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Albert gazes up, above him is an endless sea of concentrated blue. As if having learned from the example made of the shot down birds, the clouds have shied away, steering clear of the Stonemoor prison. Making him squint and look away is the sun, unafraid and standing clear in the sky. Its radiance has nothing to fear, as what good would their guns be on a target you cannot look at to aim? Freedom has its protections, and so stands fearlessly and shines with pride in the sky. For the sun, taking its autonomy for granted is a daily occurrence, displaying the joy and vibrancy of such a privilege without a single thought over their heads. Despite its attractive shine, the sun never seems to feel worried over whether or not a magpie will try and pluck it from the sky like a feather, and take its daylight for its own. Why would it do so, when the only part of the sun reachable to humankind is the beams of light it gives us? Even with Albert’s talent it’s still unreachable! He doesn’t know whether the sun is simply oblivious to the lack of liberty that exists right under its nose, or if it snickers down at him with an arrogant snark.
Nearby him, Albert’s pulled out of his thoughts by a frightened scream. And suddenly, the emotions of the young child it came from overwhelmed him as if he’d been thrown into a brick wall. He experiences it all before he sees her, the fear and irritation at the sound of a gunshot are at the forefront of it, along with the confusion, questions of what they’d just done to the animal and why. The poor child’s anger for the small bird, and at the guards and their guns, he saw it all only afterwards. Having fallen, landing right next to a grey wall, a magpie lay dead on the grass. The creature was so small, it could have hid behind the emerald blades. Just like that, bang! And the bird was gone. It was louder than anything that young girl had ever heard, and despite only being twelve years old himself, he’d seen enough birds fall from the sky to not be so scared. Quickly, he rushed to the side of the little girl, who was about half his own age and kneeled down to her level. She was perhaps about five or six.
“Hey, don’t worry. It’s okay, you don’t need to be scared!—“
“No! They shot it, they hurt the birdie! It’s hurting, the birdie’s hurting!” The poor child yells, cutting him off, a small finger pointing towards where the dead soul lay. Its feathers shone, painted a partial iridescent blue that sparkled like they were each made of magic. A source of whimsy that had been cut, and would soon slowly fade out within a few hours. In an attempt to help calm her down, the boy strokes her head, carefully so as not to get his nails caught in her two braids.
“The bird’s not hurting anymore, okay? I know it’s bad that they shot the bird, but the bird isn’t alive anymore. So don’t worry…” A young Albert does his best to reassure, welcoming it as the small child clings to him. He brings her in for a hug, allowing her to sniffle and sob against the shoulder of his T-shirt. Which was definitely a good decision, he noted, as it prevented the small girl from watching as the lifeless magpie was simply thrown over the stone wall of Stonemoor, dirtying the beauty that countless books had told him were outside.
All the while, the sun happily shone over their heads. He’d have thought it just never noticed them if it didn’t seem to watch. Despite its quiet nature, the warm gaze of the sun washes over him, the little girl and even the remains of the bird. The sun’s presence is known at all hours of the day, only resting between the evening and throughout nightfall. Of course, the blazing ball knows that its light shines on the plumage of a creature that will never sparkle with life again, the sun comes around every day personally and watches! A silent friend, illuminating the world every morning as an invitation for all to come outside. It’s the friend that beckons the world to live their day-to-day lives.
Albert thinks it’s hard to want to say no when the daylight asks for his company. After all, it’s not as if anyone else has kept him busy before. But that’s the thing about befores, they’re in the past. It’s what comes after the before that matters, and what came after for Albert: was anything but solitude.
☪︎ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂
Sitting beside Ettie and Joe at a table, he watches amused as it seems Sal across from him knows every cheat at blackjack imaginable. It involves a lot of maths, and assigning values to certain cards with a plus one, zero, or negative one. Despite being able to read her mind, Albert’s honestly not sure he’s capable of following most of it. So it’s not as if he's even learning much by watching, and even Scarlett can see the confusion on his face and deduct what he’s sieving. For once, she was being the dealer instead of a player and also isn’t drunk while they’re playing.
“Alright, Joe. Hit or stand?” Scarlett asks, and by the expression on his face Joe’s cards must more or less be rather lacklustre currently. Albert looks, remembering that there isn’t much point in not looking when he isn’t even playing, and quite quickly confirms this theory.
“Hit.” He says, and Scarlett places a card with the intricate red-back facing up. Albert watched as she moved on to Sal, and would have completely missed it if a little blonde toddler, barely bigger than a bunny rabbit, hadn’t started tugging on his sleeve. He looks down, smiling as his eyes follow where the giggling child was pointing to. As if he thought himself a master of sleight of hand, pulled out another card from under his sleeve and placed it over the other. Knowingly, the two of them grinned, and he sat there watching with the three year old like he was her peer, as Joe oh, so ‘inconspicuously’ checked his cards and decided whether or not the one he’d saved or the one he’d been given was the most preferable. His first card had been a three, he had saved an ace, which could get him up to fourteen, and his given card from the hit was a queen. In the end, he used the card he’d hidden, quickly stuffing the queen with a value of ten up his sleeve. By now, even Albert was starting to giggle, and Joe simply sighed as it became clear that the two spectators saw. For Joe’s sake, Albert shushed Ettie with a quiet finger to the lips, only for it to be in vain anyways as Sal declares,
“Blackjack! Ha! I knew I’d be the winner, come on, hand over the tenner, Joe!” Joe in turn begrudgingly hands over the coral coloured note. Well, it certainly seems like Sal’s card counting had worked out for her, or at the very least Lady Luck had given the old woman her smile.
Just outside the window, the rain was beating down on the window panes as the sun persevered in the sky regardless, remaining free of the oppression of clouds. It’d been just a night after they broke into the Faith House bank in Colchester, and they’d needed rest. Even considering the state outdoors, with the rain thrumming against the glass, the rainbow would normally be enough to invite him outdoors anyways. But for now, he was sure in his decision of saying no to the sun. He couldn’t muster up the desire to accompany the golden star in the sky for today, as he already had plans for his evening, clearly.