(Listen to your instincts Ky he's a sucker for any gift)
"Good idea. Now go to bed." He bent down awkwardly and began to dig.
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
( D’awww — imagining the last thing a kid seeing as they get snatched out of their window and devoured is a friendship bracelet with ‘K + M’ carved in it xD)
“Okay.” Ky watched him for a moment, considering offering to help him, but she wasn’t sure if that would make it worse or better. It was obvious that it’d be much easier for her to do it and much faster, but she’d learned long ago that man-pride was fragile and easily bruised — especially when a girl offered to help — and she didn’t want to upset him by offering to help.
So, instead, she started digging her own tent out as well. “Good night.”
"u and rina are systematically watering down the grammar of yws" - Atticus "From the fish mother to the fish death god." - lehmanf "A fish stole my identity. I blame shady" - Omni [they/he]
(If the Marrow Man actively tries to eat children after this encounter I would be shocked)
"Goodnight." Gaius dipped his head and glanced at her, wondering if her arm was still sore and if she needed help digging out the tent. But his own leg was hurting as it always did and she seemed to be doing just fine. He uncovered the hatch and lowered himself into the warmth of the tent, curling back up beside his family. None of them stirred, thankfully.
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
(Omg! Ky: ‘idk how to make bad men like Aleth grow a conscience’ Also Ky: I will single-handedly reform the behavior of a 700 year old monster by giving him a bracelet and fixing his boo boo)
Ky made it into her tent about as fast as Gaius got into his. She entered as fast as she could to keep as much cold air out as possible. Tadaaki jerked, head snapping towards her, eyes wide.
“It’s me,” she whispered. “Sorry.”
He let out a deep breath and relaxed. “It’s late.”
“That’s why I need to sleep,” she murmured, hoping that kept him from asking too many questions. Tadaaki insisted on sleeping nearest the door of the tent where it was coldest, despite her best efforts to convince him to alternate with her. But he wouldn’t. Instead he slept nearest the door, with Aashi next to him, and Tasia in her arms, with Ky on the other side. Ky tended to thrash less during her nightmares.
But tonight; since she wasn’t there to hem in body heat from the other side, that had Tasia in the middle of them. Ky walked to her place at the back of the tent and took her cloak off and then crawled into her bedroll and tried to make her brain turn off enough to fall asleep.
"u and rina are systematically watering down the grammar of yws" - Atticus "From the fish mother to the fish death god." - lehmanf "A fish stole my identity. I blame shady" - Omni [they/he]
(Sometimes it's the little things that make the difference)
(Wanna skip?)
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
(Yep! I’ve got nothing else. Where to? The gift exchange, or do you have something for between now and then?) (Also lol now that I wrote ‘gift exchange’ it’s reminding me of the adoption and wow this is a change xDDD)
"u and rina are systematically watering down the grammar of yws" - Atticus "From the fish mother to the fish death god." - lehmanf "A fish stole my identity. I blame shady" - Omni [they/he]
(XD it is a bit of an adoption as well, isn't it? I'm down to skip there.)
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
True to her word, Ky’s behavior improved. She was still as sad and scared as before, but she actively refused to pout about it this time, and she forced herself to eat a healthy amount at every single meal, regardless of if she wanted it or not. She’d also made her apologies to Zander, Tadaaki and Aaashi, and Sara — all of whom graciously forgave her and assured her they understood she was going through a lot. She tried to look for an opportunity to apologize to Lyra as well, but somehow couldn’t quite manage to catch her for long enough to do so.
She also, finally, had something to look forward to: her reunion with Mark. She hadn’t come up with a better idea than a bracelet. She contemplated drawing something for him or writing him a poem, but she didn’t know if he could read, and she doubted having a piece of parchment with him was realistic, and she didn’t want to make him sadder by giving him a gift that was so easily ruined.
So she diligently spent her time weaving and re-weaving little strands of leather into a friendship bracelet. It was as intricate as she knew how to make it — 6 strips weaved into one another tightly enough it’d make Papa proud to see her handiwork. She’d certainly picked up her skills from him and it seemed fitting to use them to console a different father of sorts, this time one that had lost his own son rather than someone who lost a father as she had.
