Home is Where The Heart Is [Miette]

[Anonymous]

The Quiet had been exiled from his home town, but it was relatively small village with in Connlaoth. Truth be told, he really should have avoided Connlaoth, but it was his home. Besides as far as he knew, the whole world was like Connlaoth. He didn't entertain thoughts of some far away land that might accept him for the freak that he was. How could he know? No one ever told him. There was no reason to travel to some far place land, when Reajh was right here.

As far as he was concerned, Connlaoth was his home. Connlaoth was the world. And this world was rotting. The cage had become much bigger, but he still felt the same as when he was in the cell his parent's basement. He was hated, feared, and completely alone. The only difference was that there were people around him now.

Even surrounded with all these people he was all alone. The people on streets paid little attention to the young boy, as they went to and fro on their busy way. His yellow eye was mostly hidden by his long bangs, and his horn was hidden under a large white bandage that he affixed in place over it. He was not injured, but he couldn't walk these streets with his horn just hanging out.

And he needed to walk these streets. He wasn't suited for living out in the woods. He always imagined he would try to catch his own food once he escaped his cage, however he was never strong enough to escape on his own. And so it made sense that he was unable to hunt on his own. He simply did not have the skills to catch anything.

He had survived on berries and other fruit, but by now it was getting difficult to find those. He needed a source of food, but he lacked the skills to steal them as well.

Finally, fatigued and hungry, Quiet came to a stop. He moved into a dark and dirty alley and sat down. The alley suited him, and no one who walked by seemed to notice the dirty child sitting in the dirty alley.

With his weary eyes he looked up past the people walking by, across the street. There were a few stands, selling apples, bread, and other things. So much food in that market, and yet he was sitting here starving. Well what could he do? This was his world. This was his home. This was his life.

He closed his eyes and hung his head in despair. After a short rest, once he had regained his strength, he would steal some food to survive.

[Anonymous]

A lithe form wound through the crowd that bustled and shook as if pulsing in response to her movements, a disturbance like a fly landing on their shoulders. The street she navigated, warmly lit by the lowering sun as it neared dinnertime, was just off one end of the large market square and the busy people in their bumbling bubbles of need and want seemed to bounce off the walls of the tall stone buildings that sternly corralled them into a steady stream. Few footfalls could be found in the niches and narrow alleyways where the light was staved off by the height of these structures imposed one upon the other, given a harsher outline and statelier disposition by the setting sun.

Miette, apparently a little flustered by both hunger and the significantly slower pace required of her in Connlaoth, wondered at these normally cheerful Mediterranean edifices and their fair-weather friend attitudes. They reminded her quite distinctly of their builders, inhabitants, and future inheritors, but then again, the people of Connlaoth had never settled well with her. For one so determinately non-confrontational as the pale young woman, the entire atmosphere of Connlaoth seemed rife with potential danger. The entire kingdom, no matter how far she traveled in one direction or the other, seemed to have two faces between its beautiful and amiable exterior and its nasty habit and history of oppression, destruction, and concealment. However, what disagreed with her the most was how easily it switched between them. The extra effort she had to make to conceal her species - even as a changeling, a fae child who couldn't control or set to focus any inherent magic if her life depended upon it - grated on her nerves. She was always conscious of the nearly inaudible clink of the miniature bottles of scent-masking liquid in the pouch slung securely over her shoulder; always wide-eyed (more so than usual); always breathing a little shorter and reigning in her curiosity with a bit more caution.

She wedged her way through the stream of happily ignorant denizens to greet a cart marked with a large sign whereon there was illustrated in lustrous pink paint a plump, season perfect strawberry. Her face was alight with hunger as she fumbled in her little satchel for a single thick coin she'd saved from her last minor delivery for just this occasion. She'd had her head in the bushes, so to speak, since breakfast. So, naturally, when the coin slipped from her slender fingers with an accidental, eager flick of the wrist and rolled quickly and quietly into the adjacent alley as if at last launching an elaborate escape plot, her face fell completely with a weak objectionary "ehh..." The cart's clerk impatiently waved her aside as she flitted into the grimy pathway, following the faint glint of the metal as it rolled past the urban debris that littered the crevice here and there into the far corner of the alley where it settled at the feet of a boy who sat with his head hung as if one of the cracks in the pavement looked particularly interesting.

