After almost an hour of constant prodding and poking – having gotten this
far, he was not about to give up his advantage – O'aka managed to pry out
of the twins most of what had happened: they had been caught by Sin at sea,
and separated from their parents. O'aka, frankly, was more than a bit
astonished that either of them was amongst the living, and Celina hardly
had to elaborate on whether her parents were still alive or not for O'aka
to get the gist of things. Indeed, she had managed to steer clear of the
subject of her parents as soon as her father had pushed them on board the
raft in her narrative. Mahri, throughout it all, remained silent, merely
nodding at certain points as if to verify his sisters' claims.
His interrogation complete, O'aka pushed back in his rocker, puffing on a newly lit pipe in deep thought. Small, concentric circles floated up into the air, breaking apart into nothingness upon reaching the rough, wooded summit of the room. What to do, what to do.
O'aka wasn't sure, of course; it was a new situation to him completely. The very concept of having kids under his roof, under his very care, was one that had never occurred to him in his long life. Be born, sell lots of junk, relax for a few years, and die. It had been his plan for life, and though it could not be called particularly ambitious by most people, it worked well for O'aka.
But. . . no kids. No, no, no. There was no sub-section of the equation that brought tiny, smelly children into play, pitiable and mourning though they may be.
Yet, he couldn't just throw them out.
With a loud, nervous cough, O'aka attempted to muster up a sufficiently business-like authority for himself. The less emotional the next few minutes got, the better it would be for him. How he would keep things outside of the emotional when dealing with an eight and a five year old, however, was beyond him.
"Okay, kids. . . I think we have some things to talk about. Now, first off, I'd just like ta say that you're really nice and all, but, this place is just too small for three people. So you can't stay here. Okay?"
They nodded mutely.
"Okay. So. Next. I see you're obviously Al Bhed, and you've told me as such. Right?"
Nod.
"Okay. Good. See, there's another problem right there. Do you two know about Yevon, perchance?"
Mahri contemplated the word a moment, but Celina piped up immediately: "Yes. They hate us, mommy said." Mahri sagely agreed with this assessment.
The answer drew a gulp from O'aka. "Erm. . . yes, I suppose it's something along those lines. . . tell me, lass, do you know why they dislike you?"
She pondered. "I think it's machina, right?"
O'aka was delighted. "Yes, very good! Smart girl! Now, I personally don't have a problem with all that machina stuff. But, see, everyone else on this island does. They're all Yevonites, and really stiff ones, at that. If they found out you two were here, there would be a fair bit of. . . unpleasantness." A habit O'aka had developed over the years of wringing his hands together manifested itself at this moment, quite unknown to the aged merchant. "So they can't know you're here. You have ta get off this island, lickity-split."
The twins could not have been more silent at this development. Celina looked a little terrified, as always, and Mahri wore an expression that practically screamed "Okay, what else you got then, you old coot?"
"So yes." O'aka whet his lips and stroked his beard, mind racing. "Boats only come here every two months or so. And the last one was, I dunno, two weeks ago. . .? Either way, they bring supplies and such, but you can buy passage on for rather cheap. It's how I got here in the first place, you know."
Mahri's expression shifted ever so slightly, ridiculing O'aka with "Oh? No shit?"
Frankly put, O'aka was more than a little fed up with the boy, but how could one lose their temper with a five year old and actually win out in the end?
"I'll pay your way, if you want. I don't use money much out here, and I have a nice nest egg stashed away in my little cabin here. Still, that's. . . all I can do."
His fingers grappled with one another in a self-absorbed war. "But. . . the next one won't be here for a good six weeks. . . so-"
His thought was disturbed by a sudden, harsh knock on his front door. "Citizen O'aka! Are you home?" The voice was deep and low, with a somewhat melodic undertone that gave one the impression of its owner being an excellent orator. O'aka, however, only looked very, very panicked at the interruption.
"Oh, bugger. Uh, uh, uh. . . kids, under the covers, and don't move. Not. One. Inch." His harsh whisper managed to absolutely frighten Celina even further; Mahri, ever the pragmatist, simply dove into the blankets, dragging his sister with him.
