Work Text:
Syden was laying on his bed, sketching the day away, as he often did on lazy days when there was nowhere to go and nothing particularly pressing to attend to. School was out on this day, and he had not been called in to work. So here he was, enjoying his freedom, and the peace, and the silence of a quiet afternoon on which he had the house mostly to himself.
There was nothing in the world to break the comfortable stillness. The sheets were tossed to the side, and he sat with his knees up, his sketch pad propped against his legs, hand moving intuitively over the white paper as he made his strokes meditatively.
He was so absorbed in his task that he didn’t notice when she came home, until she knocked on his door, which had been left open and half ajar. He looked up from his sketch pad, and observed her for a moment. She was just returned from her outing with his sister Kate, and was dressed in her town clothing, which included a pretty sun hat over her long hair.
“Hello,” he said in greeting.
She stood at the doorway, surveying his room. It was difficult to read her face, until she ventured to speak her mind.
“That’s quite a mess,” she commented in a quiet tone, and he assumed she must be referring to the charcoal flakes which dusted the floor, along with some balled-up parchment.
“Oh, don’t worry. The maids will clean it all up before nightfall…” he said quickly.
“And you’re going to leave it until then?” she asked, pursing her lips slightly.
“Yes.”
There was a moment of silence, then suddenly it was broken by a little black ball darting out from under his bed.
It was their kitten, Obsidian. He appeared to be chasing something. It was a grey blur as it ran ahead of him, and he scurried after it. The two creatures were engaged in an intense chase until suddenly, before either he or Cela could blink, Obsidian leapt forward and pinned the grey thing to the ground.
And just like that, it was over. The kitten had it trapped between its paws, with his head bent over it, and when he raised his head again, the mouse was clenched in his jaws, now a lifeless mound of grey fur.
There was a small gasp. Syden glanced over at Cela and saw that her face was blanched.
He spoke before he could stop himself.
“Finally,” he said. “He’s been playing with that thing since morning.”
Cela gave him a look like she couldn’t believe what he was saying.
“You’ve been watching him the whole time? And you didn’t stop him?” she asked slowly.
Syden sat up straighter, and lay his drawing parchments beside himself on the bed.
“He’s a cat,” he said flatly. “It’s what cats do.”
Cela did not seem satisfied with that answer. On the contrary, her eyebrows furrowed slightly, and though she didn’t raise her voice, he could tell she was upset.
“You were supposed to stop him if you ever saw him doing it,” she said softly. “I don’t expect you to do it all the time. But when it happens right in front of you…”
“He was just hungry.”
“He gets plenty of food from our plates. He doesn’t need to kill for his food.”
“He was too fast for me to stop him,” he said, and it was probably true. The way that thing darted around, attempting to catch him would be like trying to catch a bloody hummingbird.
She seemed to doubt that answer most of all. “You’re fast enough when you want to be,” she said stiffly.
In the midst of this conversation, the kitten came towards the threshold, carrying his prey in his small mouth. He stopped near the opening and gently dropped the mouse carcass onto the ground, right in front Cela’s feet.
As was typical with Cela, in the rare times she got mad, she didn’t scream about it. She simply got very, very quiet, bent over the mouse and picked it up delicately, then crossed his room towards hers. She entered her room silently as a ghost, and closed the door gently behind her. Syden stayed where he was.
Shit. She’s really mad…
He got up out of the bed, walked over to her room door, then stopped, thinking better of it.
It was hard to avoid each other when your rooms were right next to each other, like a pair of conjoined twins. But he got the sense that she would rather be left alone just now.
What to do…what to do…
Syden stood around for a while, feeling restless. He glanced around his room, his eyes running over the blackwood wardrobe and dressers, the dark curtains, the bedsheets and bedframe. Everything in stark black. It certainly matched his mood at the moment.
The only light was that spilling in through the windows, like the rays of a white sun reaching out its holy fingers to sanctify the gloom.
He decided he would go outside to get a bit of that light directly. As she wouldn’t speak to him, there was no point in lingering.
On his way out, he saw the kitten standing in the corner looking a little morose, probably sensing his gesture wasn’t appreciated the way he meant it to be.
“Yea, you should be sorry,” said Syden, glancing down at him. “This is your fault.”
He brushed past the kitten and headed down, then out into the garden.
