Skimble stood in the middle of the scriptorium, running his hands through his hair, "But, Abbot, on Iona we always found that the other arrangement was more effective."

"This is not Iona," Bustopher replied. "And things will be kept to my specifications."

"But the light isn't good enough in this arrangement. You're just weakening the scribes' abilities."

"It will be as I say," Bustopher declared, hitting the table in front of him. At that moment Mistoffelees came bursting through the door, stopping short at the sight of his uncle. "Mistoffelees. It's about time we saw you today. Where have you been?"

Skimble turned at the sound of the youth entering, his brows rising at the dandelion seeds caught in the younger man's dark hair.

"I," Mistoffelees started, taking half a step back. If he had been aware of what was stuck in his hair he would never have entered the same room as his uncle.

"What's that?" Bustopher asked, stepping forward and plucking a leaf from his hair. "Did you go into the forest? Have I not warned you about the dangers outside these walls? And yet you still disobey me!"

"Bustopher," Skimble's voice was quiet, "you can see the boy came to no harm."

"This time," Bustopher replied. "But what about next time?"

"It's not dangerous," Mistoffelees attempted to protest only to wither under his uncle's stare.

"If you were really concerned about that you would have taught him the ways of the woodsmen, Bustopher."

The Abbot turned angry eyes on Skimbleshanks, the rest of the brothers having since attempted to melt into the woodwork. "Why? So he could end up like his parents?"

"So you would rather he face the world with no knowledge beyond these walls?" The older man countered.

"He never need face the world," Bustopher replied. Mistoffelees glanced between the abbot and brother, hating that they were arguing over him while he was standing right there but unable to think of a single thing to say for himself.

"Those walls will not hold forever, Bustopher, and you know it."

Eyes narrowing, Bustopher just shook his head and stormed out of the scriptorium, the door slamming shut behind him. "They will hold," was the last thing he said on the way out.

Mistoffelees leaned hard against the wall, hands coming up to comb through his hair, wincing when he realized how much had been stuck in it.

Skimble rubbed his eyes, sighing heavily, "He really does believe he's doing the right thing."

"He does," Mistoffelees agreed, looking down as Macavity leapt into his master's arms. "But you don't."

Skimble shook his head slightly, scratching Macavity's ears, "I think he thinks he does, but thinking you are and actually doing so are two different things I fear."

Still looking down, Mistoffelees nodded, getting what he hoped was the last leaf out of his black hair. "I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"No need to apologize, lad."

"Still," he started and stopped. "Here, some more oak berries. I figured this way we'd have more than enough for a while."

The illuminator offered him a smile, "Thank you. You want to help me make some more ink later?"

"Sure," he replied, leaving the small sack on the podium. "But for now I think I need to be doing some extra wall work."

"Alright, take care, lad."

B-B-B

Later that night Mistoffelees slide into the scriptorium, greeted by Macavity slinking around his legs. "Hi," he said, picking the cat up and stroking under his chin.

Skimble looked up from where he was working on another color of ink, smiling, "Good evening, lad."

Setting Macavity down on the table, Mistoffelees leaned over it to see what Skimble was doing. "It looks beautiful."

"It's just the ink. Which is useless without one of these," he picked up a sharpened quill, offering it to Mistoffelees.

Mistoffelees blinked at him. "I'm not allowed," he started, shrinking away slightly from the proffered quill.

"Oh come now. There's no one else here. Just you, and your imagination." He pushed the inkwell with the ink made from the oak galls toward the lad.

Swallowing, Mistoffelees accepted the quill, dipping it carefully in the ink, only to have it splash over the scrap page in front of him. His hand drew back like it had been burned.

"Keep going," Skimble urged, "finish what you start."

Managing not to reply it was an ink stain on a piece of paper, Mistoffelees dipped the quill in the ink again, carefully trying to sketch out a few of the flowers Coricopat had shown him, and next to that a dandelion puff taking shape.

Skimble tilted his head on one side to look at the drawings, "Those are quite good."

"They're clumsy," Mistoffelees replied and looked a little shame faced for a moment. "The brother's art was always so lovely... I found a board for chalk ages ago and tried to practice sometimes." Purring, Macavity curled up beside the parchment.

"All it takes is a bit more familiarity with the workings of quill and ink." He glanced at Macavity, "What do you think? You think he could pull it off?" Glancing up at the sound of his master's voice, Macavity just purred harder, tail swishing behind him. Skimble nodded, "I think so too."

