There must be a thousand people here in the marketplace today; bodies press all around him and voices clamor above each other, peddling this, haggling for that. Solon pushes purposefully past them all, not even bothering to look back, much less wait for his apprentice. Jay almost has to run to keep up with him.
He is still small enough to dart easily through the spaces around people's legs, and still unmindful enough to crash, headfirst, into one of the many stalls. Luckily, he doesn't do much more than bruise his head.
The shopkeeper peeks over the counter, steadying his wares as he does so. "Well, hello," he says, in that condescending tone which all adults automatically seem to slip into when dealing with young children. "Come to buy something, little boy?"
Jay looks up not at the shopkeeper's voice, but at the sound of a thousand bells jangling in the breeze. His eyes fix on a particularly long, thin string of jingle bells, whipping about wildly in midair.
"Like them?" The shopkeeper chuckles. "Here, we've got whistles, we've got chimes, we've got every kind of ringing thing in existence, basically."
Jay clasps his hands. He considers whether it would be too forward of him to reach out and touch one.
At that very moment, however, the matter is decided for him. "Excuse me," sounds a soft, silky voice from behind them. "I'm terribly sorry to bother you, of course, but I seem to have misplaced a child here! Funny, that."
"Ah!" The shopkeeper's head bobs up and down rhythmically. "Of course, of course. Run along now, why don't you, little one?"
As Solon's gaze turns towards Jay, something in his countenance changes; he catches the boy's wrist to lead him off and squeezes hard enough to bruise.
"I'm sorry," Jay whispers. But Solon doesn't even look back.
-o-
The hour hand of the clock points resolutely between three and four and Jay is wondering whether it'd be worth possibly waking the Orosoren up to go downstairs and get something to drink. He decides against it.
He strides down the length of the room, turns on his heel, and traces his path back again. And again. And again. For some reason, he finds himself unable to keep still: as soon as he stops, he finds that his limbs want to start moving again. There is a restlessness about him, a vague feeling of unease coiled in the pit of his stomach. He'd tell you there's no reason for it, but that's not quite true.
Solon owns the early-morning hours. He always has, and he continues to do so, even after his death. The two of them had often made use of this time to train or travel, and--whether it's force of habit or something more sinister, the fact remains that Jay still rarely fails to wake early in the mornings and never sleeps terribly well when he does.
Turn, pace, pace. Turn, pace, pace.
What he really wants to do right now is run, take off and go dashing through the trees, fast enough that no one can catch him. (Fast enough that his ghosts can't catch him, he does not say.) But he doesn't have anywhere to go, and running without a destination is just running away, isn't it?
Jay sits down on the bed, folds his hands in his lap, and waits for the dawn.
There are hands circling his waist, sliding under his shirt to trail over bare skin. Jay is perfectly still. He tries not even to tremble, unsure what will happen if he moves the slightest amount.
"Such a pretty little child," Solon says, pulling Jay against him, and Jay doesn't resist. "So very obedient. I think I like you better like this."
Jay doesn't answer. There is a hot, uncomfortable feeling spreading out from his stomach, under his skin. He wants to hide.
He doesn't, of course.
Jay never, ever in a million years dreamed this would happen, and he has never regretted not accounting for a factor more.
("Hey! Hey, Jay!" Jay walks deliberately faster (though he doesn't run), not daring to look back until he knows Moses has caught up with him. "Would it kill you to wait up?" Moses pants, ruffling Jay's hair affectionately before slinging an arm around his shoulder. "So. How's it goin'?"
Jay shrugs out of his grip. "D-don't touch me!"
Moses pouts a little. "Oi! Is there something wrong with showin' a little brotherly affection?"
There is something needle-thin and sharp stuck in Jay's throat. He cannot speak properly. "I--there is when you're unclean," he manages, and bolts off.)
The same scene plays itself out week after week: Moses constantly running to meet a Jay who's perfectly capable of avoiding him, but never does. On the contrary. Every time without fail, Jay comes to the same place to be caught up to, as though guided by a force unseen and--not quite unknown.
He hates it: hates the warm tension thrumming under his skin, hates constantly wondering whether he's blushing, hates that it's Moses, stupid, happy, dogmatic Moses, who understands nothing and everything at the same time.
