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-What sound, in the forest?
-A strange one, passed down for ages, yet only once.
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First Interlude
Regarding Peter, who was outgrown fairytales.
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Through no small effort on the part of his mother, his father, and the youngest of his older brothers, Peter Kirkland is a sweet boy. Not precisely sugar-sweet, but enough to make the previously mentioned three sigh with relief.
He doesn't frolic with woodland creatures singing Disney tunes, and he doesn't go about hugging the homeless, but he helps with the chores without inciting a small-scale rebellion, and he returns money when he sees it dropped on the street.
He may refer to Arthur as his 'jerk brother', but he truly is aware that the older male is only strict out of love. Unlike the rest of their merry band of brothers, who had been all too glad to attempt using the youngest of their brood as the ball in games of football. He might have hero-worshiped Arthur, were it not for a few minor hang-ups.
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First, when Arthur rescued him from the older boys' various attempts at maiming their baby brother, he tended to get his ass handed to him. On a silver platter. With a garnish of humiliation and a pinch of extra pain. And it didn't always discourage them. It did consistently draw the attention of the great and looming force that was Father.
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Second, he actually believed the looney tales he'd been telling Peter since before the younger boy could possibly understand anything Arthur said to him. While it was wonderful at first, those same borderline sociopaths that their mother had supposedly birthed before them were quick to obliterate every single sense of wonder. Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy—though Arthur himself denied that one, at least the modern version—all quickly dissolved, leaving only strange, socially 'behind' Arthur to plead his case in a world that required far too much evidence.
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Third, the man was just too smart. Their brothers were a mob of aimless ruffians destined to take over the family pub and (if they were all lucky) spend each of their lives striving to avoid a long and colorful criminal record. Thus far, fortune had smiled upon them, but it was painfully obvious that Molly and Hugh wouldn't be surprised to see their redheaded hellions in bright orange jumpsuits.
Arthur, however, had presented them with a bar to raise. It seemed, sometimes, as if he absorbed entire tomes by osmosis. Which meant that it wasn't just a cosmic joke being played on the present generation of Kirkland offspring. Still, Peter found himself resenting him at times. He actually had to study, to work at improving his future prospects. His father had told him once, when his mother was safely out of the room, that he was far too pretty a lad to do well in prison, so he'd best get a diploma.
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After that, he'd nearly run himself ragged trying to study as often as he possibly could. In bed, on the swings, leaning half-out of the bath—until Arthur had come along on one of his visits and sort-of saved him yet again.
He'd plucked the book from Peter's sliding grip and pointedly pushed his pretty blonde head back against the pillow with an order to 'Get some bloody sleep, already.'
The younger Kirkland had been too busy to object, but it wouldn't have been anything new. It wasn't fair that Arthur had run off to his own place and his mediocre job and left Peter with the ever-present hell horde. It had all been said before, and the only thing it ever netted him was a sad smile or a sigh.
Instead, he fell asleep to the feel of his brother's fingers toying with his hair and the strange sensation of dragonfly wings brushing his cheek.
After that, his mother told him, Arthur had gone downstairs to have a talk with the heads of the household. Apparently Arthur was far better at gathering his evidence these days, because his parents seemed to quite enjoy the idea of hiring their youngest son a 'tutor'.
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To be honest, Tino is more of a nanny than a tutor, but their father prefers having a more masculine term for the newest addition to their twisted-traditional family unit.
Peter doesn't really care either way, but when Seamus called the petite man a 'fairy' during their first meeting, Tino had laughed, bright and cheerful, before trapping the much bigger man in something of an improvised full nelson. It had been absolutely brilliant.
It may well have been that show of power that let Peter relax in spite of the man's otherwise delicate and motherly nature. He had a way of soothing his upsets, focusing his attention, and coaxing his every improvement with the same gentle tone of voice and pleasant smile.
And each time Tino moved to direct him or point out an answer, the bell on his bracelet would softly jingle. It was a sweet and pleasant sound.
One of Peter's favorites.
It told him that Tino was nearby, that Tino was coming.
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Even if Tino was a fairy, Peter didn't mind. When he told him so, it seemed to amuse the Finnish man.
He chuckled and lilted, "Is that so?"
"Well, I mean, it's all right if you are."
"I see." Tino tapped under his winking right eye, once again jingling with the movement.
That's the right answer, Peter.
That's good.
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A/N: A brief interlude for you. Isn't it strange, how people can meet?
Technical Note: If you have read this entire chapter in italics, it's not for lack of my struggling to fix it. 's uploading system, once again, has decided to eat my formatting. -.- It looked nicer, but I guess that's too much to ask for.
