"Siilver."
A voice pulled at him from the restful darkness and he instantly resisted, focusing only on the imageless haze around him. But then grew frustrated when his concentration caused the exact opposite.
"Come on, Silver, wake up!"
His ear twitched, a movement that he was becoming more and more aware of.
"Noooooo," he groaned, "Let me sleeeep."
He nuzzled his head deeper into his nest, a vain attempt to return to his dreamless sleep.
"Silver, if you don't come out you know I'll dig you out," the high-pitched voice threatened.
Silver didn't respond, daring her to come through on her threat.
When a moment passed and nothing happened Silver began to relax, pleased with himself for calling her bluff. He was beginning to slip back into blissful sleep when several layers of blankets were suddenly ripped off him.
A sharp hiss escaped his throat and he instinctively began to tuck into a protective ball.
"Oh, quit being a baby," she huffed, tossing the blanket and a handful of cloth off to the side.
Silver curled up tighter, trying to artificially recreate the comforting weight of the layers, imagining that the few newspapers left behind were just as heavy and comforting as the blanket.
"C'mon Silver, you're being ridiculous!" she whined, picking the newspapers off of his body page by page.
Each touch made him curl tighter and tighter into a protective ball, his relatively soft quills prickling as he hissed again in annoyance.
"Leave me alone..." his muffled voice protested.
"Nope."
He felt one of her hands push against his back and the sharp yelp of pain that followed pushed any sleep from his mind. Golden eyes snapped open and he instantly uncurled, clumsily twisting around and sitting up to look anxiously at his friend.
The brown and white cat had her back turned to him, her body bent over and her ears pinned down.
"Abelle-! Are you okay?! I- I'm sorry-! I-" He reached out to her, regret and guilt flooding his chest.
But he stopped when she turned her head just enough to reveal her devious smirk.
Silver slowly lowered his hand, his face falling into a scowl.
"Not funny..." he grumbled, slumping over and crossing his arms over his body.
"It worked didn't it?" Abelle said, turning around to face him, revealing her unharmed hands.
"It's still not funny," he protested.
"And it'll never be funny to hiss at a lady," she responded lightly, flicking his nose and making him jump.
He quickly covered his sensitive nose, unhappy that she'd attack him in such a belittling way.
She tilted her head, her dim blue eyes locked on him.
"Why were you so defensive anyways?" she asked. Her expression suddenly paled. "You didn't stay out late did you?"
Silver shook his head, still clutching his nose, not quite trusting Abelle to keep her fingers to herself.
"No, I got back before dark."
She visibly relaxed, sighing in relief. "Oh good." She scooted closer to him, her eyes squinting into his in the dim light. "But, why didn't you want me to wake you up then?"
Silver pulled his hand away from his face, looking down and fiddling with the corner of a newspaper.
"It was just- a really good sleep."
Abelle looked confused, but she shrugged it off.
"Well, in any case, good sleep or not, it's well past sunrise and the Story-teller is back!"
This got Silver's attention.
"She is?"
Abelle nodded, "Yeah! At least- that's what I heard. And it sounds like she's here to stay! I guess the Guardians are cracking down on Mobian traffic, what with the disappearances and all, and it sounds like she's having a hard time moving from city to city. So she's moving here until things blow over!"
Silver could hardly contain his excitement. The Story-teller! Here to stay! He leapt up from his thoroughly destroyed nest, a broad grin over his muzzle.
"Do you know where she's staying?" He asked, hurrying past her to pick up his cloak from off the floor and slipping it over his shoulders.
Abelle followed his movements, her ears twisting to the sound of his rustling.
"I think the same place she usually does. And from what Momma told me, she'll be doing her shows every other day!"
She stood to join him, her hands gingerly reaching up to make sure she didn't hit anything.
"What time?" Silver questioned, checking and refastening the wraps covering his hands. Still firm.
"Momma said just after the sun comes over Ol' Faithful."