Jay never wanted to fall in love.
-o-
The hottest part of summer.
Beads of sweat form on Jay's face, sliding one-by-one down his chin. He reaches up slowly, languorously, to bat them away, but in this weather, it feels like a chore. In this weather, walking feels like a chore.
Solon squeezes his wrist and pulls him into a slightly run-down building on the side of the road, and Jay follows obediently as his master sidles up to the counter to converse with the shop's owner. With one ear, he listens to their discussion, devoting the rest of his energy to scanning the room for anyone watching them. (He doesn't fidget.) Thankfully, no one seems to be paying attention.
"...and you'll have the ice by tonight?" Solon says, pitching his voice slightly louder than before.
"O-of course," murmurs the man, mopping his brow with a towel. "Though you'll have to supply the containers yourself."
"That won't be a problem." Solon's eyes widen almost wickedly. "Just as long as you're on time. I've got some things I need to keep cold, you see. Very important! Now." Here he clasps his hands and turns towards Jay. "Open your mouth," he commands.
As soon as Jay does so, there are two fingers pressing on his chin, tilting his head up towards the ceiling; at the same time, Solon tips some sort of liquid (about half a mouthful, all told) into his mouth. "Swallow," he says, and Jay has never considered not obeying. It's water.
"There. That should be more than enough for the rest of the day, shouldn't it?" Solon's voice has changed; it is oddly steely now, his eyebrows raised towards the sky.
"Yes, sir," Jay says, and Solon's gaze is faintly approving, and Jay feels a little as though someone has just twisted a knife in his chest.
-o-
Shirley plucks a blade of grass from the ground, rubbing it absently between her fingers. "Hmm, is that Moses coming over here?" she wonders aloud.
"Where?" asks Jay, faintly alarmed. It is in fact Moses, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he lopes over towards them. Shirley waves cheerfully; Jay averts his eyes.
Moses clears his throat. "So, uh, hey," he says haltingly, glancing at Jay in a manner which for some reason causes the tempo of Jay's heartbeat to quicken. "I was wonderin' if...I mean, I thought we should talk. You know, have a bro--have a man-to-man chat. 'Cause we sure...need to discuss some things. So how 'bout it?"
This is the point where Jay knows his senses have utterly deserted him, because instead of taking the reasonable course of action and running like hell, he stands and says, "All right."
"If you want to talk, I'll leave you two alone," Shirley says, a small smile on her face as she exits.
Silence.
"Well, okay, then." Moses' hand once again flies to the back of his neck. "I guess I should start at the beginning, huh? A while back...I've been thinkin' for a while, and I kinda realized that...well, that..."
More silence. Jay breathes in and doesn't breathe out again.
"I kinda like you, okay? Not like a brother--uh, even though I said all that stuff--o-or like a friend, either. I like you like--okay, you know when a man and a woman love each other a whole lot, and they, uh, well, they...?"
Jay opens his mouth, but his brain isn't working well enough for him to do anything except hope faintly that his expression looks suitably disdainful.
Moses laughs nervously. "I guess--I guess I'm not sayin' this so well, huh? Look, maybe I should just show you--"
Jay realizes what Moses is going to do a second before he does it, and he makes no move to resist--but then suddenly Moses is right there, and Moses' hand is grasping his shoulder and Moses' lips are on his. Adrenaline shoots up Jay's spine--and then he is groping, groping blindly for Moses' shoulder and without knowing quite what he is doing, pushing him forcefully away. Moses stumbles backwards a few steps, eyes wide and face deathly pale, and the two of them stare at each other for a long while.
"H-hey," Moses starts. "I'm sor--"
Jay doesn't wait for him to finish; instead he takes one, two, three steps backward and runs.
-o-
"Did I say you were allowed to speak?"
Silence. Jay stares at the floor and lets the words wash over him. If he just stays quiet, he knows, there will be something. Something he can do...
"Well? When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer me. Did I?"
"No, sir...sorry, sir."
Solon speaks roughly, savagely. "Tell me, Jay," he hisses. "For whom do I do all this?"
Jay folds his hands and whispers, "For me, sir."
