Hi all! I've not read around The Village FF at all so I'm sure this has been done to death but just my own spin. May add a few chapters as I go, but as it stands this is a one shot. Love this film and after a recent rewatch, I just couldn't not write a small piece of (what I imagine to be) their story. Enjoy!
She loved to run. The wind made the curls in her hair become even more tangled and her eyes water, but the freedom Ivy Walker felt when running remained unrivalled. She was equal to the others, this way. In fact, there were many occasions in which she surpassed them. As long as she knew the route they would run, she could do it as quick as the fastest boys. Sometimes, when the boys decided they did not want to be embarrassed (being outrun by a blind girl led to this emotion in some of the less content boys), they would run a route that was not common - one Ivy did not know - just so they could win. She used to attempt to run it anyway, using her walking stick more, but after the third time she fell over - the time she'd cut her legs so badly her father had made her stay in bed for two days - she stopped. She'd 'sit that one out,' as her father phrased it. It used to upset her, feeling like she was less, was not fit to join in… until Lucius Hunt had sat with her that one day.
Lucius was a strange boy. He had friends, other boys who would sit with him and talk to him on occasion, but he was, for the most part, a quiet child. Contemplative. He was not rude in his silence, but while other boys, or indeed girls, would fill silence with chatter, he remained quiet, seemingly comfortable in that state. But for the most part, he kept to himself and the handful of friends he had.
It puzzled Ivy, then, when he sat with her. No words were spoken but she'd grown used to his smell, his breathing, as she had with most of the people in their village, so she knew it was him. More than that, though, Lucius gave off a colour. Her Papa and her sister gave off a haze, also, but Lucius was the first outside of her family. Noah, a young boy who struggled to articulate himself like others, gave off a glow, as opposed to a colour, but she'd never told him. She was one of the only people in Covington who could calm Noah down and she did not want to excite him, or embarrass him, by letting him know that he was special in her eyes.
Ivy had looked over to her new companion, two years older than her own six years, and smiled. "I did not want to run today."
Strangely, she knew that he knew she was lying. She didn't want to seem to be complaining, or childish, in her dissatisfaction of being shunned. People pitied her enough that she never wanted to make it worse.
But still, he had nodded, the sound making a scratching noise against his collar that Ivy recognised. And though no more words were spoken, Lucius' presence made Ivy feel contented. She was not left out anymore.
The next day, the boys had once again decided to run a route that Ivy did not know as well. The exhilarated smile that had been on her face as they'd ran out of school, Kitty running off to play with her older friends, had dimmed as she realised the boys did not want to play with her. She heard their laughter drift off, heard their footsteps run away too quickly for her when there were so many rocks in her way, so many pathways and people. She was quick, but she could only go so fast. She put her hand forward, a trick she'd learnt after she'd walked straight into a tree branch that her stick obviously hadn't picked up on, and tried to quickly count her steps in the direction the boys were going, trying to orient herself.
Eleven, twelve, thirteen - past the church and the bakery - seventeen…
A hand had grasped hers. Occasionally, her Papa helped her, when there were too many people or it was a new building, or uneven terrain, but nobody - not even Kitty or Noah - guided her. They did not want that responsibility.
Apparently, Lucius Hunt did.
His grip was cool and firm and a part of Ivy sighed in relief. The other boys had left her, her sister was nowhere to be found, but Lucius was there. He'd not left her.
His hand held tightly onto hers and had led her towards the laughing boys, to the edge of town where the grassy floor gave way to twigs, branches and muddier terrain - Covington Woods. The Forbidden Place. Where They lived. The other people they shared their home with - the monsters. Ivy was a brave girl, would never be scared of silly things like spiders or coyotes, but the Woods did scare her. The older boys would play a game, where they would stand on the Stump with their backs to the Woods and they would wait. The person who waited the longest won. It sounded simple, but the noises that came from the Woods, the creaks, the snapping of branches - you knew you were being watched. That They were watching you. And so the boys would run, their hearts beating too quickly and their breathing shaky. And the next day, Ivy had been told that they would be covered in the Good Colour to try to appease the monsters.