Silver nodded, tossing a couple sticks into his ever burning fire and hoping it would be enough to last a few hours.
"Are we too late?"
Abelle grinned. "Nope."
Silver turned back to her, taking her hand and gently guiding her out of the hole in the wall, pushing the tarp out of their way as he pulled the hood over his messy quills.
"Then let's go!"
~•~•~•~
The two children had made their way through the maze of alleys with Silver dutifully leading Abelle as quickly as he dared.
His excitement urged him to move faster, but he wanted to be considerate towards his friend, which was at times appreciated and at other times laughed upon. Today had happened to be the latter. She had even led him through some of the alleys, her excitement nearly matching his own.
The Story-teller was an elderly mobian who traveled city to city, carrying stories and legends of old and retelling them to anyone who would hear. Sometimes her 'shows' would be just an extravagant retelling of some fantastical event in history around a fire. But other times, when she had time to set up a Story-house, she would use puppets and dancing shadows to bring her stories to life.
Abelle and Silver both shared an affinity for the stories of old and were always eager for the Story-teller to revisit their part of town.
Silver glanced up, finding the constant blot of grey in the sky and feeling his pulse quicken when he noticed the sun creep closer to it.
His grip tightened on Abelle's hand and he picked up the pace. She stumbled at first, but was able to keep up.
"Are we getting late?"
"Yeah, the sun's almost reached it."
"See? You shouldn't have slept in!"
Silver ignored her, looking both ways for any threats before turning into a larger alley.
The Story-teller's tent usually stayed next to a rundown tavern on the outskirts of the Mire, where she would usually be given a room. Why she didn't have to pay rent like other Mobians was beyond Silver. Mysteries aside, it made it easier for kids to find her whenever she came to their part of the city.
The tight alleys began to broaden as they hurried along, legible graffiti peeling off of old walls. In some places the merge between the higher classes and the Undertow wasn't as abrupt, where abandoned buildings stretched into more space. It was in such areas in that organized syndicates, gangs and mobs would gather, as well as some shops and bars, mostly bars though.
They turned a corner and nearly ran into a scraggly furred mink. Silver barely pulled Abelle out of the way with a yelp.
"Sorry!" he called back, not slackening his pace. The mink didn't seem to care, shuffling on his way with a series of low mumbles.
"Silver, you have to be more careful!" Abelle chided.
"Sorry," Silver apologized, "I just don't want to miss anything!"
She mumbled something that Silver didn't pay enough attention to to hear, every one of his six senses focused on one goal. Getting to the story-teller's tent, preferably without incident. He dodged and weaved past the small amount of traffic that kept Mobians in the walkways, careful to keep Abelle out of their paths as well. Every so often, when he'd get too close to a stranger, he would feel her jump in surprise and alarm at their sudden closeness to her.
It made him feel a little guilty when she did that.
She spoke up, "Aren't we getting close?"
Silver's eyes darted to the left, taking a turn at a crossroads. His sharp eyes scanned the beaten buildings on both sides of the road, his face lighting up when he spotted one such building with a large sign hanging above the doorway. The sign was made of steel, rusted through in various places, and one word emblazoned across the front in fading orange font. 'Tavern'.
"Yup! Almost there!" he told her excitedly.
Her own face brightened and her steps hurried to keep a faster pace.
Silver's eyes locked onto a makeshift shelter lodged between the tavern and the building to its right. The story-teller's tent.
Silver spotted other children hurrying to enter the tent, pulling aside the long, slitted cloth that made up the entrance. Some he recognized from his area in the Mire, others he didn't. But no one minded a couple strangers here and there. It was no surprise that some children belonging to the higher classes would sneak away to visit the magical lady who told wondrous stories of legendary proportion.
A bat girl with cream colored fur ducked into the tent entrance just before Silver and Abelle.
Silver quickly pulled aside the thick fabric, holding it open and allowing Abelle to enter first. A grin spread across his muzzle as she stared forward, gaping at the sudden darkness that enveloped them.
