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Neige didn’t think too much about his parents.
Well, of course, back then he did! He lacked any clear, concrete memories of them.
Growing up there might have been the occasional memory here and there, manifested as a fleeting dream. A hand, larger than his own, any kid would have thought that. It felt like talons, yet Neige could feel no claws.
That’s what he dwells upon when a crow lands next to him on a bench one day. It wasn’t too uncommon for the animals of the forest to visit him. Whether it be rabbits, squirrels, or deer. He’s never seen a crow, not around here, but he wasn’t one to kick out a guest. It would be rude.
Shelpie was sleeping again, and Neige didn’t want to wake him up. So, with a careful hand, he put his index finger to his lip, and the curious corvid complied.
But he had no time to dwell on the dreams any further. He had to maintain the cottage, look after the dwarves. And after he was recruited, finally able to land himself a school, a secure and stable home.
He rolls up his sleeves once morning of the next day arrives, and remembers that this type of day, according to the books and calendars, was supposed to be one of celebration.
For most of his life, he’s rolled up his sleeves. He put his foot down during days when the dwarves were being unruly. He taught himself how to cook and clean.
There’s so much to be done.
He smiles for the camera, and remembers how far he’s come. His eyes often close when he grins ear-to-ear, but they’ve told him it was endearing enough to appeal to his rising number of fans.
Natural talent doesn’t come so easily, he distinctly recalls a voice. Along with many other voices he’s heard before he, along with the dwarves, packed their things and had to say goodbye to the cottage for good. While he would miss it gravely, he couldn’t have felt any happier for his future.
With a charming smile and friendly personality, he was quick to become popular, the new ‘talk of the town.’ A rising actor who seemingly rose from nowhere.
Acting? Not necessarily. He found it a silly word when applying it to himself, for all he had to do was be Neige Leblanche.
Smiling came naturally, and so did the rolling of the sleeves, the business.
And now, the journey into stardom was just another case of doing just that. Rarely was it ever a time where Neige could keep to himself. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. Spending time to idle about, it usually did the opposite to ease his nerves, fretting over the time that could’ve been spent with the others, or maybe supporting those who could need it.
It’s a clear morning the next day. He brushes his hair, cleans his face. Already, he was starting to settle into a new routine. Spring, he tells himself. It’s going to be a good day.
“You write letters with a quill? How fancy!”
Neige tilted his head at the question. Thinking about it now, the clicking of pens was more common than that of the light scratching of the tip of a feather. The cottage didn’t necessarily have any writing utensils, so he remembered having to make do, while worrying what gel or dye that could wane from overuse of writing down on the closest thing to parchment.
With a soft smile, he laughs it off.
He knew there was a lot of work to be done, that hasn’t changed then and it hasn’t changed now.
“Good morning!” He smiles, with what little spare time he has, never one to waste it.
The boy before him stares at him, expression unreadable.
It was an older kid he occasionally gets to see. He’s an actor, like him. He’s beautiful. He’s talented. He commands the room whenever he walks by.
Neige’s schedule was packed all the time, so he couldn’t see him a lot. Neige was the first to wave him hello, and he learns that they were meant to be opposing roles.
It was in the middle of summertime as well. A season that most would associate with free time and relaxing, but Neige felt it was ironic that he barely got to see a fellow actor at all.
Neige barely gets to talk to him and he knew it was a shame. It was one of the first times he regretted being so busy. Maybe to clear just a little bit up for more than just a simple ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye.’
He’s always wanted to speak to a kindred spirit. Maybe someone who knew the business, if not more than he did. He was technically an upperclassman, after all.
And after the rehearsals he was able to participate in, after their first successful drama together, Neige knew that Vil Schoenheit was a wonderful actor.
And yet, they went their separate ways.
Because Neige was still ever so busy.
During Fall, Neige had the honor of starring in a role. An adaptation of a children’s novel. One that grossed in millions of thaumarks in such a short amount of time.
Everyone around the world saw it.
Everyone around the world loved it.
Many were brought to tears, and his face was plastered everywhere in the business.
His popularity skyrocketed more than ever.
He was popular with people of all ages, according to an article. Easy to follow, delivers a message that everyone can understand.
Described to be positively glowing, that even animals endear themselves to him.
He united everyone, in a way.
Neige wants to keep doing that.
The thaumarks never go to him, and many fans arrive to shake his hand or to offer papers to sign.
