TW: Christian ideology, torture/crucifixion imagery
Obviously, this is a church scene as I set up in the last chapter. There'll be some terminology here that might be alien to you:
narthex, nave, sacristy are all areas of the building
relief is a large sculpture on a planar surface
kneeler is usually a piece of wood with a cushion on it used for kneeling during prayer
Curses had resounded in Soul's head since sun-up, or he was honestly too proud to admit they'd started the moment Maka had suggested the idea. The sweet chatter passing between her and Reggie on the walk had as much effect as warm breath on frostbite. Even the Sunday-best dress she'd put on along with a just as stunning smile couldn't produce a thaw. He was edging towards a fall.
Maka was not beyond noticing the clench of Soul's jaw, the stiff set of his shoulders that made him actually look his height. As they approached the steps, she dangled her hand behind her, pinkie outstretched since he had been keeping a step in tow. She only had to hold her breath for a moment before he hooked it.
"No!" Reggie edged between them, his little hands parting theirs to take one in each of his.
"What?" Maka laughed.
"You can't hold her hand," Reggie complained back to Soul.
"No?" Soul managed a crinkle of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. "Bein' nice, Reggie. Ms. Albarn needs her hand held or she'll get lost."
Maka snorted and it only exploded into laughter as Reggie abandoned Soul's hand all together to greedily grab both of hers. "I'll make sure she doesn't get lost."
"Ah, because you've been here before?" Soul teased before getting a hand into Reggie's collar. "Green as ever, Reggie. I'm not takin' your girl."
"Soul," Maka chided.
"Ms. Albarn, every day we're together jus' proves me right." The temporary joy in his voice suddenly fluttered away as they entered the narthex and his Sperrys sunk into the wine-colored carpet. The organ music swelled, signaling a lateness that at least brought Soul a modicum of comfort. A hum of voices started as their hushed feet moved into the mouth of the nave. Soul was quick to shove them into the nearest pew, forcing Maka into a hard seat on unforgiving dark wood.
The moonlight hadn't lied; the windows were still a bright, fiery glow of oranges and yellows that turned the floor into an inferno. There was an overwhelming scent of incense only slightly cut by the pine that wept from the walls that had darkened with age. Every last bit assaulted Maka's senses, her head starting to pound in time with her heart. Maka found momentary relief in remaining hidden behind the standing figures of the congregation in front of her, but even without looking, she could still feel the tension of Soul's eyes on her.
"You alright?" Soul leaned close enough that his breath tickled at her ear.
"It's the smell," Maka couldn't help but let her voice wither with the word.
"Reggie, mind standin' in front of Ms. Albarn?" Soul raised his eyebrows at the remnants of an argument on Reggie's face before the little boy acquiesced and scooted in front of Maka to stand on the kneeler. "His hair." He offered a soft smile as he tousled his nephew's raven locks.
Maka dipped her nose closer without any argument from Reggie, letting the minty scent of him momentarily overpower the dizzying odors.
"He's very particular 'bout his shampoo." Soul's throaty chuckle drifted close enough to kiss her earlobe. "Like a man with his cologne. So give 'im a whiff if you need it. He's happy to have you that close anyhow."
Maka nuzzled him for one last moment of relief before she turned her eyes to Soul, finding him straight-backed in the pew as his glare roamed over the congregation. "Soul-"
A single finger came to his lips, no smile curling around the side.
Suddenly the swell stopped, the bodies stiffly settling back into creaking wood. A surging yellow light was cutting into the pulpit, masking the face of the pastor with a candescent halo. It wasn't until he took another step, hands coming steadily and deliberately to the stand that his features became clear enough for Maka to examine them. Though she could see the hay-blond hair, their seats still left them far enough away that discerning much of his face seemed impossible.
"Proverbs 15:1-4 tells us that: 'A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. The tongue of the wise adorns knowledge, but the mouth of the fool gushes folly. The eyes of the Lord are everywhere, keeping watch on the wicked and the good. The soothing tongue is a tree of life, but a perverse tongue crushes the spirit.'"
"Which means today we must talk about lying," the pastor continued as his hands clenched white-knuckled to the pulpit, "and how we must choose our words wisely! Because sometimes, even as we believe we're speaking with the wisest of tongues, our words are nothin' but a fool's errand, bringing destruction to the beautiful world our Lord has built for us."
