To the Power Born: A Tale of the Slayers
Part 6: Culture Shock?
You know, Mi Kyong Takeda was the first person I ever met to not be shocked by the apparent lack of age difference in me and my mom. I guess it's that Asian and Native American way of kind of aging in spurts— make twelve or thirteen, stop aging visibly until thirty, look thirty until fifty, then look fifty until well past seventy. She'd grown up with it, so it didn't strike her as odd.
I hugged Vincent goodbye, thanked him for his help, and Mi Kyong bowed to him and shook his hand. I introduced her to Colin, and she bowed and shook his hand, then asked, "How did you… you fly! And you shot the vampires! How is it done?"
Colin covered his mouth with one hand and shook his head— and Mi Kyong blushed and stammered an apology.
"No, it's okay," I said. "You couldn't have known, Mi Kyong." I led her upstairs and out, holding her hand in one of mine, Colin's in the other, and headed across the big yards to my house. "Anyway, I'll explain about Colin after a bit. Right now… Mi Kyong, you're going to meet my family now, unless you… do you need to not be crowded? And… well, if you'd rather not meet my Dad or my brother yet, it can, you know, wait…."
(Despite her shaking Colin's and Vincent's hands, I expected her to be freaked out by men— I mean, come on, it was a prison camp run by scum. I assumed she'd been raped.)
"I would be honored to meet your family, all of them," Mi Kyong said. "Why would I wish to wait to meet your father and bro— oh! Oh, no, that did not— I wasn't… they raped many of the women, but never me. I— to them I am— was an animal. Not to be touched. I have Japanese blood, I am not human. They would not soil themselves."
I stopped and stared for a moment, then looked at Colin, saw the anger I felt mirrored in his eyes. "Do you suppose," I said slowly, "that Wil would send us back there so we could hunt down and beat bloody every single one of those guards? Between raping the other women and treating Mi Kyong like that… they deserve it!"
"It is all right," Mi Kyong said. "I know I am not less than human because of my father. I loved him. He was… father.
"I like that you get angry though. I like it much."
"Okay," I said. "But I swear, it's tempting.
"Oh— forgive me, I forgot an introduction, here. Mi Kyong Takeda, this little purple guy on my shoulder is my best friend, Royal. Have you seen a pseudo dragon before?"
"Yes," she said. "When we lived in Asahikawa, the man across the street had a pseudo dragon friend, her name was Awai— it means pale. She was a very pale yellow. She… liked me. He gave me odd jobs sometimes— helping him in his garden mostly— because Awai liked me."
Royal gave a flapping hop, landed on Mi Kyong's shoulder, and nuzzled her cheek with his nose, making her giggle.
"Royal likes you, too," I said. "And just wait— in a week or less, there will be baby pseudo dragons around!"
"Baby— oh." Mi Kyong tried very hard not to look hopeful, but she failed. After a second, she said in a quiet voice, "Do you think… one might like me?"
"I don't know if it will be one of these, but I do think so, yes," I said. "Mi Kyong… almost every Slayer on the planet has a pseudo dragon companion. Those few who don't, they're… well, they're watched very carefully. The dragons can't or won't say, but we're afraid those girls may be… bad. Crazy.
"But Royal likes you, so I'm betting you aren't bad or crazy."
"Oh, thank you," she whispered.
"Nothing to thank me for," I said. "Okay, we're here. You ready, Mi Kyong?"
"Yes, of course I am ready," she said— and followed me inside.
Just inside the door, my family stood waiting— but I didn't get to introduce her right away. First I had to hug Dad, who grabbed me and pulled me close the second I was in reach. I hugged back, and he said, "Girl of mine, I saw those vampires and I admit, I got a little freaky. But you guys did it right. Well done, Jocelyn."
"Thank you, Daddy," I said. "We should probably have a meeting about the vampires turning up, later. Right now— we have a friend to get to know and to take care of.
"Okay, people— this is our newest Slayer, Mi Kyong Takeda, who's been having it rough for a few years now. Any of you who give her more than a tiny bit of good-natured grief will be dealing with a pissy Slayer, namely me.
