Disclaimer: Toya and Len belong to me.
A/N: Welcome to the follow-on from Hidden! For some time now, I've wanted to write a little something about Taryn's time in the orphanage and the relationship she has with Toya.
As I mentioned on Hidden, all stories with ~ CATALYST ~ in the synopsis are part of my AU Jak/Taryn saga.
One ~
Toya stood before the window, peering out at the passers-by that slowly meandered through the Slums section of the city. With dark, cloudy skies and the first spattering of rain, Haven appeared as it ever had – melancholic and artificial. Even clad in multiple layers of green fabric – a matching set of full-length skirt, short-sleeved blouse and heavy coat – she felt the grim chill of early Autumn weather seeped into the orphanage through cracks and holes in dire need of repair. It was a remnant dating back three generations of Kings, constructed of a combination of Precursor salvage and, more recently, concrete, all of its rooms laid out on the ground floor. Sadly, Damas' forced abdication meant the structure had been left to gradually collapse. Restoration clearly wasn't at the forefront of Praxis' policies.
Said woman wondered if his blight upon the city would ever cease. Things grew worse with each passing day, as did people's stories, and her connection to the rising resistance movement provided vital information on the various goings on. Her role as head of the orphanage was threatened. If she was ever caught…well, her mind pondered if the risk was worth her children's futures.
Feeling her chest tightening, the amber-haired female decided upon a leisurely stroll through the building, to both distract the mind and ease the conscience with the pleasant sight of her innocent wards peacefully slumbering in their beds. The hallway she traversed was three feet wide, with tall, white ceilings, dark brown woodwork and magnolia walls covered in numerous, neatly-arranged paintings and a couple of mirrors either side. Lights, in Old World-style oil lamps, hung from the upper portions and provided a gentle glow to the area. Right now, only half were lit.
She continued soundlessly through the labyrinth of passages that led through the house. The years had taught her to be silent with her footsteps, meaning she could enter each area without waking the children.
As promised to a friend almost a decade ago, she entered a bedroom situated in the West wing to check on a certain mischievous little girl; something performed every evening. Toya paused at the doorway and studied the layout – a pair of bunk beds against two of the walls farthest from her, with a small, oak bookcase and a chest of drawers against the third. Near the door was a matching toy box. She advanced and carefully climbed the ladder to one of the bunk beds and peered over.
Her face dropped. Instead of a mop of blue hair, Toya was astonished to discover it empty. As with any good mother, a wave of intense worry overcame her. She slipped down the ladder and quickly hurried out of the room, back through the corridor.
To be extra-safe, each section of the house was checked…but no sign of the child. The hunt continued for almost half an hour, anxiety becoming more unbearable, with every second the eight year old didn't appear. There really weren't many places to hide. Baffling.
The final room to search, situated in the North-East wing, was the second-largest of the house (the biggest being the aptly-named messhall), that she had transformed into a library-come-playroom. Unlike the rest of the building, it didn't have the same colour scheme of white, brown and magnolia, but was instead given a bright colour for each wall – the baby blue one of which was entirely covered in drawings pinned to numerous cork noticeboards. The rest of the room consisted of (not surprisingly) dozens of shelves, crammed with books of all kinds, from geography to dot-to-dot. The centre expanse was mostly clear; however, during the day, it often became cluttered by art supplies, more toy boxes and even a miniature climbing frame that the children could put together.
If she's not here… Toya muttered to herself, treading with louder steps across the thick carpet. That thought did not bear consideration.
Fortunately, the woman's silver eyes settled upon the distinct blue pigtails belonging to the little girl curled up at the far end of the room. Books were scattered all around the latter, a single, small travelling lamp directly in front of her, and she wore only her long-sleeved red top and a pair of charcoal jeans. Although the room felt cold, the eight year old didn't shiver, mind utterly oblivious to the rest of the world.
Without causing a disturbance, the red-head headed back and towards her office at high speed. She spotted a pair of blankets hanging on the back of her desk chair, so quickly collected them and hastily returned to the playroom. Ensuring her footsteps were audible (although the child didn't react), she approached, pausing only at the edge of the circle of tomes. From that angle, she could read the title of the book currently being read by the orphan – The Flora And Fauna Of Haven City And The Wasteland. A frown crossed the woman's features at how said novel had managed to travel from her desk to here, but she felt it wasn't the right time for berating.
"Taryn?" she called, loudly enough to not be ignored. The little girl immediately peered up, frozen to the spot, obvious trepidation and fatigue painted on her countenance.
Likely a nightmare, Toya surmised, wrapping a blanket around herself and settling onto the floor, cross-legged and spine resting against the bookshelf. "What are you doing here, at this time of night?"
Taryn flinched ever so slightly, placed on edge and subsequently irritated by the question. Yet she understood from her custodian's stare that they were here to stay, either until the truth was admitted or the child returned to bed – ideally both. It was time to drop the attitude. "I can't sleep."
"I can see that," the red-head replied, smiling a little and offering the other blanket. The eight year old pushed herself up into a kneeling position and curled up in it, before her brow furrowed, unsure if Toya's words were sarcastic or sincere.
"I had a nightmare."
"What was it about?"
"Two boys were telling me stories."
"About-?"
Awkward, Taryn averted her gaze. "Metal Heads."
Toya huffed, able to guess those responsible. She would have a talk with them the following morning. With a gentler disposition, she returned her attention to the little one at her side, who observed with large, green optics so full of fear.
"Are they real?" came the naïve enquiry.