"And there will be some who speak the Devil's lies- trying to sow them as truths that would bring the downfall of good men and righteous women! We've seen this before, my dear friends, as our history is littered with charlatans and witches-" Saliva flew in the air like dust motes as the cords of his neck strained with the force of the words. "Still, today we have our superstitions and backwater beliefs that keep us from the truth- from that wonderful tree of life the Lord offers us. It's time, for our babies-"
The word fell with a discordant flatline in Maka's ears.
"- our brothers, our mothers-"
It's not the same, is it? Maka tried to hold her breath and push away every other rustling sound in the room beside the lilt of his voice.
"I know you all," the pastor spread his arms as if to encompass the room before continuing, "so I know that these words will settle in your heart- that you'll push out the evil in our community. God's love will persevere thanks to you."
Between her ears and her stomach, Maka was reeling as the world seemed to melt through her fingers. She tried to tuck her chin again in order to press into Reggie's soft hair but found any hope of his sweetness stolen by that sickening scent of smoke. With every last ounce of gentleness she could afford, Maka slipped her legs from around Reggie, seeing both Evans boys instantly turning their heads to offer complaints of some kind. Instead of voicing an ounce of explanation, she was rushing down the aisle, breaking quickly to the left in the vestibule at the restroom sign.
She frantically shuffled into the stall, shakily shutting the door and throwing the lock so she could rest her forehead against the cool, gray metal. That smell! Maka sucked in air, taking desperate minutes to press the disgust down into her gut until it was nothing more than a dull ache no better than that womanly pain. There weren't any candles that I could see- or even incense burners so why can't I get it out of my nose? Not a hint of disinfectant in here, or soap, or anything just that disgusting searing-
The door squealed on its hinges. "Did you see the Albarn girl?"
A second voice scoffed, "You mean the Rossignol, right? Isn't that what her mother was?"
"Dolores, the preacher was just talkin' about superstition and there you go-"
"I wasn't sayin' she is a Rossignol, just that she comes from them," the voice haughtily corrected. "And that's not what I'm talkin' about anyhow: did you see she was here with Evans boy? The younger one?"
"Lenora must be beside herself!"
"First her eldest kills his wife and now the youngest is ruttin' around with something no better than a common whore."
Maka kicked the flush, the woosh of the water overpowering any more of the voices and thoughts in the cramped stall. She slid the lock, slamming the door open to find the two women standing at the sink, lipsticks and rouges frozen in their fingers. "Excuse me," Maka prompted, and one of the women jumped from her as if from a plague victim. She turned the knob, eyes focused on the soap and then the suds she created between her fingers. "You know," her voice lilted pleasantly over the trickle of the tap and the utter silence of the other women. "I think you might have the definition of whore wrong."
"Excuse me?" One of the grey-haired women batted baby blue eyes in Maka's direction.
"I always thought a whore was someone who slept around," Maka spoke analytically as she flicked her eyes up to the mirror, catching both women staring open-mouthed. "I can't speak for Soul, but I can say that- and not that it's any of your business, but at the very least you should at least know the truth before you go running your mouth- I don't exactly fit that definition since I don't like the idea of having sex, so it's only ever been an almost for me." She spun on her heels so she could reach between the two women, parting them as a leper would so she could grab a paper towel from the dispenser. "But I guess it doesn't matter, since 'the mouths of fools gush folly'- or maybe you forgot that part of the sermon too."
Maka tossed the towel in the trash between them, offering them one last silent stare before starting out of the bathroom. The hallway gave little light, the baking beams only illuminating the walk back to the vestibule while darkness hung in the opposite direction. As delayed tears started to sting her eyes, Maka moved towards the shadows, hoping for silence and some reprieve. The curve in the corridor turned the white walls to a drab grey, not a window in sight to trickle in any of the daylight to guide her steps.
The organ crescendo in the distance tried to pull her back, and while her mind gently lighted on the anxious agony that she might have left Soul and Reggie in, it was the absence of air, the blank bubble of space without the scent of fire that moved her towards the door in front of her. It sat on the edge of disintegration, hewn before the planks of Noah's Ark and just as weathered. Touching her fingers to the door brought the threat of splinters, her skin instantly protesting for its own safety as her hand fell to the knob.
Light leaked out accompanied by the sharp smell of fresh flame as it swallowed the oxygen in the tiny room. Every last one of her cells screamed for air and safety, but her feet moved forward, bringing her into the sacristy. Candles at various stages of melt framed the wall, tall ones pressed into the remains of others as eons of wax clung to each eave. As Maka's eyes absorbed the image, her heart wished for a mighty wind to come and leave her in darkness that would cover her eyes.
