This is still self-indulgence.
Ari had taken him far, far away from the orphanage.
On the rare occasions he was allowed to leave the orphanage and roam the city, it was only few streets over. With a memory as good as his, Tom knew those streets like the back of his hand. He knew the roads; the sickly smell of decay, the sound the cobblestones made under his feet. More often than not, Tom had entertained the idea of navigating them in the dark to escape.
But those plans had holes, most of them regarding the fact that he'd have to rely on someone afterwards. He knew his reputation preceded him, knew that no one normal would take in the witch child. Those who did would be no doubt no better than Miss Cole. Clutching the book of blind faith, deeming themselves worthy to torment another. Righteous even.
Burn the witch, eh?
Ari though. Tom could depend on Ari, just for a while.
If Tom looked at her without the veil of panic and distrust, he could say that she was indeed a beautiful woman. But appearance never meant anything to him. One could always mar it; take a sharp object and make a mess out of it. So while the deep red of her hair was truly eye-catching and otherworldly, it was her warmth that hooked him in.
It was the fact that she never let go of his hand, not once. She gripped it tightly when the city crowd got too much and held it loosely in the backseat of the black car they hailed. He was looking out the window then, noting the passing of unfamiliar streets and buildings. But half of his attention was on her; on her solid presence, on the softness of her palm. On her occasional wince of pain.
His power was still stretched thin from earlier, but Tom did his best to direct it towards her. He never tried healing someone else and had no idea if it would work. Everyone was very insistent when they said his power was something from hell, after all. Only capable of pain and chaos. Still, Tom wasn't the type to give up before even trying.
He closed his eyes and willed for her wrist to mend itself.
He heard a quiet gasp and then felt Ari's hand sneak around his waist. His eyes sprung open when she dragged him closer to her. He looked up at Ari, about to tell her to go easy on her broken wrist, when he caught the sight of her smile. "It stopped hurting. So suddenly," she told him, her voice no louder than a whisper. "It was you, wasn't it?"
The way she spoke made it seem like she was sharing a secret, the greatest thing ever. No one regarded his power like that. Like something wonderful that needed to be hidden so no one could steal it.
There was something stuck in Tom's throat, so he did the logical thing and nodded in response. Ari gave a quiet hum, as if sensing the turmoil he was experiencing. She then nudged his head with her chin. Getting the silent permission, he burrowed into her side and used her shoulder as a pillow. Tom used his power too much; he could feel exhaustion creeping in.
Ari was bony, so it wasn't exactly the most comfortable sleeping position. Tom fell asleep quicker than he ever did in his life anyway.
Awareness came back to Tom in bursts and pauses. Distant memories and forgotten wishes swam under the veil of his sleep. He thought of thunder and warm blood, cursing his mind for its particularly cruel dream of comfort and safety. But then his senses came back online and he realized that the bed at the orphanage was never this comfortable.
He sat up, fighting the last of sleep and grogginess. Quickly looking around, Tom was ridiculously relieved to note that no, it was most certainly not the orphanage. Ari was real and she brought him here. He didn't know where 'here' was exactly but he'd settle for pretty much anything except the orphanage.
He had never dreamt of those rooms aristocrats bragged about but apparently such a room was exactly what he got. High walls and wide floors, a ridiculously soft bed and windows as big as the walls of his old room. Everything was warm in color and intricate in detail, from the soft beige and rose gold of the wallpapers to the deep burgundy of the furniture. Bright and brighter still under morning sun.
The complete opposite of his room at the orphanage with its cramped space and dull grey colors.
Two days ago Tom would have stayed in the room; dreading meeting his new 'parents'. He would have explored every nook and canny for quick escape routines. He would have considered which books were the most useful to him and shrunk them little by little until they could fit in his pocket. And then when they sent him back he'd have something new to learn.
That was the most he got out of adults.
But he had a feeling Ari would give him more than that. So he didn't linger in the room of rose gold and vast space. Finding his shoes under the bed, he did his best not to think about Ari taking off his shoes when he was asleep before tucking him in bed.
And failed. Miserably so.
