Character: F!courier, various Legion, OCs Tags: Violence, noncon Summary: Couriers aren’t born old and mean. It takes a hard road to get them there. Series: Mean Old Woman Ready for another self-indulgent background piece? No? OK!
“What’s wrong with geckos?”
Ches fidgeted, turning his knife over in his hands. He stuck his lip out, muttering something about a “little dumb blue gecko.”
Lying prone in the grass next to him, Adal put her chin on her hand. “Sun’s shining, weather’s fine. I can wait all day, boyo.”
He frowned, looking very like her. His hair curled where hers was straight, maybe, and he freckled rather than tanned, but that little scowl was the mirror image of his ma. “Babies could skin geckos,” he said, with every ounce of wisdom he could muster.
“Hold on, now.” Adal tugged at the leather of her hood. “Calling your old lady a sissy?”
Mumble mumble “mebbe not fire geckos” mumble mumble.
“That’s right, you’re not.” She parted the grass with a hand. The geckos in the meadow below were still milling about, unaware of them. “No shame in it. They’re plentiful, we hunt ‘em all the time. Half of us hunters are wearing gecko hoods now.”
“I wanna night stalker.”
“Hey now,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “You better be able to back that one up, brave hunter. I’m not letting any son-of-mine go hunting night stalkers with a knife.” He avoided her eyes. “You’re young, my boy. You have another eight years, maybe, before you’re expected to do your Trial. I was that old, anyway. Don’t set your heart. We might not even be in night stalker territory then.”
Ches stared down at the knife, the handle made of a hooked antler, just like hers. She remembered leaving him in the deers’ territory earlier that year, returning to camp to wait for him to either prove himself a hunter or a disgrace. Two agonizing days ended with him returning, triumphant, and her near bursting with pride that her boy, her shadow, her little Ches was going to be as much a hunter as she.
She reached out to tuck a lick of hair behind his ear. “What’s bothering you, dearling?”
He scowled and scratched at it, making it stand up again. “They say I’m not really Walker because I’m a by-blow.”
“Wha—who says?” The geckos below jerked to attention.
“The others,” he said, peeling apart a bit of grass to not look at her. “Alam. ‘Cause my dad’s just some Circle Junction trader you don’t even know the name of and not a Walker man.”
“Oh, I’ll whip your brother’s feet,” she said, scowling. “No shame in it, Ches.”
“Say m’soft,” he mumbled. “Can’t keep up.”
“Only because you mope about it and drag along,” she said. “We’re small, us Walker, but that means a half-blood’s still miles ahead of any townie. Bit too small; you start marrying cousins if you don’t get new blood in sometimes, and you heard the tales about the people in Box Canyon.”
“Those are just scary stories,” he said.
“Oh, that they aren’t, boyo. I saw a man with his eyes where his ears ought to be,” she said, voice hushed.
“Don’t be silly, ma.”
“Arm growing out of his nose…” She touched the back of her wrist to her face and wriggled her fingers.
Ches giggled, then tried to frown. “I mean it, ma,” he said. “I gotta prove I can.”
“You’re set on this?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, solemn.
“I teach you how, you’ll listen and heed me, no matter what I say?”
“Yup.”
“Even if it’s no?”
He stuck his tongue out. “Sure.”
Adal smiled. She reached out to tousle his hair. “We’ll bag you a night stalker.”
He sat up, eyes going bright. “Really?”
“Really truly,” she said, nodding. “We’re walking to Crossroads, boyo. I might die of pride to see you lined up with the other new hunters, young as you are and in a skin like that. I can teach you tricks to sneak up on them.” She pointed down into the meadow. “But we start with geckos. You can walk in the middle of a pack and not upset them, it’s near the same trick you use on night stalkers. Learn to cut one out, isolate it. You kill one where the others see, the rest want your blood, and you ain’t walking out alive. Hear me, my boy?”