The boys had ignored their new companions and Lucius had simply sat Ivy and himself on a rock towards the edge, so that Ivy could've joined them if she wanted to.
She didn't. She wanted to stay with him, the boy who had guided her, had helped her, had kept her company when she needed a friend.
When the boys got quiet, incomprehensible whispering clouding Ivy's hearing, she felt Lucius get tense as though he knew what was coming.
"She shouldn't be here," she had heard Jamison Clarke hiss, his voice sounding more scared than angry.
Ivy, never one to mind her business, addressed them in a loud and clear voice. "Why should I not? I am allowed here just as you are, Jamison Clarke."
She heard Finton Coin slap Jamison lightly, and warn him against speaking again. All she heard in Jamison's reply was "hair" and "Bad Colour" and she knew their problem. Her hair, though a strange colour that encompassed all shades at once on occasion, had grown particularly red in the sunshine they'd been enjoying. She had heard her Mama mentioning it to her Papa, who had disregarded it, but she had heard the hint of worry in her mother's voice.
"Ignore them," came the quiet but sure voice next to her. "It is not as red as they say."
"You do not think I will attract Them? That I should be hidden?" Her voice had been playful, but hidden beneath was a tremor of fear - she did not want to endanger her village simply because her hair may have attracted the Others.
"I do not think they would attack our home because of your hair." Coming from anyone else, those words would have seemed hurtful, as though they were disregarding her worries or her opinions. Coming from Lucius, they seemed gentle and reassuring.
A smile had overtaken Ivy's face and she had grabbed her stick with intent. "Shall we go back?" Confidently, she held her hand out, knowing he would take it.
And he did.
Which is why the day he stopped was so devastating to her.
It had been a strange friendship. A friendship made up of such intimacy - indeed, Lucius rarely let go of her hand for long and if he did, he usually kept contact with her in some way, or she with him - was made stranger by their lack of discussion. Ivy would talk at him, would keep entire conversations going by herself so that he always knew what was in her head. Her Papa had told her that she should always speak her mind, that women should never be silent and unheard. She tried to abide by this, even if it meant she did not give Lucius Hunt the peace he wanted. She told herself, most days, that if he did not want to hear her inane conversations, he would simply leave. If he got fed up, he was under no obligation to stay.
But stay he did. Even when other, better, opportunities came along, he stayed with her. He didn't always guide her everywhere - he knew as well as she did that she so rarely fell or tripped - but his presence soothed her. He would walk with her when she was alone, sit with her when she was alone… he was a consistent, if not constant, companion.
One day, he'd grabbed her upper arm and pulled her back so abruptly that she'd yelped in surprise. She heard his breathing quicken, and his quiet "Sorry," had pulled her heartstrings. "There's a piece of wood." Sure enough, as she felt out with her hand, there was a long rough piece of wood at her eye level.
Turning to him with a large and bright smile, Ivy had said, "I owe you my life now, Lucius Hunt." And if she'd had the beauty of regular vision, she'd have seen his lips quirk up ever so slightly.
Over the years that they were friends, their group expanded slightly. Noah, who struggled to make friends as some children did not understand him, stuck to Ivy and Lucius. He offered conversations with Ivy, albeit strange ones, but it meant that she was not simply talking to herself. Occasionally, Lucius would pipe up, would contribute something to the discussions but it was so rare that Ivy learnt she ought not depend on it. In that way, Noah's presence was a pleasant surprise. His parents were particularly happy with the turn of events, as it meant Noah had friends to be with and ones that were not egging him on to do silly things, but rather had a calming influence.
When Ivy reached the age of ten, and Lucius twelve, Kitty joined their group too. Kitty was the same age as Lucius and had assumed it would make their group more even. Since Ivy had mastered the art of conversing with Noah so well, Kitty had thought she would be the person for Lucius. That their age similarity would mean Lucius would talk more with her, that he would open up to her and for her.