---
Reverend Edmund Skarab – and a self-proclaimed Reverend, at that – was a man of Yevon, pure and simple. Dubbed 'Preacher' by all those who knew him, his mission was to not only spread the faith, but reinforce it: his was a belief that went beyond a normal Yevonite, even for those who lived on Haliki. There was ever a roiling, tenuous fire rumbling deep in his throat, ready to explode given sufficient provocation: conversely, however, his voice could be full of enlightened honey, extolling all the virtues of Yevon in the manner of a great monarch delivering a speech to his subjects. One either adored, or despised, the Preacher; O'aka managed to fall into the latter half.
Normally, that would be all: despite all his thunder, there still remained the fact that O'aka had come to the island three years before the Preacher, and thus, possessed a form of seniority that kept the annoying religious fanatic off his back. Were the tables turned, O'aka was sure, he'd have been booted from the tiny paradise ages ago.
At the moment, however, the Preacher managed to instil in O'aka the most profound sense of abject panic he'd felt since the great market crash almost twenty years earlier. Why now, why now? He thought in a tizzy, making quicker tracks towards the front door than a man of his age should have been able to manage. It flew open, hinges creaking, to reveal a huge, rather intimidating figure, face beaming with malicious good cheer. "Ah, hello, Citizen O'aka! Yevon be with you!"
"Uh, yes, hello, Preacher. I'm sorry, I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment; just fixing myself di-"
"Ahhh, my apologies! I just wanted to ask if you'd been attending my services lately. I haven't seen you in the pews. They're important, you know." The big man threw a rather suggestive wink at O'aka; O'aka could barely restrain either a shudder or a laugh, he wasn't sure which.
"Sorry, Preacher, you know me. I'm always padfootin' my way around, here and there, and I lose track of the days so easily-"
"Of course, of course. But, you know, Yevon waits for no man: if you do not seek salvation quickly, all is lost for your soul. Correct?" The Preacher's pearly teeth positively shone at this sentiment: and had he been twenty years younger, O'aka probably would have taken a nice, strong swing at every last one of them with his fist. The disadvantages of age, he thought inwardly to himself, a sigh echoing in every last nook of his brain.
"Yes, Preacher. I'll be there next week."
"Splendid! And be sure to drop in for a prayer every now and then. My fellow Citizens and I often worry about you. We only want what is best for your immortal being."
"Mmm, I'll bet you do. Thanks, Preacher. Now if you'll excuse me, I think my squid is charring. Good day to you." O'aka finished glibly.
"And to you, Citizen. Yevon be with you always." Rustling in his robes, Preacher bowed, gave the traditional hand signal of respect, and departed, his mind ever on Yevon.
O'aka spun curtly and slammed the door shut. "I'll give you a prayer all right, you big goat. Coast is clear, kiddies!"
Both twins emerged: Mahri's nose was slightly wrinkled in distaste at the sheets. "Smells old." He muttered to himself. Celina didn't seem to notice. "Who was that, O'aka, sir?"
O'aka, wandering in and resuming his spot in the rocker, waved a hand. "That's the Preacher. Good for nuthin' lout, he is. Stay away from him: I think he'd go into a conniption fit if he found out you were 'ere. And none of that 'sir' hogwash, you hear? It's just O'aka." He sighed. "What the bloody devil am I gonna do with you two. . ."
Celina scratched her head. "What's a . . . conn-nip-siun?"
O'aka opened his mouth a moment, then closed it. What to tell a kid? "Uh. . . just picture his head blowin' sky-high, clear off his shoulders, and you'd be at least halfway there."
Despite her dreary mood, Celine couldn't help but giggle at the thought. Even the corners of Mahri's mouth rose an almost imperceptible amount.
That sound was like music to O'aka. He'd been alone for so long – granted, there were villagers about, but none of them ever visited him, and he avoided the village as just about everybody there got on his nerves – that laughter reminded him of how much he enjoyed the company of others. He laughed, too, and tossed her a genuine, if somewhat unpractised, smile.
Oh hell, why not.
". . . You kids can stay here, if you want. Until a boat turns up, whenever that'll be. It's not like we have much of an alternative anyway, eh?"
