Hello! It's me again.
My friend, Bella, always gives me writing prompts. And she decided to give me this prompt: create two exorcists. One has to be at least partially mute, but she loves to sing. And pair that one with Neah.
That was literally the entirety of the prompt. Two exorcists, one a mute singer (what?), and one of them has to wind up in a relationship with Neah.
I had free reign over everything else.
The title, "Devil's Backbone," comes from the song of the same name, by the Civil Wars. I don't own the rights to the song.
The song that I used for this chapter title, "Into a Fantasy," belongs to Alexander Rybak.
Of course, I do not own D. Gray-Man, either. Anything that you recognize from D. Gray-Man belongs to Katsura Hoshino.
However, the story of Devil's Backbone is set as early as 50 years before the canon begins, so that means this story is going to have many, many original characters. Any characters or plot you do not recognize belongs to me.
If you don't like OCs, this is not the story for you. However, I did try hard to create a set of compelling characters and I would greatly appreciate if you gave them a shot.
In fact, if you want a good idea of how many OCs this story is going to have, then consider this: In all, by the end of this story, maybe ten characters will actually be Hoshino's.
Consider that your warning.
Edit: I literally screamed in terror as I published this chapter. I have never felt that sick before. What's wrong with me?
Another edit: This hasn't been proofread by anyone but myself. Sorry if it seems unpolished.
Third edit: I went through and did some minor editing, but I only skimmed through. There could still be a lot of mistakes.
On another note, if you came expecting Neah right off the bat, he isn't going to show up for a little while.
Into a Fantasy
"We can fly all day long
Show me the world
Sing me a song
Tell me what the future holds
You and me will paint it all in gold!"
-Alexander Rybak
"Girls!"
Molly glanced back towards her daughters as they suddenly scrambled from their seats. "Careful, you two!" she called. "Taryn, don't run! You just got better! I don't want you gettin' sick again!"
The birght-eyed girl stopped in the doorway, her twin sister stopping just outside. "Yes, Mama!" she agreed.
"Girls!" their father's voice called again.
"Comin', Papa!" the dark-eyed twin shouted. She pushed her twin gently to get her attention. "C'mon, Taryn, let's go!"
Taryn whirled as her sister took off. "Charlotte!" she shouted, her voice still scratchy from the recent cough she'd had. She hurried after her sister. "Wait up!"
Molly smiled, shaking her head at her daughters' antics.
Charlotte paused to wait for her twin before she hurried towards the mew where their father kept his falcons.
The brunette greeted them at the entrance, wearing an unreadable expression that they decided they didn't like.
Jackson held something in his hands. As the girls approached, he crouched. "Remember that egg you were worried about?" he said to Taryn.
Taryn frowned. "Yeah. Why?"
He held out his hands, which were cupping a tan, speckled egg. "She's rejectin' it," he said.
Taryn furrowed her brow. "Why would she do that? She can't!" she exclaimed.
Her father glanced down at her. "Something could be wrong with the chick," he said.
"But what if there isn't?" Taryn pressed, regarding her father with wide, horrified eyes. "What if Dove's wrong and it's fine?"
"Birds just have a way of knowin' these things, Taryn," her father pressed.
"But Papa, Taryn's right!" Charlotte drawled, her eyes wide and pleading as she stared at her father. "What if Dove's wrong?"
He might've chuckled if his daughters weren't so upset by the situation. This was beginning to get redundant. "Tell you what," he began, and couldn't stop the smile that crossed his face when they perked up with hope in their eyes. "We'll try to incubate the egg ourselves for a few more days."
Taryn beamed. "When it hatches, I wanna train it instead if the first hatched!" she declared.
"If it hatches, you can train it," he agreed. He held out his hands to his bright-eyed twin, offering her the rejected egg. "Here, since you're gonna train it, you get to be in charge of takin' care of it, too."
Taryn beamed as she took the egg, cradling it close to her chest.
"We're gonna have to incubate the egg," Jackson went on. "Take it up to the house, I'll be right there."
The twins squealed in excitement and took off up the hill towards the house.
The man laughed at their enthusiasm, watching them go for a moment. Then he turned back at the mew, his eyes settling on the white gyrfalcon who was poking her head out of her nest box, ignoring the shrieking of her other chicks for the time being.
