A/N: I was given the prompt "Magenta tries to teach Columbia about Transylvanian culture but Columbia keeps getting distracted". I kind of ventured away from that prompt towards the end of this but you get the general idea. As ever, this is mostly show-verse.
Columbia had never been very good at sitting still. That is, she had never been able to stay still at all. Even in sleep – when she eventually got there – she was wriggling and kicking and mumbling under her breath. It was this trait which Magenta found most frustrating of all about her; that and her short attention span. In many ways, those went hand in hand.
Only recently, they had started sharing a bed. It had reached the quarter of the year which was when the cold came. Having grown up on a planet which had no concept of 'weather', Magenta struggled to understand the specifics of Earth climates, no matter how many times Columbia attempted to explain it. Some of the drivel that came out of her friend's (and she used the term loosely, secretly) mouth was so unbelievable that she no longer could differentiate what was true and what wasn't. Either way, she certainly noticed the chill, and not having any spare blankets, she had allowed the fidgety child to join her on her own mattress, provided her blanket came with her. Of course, that also meant she had her ice-block hands shoved down her nightdress each night, her frozen toes brushing up and down the lengths of her legs whilst Columbia tried to get comfortable; but that was a small price to pay.
It was the late night conversation that was the most exasperating.
Columbia, despite her small mind and child mentality, had a thirst for knowledge that was only matched by Magenta's brother's. Admittedly, her questions tended to be a lot less logical than Riff's, but she had questions nonetheless, and Magenta quickly learnt that unless she at least attempted to answer these inquiries, sleep was simply unattainable.
"They have school in Transylvania right?" Columbia asked one night, as Magenta was just about drifting off to sleep.
Keeping her eyes closed, the redhead let out an exasperated sigh, answering her in hushed tones, "sure. We have classes. We're more highly developed at a young age than earthlings are," she paused, "go to sleep."
Columbia sat up, propping herself up on her elbows and peering down at Magenta. As if proving her friend right, she pulled a face, her tongue lolling out of her head as she went cross eyed. Magenta remained still, her eyes closed. Giving in, Columbia slunk back down into the bed.
"Do you have kindergarten?"
"I don't know what that is," Magenta sighed.
"Like, when you first go to school, you have this year where you mostly just play and learn how to count and stuff like that. Learn how to spell your name. That sort of thing."
Magenta rolled her eyes, sitting up a little and glaring down at the child, "we don't have time for such tedious behaviour as 'playing'."
She lay flat on the bed and closed her eyes again, a soft smile playing on her lips. Of course they had time for playing. She remembered a time where she and her dollies were allowed to play. She had the most beautiful one with bright red hair and an emerald frock, with two shiny black buttons for eyes. She never played with anything else.
Riff would sit in the dirt, scowling, kicking at the ground with buckled legs. He wasn't allowed to join in.
Her smile faded.
"Explain the... what do you call it... moon circle again."
Magenta inwardly groaned. This had to be at least the fifth time this week she had attempted to explain the moon cycle. Columbia had the attention span of a goldfish.
"I don't feel like it. You should have listened attentively the first four times."
She felt Columbia crawl into the bed, pressing her cold body flat against the back of her own, and flinched. Arms wrapped around her waist, a face pressed into her neck, hair brushing against her face. Soft, plump lips touched her cheek for a moment, and then were gone.
"Please?"
Magenta sighed once more.
"Very well. The moon cycle is how we gauge time. It isn't like your earth moons. We don't have full moons and half moons and so on. Our moon changes colour dependant on when- Columbia are you even listening?"
Columbia, who had busied herself with kicking her leg – and with it, the blankets – above her head repeatedly, stopped, and lied still, "sorry Mags... yes... go on."
"It changes colour dependant on what cycle we are in. We do not have 'years' as you do on earth, we measure in moon spectrums. As far as I can tell – my brother attempted to calculate it upon our arrival – one moon is equivalent to your... Columbia!"
Now hanging upside down off the end of the bed, Columbia quickly sat up, "I'm listening I just can't-"
"Lie still? Yes, I had noticed," Magenta retorted dryly. She closed her eyes again, folding her arms behind her head, "one moon is equivalent to 398 of your earth days."
"So if you measure age in moons..." Columbia said, showing, for once, that she had been listening.
"I am eighteen and... approximately a quarter. I haven't been able to keep track of it since we came here."
Columbia thought for a while, her face twitching. It might have been endearing if Magenta weren't so frustrated by her. Eventually, she turned to face Magenta, a confused expression on her podgy little face.
"So how old are you?"
"In earth years? Well... I suppose... approximately... twenty years old?"
"Geez," Columbia whispered, "twenty. I sure wish we could work out your birthday so we could celebrate."
"We don't have birthdays," scowled Magenta, opening one eye to look at her. They had only recently discussed the upcoming 'Christmas' and she still did not profess to understanding it. According to Columbia, on Earth the days had numbers and names and all sorts of other conflicting ways of differentiating one day from the next. It was all gobbledegook to Magenta, who had grown up in a place where days were purely nominal.
"Oh but Mags you simply must have a birthday. Do you not celebrate the day you were born at all?"
Magenta stared at her, "what purpose would that have? I was born. I exist. Why should it matter what day I arrived on?"
"Well then why do you keep track of how old- how many moons you have lived for?"
Considering this for a moment, Magenta realised that she had no answer. For the first time, Columbia had rendered her speechless, actually managing to outsmart her. Growling, Magenta rolled onto her side so her back was to her again.
"No more questions. I want to sleep."
"Okay," Columbia said quietly, obviously aware that she had pushed her friend too far. She snuggled down beside her, tentatively wrapping an arm around the younger girl's waist and nuzzling into her back as she often did. Although she always pretended to be cold towards the girl, Magenta was secretly glad of the contact, finding it oddly comforting. Now that Columbia was finally settled, she looked forward to getting to sleep, at last.
Or not.
"Do they have the same concept of like... relationships..." Columbia suddenly asked, her voice lower than usual.
"Go to sleep," Magenta ground out, remaining still.
"I mean... you and Riff... and Frank seems to sleep with whoever he wants and... I'm just curious."
"You are always curious," the redhead pointed out, rancourously.
Ignoring her, Columbia continued, "just that it sure seems you don't... I mean, you don't care who is with who in Transylvania. It's kinda nice."
Giving up, Magenta rolled over, forgetting her close proximity to the child and almost elbowing her in the face. She stared at her in the near-dark, her green eyes narrowed. The string of lights Columbia kept draped around her crib-like bed cast the room in a faint glow of white which was enough for Magenta to see the startled expression on the girl's face, and she relented.
"We don't have your preciousness for sex if that's what you mean. It isn't sacred or something to be nervous around. We just get on with it. We don't have the concept of love that you earthlings spend so much time fussing over. It's all so tedious."
"And you don't mind... sharing?" Columbia enquired solemnly.
Considering this for a moment, Magenta shrugged her bony shoulders, nuzzling into her pillow, "I guess not. Sex is just sex, after all."
After a long moment – long enough that Magenta had closed her eyes and almost drifted off into dreamland – Columbia shifted closer. She remained silent, a fact that Magenta could only be grateful for. The questions were over. The bed was still. Columbia, still pressed against her, was still. She's finally asleep, Magenta thought, smiling a little to herself.
Then: "Mags?"
It took all the self-restraint in the world for Magenta not to audibly groan. Instead, she let out an irritated "what?", not bothering to open her eyes.
"I love you, you know."
Despite herself, Magenta couldn't help but smile, a warmth filling her heart. She was glad she had her back to Columbia, as she muttered her reply: "go to sleep".