A boy, she thought with some measure of reserve. The pink tip of Miette's tongue popped out at the corner of her mouth as she crept forward, large grey eyes readjusting, perusing the dim form before her, each look returning to what she already permanently considered her strawberries incarnate in metal. This had been a rather unlucky day.

At least of one thing she was certain: nothing much unexpected ever happened in Connlaoth.

[Anonymous]

The Quiet, was just about to doze off into sleep, when the sharp chime, of a coin hitting the pavement, rang out. He listened to the distinct pitter-patter of the coin as it rolled along the floor, growing slightly louder. A clear sign that it was coming closer. The alley, with the busy street so close by, was by no means peaceful, but the noise of the stray coin was particularly bothersome to the poor boy. He was fighting the urge to look up, but as if fate was taunting him the coin rolled to a stop right at his feet.

Finally he looked up, to see a girl, the probably owner of the coin, come chasing after it, only to halt at the sight of him.

"Che," He sucked his teeth. He may have been poor and hungry, but he had his pride. He wouldn't let fate turn him into a penny pinching low life. He picked up the coin and offered it up to the girl in front of him.

It must have been an odd sight. Normally, the person passing by would give a spare coin to the ratty street urchin who was sitting in the dirty alley, but the exact opposite was happening right now. It would have seemed odd to anyone, but to Quiet it was normal since the coin belonged to her anyway.

[Anonymous]

Miette suspended herself for a moment in the flow of the din filtering in from the street. She could hardly make out the boy's face, try as she might, though his gesture itself was straightforward. She gingerly took the coin between two fingers, taking a few steps back before turning on her heel and silently disappearing around the corner where she'd entered the alley.

A door marked with crooked boards swung open on the opposite end of the alley and a cat was tossed onto the pavement with a leaky bucket of various and sundry somethings. A passing boy, not much older than the one who sat in the alley though decked in over sized but clean hat and gloves, lit the streetlamp nearest to the mouth of the alley. The passage seemed to somewhat insulate itself as the noise of the street grew steadily less audible with each moment that drew the city closer to night.

In forgettable time, a few footsteps echoed purposefully against the stone before their sound withdrew into the young woman's more natural mode of approach. Miette was interested, and that was all it ever really took. She did not much consider that the driving force behind such a passive reaction as the boy had given to the luck practically falling into his lap might have been that he wanted to be left alone, or that he preferred to remain inconspicuous and absorbed in his fatigued reverie. Suddenly, she was squatting down in front of him with a miniature crate of about ten strawberries held eagerly between both hands like a treasure chest.

"Hungry?" Curious. She thought that perhaps she would see his face.

[Anonymous]

The girl took her coin, and left. The Quiet felt his heart sank. It was the first time he met a young girl around his age, or what he guessed his age was. Besides that, he had hoped she might have pittied him. He didn't know exactly what he was hoping for. The coin? Some food? Maybe just her name? A simple wave would have been nice. Whatever he was hoping for, hope had crept up on him and bore it's self a place in his heart and now he was suffering the consequences. The inevidable result of hope is despair.

He hung his head, but didn't sulk much more than usual. He was used to despairing alone. He tried hard to shut out the world around him, hoping to rest and regain his strength like originally planned.

Suddenly, a young sweet voice rang out. It peirced through The Quiet's ears and stabbed him in his heart. He looked up and the girl was there again, crouching next to him and talking to him. Actually talking to him.

He looked up to her with wide surprised eyes and a slight blush appearing very evident on his usually pale skin. He had looked upwards to her so fast, that his bangs were thrown up, revealing both his yellow and blue eyes to her for just a second.