Celina bowed, somewhat formally. "Thank you." There was still real sadness behind those words, as the whole situation had become a sort of realization and recognition for the young girl: her parents were dead. This man was taking care of the No'Jar twins now.
The thought made her eyes well up with tears again. She sobbed. O'aka let her and her brother be, retreating into his living room and sighing.
One dinner and a fine dessert of chilled, flavoured ice later, O'aka laid down the ground rules. No entering the village. This was an absolute taboo course of action. Avoid anybody who comes near the house, excluding O'aka. The old merchant made sure to show the twins various excellent hiding places scattered amongst the environs that surrounded his cottage. No leaving the house past six o'clock. No leaving the boundaries of O'aka's property. No usage of his rowboat without first asking. And so forth from there. O'aka was very explicit in his rules, ever the stickler for details, and made sure the twins knew each and every one before letting them go to explore the grounds.
Mahri caught on very quickly: even though he was somewhat insolent towards O'aka at times, he managed grasped every rule and, despite not always understanding the rationale behind each one, he knew that grownups generally knew what they were doing. O'aka didn't seem to be an exception to this rule for the most part.
Celina, however, had some difficulty: she couldn't always remember where the hiding spots were, and the thought that she couldn't interact with anybody beyond O'aka and Mahri was a bit disconcerting to her normally outgoing mindset. Eventually, however, he managed to impress upon her the importance of keeping a low profile – or so he thought, anyway – and she reluctantly agreed to his request.
The first few weeks were a time of particular difficulty. Celina, seldom cautious, very nearly got caught by the Preacher on two occasions: he had taken to visiting O'aka more and more often in an effort to persuade the merchant to pray diligently. Mahri thought him an absolute nuisance, and hard to listen to, with his booming voice and long- winded orations, not that Mahri described them as such. He became the 'long and loud guy' to the stolid boy. Not that O'aka minded, really, as Mahri always did as he was told, a trait that could not be applied to Celina at all.
She stayed out after dark, playing gaily in the jungle and sending O'aka on long romps after her. She floated out into the bay in O'aka's rowboat on three separate occasions, after which O'aka simply hid the boat in the shed. After five days, she started complaining about the repetitious squid meal. She nagged O'aka for keeping such a smelly bed, even though the old man yielded it up to the twins in exchange for his somewhat uncomfortable couch.
O'aka was annoyed, exasperated, indignant, and swore often. He was also, although he didn't know it, very, very happy. After four weeks of occupation, he hardly wanted Celina to leave.
Or Mahri, for that matter. Despite being rather cold and withdrawn, the boy was interesting company: Mahri seemed, at least to O'aka, to possess a very real form of adult intelligence that far outstretched his years. Where Mahri's parents failed, O'aka succeeded in teaching Mahri a decent amount of English, and the lad began to surpass his sister linguistically. He was also a nice change from Celina, every now and then, whose exuberance managed to wear out O'aka's tired bones come lunchtime.
By the end of those four weeks, Celina had even allowed O'aka to hold her tightly as she cried about her lost mother and father. He had sat, rocking her gently, underneath the stars, a few tears running down his own face. Mahri hadn't even begrudged him the event, leaving them both in peace: then again, Mahri had seldom shown emotion of any kind.
By week five, they were a true family. O'aka happily prepared any meal that was within his power for them. His expertly prepared squid, served with a dash of spice and a few veggies, quickly regained Celina's good graces. He took them both out to fish often, and though Celina was rather clumsy with the rod, Mahri managed to show great aptitude, catching four fish in his efforts. The boy had good reactions, and very nimble fingers: with some muscle behind those digits, O'aka figured he could be quite a force to be reckoned with, some day.
Celina even began to call O'aka 'grandpa'. That word filled O'aka with a joy beyond anything his lonely heart had ever known, a heart that had suddenly burst forth from dormancy and shone. And, even though he dismissed the word outwardly with exclamations of 'Ahh, I'm too clumsy with a wrench to be some Al Bhed's grand pappy', Celina always saw the gentle curves of his mouth arch upwards whenever she used it.
