Post by Ace of Glaives on Jul 13, 2022 5:10:23 GMT 10
Series: Only Child
Title: Click Your Heels
Rating: G
Event: Up to No Good
Words: 1444
Summary: Aly gifts Petranne with some unusual new playmates.
Author’s Note: There are the faintest references to grieving the loss of a sibling here that I didn't think warranted a higher rating, but please proceed with caution if that's something you'd rather avoid.
It took Petranne weeks to really start missing Elsren. Everything had been so fast, and so much, and only now that she was completely alone in her empty rooms with her dolls and Elsren’s toy soldiers did it hit home that this would be her life forever now.
Petranne and Elsren hadn’t really played together – not often, at least, and when they had it was always with Elsren’s toys because dolls were for girls. But he had always been there, babbling to himself beside her or throwing a fit while Petranne played quietly in the corner. She tried to play anyway, but she had always been bad at make-believe. She had used to pretend the dolls were her family and take them on adventures all around the Isles – and, once Aly came along, Tortall – but that wasn’t much fun anymore. So Petranne sat around in her boring, lonely rooms and kicked her heels and pretended to be having fun whenever anyone looked in on her.
Until the day Aly came to look.
Petranne was playing dress-up when Aly came in, but without Sarai there to do her hair and lend her jewels it just felt like putting on clothes. Mostly, she was throwing outfits on the floor in a fit of petulance, which was a word she had learned from Aly.
“Looks like you’re up to no good,” Aly said, raising one eyebrow like she always did when she was pretending to be stern but really thought it was funny. She leaned against Petranne’s bedpost and surveyed the chaos of ruffles and fabrics on the floor. “Maybe I should have you watched.”
Petranne blushed. It was embarrassing enough to feel like a petulant baby without having somebody see it and think it was funny. “I already have guards,” she said, trying not to sound whiny. Guards were fine, but they weren’t friends. You couldn’t play toy soldiers with real soldiers.
Aly pursed her lips for a few moments, looking very sorry all of a sudden, before she grinned that Aly grin that meant she was about to let Petranne and Elsren do something they weren’t allowed to do.
“Not my guards,” she said, and winked.
Petranne didn’t find out who Aly’s guards were until the next morning, when Aly came into the room as quietly as a cat, carrying a small picnic basket covered with a spare sash. It didn’t look like she’d slept.
“Still up to no good, I see,” Aly said, setting down the basket on Petranne’s unmade bed. “It’s a good thing I thought to check in you; can’t have you conspiring against your sister.”
Petranne shot up straight, scrambling out from under her blankets to look Aly in the eye. “I’m not!” She knew what conspiring was. Aly and Dove and mama talked about it all the time. It was very bad, except when Aly did it; then it was okay.
“We’ll see,” Aly said with a teasing grin that made Petranne feel silly for taking her seriously. She pulled back the basket’s covering to reveal its wriggling, jet-black contents. “I have ears everywhere, remember.”
Petranne gasped. “Darkings!”
“I rounded up a few extras. They’ll be with you night and day, so don’t try anything funny, alright?” Aly said, schooling her grin into a serious frown.
Petranne was barely listening. The ball of darkings was splitting itself into smaller balls, until there were six ink-black blobs pooled on top of her rumpled blankets, staring at her without eyes. Trembling, she reached out a hand to the nearest one, which surged up to wrap a tentacle around her finger like a tiny handshake.
“This is Honeycomb,” Aly said. “The others are all young, so they may not have names yet. You’ll have to ask them yourself.”
Petranne shook her head, too nervous to speak. She had only seen darkings from far away before and she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to ask.
The second-biggest darking spoke, in a high-pitched, squeaky chirp like papa doing silly voices in a bedtime story. “No names yet! We like suggestions.”
“There you have it,” Aly said, standing from the bed and smoothing down her sarong. When she was nearly out the door, she paused, and without turning around to look at Petranne, said gently, “they can talk to my darkings, or your mother’s, or Dove’s. But they’ll keep your secrets if you ask them to.”
Petranne bit her lip and didn’t cry until Aly had left, shutting the door behind her. She could ask, but the darkings were still Aly’s in the end and Aly would know if Petranne was unhappy and then mama and Dove would have to take time out of running a country to come comfort her. She would just have to be better at pretending, then.
“Big room,” said the second darking, rolling itself over and over like a wheel to travel a circle around the edges of the bed. “Just you?”
“I have dolls. We play make-believe,” Petranne said. She bit her lip again. That sounded stupid.
The darking rolled towards her until it bumped into her knee, still covered by the blanket, and looked up at her curiously. “What is ‘dolls’?”
Petranne blinked in confusion. She thought darkings knew everything; that’s why Aly used them like human spies. “They’re like little people, but they’re not alive. You play with them and make them move.”
“Darkings don’t play,” piped up the smallest darking. It was quiet for a moment. “But we could learn.”