He was indeed hungry, it went with out saying. Was she taunting him? No it didn't seem that way. He began to reach out his hand, but he stopped and quickly looked down at his hand. They were very dirty. The strawberries looked so pristine and perfect, like the girl offering them. He felt like he would taint them, and her, if he were to reach out to and touch them with his filthy hands and so he hesitated.

[Anonymous]

When he raised his head, as if alarmed, the girl did not flinch though her gaze met his with a prodding sort of wonder sparked by their unusual color. Hers were alight while his seemed shadowed, saturated somehow in the shade of their respective colors. With hers, she followed along his hand once his hair had fallen back into his face, studying the wrinkles of his knuckles darkened by grime. Was this some genetic quirk, or was it something even better - something less human, she mused. In her mind, a spotlight effect seemed to creep across the boy's features where her attention was focused until it fell upon the ripe strawberries once more. It amused her briefly to think that among the three of them, the strawberries appeared most lively, and a small smile flourished from one corner of her lips to the other. She had found something here.

Miette lifted a brow at his hesitation, incorrectly assuming his motivation once more, though in earnest. "Oh, there's nothing wrong with them. I wouldn't have much need of hurting you, and strawberries are such cheerful things that I'm not sure they'd consent to any unnecessary trouble either," she offered matter-of-factly. He looked awfully sorry to hesitate.

Thinking that perhaps he needed some encouragement and doubtless interested in getting a taste on her own part, she took one strawberry by the stem and chewed its tipped half with a small sigh. Placing the crate on the ground beside them, she settled down onto her knees and took another little fruit in her hand, holding it up to him, her fingers stained with traces of pink.

"See?" Tilting her head slightly, she afforded a bit of roundabout logic to top her example off, "I am Miette, and since you have my name, we're really halfway not-strangers rather than...not, in which case you might worry about insidious strawberries."

[Anonymous]

Quiet quickly brushed his hand off against his clothes, fruitlessly as they were also dirty. Only then did he take the fruit that was offered to him. His mind was a blank, wiped clean by nervousness and anxiety.

Before giving into his hunger he reached into his pockets with his other hand. He pulled out a stack of small paper cards. Small rectangles, with nothing written on it except, 'The Quiet', sqaure in the middle of the front of the card.

He had been given the cards as a small single kind gesture in an otherwise horrid life. He didn't know why they gave it to him. It might have been his birthday, it might be because his parents were trying to make it so they could send him away, all the more faster. It might have been meant as a cruel joke, but whatever it was he found it useful.

She had introduced herself, and said some words that were a bit lost on Quiet. He had never heard anyone speak like she did, but he didn't talk to many people. Still, he was happy to listen to her voice. Her voice was unlike anything he had ever heard. Innocent, kind, warm, nice. It made his heart flutter just to listen to her. Even if he didn't quite understand everything she was saying.

He offered her one of the cards in response to recieving her name. It was his way of introducing himself, although some did not pick up on it. After that he hurridely took a bite of the strawberry he was holding and after only a few chews he ate the rest of it in the second bite. It was sweet and and a slightly citric sour bite. It was the best thing he had ever been given to eat.

[Anonymous]

Miette took the card, scanning over it and blinking once or twice before looking back to the boy. "The Quiet. Is this you then?" She grinned more candidly than before, as if he'd lifted a veil between them by this gesture, and brushed a few brown wisps behind her ear before taking another strawberry up, silently noting to herself that she would wait until he took one and eat them at the very least turn by turn. He seemed much hungrier than her.

"I'm jealous. You have such a fitting name, and mine doesn't mean much at all - something of little significance, I think." Her tone was almost playful, like she had just sat down and invited herself to tea in a coop full of chattering old friends. She hadn't spoken to anyone since her first and only delivery on the outskirts of Reajh that morning and the words seemed to slip airily from her mouth as if she were taking a long exhale to expel the stresses of the day. Miette was wholly incongruous to the setting, ghostly and bright in her draping white sun dress reminiscent of some ancient Mediterranean culture long lost from the history books. Flipping open the small leather satchel slung over her shoulder, Miette placed the card carefully inside amongst a series of folded and sealed papers nestled up against a handful of colorfully filled vials.