By the beginning of the sixth week, O'aka had all but decided to simply quit the island and find a new place for them to live: a place where they could live openly, as his grandchildren.
---
But fate would not allow such a thing; and Celina, seeking a break from solitude, shattered one of O'aka's rules, ruining paradise within paradise.
---
O'aka and Mahri were off preparing lunch – Mahri had taken to observing his new patron, with a mixture of partial distrust and absolute curiosity – when Celina invited disaster upon their tiny family. She was in the jungle, leaping nimbly over logs and chirruping at all the birds as she passed, when she managed to spot a young boy. He was some distance from her own position, and somewhat preoccupied, utilizing both stick and a particular poking motion together in a synchronized effort.
Her first instinct was, "Good, he hasn't seen me; time to run." But her first instinct was, generally speaking, overridden quickly: this was reinforced by the fact that the boy appeared to be of her own age. Throw in that he seemed to have located something of interest, and Celina was already bounding towards him, friendly grin displayed wide.
"Hi!" she called out, startling the boy. He fell over with a tiny shriek, stick flying through the air and coming to a rest in the leafy jungle floor.
She stood above him, a friendly hand of aid proffered. He gazed at her, a little struck: it was a small island, after all, and she was an absolute stranger. Blinking rapidly, he took the offered fingers and rose, grasping his stick.
"Um. . . Yevon be with you." His hands displayed for her the customary Yevonite flourish, one that she puzzled at.
"What's that?"
He blinked. "What's what?" He didn't know what was more puzzling, her accent or the fact that he had done something mysterious to her.
"That thing. What you did with your . . . uh. . . hands! Your hands there. It looke-d. . . uh . . . "
She pondered. He watched. Utterly baffled. Her broken, occasionally slurred English was an extreme oddity for one who had always grown up amongst his own kind.
As she watched, something else queer about her struck him: it was in her face, her . . . eyes.
---
"The eyes that swirl are the sign of the devil, my son. Of Sin. If you see them, you must tell me. Tell me immediately, so that I might exorcise them from this paradise for good."
---
Those eyes, those vortex-like eyes, they threatened to engulf the boy, to pull in his soul. And he wouldn't allow that, now would he?
". . . goofy! That's the word! It looked goofy. . . what's wrong?"
The boy had drawn back, face flushed. He was caught between fear and rage. Turning, he screamed but one sentence before escaping into the bush: "Al Bhed heretic! Demon!"
His interrogation complete, O'aka pushed back in his rocker, puffing on a newly lit pipe in deep thought. Small, concentric circles floated up into the air, breaking apart into nothingness upon reaching the rough, wooded summit of the room. What to do, what to do.
O'aka wasn't sure, of course; it was a new situation to him completely. The very concept of having kids under his roof, under his very care, was one that had never occurred to him in his long life. Be born, sell lots of junk, relax for a few years, and die. It had been his plan for life, and though it could not be called particularly ambitious by most people, it worked well for O'aka.
But. . . no kids. No, no, no. There was no sub-section of the equation that brought tiny, smelly children into play, pitiable and mourning though they may be.
Yet, he couldn't just throw them out.
With a loud, nervous cough, O'aka attempted to muster up a sufficiently business-like authority for himself. The less emotional the next few minutes got, the better it would be for him. How he would keep things outside of the emotional when dealing with an eight and a five year old, however, was beyond him.
"Okay, kids. . . I think we have some things to talk about. Now, first off, I'd just like ta say that you're really nice and all, but, this place is just too small for three people. So you can't stay here. Okay?"
They nodded mutely.
"Okay. So. Next. I see you're obviously Al Bhed, and you've told me as such. Right?"
Nod.
"Okay. Good. See, there's another problem right there. Do you two know about Yevon, perchance?"
Mahri contemplated the word a moment, but Celina piped up immediately: "Yes. They hate us, mommy said." Mahri sagely agreed with this assessment.
The answer drew a gulp from O'aka. "Erm. . . yes, I suppose it's something along those lines. . . tell me, lass, do you know why they dislike you?"
She pondered. "I think it's machina, right?"