"Metal Heads?" the red-head asked to clarify, and was given a nod in response, so spent a moment deciding whether to lie or tell the truth. It was understandably difficult to make; finally, she chose the honest path. There were ways to ease worries of being attacked by monsters in the darkness. "Yes, they're real."
The blue-haired orphan shuddered, more tightly clutching her blanket to her skinny frame for comfort. Still, the woman had no regrets, and further elaborated. "They can't get into the city. There's a powerful shield that protects us all. It's made of Eco – that energy I told you about."
"That makes up the world?" Recalling that piece of information cheered the girl up and offered her a sense of pride that was currently sorely lacking.
"Exactly." Toya sounded approving. Years spent studying Eco theory as a teenager taught her a great many things about how that curious energy worked – something she thought wise to share. It had been long before becoming chief administrator and working directly under Count Veger. Then, more recently, she retired from that well-paid occupation, spending her life's savings on purchasing the orphanage to protect the lost children of soldiers who died during the war. Some considered it an odd move, but the suspicions thankfully ended there.
On one occasion, the Krimzon Guard had entered the building for a routine inspection, and began asking pointed questions about Taryn. The red-head conjured a phony file to accompany her story, stating that the little girl was the daughter of some deceased army bigwig. The Baron and his forces had little interest in those already dead and buried, who could no longer pose a threat.
"The nightmares won't stop," the eight year old whispered, breaking through that nostalgic reverie. Her custodian understood it was a plea to stay up longer, so complied.
"What are you reading about?"
"Crocadogs."
"Ah. Good animals. Strong and loyal. Did you know they were originally from the Wasteland? Wild and dangerous creatures, but the descendants of Mar managed to tame them and transformed them into protectors."
"Whoa…"
"Yep. They symbolise not only strength and protection, but incredible loyalty. It was said that you couldn't find a closer bond between man and animal. And every heir of Mar was given a crocadog pup. They'd grow up together and form this bond. Crocadogs were also said to keep the darkness away and ensure their handler's heart was never corrupted."
"Wait…the book doesn't say anything about that!" Taryn challenged.
Toya simply chortled. "No, I don't suppose it does. That book is more scientific…but what I'm talking about is the spiritual side."
The blue-haired individual somewhat comprehended such meaning. Perhaps the science was a tad more trustworthy than a fable, but it was nice to believe that those large, green canine-reptilian beasts would shield her from the terrors of the night. Want my own 'Dog, she thought. "Would they get rid of my dreams?"
"Should do. A big crocadog spirit sitting at the foot of your bed and keeping anything nasty away. It gobbles up all those nightmares. Gobble, gobble, gobble!" The red-head leant forward and made such noises, tickling the child's neck and causing squeals of laughter.
When the pair eventually settled down, the eight year old chose to own up to her crime. "I…I took your book." She stared down at her lap and twiddled her thumbs.
Toya felt no anger at that confession. "Don't worry about it. You're obviously putting it to good use. Keep it with you until you've finished. Then just put it back on my desk."
"Thanks," the child sheepishly muttered, clutching the literature to her chest. Then, with a bite of her bottom lip, she realised it was time to sleep. With more confidence than felt, she said, "I'm ready to go back."
"Alright." The woman rose to her feet, knees cracking as she straightened up and legs aching from cramp. The girl did the same, holding both book and blanket, unsteadily moving away from the shelves and refusing any adult assistance. She paused for a second, craning her neck to peer at novels scattered across the floor.
"Don't worry about them. I'll tidy them up."
"Oh…okay."
Together, they moved from the playroom and into the corridor, back to Taryn's sleeping quarters. She shared the room with three other girls, of five, nine and eleven – at least she wasn't alone in the darkness. Inside, there was a pair of bunk beds. Toya paused in the doorway, taking back the blanket, whilst the child trundled over and climbed the wooden ladder to the top bunk, slipping the novel under her pillow for safekeeping, then snuggling into a foetal ball within the duvet.
The woman watched, then whispered, "Good night…and sweet dreams."
Taryn repeated the phrase and lowered her eyelids, determined to sleep at last. All too soon, gentle snores drifted from her lips. Satisfied, Toya sauntered away, closing the door behind her.
Once in her office, the red-head slung the blankets over a chair at her large, oak desk, then stood before the window again. The next few days would be long, in multiple ways, but there was hope that even a sliver of what she had said would ease the little girl's fear.
And those two boys wouldn't tell any spooky stories again.
An entire week passed, before the woman spotted the blue-haired orphan in the same spot as before – this time during the day, which was a relief. It appeared the latter constantly felt the desire for knowledge, be it wildlife, electronics or mechanics.
However, Taryn appeared less absorbed by a book this time, immediately noticing her carer's approach…and that the latter had one arm behind their back, which seemed suspicious. She pointed a slender finger. "What's that there?"
"It's a gift for you," Toya grinned, holding up a stuffed crocadog. The girl's face lit up. As much as anyone, she enjoyed receiving presents. So far, a few origami animals created during an arts and craft session were all she had, but they were treasured; size of expense did not alter their worth.
Without hesitation, Taryn accepted it and gave the plush toy an experimental squeeze. It was firm, obviously stuffed to the brim, before being stitched. The alternating beige and green fabric felt soft, almost downy, but thick – perhaps something that would weather well over the years. She thumbed its fringe, the texture almost that of real hair. There were big, black pieces of plastic for eyes and a piece of dark brown leather for its nose. "Thank you. I love it."
"You're welcome. Now you have your very own guardian."
"Yeah…I do…"
It became clear that the eight year old had become absorbed in her gift and what it represented, so Toya offered a final glance and smile, before heading off and outside for some much-needed fresh air.