Kyle wondered if his hand had ever shaken as much crafting his native script as it was now.
A venomous mix of overarching tension from Grego'ri's infuriatingly ambiguous warning and wanting to get himself back outside was weighing him down. He'd barely slept the night prior, only able to stare blankly at the rainbow band beaming from Kenny's glass as it plastered so snugly against his wall. He'd just watched, as though the answers would come shooting out of the radiance, as though history would be rewritten, where aikopia and faterian knew of one another and lived in peace and the aidarkeri never fucking happened.
He groaned, setting his quill aside, careful to avoid an unseemly splatter over his parchment, before raking his fingers up through untamed curls. This didn't make any sense. He'd never gone near an aidarkeri. If they had crossed paths, he would've been killed on sight if years of routine were any indication. So how would they know who he was, let alone be after him? His bottom lip stung as he grinded it between his teeth, brow furrowed as he stared at the looping script resting atop his desk. He supposed it didn't truly matter, something was happening, and he'd just have to find out what whenever it came along, he had far more important things to keep his focus on now.
Forty-four characters sat written in bold, swooping black beneath him, his aikopian word guide askew beside it as he'd frantically scoured through for the closest sounds to match up to their lettering. Pronunciation was hard, his only skills in the aikopians' language only useable due to their ignorance of his hiding within the trees and on their rooftops in the pitch black of night, picking up key phrases and enough of a basis to figure out where to go from there.
It'd been an arduous process, going at such a trudging pace had had him yearning to fly himself head-first into the mountainside. It was years of not understanding what the fuck a y was and why it was so fucking common. It was a good six months of an aikopians' joking banter riddling him devastated that he'd been mixing up their greetings and good-byes before he'd worked that tangle out. It was having zero basis for their numbering system and unable to differentiate if someone was pleased or angered regarding amounts of crops yielded. Misunderstandings, countless self-corrections, and far too much frustration involved in hiding his hobby had weighed him down for so damn long.
It was infuriating, it was tedious, it was a skill he didn't need.
But it was worth it, he told himself as he glanced towards the list of numbers Kenny had crafted him. He plopped his head down atop his arms, once again running through the list and whispering them aloud, stumbling on more than he cared to admit. He found himself stuck on four yet again, his eyes narrowing angrily. He'd been told verbatim how it was said, but why the fuck was hour pronounced differently then?!
"They're doing this just to torture me," he huffed, shaking his head and sitting back up. He plopped his chin into his palm and sighed, eyes drooping. Maybe this was Tav'nokana's punishment. Maybe She wanted him to just frustrate himself into obedience; brought down from his efforts among the monumental weight of complicated syntax and an ever-growing list of baffling homophones.
He glanced out his window, noting the light tinge of rose starting to brush the edge of glass plastering the mountainside and his heart leapt. He needed to go before he missed Kenny yet again. He hopped to his feet, fingers running lightly over his page to check the ink before slamming his notebook shut upon it and beginning to shove his materials into his satchel. He glanced at Kenny's numbers again, gripping them in a delicate hold, head swiveling between his bag and closet. Maybe there was no real harm in keeping them on his person. He'd lied his way out of possessing aikopian wares before, he could continue to do so as much as need-be.
A sharp knock against his wall snapped him into a decision, fragility lost as he shoved the note between his sketchbook and tome in his bag and cleared his throat, leaning back against his desk as nonchalantly as he could muster through a pounding heart.
"Y-yeah?" he called, glancing at his desk once more for any stray suspicious material. He glanced at a bright blue light emitting against his wall and slumped in slight relief. Just Ike.
He watched his brother step through the barrier with another in tow, the two of them nearly eye-to-eye and still towering a good few inches above Kyle himself. He cocked his brow, wings stretching behind him aimlessly. "What?"
Ike jutted his thumb to his companion, "Filmore has a question."
Kyle switched stares to Ike's naichi, raising his brows in impatience. He didn't have the damn time for them to bug him like this.
"So," Filmore started, blankly scratching the front of his dust-touched tunic. "You do the plant stuff for the apothecaries, right?"
"Tweek and Becca, yes," he nodded. "Why?"
Filmore stepped closer, nose twitching slightly and Kyle frowned deeper, wanting to curl up in an unwitting defense. Foragers like Filmore were uncanny in their sense of smell, the kiantri swore up and down they could smell a particular blade of grass from a mile down the mountain range. Kyle hardly believed that was the case, but they were nearly as talked up as the treagi, and repetition made for at least some suspicion of truth.