The relief was impossibly large, spanning the entire wall with stone that was out of place against the pine. Carved without patterned sense were wings, adorned at random with slit-like, unblinking eyes that offered only pupils and no irises. The eyes of the Lord are everywhere, keeping watch on the wicked and the good, they whispered to her without mouths. Only one set of eyes had a face, but the expression sat slack in dim horror with no life left for watching.
The face was young and surrounded by ringlet curls, with a cherubic rounding to cheeks that gave way to feminine, cupid-bow lips. It would almost be a sweet face if it was not simply set in an outstretched hand, a head without a neck as crude droplets of blood trickled down the carved palm. More splatters trailed from the wrist that was bisected by the dark head of a nail, pinning it to the plank of wood behind. As Maka followed the outstretched arm, she found where the head should have been resting as more grey blood oozed over a stump above a slack set of shoulders. She dared to follow the droplets, turning to a chest where the stone had been pitted and crumbled away. The haunting realization hit her as she looked at marble that mimicked torn flesh: It's on purpose. It's supposed to look like that.
Wrapped around the saint's waist was a censoring piece of cloth, keeping only the illusion of modesty as the girl's legs split, secured wide against each leg of the X with another jagged spike. Eyes and feathers continued to peek from around the exposed flesh, cold and judgmental of the fear gushing into Maka's veins. It's crucifixion or something like it. Just that. Religious. Martyrdom. History. Brutal, but true, and… Against the bitter cry of her mind, Maka's view trailed back up, following the other upraised hand, to the final horror: a dove.
The eye was black as coal, the animal entirely still as if flight wasn't even a contemplation. Maka's fingers drifted forward, the candlelight painting shadow from her hand to the wall as reached for the creature. It wasn't until her grasp was almost there, poised to press into the cold, unyielding stone when the thing's head turned, beady eyes blinking at her as she swallowed a scream. As her hand tore backward, the beak opened but instead of the soft coo of the mourning dove, it was a faraway wail that brought with it that overwhelming scent of the inferno.
Her knees buckled, sending her crumpling to the floor as wide eyes followed the sharp tick of the avian head as it regarded her. Did I fall asleep? Am I- is this another walk or is this one of those moments where I finally realize I'm mad? She forced her eyes to the ground, only to be overtaken by the kneeler that was in front of the relief. Instead of those elegant cushions to keep knees from aching during long services, nails stuck askew, stained with what Maka hoped was rust but her heart bleated the reality: blood. Maka forced a trembling breath as she managed a weak scuttle backward.
Get up, she ordered, and while the internal voice warbled she managed to move to kneel, settling there to prove the unsteadiness of her knees. Whatever it is, dream or otherwise, it's not-
"Oh," a soft voice started behind her and Maka snapped her head at the clap of the door. "So this is where you ended up."
Her blood turned thick as twinkling blue eyes flickered in the low light. "I'm- I just guess I got lost."
"That's alright." The man moved closer, offering a hand down to her. The candles waned for a moment, the light shrinking to a glow no better than moonlight. There were the same thin lips, the only difference being the joy that was oozing from them rather than the spittle. "It's your first time here, after all. What did you think?"
It's him! The resounding scream in her mind almost blotted out any other possibility of thought. "Of what?" Maka managed to squeeze from her throat as her hand clung to her side.
"The sermon." The man's smile exploded to show perfectly white, straight teeth. "I knew my inspiration last night was a message straight from the Lord! He whispered in the dark that today should be a day of warning for ears who would need it and I'm so glad that you finally showed your face to hear it!" He renewed his offer but this time added a bend, letting his hand grasp her elbow. "The spawn of the Rossignol embracing the Lord, following the right path!"
I need to get out of here. At least get the door open. I need to get out, but I need to be smart. Maka swallowed more of the poisonous fear down, trying to force it to dissolve in her stomach. Remember what Stein said: headstrong and wild, not timid and worried. I have to make this right.
As soon as the pastor had made it most of the way down the nave, his face just disappearing into the vestibule, Soul was up out of his seat with Reggie on his hip. "Listen," Soul murmured to him as he dodged the crowd, getting into the narthex just on the other man's tail. "You're going to go into the ladies' room-"
"I'm not supposed to," Reggie complained.