There he wandered among the aisles with no particular aim, flanked by blooming, carefully-trimmed hedges. He passed the fountain with its cascading waters, glinting like diamonds where the sunlight bounced off it. There was a path less frequently travelled, which he took without realizing it, until it wound to a stop at a familiar spot.
It was a small plot of land still within the garden, nestled in one corner, between some flowering bushes and light patches of grass. A miniature graveyard of sorts, meant for small pets. He could still make out the tiny, weather-worn headstones. Kate had begun it. It was open to the whole family, though Kate and him had been the ones to make the most use of it.
He stared at it for a few moments, contemplating the inscriptions, before wandering back up the paths in search of a good spot to rest.
From a seat on a bench, he watched two birds flitting around on the branches of an olive tree, a male and a female, likely a courting couple. They danced around each other flirtatiously, chirruping in their singsong voices.
“Oh, stop showing off,” he said, taking up a little stone from the ground and tossing it at them, causing them to scatter.
_
It was early evening by the time he headed back upstairs. As he hadn’t seen or heard her coming down, he assumed that she was still shut up in her room.
Upon re-entering his own room, he noticed the floor had been swept, and the crumpled parchment disposed of. His bed was also rearranged, the sheets stretched smoothly over the mattress, the pillows puffed up.
He glanced at the glass-paneled doors overlooking the balcony. Even when the doors were shut, he could still vaguely hear the birds singing outside, though all was dead silent in his abode.
His walk in the garden had given him an idea. He approached his dressers, going through his drawers with a methodical focus, until his attention was caught by a small object inside one of them.
He reached inside, and picked it up. It was a little box, lightweight and made of wood, and beautifully carved. He did not make these himself (he bought them from the market), but he liked to finish them by painting them in simple inky designs and stuffing them inside with dried flowers and moss. He had used these boxes on other occasions, for his own pets, reserved for the favorites.
Today, he thought he would get some fresh flowers.
He took the box and went back out into the garden.
He walked back down the cobbled paths, stopping whenever he saw some smaller flowers, each the size of a fingertip. He crouched by the clusters and picked them mindfully, taking his time carefully lining the sides of the box with them. When he went back into the house, he sat at his desk, painting the wood with special symbols, using black ink and a paint brush. He kept the designs simple, so that it didn’t overshadow the beauty of the plain wood.
He was studious as ever in his preparations, but on this day, he took extra care with every step. To finish it off, he put in some dried flowers from his private stash (which he had collected from the woods on different occasions) among the fresh ones, so that it contained a little bit of both.
Then he set it aside to sit and dry, while he rested in the chair. Obsidian came to him and jumped up onto his lap, and he petted him. The kitten looked sorry enough, and, after all, they were both in the same predicament, barred from her good graces. Although he had a feeling that the kitten was likely to be forgiven sooner than him at the moment.
Syden remained sitting for a little longer, listening to some music and daydreaming, while he waited for the ink to dry.
All was silence on the other side, and he wondered if she was still even there. When he noticed the evening light begin to morph into a warm amber glow outside, he decided it was time.
He moved to get up. The kitten jumped out of his lap onto the floor.
He took up the box, examining it in the light, then walked over to the door that connected (but currently felt more like separated) their rooms.
He knocked on the door, and stood waiting.
Not too long after, she opened it. For a moment, he simply stood staring dumbly at her.
He wasn’t sure if she was still sad. It was difficult to tell her moods by her expression sometimes. She only appeared pale and quiet, not furious at least.
“Hello… this is for you,” he said, offering her the wooden box.
Cela looked at it, then took it gingerly from his outstretched hand.
She seemed to know what it was without him having to tell her, having recognized it from observing his past rituals.
A gentle warmth seemed to touch her face, in the form of a very subtle pinkish hue that spread over her cheeks as they stood in the threshold, facing each other. He reached up and pushed his hair out of the way, as he withstood the silence, waiting for her to say something. But she didn’t speak.
Instead, she stepped towards him almost uncertainly, and stopped, their faces lingering inches from each other, the coffin held between them. She reached up with one hand on his shoulder and pulled him down towards her, leaning forward. A little closer, and then…
He was caught off guard when her lips grazed his. But he leaned into the movement, unrestrained.
It seemed she had accepted his gesture. And he finally felt a return of the peaceful mood that had started his day. There was no more need for words.
The kiss was long and deep, and it went on until he felt flutters in his stomach. He leaned into it eagerly, never wanting it to stop, the blood in his veins catching on a slow fire as she set it aflame.