Young Writers Society

"Oh." Wick staggered, then dropped Marcella onto the ground. "Sorry, moppet!" He turned. "You're getting heavy!"
"I'm a lady," Marcella pouted, but she got to her feet unharmed. "Now I've got to find another hiding place!"
"May I recommend Uncle Tomhas? He's still got some arm strength, or so I'm told."

Ky smiled down at the little girl. “You better to quick. Mattathias said he knew you were trying to hide.”

Marcella gasped and sprinted away. "Uncle Tomhas! Uncle Tomhas!" Wick watched her go with a chuckle.

Ky grinned after her, then looked back at Wick. She was so much better with one-on-one conversations. It was less overwhelming. “So you’re a, uh, tailor?”

"I am." He nodded, drawing himself up and puffing out his chest slightly. "Been designing and manufacturing clothes for the past ten years! Was Anneke bragging about me?"

“They both were,” Ky said, smiling. “Tomhas said you make the most comfortable binders ever designed in all the North. And that you’re equally good at everything else, too.”

"Ahh." Wick grinned, face flushing with pride. "Well. That's very kind of him. Were you in need of binders? I'm afraid I haven't brought any with me but my own, or I'd give you a trial run."

“No, not anymore.” Ky shook her head and smiled at him, charmed by his reaction to the praise. Well, now she’d just opened a can of worms, hadn’t she? She bit back a sigh. She was starting to lose hope that she’d ever get good at talking about safe topics. “I had, a, uh… it used to not be particularly safe for me to admit I’m a girl,” she said carefully, but added quickly, “But it’s not, anymore! I get to be my real self here.”

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." Wick frown at her. "Wait, have I got it the wrong way around? Gods, I'm sorry, dear. Wait." He massaged his temples, staring hard at the snow. "No. Hang on. So you wouldn't need binders if I had got it wrong. But it wasn't safe for you to...ah, was it dangerous for other reasons, then?" His face flushed again, and he chuckled awkwardly. "Sorry, sorry. I get all muddled every now and again."

(I have a very specific and pleasant person pictured in my head for him but I can't for the life of me find the face. I'm trying to remember if it's an actor or someone from my actual life.)

(Aww he’s so endearing)

“No, you’re fine!” Ky said quickly, embarrassed that she’d embarrassed him. “I’m sorry I made this awkward. I’m a girl. I was born a girl. But I had to pretend to be a boy for a while, because, well, it was a bit of a mess. But I never was a boy, even when I looked like one. I’m a girl. You’ve got it the right away. Sorry.”

"Righto." Wick nodded his head for a few moments. "Righto, then. Sorry, sorry." He shoved his hands in his pockets and rose up on the balls of his feet. "Right. So. Did you know familial rites ceremonies usually involve the giving of gifts to the adopted party? And me having only one skill I was a bit at a loss of what to do--I wanted to make you some magnificent clothes but I've got no measurements, no information on style preferences or anything like that. So I said to Tomhas just now, I'd talk to you about it and offer a rain check of sorts. Any time you need a new outfit of any kind, I've got your back. Free of charge the first time, 50% family discount any other time. Sound alright to you?"

“Yes, sir! Thank you!” Was she supposed to sir him? This was all so very confusing. She hesitated, dread settling over here. “Wait, am I supposed to have presents for everyone? I didn’t know that. Oh no.”

"Oh, no no! You're not giving any gifts, just us. The uncles and aunts and the like. The children too--your siblings--if they're old enough. Think of it as a housewarming except it's a familywarming." He sighed. "Did nobody tell you that? Good gods. And please, just Wick or Uncle Wick will do; I'm not a sir to anyone but my apprentice!"

Ky nodded. Right. No sirring him, either, then. “No one mentioned it, no… perhaps they worried I’d feel guilty about not having gifts to give in return… because I kind of do.”

And there was nothing at all that she could do about that at this point. She didn’t have any money to buy anything. And she didn’t have time in the next two days to figure out what they might like as prints or something she’d be able to calligraphy.

"Well, you're not supposed to give gifts! That's our job, not yours. Your job is to sit back and soak in some affection, maybe smile and nod at some bad jokes, all those noble niceties."