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 Posted: Mon Jun 13, 2011 8:12 am
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Posted: Mon Jun 13, 2011 8:14 am
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Another Notch on the Wall
But you were so small, just yesterday!
The day was much chillier than what the twins had been used to, especially when the sun still gleamed above the moist clouds lazing about the skies. Suppose this was only to be expected when the day had only barely started, but Iridian was beginning to doubt the intelligence in his most recent of stints as he lied in the grass, attempting to steady his breathing as the dew-caked blades dried themselves off on his clothes. Maybe... if he stayed here long enough, that wouldn't matter. Maybe he wouldn't be noticed, and his clothes would dry on their own. It wasn't as if anybody knew he was out here, anyway.
Except that somebody did know he was out there, and although he was concerned about the condition of his brother, Cheyenne couldn't very well run out to check on him. At least, not right this second. Besides, his brother deserved that blow, and he would be the first to admit that Iridian was being incredibly stupid. Even though Cheyenne was almost itching to do just that, it was an impossibility at the moment. At the moment, he was too preoccupied being squished by the woman he called "mother."
"You're not tiny anymore!" she nearly squealed in excitement, trying to let the boy breathe through her own uncontainable astonishment. She realized she was stating the obvious, but her mouth wouldn't let her say anything else with more thought put in; the words decided they wanted to tumble out instead, "I knew you'd have a growth spurt, but this-! This, I wasn't expecting!" At the very least, she was glad she was still able to pick the child up, though the motion was more awkward than previously.
Not only that, but it even started hurting a little as time passed, the extra weight of a taller body putting strain on the pressure points where she had him secured to herself. He squirmed, and Otomeza realized she was being just shy of the obnoxious, weepy mother on her own child's wedding day. But how was one supposed to react when time seemed to move so much more quickly for a child that was not borne of the mother, but was likened so much that he might as well have? It almost wasn't fair, how hasty time moved, and she wasn't prepared to accept it just yet. Her surprise rose, instead, as glee. She snickered, but quickly released the boy from her grasp, "Sorry about that, hon. Say... if you've grown, then does that mean Riddy has as well?" She blinked, glancing down the hall where she was sure the boy was still resting. It took all her effort not to run down that hall and check in on him to make sure herself; he was the older brother, after all! He was sure to have grown, too!
Cheyenne frowned at the question, irritated at something he had yet to voice. It was something that had been biting at him for a while now, and he was now alone with Meza. Although still concerned about his brother's well-being, he also knew Iridian was resilient and practically made of rubber. He could stall a little longer, if it meant getting this gripe off his chest. "Riddy?" he asked, though the question was quick to be misinterpreted.
The draconic woman blinked and nodded, still itching to check on him, "Yes, Riddy." She mimicked the frown, but to a much lower degree; had she said something wrong? Did she anger him somehow? Oh... were they in a fight again?
But that was not the case, and Cheyenne's frown disappeared as he looked up to his mother. "Yeah... I-I'm sure, but..." he had hoped the words would come to him easily, but that did not seem to be the case. He was still as bad at conversation as before.
Otomeza realized his uncertainty and smiled, crouching down to his eye level to give him her full attention. Despite having just gone through a growth spurt, the woman still towered over the child, "What is it, Cheyenne?"
"That's... that's just it," he attempted, "I'm fine, but..." He fidgeted, trying to find the words, but Otomeza just smiled patiently. She was no longer in any rush, and her stance, although strained in balance, was relaxed. This caused the pale boy to calm down and recollect himself. It was nothing to get worked up on anyway, it was just... awkward to be faced with everything at once. This was a problem from the past, and it linked that past with the present. "Riddy... he has a nickname. I don't. Well... I do, but not one I like," he tried to explain with a wrinkle of his nose. 'Ennie' just sounded much too... feminine, and 'Cheyenne' was so long to say all the time!
Otomeza laughed at the comment that she was sure would be on a much larger scale, with the amount of struggling he had just endured to say it. Well, it wasn't such a small scale, either, but definitely not something expected. "Ahh, I see! You have a good point! Hmm... let's see..." she began to try to come up with something that a boy might find 'cool,' and in those moments, she decided to poke a little fun, "I'm sure you don't really like being called 'hon' all the time, either, huh?"