Reggie, sometimes your finer sensibilities can just fuckin' shove it! "If anyone asks, you made a mistake. That's all. But if you see Ms. Albarn, you go straight to her, tell her I'm outside."
"I won't get in trouble?" Reggie raised his eyebrows as Soul settled him on the floor.
"No- now get in there." Soul gave him half a shove, watching the little legs catch up with the momentum as the door clapped behind Reggie. Shit, shit, shit, be in there, Maka. Be just woozy or sick or somethin' that I can fix because-
"Since when are you the church-going type?"
Soul's tightened jaw practically popped as his eyes settled on hazel ones batting up at him. "Clara."
Her skirt swished with her steps as she cuddled up next to him, her hip knocking into his. "Solomon. And here I thought you might be avoiding me, but what a pleasure."
"Here with a friend," Soul grumbled as he willed the door to open and show Maka just a little worse for wear but nothing more.
"I saw," Clara sighed as her hand slipped in between his shoulder blades, ignoring the tightening muscles. "The Rossignol girl, Maka." She spat the name off her tongue like it was dirt. "She's been busy- following you and your brother. I hear she's even endearing herself with your nephew. Seems desperate to me." Her fingers tickled over tense skin and Soul tilted forward to try to escape, his shoulders bowing to create just enough room.
The door swung but only enough to release Reggie with a glum face. "It was empty," he murmured.
"Shit," Soul grumbled, but as he reached to scoop Reggie up, he froze. In all the bustle of people, the feet fluttering over the carpet and the voices in various mutters and murmurs of praise, a scream hit him. There was no time to check if the noise had unsettled the rest of the world because it reverberated down to his bones, forcing his arms forward to press Reggie into the wall. "Reggie, stay here! Don't move a muscle!"
"Solomon-" Clara started but Soul was already out of her grasp, barreling into the darkened end of the hallway.
Regardless of the fragility of the door ahead of him, Soul swung with reckless abandon, letting the wood crack against the wall. What little light the hallway had to offer didn't change the chill of the room. The picture of Maka still slightly sprawled on the floor, her elbow lifted uncomfortably in the air as the pastor loomed over her with a face painted in flickering candlelight urged his panic into protection. Soul's chest heaved with a breath before he managed to growl out, "Pastor Justin, I think Ms. Albarn just got a lil' lost, don't you?"
"Solomon Evans…" The man's smile didn't dissipate, nor did his hold on Maka's arm, simply exerting the force to now yank her to her feet. "Such a pleasure that both of you would come to the fold. I was just telling Maka that the Lord surely must have brought us all back together to remind us that we are not our families, our pasts. We are reborn under the gracious eye of the Lord."
"Ms. Albarn." Soul's hand crept out, coming close to the seam of Justin's palm against her skin. "Let's get goin'."
"Just one more thing," Maka murmured, digesting any last bit of trembling fear that had been clenching around her windpipe. "The relief…" She turned her attention once more to the torturous visage, but as her eyes flicked to the open hand, the bird was still. "Why isn't it out for the whole congregation to see?"
"Oh," Justin's voice rang with pleasant pleasure. "Some people hate to see pain, even when that pain is our duty. My father taught me that. Do you think I should move it?" The icy blue of his eyes twinkled with hopeful mirth. "Maybe it is time. We all do need to be reminded that we must suffer for our blessings."
"Ms. Albarn," Soul urged again as his fingers slipped just above Justin's, a small breath of relief coming as the affronting hand released her and Maka let Soul move her comfortably to his side. While he wanted to whisper for reassurance, he saw the grit in her eyes, a glowing green that told him it was a waste. "Let's go. Pleasure seein' ya, Pastor Justin."
I get the feeling every time you say that you mean the opposite, Maka could almost laugh but nothing was left in her throat, just that acrid burn of smoke that was still leaking into every pore. "Where's Reggie?"
"In the hallway," Soul replied gruffly as he tugged her along. "Couldn't bring him in with you screamin' like that."
Maka squeezed his hand, forcing Soul to glance back at her and catch the worry of her brow. "I wasn't screaming."
He mirrored the wrinkle with his own. "I swear, Ms. Albarn, I heard you."
"I-" Any more thought froze on Maka's tongue as she eyed the empty floor in front of them. "Reggie's not there." Before Soul could even grab an edge of the panic that threatened to explode, Maka pressed ahead of him and yanked his arm for good measure, hurrying his steps behind her. "Reggie?" Her voice clamored over the Sunday whispers, sending all eyes to them. None of the glances deterred her, Maka's call bursting to life again. "Reggie?"
