RaKoLa
Chapter 9: Storm; Lullaby
…!
On the rooftop he heard a sound.
The violent pitter-patter of raindrops.
Unbound from the louring sky, the hefty fall pelted - abound and earthbound.
"Tsk!" Kissing teeth, a lengthy sigh followed.
He turned to face the window; sheets of water coasting down the panelled glass as white lights flashed through the sprints of lightning.
So much for wakin' up at a decent hour. Drawling mentally, he turned away, focusing on the digital clock found on the bedside table; numbers glowing.
- 03:00 AM.
"Jeez." He had hoped turning in for an early night would be encouragement to wake up at a "fair" time the next day, but with the sudden event of a storm, he'd be lucky to drift off anytime soon.
In and out, his air came and went with languid breaths; head swaying side to side as he inwardly played the chill mix of a jazz instrumental to drown out the loud disturbance.
After several minutes of musical arrangement, he was still awake.
"Gimme a break will ya." The heavy rain continued its rounds with the aid of thunder and lightning.
Relenting, he sat up and got out of bed, trudging over to the bedroom door.
While he had no taste for it in the past, tea – of the herbal variety – had done well enough to calm his nerves and mitigate potential restlessness.
It would've definitely been of use to him years ago, he can admit that. By the by, he was happy his now fondness for it didn't borderline the obsession of a certain gothic blonde, otherwise he'd be joining her routinely for teatime, and he'd be damned if he gave the aristocrat something satisfactory to poke fun at him about.
She does enough of that shit already.
Opening and stepping through, he made a hard turn and walked down the hallway.
Not very far, though.
"Hm!?"
Before him, on the floor, curled up in a bundle of loose clothing, was a small "thing".
Paralysed, yet visibly shaken up the harsh roar and echoes of thunder. Tiny whimpers barely audible.
"You're too quiet for your own good, kid," he muttered, pressing fingertips to his temple.
The small "thing", a child, dressed up in a Kaka hoodie. A full head of hair, similar in complexion to his own spiky mess, with a single blonde strand – acting like an antenna – between a pair of flattened cat ears.
"Far too quiet." Most infants, when agitated, would cry out loud; the increasing volume high enough to draw any parent out of their slumber in due time.
But the little girl in front of him was different. If ever she were disturbed or needed him, the kitten would seek him out and gain his attention up front than call out to him from a distance.
"Lambda."
A natural born silent type. If not for the fact that the child could already speak, he would've suspected the blonde kitten to be a mute.
"Lambda!"
"Mew!" Like a startled cat, her head sprang up. Eyes moist with liquid beads of tears popping through.
He crouched down.
"Hey there kiddo," he spoke with a soft voice, partially coarse from the early wakeup call, still. "The storm wake you up too, eh?"
Bright ruby red shimmered; a wave of tears threatening to spill.
"Mew."
A warm smile traced upon his face of empathy.
"Come one," reaching out with his palms open, Lambda scurried into his grasp. "You'll stay with me tonight, alright?" Cradling the little kitten he felt her tiny hands grip his shirt through the long pawed sleeves of her hoodie.
"Mew." A yellow tail unfurled and coiled around his arm.
Forgoing his trip to the kitchen to make tea he headed back into his room and pushed the door shut with his barefoot, striding across and slipping back into bed with the scared little kitten against his chest.
- Krrr'K!
Hearing the harsh precursory sound with her sensitive ears Lambda flinched.
- BOOOOOM!
"MEW!" A high-pitched cry ripped through her small form. She shook uncontrollably.
Toned arms held the kitten protectively; a hand used stroke her head as his cheek rested atop her crown.
"Shhhhh, shhh," he sounded out with a hushed whisper. "It's okay, Lambda... It's okay." He felt the extremity of her distress. An unstable overture built to break out into a cacophony of fear; anxiety that may develop into a phobia if he didn't do something.
"You don't have to worry, kitten. Daddy won't let a mean storm hurt ya." He said, kissing her crown.
The infant had calmed down at the sound of his assertion, but it wasn't enough to ease her into slumber; lingering terror keeping its grip on her.
…
The natural phenomena had regressed. Thunders ceased, leaving the heavy rain behind with frequent flickers of light coming from the dark overcast.
He sat up with his back to the window, shielding Lambda from the outside flashes of light.
"The sky is dark and the hills are white –
As the storm-king speeds from the north tonight...,"
He circle rubbed her back,
"And this is the song the storm-king sings,
As over the world his cloak he flings...,"
and patted her bum in a rhythmic pattern, making the girl wriggle and moan before relaxing further.
"'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep',
He rustles his wings and gruffly sings;
'Sleep, little one, sleep'."
He shifts her in his arms and cribs her like a newborn.
He keeps her close, looking down at her, as she – bravely opening her eyes – looks up at him. Red meeting green.
"On yonder mountainside a vine –
Clings at the foot of a mother pine...,"
With a finger he prods her cheek and light traces circles on it.
"The tree bends over the trembling thing,
And only the vine can hear her sing...,"
Her little fingers reach forth, and grasp his digit like a baby making contact for the first time.
"'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep',
What shall you fear when I am here?
'Sleep, little one, sleep'."
Her tremulous chest and breaths dwindle; the sincerity of his voice aiding to assuage her worries more and more.
Terror loses its hold.
"The king may sing in his bitter flight,
The tree may croon to the vine tonight...,"
Her eyelids droop, and lips quiver before they part; small mouth opening for a quiet yawn.
He raises her up.
"But the little snowflake at my breast –
Liketh the song I sing the best...,"
Slowly, he lays down with her;
"Sleep, sleep, little one sleep...,"
eyes of the kitten are once again closed.
"Weary thou art, anext my heart –
Sleep, little one... sleep."
…
Cleansed of fright and composed as calm waters,
Lambda fell to a restful sleep; his heart maintaining her repose.
"There were go," he sighed.
Pelting drops had waned to light showers as the weather neared to a flat calm.
Rarely did he need to give more of his time to tend to the little blonde. Part cat she may be, Lambda wasn't fickle; she was capable of retaining her focus and could be occupied for well over an hour doing her own thing until she needed him. The perks of having an independent child allowed for him to carry out his own tasks without much pause.
"All... tuckered... out..."
But if there was ever a moment she needed him; because of boredom, loneliness, uncertainty, confusion, or because she was scared.
Night... Lambda.
In a heartbeat, he would sacrifice all the time needed to ensure his daughter was at peace.
Mugen7: Poem is Norse Lullaby by Eugene Field.
(And for Lambda dressed as a Kaka, look up Kuro Yuzu on Danbooru; should be on page 16.)
L8r.
