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A Long, Cold Night

Beald's night had started off so strangely, to have a Verchiel Corbet, the apprentice of Amerald, show up at his place. The conversation followed by the strange ritual that had left him with a King Bird's feather. A part of him had been almost tempted to stay home, to watch the feather, to see what became of it... but he couldn't do it, he had far to much to do and had to tend to the graveyard, had to keep it safe from the many fools out there that believed that instead of doing an honest days work that they would instead take the lazy way out. He would be damned if the first thing he did when this child came into the world was show him or her bad habits ala him not doing his job.

He had pulled on his cloak, gathered up his lantern into one hand after lighting it, his shovel in the other hand, and he headed off into the graveyard to work. It was a quiet night for the most part, he only had to chase off one drunk who had come stumbling into the graveyard with the idea in mind to try to sleep it off on the grounds. Beald had been more then helpful enough to grab hold of the man by the scruff of his neck before throwing him bodily out of the front gate and into the street in front of it. He didn't want any of those dirty, lazy, and worthless drunks stinking up his space. Once he was gone he'd returned to his rounds, making sure that everything was where it should be, that the grave stones were all upright knowing there were vandals that came to this particular place wanting to piss him off by making a mess. Everything seemed to be alright, perhaps they hadn't gotten a chance to mess with him? Perhaps they had run into Corbet on their way here and were chased off another person being around at this time a nigh?

A night without having to clean up one of their messes or having to chase them off was a good night in Beald's book. If only there was a way to keep those brats gone for good but since he'd yet to figure out a way to deter teenagers for good short of thumping them all in the knees with his shovel he would be forced to deal with what they considered amusing for a while longer. After all it wasn't as though Beald meant to die anytime soon, he would have a son or daughter soon, one that could carry on his life's work. To protect something, it was a life that he felt was one that was well lived even if he did have some regrets. He could only hope due to the special nature of his child that he wouldn't end up with the same regrets. After all if the child wasn't supposed to exist, if it wasn't supposed to make itself known to the world then that must mean it was the same with all of the others that were created in such a strange manner as well. If that were so then Beald hoped the child wouldn't have to worry about the pains of a unrequited love. A strange thought, one that was a bit to emotional for the grave keeper and one that he shoved aside so that he didn't have to think to hard on it. He would worry instead about more pressing matter such as where the child would sleep when it was born as well as what to feed it.

Both were thoughts that came to mind that he knew he would need to figure out soon enough. He should have asked more of Corbet, if the child would eat the same sort of food as normal, what age it would be when it was awoken, things like that. Instead he'd just left him leave Beald's small home without so much as a single logical thoughts after the man had performed his ritual. Things like that were far above a simple man like him and were reserved for those that truly understood them. From the sounds of it this would be a wait and see, trial and error sort of thing but then again from what he gathered that was just what raising children was. He would be damned if his child grew up like one of those little delinquents that roamed around town he thought to himself in a somewhat grouchy manner. Those kids were nothing but a bunch of spoiled layabouts that didn't know the meaning of an honest days work or the value of the things they so carelessly tromped upon. His child on the other hand would know better. Such lessons were drilled into Beald's head at a young age and so he would teach the same sorts of lessons, after all he'd grown up well enough if he did say so himself.

As he roamed around he found himself wondering what it would be like to look at a father and child relationship from the role of the parent instead of that of the child. He knew full well that there were times that he'd given his guardian a hard time when the man was still alive, complained a lot and carried an about the unfairness of the life he wasn't content with then but was happy enough with now, how things had changed in his mind. He could only hope his child didn't grow up with the same frame of mind that he had, after all unlike when Beald had run away from this life for a short amount of time the child he would be raising wouldn't be able to do such a thing without putting itself in danger. No matter though, there was no reason to worry so hard right this very moment about things that wouldn't be happening until the future.

Instead of worrying about the future he would do the prudent thing, worrying about the present. Beald's eyes lifted to look toward the sky, he could see the way that it was lightening ever so slightly, the horizon taking on a pink tinge. Another night had gone by with just Beald, alone with his thoughts in the graveyard he took such good care of. For the first time as dawn approached he felt the desire to hurry home, curious as to what was going on with the feather.

Hello There

The sight that greeted Beald when he stepped into his home was one he had tried to prepare himself for but at the same time how prepare could someone be for the birth of a child? Especially when it was birth that occurred while he was away. It wasn't as though he were in anyway upset that he had missed it, wasn't really even worried that it had happened faster then he'd expected, all that he knew was that the little child, and it was a child not an infant he realized, was sitting on his bed with a slightly bewildered look on his face. He was new to the world and Beald was sure that given his present state of dress and how he was armed that he wasn't exactly the least intimidating figure around.

The man pushed the door closed behind himself, slid the lock into place, then moved to rest his shovel against the wall, leave the lantern on the table, before he drew the shades closed. Once that was all done he walked over toward where the boy was sitting, lowering himself down to sit with him, then smiled, "I know that you must be a little shaken having just been born into the world but I assure you that you don't have to be afraid of me, I am after all your Papa." He explained to the boy that shared the same colored eyes with him, the same orange eyes that ran in his family. It made him smile to see the trait had been passed on to his son... though looking him over he saw many things that seemed to come from the feather that he was born of. He had dark fathers sprouting in an interesting manner from his arms, two that grew from his head and trailed behind him like streamers, and then there were the little wings that grew from his back that were fluttering behind him in a manner that said the child was a little nervous still.