O'aka was delighted. "Yes, very good! Smart girl! Now, I personally don't have a problem with all that machina stuff. But, see, everyone else on this island does. They're all Yevonites, and really stiff ones, at that. If they found out you two were here, there would be a fair bit of. . . unpleasantness." A habit O'aka had developed over the years of wringing his hands together manifested itself at this moment, quite unknown to the aged merchant. "So they can't know you're here. You have ta get off this island, lickity-split."
The twins could not have been more silent at this development. Celina looked a little terrified, as always, and Mahri wore an expression that practically screamed "Okay, what else you got then, you old coot?"
"So yes." O'aka whet his lips and stroked his beard, mind racing. "Boats only come here every two months or so. And the last one was, I dunno, two weeks ago. . .? Either way, they bring supplies and such, but you can buy passage on for rather cheap. It's how I got here in the first place, you know."
Mahri's expression shifted ever so slightly, ridiculing O'aka with "Oh? No shit?"
Frankly put, O'aka was more than a little fed up with the boy, but how could one lose their temper with a five year old and actually win out in the end?
"I'll pay your way, if you want. I don't use money much out here, and I have a nice nest egg stashed away in my little cabin here. Still, that's. . . all I can do."
His fingers grappled with one another in a self-absorbed war. "But. . . the next one won't be here for a good six weeks. . . so-"
His thought was disturbed by a sudden, harsh knock on his front door. "Citizen O'aka! Are you home?" The voice was deep and low, with a somewhat melodic undertone that gave one the impression of its owner being an excellent orator. O'aka, however, only looked very, very panicked at the interruption.
"Oh, bugger. Uh, uh, uh. . . kids, under the covers, and don't move. Not. One. Inch." His harsh whisper managed to absolutely frighten Celina even further; Mahri, ever the pragmatist, simply dove into the blankets, dragging his sister with him.
---
Reverend Edmund Skarab – and a self-proclaimed Reverend, at that – was a man of Yevon, pure and simple. Dubbed 'Preacher' by all those who knew him, his mission was to not only spread the faith, but reinforce it: his was a belief that went beyond a normal Yevonite, even for those who lived on Haliki. There was ever a roiling, tenuous fire rumbling deep in his throat, ready to explode given sufficient provocation: conversely, however, his voice could be full of enlightened honey, extolling all the virtues of Yevon in the manner of a great monarch delivering a speech to his subjects. One either adored, or despised, the Preacher; O'aka managed to fall into the latter half.
Normally, that would be all: despite all his thunder, there still remained the fact that O'aka had come to the island three years before the Preacher, and thus, possessed a form of seniority that kept the annoying religious fanatic off his back. Were the tables turned, O'aka was sure, he'd have been booted from the tiny paradise ages ago.
At the moment, however, the Preacher managed to instil in O'aka the most profound sense of abject panic he'd felt since the great market crash almost twenty years earlier. Why now, why now? He thought in a tizzy, making quicker tracks towards the front door than a man of his age should have been able to manage. It flew open, hinges creaking, to reveal a huge, rather intimidating figure, face beaming with malicious good cheer. "Ah, hello, Citizen O'aka! Yevon be with you!"
"Uh, yes, hello, Preacher. I'm sorry, I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment; just fixing myself di-"
"Ahhh, my apologies! I just wanted to ask if you'd been attending my services lately. I haven't seen you in the pews. They're important, you know." The big man threw a rather suggestive wink at O'aka; O'aka could barely restrain either a shudder or a laugh, he wasn't sure which.
"Sorry, Preacher, you know me. I'm always padfootin' my way around, here and there, and I lose track of the days so easily-"
"Of course, of course. But, you know, Yevon waits for no man: if you do not seek salvation quickly, all is lost for your soul. Correct?" The Preacher's pearly teeth positively shone at this sentiment: and had he been twenty years younger, O'aka probably would have taken a nice, strong swing at every last one of them with his fist. The disadvantages of age, he thought inwardly to himself, a sigh echoing in every last nook of his brain.
"Yes, Preacher. I'll be there next week."
"Splendid! And be sure to drop in for a prayer every now and then. My fellow Citizens and I often worry about you. We only want what is best for your immortal being."