"Ms. Albarn!" There was a touch of timidness to the little boy's voice and when they both turned towards the sound, Maka's heart hardened over the reason.
Medusa slowly stood as the little boy slipped from her grasp, eyes shining as they bored a silent message into Maka: I'm watching you, girl. He disappeared so easily, didn't he? One wrong move and…
"Solomon," Clara called from Medusa's side, offering him a wave that was more just a flick of her fingers.
Soul caught Reggie just before he crashed into Maka so he could let his hands run over the boy, little eyes almost identical to his own except for the size blinking back at him. With no obvious wounds, Soul allowed Reggie to take the last view steps into Maka's grasp. "Take 'im."
"Soul-"
"Give me a minute," he cut in tersely. "Then I'll see you home."
Maka watched his slow steps forward as he shed away a piece of himself, leaving a stranger before her treading in the grass. An alien smile that she utterly despised smeared across his lips as his shoulders straightened entirely, puffing out a chest that spoke too much of cool for her liking. Who are you right now? What are you right now? It's like you let some darkness take you and make you something that you're not.
"Ms. Albarn?" Reggie's voice was now teetering towards desperation.
Maka shut the latch on that idea and quickly scooped him off the ground, squeezing him with all her might and finding comfort in the fact that he didn't hesitate to return. "You scared me, Reggie."
"Clara said that I could wait outside for Uncle," Reggie murmured against her ear, "and I didn't really want to go, honest, especially since I don't- oh, that's not nice."
"What's not nice?" Maka whispered just for him as she pulled away to see the cute scrunch of his nose.
"Ms. Yumi says if you don't like someone, you keep that to yourself."
"If you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all," Maka replied with the old adage as her frown grew. "Reggie… You use Ms. with me and Ms. Yumi, but just now with Clara…" She couldn't keep her eyes from wandering, catching that strange man wearing a face she had started to look fondly upon as he laughed through some vague conversation with the woman that had questioned her name. Why does it look so easy for you to talk to her?
"Uncle calls her Clara," Reggie said succinctly.
"Does he?" Maka offered back against her will as her heart lurched forward.
"He's always called her Clara," Reggie seemed to be clarifying but Maka was still entirely lost.
Stop, Maka, stop. Let him try to make this normal- whatever that means. I don't need to draw their attention or anyone else's. She tried to urge the breaks on her tongue especially as that little brow furrowed at her. "It's alright, Reggie. I… I'm just glad you're here." She found a little jagged edge to her heart as she tucked against him again, allowing Reggie to throw his arms around her neck and rest his cheek against her shoulder. As further punishment, she turned her back to the view, trying to erase the image of Soul behind her.
Her view filled with a pale face instead, a mostly featureless person in front of her, masculinity only denoted by the tie around their neck, but a face that seemed absent of either feature. "M-Ms. Albarn?"
Maka put on a tentative smile. "Yes? I'm Maka. And you are…?"
"Crona," they murmured quickly. "And I owe you an apology."
The anxiety filtered off them in waves, and Maka found herself falling into just as much mothering as she was with Reggie in her arms. "For what?" she asked pleasantly.
"I- I went into your room without your permission. I'm sorry."
The hairs stood up on the back of her neck as it strangely echoed Soul but without any of the comforts that his words brought. "You're Medusa's son."
Their lips trembled before they nodded slowly, vision growing hot and wobbly with the threat of tears. "I know there's no excuse, not any excuse at all and again- again I'm really sorry it's just Mama-" They cut off as panicked eyes flicked over Maka's shoulder at the scene she knew was still playing behind her.
"If you're really sorry you'll tell me what you thought you were doing there." Maka watched her sharpness cut them down, spine curling and a tear threatening now on the lip of their eyelid.
"She told me to," they whispered mournfully as they took a step closer to Maka. "Please, you have to believe me. I wouldn't have gone if she didn't tell me to- you have to understand that you have to listen to her, there's no choice, there's no-"
"Calm down," Maka interjected swiftly as she put a soft hand to their arm.
Much like Soul, Crona cringed as if her fingers were crushing rather than feather-light.
Maka pulled back, leaving Crona to cradle their arm like a broken wing. "Will you tell me what she wanted you to find?"
"I-I was supposed to…" Their teeth worked behind their lips before another trembling sentence managed to pass, "... see if there was anything between you and Soul."