Cheyenne was struck with surprise, but a smile emerged on his face because of it. He shook his head and replied matter-of-factly, "Uh-uh, that's okay. I just mean something that other people can call me. Like Riddy!" And my friends, he added mentally, still shy about the concept.
"Oh I know, I know, I was just being silly!" she stated, ruffling his hair, "Hmm... let's see, I think I have something, but you'll have to hear me out about it, okay?" Her scheming was visible on her features, but it wasn't anything conniving. To say that Cheyenne was curious was an understatement.
* * *
It was an interesting observation to be made. When one goes through life with halved senses, one tends to realize some things that are easily missed by those who take their senses for granted. Not that Iridian was much different; he could take life itself for granted without blinking an eye, and to such an extent that it was even noticed by himself. However, while trying to remain as silent as he could be -- a feat rarely taken on by the energetic boy -- he started to appreciate the little things he noticed while simultaneously ruing those little things he didn't have that others barely noticed they did.
The air was beginning to warm up, and he knew it would only be a matter of time before anyone found him outside, sprawled on the grass under the tree in the backyard. It was a mistake to notice the time, he knew, but it was observations made prior that made the passage of time that much more evident.
That, and although the footsteps on the grass pretended they could sneak up on him, he knew his time out here was short. The bearer of those footsteps knew there was no way to catch him by surprise, but it only alerted Iridian to who it was. Without opening his eyes, the scaled boy in the damp grass started speaking to the child wrapped in the confines of his own sweater as he inched closer, "Have you ever noticed... tha' when you close your eyes 'n ears, all you have a sense'a is your heartbea'?"
The footsteps stopped nearing, parking themselves at Iridian's own bare feet. "...Took a pretty nasty fall, didn't you?" despite the muffled voice under the hood, Cheyenne's mild exasperation was still clear as he glanced down at his brother's form. "That...--"
"--was stupid, I know," Iridian finished, the pain from his fall off the tree coming back to him, despite the length of time he had been lying where he was to get rid of it. He sat up, wincing but glad that the wind was no longer knocked out of him.
Cheyenne was surprised he hadn't started crying from the pain of it, if for no other reason than to get the attention. In fact, there was a lot that was wrong about this whole morning, but there was only one thing about it that the younger twin jumped to point out. "Yeah, I'll say. Look! You ripped a hole in your tail!" he growled before reeling back a little at it, "...Doesn't it hurt?"
"Yes. Yes, i' hurts a lot," he responded, louder than he meant to as a sharp, achy pain ran across his ribs; he must have pulled a muscle. He set his head to rest on his knees, his face turned toward the grass as he waited for the pain to pass again. He realized that the grass was still moist with dew and, because of this, his back was the same way. So much for drying it while lying there.
Cheyenne frowned, on his knees at this point so that he didn't have to strain his neck so much to look at his brother. What a pain... he sighed, but the thought made him feel more at home despite his body making him feel so out-of-place. In an attempt to get his brother's mind off of his own ordeal, he decided to change the subject, "Mom thought of a new nickname for me. I like it. I think I'm gonna start using it."
A brief lull in answering time as Iridian caught his breath, and he pulled himself in to the conversation, "Oh yeah? An' wha' name is tha'?" It was then that he lifted his head up to look at the concealed form of his younger brother, outside despite the pelting of the morning's sun rays. Must've really been concerned. Was it really that bad of a fall? Well, the tree was still quite tall, even after their growth spurts. Maybe... he should take it easy for a bit. Life wasn't slowing down, but there was still time to adapt to situations; he wasn't alone.
"China," the grin was easily visible in the shade the hood cast, pleased with the name. A confused glance from Iridian told the newly-dubbed China exactly what he thought his brother would interpret the word as, and his grin quickly melted into an irritated scowl, "Not the country, idiot!" He may have sounded angry, but it was merely a brotherly jab, a play at the situation that may have occurred had Cheyenne not been so worried; it held a different weight. It was also easily dissolved into the eagerness to teach his brother something new, all on his own, "China is another word for porcelain. Y'know, like those breakable plates that Mom has on the walls in the living room?"
Iridian giggled, and Cheyenne braced himself for his brother's own jabs that were sure to come, "Y'mean 'cause you're so much more breakable than others, and have no color?" It certainly made Iridian feel better to get his mind off of his own pain, but he could also see his brother tense up at the comment. He let his laughter die off at it's own pace, which wasn't exactly quick. Leaning against his legs, he added, "Actually, y'know... I like i'. I' doesn' make me feel like tha's wha' it means. I' sounds... better. Umm..." he tried to think of a different way to put it, so Cheyenne would understand what he meant. As it was, Cheyenne was only getting more tense out of uncertainty. "I'... I' sounds cool!"