Dove clicked her beak, giving a few short screeches. She twisted her head slightly and fluttered her wings.
"For her sake, I hope you were wrong," he told the bird. "She's countin' on that egg hatchin'."
Dove clicked her beak once more and then ducked back inside her box.
The falconer frowned.
There was a sense of finality in the gyrfalcon's actions. Regardless of whether or not the egg hatched, Dove would have nothing to do with it. Unless Taryn could figure out a way to teach a bird to fly, Dove's actions were essentially a death sentence.
He turned and followed after his daughters, frowning as he contemplated what would become of the egg.
"Don't run, Taryn!" his wife called down from the house, drawing him from his thoughts. "You only just got better! I don't want you getting sick again!"
"Yes, Mama!" Taryn called, slowing down just a little.
Charlotte giggled as she matched her sister's pace.
When he got to the house, his wife sighed at him, "What did you say to them to get them so excited, Jackson?"
Jackson grinned sheepishly. "Dove turned away one of her eggs," he said. "You shoulda seen their faces. I just couldn't bare to tell them we had to get rid of it."
"So… what does that mean?"
"I'm gonna let them incubate it for a few days longer, see if maybe Dove was wrong," Jackson told her.
"Don't go getting their hopes up like that. Dove's never been wrong before."
"It won't hurt to give it a shot."
"Jack."
"Just this once, Molly."
The blonde woman made a face at her husband before she let out a long-suffering sigh. "Alright, but I wish you wouldn't encourage them like that," she said. "Hunting! It's not something a lady ought to be doing!"
"Nonsense!" he replied confidently. "The Greeks had a goddess of the hunt! If they had a goddess for it, why can't two little girls learn about it? Anyways, it makes 'em happy!"
Molly looked exasperated. "It's dangerous, Jack!" she insisted. "They'll get hurt!" Then her voice dropped. "And Taryn's already weak. Everytime she so much as gets a scrape, she gets sick!"
"Then huntin' will toughen her up," Jackson insisted. "And I'll teach 'em how to do it so they don't get hurt. I promise, Molly."
Molly stared at him for several long moments before she threw her arms up. "Fine!" she huffed. "But only 'cause it makes them happy. Y'hear?"
Jackson grinned. "Of course."
As they stepped into the house after their rambunctious twins, Molly shot him a small smile, shaking her head in exasperation.
At once Charlotte's voice greeted them. "Papa?"
"Yes, Lottie?" he answered, turning to face his daughters.
She made a face at the nickname, but pressed on, "How do we take care of an egg?"
Jack chuckled, "You mean incubate it?"
"Yeah, that," Charlotte answered. "How?"
"Well, first we're gonna need a small box and some cloth."
-X-
An old folk song flowed through the air as mother and daughters sat in the kitchen, each of them singing with each other.
Suddenly Charlotte stopped singing. "Mama?" she said.
"Yes, Charlotte?" Molly answered patiently.
"When d'you think Papa'll get back from town?"
Molly hummed as she brushed Charlotte's hair. "Should be some time today," she answered. "Why are you so anxious?"
The girl shifted. "I don't know," she murmured. "Just am, I guess."
Taryn giggled from where she sat across the table. "Papa said he had a bow made for Charlotte," she said. "He's gonna teach her archery just like he's gonna teach me falconry."
Molly shook her head, only vaguely amused. "Girls, I know you're excited, but I want you both to promise me something, okay?" she said.
"Yes, Mama?" Charlotte questioned.
"I want you to be real careful," Molly insisted. "Whatever your Papa tells you to do, you listen, alright? Huntin's dangerous and if something happened to you two, we'd be lost. Alright? Can you promise me that?"
"Yes, Mama," the twins chorused.
Molly smiled. "Thank you, girls," she said. She began to pull Charlotte's hair back, her fingers working nimbly to weave it into a braid. She was only halfway done when a muffled squeaking came from the small box set on the wood stove.
All three looked towards the sound.
Then Taryn gave an excited squeal. "He's hatchin'!" she exclaimed. "I knew he would!"
"Well, I'll be damned," Molly muttered.
"That's not ladylike, Mama," Charlotte teased.