"Its alright, don't be scared now." He said, reaching out to catch hold of the blanket at the foot of the bed, shaking it open before he wrapped it around the child, drawing him close to hug him, "My son, my sweet little son." He murmured, showing emotion that rarely escaped passed his hard outer shell, seeming to be moved by the fact that he was a father now, no longer alone in the world. He had someone to take care of, to raise, to love and be loved by. It was a wonderful thing... though at the same time he knew that he would need to take care of him. Non-humans weren't exactly welcome in this world so he would need to make sure that he was kept safe from those that might not care for him. He was sure that he would be able to figure something out, how to deal with the bird like features that his son came into the world with. It could have been a lot worse, it could have been things that were more difficult to hide he thought to himself before rising to his feet.

He looked down at the one he was holding before giving him a smile, "Now, I am going to find you something of mine to wear for now and we will see about getting you some clothing of your own very soon, alright?" He told the boy sitting him down on the table in the middle of the room while he moved the short distance between it and were his dresser stood. He dug around in it for a while picking up a few things, looked at them, shook his head, then moved on. After a time he found a shirt that would suffice, one that was smaller then the rest, kept mostly for sentimental reasons, that being that the shirt was one his mother had made for him a long, long time ago before he'd been adopted into another family, "Here we are." He said, moving over to the boy, helping him into it. Even though for Beald it was small it fell passed the boy's knees and looked a little bit like a dress... no matter though, it would have to suffice for now. Now all they had to do was see about getting some clothing his size once he'd gotten a bit of rest.

"Now listen to me closely kiddo." He said as he picked him up once more into his arms, walking over toward the bed and plopped down on it, "We are going to nap for a while, once I wake up we will see about getting you everything that you need to be comfortable in your new life." He told him as he laid back on the bed, eyes closed before his head even hit the pillows.

The boy boy was quiet for a moment, starring at the giant of a man that called himself 'Papa' and he chewed lightly on his lower lip, seeming to be thinking deeply on something of the utmost importance before speaking, "Ahh... Papa... I'm hungry." Two simple words that drew Beald's attention away from sleep and suddenly made him realize that things were going to become a touch more difficult now that it wasn't just himself he had to take care of...

A Night Out

It was a long time in coming really, the moment he'd gotten the boy and they had started to get used to one another, and the boy got used to Beald's schedule he knew that something like this was going to happen. He had just been lucky thus far. The sun was starting to set in the sky, coloring it a deep hue of pink, and Beald needed to be going... but he had a small boy clinging to his cloak, starring up at him with those deep orange eyes of his, and he wasn't about to let go. It would appear as though being left alone every night since he'd been born had finally become enough for the boy...

"Papa... please... I want to go out with you, I want to help... I can help." He said, tugging on the man's large cloak, trying to keep the man from leaving until he agreed to let him go along. Adelbert was a small, light weight child and it wouldn't take anything for Beald to remove the boy from his cloak and force him to stay behind. He was sure though that if he left in such a manner that it would be more then likely that the child would come along anyway, following behind, and he couldn't allow that. It would be dangerous to allow his son to follow along after him since that would likely involve him getting lost... and what if bad people were wandering around in the graveyard that he had to take care of? Thieves and vandals, they came around always thinking that they would outwit him. If they grabbed Adelbert they might be able to use him a collateral.

A heavy sigh escaped from Beald as he set his things down on the the ground next to the door before turning to face him, "Adelbert." He said, his tone very, very serious as he starred down at him before reaching down to smooth hand hand over his hair and streamer like feathers, "You know that you would have to get all of your outdoor clothing on if you were going to come along, right?" Hoping that the prospect of wearing all of the items that helped to mask his bird features would be enough to dissuade his son.

The look on the boy's face was one of being deeply torn by that revelation. He hated the coat... it would squish his wings and it made the feathers on his arms itch like crazy but... he supposed that if that was the only way to go with his Papa and not have to be left all alone in the darkness of their home he would have to deal with it, right? He gave a sound in his throat that said he was debating with himself before slowly nodding his head, "I... will get my coat." He said, finally releasing his hold on the cloak he'd been clinging to so tightly so that he could go and get his coat from where it hung on a hook by the door. He looked at it, at his Papa's cloak, and then back again, "I want a cloak, Papa." He said surely it wouldn't rub as much against his arms right? And that way he could hide all of himself within it just like Papa did.

"We will see." He said, a little miffed that his son had decided to wear the coat so that he could come along. He'd really been hoping that it would be enough to cause him to stay inside inside. He wasn't one to go back on his word. Honesty was important above all else... which was what made the deception over what his son was all that much more strange. Beald wouldn't normally lie about things, wouldn't hide things, and yet he was doing so every day when it came to his son. He'd even had to tell someone that knew him that the boy had been, until recently, being raised by his mother who had passed. Lies on top of lies, he didn't like it in the least. To keep the boy safe from those that would try to get rid of him one way or another though he would continue on until the day his son was allowed to walk around freely despite being part bird.