Did Kitty not know that Lucius was as set in his ways as the church tower clock? That he did speak, careful and imaginative words, only not as often as others? That his thoughts and opinions were as strong as everyone else's and formulated with consideration? Did Kitty not know that Ivy had come to depend on him? On his carefully chosen words and his silent but strong presence?
It seemed she did not.
Kitty would whisk Lucius off whenever she had the chance, a job for him here, something to show him there. She would chatter away inanely, as Ivy once had, but where Ivy knew that occasionally silence said the most, Kitty did not. Lucius, too polite to say anything that may offend or upset Kitty, simply went along with it. It gave Kitty hope and only encouraged her further, but Ivy did not intervene for fear that Lucius was happy to be free of Ivy's teasing and her desire to do everything and be everything she could.
It was one warm summer's evening, on Ivy's eleventh birthday, when Lucius finally gave voice to the notions that lived solely in Ivy's head. Ivy had left the village square (that had been beautifully decorated with lanterns, flowers and the like in honour of her birthday) to get away from the noise. She loved to dance, loved to sing and loved to talk… but sometimes it all became too much. Too much noise, as she heard so much more than others, and too overwhelming to all her senses. She saw the world in such a different way… only a few understood. Her Papa had squeezed her hand as she had left, being one of the few.
Lucius had found her in the dark, sat on the grassy knoll and staring at the woods happily. "Did you want to be alone?" He asked her in his ever quiet tone.
Smiling wider, she patted the ground next to her. "I was too warm from the dancing."
"You dance as though it will be the last time you do so." The observation had come after a moment of consideration, as though he wasn't sure how she'd take it.
"I love to dance," she replied simply and it was true. She refused to let her blindness affect her life… she wanted to run, dance, laugh, sing, love like any other woman in the village. Perhaps she would not be an excellent wife, would not make a wonderful gardener, would not help to physically build anything in their home… but she would fill it with kindness. And laughter. That would be her job, her role.
They were silent for a while, then, thinking about their lives and their nights and that moment. As usual, it was Ivy who broke it.
"My sister has taken a liking to you," she laughed, twisting her head to stare straight at his colour.
He said nothing, but then she hadn't expected him to.
"Perhaps you should ask her to dance?"
She heard his small exhalation that was akin to the laugh she'd truly wanted but it satisfied her nonetheless. They both knew he would never do anything of the sort.
"I do not know what to say to her," he told Ivy, in the confidence that only the two of them could have.
"That's very unlike you, Lucius Hunt."
It was the first time she'd heard him laugh so loudly. It was unrestrained and unparalleled. She realised she wanted to make him laugh for the rest of her life.
Their moment had been broken by Noah's arrival, as he'd come barrelling up to them, laughing. Ivy had looked at Lucius' colour for one moment longer, smiled to herself, and turned her attention to Noah.
In her deepest and darkest thoughts, Ivy often suspected that Kitty was the beginning of the end of the friendship she had formed with Lucius. Their dynamic seemed to shift and once Kitty and Lucius turned thirteen, Lucius had stopped holding Ivy. Had stopped guiding her, stopped talking to her, stopped listening to her. It was as though their night in the dark had changed something in him, made him not want to listen to either of the sisters anymore. Ivy thought that maybe Lucius had not wanted to offend either sister by ignoring them so had simply stopped talking. Yet it didn't explain how he didn't help her even when she needed it. She'd once tripped on purpose to see if he'd help her, but his colour did not move closer to her. She'd once been so consumed with his colour being so close that she actually had walked into a tree branch, leaving a cut on her head so deep that it bled for hours. She'd seen his colour hesitate, wavering in the ever-present darkness that consumed Ivy Walker's life… and then he'd left.
And suddenly she was so alone. Her and Noah's friendship grew out of necessity - they only had each other. He was now the one to guide her, to make sure she didn't walk into branches, into beams of wood. She grew to depend on him to make her laugh, to make her remember to live life to the fullest. To dance, to run.
But to love? Ivy Walker knew that she'd been in love with Lucius Hunt since she was six years old and that she would never love anyone the way she loved him.