He imagined what it would feel like; to have her gentle hands wrapping him in a blanket. He thought that she would lean over him, smiling the dazzling smile of hers, and her hair would hang low like a theatre curtain. It would be a pretty sight, he was sure. She'd give a quick peck on his head. Or maybe it would be slower. Maybe she'd linger to wish him goodnight.
No matter. He just had to go easy on his power today and not fall asleep before her. Play the scared boy, maybe? Ari was an unusually kind woman, to be so sweet to him of all people. He could tug on her heartstrings if he played his cards right. He was a very good observer and manipulator; Tom was pretty sure he could do it.
With that bit of conviction in mind, he turned the doorknob of his new room and stepped into the hallway.
Apparently, everything about the Ari's home was bright, warm and vast. He didn't know if he liked it all that much. Tom felt small and dirty in it. Still, he wouldn't be here forever and he'd put up with feeling a little insignificant as long as he got the last of Ari's good will.
He trailed along the walls until he encountered an actual butler. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, with frizzly short hair and light brown eyes. He was wearing something straight out of a Victorian novel; neatly pressed trousers and a jacket that reminded Tom of crows. He was also carrying a silver tray with breakfast on it.
Tom stopped, always cautious of strangers, no matter how unassuming they looked.
The man regarded Tom for a moment, noting the stiff posture. Too stiff for a child his age. He should be carefree, not wary. "You're our young master then?" he asked. Taking the resulting silence for the confusion it was, he elaborated, "Lady Arianne had said she would be bringing in a young boy as her ward. You are him, are you not?"
At the mention of his lady's name, the child relaxed. Lady Arianne was already working her magic then. "Would you like to dine with her? I'm sure she wouldn't mind your company. She'd welcome it even." Without waiting for an answer, the butler started walking. After a moment of consideration, Tom followed.
They walked in silence until they stopped in front of a wide door. The butler pushed it open with one hand and there she was, his latest object of obsession. Sitting behind a table long enough to host a party of two dozen aristocrats, with her blood-red hair pulled into a loose braid. The new hairstyle revealed a curious scar near her right brow, Tom noted.
She looked up at the butler, likely to wish him a good morning. But then she caught the sight of Tom standing not far behind and immediately looked more awake. Ari gave him a sweet smile. "You're up early. Come sit next to me. Let's eat together." she told him, eager in a way no one was when it came to Tom. So he did as she told him without any hesitation.
The food brought to the table might have been the tastiest food he had in his life. Likely the most expensive one too, if one considered the strange hairy fruit called kiwi of all things. They were brought from a place with no winter, Ari had told him when she spied him looking askance.
He had read about it once, of course. Knew in theory that some parts of the world would be completely alien to him. But such places were never more than a passing thought to him. He never considered that he'd be sampling something from foreign lands. It made them seem more real. Maybe even possible for him to get into.
Ari, somehow sensing his wonder, had told him that she'd bring more food from foreign markets and that was that for breakfast.
Afterwards, when Tom refrained from licking his plate clean to save face, Ari had held her arm out in a silent invitation. He took it, gripping her warm hand in his. Clearly pleased with herself, Ari stood up and walked out the dining room with him in tow, practically skipping like a young girl. She chattered all about her home, insisting that now it was his too. Tom didn't bother to correct her.
His temporary home turned out to be few centuries old. Almost the same age as the wine barrels in the winery, apparently. Most of her remarkably large fortune came from that, she told him. One of her ancestors was smart enough to invest in something that would last forever. In alcohol, she said with laughter in her voice. Wine was invented in ancient Rome and lasted this long. One could never go wrong with that.
Tom laughed along with her, his voice quiet and hoarse. He conceded that Ari's ancestor was indeed a smart person, to think so far ahead, and added alcohol-making to the list of works he could do.
Ari wanted her name to mean more than a brand of wine though, she said when they roamed her considerably large property and came across a farm. So she's been investing in all sorts of things she thought people needed, she explained when she picked up a black lamb and handed it to Tom. He tried to give the squirmy, loud thing back to her but she just handed him a bottle of milk.