"I don't suppose you could tell me what you're doing here and not at your - at home." She began to pluck the tiny green leaves of the fruit one by one from its flower-like hat as he finished his first strawberry. The word 'home' felt rather foreign to her, but she supposed that some one must be accountable for how hungry he was. She had never been entirely sure what it meant, though she sensed its complexity.

"With eyes like that..." she added with a trailing inflection, reaching underneath his chin with her free hand to lift his thin face just enough to allow the dark hairs framing it to fall back, taking care not to surprise him with more than a light, practically immaterial touch. Her eyes searched quickly in this second glance. She noticed a few stubborn, messy locks covering what she dismissed as some hidden abrasion raising the ashy skin of his forehead. "...you could get into a lot of trouble by yourself."

[Anonymous]

Quiet nodded yes when she asked if that was his name, though she seemed to understand already. He picked up another strawberry and took a bite of it, eating more than half. He noticed she was holding one, but not eating, and decided to pace himself. He held onto his half bitten half, slowly chewing his mouthful.

He smiled warmly at her comment about his name. It was a timid smile, that one might miss if they weren't paying attention, but it was worlds different from his usual scowl. That was natural, considering the feelings he harbored in these moments were worlds different from what he was accustomed to.

He shyly took a peak at the friendly young girl, but then returned his gaze to his 'meal'. He felt she was too beautiful to look at, and kept his eyes cast downward. He could feel that he was blushing, but he didn't mind. It's not like he could stop it if he wanted to. It was best not to worry about it. There was no hiding it, considering how pale he was. Still, at least he was able to hide his horn. He dreaded the thought of her seeing it, but was confident that the white cotton bandage would hold its place. He wouldn't have lasted long out in the open without it. He began to feel guilty, though. The cheery girl's words were surely wasted on him. He wouldn't return the witty banter.

And then, she asked him why he was there. He generally didn't answer such trivial questions. What would she do with the information when she had it? What possible reason could she have for needing to know this? Curiosity was not a luxury that Quiet divulged in, and couldn't understand how others would. She reached out to him as well, and though he normally didn't want to be touched, he didn't want to refuse her. He let her guide him to look her square in the eyes, despite the myriad of emotions it brought up.

Fear, embarrassment, even a bit of anger all welled up inside him, but he remained mostly quiet. He smile had faded, replaced by an expression that was pleading. His cheeks had turned bright red by now. This rollercoaster of emotions, going from morbidly depressed to completely flustered, was taking its toll on his weary body. He felt he could pass out from the tension, only his pride keeping him conscious now.

This girl's kindness and the guilt and debt Quiet felt made him want to answer her very badly. He wanted to tell her, everything. He wanted to do anything she asked, but at the same time he didn't want to burden her with his problems. So ultimately he remained as silent as ever. He did make a decision, despite that. He popped what was left of his strawberry into his mouth and enjoyed its flavor as he reached up to his forehead. The crisp flavor that flooded his mouth might have been the last happiness he could get out of this encounter... depending on how she reacted.

He removed his bandage, revealing his horn. He then looked to the girl, timidly. He flicked his horn with his finger, once. This was his answer to what she said to him.

[Anonymous]

Miette had to suppress a little laugh at his bright and sudden color change, wholly ignorant of the well of emotions she must have been confusing him with if it were not for the absolute expression of his eyes, which hinted her to take more caution with her actions.

And then, the boy reached up and removed the bandage originally obscured by his hair. Where she had thought some bruise or cut would be, a miniature horn was now apparent, given a steady outline by the increasingly singular light filtering into the alley. A horn...that narrowed down the possibilities quite a bit, came her first thought, while positively multiplying the mystery. Her hand slid away slowly, one finger settling finally on the corner of her mouth, lips parting with the weight of contemplation, as the strawberry she had been holding tumbled forgotten into her lap. There was certainly magic at work here, and that troubled Miette just a bit more than it excited her to find some one similar to her - well, at least in relation to the general populous of Connlaoth.