That was how Petranne found herself sitting on the floor at the foot of her bed, surrounded by wrinkled clothes and curious darkings, explaining something she’d never had to explain before.
“This is the mama doll. And this is the me doll, and the Dove doll, and – “ She stopped. That one had been the Sarai doll. But Sarai was in Carthak, and it was hard to imagine her going on adventures with Petranne anytime soon. She placed it in front of Honeycomb. “This can be your doll.”
Honeycomb extended a curious tentacle, then, when it discovered that it could make the doll’s arm move at the shoulder joint, another three. It waved the doll’s hand at Petranne. She couldn’t help waving back, just a little.
The other five darkings immediately began to clamor for dolls of their own, and Petranne was quickly forced to relinquish the Aly doll when she ran out of nameless dolls to give away. Surely Aly wouldn’t mind; the darkings were on loan from her, after all.
Playing dolls with the darkings was much more fun than playing soldiers with Elsren had ever been. They each talked for their own dolls, for one, and they were better at moving them. With the darkings, it wasn’t even like make-believe. It was more like the nights at Lombyn when papa or mama would begin a story and let all of the children make up the next part. It wasn’t boring at all.
The next time Aly came to visit, she found Petranne in the middle of a circle of darkings, all expertly controlling their own dolls as they whirled about her in a courtly dance. Petranne’s two dolls – the Petranne doll and the former Dove doll, now changed to a handsome Tortallan prince – danced together slowly in the center as Petranne hummed a waltz she had once heard Rihani singing to herself after a ball.
Aly laughed, startling Petranne and the six darkings. “Definitely up to no good.”
“We are dancing,” said the second biggest darking, which had named itself Cobweb.
“Playing dolls,” added the smallest darking, Button, helpfully.
Aly raised an eyebrow dubiously. “Trick?”
Trick unspooled itself from around her neck. “Dancing is good. Darkings learn to waltz.”
Aly covered her mouth with her hand. Petranne couldn’t tell whether she looked like she was about to laugh or cry. “That’s – good. Waltzing is wonderful.” She composed herself. “But we can’t get complacent. I’ve got my eye on you.”
According to Cobweb, only Aly knew about Petranne’s darkings. Petranne liked it that way. She didn’t think anyone would try to take them from her, but just in case, they stayed her secret. All it took was a knock on the door for them to drop their dolls and swarm up her arms and beneath the folds of her clothes to hide until they were alone again. Once it was safe, a small head would poke out from a sleeve or a pocket, look both ways to make sure the coast was clear, and say, hopefully, “up to no good?”
It made Petranne giggle every time. “Definitely.”
Title: Click Your Heels
Rating: G
Event: Up to No Good
Words: 1444
Summary: Aly gifts Petranne with some unusual new playmates.
Author’s Note: There are the faintest references to grieving the loss of a sibling here that I didn't think warranted a higher rating, but please proceed with caution if that's something you'd rather avoid.
It took Petranne weeks to really start missing Elsren. Everything had been so fast, and so much, and only now that she was completely alone in her empty rooms with her dolls and Elsren’s toy soldiers did it hit home that this would be her life forever now.
Petranne and Elsren hadn’t really played together – not often, at least, and when they had it was always with Elsren’s toys because dolls were for girls. But he had always been there, babbling to himself beside her or throwing a fit while Petranne played quietly in the corner. She tried to play anyway, but she had always been bad at make-believe. She had used to pretend the dolls were her family and take them on adventures all around the Isles – and, once Aly came along, Tortall – but that wasn’t much fun anymore. So Petranne sat around in her boring, lonely rooms and kicked her heels and pretended to be having fun whenever anyone looked in on her.
Until the day Aly came to look.
Petranne was playing dress-up when Aly came in, but without Sarai there to do her hair and lend her jewels it just felt like putting on clothes. Mostly, she was throwing outfits on the floor in a fit of petulance, which was a word she had learned from Aly.
“Looks like you’re up to no good,” Aly said, raising one eyebrow like she always did when she was pretending to be stern but really thought it was funny. She leaned against Petranne’s bedpost and surveyed the chaos of ruffles and fabrics on the floor. “Maybe I should have you watched.”
Petranne blushed. It was embarrassing enough to feel like a petulant baby without having somebody see it and think it was funny. “I already have guards,” she said, trying not to sound whiny. Guards were fine, but they weren’t friends. You couldn’t play toy soldiers with real soldiers.
Aly pursed her lips for a few moments, looking very sorry all of a sudden, before she grinned that Aly grin that meant she was about to let Petranne and Elsren do something they weren’t allowed to do.
“Not my guards,” she said, and winked.
Petranne didn’t find out who Aly’s guards were until the next morning, when Aly came into the room as quietly as a cat, carrying a small picnic basket covered with a spare sash. It didn’t look like she’d slept.
“Still up to no good, I see,” Aly said, setting down the basket on Petranne’s unmade bed. “It’s a good thing I thought to check in you; can’t have you conspiring against your sister.”