"Mmm, I'll bet you do. Thanks, Preacher. Now if you'll excuse me, I think my squid is charring. Good day to you." O'aka finished glibly.
"And to you, Citizen. Yevon be with you always." Rustling in his robes, Preacher bowed, gave the traditional hand signal of respect, and departed, his mind ever on Yevon.
O'aka spun curtly and slammed the door shut. "I'll give you a prayer all right, you big goat. Coast is clear, kiddies!"
Both twins emerged: Mahri's nose was slightly wrinkled in distaste at the sheets. "Smells old." He muttered to himself. Celina didn't seem to notice. "Who was that, O'aka, sir?"
O'aka, wandering in and resuming his spot in the rocker, waved a hand. "That's the Preacher. Good for nuthin' lout, he is. Stay away from him: I think he'd go into a conniption fit if he found out you were 'ere. And none of that 'sir' hogwash, you hear? It's just O'aka." He sighed. "What the bloody devil am I gonna do with you two. . ."
Celina scratched her head. "What's a . . . conn-nip-siun?"
O'aka opened his mouth a moment, then closed it. What to tell a kid? "Uh. . . just picture his head blowin' sky-high, clear off his shoulders, and you'd be at least halfway there."
Despite her dreary mood, Celine couldn't help but giggle at the thought. Even the corners of Mahri's mouth rose an almost imperceptible amount.
That sound was like music to O'aka. He'd been alone for so long – granted, there were villagers about, but none of them ever visited him, and he avoided the village as just about everybody there got on his nerves – that laughter reminded him of how much he enjoyed the company of others. He laughed, too, and tossed her a genuine, if somewhat unpractised, smile.
Oh hell, why not.
". . . You kids can stay here, if you want. Until a boat turns up, whenever that'll be. It's not like we have much of an alternative anyway, eh?"
Celina bowed, somewhat formally. "Thank you." There was still real sadness behind those words, as the whole situation had become a sort of realization and recognition for the young girl: her parents were dead. This man was taking care of the No'Jar twins now.
The thought made her eyes well up with tears again. She sobbed. O'aka let her and her brother be, retreating into his living room and sighing.
One dinner and a fine dessert of chilled, flavoured ice later, O'aka laid down the ground rules. No entering the village. This was an absolute taboo course of action. Avoid anybody who comes near the house, excluding O'aka. The old merchant made sure to show the twins various excellent hiding places scattered amongst the environs that surrounded his cottage. No leaving the house past six o'clock. No leaving the boundaries of O'aka's property. No usage of his rowboat without first asking. And so forth from there. O'aka was very explicit in his rules, ever the stickler for details, and made sure the twins knew each and every one before letting them go to explore the grounds.
Mahri caught on very quickly: even though he was somewhat insolent towards O'aka at times, he managed grasped every rule and, despite not always understanding the rationale behind each one, he knew that grownups generally knew what they were doing. O'aka didn't seem to be an exception to this rule for the most part.
Celina, however, had some difficulty: she couldn't always remember where the hiding spots were, and the thought that she couldn't interact with anybody beyond O'aka and Mahri was a bit disconcerting to her normally outgoing mindset. Eventually, however, he managed to impress upon her the importance of keeping a low profile – or so he thought, anyway – and she reluctantly agreed to his request.
The first few weeks were a time of particular difficulty. Celina, seldom cautious, very nearly got caught by the Preacher on two occasions: he had taken to visiting O'aka more and more often in an effort to persuade the merchant to pray diligently. Mahri thought him an absolute nuisance, and hard to listen to, with his booming voice and long- winded orations, not that Mahri described them as such. He became the 'long and loud guy' to the stolid boy. Not that O'aka minded, really, as Mahri always did as he was told, a trait that could not be applied to Celina at all.
She stayed out after dark, playing gaily in the jungle and sending O'aka on long romps after her. She floated out into the bay in O'aka's rowboat on three separate occasions, after which O'aka simply hid the boat in the shed. After five days, she started complaining about the repetitious squid meal. She nagged O'aka for keeping such a smelly bed, even though the old man yielded it up to the twins in exchange for his somewhat uncomfortable couch.