"Precisely." Solon paces back and forth in front of him, taking carefully measured steps. "I was the one who took you in when your parents abandoned you. I was the one who raised you. I gave you everything you have! You could live a thousand years and still be beholden to me."
A few seconds pass before Jay realizes Solon is waiting for something. "I--I understand, sir."
"It's a good thing that you're only my tool, really. You'll never have cause to do anything other than what I tell you." His lip curls upward in a sneer. "Do you love me, Jay?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. In that case--" a hand wraps around Jay's throat, forcing his head up-- "you can start paying back that debt of yours here and now! Get on your knees."
Jay takes a halting step back as soon as Solon releases him. "Master?"
The tone of Solon's voice is one that brooks no argument. "Do it."
-o-
A few moments before:
"Jay." Jay blinks, startled suddenly out of his reverie. Shirley is giving him a concerned glance. "Are you all right?" she asks him.
He doesn't meet her eyes. "As well as usual," he says. "Why wouldn't I be?"
She tilts her head. "You're too cautious sometimes," she muses. "I think maybe you'd be better off if you were more open."
"What?"
Now it is her turn to look away--or rather, look past him, over his shoulder. "Never mind," she says lightly. "Are you planning on making a wish?"
He picks up one of the scattered leaves between them. "There's no reason to. I...already have what I want."
She smiles. "It's the same for me. I've been lucky this year, and...besides, the things I want aren't things I can wish for." The smile fades, replaced by a more contemplative look. "I won't get peace by writing on leaves, even ones blessed by Nerifes."
Jay leans forward. "Will you be able to attain peace by any means?" he says sharply. "Honestly, I doubt it. You seem to think that things will work out if you want them to badly enough, but in the real world, that rarely happens. Simply put, you lack the conviction to accomplish your goals. You bend over backwards when you should stand your ground, you let others walk all over you instead of asserting yourself. How can you possibly expect to get anything done when you're like this?"
Shirley is silent for a long time. "You're right," she says finally. The smile has returned to her face. "It's never been easy for me to believe in myself. Even after all this time, I still struggle with doubt. What if I'm wrong? Is it really okay for me to say this? But...no one can live like that, and it won't get anything done. I want to change.
"And that's why...it's because I want to change so badly, because I want to become the person who can bring peace to the Ferines, that I'm doing this. I can't just give up. Every day, I try to be that person. I try to do the things that she would do and say the things that she would say. It's hard--and I'm not always sure I'm doing the right thing. But I can't give up, because if I keep doing this, if every day I make myself do the things that are hard, then someday they'll become easy.
"And every day I get a little closer to that."
Jay is staring at her, transfixed, as though someone has cast a spell on him. She has put him on the edge of something, he feels; there is a strange sensation on the tip of his tongue. He opens his mouth to speak--
Shirley looks up. "Hmm," she says, "is that Moses coming over here?"
-o-
He backs shakily against the wall, his chin perched in his knees, and doesn't care when the stone ridges of the cave dig into his back. His skin is cold and clammy; there is a strange taste in his mouth. He wraps his arms around himself and--
The sound of encroaching footsteps startles him, and his hands come down onto the cave floor, dirt and gravel making imprints on his palms. Solon stands above him with a faintly amused expression. "Oh, dear me. You poor, pathetic thing, you look simply terrible." A smile graces his face. "Were you afraid?"
Slowly, Jay lifts his eyes and nods.
The smile widens. "Good," Solon murmurs. His expression shifts. "Well, get over it. Your training begins in ten minutes, and I don't have any use for a weapon that can't fight properly."
Jay is silent for a moment, and then--"Yes, sir," he says softly.
"You shouldn't have sustained any major injuries, so--" Solon drops a pair of daggers at Jay's feet. "Take these and come outside. I expect you to put up a better showing than last time. Remember whom you owe your existence to."
Jay fixes his gaze on the daggers. It is a while before he will move to take them.
-o-
Four days pass after the incident with Moses, during which Jay leaves his room very little. There's not much point in it; there is nothing--really, really--that he could want or need to do. All the same, he doesn't sleep particularly well.
