Chapter 15: Worries & Snow

Chapter 15: Worries & Snow Whether it was day or night, the light inside the flat remained the same with the only hint of time passing being the scrapes and thuds of people waking up and getting about their day. It was still early, but not unreasonably so and by all accounts Misha should have fallen right to sleep, except he hadn’t. There were two reasons for this, though which was the bigger one, he could not be sure. One reason was, of course, the revelation and subsequent explanation of what had transpired with the little girl. To make a long story short, the girl had, completely unconsciously, created a Coil out of fear then gotten stuck in it since she hadn’t meant to make one in the first place, and likely had no idea what was going on. That scary environment and inability to leave had scared her even more, further reinforcing the inscription. Finally, when Misha found her, she was so terrified to see a dragon that she accidentally cast a second spell, one to bewitch someone in range to take her away from the danger, to help her escape. As Amethyst was the only human looking creature at the time, she was the one that got hit by it. Then when Bran stabbed her through, that broke the spell, bringing her back to her senses. And as for the power source for all this spell casting, Misha had been horrified to learn that it had been the girl herself. "Bran, can all humans accidentally use magic like that, or...?" And here was the other reason for Misha’s insomnia was that while he was indeed in bed, he was not alone. Amethyst, still recovering from the blow Bran had dealt her, was sleeping in Misha’s usual bed while Misha himself was sharing a bed... with Bran. Something that hadn’t been righted after turning back into a human was Misha’s desire to be touched by those hands in this form too, but he tried not to think about it. He was probably just too jetlagged. "It’s how you imagine," Bran replied, seemingly completely unbothered by sharing a bed with Misha. "Anyone can carve inscriptions or write them out on the right medium then connect up a power source, but only certain bloodlines can skip all that and do it innately or accidentally." "Like how a dragon can transform if they get angry or scared?" "Just so." Bran shifted. "You feeling alright?" he asked. "Huh? Oh, I’m fine," Misha said quickly, even if it wasn’t true for multiple reasons. There was a silence though they both knew the other was still awake. "The little girl... will she be okay?" finally asked Misha. "She will. Now that it’s known that she has a special bloodline, the right departments will be keeping an eye on her and her family to make sure nothing goes wrong." Another silence. "Bran." "Mm?" "When I found the... Coil, I thought about what you said about what spells need to function, inscription, medium and power, and I put that together with what you told me about how the charm on my tail works, so I..." Misha pulled the blanket higher. "So, I thought, if I just focus all my attention on the Coil, to show that it exists, then it would make it use up all its power, so..." "You ended up burning the life force of the little girl," finished Bran. Misha bit his lip and stared up into the darkness. "Will she really be-" "She’ll be okay," Bran repeated. "Really. Life force, authentic qi, whatever you want to call it, yes, it’s important, and if you run out of it you die, but it’s also recoverable. You can... grow it back, so to speak." "That’s good..." The in the silence they could both hear the dull taps of an animal, probably a dog, pattering around upstairs. "Misha, don’t try to blame yourself," said Bran. "I know," said Misha. "That’s good." But that wasn’t enough for Misha. He was tired, extremely tired, but what had he really gotten done? Next to nothing. All he’d done while Bran and Amethyst were saving the day, was to cause the girl more trauma. No, that was far from okay. He had to do something. He had to contribute. He shut his eyes as the memory of his father’s words from all those months ago rang between his ears again. Have a little self-awareness, would you? Yes, I’m your father and it’s my responsibility to provide for you, but... Misha pushed the memory from his mind. He didn’t want to remember what that man had said, not when he’d then gone ahead and broken the unsaid promise between parent and child and tried to harm him, to kill him. Misha could still remember that look in his father’s eyes in that moment, that look that said as clearly as words that he saw his son purely as an object to be harvested, as just- "Misha?" Bran’s voice brought Misha back to the present with a start, but he didn’t reply. It would be best if he thought he’d already fallen asleep... An arm came over Misha’s side and hugged him loosely. "Close your eyes and imagine you’re in a forest. It’s snowing and everything around you is white." Misha could feel Bran’s breath on the back of his neck, yet his words somehow still managed to lull him into a real sense of calm. "It’s quiet and you’re walking slowly. The snow crunches quietly under your feet. Slowly... Slowly..." -- I had no idea when I fell asleep, or when you did, or when you got out of bed. All I knew was that was the best I’d slept in a long, long time. I sat up slowly and stiffly then stretched. The mattress you, or we, slept on was more of a thin mat that folded into threes and that you stuffed into the cupboard during the day along with the rest of the bedding. I recalled how you did it and imitated you and got everything packed away. I had to wonder, did you bother putting all of it away because that was your own habit or was it because that’s how your aunt did things? Not having an answer either way, I headed out to the living room. Amethyst was sitting at the coffee table looking strangely dazed. There was a bowl of food in front of her. "Morning," I said, dropping down next to her. "... Good morning," she mumbled. I looked at her then looked more closely at her bowl. It was a bowl of the left-over fried rice from the day before. Ah. "Have you tasted it?" I asked. She nodded. I asked no more. Instead, I looked around and even craned my neck to look into the kitchen. "Where’s Bran?" I asked. "He went out," replied Amethyst. "He said something about getting a box." "A box?" She shrugged. I looked the woman over. On the roof, she’d seem mysterious, or even alluring if you’re into that kind of thing, then the night before she’d been mysterious and frightening. Now, on the other hand, she just looked pitiful. I was absolutely starving and if I recalled correctly, we should still have some groceries from the light shopping the day before. I may not be much use when it comes to all this magic stuff, but I now realised there was one place where I could make great contributions: the kitchen. "Do you... want something else to eat?" I asked. -- Bran carried the wooden box under one arm while holding a reusable shopping bag in the other as he led the way through the crowded streets. "You’re free to stay for a meal," he said over his shoulder at the person following. The woman smiled politely. "I have a meeting at two, so I won’t be able to stay long," she said, keeping her voice level. "Oh, that’s too bad." Bran stopped at a fork in the path. The woman stopped beside him. She was tall, taller than Bran, and dressed in a smart casual suit that nicely complemented her high ponytail. The satchel she wore slung across her body, however, did not complement her professional look and looked very out of place with its faded straps and peeling, cracked leather clasps. "Are you...?" she began to ask. "This way," said Bran decisively and picked the left route. The woman followed without a word. Half an hour later they arrived at Bran’s aunt’s flat and to the sound and smells of wonderful creations being made in the kitchen. The woman felt her mouth start to water and she quickly followed Bran up the stairs and into the flat. "Misha?" called Bran, setting the wooden box on the ground by one of the bookshelves. "Kitchen," came the reply. Both Bran and the woman went to the door of the kitchen. Looking in, the woman saw that there were two people already inside the kitchen, a man and a woman, and that the wok was steaming full of extremely edible-looking food. The woman grabbed Bran’s arm. "My meeting at two has been cancelled."