"Mi Kyong, this is my father and my Watcher, Whitey Penobscot, my mother, also a Slayer, Chantelle, my…."
Once I'd finished everything and everyone had shaken Mi Kyong's hand (except Mom, who hugged her, big surprise, right?), I noticed that Mi Kyong seemed… unsteady on her feet. I started to reach out to steady her— then dove forward and skidded on my knees, caught her before she hit the ground. Daddy was down beside us in a heartbeat, even as Mom was ushering the kids out of the room, Colin following her, since Stephen had developed some serious hero worship, and would do anything that Colin managed to ask of him.
"I'm so sorry," Mi Kyong said in a faint voice, even as Dad took her pulse and I was counting her respirations for him. "I haven't eaten in a while, and the excitement of… of being here, being free…!"
"Okay, I'm retarded," I muttered in disgust. "I should have thought— solitary confinement in that shithole had to be bad, I should've figured that you hadn't eaten enough."
"Stop it," Dad said calmly. "None of us is used to having to deal with a girl who's been in Mi Kyong's situation, Jocelyn.
"Mi Kyong, do you think you can walk a couple of dozen paces with Jocelyn's help? Just to the kitchen, where we'll get you some food."
"I think so," Mi Kyong said. "I am sorry to be such a bother, Mister Pe—"
"None of that, Mi Kyong," Dad said. "Nothing in this situation is in any way your fault, so stop apologizing. And call me Whitey, please. 'Mr. Penobscot' makes me feel old."
We got Mi Kyong up, and though she was shaky, she didn't lean on me too much. We went to the kitchen, and she didn't aim for the table, but for the sink. I looked at Dad, and he nodded, so I went with her. At the sink, Mi Kyong spent a good five minutes washing her hands, lower arms and face— and I approved. The instinct to be clean hadn't been beaten out of her, cool.
Knowing her stomach would be delicate and fussy, Dad found some leftover beef-vegetable soup— homemade, and Mom makes a great soup— and reheated it while Mi Kyong got clean enough to eat. He put a big glass of whole milk, a good-sized bowl of soup and four thick slices of his homemade bread (heavenly, Dad can cook) on the table before her and said, "Mi Kyong, I want you to do two things for me, please. Try to eat all of this, if you can— and try to eat slowly. I know you haven't been getting enough, but if you eat too quickly, you'll get sick."
"Yes, Whitey," Mi Kyong said. "Thank you very much. I will try to eat it all— and I will go slow."
Daddy gave me a bowl, too— I'd missed lunch— and some bread and a salad. I sat and I ate slowly, pacing myself as a good example for Mi Kyong. She ate slowly, and she did manage to eat everything— but afterwards, she said, "I feel… bloated. Thank you!"
I saw Dad's eyes go dark, and I knew mine had that same angry look, and I didn't look at Mi Kyong for a moment, not wanting her to see. Yes, that had been a good-sized meal— but we Slayers have mad metabolisms, and usually eat one and a half to two times as much as other people of our size— because we need it.
"Sit and relax a moment, Mi Kyong," Daddy said. "Then we'll get you upstairs and get you a bath, something to wear and a nap."
I grabbed our bowls and rinsed them, put them in the dishwasher while Dad cleaned up the leftovers. As we came close together, I said very quietly, "Dad, how many new Slayers did we get this year?"
"Twenty-three, with Mi Kyong, here," Dad said. "Why do you ask, girl of mine?"
"That makes two thousand, one hundred and eighty eight Slayers," I said softly. "You think that's enough to go in and take over North Korea? Depose that bastard that's in charge, put a decent government in there?"
"Certainly it would be," Dad said. "And I admire the sentiment— but we can't, honey."
"I know, Daddy," I said, closing the dishwasher. "But a girl has to have a dream, right?"
Dad chuckled, gave me a one-armed hug, and we turned around as Mom came in carrying a bundle of clothes for Mi Kyong.