"Well, Quiet," she began, hands falling into her lap, "we have more in common than I thought."

Miette rose to her feet in one smooth movement, taking the crate of strawberries under arm. The light of the street lamp glowed strongly behind her, softly silhouetting all but the gleam of her eyes. The sun was setting. "I'll show you how to hide a bit better in sight if you follow me. It will be night soon, anyway, and I'd rather not walk alone. I'd rather you didn't sit alone."

She paused for a moment as a common commotion echoed down the way; a group of harmless drunkards getting an early start on the evening heading in their direction, maybe. Rocking back on her heels, she added as if she thought she might not be convincing enough on her own: "And you can have as many of the strawberries as you'd like!"

[Anonymous]

He was also very curious about what she mentioned about magic, and how to hide his magical nature. He stood up, at her request that he come with her. He stood up straight and tall looking her square in the eyes, for just a second, hinting at the man he could one day be, but it was not long before old habits kicked in again. He began to slouch and hang his head as he raised his hands up to replace the bandage over his horn.

He took a few steps closer to her, but stopped while he was still a comfortable distance from her.

He nodded to her to confirm with out a doubt, that he would follow her. If Quiet needed a practical reason to follow her, he had it. The thought of food was enough reason to do such a simple thing. Of course, even had he no logical reason to follow her, he probably would have. Some might argue her company alone was logical reason to follow her, but his pride would not have allowed him to ever agree to that. Either way he wouldn't speak a word of it, so it mattered little what he thought.

[Anonymous]

At his nod and courageous display which seemed to coax the future from its own tense for a moment, Miette sequestered another emerging grin to one corner of her lips before turning about on her heel as if about to engage in a dance. Her peculiar ballroom footwork carried her off across the threshold where the alley met the main street. There you could see that she immediately weighted her movements and let her steps linger longer on the pavement. She was in good spirits now, though her mood seemed a nervous mixture of anticipation and exposure to imagined lurking evils. She felt like a child herself, though she was barely more than that, hurrying for cover in the wake of some as yet unseen boogieman.

Peering down the street, she made an immediate decision to cut across the market way and make a 'U' turn through the adjacent buildings to avoid the passersby, glancing behind once in a while to make sure that Quiet was still following as he seemed to keep the space between them with some restraint. What a funny thing, she found herself reflecting. I wonder if he found me or if I found him.

Once they had reached the street on the opposite side of the market way, Miette pointedly fell back to walk almost beside him as a couple of ladies in fine clothing overtook them heading anxiously toward the far quarter of the town.

"Oftentimes, I find that when I'm delivering my messages - that's what I do, you see - the less purpose you walk with, the better. This way," she indicated, nodding her head toward a corridor, twice as confined as the one where the odd pair had come upon each other, that ran between twin two-storied structures half of wood and half of stone with mirroring windows fully and warmly alight that seemed, if you squinted at the divide, to bend crookedly to meet across the backdrop of the sky.

[Anonymous]

The Quiet, followed after her a few paces behind her. He kept his hands in his pockets, and he leaned forward just lightly as he walked at a pace that was brisk enough to keep up. Of course naturally, his eyes were cast downwards and he avoided eye contact. His ears were burning, as he felt the stares of those they passed by. Although he might have just been imagining it altogether, since he dared not look up to confirm whether or not anyone was actually staring.

He only assumed they would. A dirty street urchin, following an innocent young girl around. It looked suspicious, or at least Quiet assumed it did. His eye and horn were hidden from plain sight, but somehow he felt the crowd knew. Knew what? Something, but the boy was suspicious, or at least he assumed he was. It might have been all in his head. Worrying for nothing, but he was worrying and the damage was done. The anxiety forced him into his posture, eyes cast downward.

Thankfully he had become adept at walking through crowds, while mostly just looking at down where only their feet can be seen. Of course, it helped that he was following the young girl, cutting a path for him. Even with that, he'd have to nervously peek upwards to make sure he would avoid someone who's path crossed his, in between him and the one leading him along to who knows where.