"Do you know how their seed stock is? The farmers need their new batches picked out in a few weeks, we just need to know if you all need us to pick you up some, too."
Kyle blinked. He had no fucking idea. "Why didn't you ask them?"
"I did. They sent me to you," he said, a slight scowl hitting his lips and a glare cast in Ike's direction. Ike gave him a returning, warning grimace.
Kyle knew that look well enough to hear it loud and clear: "Be nice, my mother is still in the damn house." One time of Filmore being over for dinner and calling Kyle his reviled nickname had the boys' mother banning him from their place for nearly an entire season before finally relenting after Kyle had exhaustedly told her how he didn't care about the name-calling, but Ike's anger over the matter was starting to grate on him.
Lips twisting, Kyle moved to sling his bag over his shoulder and snatch his bow and quiver from beside his desk. "I don't have the records on me. I'll look tomorrow and tell Ike what we need."
"Whatever," he rolled his eyes. Kyle's sharp ears perked at a distinct muttering under his breath, "Knew he'd be useless."
"You're in our fucking house may I remind you," Kyle said coldly. "I'm sorry that I don't have our fucking leaf distribution memorized. That's not my nederi, I'm just being nice by making records at all. Or would you like to come in and count their stock by hand like you used to?" he raised his brow in challenge.
Ike stifled a small snort as Filmore straightened up and hazel eyes became swampy with the memory of his fateri self stuck in that nasty-smelling toli'fale for days on end, dropping a handful of blueberry seeds atop the pile they'd already amassed and having to start all over again. "…Sorry," he mumbled.
"Thanks, Kyle," Ike said, filling in for Filmore's lack of manners. He raised his brow at his brother readying to hop out his open window. "Where the fuck are you going? I thought you had all your nimikal'e delivered already."
"I did," he nodded, his shin resting on his windowsill as his wings snapped behind him. "Goin' out for… timing plants," he winced.
His face fell wryly. "Timing plants."
"Yeah. How long before the blossoms close and… whatnot. Not the same effect as, ya know, in here. They stay open longer in natural light and… stuff. Good for Tweek and Becca's notes," he said hurriedly. "So, get the fuck out of my room."
He rolled his eyes but pivoted slightly on his heel. "Should I tell Ma?"
"No!" he snapped. "I'll be home for dinner, just shut the fuck up and leave," he demanded, watching him wave him off and hopping out into the pseudo-open air as soon as they began crossing through the threshold. He shook his head, gaze fleeting to the rose along the glass surrounding him and gulping. He doubted the color had grown so much as a smidgeon in that brief dialogue, but every second counted after being so cooped up the last five days.
His mind echoed Grego'ri's warning and a shudder ran down his back and through his wings, but he scowled, shaking off the sensation. He was fine. He had his bow. He had his speed. He had the wits to get around any damn thing that tried to stand in his way… His eyes drifted up towards the gaping escape waiting for him across the mountainside, brow knitting determinedly.
The fear was gone, he had too much to lose if he just fell into step with the rest of his village. The kiantri, Grego'ri, Stan, the aidarkeri, and his mother could try all they wanted to keep him nestled in a little study by his lonesome for the rest of his life, but he wasn't going down without a fight.
The feeling was bizarre, the way the ridges of the mushroom conflicted with the ridges of calloused fingertips. Kenny hummed, grunting as he laid atop his stomach and stared at the vibrant blue of the mushrooms Kyle had dyed. The dye had faded in the slightest, Kenny certain that it was from Kyle's inability to trek out this way as much as he usually would.
He was no stranger to fading colors, had re-tinted his fair share of dresses and formal tunics in his day. It was a process he held a love-hate relationship with for several years. He hated the smells, how different plants would mesh into a floral palate that would have any gardening enthusiast vomiting at the intensity. He hated the stains that lasted for so long on his palms and anywhere else the concoction would splash, how purples and blues in particular just would not go away no matter how much he scrubbed.
"Time heals all wounds, but it doesn't clean dyes, does it?" Levick had teased him after an unfortunate mishap, Kenny spilling a cooling batch of muted blue all over his legs. Like he'd been left out in the cold for a fortnight, his mother had teased, his family commenting for nearly three weeks how he reeked of elder leaves.