"...Really?"
"Yeah! Lot more creative than Riddy!" He beamed back, and it was apparent Iridian was being sincere, not that he was just trying to cover up a goof on his part.
Cheyenne lightly flushed at the compliment. He attempted to hide this occurrence with another observation, and one he could blame his tinged cheeks on simultaneously, "It's getting warm out here." Iridian nodded in return, but no words were offered. Cheyenne continued, "Mom's gonna hug you when she sees you."
Iridian moaned at the thought of it. For a few seconds, that was all the reply he gave. Following up, he offered an idea, "Can... we jus' stay out here for a bi'? I wanna be able to breathe again before she makes i' so I can't."
[[ Word Count: 2,069 ]] |
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Posted: Mon Jun 13, 2011 8:20 am
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The Value of T's
Tendencies die hard when brought to light
Another day, and everything normal started falling back into place. Outward appearances may have changed literally overnight, but little else was found to be under such metamorphosis. It wasn't as though this was found to be unusual -- after all, as a person is given time to adjust to something so new, they begin falling back into old habits. Old habits, however, have a tendency to be taken with a grain of salt. As it is, most habits are classified as 'bad.'
While some habits are easy to get used to for other people, there appear to be some that only grind on the nerves. Instead of finding a niche in time, they wear a hole in it, eventually falling through. Truth be told, when this happens, it tends to have much more disastrous and lasting effects on an individual. However, when it comes to those who are fresh out of toddler-dom, such things are hardly life-shattering.
As it was, Otomeza found herself immersed in a battle of habits, and after a momentary lapse of surprise, this fact only served to instill amusement at the situation once it was fully realized. The jarring effect of the start made it less immediately evident, however, and Otomeza had her hands full -- literally -- giving herself enough power not to just drop the dishes she was cleaning as she heard a loud crack against a back wall, soon followed by an irritated Cheyenne storming down the hall. He seated himself at the dining table, arms crossed over the surface as he scowled across the room yet not at anything in particular. He wasn't about to say what was ticking him off at the moment, but his vine-like tail was thrashing enough to cause concern. It was apparent that he wanted her to ask what the matter was without having to start the conversation himself, otherwise he would have merely stormed into his own room instead. Unless that loud sound came from his room, that is, she thought with a bite to her inner bottom lip.
She had opted to set the dishes down in the sink instead of completing the rinsing process, deciding to finish at a later time. Drying her hands off, she wandered over to the table, stopping with enough space between her and her youngest son to still give him some breathing room. In all honesty, it was also partly because she didn't want to get hit with that wicked barb on the end of his twitchy tail. When it was obvious that he wasn't going to glance up to her, she placed a hand on the tabletop quietly yet within range of his vision beneath his overgrown bangs, and in a breath, asked, "China... what's the matter?"
Simplistic, but it was all that was needed. The frown didn't lessen in severity as his blaring eyes were raised to meet his guardian's. He released his right hand from the fold of his left, using it to talk with and likewise give balance on the surface of the table while the other was just short of clawing into the parallel arm. "I asked Riddy if he could do something for me, and he said he could. But he didn't, and I asked him about it. He told me he had never said that!" he growled, tossing a light smack on the table from the propped palm, "He always does that! I hate it!"
Otomeza flinched at the open display of anger, noting that it was something that she'd have to fix. Showing anger was one thing, but he was getting a little more outwardly violent with his actions than she deemed appropriate in any scenario. Her own tufted tail curled about her, tossing the curly-stranded tip to and fro in thought, she asked after a moment, "What exactly was it that he said?" She had a sneaking suspicion.
And it turned out to be right on the money. "He said, 'I can.' Then he said, 'I never said that,'" Cheyenne mimed, grumpily mimicking the tones used in emphasis but lacking in the way Iridian's voice truly sounded.
It took a great deal of effort for Otomeza to calm the smile that threatened, and even then, the slight pinch of one could be seen at the corner of her mouth. "Would you like to help me teach Riddy how to properly pronounce his sentences?" she asked. It was apparent that Cheyenne knew where the conversation between himself and his brother had gone awry, but the continuous occurrence of this sort of misunderstanding was commonplace. Frankly, Cheyenne was through with it.