"These will fit well enough," Mom said, setting them down by Mi Kyong. "Sweat pants, a T-shirt, and some underwear, socks, and slip-on sneakers. Tomorrow, if you're up to it, we'll go shopping."
"How will I repay you?" Mi Kyong asked, looking worried.
"Oh, it's not our money we're spending," Dad said. "It's the Watchers' Council that's paying for your things, Mi Kyong— and you'll pay the Council back by being a Slayer. In fact, the Council gives a monetary allowance for food and incidentals for every Slayer living with a family— no expense is incurred by having you here, young lady."
"Even if it was our money, we'd never notice," Mom said. "Whitey's gone and turned out to be a financial genius, invested his pay wisely, and we're filthy rich."
"Now," Dad said, "we'd like it if you stayed with us long-term, Mi Kyong. I know, we don't all know each other well, yet— but that will come in time, and since Royal likes you, well, you should fit with us just fine. Pseudo dragons are excellent judges of character."
At that moment, Phantom and Tracer, Dad's and Mom's pseudo dragons, came in. They went to snuggle with their respective partners for a second— then flew to the table and introduced themselves to Mi Kyong by shoving their heads under her hands, setting her to giggling and stroking them delightedly.
"Further proof," Dad said, smiling. He looked just a tiny bit nervous as he went on, though. "There is something that… well, we hope it won't make you uncomfortable.
"Chantelle and I are married, as you probably gathered— but we have a girlfriend. She's in love with both of us, and both of us are in love with her. I realize that's sort of unorthodox, but around here… well, it's almost normal."
"I… do not see anything wrong with that," Mi Kyong said, blushing. "Loving someone is not wrong. There were many in the camp who were put there for loving their own gender, and that— telling people who they can and cannot love— it is wrong. Who you love is your business.
"Will I meet your girlfriend?"
"Oh, yes," Dad said, relaxing. "She's off picking up another of the new Slayers who was activated this year— the girl is Welsh, and Gwendolyn's a native of Wales, so we sent her to do the meet and greet with the parents, bring the girl here, they'll be back tonight. It's not the normal school year, here in America, but we do hold a summer session of school for new Slayers, to get them some rudimentary training and make sure that nothing supernatural comes after them."
"Enough talkin' for now, Whitey," Mom said. "Mi Kyong, you look tired. Would you like a nap?"
"I would like a bath, first, please," she said. "Or a shower. I would be clean before I sleep."
"Mmm, I'd recommend a shower for clean and a bath for the soak and the pleasure," Mom said. "But… sweetie, you're not in the best shape. I'm afraid you'll fall. Would you mind if I went in with you? Or Jocelyn?"
"That would be fine," Mi Kyong said. "For the pleasure of a shower and a bath, I would gladly let your whole family watch over me!"
Mom laughed, looked at me, and I nodded. I'd do that, no problem. I liked Mi Kyong, wanted to help her get well.
"All right, Jocelyn will go with you— and I'd advise you to have her give you a backrub when you're ready for sleep, she's damned good at it." Mom looked thoughtful, then said, "Jocelyn, use the bathroom off our bedroom— no stairs, and we've got the Jacuzzi tub. Mi Kyong deserves some spoilin', I think. Oh, and take this—" She handed me a garbage bag. "— for those god-awful clothes they gave her at that damned camp. We're throwin' them right out."
"Cool, thanks, Mom," I said. I left Mi Kyong in the kitchen while I went to get a change of clothes for myself, then gathered up her stuff, too, and led her to Mom, Dad and Gwendolyn's room, and the wonderful bathroom off of it.
The shower stall and Jacuzzi tub were separate things, and both big enough for four people, if they were intimate. I got undressed quickly, tossed my stuff in the dirty clothes hamper, then turned to help Mi Kyong.
Her clothes were… well, they were wrong. Horribly uncomfortable, made from stiff canvas, and filthy beyond belief— she told me that they were never, ever washed, except when she worked in the rain. That's just— god, how can people do that to other people!? And the underwear! Rough sackcloth, cut like boxers, loose and just— argh, I get mad just remembering it! She had no bra— not like she needed one, she had bumps-with-nipples, not breasts, no surprise given her lack of nutrition. (In fact, that explained her being two years older than the average twelve of a newly activated Slayer— it never happened until the May twentieth after a girl's first period [except with me and the three like me who'd had the power since birth], and we'd long ago realized that girls in third world countries sometimes got less nutritional meals, so started menstruating later in life.)