Mistoffelees glanced at both of them, thinly smiling. "Well, with such faith in me as that I could hardly not live up to it."

"I'll teach you, if you like. Everything I can," Skimble promised.

For a moment Mistoffelees just stared at him, before nodding quickly. "T-thank you."

"You're welcome. You've got it in you to be a great illuminator and scribe, Mistoffelees," Skimble offered him a smile. Returning the smile, not quite looking like he believed him, Mistoffelees nodded.

B-B-B

Despite his uncle's seething fury, Mistoffelees continued to sneak out into the forest, less and less under the pretense of finding anything for Skimbleshanks. Eventually he started taking his chalkboard as well, to show Coricopat the different designs he was working on.

One autumn day found them sitting in the tree branches, Mistoffelees' back to the trunk and one of his legs hanging down, sketching.

Coricopat was dividing his time between watching the leaves change, and the birds make their final preparations for winter, and settling next to Mistoffelees. He'd grown a bit subdued as Autumn progressed, the same vitality that had existed in Summer still lying underneath, but his behavior quieter, "What are you drawing?"

Mistoffelees glanced up, not realizing the other was so close and pulling the chalkboard to his chest. "Hm?"

"Can I see it?" The fae tilted his head on one side.

"It, um, hm?" Mistoffelees tried again, eyes wide in feigned innocence.

"The drawing, silly. Can I see it?"

"Oh, well, it," Mistoffelees considered for another long moment, still trying to verbally stall.

The fae drew back a bit, "You don't have to show it. I just thought you might."

Mistoffelees bit his lip and finally put the chalkboard back down on his knees, turning it so Coricopat could see the drawing of what was obviously him, in the pose the fae had just been in of looking out over the forest.

He tilted his head on one side, studying it, "Do I really look like that?"

"Yeah?" Mistoffelees said quietly.

"Huh. I..." He offered the other a smile, "You draw well."

"You only say that because you haven't seen the other brothers' work," the youth replied with a blush.

"But you do!"

The blush only got worse. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Besides, it's probably less that I'm a good artist and more that the things around me are beautiful."

It was the fae's turn to blush, "But you make them look that way when you draw, too."

Tilting his head, Mistoffelees smiled. "I didn't know you could blush," he teased. "Besides, I could hardly do something lovely the disservice of drawing it to look otherwise."

"Blush?" He looked confused by the term.

Leaning forward, Mistoffelees' ran his thumb along Coricopat's cheek. "When your cheeks turn red. Like mine do sometimes. It's called blushing."

The fae blinked at the touch, blushing a bit more, "Oh. I do that?"

"You are right now," Mistoffelees smiled, not drawing his hand back.

He bit his lip, tilting his head into the touch, "Well, I...didn't know."

Still smiling, the dark haired youth drew his hand back, fiddling with one of his earring loops. "It's a good look really."

"Well, I...It looks good on you too."

Mistoffelees couldn't help but chuckle. "We sound ridiculous. Maybe this is why we need Macavity around."

Coricopat laughed, "No, he's around to make sure we don't fall out of trees."

"Well, that too," Mistoffelees agreed.

"He's a nice cat," the fae remarked, before his attention was drawn away by the cry of a raven.

"He is," Mistoffelees agreed, eyes scanning the other's profile as he looked away. "Winter will be here soon."

Coricopat nodded, his arms wrapping around himself, "You'll still come to see me?"

"Of course," Mistoffelees said, frowning slightly. "Are you cold?"

"Cold?" He tilted his head on one side again, trying to define the word. "I am Autumn."

The youth blinked and then nodded. "You'll be fine though? I mean, you always are."

He nodded again, "It is white in winter, but Summer comes again."

"Alright. It would be silly to tell you you could stay at Kells, wouldn't it?"

The fae smiled faintly, "I will live as I always have. Winter is not new, stones are."

"Alright," Mistoffelees replied.

He looked up at the sky, "I should get you back."

Hazel eyes turning up as well, Mistoffelees nodded, though he looked reluctant. The fae sighed softly, "Come on then. I'll show you some Autumn things on the way." Mistoffelees nodded, sliding off the branch and carefully climbing down.

Coricopat scurried down ahead of him, waiting until he'd reached the ground, "Come on." He started toward the route they usually took back to Kells, Macavity joining them from where he had been waiting in the grass.

Starting to follow him, Mistoffelees paused when he felt like something was trying to tug on his chest. Turning, he stopped following Coricopat, instead going the other way toward whatever it was that was calling.