But, he also loved the creation that came along with the procedure. There was nothing so satisfying as finding that perfect blend of leaves and berries and watching as white fabric turned so vibrant, like from an entirely separate world. The upkeep wasn't anything easy, and fading was the bane of his existence and the source of many a woe, but that initial feeling of watching dripping fabric being pulled from its tinted pool was unlike any other by means of satisfaction.
Even if it did stain his hands something fierce.
Kenny wondered why Kyle's blue faded so quickly. Granted, he didn't know Kyle's process of making his dyes, if it was a two-to-three day excursion like his own needs, or if Kyle merely mashed some flowers into paste and deemed it good enough.
His lips twisted. He wished his process was so simplistic. But, then again if it was, he wouldn't exactly have an excuse to keep coming out here. Not that he'd been able to procure much in the means of convincing his family as to his intentions anyway, only a handful of wild berries that only managed to dye a sample piece of tiretain an odd, splotchy pink.
"Not really worth the trip," Kevin had commented, but Kenny had a damn good knack for insisting that he would just have to have an eventual success.
Not that he told them to get their hopes awfully high or anything, but he could only do so much.
He let out a long groan, rolling over onto his back with a small oof and blinking at the sky transitioning into early evening. His eyes drooped sadly. He really wished that these trips would run him across some good free material. Token would probably give him a damn standing ovation if he managed to cut his expenses in the slightest. He doubted that just finding some extra leaves would aid him all that much, but he had to figure that something was better than nothing.
If they were really cutting it all that close, if he really had to seriously consider whoring himself out to larger cities and more varied demographics… He groaned louder, hitting his head back against the dirt with soft thunks. He really thought he had it made when he was a kid, that he'd lucked out with his apprenticeship and had the means to forever care for his family. Funny how life wanted to take the one talent he had and spit it back in his face and tell him he still wasn't good enough. Seemed to be the status quo for the McCormicks.
A soft rustling behind him perked his ears, his head leaning back against the dirt to see an upside-down Kyle smiling gleefully at him over the bushes, green wings flittering behind him in excitement. He rolled over, his own grin forming as Kyle's began to droop into a concerned frown.
"Are you all right?" Kyle asked softly, seeing the etching of misery still present over his face.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Kenny laughed awkwardly, scratching out the dirt nestled into the back of his scalp. "Just thinkin', nothin' important." He leaned forward a bit, caught in another round of dreamy disbelief as Kyle's wings gave a quick flutter to grant him some lift while he hopped over the shrubs in front of him.
He winced, shying down guiltily as he dropped down to the sides of his legs to meet his gaze. "I am sorry-"
"Don't be," Kenny cooed, waving off the culpable expression. "I know you're having to really sneak around t' get out here."
Kyle nodded, smiling sadly. "Still, I will try better."
"Kyle, seriously, if you don't show up, you don't show up. I get it, don't feel bad, I know you're not tellin' me to fuck off." Kyle's brow raised, searching his face for elaboration and Kenny cleared his throat. "Uh, you're not… telling me you don't want to talk anymore," he said slowly, smirking at the realization settling in. "So. Did ya get the glass to work?" he asked casually, unable to help mirroring Kyle as his entire demeanor lit up, green eyes sparkling with delight.
"Yes! How did the aikopia do such a thing?" he asked, nearly stumbling on his words from his excitement, throwing his bow and arrows down to his side. "You did not tell me you make lights as well!"
Kenny snorted, "I don't know who did it first, but I figured you'd like it. Me and my family had that piece for a damn long time, me and my brother and sister just used to use it to prop our door open."
Kyle's eyes narrowed, watching him suspiciously. "Why would you not…" he rolled his hands, "um…. M-make it… work at all times?"
"Use it?" he offered, Kyle sighing in relief at the help and nodding. He shrugged, "Well, we did when we were little kids, but we outgrew it."
That made no sense to Kyle. How anyone could simply toss such a marvel aside, how anyone wouldn't want to just sit and stare at the spectrum it so casually cast into the world… It didn't add up, the back part of his mind quietly wondering if there was a hint of truth in his village's claims of aikopian entitlement. "So… it is a toy. Like your yo-yo?"
He shook his head, moving to sit cross-legged, "Nah it's not a toy. It was just kinda a way for us to pass time. We didn't always have actual toys, so we just made do. Like you guys and your rocks," he shrugged.