Though the entrance seemed thin and cramped, the inside of the shelter was quite spacious. It used the gaps and holes in the walls to its advantage, including the giant opening in the tavern, which had been blocked off from the inside, for security reasons, and took up the entire alley for its space, creating a sort of semicircle around the back end of the alley.
At the back of the alley was where the story-teller would sit, the space furnished with a humble wooden stool, chipped with age, as well as several items that the story teller may or may not use in a story. A small fire crackled in front of the stool, casting a warm glow across the faces of the children lucky enough to get first row.
Blankets carpeted the ground, worn by thousands of tiny feet constantly trampling on top of them. Regardless, they were fairly clean, and felt like soft cotton beneath Silver's bare, scuffed up feet.
"We're here," he whispered, somehow feeling that if he'd made noise, he would be violating some law, despite the broad space already being filled with children's excited murmuring.
Abelle turned her head to him, though her pale blue eyes remained focused on the light ahead of the fire.
"Yes I know, I'm not completely blind," she teased.
Silver couldn't help wincing at her joke, but quickly shook it off as he once again moved to lead her through the crowd.
"C'mon, let's see if we can find a place up front so you can see better."
Her resistance against his pull made him stop to look at her, confused.
"What's the matter?"
She smiled softly at him, her gaze never leaving the source of light that flickered and sparked.
"Nothing's the matter," she whispered assuringly, "Let's just, sit in the back this time. We came late, we should let the ones who came first, and the younger kids, be in front."
"But-" Silver glanced at the empty stool, bathed in the weak firelight- "You won't be able to see anything."
"Silver," she chuckled, "You don't need to see to experience a story."
Her ears turned forward and back, twisting around as she tilted her head.
"You just need to listen."
He hesitated once more before nodding and guiding her to someplace in the back, deciding on the brick wall of the tavern, where the crowd of children seemed less thick.
"Here," he said, guiding her to his decided sitting spot and gently pulling her hand down to signal that they were at a safe place to sit.
She took the hint, sitting herself down so that she was comfortably leaning with her back to the wall, legs crossed in front of her. He let go of her hand and seated himself next to her, joining her in staring after the flickering fire a few yards ahead of them.
He found himself imagining being in Abelle's shoes. What did all of the world look like to her now? Was it more blurry? He imagined it'd be that way. But out of all the blurry things, could she see some better than others? Just by watching the way she would react to things, he'd pieced together that she could see light more clearly, and was more naturally focused on it. Objects and people closer to her seemed to get her attention as well, so the closer he stood to her, the better she could see him. But was he just a blurry figure to her? Or could she actually see his quills and fur with clarity?
He would just ask her, but he felt like it would be rude and insensitive. And he didn't want to upset her.
Abelle turned her head to him, unaware of his distant pondering.
"You can take that hood off ya know."
Silver started, looking at her in confusion.
"Huh?"
She reached up and gently tugged the old cloth covering his head.
"The hood. You should take it off. We're in the back, so no one will see you, and even if they did, everyone will be too busy listening to the story-teller."
Silver sucked in a breath, letting it out in a sigh as he tentatively pulled the hood down, letting it fall to his shoulders. His eyes darted warily around the room, watching the other children to make sure they hadn't turned to look at him.
"There," Abelle whispered, and silver's head jerked around to look at her. He was confused to see her smiling.
"Now I can see you," she said.
Silver's brow went up in surprise. She could see him?
"How?"
He regretted asking the moment it came out of his mouth, guilt washing over him as her smile pursed into a thoughtful frown.
"I'm not sure... You're just easier to see than other people. Maybe it's because of your fur..?"
The guilt abated, replaced by curiosity. So she could see some colors better than others..?
Abelle shook her head, the smile coming back to her face.
"Whatever the reason, it doesn't matter. I like being able to see my best friend." Her gaze went back to the fire, a sorry look on her face, as if she regretted something. "It makes me sad that you have to hide all the time. No one knows how lucky they are to be able to see someone as special as you."