Petranne shot up straight, scrambling out from under her blankets to look Aly in the eye. “I’m not!” She knew what conspiring was. Aly and Dove and mama talked about it all the time. It was very bad, except when Aly did it; then it was okay.
“We’ll see,” Aly said with a teasing grin that made Petranne feel silly for taking her seriously. She pulled back the basket’s covering to reveal its wriggling, jet-black contents. “I have ears everywhere, remember.”
Petranne gasped. “Darkings!”
“I rounded up a few extras. They’ll be with you night and day, so don’t try anything funny, alright?” Aly said, schooling her grin into a serious frown.
Petranne was barely listening. The ball of darkings was splitting itself into smaller balls, until there were six ink-black blobs pooled on top of her rumpled blankets, staring at her without eyes. Trembling, she reached out a hand to the nearest one, which surged up to wrap a tentacle around her finger like a tiny handshake.
“This is Honeycomb,” Aly said. “The others are all young, so they may not have names yet. You’ll have to ask them yourself.”
Petranne shook her head, too nervous to speak. She had only seen darkings from far away before and she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to ask.
The second-biggest darking spoke, in a high-pitched, squeaky chirp like papa doing silly voices in a bedtime story. “No names yet! We like suggestions.”
“There you have it,” Aly said, standing from the bed and smoothing down her sarong. When she was nearly out the door, she paused, and without turning around to look at Petranne, said gently, “they can talk to my darkings, or your mother’s, or Dove’s. But they’ll keep your secrets if you ask them to.”
Petranne bit her lip and didn’t cry until Aly had left, shutting the door behind her. She could ask, but the darkings were still Aly’s in the end and Aly would know if Petranne was unhappy and then mama and Dove would have to take time out of running a country to come comfort her. She would just have to be better at pretending, then.
“Big room,” said the second darking, rolling itself over and over like a wheel to travel a circle around the edges of the bed. “Just you?”
“I have dolls. We play make-believe,” Petranne said. She bit her lip again. That sounded stupid.
The darking rolled towards her until it bumped into her knee, still covered by the blanket, and looked up at her curiously. “What is ‘dolls’?”
Petranne blinked in confusion. She thought darkings knew everything; that’s why Aly used them like human spies. “They’re like little people, but they’re not alive. You play with them and make them move.”
“Darkings don’t play,” piped up the smallest darking. It was quiet for a moment. “But we could learn.”
That was how Petranne found herself sitting on the floor at the foot of her bed, surrounded by wrinkled clothes and curious darkings, explaining something she’d never had to explain before.
“This is the mama doll. And this is the me doll, and the Dove doll, and – “ She stopped. That one had been the Sarai doll. But Sarai was in Carthak, and it was hard to imagine her going on adventures with Petranne anytime soon. She placed it in front of Honeycomb. “This can be your doll.”
Honeycomb extended a curious tentacle, then, when it discovered that it could make the doll’s arm move at the shoulder joint, another three. It waved the doll’s hand at Petranne. She couldn’t help waving back, just a little.
The other five darkings immediately began to clamor for dolls of their own, and Petranne was quickly forced to relinquish the Aly doll when she ran out of nameless dolls to give away. Surely Aly wouldn’t mind; the darkings were on loan from her, after all.
Playing dolls with the darkings was much more fun than playing soldiers with Elsren had ever been. They each talked for their own dolls, for one, and they were better at moving them. With the darkings, it wasn’t even like make-believe. It was more like the nights at Lombyn when papa or mama would begin a story and let all of the children make up the next part. It wasn’t boring at all.
The next time Aly came to visit, she found Petranne in the middle of a circle of darkings, all expertly controlling their own dolls as they whirled about her in a courtly dance. Petranne’s two dolls – the Petranne doll and the former Dove doll, now changed to a handsome Tortallan prince – danced together slowly in the center as Petranne hummed a waltz she had once heard Rihani singing to herself after a ball.
Aly laughed, startling Petranne and the six darkings. “Definitely up to no good.”
“We are dancing,” said the second biggest darking, which had named itself Cobweb.
“Playing dolls,” added the smallest darking, Button, helpfully.
Aly raised an eyebrow dubiously. “Trick?”
Trick unspooled itself from around her neck. “Dancing is good. Darkings learn to waltz.”
Aly covered her mouth with her hand. Petranne couldn’t tell whether she looked like she was about to laugh or cry. “That’s – good. Waltzing is wonderful.” She composed herself. “But we can’t get complacent. I’ve got my eye on you.”
According to Cobweb, only Aly knew about Petranne’s darkings. Petranne liked it that way. She didn’t think anyone would try to take them from her, but just in case, they stayed her secret. All it took was a knock on the door for them to drop their dolls and swarm up her arms and beneath the folds of her clothes to hide until they were alone again. Once it was safe, a small head would poke out from a sleeve or a pocket, look both ways to make sure the coast was clear, and say, hopefully, “up to no good?”
It made Petranne giggle every time. “Definitely.”