He slowed down a bit to a more comfortable walking pace, when she slowed abruptly to walk besides him. He stood up slightly straighter, naturally, wanting to look less pathetic in front of the girl. However, he was still slouching. He didn't even notice the women who walked by, to him in this world there was only one other person right now, and what was around them was just a blob of loud angry things that were just waiting for an excuse to hang him or something else unfortunate enough to stand out.

Even though she was so important to him, his habits and short comings didn't magically disappear to accommodate what he wanted to be for her. She had said something to him. He didn't know what she had said exactly. He did pick up that she delivered messages, but that was just an after thought added on amidst something else. The crowd around them was too loud, and he must have misheard. Either that, or he simply lacked the social skills to understand what she just said.

It was just as likely to be one, or the other. Possibly, it was even some mixture of the two. Regardless, he simply forced a smile and casually nodded yes to her, as if he had understood. Truth was, he often did that, and got away with it. Whenever someone would try to talk to him, he'd just ignore it or agree to whatever it was they had said. He'd do whichever he felt would get them to leave him alone fastest.

Truthfully she was probably speaking just fine. He just didn't pay attention enough, or didn't have the experience to understand. Luckily he had the traveling to take the focus off his poor social skills. He followed her, walking by her side this time, into yet another alley. He had mostly stayed to the alleys, darting from one to the other. He felt less anxiety there. On the main streets it felt like he was admits the mob that was chasing him, probably because that's basically what it was more or less.

Still, he did not dare look too far up. They always tell you to reach for the sky in lyrics and fairy tales, but whenever The Quiet tried to look up he just found it to be much too bright.

[Anonymous]

Miette slowed to a stop near the center of the long alley, turning to the left and hopping onto the the first then skipping up to the third step on a small stair that barely protruded from the wall. The stone that comprised the steps was heavily grooved, giving it the appearance of uneven slabs of mud suspended in oozing formation in time. Barely a few inches from the girl's nose (due to the more than cozy width of the steps) a wooden door grey with decay came slowly into view with the readjusting light, almost entirely unnoticeable from the street. She reached up and wrapped against it with her fist several times, in no particular pattern but with a cheerful sort of hollow little "hello!"

Miette purposefully stepped back onto the second step, looking over her shoulder so that she wouldn't fall back if her feet found the edge first, and motioned Quiet over with a gesture held close to her side. Seconds later the door swung open, ensconcing the pair in warm light as a middle aged man's head poked out. The man had a crooked nose upon which were settled a pair of glasses very slightly off-kilter. Looking out quite over her head, the man shoved his hands into his pockets, inciting a hidden symphony of jingling keys. As soon as his eyes fell upon her, the man half-smiled in the sense that half of his mouth seemed much quicker to pick up on the expression than the other, and stepped aside to allow them in with nothing more than an aknowledging "Ah..."

Miette filed in as naturally as if she lived there. The man retreated silently behind the large oak counter which stood in the middle of the small entrance room. He was out of sight in a moment, descending behind the counter in a peculiar display with the sound of wood scraping against wood, concluded with the thud and exhale of planks coming together like a puzzle. The room was full of light from several cased candelabras mounted on the wall at each of its corners, giving a colorful glow to the myriad bottles, vials, and decanters stacked on shelves adorning the opposite wall behind the counter. To the right of the built-in shelves was a niche were a staircase wound steeply upward. Drying leaves hung in a bundle from a rack on the ceiling nearby a small round window at the end of the door's wall. The floorboards creaked in protest of their unfair treatment and the walls leaned somewhat as if imposing upon them in response.

"This is an apothecary's shop. He's a very good friend of mine. We don't know much about each other," she said over her shoulder to Quiet. She absent-mindedly ran her finger across the counter, making a face at the dust she picked up and waving it off with a small sneeze.

[Anonymous]

Quiet continued to follow Miette, but he was not as graceful as her. He slipped on on the awkward step, following down to the ground. He quickly scrambled to his feet, and dusted himself off, though he was still quite dirty after he was done.