Silver stared at her. Dumbfounded and oddly touched by her sentiment. He opened his mouth to say something in return, but struggled to find the right words. A simple thanks didn't feel right, but he couldn't think of anything better.
Thankfully Abelle changed the topic, her ears focused forward as she leaned away from the wall, grabbing at his hand excitedly.
"Is that her? Is that her!?" she whispered, pointing past the crowd of seated children.
Silver's attention turned towards the front, and he saw an old possum venture into the fire light and sit down on the stool with an air of authority. The story-teller herself.
Abelle's grip tightened on his hand, "Does she look the same as I remember?"
Silver looked the story-teller up and down, taking in her thin frame, draped in layers upon layers of frayed shawls. Her wrinkles had tripled since the last time they'd seen her, though the flickering firelight didn't help, casting shadows that seemed to deepen those wrinkles. Her fur had dulled and greyed, though her layers of extravagantly colored shawls covered the most of it.
Despite her having obviously aged, her eyes were still sharp and lively, and her back was straight, her movements quick and easy.
"She looks older. But she's still pretty much the same," Silver whispered into Abelle's ear.
She nodded, accepting the answer.
The story-teller raised a thin, bony hand instantly killing any hushed whispers that had been left. All the children, small to large, leaned forward intently with more focus then they had ever given in their lifetime. Everyone brimming with anticipation for the story-teller to begin.
The possum looked over the crowd of children, taking in all of their focused, excited, and awed expressions. Her gaze locked onto Silver's for half a second, and the hedgehog found himself holding his breath.
Finally, the aged possum smiled, waved out her thin arms dramatically, and began to speak.
"Greetings children," her voice was smooth, like silk, drastically different from her physical appearance. It enchanted Silver, enthralling him with its musical tone and he found himself already being drawn into its mystery. "I'm glad so many of you could make it here to see me today. And I hope to see just as many of you in the days to come, since I'll be staying here for a long while."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd of children.
The possum smiled in amusement, "But, you're not here to listen to me go on about my current schedule and accommodations."
She leaned forward on her stool, reaching up into the folds of her shawls as she did.
"You're here, to be amazed!"
Her hand whipped out, throwing a strange powder on the fire, causing the flame to explode in a burst of purples and violet.
The kids in the front row gasped and jerked backwards, everyone else gawking at the sight.
"What happened.?" Abelle whispered, "Why did the light get brighter?"
Silver leaned closer to her, "She did the fire trick..."
The corners of Abelle's lips turned up, her hand squeezing his in excitement.
The awe inspired whispers eventually settled back down, and the story-teller finally began to tell her tales.
Abelle and Silver listened intently as the possum began her story weaving with little fables. Mostly for the younger kids who had attention spans as short as a honey badger's temper.
These starter stories weren't like the legends and myths Abelle and Silver adored. These were little stories, obviously pretentious, sometimes containing morals for the young kids to learn from. That didn't keep Abelle and Silver from listening though.
Both of them leaned forward, ears focused so that they could catch every word spoken by the story-teller.
Eventually the smaller children grew more distracted, unable to sit still for so long, and began to filter out of the tent, most likely to play a game in the streets and alleys of the Mire. The others that stayed were quick to take their places, filling the gaps they'd left behind.
Silver and Abelle remained in their spots. Content to sit and listen from the back.
Finally, the story-teller turned to telling the more serious tales. Ones that held value in some cultures as legend or superstition.
Abelle and Silver had heard many of these stories multiple times over, but it didn't stop them from wanting to hear them again. And they both secretly wished that the story-teller would decide to retell their own favorites.
Abelle's favorite legend was about a princess who tried hard to warn her father and people that the things they were doing were wicked and would bring the wrath of a great beast upon them. Of course, her father didn't listen, even going so far as to imprison and beat her. In the end, the beast was aroused and destroyed the entire kingdom. But the princess was held safe, befriending the great creature and living the rest of her life in peace in the creature's homeland. Far away from her ruined kingdom and its cruel people.
