Sitting on his bed, and staring at him with seething hatred in its beady eyes, was his father’s corrividus. Its markings glowed faintly as it turned its head, then its body, and revealed the package that had been fastened to its back. Obviously his father hadn’t trusted the bird not to drop it in a ditch somewhere and return home without ever seeing him. Honestly, he would have preferred it that way – he hated the bird about as much as it hated him.
He untied the package with nimble fingers, narrowly avoiding getting them pecked off at the knuckle. As soon as it was off, the corrividus cawed loudly in his face, startling him, and hopped over to the window expectantly. “Uh uh,” Rikki responded. “Not yet. I don’t know what in this thing.” He tore the paper carefully and shook the contents into the palm of his hand – a piece of paper about the size and shape of a business card, and something blue. He flipped the card to read it and saw his mother’s familiar scrawl.
We thought of you.
“Well, that’s a first,” he snorted, turning his attention to the blue thing. He ran his stand fingers across it, feeling the silky blue fur it seemed to be made of. All tied together with some string and feathers. It was soft, but if his parents had taken an interest in it, he didn’t trust it. Why would they suddenly get the urge to send him a gift? What could he possibly want with their charity, and what did they want in return? No, he did not trust it at all.
He looked up at the corrividus with a blank expression. “Take it back. Tell them I don’t need their gifts.” He held out the fur to the bird, and it looked at him for a second before squawking loudly again. It obviously would not have orders from him, so Nyyrikki took the ripped package, wrapped the fur in it, and took up the string. “You’re going to take it back whether you like it or not.” The bird caw, hopped in place nervously, and dodged in a flurry of feathers as Nyyrikki tried to pounce it. He ended up trying to balance himself against his desk to keep from falling over as the bird sat on the door to his closet, staring at him. “Stupid bird.”
He threw open his window and the corrividus was gone before he could tell it to get the jack out. He’d just be stuck with the damn thing, whatever it was. It made a soft thud at the bottom of his trashcan as he padded back to his bed and sat down. Why would his parents send him something? They couldn’t have just “thought of him” like they said they did. They never just “thought of him.” That was implying they actually cared, which they didn’t. Were they trying to save face with the rest of the reaper community? Brag that they’d sent their son a gift while he was away at a high end school? That was more like them.
He leaned back against his worn comforter and sighed. How many nights had they dressed him up and tried to make him presentable for some community get together? More often than he could count. He had yet to learn to walk when they began bragging about him. And the older he got, and the less he lived up to their dreams, the less time he spent at those parties. The less they bragged and gave proud smiles in his direction. The more they began to ignore, and shove him away. They didn’t want anything to do with him if he wasn’t going to be the perfect definition of a grim.
Before he was sure of what he was doing, he’d retrieved the fur from the trashcan and retrieved to the corner of his bed, pressing his back into the space where his walls met. It’s silky fur clung to his fingers, and it was cool to the touch, which he hadn’t felt before. The feathers fluttered in the breeze of his breath and tickled his palm playfully. He blew on them and smiled as they whirled in the stronger current of air.
He fell asleep in that corner of his bed, curled up and clutching the small patch of blue fur in his stained hand.
