deep breath, deep breath
Some more AU bits that tie in with last chapter.
Secret of Kells © Cartoon Saloon
3
Aisling is told when the intruder woke up and started running; to the place with walls, no doubt. That was fine with her. There hadn't been others for a few weeks, and an old man and a cat wasn't enough to bother the rest of the forest or her.
Especially when Bren decided to hide in the ancient oak tree instead of coming home.
She found her big-little brother asleep up high, satchel cushioning the back of his head and the a shiny thing with other things inside of it—like leaves—pressed on his face.
She was quiet, but he woke soon as she stepped beside him anyway. He always knew when she was there.
What were you thinking? she nearly asks, but then she sees how his eyes are glassy and reddish and says "What's that?" and points to the shiny-leaf-thing he's clutching.
He doesn't seem to be expecting that. "I-I don't know. It's—I took—Aisling, I'm sorry, the old human came back and I think he's dead and I almost got him out and I didn't mean to do it, really!"
Her eyes widen a little. Not being happy at loss of life she could understand, but he acted like when Mo—he acted as though he knew the man personally, had something tangible to know and grieve over.
"It's alright, Bren. He's alive, the deer told me so."
He rocks back at the news, and the relief that floods his face doesn't make any more sense than the grief.
"I don't know what this is," he says again after regaining his breath. "But it's beautiful. It's—it feels like a piece of the forest is in there, Ash!"
This statement is so ludicrous she ignores how he shortens her name for the first time in ages. "My forest is not in a thing made of—of calf-skins and metal," she spat viciously.
"No, no, that's not—" He stops at the look on her face. "Look," he says instead, opening and flicking through it.
She does.
Mostly, there are just black scribbles. But they don't linger on those; instead, he shows her the parts filled with golds of the dawn and greens from the trees and all manner of designs that seem to move, all on their own.
She doesn't go back on what she said. Her forest isn't a part of that.
She must look less angry, though, because he goes on. "I think the old man made it. Or was a part of it. So I want—I want to give it back."
Aisling blinks owlishly. "Why? He didn't hold onto it tight enough. It's pretty enough to keep."
"But it's blank in places. I want to see more of it. Don't you?"
"…Maybe. But he's gone to the place with walls, you know."
Bren slumps just a bit, but doesn't hesitate. "Then I'll go behind the walls. Just…just for a little bit. Not long."
2
"Ash."
"Aisling."
"Ashleeeeee."
"Aisling."
"Ashashashash."
"No! Say it right! Aisling!"
A whimper.
"No, don't—Bren, don't cry, I'm sorry, I—Mother! Mother!"
1
She knows where babies come from, and she knows that her kind can't have them often.
That doesn't stop her from being lonely. She keeps asking her mother can I have a brother, even though she knows the only way she could get one means the answer will be no.
What if someone had stolen you? I know I would cry and cry and miss you forever, my dearest daughter. And you want to do that to another mother? Like me?
Of course she doesn't, so she gives up. At least until she's lonely again.
And then one day Mother comes back with her arms stained up and down with soot, a little squirming thing swaddled in her arms.
He wasn't a faerie, he wasn't quiet, it would take him a while to learn how to really play, and he was not going to be long-lived.
She didn't care.
You're still my brother.