His scowl deepened, arms fully crossed about his chest once again. "He won't listen. I don't really--"
"C'mon. He will listen; he just needs to practice. I'll help, too," she urged, her hand hovering inches from the boy's shoulder to escort him back into the room, "But you're going to have to do so without getting angry, okay? Learning takes time." He sighed, battling with conflicting emotions of irritation that his brother took so much more effort, and pleasure that he held that much more power when it came to who knew more. In either case, he was following Otomeza back down the hall with little delay, and was even the first to enter back into the room.
"You ge' angry way too easy, En," Iridian noted, concern crossing his face with a touch of his own exasperation. He stood in the middle of the room, but took an awkward step backward when China entered the room with an air of unfamiliar energy. Of which the teal-haired boy tried to cover by redistributing his center of gravity with a more bracing stance.
Otomeza remained in the doorway, worried as to the level the fight previous had escalated. Iridian was scared of something, even though he had tried not to let it show. A mother's intuition was rarely wrong. But Cheyenne took her advice to heart, though activating it in himself was more difficult than he had anticipated. When he spoke, it was an even statement, "You can or you can't, Riddy. Which is it?"
Iridian's posture was still defensive, but his head leaned to the side in confusion. His bangs obscured view from his already sightless eye. "You still on abou' tha'?" he asked, hesitant.
His voice was strained as his throat tensed, trying to keep his anger in check. "Answer me," China stated flatly.
Riddy's eyes flicked to Otomeza, who in turn nodded to the child. She wasn't going to let anything happen while she was on watch, but she still needed him to answer. Iridian carefully fixed his eyes back on his brother and responded, "I can'."
"You can?"
"No!" It was rare that Iridian was upset, but his fear and aggravation was bleeding into his demeanor. It was all he could muster to say as a retort, knowing that if he repeated himself, he'd be faced with the same response in turn. It was a stalemate.
It was a stalemate that Otomeza was determined to break, that is. "Riddy, hon, relax," she crooned, hands held up as if she could place them on his shoulders to placate his tightly-coiled body. He attempted to listen with a slow breath, torn tail lowering with fatigue. After some of the tension died down, she interjected further, "You mean you can't, right?"
"Tha's wha' I said," he whimpered, hiding the defeat in his voice with a grumble and a half-hearted motion of a hand to the head.
"You said you can, not that you can't," Cheyenne explained, a surprising amount of patience now weaving into his words. He was into his part as teacher, now that Otomeza had pointed them toward the road to diffusing the situation as mediator. There was almost no more sign of the venom he had shown but moments prior, soundlessly acting on a twisting fear of his own with grace. He offered a barely discernible smirk to his brother before he instructed, "Now say it with me: I can't."
Iridian frowned, intimidation no longer registering as he was able to pick out the glance Cheyenne had given him. There was only one reason for it -- to egg the scaled kid on, as if he didn't really believe if Iridian could do it right. He knew better than that, but it had worked nonetheless. "I can-- I can-tuh, okay!?" he shouted, placing far more emphasis than was needed in his misplaced anger.
"It's only okay if you actually say the T on the end, otherwise you're lying," Cheyenne pointed out. He knew he didn't have to go so far at this point, but if he was going to drive it into Iridian's head that he needed to keep the T's at the ends of words, he was going to have to tick him off enough to not want to go through all this again. A flick of the wings, and Cheyenne continued to poke at him, "Now can you say it right?"
Even in the artificial light of the room, the fluorescence of Iridian's blue eye was visibly pulsing in tune with the increased blood flow beating at his head. He couldn't remember ever being so furious, and in time would explicitly avoid ever getting so angry again. "I CAN'T!" his voice was as loud as he could pull out of himself, his body trembling.
It was in these moments that Otomeza finally pinpointed what it was that had unnerved Iridian so deeply. In the wall above the normally-cheery boy's bed, a deep gouge had been torn in the surface and a scattered deck of cards garnished the strewn quilt on top. It would be about shoulder-level to the child if he was sitting on the mattress.
And it was about the length of Cheyenne's barb.
[[ Word Count: 1,640 ]] |
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Posted: Sun Aug 28, 2011 2:01 pm
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Posted: Sun Aug 28, 2011 2:01 pm
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