He nodded like his head was on springs. She smiled. “It’s all in the eyes. Animals don’t like being stared at, right…”
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timeasmymeasure
Crossroads (1/9)
Date: 2015-01-07 06:03 pm (UTC)Tags: Violence, noncon
Summary: Couriers aren’t born old and mean. It takes a hard road to get them there.
Series: Mean Old Woman
Ready for another self-indulgent background piece? No? OK!
“What’s wrong with geckos?”
Ches fidgeted, turning his knife over in his hands. He stuck his lip out, muttering something about a “little dumb blue gecko.”
Lying prone in the grass next to him, Adal put her chin on her hand. “Sun’s shining, weather’s fine. I can wait all day, boyo.”
He frowned, looking very like her. His hair curled where hers was straight, maybe, and he freckled rather than tanned, but that little scowl was the mirror image of his ma. “Babies could skin geckos,” he said, with every ounce of wisdom he could muster.
“Hold on, now.” Adal tugged at the leather of her hood. “Calling your old lady a sissy?”
Mumble mumble “mebbe not fire geckos” mumble mumble.
“That’s right, you’re not.” She parted the grass with a hand. The geckos in the meadow below were still milling about, unaware of them. “No shame in it. They’re plentiful, we hunt ‘em all the time. Half of us hunters are wearing gecko hoods now.”
“I wanna night stalker.”
“Hey now,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “You better be able to back that one up, brave hunter. I’m not letting any son-of-mine go hunting night stalkers with a knife.” He avoided her eyes. “You’re young, my boy. You have another eight years, maybe, before you’re expected to do your Trial. I was that old, anyway. Don’t set your heart. We might not even be in night stalker territory then.”
Ches stared down at the knife, the handle made of a hooked antler, just like hers. She remembered leaving him in the deers’ territory earlier that year, returning to camp to wait for him to either prove himself a hunter or a disgrace. Two agonizing days ended with him returning, triumphant, and her near bursting with pride that her boy, her shadow, her little Ches was going to be as much a hunter as she.
She reached out to tuck a lick of hair behind his ear. “What’s bothering you, dearling?”
He scowled and scratched at it, making it stand up again. “They say I’m not really Walker because I’m a by-blow.”
“Wha—who says?” The geckos below jerked to attention.
“The others,” he said, peeling apart a bit of grass to not look at her. “Alam. ‘Cause my dad’s just some Circle Junction trader you don’t even know the name of and not a Walker man.”
“Oh, I’ll whip your brother’s feet,” she said, scowling. “No shame in it, Ches.”
“Say m’soft,” he mumbled. “Can’t keep up.”
“Only because you mope about it and drag along,” she said. “We’re small, us Walker, but that means a half-blood’s still miles ahead of any townie. Bit too small; you start marrying cousins if you don’t get new blood in sometimes, and you heard the tales about the people in Box Canyon.”
“Those are just scary stories,” he said.
“Oh, that they aren’t, boyo. I saw a man with his eyes where his ears ought to be,” she said, voice hushed.
“Don’t be silly, ma.”
“Arm growing out of his nose…” She touched the back of her wrist to her face and wriggled her fingers.
Ches giggled, then tried to frown. “I mean it, ma,” he said. “I gotta prove I can.”
“You’re set on this?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, solemn.
“I teach you how, you’ll listen and heed me, no matter what I say?”
“Yup.”
“Even if it’s no?”
He stuck his tongue out. “Sure.”
Adal smiled. She reached out to tousle his hair. “We’ll bag you a night stalker.”
He sat up, eyes going bright. “Really?”
“Really truly,” she said, nodding. “We’re walking to Crossroads, boyo. I might die of pride to see you lined up with the other new hunters, young as you are and in a skin like that. I can teach you tricks to sneak up on them.” She pointed down into the meadow. “But we start with geckos. You can walk in the middle of a pack and not upset them, it’s near the same trick you use on night stalkers. Learn to cut one out, isolate it. You kill one where the others see, the rest want your blood, and you ain’t walking out alive. Hear me, my boy?”
He nodded like his head was on springs. She smiled. “It’s all in the eyes. Animals don’t like being stared at, right…”