He smiled, tucking curls behind his ear, "The rocks were not truly 'toys', they were more… um… tools. For… prac-tie-cing magic."
"Tiss."
"What?"
He chuckled, rolling and cracking his shoulders. "Prac-tiss-cing."
"Prac-tiss-cing," he repeated, nodding along with Kenny and fighting down a blush. "Your words… are very hard for me," he pouted.
He smiled sympathetically at the slight mortification settling on his slim profile, "You're doing great, I promise."
His frown deepened, hurriedly slipping off his bag from around his chest and shoulder and ripping out his notebooks. "I want to be better," he grumbled, pulling out Kenny's number list and pivoting to sit beside him. He pointed angrily at the last scripted line on the page. "How is this pronounced?" he demanded.
"One-hundred."
"Why is it hundred and not undred like hour? And why is how not ow. Why is hour spelled wrong?!"
He snorted, "It's not. It's just a silent letter."
He squinted at him, fingers curling in on the page in his hand. "Silent letter?"
Kenny nodded, "Yeah, there's a lot of 'em. Like in hour or uh… I guess in stuff like…" he looked around trying to come up with an example before his gaze fell down to their legs. "Like in knee," he poked Kyle's.
Kyle's head was spinning, brain wracked with exhaustion trying to match sounds to letters, what he thought to be previously-held knowledge conflicted with that of the recent lesson Kenny had unwittingly given him. "That would be… n-y. Correct? Like Ken-ny."
"No," he winced. "K-n-e-e."
Shoulders dropped along with Kyle's expression, eyes scanning around the dirt before them and landing back on the page in his shaking hands. "I… I do not understand," he finally said quietly, slumping. He felt so stupid, wondering if he'd been misreading entire books because the concepts were so far out of his realm of understanding.
Kenny's head tilted down to match his gaze, heart dropping at the upset over his face, "Hey, words are hard. You didn't grow up around 'em. If somethin' trips you… uh, confuses you," he amended, "just let me know and I'll help. You don't need to be embarrassed."
"I thought I was better than I am," he admitted, gently putting Kenny's paper atop his bag off the dirt. "Your words are… there are so many," he sighed, rubbing at an eye. "And I do not understand so many of them."
"You speak better than about half my town," Kenny chuckled, lightly patting his shoulder. "I doubt you only have a few words in your language."
He reached back to grab his word book, carefully slipping out his prepared paper and holding it towards him. "I made this for you, like you did for me," he said timidly, Kenny's eyes lighting up at the swooping scripts waiting for him and taking it from his grasp.
"Wow, there's a lot," he said breathlessly, grin nearly slicing through his face. He wondered if he was the first person to lay eyes on their language, if he was making history just sitting here in the middle of the woods with a very embarrassed faterian.
"Um, I… I tried to match closely to your own letters," Kyle mumbled, anxiety lessening slightly at a quiet noise of excitement Kenny couldn't quite contain. "But… we do not have… the silent letters as aikopia do."
Kenny nodded, scanning along the page slowly, trying to follow each swirl and cut of the lines and finding himself overwhelmed already. He couldn't imagine finding this on his own without someone with him to put it all together. How Kyle could speak one goddamn word outside of Faterian, he hadn't the slightest idea. "So, you have letters and sounds?" he pointed towards the ending of single-letter guides Kyle had placed onto two- and three-lettered aids.
Kyle squinted, "Are they not all sounds?"
Kenny opened his mouth before it shut and he let out a soft 'huh', bobbing his head in consideration. "Okay, true. But that's not what I mean." He pointed at a script with a hovering Da beside it. "Why can't you just put… the ones that are like just the D and A instead of a different letter for them together?"
Kyle bit his tongue, trying to find the words for the explanation he'd had to work himself through all afternoon. "They are… sometimes said differently. If the A was in Da it would be Day."
Kenny's eyes lit in understanding. "Ohhh okay okay I gotcha. So, yours all just make one sound."
"Yes," he nodded eagerly, beyond relieved he was able to make any amount of sense. He was terrified he'd be handing Kenny nothing but a paper of meaningless and baffling scribbles. Well, perhaps he still was, but Kenny looked enthralled all the same. He wondered if his own face had mirrored Kenny's the first time he'd stumbled across aikopian text, if he'd looked so immediately lost in the unfamiliar territory but so thrilled to have found it.