When he arrives home, in his new one of course, with the dwarves, they all celebrate together, making supper as they gather around the table. Then they’d make sure to work extra hard with the chores.
He closed his eyes and smiled as they made a toast.
He’s the last to fall asleep, and the first to wake up, answering a call on his phone from his manager, praising him for his success and all of the upcoming roles.
Neige dusts himself off and prepares for an upcoming rehearsal.
It was around.. Late into the winter when it happened.
Nighttime. An abnormally quiet nighttime. Even though he preferred to keep his life at home mostly separate from his time as an actor, the animals knew of everything. A squirrel or an owl would have been there to greet him as he and the dwarves strolled home. But there was not a sound around them other than the chatter of him and the dwarves.
Neige lightly taps at Toby for trying to pick at a scab; a habit he hasn’t really let go of since the cottage days. He listens to Dominic list off different genres of music prompted by Hop. Gran was quiet, and Neige already knew that troubled look on his face. He has to ask him about it when everyone gets settled in.
And suddenly, it felt like the wind shifted.
It felt like a bunch of animals gathered in one place, and it still felt quiet. He hears the occasional rustling of feathers, the distant calls of a murder of crows.
The dwarves, bless them all, quickly ran towards in front, an attempt to barricade him and what could be a threat.
Except..
It didn’t seem to be a threat.
At least not to him.
There’s a stranger that blocked the path between them and home.
Neige should find it unnerving. But he mostly felt confused, only taking one step back from the man covered head-to-toe in black and blue, along with the jingling of keys and silver accessories.
Even so, what drew Neige’s attention other than the unique getup was the hair, and then it drew to his striking, glowing eyes.
Slowly, gently, he gives him a polite bow, apologizing for the scare and begins to introduce himself.
Giant talons meet Neige’s own small and stubby hands.
Retracted claws, holding him with the tenderness as a father would do to their child.
Familiar, he would say, but not really.
Then, it would gently usher him along,
Gently taking him deep into the forest where nobody seems to be around.
The figure waves, and he clumsily mimics the motion back.
Neige could already feel all the tension released at once.
Gran is already asking questions, Dominic and Hop put their hands on his back, their best attempt at comfort. It brought him back to the tougher times, when Neige was busy working himself to the bone, the reassuring pats on the back. Snick, Timmy and Toby were torn between looking at him or the stranger, unsure of what to react to first. And finally, even Shelpie’s eyes were wide, jaw going slack, agape at the recent development.
The dwarves were reacting on his behalf. It was almost as rowdy during their first days together at the cottage. Almost nostalgic, Neige would have thought, if it weren’t for what’s happening before his eyes.
“It was you on the screen! I knew it to be true! You left the nest so suddenly and I– You weren’t there when I visited last!” The man puts his talons close to his face, letting out a strange cross between sobbing and wailing. And he didn’t know what to make of it.
“A–Are you alright?” Neige tries to offer help.
“I never knew a fledgling of mine could make it to stardom so quickly!”
‘So quickly’? Did that mean he was proud?
The dwarves looked at him in anticipation, waiting for his next call.
Everything and nothing came rushing into his mind at once. Frozen in place, mouth slightly open as the pieces rearranged and connected.
Neige looked right into the eyes of the stranger, clenching and unclenching his fist, and opened his mouth.
“..Ah.”
One beat, and another. The night remained the quietest as it had ever been. Not even a night owl or a songbird who may have overslept. Not even the rustling of bushes or the crickets that commonly littered the paths. Abnormal, he thought only for a moment. The sweet bluebirds and frolicking rabbits usually aided in their comfort whenever times felt a bit more rough than usual.
It was the only response he could think of.
Not really the type of reaction Neige himself was expecting either. No screaming, no tearful reunion, it was a long jump from any sort of grief right to acceptance. None of those cliches he would see in films and books.
He wasn’t sure what to feel. Was he supposed to be angry? That someone left him alone in a cottage in the middle of the woods for so long? It was already too late to do anything. He remembers never to feel any grudges, what type of role model would he be for his friends if he did?
And that was the problem, was it?
Neige raised himself to be responsible.
He was the one who rolled up his sleeves, dusted the old cottage and washed the floors. Whistling while he worked to forget about the aching and the fatigue. Neige was more than capable of taking care of himself, but he would rather look towards everyone else, giving them his hand before worrying about himself.
Neige raised himself to be fair.
