Disclaimer: I don't own Psychonauts!
Title: They're Just Baby Ts to Me, Baby
Summary: Dad chides the language, then explains what they actually mean- that they're for accidents. People who die on the roadway for various reasons. They go to graveyards, but they place reminders so people know that you maybe shouldn't speed in this part of town. That makes sense, Razputin decides. That doesn't explain the ones in the fields.
Setting: Pre-Canon
...
The circus is always moving. It is flight in motion- free, springy, and reeking a bit of old peanuts. At five, Razputin knows no other life, no other way to be. It's as natural as breathing. He adores it.
But then he notices the crosses.
They're everywhere. Street corners, train tracks, highways. Dion says they're reminders of stupid people. Frazie tells him to shut the fuck up and clocks him a good one. Dad chides the language, then explains what they actually mean- that they're for accidents. People who die on the roadway for various reasons. They go to graveyards, but they place reminders so people know that you maybe shouldn't speed in this part of town. That makes sense, Razputin decides.
That doesn't explain the ones in the fields.
Dad's shoulders twitch, face stony, as he tells him to stop asking questions like that. Frazie and Dion share a look before pulling him away.
Sometimes, the circus flies at nighttime. Razputin is too young to be awake for most of it. He hears the tell-tale sounds of packing, the low muttering of Augustus and Donatella as they decide who should drive first, and then he's in Frazie's arms, being dumped on the back stoop of the caravan with Nona. Razputin always sits with Nona. But he likes it that way, even as he blurrily tucks his legs in and sets his chin on his knees.
This time of night, Nona is at her peak… Not-Nona. There's no real way to describe her. There's a sort of air to her: a quiet, mystifying force that leaves wrinkles on her face and aches to her bones. For a moment, Razputin remembers Nona was young, once. And he can't help but think she was much, much scarier than Mom ever was.
"Where are we going?" he slurs, eyes half-lidded.
"I don't know, pootie," she says. It's a very solemn voice she has, this time of day. "We're just… going."
Razputin grunts and watches in the night as their newest home gets smaller and smaller. The night is absent of its typical animal noises as flashlights sweep the trees, gruff voices whisper in his ears. Razputin tries to focus on them, but all he can tell is that they're very, very angry.
Nona tsks, rubbing a hand through his hair. "They never forgave us, pootie," she says, and Razputin is still too young to understand what that means. "They think we're mind readers. Mentalists."
Razputin grimaces and stares at his dirty feet. If only Nona knew. "What's gonna happen if they catch us?"
"They won't," she promises.
It starts to rain.
And as dusk turns to a murky, gray dawn, Razputin watches from the distance as farmers carry crosses into their fields. And he asks, "Nona, why do they do that?"
"People drown, Razputin. They think fencing themselves in with corpses will keep the Grulovians away, since we were never able to bury our own." Nona nods, sagely, and wrings out her thick braid. "As if letting them sleep in their beds was such a bad fate, no?"
Author's Note: Going through my drabble prompts to decide what I wanna post and I'm just uber fond of Weird Cryptid Nona and bapy "fortuneteller" Raz being psychically pulled towards one another for some weird morning convos like this lol.
-Mandaree1