Blonde brows knit slightly as they continued along. "Wait, what about these?" he pointed to a grouping with Di and Fi and a small cluster of others of a similar wording. "These are like, die and fie, right? Why are they different?"
His face dropped once more. So much for making sense. "No, they are dee and fee… I-I thought it was like um… well, like practicing. Should I have used a y? Or something else? Why do your letters all have secrets?!" he asked, a river of stress running through his body yet again. He tried so damn hard.
Kenny looked at his obvious self-berating, giving a small, smiling headshake. "Don't freak out, Kyle. Now that you told me, I get it. See? I pronounce stuff wrong, too, because it's hard without help," he emphasized, watching the tension lighten if only slightly. "There's nothing wrong with… bein' wrong," he said.
Kyle pouted, arms crossing and wings lightly tapping against the dirt, knowing damn well he looked like a fateri denied flying around the mountainside with his friends by his ritavi, but feeling that it fit the mood quite well. "I do not like being wrong."
He snorted, "None of us do. But askin' for help isn't a bad thing, we all need it sometimes," he promised. "And you barely need it. You're way too hard on yourself, Kyle."
"If I was not, we would not be able to talk at all," he said, the ghost of a smile hitting the corner of his lips.
He granted him a light laugh, "Okay, that's fair. But now you have someone that can make it a lot easier on ya. You can take a few breaths now and then, because I can tell you're the type to always be high-strung tryin' t' figure this shit out, you just have that air about ya."
Kyle squinted lightly, biting his lower lip and trying to decide which part of his sentence to question. Kenny's offer or not, demanding answers for every little thing he said seemed a bit like taking advantage of his generosity. He settled with, "What is high-strung? Is it like… trying very hard?"
"Yes, and then getting angry when you can't get it right away," he smirked, chuckling at the telltale blush hitting fair cheeks. "So, I ain't wrong?" he teased.
"Did you not get upset learning to speak your words?"
Kenny waved his free hand between them, "I never said that. I was awful at our lessons. And I had a teacher and four friends with me to help. Plus, you know, living with our words. I picked up more through that than any book could teach me."
Kyle shifted uneasily, nodding. "Well, I do not have that option."
"Sure ya do, ya got me now," he grinned, flicking his arm lightly. "I ain't a town, but I never shut up. You'll be sick of human words before ya know it."
A light, involuntary giggle shook through his throat before he stopped it, though the smile remained, "If I have not by now, I do not think you will change that."
He shot him a small wink, "Mm don't challenge me, I'll take it." He glanced back down at the parchment in his fingers, still lost in awe at the unbelievable situation he'd found himself in the middle of. He looked back at Kyle continuing to simmer down and licked over his lips. "So, how would our names be spelled in your words?"
Kyle scooted a touch closer beside him, "The closest for yours would be Ke'ni," he pointed to the separate characters for him.
"What's the little letter next to the Ke?" Kenny squinted, seeing it hovering to the bottom right of several other letters.
He paused, teeth clacking in thought. "It has no sound… it tells you to… be quick," he chose carefully, wincing at the lost gaze Kenny shot him. "Um, you do not say it for long. It is not Kayyyy ni. The Ke' ends quick? With a stop?" he tried.
Kenny blinked, nodding as Kyle once again demonstrated a drawl compared to a harsh staccato note. "You mean it's just super short," he said, trying to walk himself through the explanation, getting a nod back and giving him a small smirk. "So, what you're telling me is, it's a silent letter."
Kyle pouted, "It is not a letter. It does not live in a word without purpose like your… sneaky h's and k's."
A long laugh from Kenny filled the air between them, Kyle finally slipping into ease at Kenny's relaxed stance. 'At least if he's judging me for being so dumb, he's silent about it,' Kyle thought. But, a part of him doubted such was the case. He seemed so interested, so encouraging and willing to help him. He wished he had the aikopian vernacular to express his gratitude, his utter relief that Kenny wasn't put-off by foolish mistakes and a naivety that he just hadn't been able to work past yet.
He wasn't aware he needed this approval, but he couldn't say it surprised him. Any studies that he brought before his people, he had to have someone proud of his work, or at the very least interested. Stan could fake it often enough to get him through some of his more off-beat research, Tweek and Becca were endlessly appreciative of what he did for them, the kiantri more than praised him for his forays into magic. But this, this entire world that he had stepped into blindfolded and alone, he'd not been able to receive such reassurance. It'd been off-putting more than once, the frustration and lack of support enough to make him consider abandoning it altogether a handful of times before managing to talk himself down… But, it was worth it.