He tried to maintain his composure and look undaunted but he could feel himself blushing hard. Though he didn't quite understand what that feeling was exactly.

He hesitated when he saw the stranger, but his desire to stay with Miette was greater than his desire to stay away from strangers. So he soon followed after them inside.

Apothecary shop? He had never been in one before. He looked around a more usual stoic gaze. It was overall unimpressive, but at the same thing he couldn't pick out anything about it that was bad. Of course he remained silent, and didn't comment with such a boring thought.

He simply nodded to show that he understood what he said, most of it. More than usual. Of course she might have missed it if she wasn't looking. He wondered how this place would help him, and why she had brought him here, but he assumed she'd answer those questions with out any prompt from him. So he simply waited patiently.

[Anonymous]

Miette finally released the strawberries from their delicious captivity again, placing them on the counter though first tossing one more to him and popping another into her mouth, reasoning that this business was no excuse for further torturing their stomachs. She leaned back on the counter and looked over Quiet for a moment, as if she were examining him for the study of some hidden malady. All of a sudden, she raised up and waltzed around behind the tabletop, reaching up into the second highest shelf on her tip-toes. Muffled but incautious noises of shuffling feet and redistributed objects or perhaps furniture came from beneath her, under the floorboards. She searched along the row of bottles until she was satisfied with the shape of one, taking it down in one hand and hopping up to deftly swipe an empty bottle from the space behind it with the other. Upon her short landing, she tumbled backward just enough to catch herself with a little creative footwork. Then she placed the filled blue bottle on the counter top with a victorious sigh and turned to the boy once more, holding up the empty one.

"This is what I was looking for! My friend won't mind if I borrow it." Her tone was bright. You'd think that she had found something long lost and full of purpose, despite the fact that this particular thing appeared for all intents and purposes to be the exact opposite.

The girl moved toward the door, peering through its cracks where she made certain that it had sealed itself. "Behaving," she whispered with satisfaction to no one in particular, looking rather odd (as per usual) pressing her face into the cracks of a door.

"There are lots of tricks you can learn to fool just average people in this city," she began, retrieving a bare frame wooden chair from the corner by the stairway. She placed its back against the base of the counter and patted its seat to invite him to it, continuing in a subdued voice. "To hide whatever it is they wouldn't react kindly to. What you look like, I mean - your horn. People like you and I need the kind of help you can get from people like my friend here at this shop to keep out of sight. You are like me, aren't you? I suppose you wouldn't have taken your bandage off if you couldn't tell somehow. I wonder what you are, you know. You're quite an interesting friend," she added enthusiastically, gently twisting the cork of the empty bottle.

[Anonymous]

The Quiet stared intently at the bottle that Miette had brought out for him. He began to feel a strong detest grow in the pit of his stomach. He hated the thought of hiding who he was, and having to skulk in the shadows like some kind of second rate citizen. It was as if he were lesser than the humans out there, who could walk free and unafraid. Of course this was a feeling he was intimately familiar with. The truth was, he was powerless to do anything about this feeling. He could only endure it. Weak cowards do not have the luxury of pride. Whether it was with the tricks, the Miette spoke of, or with the bandage he put on himself, he had no choice but to hide his freakishness, less he be exposed for the monster that he was.

When he was offered a chair, he reluctantly moved forward to take a seat for her. When Miette called him a friend, his heart skipped a beat. She was the sole happiness he could find in this situation. He smiled to her, although there was sorrow in his eyes.

The truth was he was human. Nothing more, nothing less. Averagely gifted in magic, maybe only slightly more so than others, and of course with a few unique facial traits. However he was not born with these. He was not part ram or cat, he was just human with a young ram's horn and a cat's eye mixed into his flesh and bone.

But what difference would it make if he told her that? It's not like she could somehow convince everyone he met that he was just a normal human. Aside from, hiding his unique features better than he did, and she did not need to know for that. He didn't give any answer to her question, aside from his sad smile. If she pressed him with the question, he might answer, but he hoped she would realize it was a touchy subject for him.