On the fifth day, someone comes knocking at his door. Jay's narrowed it down to three or four possible candidates by the time he crosses the room, none of whom he particularly wants to see, but he opens the door anyway.
As it turns out, it's Moses himself, shuffling his feet awkwardly and looking a bit more subdued than usual. Jay stares blankly at him. ('Are you really such a spineless coward that you can't muster up the courage to say anything?' a voice snaps at him, even as another part of him is murmuring, 'there's the window, you could just leave, if you go fast enough no one will catch you--')
"Uh. So." Moses attempts a sheepish smile, but that fades quickly. "I, uh, guess I should apologize or somethin'. C-cause I didn't mean t' upset you, you know--and I just wanted t' say that, and make sure you were okay, 'cause I--"
He takes a step forward, then, and Jay slams the door in his face.
"Jay! Damnit, Jay, will you just--"
Jay presses his palms flat against the door. "Shut up, bandit," he snarls. He pauses. "And--stay where you are."
If I make myself do the things that are hard, then someday they will become easy.
He takes a deep breath and begins to speak.
-o-
One moment, he is rushing at Solon, the next, lying flat on his back, and it is only his unrelenting grip that keeps the twin daggers in his hands.
"Get up," Solon says sharply. "Get up and do it again."
Slowly, Jay clambers into a crouching position. This time, he tries a different angle, twisting out of the way of Solon's elbow--only to feel something sharp slash through his side instead. He lands on all fours, eyes bulging and fingers digging into the soil; blood from his wound drips onto the ground.
"I'm sorry, did you think that would be better?" Solon smiles. It is not a pleasant smile. "Again."
-o-
"--and it wasn't terribly pleasant, you see. I didn't want--but that doesn't matter. It...wasn't terribly relevant, what I wanted."
Moses makes a pained noise from behind the door. At about half an hour in, he has stopped interrupting.
Jay's hand closes around his other wrist, middle finger pressed to thumb, squeezing. He doesn't really think about what he's saying. All he knows is that...if he stops talking, he might not be able to start again.
-o-
"Again."
Jay puts a hand on the ground to steady himself. His vision has begun to blur, and his limbs are shaking, but he has it this time, he thinks. If he can just pull this off, he'll have it, and Solon will be pleased, and then--then, maybe he can stop.
It is that thought that sends him diving back in with more energy than he should rightfully have. He manages to dodge all right, but just as he's about to strike, Solon turns around and takes hold of his shoulder. Jay stares at him with wide eyes.
And then Solon lets go, and Jay crashes to the ground, dropping his daggers in surprise.
"Haven't I told you not to do that?" Solon gives him an imperious look. "Are you really so dull you can't remember not to drop your weapons in the middle of a fight?"
"I'm--" Jay clutches his side. "I'm sorry...sir."
Solon shrugs. "Well, you've managed to accomplish what I wanted you to do, at least. Get up."
-o-
Jay concludes by reciting a long listing of all Moses' failings, some of which are only failings because they are not failings at all. When he stops, there is nothing but silence.
"Moses?" he says, hating the way he sounds.
"I'm here. I...heard you." Moses punches--Jay doesn't know what, but it is definitely something stationary. The door rattles. "Damnit, Jay--open the door!"
"No."
"Jay." Moses' voice is breaking. "I'm worried about you, you little punk--are you okay?"
Jay is only aware of feeling very much not like himself, but what he says is, "I'm fine, bandit."
A pause. "Like hell you are. Open the door."
"How many times do I have to tell you, bandit?" Jay grasps the doorknob with one hand. "I'm not opening it."
(Not yet.)
-o-
Shakily, Jay clambers to his feet; he manages to stay standing for only a moment before pitching forward against Solon, clutching the man's shirt.
"Oh, dear me," Solon murmurs. "You certainly don't seem to be in very good condition. Are you hurt?"
"I-I'm bleeding, sir."
"Well. That's just terrible, isn't it?" All of a sudden, Solon wrests Jay's hands from his clothing and throws him roughly backwards. "I'll call a healer.
"Keep in mind that I don't tolerate weakness," he calls over his shoulder, as he walks away. "You'll have to do better than that next time."
"I...understand." Jay closes his eyes and mumbles, "Thank you, sir."