It was a pleasure to put those piece-of-shit clothes in a garbage bag.
Mi Kyong peed, after— not surprising that she didn't think about asking me to leave the room, she'd had no privacy for toilet trips, except for the day or so she'd spent in solitary, for the last five damned years. The expression on her face at having soft toilet paper to wipe with… wow, I still get mad over these things, and it's been a while.
We got in the shower and I let her set the temperature— extremely hot, no surprise— and then I helped her get clean. It took some doing, I tell you— but her unbridled joy at being clean made it a pleasure to help.
She was skinny as hell, and still shaky and weak, so I pretty much played bath girl. Not sexually, just… I sat her down on the seat in the corner, handed her one bar of soap and a scrubbie, then took another of each and started working on her feet and legs while she started on her upper body. Once we'd got her clean everywhere we could reach, I sat her down on the floor, sat behind her, and scrubbed her back while she made little "ooo" and "ah" noises of unmistakable pleasure. Then we tackled her hair, and I admit— I checked for lice and fleas, got the pleasant surprise of finding none.
Once she was totally clean, I stood up and cleaned up myself, and she waited patiently.
"I think… I think I will keep my hair long," she said. "Not this long— mid-back when braided, though, that would be nice."
"Yes, you've got a face that goes well with long hair," I said, rinsing my own hair. "In fact, you're just plain gorgeous. Oh, I know, you need to gain some weight— but your face, Mi Kyong… wow. Beautiful."
"Thank you," she said, blushing and looking down. "You, too, are beautiful— you look like your mother, and she is beautiful. But your eyes… they make me ache, they are so beautiful. I have never seen purple eyes before— I like that they match your Royal."
"So do I," I said smugly. "Thank you."
"May I ask a… a personal question?" she asked, blushing at the thought of whatever it was.
"Sure, I'm not shy," I said.
"You have no hair… between your legs," Mi Kyong said. "I had thought you would have, since your body is so developed in other ways."
(She had none herself, which I thought might be a late-puberty-slash-malnourishment thing— we'd seen it before.)
"Oh, I got rid of it," I said. "Not by shaving— Willow knows a spell that makes it go away and not come back. I love it this way. It makes… well, it makes sex more fun."
"Oh," Mi Kyong said. "So… you and Colin…?"
"Uh-huh," I said, grinning. "And my god, if I'd known guys were that much fun, I'd have maybe done it with a guy before a girl— but I don't mind, really, girls are fun, too."
"So… you like both men and women?" Mi Kyong asked, blushing darkly.
"Yes, I do," I said, not being at all bothered by it— she'd taken Mom and Dad's relationship with Gwen really well. "Colin knows, and he doesn't mind at all— not like most men would.
"Um, I should probably warn you, in the Slayer and Watcher and Guardian families around here, normal monogamy is in the minority. You know about Mom, Dad and Gwendolyn. Well, Willow is a lesbian, you'll meet her wife later, I'm sure. She teaches fencing, one of the several sword styles we learn. My Uncle Ballard… he's got four wives, and they're all lovers— and each one has at least one child by him. Giles and Kelly are a 'normal marriage,' he's the head of the Watchers' Council and my grandpa in my head, and she's his deputy and my grandma in my head. Then there's Vincent and Vi, they're a 'normal marriage.' And that's everyone that lives here full time, though we have constant visitors— Buffy, the Prime Slayer, the one who started all this, she's here now, visiting with her husband, Xander and their kids.
"Okay, I'm clean. Ready for a long, luxurious soak?"