It was so worth it.
"What about yours?" Kenny asked between his residual chuckles. "Because I had no idea how to spell yours for your note."
Kyle smiled awkwardly, "The way you did is fine," he promised. "In Faterian, it is closer to Kaile. But the aikopian way is nice, too." He pointed back to his written sheet, Kenny following his direction, "The long ones, the "sounds", they are what are used for names when they can be, even when they are said the same as the short ones."
"Now whose language is confusing?" Kenny teased, giving him a gentle elbow into his arm. "How come ya use 'em both? Seems like you could cut your letters in half and make it easier for ya."
He tongued over his lips, "When our words were first written by Anori, our first scholar, Tav'nokana did not want us to fall silent and only write our words to one another and to the gods. So, She took Anori's ink except what was on her pen, and all parchment but one. Tav'nokana told her she must fit all she had to say to her tribe on that parchment with only what ink she had. So Anori made all the Faterian's names shorter to try to fit them all, and put them all on the parchment, but even then, had no more ink for her message. So, she cut her hand and used her blood and wrote the blessing of Tav'nokana in the other one-letter, uh, letters to finish."
Kenny blinked, "Why?"
Kyle smiled, "To show that even when there is change, She is always the final thing we think about, not ourselves, and the trouble we will go through to give Her the respect She deserves. We speak of ourselves shortly, but She and what She has made for us will take more time to write and remember."
He grinned back, "So, it's a tradition thing."
He nodded enthusiastically, "Tav'nokana did not have to give us ink and paper, but She was kind enough to do so. She just had to be certain that we remembered what is most important. All the texts Anori was allowed to write after her test used the same letters, so it is the only way we know how."
Kenny gave a quiet "hm", nodding slowly in interest. "What if someone's name doesn't have one of these," he pointed at the sounds.
"We all have at least one, or the kiantri will not approve of the name," he shrugged. "Many of our… shorter names, do not have them, so we may not write them. I can, but my naichi, Stan, cannot. He may only write Stante'ri."
"Gotcha," he said. "Feel like his full name is longer than his nickname, though. So, more time spent on writing his name and whatnot, not exactly shortening like Anori intended or whatever."
Kyle nodded, "Sometimes it is like that. But what is important is the letters… uh…" his eyes closed, face scrunching in concentration.
Kenny ventured a guess, "Reminding you of Tav'nokana?"
"Yes! That!" he reopened his eyes and beamed before it dulled down slightly. "I am sure it seems… odd."
He shook his head, "Nah. That's way better reasoning for different letters and sounds than just "that's the way it is now shut up and deal with it" like we humans have," he smiled cheekily.
'Isn't that the fucking truth,' Kyle thought with a silent laugh. "So you do not know where your words come from?"
"Not a clue," he shook his head. "I know it's changed over time, but I can't begin to tell you where it started."
He blinked, "Changed?"
Kenny nodded, "Wasn't always the same letters and sounds, new ones came in, some old ones went away for the most part, ya know. Just something to make your life in particular more difficult," he teased.
Kyle snorted, "That is exactly what I said earlier. But… even though your words are very hard, I still like them," he admitted. "There is a lot of um, different noises. Faterian is much smaller and sounds the same."
"Well, maybe to you," Kenny laughed. "What little I've heard from you it sounds pretty varied to me. My language sounds all the same to me, so it's probably just a, ya know, familiarity thing."
He nodded softly, not quite agreeing with the sentiment, but he figured Kenny would know far better than Kyle would if his native phrases held familiar patterns and noises.
Green eyes flitted upwards, gulping lightly at the touches of navy already beginning to crest the sky. A chilling feeling ran down his back, wanting more than anything to stay here, to keep talking until the night had passed and dawn came back around… but Grego'ri's damn voice wouldn't stop making its presence known.
"Kyle? You okay?" Kenny asked, lightly touching his arm, stomach twisted at the subtle fear that was coursing through his expression all of a sudden.
His attention was ripped back off the darkening sky, looking at the man beside him and allowing himself to breathe once again, despite the heavy shadows that were starting to dull glittering golden hair. "Um… it… I think I need to…" he trailed off, mind and heart in an all-out war with one another, neither quite willing to concede and let him finish his sentence.
