Work Text:
Shadia enters her Uncle Bolaire's office to find the desk strewn with paper cranes, the curator himself leaned back in his chair, gloved hands folding yet another of the little creatures.
"What's with all the paper cranes?" Shadia asks, sprawling into the guest chair across from him.
"A distraction for idle hands while I get a bit lost in thought," Bolaire breezily answers. "What can I do for you today, Shadia?"
"Dad asked me to run some of the paperwork for the next production over to you, so here I am," Shadia answers, presenting the folder from her bag with a flourish.
"Oh good. I was waiting on those," Bolaire agrees, setting aside the finished crane and sweeping even more aside to make room for the folder, which he begins to peruse.
"...So what are you going to do with all of these anyways?" Shadia asks, picking up a pair of cranes to compare.
The folds are crisp and clean, the white paper a light and thin affair, more like the flash paper the Rookery uses for performances than what's found in a notebook. The cranes are just the right size that their little paper wingspans don't exceed the width of her palm.
"Ah, well… that is…" Bolaire hesitates. And Shadia knows her non-blood uncle well enough to know that the way his eye lights flicker and dart with his black painted lips thinning is as close as the man with a mask for a face gets to blushing.
"I won't tell anyone, promise," Shadia encourages, because now she has to know. And crosses her fingers. If it's cute enough, she is absolutely sharing with dad and Hero and maybe Elodie.
Bolaire sighs, and the look he directs at her tells Shadia that her finger crossing is suspected. But he does answer.
"I came across a, well, I'd call it a legend, but really it's more of a folk belief? Anyways, it was a story, where if one folds a thousand paper cranes, they can have a wish granted. And while there's really no proof or actual magic to it, it's a good enough way to keep my hands busy."
Shadia looks down at the dozen or more cranes pushed to the side of his desk to make room for the papers she brought. Delicate little cranes full of hope. It's so cute. Dad and Hero and Elodie are definitely hearing about this.
"What are you going to wish for, Uncle Bolaire?" she whispers, like trying to coax Hero or Al into revealing their birthday candle wishes.
The soft grin she gets in return is so warm. "I have an idea or two in mind."
She levels an unimpressed look at her uncle when he doesn't elaborate beyond that. "C'mon, that's not a real answer."
Bolaire grabs a little square of paper from where the stack rests on his desk and starts folding another crane.
"...I was considering wishing for Hal's success in receiving the Dithyramb. It's always struck me as wrong that human nobles somehow have control over a piece of Rungjani history like that."
A soft smile graces Shadia's face. "And you think a human like you overseeing the Pariah Blades is different?" she pokes, just to see what he thinks.
"I've hardly the power to deny them to their rightful owners of the Lloy family," Bolaire demures. "They are under my protection and care, not my control."
Shadia nods. Technically, Bolaire could try to deny the Lloys if they wanted the Blades back. Pull strings to put the Archanade, and thus himself, in full ownership of them. But he wouldn't. The history isn't his to own. And the Dithyramb shouldn't, doesn't, belong to the Sundered Houses either.
As Bolaire reaches for another paper, Shadia snags one, ready to try following along with his next crane. He obligingly slows his folding pace without being asked.
"You said two ideas. What's the other one?" she asks, eyes on his hands. Her uncle doesn't say things he doesn't mean. At least, not if you're paying careful attention to the wording. He's absolutely the worst to get into semantics arguments with.
"Ah, that one is… more selfish. Which, the stories had the paper cranes given as gifts and wishes for others. So it probably wouldn't work even if this is somehow magical enough for a small wish," he attempts to redirect.
"Well maybe I'll make a thousand paper cranes to make the wish for you," Shadia counters, a grin of challenge on her lips. Actually, she might. Bolaire has done a lot for her family since he came into their lives. A mind for her dad to bounce off of for his writing, getting the whole Rookery troupe into the Lyceum to perform, even inspiring Hero to go to the Penteveral when she's old enough. He deserves a little wish for himself if he's going to spend the one he's working for on dad, and through him, the entire troupe.
Bolaire sighs with fond exasperation. "You won't let it go?"
"Nope," she pops the p. "Look, you do a lot for dad and the troupe already, so maybe we get to do something for you for once."
"You all put on wonderful shows which I enjoy very much," Bolaire counters.
Shadia pulls out the big guns. "C'moooon, don't you like your niece? I wanna do something nice for you."
"...I'd wish to find my siblings. Or even just a sign of one of them," Bolaire quietly confesses.
"You have siblings?" Shadia asks, focused on him now.
She didn't know this. She doesn't think even her dad knows this. Bolaire is so close-lipped about his past before Dol-Makjar. So Shadia will listen carefully to whatever he'll say.
"I'm one of six."
"Wow."
Shadia finds just Hero and Al to be more than enough siblings for her sanity. To have five siblings? She never would have guessed that of her uncle. He doesn't really act like he has (or more like had?) siblings.
"How long have you been looking?" Shadia gently asks, wary of pushing the wrong way.
"Since we were separated. We were very young and it's been decades since. I… I don't even really know them, but I want to find them. Does that even make sense?" Bolaire asks, sounding almost confused himself.
"Yeah, I think it does," Shadia answers, fiddling with her not-so-neat paper crane. "I mean, all the family on mom's side, all the Lloys, left for Dol-Rungja when I was little, so I don't know them, but I'd like to. They're family and I love them, even if I don't really know them beyond the vague memories of visiting with them as a little kid. And they could visit, but they don't. And I could visit, but I don't. So, kind of like that, yeah?"
"Maybe," Bolaire says, head bowed and mask curtained by his red curls, drawing the room into silence.
"...Can more than one person fold the set of a thousand? And do they all need to know the wish to make it work?" Shadia asks into the heavy silence.
"I believe you promised not to tell," Bolaire reminds her, but there's that tilt to his lips that says he might be teasing.
"If they don't have to know the wish, I'm not telling," Shadia points out. And if the wish does have to be known, Hero can keep a secret. Especially for her favorite uncle.
He eyes her suspiciously.
"Yes, groups can make the thousand cranes. It was not clear if knowing the wish to be granted was necessary for it to work, but only because the examples all knew, and lack of proof is not proof of absence."
Shadia nods. She may not be Hero, hanging on to every lecture and lesson, but Shadia can appreciate the clear explanation.
"Maybe I'll test not telling people what the wish is. Then you'll have your proof," Shadia lightly teases.
Bolaire just shakes his head fondly.
It's nearly three months later when a great mass of paper cranes on strings is left hanging on the door to Bolaire's apartment.
The note attached reads:
Good luck finding your siblings!
PS I told Hero and she helped. Sorry about the lie!
Bolaire just smiles fondly at the mass as he pulls it off his door so he can properly hang it inside his apartment. Some lies aren't so bad.