"Yes, please!" Mi Kyong said, and we moved to the Jacuzzi. I got a good look at Mi Kyong as we moved, and found myself sort of attracted to her, skinny and underfed and all. She had this tiny waist that I thought putting on weight wouldn't change much, and a butt that would be nice, once it had some padding. She had a beautiful face, angular without being harsh, with cheekbones that, with a little padding, would look… well, still wonderful, but not harsh. Now, with her so skinny, they almost did look harsh, harsh and arrogant.
Once we were in and settled, side by side with a foot or so separating us, Mi Kyong spoke again.
"Colin and Vincent… they are not normal men, obviously," she said in a lazy, content voice. "How do they do the things they do?"
So I explained about them, taking my time, relaxing in the frothy, hot water and telling her their separate stories. Then, to cover a base I knew would come later, I told her about Aunt Sh'rin, how she had come here from over five thousand years in the past to restart the Guardian women, to join them with the Watchers and help protect the Slayers.
"You speak good English," I said. "Do you read it as well as you speak it?"
"Perhaps a little better, even," Mi Kyong said. "My speaking would get better for reading— have you something I could read? I love to read and it has been… five years since I read a book!"
"I do, too, I've got tons of books," I said. "If you're interested, I could get you a copy of Chosen to Stand— it's a novelized history of the things that happened here in Bloomington-Normal in the months right after the first Activation Day— Aunt Rose wrote it, and she was part of things, so it's very complete— and she's a good writer. Explains Vincent and Aunt Sh'rin's histories better than I can, and how pseudo dragons came here to our world, too."
"I would love that, thank you," Mi Kyong said. "To read for fun… I may have to be made to stop reading for sleep and meals!"
"A girl after my own heart," I said. "What did you read before the camp?"
"Oh, mostly science fiction and fantasy," Mi Kyong said. "Some other things, but mostly those. I had a favorite author, but my parents wouldn't let me read any but the books he wrote for younger people before he died. I know he wrote a great many others, though— maybe I can find those, after I finish Chosen to Stand."
"Who was the author?" I asked.
"Terry… something," she said, sighing in mild frustration. "He wrote fantasy novels that were funny, about a place—"
"Discworld!" I said, grinning hugely. "By Terry Pratchett. Mi Kyong, you definitely came to the right place. I have them all, I love them— Aunt Rose got me all of them for birthdays and Christmas and things, once I started reading her copies."
"Your aunt likes those?" she said, and smiled. "Then I will almost surely love Chosen to Stand. That you love them, too… I think I am home, now. Your family is so kind, you are… are wonderful, and you love the Discworld!"
I chuckled, slid over sideways, and hugged Mi Kyong. She showed no inclination to let go, so we sat there with our arms around each other, her leaning her head on my shoulder, and relaxed until the water cooled from hot to tepid. Finally we got out, and I helped her dry and dress— she was still unsteady on her feet, though not shaking anymore— dressed myself, then led her out to the living room. Mom and Dad were sitting on the couch, Dad with a hardback book on monsters of the Midwest, Mom with a fantasy paperback, her leaning against him as they read their respective books.
"Mom, which room will be Mi Kyong's?" I asked. "Down here or up on two?"
"I set up the second floor room already," Mom said. "Toothbrush and toiletries in the bathroom there, and a couple more changes of clothes. Probably not too bright, given how unsteady she is, sorry."
"It is fine," Mi Kyong said. "I feel better already, and I can manage stairs. After a nap, I suspect that I will feel perfectly fine."
"Well, Jocelyn, stay close to her on the stairs," Mom said. Then she grinned at Mi Kyong and said, "Sugar, do you feel up to a big 'welcome to the family' dinner? With pretty much ever'body in the neighborhood who's part of the Slayer tradition? Or do you think we should wait a day?"
"Today is fine," Mi Kyong said firmly. "I would like to meet all of your friends and family— Jocelyn has told me much about them."
"That bein' the case, what would you like?" Mom said. "We have a tradition of your first big meal bein' what you want. If we can't make it, we'll fake it."
"Oh… pizza?" Mi Kyong said, her eyes lighting up. "And salad. Much salad, and more pizza!"
"That's easy," Mom said. "What would you like on your pizza?"