At the end of day 5 she stayed up later than the rest, buzzing with nervous anticipation that she denied when Zander called her on it. Finally, as it began to grow late, she stacked up four poultices and bandages to wrap them near the hatch of her tent, and put the friendship bracelet on top, then crawled in her tent and listened as hard as she could for even the hint of the crunch of snow of anyone approaching. She wasn’t going to sleep until she’d heard from him. Or until the sun rose, if he’d been lying to her and wasn’t going to come after all. But she didn’t want to believe that. She wanted to believe that he would keep his promise and that she’d be awake to talk to him once he did.
"u and rina are systematically watering down the grammar of yws" - Atticus "From the fish mother to the fish death god." - lehmanf "A fish stole my identity. I blame shady" - Omni [they/he]
Gaius, too, was wide awake with nervous energy. His family was fast asleep but he sat near the hatch, head resting against the tough leather and fur to see if he could hear anything. He still wasn't convinced he would, but Ky had laid out the poultices and the bracelet, so she seemed to fully believe the Marrow Man existed and was going to come to the camp tonight. Gaius had seen to it the fires were put out so he could enter--was that how it worked? Did the fires keep him away?--and so the entire camp was shrouded in darkness. Gaius drifted off once or twice into fitful sleep and woke every time a twig snapped or an owl hooted. Shortly after midnight he was ready to call it a night and chalk it up to Ky having a vivid imagination when a new sound came. Heavy, uneven footfalls plodded to the edge of camp and stopped, and Gaius heard the sniffing of some large animal around the edge ahead of his tent. There was a pause, then, and the footsteps limped toward the smoldering remains of the campfire. More sniffing, and he heard the creature move toward Ky's tent and stop near the entrance. A thrill shot through Gaius, and he shivered involuntarily. His heart pounded and he sat up quietly, not daring to breathe as he strained his ears through the muffling of the snow and the tent. He felt like a little child caught halfway between terror and excitement--was this the Marrow Man?
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
Ky gasped slightly as she heard him approach. He came! She knew he would. She knew it. She pushed open the flap of the tent ever so slightly, careful to stay fully within the tent as she whispered. “Is that you?”
"u and rina are systematically watering down the grammar of yws" - Atticus "From the fish mother to the fish death god." - lehmanf "A fish stole my identity. I blame shady" - Omni [they/he]
The Marrow Man crouched down, examining first the poultices, then the bracelet. "I bring bear," he grated. "What this?"
Gaius stiffened against the tent. Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods. He wanted desperately to climb out of the hatch in the tent and see this thing, the Marrow Man, but he was also petrified. There was a walking nightmare outside, something adults used to scare children into staying in their beds. He was real, and he was talking to Ky.
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
“More medicine,” she whispered back. “And a bracelet I made for you. I don’t know if you like that sort of thing, so, sorry if not. But I thought if you were giving me a present I should give you one, too, to remember me by… but you don’t have to take it if you don’t want it. I don’t know if you like bracelets.”
"u and rina are systematically watering down the grammar of yws" - Atticus "From the fish mother to the fish death god." - lehmanf "A fish stole my identity. I blame shady" - Omni [they/he]
The Marrow Man was silent for a long time, rubbing the bracelet gently with his fingers. He tilted his head, then said, "present for me? To have? Is gift?"
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
“It’s a gift!” Ky agreed, smiling even though she knew he couldn’t see her since she was still in the tent. “Have you remembered your name yet?”
"u and rina are systematically watering down the grammar of yws" - Atticus "From the fish mother to the fish death god." - lehmanf "A fish stole my identity. I blame shady" - Omni [they/he]
The Marrow Man took a deep breath and let it out. "Start with "ruh" sound," he said, and his voice was trembling. "Ky Ruiarc, this gift. For gift and for one night kindness, I keep you safe until gods wake. Those men who want you, I keep them away from you. You sleep easy now." He set the bear hide down with a thump and slipped the bracelet over his wrist, admiring it with tears in his flat-pupiled eyes. "You too kind, Ky Ruiarc. Too kind to old monsters."
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
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