The fae paused, drawing back a still leafy branch to reveal an abandoned bird's nest, "Look, M-" He turned, frowning, "Mistoffelees?" Coricopat let the branch fall gently back into place, calling to the forest to let him know where the other was. "Mistoffelees?" He took off, quickly as he realized where the other was.

The black haired youth was standing in front of a mound of earth, stones circling the base and standing along the approached toward it. A raven squawked and flew through the air above him, startling him. But the door to the passage inside the mound was calling to him and he found himself walking toward it without really considering.

Coricopat skidded to a stop at the start of the aisle of standing stones, his voice holding a note of panic, "What are you doing? Come away from there."

Mistoffelees finally stopped and glanced back. "What?"

The fae's gaze darted to a flock of ravens that suddenly took off, "This is a place of suffering..." Rather than taking a step toward Mistoffelees, as he usually would, he backed a solid step.

That got a frown out of Mistoffelees. "Cori... What's wrong? What is this place?" he asked, waving a hand toward the mound. "There's something there...?"

"It's too dangerous." His grey gaze darted toward the mound, "It is the cave of the Dark One."

"Dark one? You surely don't mean Crom Cruach?" The fae nodded rapidly scurrying over to him finally, his usual pattern of appearing and disappearing too risky in such a place. "You're acting really scared," Mistoffelees blinked at him. "Surely it's just a legend. There's nothing to worry about."

Coricopat's eyes widened, "It's waiting in the dark. In there. For someone to awaken it. It's no legend."

"Who could awaken it?" Mistoffelees asked as a sudden gust of wind blew out of the passage, swirling around the clearing and nearly tugging him right over toward the door.

The fae gasped slightly and he darted away, out of the rows of standing stones.

Mistoffelees' eyes widened and he could almost feel the wind trying to draw him into the darkness. "Okay, not a legend," he managed, taking a few steps backward, fighting against the wind.

Coricopat finally hauled himself up onto a stone near the entrance to the passageway and braced himself against one of the carved statues next to it, trying to shove it over. He could feel he Dark One's strength seeping into the forest, twining about him, but he fought through it, finally getting the statue to fall across the entrance. As the stone fell into place he slipped, landing hard on his hands and knees and fighting for the strength to rise.

Almost falling over himself, Mistoffelees ran over. "Cori! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, are you alright?"

The fae drew his arms around himself, curling away from the passage and somewhat away from the lad as well.

Dropping to his knees, Mistoffelees stopped himself from touching the other, though he was leaning toward him, desperately wanting to. "I'm so sorry... I didn't..."

The fae looked up, his dark hair hanging in front of his still wide, terrified eyes, "Y-you believe in fae of the woods, but not in the Dark One."

The youth blinked at him and swallowed. "I do now," he managed. "I just... it didn't... I was raised to believe it was pagan nonsense. You, you were real to me, those things remained stories."

Struggling to get to his feet, the forest spirit nodded, "I...should get you back to your home."

"Are you alright?" Mistoffelees asked, looking up at the other and not standing yet.

"It is Autumn," Coricopat murmured as though that should explain things.

A crease forming between his eyebrows, Mistoffelees finally rose. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

"You did not know," came the simple response.

"I should have," he managed, pausing a moment before taking Coricopat's hand loosely, so the other could pull away if he wanted.

The fae startled at the touch and instinctively started to draw away, but caught himself in time, "We should get you back." Mistoffelees nodded mutely, unsure whether he should draw back himself or not. Coricopat tightened his grip and started to head toward the lighter parts of the forest. Following him, the youth was quieter than usual.

"I will be alright," the fae finally murmured.

"Good," Mistoffelees said, stopping at the place where the forest met the meadow where Kells stood. He paused a moment, putting his hand on Coricopat's cheek.

He paused before leaning into the touch. He reached down and scooped up Macavity, who had been trailing after them, and handed him to Mistoffelees, "I will see you again?"

Swallowing, Mistoffelees glanced down at the cat, taking him and holding him against his chest. The ginger tabby looked a great deal flustered. "You will," he promised. "I'll be back."

"Take care until then."

"You too," Mistoffelees swallowed, before finally turning and returning to the town down below. Coricopat watched him go before vanishing back into the forest to find a place to settle and heal for a while.


Poor Misto. He doesn't realize that thick black hair of his catches and hold everything it comes into contact with. That being said, Bustopher is genuine in wanting to protect his nephew in this verse. He just over compensated and becomes more of a tyrant and it doesn't work. Poor guy.

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