Molly paused. Then she chuckled. "You're right," she agreed. "Never say that."
Charlotte giggled.
"Taryn, pull the box off the stove," Molly instructed her other daughter as she went back to braiding Charlotte's hair. "We don't want him overheating."
Taryn nodded and hopped down from her seat, scurrying over to the wood stove. She carefully pulled the box down.
"Set it on the floor next to the stove," Molly said. "That way it'll still be warm enough for the chick, but he won't get too hot."
"I thought you didn't like hunting, Mama?" Charlotte questioned as her sister lowered the box to the floor.
The muffled chirping got a little louder.
"Just 'cause I don't like it doesn't mean I don't know anything about it," Molly pointed out, amused. "Your father had to incubate a whole nest of eggs when the mother died once. I remember a thing or two."
Taryn blinked owlishly. "Really? What happened to the eggs?"
"Most of them hatched," Molly told her. "Only two of them survived, though. We found out the hard way that chicks can overheat."
"What about the other two?"
"Dove was one of 'em. Your father trained the other one and sold her to a falconer up in D.C."
"They can be sold?" Charlotte asked.
"Yep." Molly smiled. "Lots of people depend on hunting to feed their families, so a trained falcon can be valuable."
"Papa's not gonna sell this one, is he?" Taryn asked, alarmed.
"No, Taryn, that one's yours," Molly assured her.
Taryn made a face before she nodded. "How long do you think it'll be until he's done hatching?" she asked.
"Could be a few hours," Molly said. "It takes time."
A particularly loud chirp came from the egg nestled in the makeshift incubator.
"Noisy little fella, ain't he?" Molly chuckled. "Just like his mama."
"Dove's not noisy, though," Charlotte pointed out.
"Taryn's gonna raise him. She's gonna be his mama."
"Oh. Taryn is pretty noisy," Charlotte giggled.
"Hey!" Taryn protested.
Her sister and her mother both started to laugh while Taryn pouted at them.
Later that day, when the sun was beginning to set, Jackson returned, carrying a bow as promised.
The weapon was, of course, rather tiny, but it looked full-size in Charlotte's eager hands. It was a simple thing, the wood polished but otherwise undecorated.
Despite the simplicity of the gift, Charlotte was delighted.
"Don't play with that in the house, Charlotte!" Molly chided as her daughter tugged on the string experimentally.
"She doesn't have an arrow nocked, Molly," Jackson pointed out.
"Don't encourage her!" Molly huffed, brandishing a ladle at him.
He held up his hands as if to placate her, looking suitably badgered.
The twins giggled as they watched.
Then Charlotte nudged Taryn. "Show 'im!" she urged. "Papa's gotta see!"
"See what?" Jackson questioned, turning to the girls.
Taryn hopped up and ran over to where she'd set the bow. "He hatched!" she told her father as she knelt down.
"Did he?" Jackson questioned as he followed after her. He crouched down and gently shift some of the cloth away, revealing a small bundle of white fluff, which squirmed slowly, barely raising its head. "Well, would you look at that. Are you sure he's a boy?"
Taryn pursed her lips. "I don't know," she said.
Jackson chuckled at her before he carefully reached in and lifted the chick, turning it. "He is," he confirmed after a long moment. He held the chick out to his daughter, who took him carefully, cradling him. "How long ago did he hatch?"
"A few hours ago," Molly answered. "He took a little longer to hatch, too."
"He's not deformed," Jackson noted. "But he is a little weak." He eyed his daughter. "Are you sure he's the one?"
Taryn held the chick closer to her chest, nodding determinedly. "He's gonna be stronger and faster than Dove when I'm done with him!" she declared. "That'll show her!"
Jackson chuckled, ruffling her hair. "I'm sure he'll do great," he agreed. "What're you going to name him?"
Taryn beamed at him. "Pax!" she blurted.
Her parents regarded her with surprise.
"Where'd you hear that word?" Molly questioned.
"I dunno," Taryn answered with a shrug. "But I like it."
"It's Latin," Molly said. "It means peace. I don't know where you would've heard it from, though."
"It's a good name," Jackson added, chuckling. "Strong, just like you're gonna make him."