Once the boy had his coat and headband in place, the headband there to make it seem as though the streamer feathers were just a strange fashion choice of a child, he took hold of the boy's hand and without any effort at all he was able to lift the boy up to perch on his shoulder, "Now, if your going to be coming out with me your going to be aiding me in my work, Adelbert, its no game where we are going." He told him as he swept up his lantern in one had and his shovel in the other, the two items he always carried while out and about.

"Yes, Papa. I want to help." He said, hands resting on the top of Beald's head, ducking down when they went through the front door so as not to bonk his head on the door jam. Once outside the door was closed and locked behind them, something done even if Adelbert was left inside, and then they were on their way into the graveyard. It looked a lot more spooky at night, didn't it he found himself thinking, "Are there ghosts in the graveyard, Papa?" He whispered to the one that was carrying him.

Beald gave a nod of his head, "There are a few spirits that wander the grounds, I doubt that they will bother with you if you leave them alone." He said as they walked along, heading toward the front gate, he paused just outside of it looking down one way then the other before stepping back inside, pulling closed the massive, wrought iron gates closed behind him and chained them shut against anyone that might try to get in the easy way, "This is what needs to be done every night to keep everything outside out and everything inside in. Its then my job to deal with everything that is inside." Anyone foolish enough to hide within the grounds trying to get at what was buried within had to deal with him and his trusty shovel, never a pretty sight for sure. He hoped that there weren't any of those fools around tonight since the last thing his son needed to see was someone getting bashed in the back of the knees with a shovel. Though most likely he'd see it at some point in the future but better that it happen when he was older and could better understand instead of when he was a child.

He supposed they would see as the night progressed what would happen among the gravestones and within the sprawling grounds of the graveyard that Beald was in charge of and one day Adelbert would be in charge of as well.

~ Reserved for Ghost Hunting

Scary...

Adelbert hadn't been so scared of something in all of his life, ghosts included, as he had of Iri when the boy had last visited the graveyard. To think that he would get so upset, so violent, and so determined when it came to doing what he wanted. The boy gave a sound in his throat as he looked around, as though certain that he would show up before he went back to what he was doing, the same thing he always did when he wanted to relax, that being weaving flowers into wreaths to hang on the graves that were so old that they no longer had names on them, no longer had visitors, nobody knew who they belonged to and only Adelbert spent time with them.

Turning his head he looked toward his Papa, he'd been sticking close to the man of late, wanting to reassure himself that things were alright, that he was alright, that he didn't have to worry about getting jumped again. He was almost certain that his being constantly underfoot was driving his Papa a little buggy but the man dealt with it since he knew his son was a little jumpy. The feeling was starting to ease though day by day, allowing him to breath easier, he was able to at least least go outside for small errands, mostly dropping off the wreaths he made, and he didn't cling as much to his Papa now. The man had nearly tripped over him a few times the day that Iri had been so mean to him he was so close to him, nearly walking on the larger male's feet.

When he was done with his current wreath he hopped down off his seat, walking over to the door, and peeked out to make sure that the coast was clear before going out. He knew that it was silly to be afraid of him, they were the same age, same size, he should be able to fight back and he should be able to be as brave as his Papa was when faced with danger. It was something he would admit he was a little ashamed of, being so weak when Papa was so strong. Maybe... maybe next time if Iri tried something he would fight back? He was sure he could do it! Of course the moment he thought this a bird happened to fly over head and the sound of wings drew a squeak from him and he nearly ran back into the house before realizing that it was nothing more then a bird and not Iri. How embarrassing...

Giving a shake of his head he hurried to the grave that he'd made the wreath for, giving a smile, "I brought you a present." He said, kneeling down after he'd hunt it around the vaguely cross shaped gave, bowing his head for a moment, then rose to his feet once more, "I'd stay longer but... well you know." He'd already told them what had happened and that should be enough of an explaination so they shouldn't mind that he wanted to stay inside today. There was a warm breeze that blew passed, blowing passed him and through his hair in an almost soothing manner, making him feel as though they understood before he turned to hurry back inside. Once the door was locked behind him again he was able to relax again.

"I really shouldn't be so scared." He murmured to himself, Iri was loud and he was a bit of a bully but still, if he let him have his own way he was only going to end up bullied the rest of his life... or so his Papa had told him. He wouldn't be any use to the graveyard and the safekeeping of those resting here if he let everyone bully him, would he? That was a disheartening thought, especially when he wanted one day to be as strong as his Papa. Between the fact that he'd already gotten sick once as well as gotten beat up by Iri, he wasn't on the right track to be the future gravekeeper but he would just have to try harder to be stronger! He had to be more like Papa and less like...well... himself!

Giving a nod he crawled back up onto his chair and set to work weaving the next of the wreaths, there were still many graves to go and he didn't want any of them to be left without a wreath less the one resting there might think he didn't care for him or her as much as he did the others, "I will get everyone a nice wreath, promise." He murmured to himself as he worked.