Kenny followed where his gaze had been, seeing the touches of dark cresting the sky and humming under his breath. "You need to go back home?" he ventured, smiling sadly at the guilt on Kyle's face. "Dude, that's fine. Seriously though, are you all right? You weren't bugged last time it was gettin' dark and we were out here."
"I… would rather not say," Kyle replied quietly.
"Okay," he nodded with ease. "Listen, I can try to get out here a little earlier so we have more time, I'm hittin' a point where I'm waiting for my mom and sister to finish some pieces before I work on 'em anyway. So you can get home before, ya know, it's night," he shrugged.
He winced, "You do not have to-"
"I'm offerin'," he interrupted, eyes rolling amusedly. "It ain't a sacrifice on my part." He watched as Kyle gathered up his books and shoved them back into his bag, getting onto his feet with his knees cracking angrily along the way. Carefully, he folded his paper twice, sliding it into his pocket, absentmindedly trying to think of the best place to store it out of sight of his siblings. As Kyle finished and grabbed his bow, Kenny outstretched his hand towards him. Kyle smiled shyly, taking it and allowing him to help heft him back onto his feet, his wings giving an extra helpful push. "I'll try to shoot for like, midday," Kenny promised.
Kyle cringed further but nodded. "I am sorry. It is just… getting harder for me to be out late."
"I understand, Dude," he chuckled. "Don't worry about it. We'll make it work, whatever makes you comfortable. Just get home and calm down a little."
He gave a weak smile, "I will try. Thank you. For… for everything," he gestured awkwardly between them.
He waved off the notion, "Not a problem."
Kyle opened his mouth slightly for a query before hesitation hit him like an arrow.
Kenny watched the storm clouds of doubt lingering through his eyes and offered him a reassuring, softer tone, "What?"
"If it is too much that is fine," he preluded through an embarrassed mumble at his pause being so easily read. "But I have… aikopian books and…"
"And you wanna know if you're reading them right?" Kenny guessed, smirking at his subtle nod and the twitching of his fingers around his bag's strap. "Bring one of 'em tomorrow, I'll help ya with it if you need it," he promised.
The relief on his face was immediate, his eyes shining with joy in the rosy light cocooning them both. "Thank you," he repeated, tone quicker and fuller. "Thank you so much, Kenny."
He snorted, "Stop thanking me, Ky. It's my pleasure." He took a step towards him and balanced on one foot, tilting to elbow his shoulder lightly. "You just gotta teach me some of your words, too." Kyle gave an eager, agreeing nod and his grin softened, "Now go home and get safe or whatever. I'll see you tomorrow."
Kyle fought down another round of hesitation and sighed, wings spreading behind him, aching from their inactivity but fluttering nonetheless and bringing his feet off the ground. "Good night, Kenny," he said quietly, a grateful grin still ever-present.
"Night, Ky," he smiled, watching another sorrowful look come and go over Kyle's face before he rapidly pivoted on air and rushed over the bushes and back into the woods out of his sight.
Kenny's chest was filled with contentment despite the hasty departure, his hand slipping into his pocket and feeling the parchment still safely secured. Felt like he'd taken in a year's worth of information in their all-too-brief talk, but schooling back home never felt as fascinating as anything Kyle told him about his world. He could listen to Faterian lore for hours, lost amid a sea of unfamiliar names and simple concepts turned into something so much more involved than any of the folk tales he had grown up with.
A soft rustling above him caught his ears as they remained bereft of Kyle's voice, head swiveling to look up into the canopy of trees surrounding him. Blue eyes scanned through and along green leaves stained mauve in the fading light, watching for movement but finding none. His serenity slowly gave way, overshadowed by a clawing sense of dread and unable to pinpoint why.
A gust of wind sent the trees into a swaying disarray and disrupted further obvious disturbances, Kenny unable to do more than watch the dance in a continuing bewilderment at the tonal shift. He hummed under his breath, shoving his other hand into his pocket and straightening up uneasily. Another quick sweep of the foliage revealed nothing, his breath working its way through a stagger as he cracked his neck.
"Just a damn squirrel," he muttered to himself, unconvincing to even his empty audience, but relying on the mentality nonetheless as he turned on his heel, his precious paper safely clutched between delicate fingers, and headed home.