O'aka was annoyed, exasperated, indignant, and swore often. He was also, although he didn't know it, very, very happy. After four weeks of occupation, he hardly wanted Celina to leave.
Or Mahri, for that matter. Despite being rather cold and withdrawn, the boy was interesting company: Mahri seemed, at least to O'aka, to possess a very real form of adult intelligence that far outstretched his years. Where Mahri's parents failed, O'aka succeeded in teaching Mahri a decent amount of English, and the lad began to surpass his sister linguistically. He was also a nice change from Celina, every now and then, whose exuberance managed to wear out O'aka's tired bones come lunchtime.
By the end of those four weeks, Celina had even allowed O'aka to hold her tightly as she cried about her lost mother and father. He had sat, rocking her gently, underneath the stars, a few tears running down his own face. Mahri hadn't even begrudged him the event, leaving them both in peace: then again, Mahri had seldom shown emotion of any kind.
By week five, they were a true family. O'aka happily prepared any meal that was within his power for them. His expertly prepared squid, served with a dash of spice and a few veggies, quickly regained Celina's good graces. He took them both out to fish often, and though Celina was rather clumsy with the rod, Mahri managed to show great aptitude, catching four fish in his efforts. The boy had good reactions, and very nimble fingers: with some muscle behind those digits, O'aka figured he could be quite a force to be reckoned with, some day.
Celina even began to call O'aka 'grandpa'. That word filled O'aka with a joy beyond anything his lonely heart had ever known, a heart that had suddenly burst forth from dormancy and shone. And, even though he dismissed the word outwardly with exclamations of 'Ahh, I'm too clumsy with a wrench to be some Al Bhed's grand pappy', Celina always saw the gentle curves of his mouth arch upwards whenever she used it.
By the beginning of the sixth week, O'aka had all but decided to simply quit the island and find a new place for them to live: a place where they could live openly, as his grandchildren.
---
But fate would not allow such a thing; and Celina, seeking a break from solitude, shattered one of O'aka's rules, ruining paradise within paradise.
---
O'aka and Mahri were off preparing lunch – Mahri had taken to observing his new patron, with a mixture of partial distrust and absolute curiosity – when Celina invited disaster upon their tiny family. She was in the jungle, leaping nimbly over logs and chirruping at all the birds as she passed, when she managed to spot a young boy. He was some distance from her own position, and somewhat preoccupied, utilizing both stick and a particular poking motion together in a synchronized effort.
Her first instinct was, "Good, he hasn't seen me; time to run." But her first instinct was, generally speaking, overridden quickly: this was reinforced by the fact that the boy appeared to be of her own age. Throw in that he seemed to have located something of interest, and Celina was already bounding towards him, friendly grin displayed wide.
"Hi!" she called out, startling the boy. He fell over with a tiny shriek, stick flying through the air and coming to a rest in the leafy jungle floor.
She stood above him, a friendly hand of aid proffered. He gazed at her, a little struck: it was a small island, after all, and she was an absolute stranger. Blinking rapidly, he took the offered fingers and rose, grasping his stick.
"Um. . . Yevon be with you." His hands displayed for her the customary Yevonite flourish, one that she puzzled at.
"What's that?"
He blinked. "What's what?" He didn't know what was more puzzling, her accent or the fact that he had done something mysterious to her.
"That thing. What you did with your . . . uh. . . hands! Your hands there. It looke-d. . . uh . . . "
She pondered. He watched. Utterly baffled. Her broken, occasionally slurred English was an extreme oddity for one who had always grown up amongst his own kind.
As she watched, something else queer about her struck him: it was in her face, her . . . eyes.
---
"The eyes that swirl are the sign of the devil, my son. Of Sin. If you see them, you must tell me. Tell me immediately, so that I might exorcise them from this paradise for good."
---
Those eyes, those vortex-like eyes, they threatened to engulf the boy, to pull in his soul. And he wouldn't allow that, now would he?
". . . goofy! That's the word! It looked goofy. . . what's wrong?"
The boy had drawn back, face flushed. He was caught between fear and rage. Turning, he screamed but one sentence before escaping into the bush: "Al Bhed heretic! Demon!"