"How many meats are there for pizza?" Mi Kyong asked. "All the meats. And onions! And oh, mushrooms!"
"No peppers?" Mom asked, grinning. "No olives?"
"No, I like both, but not on pizza," Mi Kyong said. "Thank you, though."
"Okay— Jocelyn, we're eatin' a hair late, about six-thirty," Mom said. "That gives Gwendolyn time to get back. Make sure you two are up and ready by then— we're eatin' at Scooby Mansion, of course. I'll ask Xander about makin' the pizza, since the miserable man won't share his sauce recipe."
"Thanks, Mom," I said. "I'm gonna lay down with Mi Kyong a while— tell Colin if you see him?"
"I surely will," Mom said. "But I think he's been drafted— Giles read his comics, they're going over some things. Your brother, Riley and Nathaniel are 'helpin'' I guess."
"Here's hoping the town's still standing, with those three and their version of helping," I said. "Thanks, Mom. I'll be upstairs."
"Have a good nap, you two," Daddy said in a half-there tone.
"Thank you, Whitey, thank you, Chantelle," Mi Kyong said.
They replied, then I led Mi Kyong upstairs to what was now her room, Royal riding up on my shoulder. Big room, furnished with a king-sized bed, a bureau, a vanity table, a desk and chair complete with computer, a loveseat and a pair of armchairs. It had a balcony, though a small one, and a nice, big bathroom off of the bedroom.
"All this is… is for me?" Mi Kyong said, staring around in wonder.
"Sure is," I said, and squeezed her hand. "It's yours, Mi Kyong."
"I… oh." She wiped at her eyes, muttered in Korean, and said, "I'm sorry, this is just— you are all so— yesterday, I thought I would be killed soon, and today— I'm afraid it's a dream!"
"No dream, honey," I said, and led her to the bed. "It's real. You're in a good place, and there are people who care about you all around, and you're never going back to Korea, okay?"
She wept for a few minutes, I held her, then she sighed, said, "Thank you. I think I need that nap, now."
With that, she stripped completely, and flopped down on the bed, a big, goofy grin on her face at having a bed with a mattress instead of just a floor and a blanket, like I'd seen in the barracks I'd broken open.
"You want company, or to be alone?" I asked. "And how about that backrub? Mom's right, I'm good at those."
"I… do not wish to be alone right now," Mi Kyong said. "Do you mind staying with me?"
"Not at all," I said. I stood, stripped myself (she had, I did— didn't want her feeling awkward), and added, "And hey, more not alone than you probably thought about. Royal will stay, too, won't you, pal?"
*Of course,* Royal sent— and I could see by her wide-eyed wonder that he'd included Mi Kyong in the sending. *You don't nap enough, I'm not about to let you do it without me, Jocelyn.*
"I can't help it if my metabolism is faster than yours, Royal." I nudged Mi Kyong to roll over, sat on the edge of the bed beside her while Royal went to lay on the pillow, where she could reach him to pet him. I ran my hands over Mi Kyong's pale gold skin, brushed aside her hair, and started rubbing her back, eliciting a groan of happiness from her. "If I napped like you do, I'd never pass a class in school."
*I suppose I must make allowances for you poor mammalian types,* Royal sent. *Poor you, waking too much, sleeping too little— still, you are excellent to cuddle up to— so warm!*
"And you are so delightfully cool to the touch," Mi Kyong said, already sounding a little sleepy. "And Jocelyn is making magic with her hands… and I fear I will fall asleep in the middle of this, and miss something."
"Nothing to miss," I said. "Relax. I'll be here when you wake up, so Royal will be, too."
Mi Kyong fell asleep a few minutes later, and I very carefully eased into bed beside her, laced my fingers through hers so that her sleeping mind would know she wasn't alone, and dozed off myself.
I woke a couple of hours later to find Mi Kyong in my arms with her head on my shoulder, Royal lying curled up on my stomach with his tail draped over Mi Kyong's hip, and my mom leaning in the doorway, looking at us and smiling.