"That one is an orphan. His mother rejected him," she explained, casual and not at all sad. The black thing latched onto the bottle eagerly, spilling milk everywhere in his haste. "So he depends on us to survive," she continued. It was.
Surprisingly gratifying to know. To have such control over its life and to choose to save it.
"So anyway. I didn't want to just sit around and twiddle my thumbs all my life, you see. It's just not in my nature. I thought why not try to expand the family business? I had little to lose and a lot to gain."
Ari was a surprisingly ambitious person. Most of the women Tom knew were slaves to their husbands. All of them quite pathetic. He liked how driven Ari was; how different.
She didn't say anything about the obstacles she had to face to reach her goals but Tom could read in-between the lines just fine.
A young woman of old money and thorough breeding refusing to marry her suitors? Instead choosing to pursue business, the way only men did? He could imagine the cries of outrage, the scandalous nature of it all. He knew from the gossipy nature of the matrons that the highborn people of London were fickle and delicate lot.
Not at all like his Ari. With her determination to take in the witch child and to threaten the head matron to do so, she was anything but the submissive woman they demanded. Tom liked it; he liked it a lot. Maybe he could learn how to be like that from her. To be so defiant and unashamed; to hold one's head so high in the face of nothing but rejection and prevail.
Maybe that was why she was so damn kind to him. Maybe she could actually understand him, at least a little bit.
Tom found that he really dreaded the day Ari would send him away. The thought constricted his breathing and made his eyes sting. He shouldn't be this attached already. He really shouldn't. It was barely a day now. He was going to be sent back; so fucking what. It wouldn't be any different this time, he tried to reassure himself. Back to pain it was and so- Pain and fear-
He was going to lose control like that. What was he thinking. He shouldn't be thinking at al-
And then, suddenly, the black, fluffy thing in his arms licked him, putting him out of his mind. Distracted enough from the absolutely useless thoughts of regrets and hopes, Tom forcibly wrestled his power into control and let the lamb drop none too gently. He closed his eyes and breathed in; once, twice.
When he opened them, Ari was holding the orphaned lamb and the empty bottle of milk. She put the little thing into the fence with the other animals and hung the bottle on a hooked piece of wood. She tapped the part of the fence that was broken in part and Tom knew he was responsible for that one.
He waited. For the punishment at least, if not fear. Ari had to realize that it was his fault she had a broken fence on her hands. And just when she was talking about how proud of her farm she was too. Talk about bad timing.
"I'll ask Horatio to repair it, don't worry," she told him and then reached for his hand. He tensed up.
She held his hand anyway, rubbing circles into it until he stopped imitating a statue. Pulling him close, she gave him a one armed hug and then started walking, guiding him out of the farmland. "It's not bad. The fence will hold the sheep just fine. We'll just replace few woods. That's all," she reassured him.
"But I have one thing to ask of you, Tom," she continued. He wondered if she was going to give him an endless list of chores. Ari didn't seem to be the kind of person to enjoy inflicting pain on others. But maybe she'd work him to the bone. Try to tire him so his power wouldn't act up. It would be fine. It would be smart.
"Explain to me," she asked. And Tom.
Did not follow. Explain what? How did that relate to her request? Was this some kind of test? Did he have to justify his actions? "What?"
"Your power, I mean. Your… magic," she elaborated, as reverent as she was yesterday in the car. A secret. A treasure. A hidden knowledge she had to understand. "I could tell you were hurting back then. Panicking, really. And the things around you just responded to your distress," she told him. Her observations were surprisingly accurate. Tom was kind of embarrassed he let someone see him in such a state.
Mostly though. Mostly he was.
Glad? Relieved? Touched?
He just felt like someone was actually looking at him. Someone actually understood. He wasn't evil. He didn't mean to break the fence. He didn't mean to hurt her. Sometimes things just happened and he had no control of it. His power was his, but sometimes it turned against him too.
And Ari could tell.
She could tell!
And that was good. That was very good. Maybe. Maybe he could stay this time. If he just told Ari. Everything. Anything. She could know him. Maybe she'd accept him. She was always so kind to him. Maybe.
Maybe.
For the first time in a long time, Tom felt the fluttering of hope in his chest.
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