[Anonymous]

Miette found herself contemplating how weighted he always looked, as if something were constantly hanging over his head, bending his posture and eyes to the ground or lessening a smile with an enveloping sense of somberness. She imagined what it would be like if people physically carried their burdens around on their shoulders and how they would all get around without the towers of luggage leaning into one another. The concept would have been comical if it hadn't been so near to her. A few feet away, in fact, as she rounded to the front of the chair where the boy now sat.

When the girl finally pulled the cork from the bottle, the light of the wall sconces reflected a hint of smoke escaping from its tiny glass neck before collapsing back inside in a silent puff, like a recoiling flower bud. She placed it on the counter top just behind his head as if to let it breathe.

"I'll show you this next. It's a screen of sorts. A smoke screen," she laughed a little to herself at the half-joke. "But first, something simpler."

Miette reached for a strawberry, biting one end off impatiently after struggling unsuccessfully to open the fruit with her short fingernails. Swallowing the bit, she dipped a finger into the center of the remainder to stain it with the pink juice and knelt down to level with him in the crop-legged chair, lifting her hand toward his face and poising it as a painter would a brush in front of a canvas. She staid her movement a comfortable distance away.

"May I?" The girl tilted her head to one side to let her hair fall back over her shoulder and out of her eyes. She had taken note of many of his subtle reactions, ever the observer typically absorbed in her peripherals, and did not care to give him a heart attack with any unprecedented contact. Her brow was lifted lightly in a calm, curious expression while her eyes took care of the search for any signs that she was being too obtrusive again. Not that she was sure of what to do with herself if she were, but she reasoned that the thought counted and she'd cross that nervous little bridge when he dove under it.

[Anonymous]

He had expected it would come to this, so he was slightly prepared. The curtesy she showed him was very much still appreciated. He nodded yes to her, and steeled his courage, despite the nervousness that her drawing closer had invoked.

He sat up uncharacteristically straight, looking her directly in the eyes. Below this brave front, his nervousness could be seen as his hands were gripping the edges of his seat so tight, and his embarrassment could be seen by his rosy cheeks.

He wondered what she might do, especially with the strawberry that she probed for it's juice. All he could do was put himself in her care. The thought that she might be trying to scam him, or even steal his soul or something of that nature, nagged at him, but he pushed the it aside. He wanted very much to trust her. After all, she even called him friend.

[Anonymous]

"You're doing my job for me," she laughed, unable to keep from grinning at his blush. Miette reached forward and painted two pink lines on each cheek, slanting downward around his eye and the other meeting in the middle over his nose, nudging the bandage aside a bit where necessary. Reaching into her bag and placing the halved fruit back back in the miniature crate for the time, she pulled out a vial of petal-like powdered shavings of a yellowish, peachy color and scattered a few across her palm, flattening them into powder with one touch and making likewise lines on his brow and chin.

"Some one once taught me that the distribution of blood in the face causes certain color changes, like...like water in a flower," she explained vaguely, then beginning to brush the two strange mediums across his features to blend them in. His skin began to take on a more average, hued tone than usual, which in turn drew the shadows of his thin face forth and minimized them.

"This is just a sort of illusion, though there's nothing magical about it," she said, not very mindful of the implications that held for her other tricks. "It just makes you stand out less."

Once she'd finished and sensing his apprehension, she dabbed her own face with the pink of the strawberry and rubbed it in to show him what she'd done, creating a very light mock flush to distract from her usual translucency.

"Your eyes, on the other hand..." She rested a hand under her chin thoughtfully before decidedly recapturing the seemingly empty bottle from before from the counter top. The girl offered the bottle to him.

"It smells like blueberry tart," she sighed. "It's like a smoke that keeps to itself. Inhaling from this will create a screen over your eyes, a sort of dullness, to hide any marked brilliance for, oh, the length of a conversation with a friendly official or something of that nature. Not long lasting, just a precaution to take when you're in a pinch. Try it."