"Jocelyn, I swear, that's the cutest thing I've seen since Baby Royal slept on your belly when you were a few weeks old," Mom said. She grinned wickedly at me, and added, "If I was an evil mom, I'd've got me a camera and grabbed a picture— but I figured that wasn't fair to Mi Kyong.
"How's she doin', sweetie? Can you tell?"
"She's adjusting, I think," I said softly. "But… she needs time to adjust, mentally as well as physically. Mom… she… she's not used to being happy." I gulped, realized I was near tears, but didn't even try to hide them. Mom can read me like a book. A large-print book, even. "Makes me so freaking mad… I still say we should play Avenging Angels. Okay, maybe we can't take down North Korea without causing a stink, but couldn't we ask Willow to curse that shithead Kim Jong Un with, I don't know, a permanent urinary tract infection and really nasty diarrhea?"
Mom giggled, covered her mouth as it turned into a guffaw, and leaned more heavily against the door for a second. "Oh, sweetie," she gasped when she could control her laughter. "You can ask Giles, but I'm pretty sure he'd say no. And Willow, I don't think she'd do something like that without his permission."
"Bets?" I said softly. "Remember mom, Mi Kyong said there were people in that camp just for being gay."
Mom opened her mouth— and froze. After a moment, she nodded thoughtfully, and said, "Honey, I don't think I want to hear any more 'bout this— I want to have plausible deniability, in case you do convince her.
"Hey, it's a quarter to five. How 'bout I come wake you girls at six? Supper at six-thirty, Xander's cookin', and Sh'rin's makin' the salad."
"Sounds good, Mom, thanks," I said. "See you then."
I pulled Mi Kyong a little closer, sighed, and dozed off again.
Mom woke us at six, we dressed and went downstairs. Mi Kyong met Gwendolyn and her pseudo dragon, Moonlight (who came right over to snuggle in Mi Kyong's arms for a minute— she was a dragon-person the way some people are dog-or-cat-people). While she was sitting at the table petting Moonlight, Abe (who'd been outside, hanging out with Uncle Ballard's kids when we came home, and most of the time since— he loves the outdoors, at least when the weather's nice) came over and sat beside her, waited his turn. She loved him on sight, too, and soon had a hand each petting him and Moonlight.
We went over to dinner a little before six-thirty, and I kept hold of Mi Kyong's hand (except for the time I spent kissing Colin hello) while introductions went on. She didn't seem terribly nervous, but some nervousness was inevitable. We both met Rhiannon Owen, age twelve, the Welsh Slayer that Gwendolyn had brought home with her. Rhiannon was about five-six already, a little too skinny, and had a face that just missed gorgeous, managing painfully cute, instead. She had the same accent as Gwendolyn, that "I'm singing even when I'm just talking" thing that I love to listen to.
Thanks to me being sneaky, Aunt Rose had a present for Mi Kyong, gave it to her as we sat down at the table to wait the couple of minutes left before the pizzas were ready.
I'd had Royal tell Glitter, Aunt Rose's pseudo dragon friend, that Mi Kyong wanted to read her novelized history of the months after the first Activation Day, and Aunt Rose did it right. She handed Mi Kyong a wrapped hardback copy of the book, and said, "I understand you're interested in this, and I hear you're a big book lover— so I couldn't resist being the first one of the family to give you a book. And to stroke my own ego a little bit, I admit."
Mi Kyong blushed, stammered a thank you, and unwrapped her own copy of Chosen to Stand. Just visible over the top pages was a bookmark tucked in the front cover, and Mi Kyong opened the book to look at the bookmark, as Aunt Rose had intended.
There on the very first page was written, "For Mi Kyong Takeda, Slayer, friend-in-waiting, family-to-be. May the Powers That Be grant you happiness that dwarfs the hurt you've seen!" Aunt Rose had signed it below that dedication— "Rose Erin Killian— I hope I make 'Aunt Rose!' "
Mi Kyong stood up and hugged Aunt Rose hard— and I grinned, knowing that my Aunt Rose would be Aunt Rose to Mi Kyong very soon… if she wasn't already.