He’s not a pushover. He’s taught himself to put his foot down, never let anyone talk him down. Settling everyone down before supper, because how else would he make it through a long day? He taught himself to turn down questions he didn’t want answered, as patiently as he could. Unwarranted unkindness is just uncalled for, after all. Kept his personal history to himself because he would rather occupy his fans with a happier side of himself.
Neige raised himself to be kind.
All of a sudden, before he knew it, Dominic and eventually the other dwarves assisted him during the house, with the chores. And when he quickly rose in popularity he always had them come with. They had dreams and goals of their own but what they wanted most of all was his dream. So it was a promise that they would all make it on their own, that they would support everyone and anyone who would say they can’t do it.
And–
He sees the crows’ talons again.
Neige hears the dwarves huddling together and whispering. He hears the name of his father being tossed around more than his own.
Neige can’t help but grin ear-to-ear, proud of how responsible they have all become.
The dwarves continue to give his long-lost father mixed looks, most of which were apprehension.
The boy deemed it better to take this elsewhere, lest more than the quiet of the night provide them company.
Neige remembers being told about a phenomenon. Whenever you sneeze during bright and sunny weather, with no pollen in sight, it was a sign that someone was talking about you from afar.
Now he wonders, what did it mean for a fae? The ones who value names as power?
He knew about them, he had to know the basics for the sake of the dwarves. Courtesy and manners were valued as well.
If he knew of his father’s name after he left the cottage, muttered it to himself, would he have showed up?
What did it mean for his own name?
Neige already invited his father inside. Hearing him mumble to himself about time and years.
He ushers to the dwarves as gently as he can; that he can handle this himself. They all looked hesitant, some were even glaring at his father. Ultimately, after a long debate, and ruffled feathers from his father, they relented.
So father tells him what he knows. ‘Catching up’ as he says.
He trails off into tangents, loud to quiet, quiet to loud. Neige was as attentive as he could be. Occasionally inquiring about drinks, or maybe a meal. Father was still a guest, after all.
“Ah yes..” He ponders, putting his gloves—his talons—to his chin. “It was.. 5? 6 years ago, since I’ve held you in my arms.”
He makes a strange gesture with his talons. Neige didn’t know what it meant, but he thinks father does it a lot.
“Your pinfeathers were just starting to grow in.” He tilts his head, as if nodding to himself assisted at recounting the memory. “You were just the happiest.”
He wasn’t being cruel. Neige didn’t really see it in him—in spite of Gran constantly nagging him for his lack of ‘understanding a judge of character’—There’s a look in his eyes. Distant. Recalling something pleasant that lingered around the head.
His talons lightly strummed against the table to a slight rhythm as he hummed to himself.
“But there’s just so much work to be done!”
Neige paused, feeling a pit in his stomach. He’d tilt his head from the feeling, and frowned at his father’s excuse.
“You’re.. busy?”
“Ah, yes, yes..” His father still continues to speak, like he’s trailing off. “I’ve been busy.. So, so very busy..”
His brows furrowed in worry. He’d know a thing or two about a packed schedule. So Neige can only reply with the only way he knew how to deal with it.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Anything.. you can.. Ah!” His mask brightens up, a sudden flip of the switch. “I haven’t had the time to teach you how to preen your feathers, did I?”
Huh?
“Um,” Neige blinked at the shift. “No, not at all.”
“Oh how won–” Father makes a strange choked noise, “Wait, I have not?” Again, his focus lies on his gloves, back to muttering once more.
Neige feels quite lost right now.
“W–well!” He clears his throat. “Seeing as how I am just.. so very kind, you’d have me to guide you for it!”
Oh!
“But didn’t you say you were busy–”
“FIRST!” He instructs. “You must do well with any type of glistening silver accessory.. Like a mirror..”
There are still so many questions Neige wants to ask about. His voice caught in his throat when he and father started to go their separate ways once more. The dwarves bombarding him with questions and concern once the unique presence of the crow was no longer felt.
Would father have the time? In spite of being a busy man?
How would he contact him again?
Why was he here?
Why hasn’t mother–
Neige splashes a bit of water on his face, returning him back to wonderland, and looks at his own reflection in the bathroom.
He remembers that today was not any different from any other day. He anticipated his manager might contact him soon, and had to make breakfast and make some time for school.
Not to mention, there were many of his fans waiting for him.
Neige smiles.
Pretending to roll up his already-rolled up sleeves, he departs.
There’s still so much work that needs to be done.