-o-
He is aware of the sensation a while before he actually registers it; his forehead is apparently being pelted with small, round objects,. He opens one eye to see Norma's face right up against his; she is in the middle of flicking peanuts at him. "About time, JJ," she huffs. "It was getting to be a snorefest. C took Ellie away and there was no one to tease. Do you know how annoying that is?"
Jay blinks. "--what?"
"You fell asleep," Moses murmurs. A vague horror suddenly dawns upon Jay as he realizes that what he's currently leaning on is Moses' shoulder. He leaps away with a yelp.
"Eep!" Behind him, Shirley crashes to the floor, inadvertently tugging on his hair in the process. Evidently, she'd been clinging to it.
"Sorry about that," Jay says sheepishly, putting out a hand to help her up. "...wait. What exactly were you doing with my hair?" Now that he thinks about it, it's down from its usual ponytail--and he certainly hadn't been doing anything to it.
"Ah," replies Shirley, "ah, well...I was braiding it." Her lips twitch ever so slightly. "Norma suggested it, and...it sounded like fun, so--"
"Y-you were doing what?" Jay's hands fly automatically to his head; he sputters incoherently as Moses collapses, laughing, and Shirley brings her hand up to her mouth to hide her mirth. "You--!"
It occurs to him that there are about ten things, starting with falling asleep on Moses and ending with the hair-braiding, that he should never have let happen tonight. Somehow, however--maybe it's the late hour--he can't bring himself to be too upset about it. Well, upset at himself, anyway; he has no problem affixing Moses and Shirley with an appropriately severe glare.
"Norma," he says, though the girl in question is still howling into her shoulder. "I'll be taking those peanuts, if you don't mind. I think I've found a more fitting use for them."
(The hour hand of the clock points resolutely between three and four.)
-o-
There is a boy lying sprawled out and unconscious at the side of the road here; his breathing is labored and his body covered with blood; his spirit is broken and his purpose scattered to the winds.
He is battered and bruised, hurt, dying, alone; he thinks this is the end. But he is wrong about that: it is really a beginning.
-o-
"Oi, Jay! Over here!" Moses stands at the entrance to the Oresoren village, waving his arms about wildly like the utter lunatic he is. In his hand he clutches a small package wrapped in brown paper.
Jay makes sure to assume a suitably irritated expression before walking over. "What is it this time, bandit? I was hoping to be rid of you for a few days, you know."
"Oi! That ain't nice." Moses' chin is held high in a display of utter self-righteousness. "I come here all carin' like, wantin' to see you, and you tell me to get lost..."
"That's because you're a nuisance, bandit," Jay retorts smoothly. "Get to the point. What are you here for?"
"Oh! Oh, yeah. Shirley got something for you." Moses holds out the package. "Said she saw it and thought of you, and, uh, I kind of got stuck with--"
Jay snorts. "Have you been relegated to messenger boy now?" he taunts. Try as he might (well, maybe he's not trying too hard), he can't quite keep the smirk off his lips. "Well, I suppose it's a fitting role for you..."
"Bastard." Moses pronounces the word--accompanied by an exaggerated eyeroll--without any real venom. "She, uh. Said if someone had to come down here, it should be me and... well, I figured it wasn't such a bad idea." He pauses. "Come on, now. Will you just take it already?"
As Jay takes the package, it jangles slightly. His eyes widen. Carefully, he unwinds the string around the wrapping.
It is a long string of jingle bells, as Jay realized it must be as soon as it touched his hands. For a moment, he wonders blindly how Shirley knew. "Well," he says. "That's--no, it won't work here. Outside." He strides purposefully out towards the sunlight.
Moses follows him after a moment. "Jay, what're you doin'?"
"It's a long story." Jay hesitates before offering, "Perhaps I'll even tell you someday, bandit." He reaches up and, in a fit of impulsiveness, fastens the end of the string around an overhanging branch.
Moses glances over at him curiously. If this were another day, Jay might scowl; today he lets his face soften into something that is almost a smile. The wind picks up just then, brushing strands of his hair gently away from his face, and Jay tilts his head and listens to the sound of the bells in the breeze.