete, and a bit of running around might actually do him good. “I will be at Riyeko’s today,” she added, her voice a bit sad, “if you would prefer to join me.” The errands seemed easy enough. Nothing he wasn't used to anyway. But it was the mention of Riyeko that had him flinch. No, thank you, and never were on the tip of his tongue, to be delivered sharply, but he bit the words back. Peony wouldn't appreciate it, and Sky shouldn't care, but he did. Riyeko was... He scowled, hoping that the contortion of his face would shield not only Peony but himself from the bubbling emotions. "Maybe," he finally answered with a mumble. “I will make you a list,” Peony said. “If you can get to some of the items while I take care of other business, it would be very helpful.” She thought again of her plan to appropriate the kitchen robot for the boys. She would try to get to the workshop today -- she rather thought they would like to have it, even if it had disciplined them once or twice. She had not yet found the hoverboard, either. Everyone grieved in their own way; although the boys had not known her old friend well or very long, she knew that they, too, ached for her loss. Her own pain was carefully compartmentalized away. There was no time for it, not now. "'Kay." It was better than the other thing, anyway. |