Taryn smiled broadly, delighted, and Charlotte began to giggle.
-X-
"C'mon, Pax! You can do it!"
It'd been forty days since the weak chick had hatched. His siblings had already begun fledging. Without a parent as reference, however, Pax had no way to learn to fly—and there would be no help from Dove, either.
Dove had attacked the juvenile last time he'd wandered too close to the nest, something which was very out of character for the normally docile female.
Taryn was determined to get him airborne, though.
Charlotte giggled as she watched her sister running around like a maniac, waving her arms like they were wings.
As ridiculous as it looked, the girl was getting results.
Well, sort of.
Pax was chasing after her, shrieking and screaming the whole way. He hopped along after her, waving his wings eagerly.
He'd managed to get himself airborne, but he was so startled by it that he'd immediately crashed.
Charlotte giggled again, watching as her sister tripped and disappeared in the tall grass.
Pax screeched as he leaped again. This time he actually managed a short glide, only to crash into Taryn as she sat up.
Taryn went down again, but she burst into laughter as Pax landed, sprawling across her torso. "You flew!" she cheered enthusiastically as she picked him up and leaped to her feet.
Pax gave an enthused screech of his own, squirming out of her hands and hauling himself up onto her shoulders, which was a comical sight to behold, considering he was nearly as big as the little girl.
"What's all the ruckus about?"
Charlotte and Taryn perked up, turning to looking at their father.
"Ah! Papa!" Taryn giggled. "Pax flew!" Then she looked sheepish. "Well, only a few feet, but still! He flew!"
Jackson adopted a surprised expression before he burst into laughter. "Well, you're doing a good job, Taryn," he said. "Soon he'll be flying just as high as the others."
"Higher!" Taryn insisted as Pax nuzzled her with his beak. "Pax is gonna be the best!"
Pax gave a loud screech. Then he leaped from Taryn's shoulder, nearly knocking the seven-year-old off her feet with the force of his jump. His wings flapped and, rather than falling, he flew low over the grass.
"I think he's gonna do great," Jackson said, chuckling as he watched the gyrfalcon fly in a wide arc out across the yard before he returned to Taryn.
Taryn raised her gloved arm to the gyrfalcon, who landed on her wrist. Once again, due to his size, he nearly knocked her over, but Taryn stayed on her feet. She beamed at the white gyrfalcon, enthused. "I'm gonna make sure of it!" she vowed.
Charlotte perked up and looked up at her father with determination in her eyes. "We're gonna be the best hunters you ever saw, Papa!" she declared confidently. "Ain't anyone who's ever gonna be better than us! We'll make you and Mama proud!"
Jackson smiled, resting a hand on her head. "You ain't gotta try, Lottie. We're already proud of you."
This is the first chapter and I am very slightly terrified of posting this story, eek.
Some things to note:
I am not a falconer. But I have done quite a bit of research on the practice and have several falconry websites and videos saved for reference, which I consult fairly regularly.
That being said, I made a terrible mistake when I first started writing this story. By the time I'd realized my mistake, it was already ingrained so deeply in my mind that I couldn't change it (I did try, I promise). The twins were born in northern Virginia to a poor huntsman and his wife. Said huntsman is both a falconer and an archer; he keeps gyrfalcons. In fact, he makes his income off of training and selling them, since they're highly prized birds.
Gyrfalcons do not do well in heat. They do best in cooler climates (in fact, colder). I'm sure that in modern times, with a proper mew (which is best described as a shed designed specifically to keep falconry birds) built, keeping a gyrfalcon south of its typical region would be okay. Maybe not the best thing to do, but it'd be okay. However, in the 1840s, it probably wasn't a good idea to keep them as far south as Virginia.
Whoops. My bad.
That being said, there are accounts of desert natives holding people ransom in exchange for gyrfalcons, so maybe there were sophisticated enough methods back then to maintain birds outside of their range. I don't know for sure. Like I said, I'm not an expert. I'm just pretending to be
Suspension of belief, my dears. Isn't it marvelous?
Mmh, okay, now that that's out of the way: I'm probably not going to have a regular updating schedule. If I do, it probably won't come about until around chapter 10. Chapters 5-7 aren't cooperating with me and I like to have several chapters written before I update again.