"You mean- if I-?" Why does that matter? Why does that make a difference? If it's not about me seeing things, but about him and I…
Soul was slipping away from the conversation just in time to catch the sway of her body and the way Reggie rested comfortably in her arms. It's not fair, Maka- the way you hold him sometimes. He tried to shake the name out of his head because each time it seemed to make a daring dip towards his lips and he could only just catch it. Soul's saunter back picked up as soon as he saw the pale face appear over Maka's shoulder. "Crona." It was more a growl than a greeting.
"Oh- uh- Soul-" they stuttered off each sound with squeaky sharpness.
"He was apologizing," Maka prodded softly but found Soul's skin impervious to it.
Soul's face stayed as stone. "Then if he's done, he can join his mama. Maybe she'll get more outta him than outta me."
Under Soul's harsh glare, Crona further shriveled and offered no final words. A weak wave was the only thing that parted them. Maka watched the unfortunate figure skitter over to the pair of women whose eyes bored into her, trying to tear flesh from bone.
It was Soul's soft hand on her elbow that woke her. "Ready?" His voice was now entirely thawed, half a smile starting to emerge on his face.
"Set," she murmured as her face mirrored his, some of the stress of the moment fading away.
"Go!" Reggie piped.
"Ridiculous," Soul chuckled. "C'mere. You're too big to be weighin' Ms. Albarn down." He easily lifted Reggie out of her arms and onto his hip. "And Reggie, if you ever move from the spot I tell you again-"
"Clara said-"
"Clara's word means nothin'," he spat back sternly.
Clara, blared in Maka's ears. Stop, it's not like he's talking sweetly about her. If her words are nothing to him… But as she tried to pull away from the picture of the two, Soul was turning soft eyes to her.
"See, and you scared Ms. Albarn half to death. You listen to me, papa, and her, and that's it."
"Not Granmama?" Reggie looked at him incredulously.
"Well, sometimes," Soul muttered back. He risked another glance at Maka, catching the remnants of worry on her face. The whisper of her name started in his mind again stubbornly, unrelenting in its want to be heard. After slipping Reggie down to the ground to bound through the grass, Soul let his hand drop, making one swing in the cool of the breeze before finding hers.
She jumped and for a terrifying second he was sure she'd pull away, but her shoulders suddenly unwound as her hand relaxed into his. "Your hands are always so cold," she admonished but still gripped the icy fingers against her warmth.
"Tol' you, always cool," he murmured back through half a smirk. The meandering church folk were disappearing behind them as the three started the path Maka and Blake had taken so many nights before. "You alright?"
"That was… strange," Maka followed with a conflicted breath, half ready to drown in the fear again but still clutching to that purpose.
"You see what you were supposed to see?" Soul continued as his eyes drifted gently over her face.
"Watch where you're going," Maka scolded. "You're going to fall and crack your head-"
"I know my business," he snapped back playfully as he squeezed her hand. "You see somethin'?"
"More than something," she murmured back glumly. "I need to talk to Nana Rung."
"I'll take you tonight," Soul answered without any more prompting as he finally let his sight roam away from her.
"Thank you." It felt small, inconsequential so she punctuated it with another play of her fingers in his. He always seems to make things his responsibility. Things that maybe he shouldn't have to carry. Just like… "Soul, if there's anything I can do, something that would- I don't know…"
"Ah, you owe me," he chuckled. "Or you think you do. You do a good job with Reggie, so I guess my thinkin' is we're even."
"I don't do that for you," Maka corrected.
"Yeah!" Reggie jumped onto her reasoning as he zoomed back in the grass. Little fingers attempted to break the connection but Soul resisted, lifting their joined hands out of reach. "Ms. Albarn loves me just for me, Uncle!"
"Loves you, huh?" He prodded back as his eyebrows overexpressed histrionically. "Since when?"
"Since forever!" The little boy urged back. "Right, Ms. Albarn?" Now he was clutching into the skirt of her dress, tugging away her attention.
They reached the fence and Soul caught Reggie, tossing him over the side playfully as the little boy harrumphed. He leaned into the rail as he copy-catted, "Right, Ms. Albarn?"
"I've definitely grown to love you, Reggie." Maka tried to negotiate the slat as ladylike as possible, using one hand on the wood to balance while the other rumpled her skirt against her. "But love at first sight is a little too romantic, isn't it?"
Soul's laugh in reply was dry, scuttering up his throat as he tried to settle into the splintered prickle of the wood. "Wouldn't know the first thing about that."