Silver didn't understand why girls liked those kinds of stories. But he supposed that his favorite was probably childish in the eyes of some as well.
His favorite was always about the legendary Guardian of the Wind. There were so many different legends and recollections of all that the Guardian of the Wind did, but Silver counted all of them as one story together. Which Abelle would always point out as unreasonable.
He hoped that the story-teller would tell them more legends about the Guardian of the Wind today.
As if she had read his mind, the story-teller leaned forward to the remaining crowd of older children.
"Now, I have traveled far and wide for stories and fables such as these. But the true mystery is deciphering between whether a story is simply a tall tale, or a legend derived from true events in our shrouded past."
Silver and Abelle shifted forward, sitting on their knees and not even resting against the wall anymore.
"Not many fables and stories are privileged to become legends. But there is one that surpasses even the most plausible myth. The Guardian of the Wind!" She threw a line of powder at the fire, causing the flame to once again grow and curl in a wild burst, this time turning the firelight a rich blue.
Silver felt his excitement grow, a giddy smile pulling on his muzzle.
The fire died down, turning back to its normal orange and red. The story-teller stared into the flames thoughtfully.
"After my many travels, I have come across a new legend pertaining to this mysterious Wind Spirit."
Silver felt his heart skip a beat. A new legend about the Guardian of the Wind? What luck!
He scooted forward excitedly, pushing his confusion to her calling the hero the 'Wind Spirit' to the back of his mind, his ears trained on the story-teller as she began her tale.
It began as usual, with an evil man called the Roboticizer, trying to take over the world as usual. The Guardian of the Wind, or the Wind Spirit, as she kept oddly referring to him as, went to confront the evil man, the wind at his heals so that he traveled faster than any mobian before or after him.
Both him and Abelle listened with horror as the Story-Teller recounted how the Roboticizer would capture living animals and stuff them into his terrible creations. But for as many as the Roboticizer captured and used for his creations, the Wind Spirit was always one step behind him, freeing the captives with one swift blow.
But the Roboticizer had other plans.. He had created a giant ship, so large and menacing that the only place where it could fit was in the very expanse and power of heaven.
Whatever the Roboticizer was planning, the Wind Spirit knew he had to stop it. So he traveled all over the world, collecting the mysterious Magic Stones, stones so powerful that only a very few could actually use all of their power at once. Though it was only a story, Silver could feel something stir inside of him at the mention of the magical stones.
His imagination took the story-teller's words and embellished them, transforming them into powerful imagery that filled him with excitement.
He pictured the magnificent stones clutched in the strong hands of the Wind Spirit as he faced off against the evil Roboticizer. Painting an image in his mind of a strong and tall mobian courageously standing on a mountain, confronting the evil Roboticizer. The magic stones gripped firmly in his hands cast light, instead of shadows, burning with purity and power, both of which the Spirit of the Wind would wield for the good of everyone on the world.
He tried to imagine what it would have been like, to feel their magical power coming over him. And then how it would feel to use that mysterious power to defeat evil. To fight for good. To save lives...
"Silver...! I think you need to calm down...!"
The hedgehog jolted at the voice hissing in his ear, his head jerking round to Abelle. She didn't return the gesture, her gaze fixated on something between them.
"What? What's-"
His voice trailed off as his gaze followed hers down to where their hands met. His eyes widened, ice freezing his lungs as he saw a gentle cyan light flare and dim from under the cloth wraps.
His blood ran cold, and he suddenly became acutely aware of the electrical buzz in the back of his mind. He quickly jerked his hand away from her, staggering to his feet with shaky breaths.
"I'm sorry- I'll- I'll be back." He whispered hurriedly. The cat nodded her understanding, watching him as he hurried past her and disappeared outside the tent.
~•~•~•~
Abelle stared at the door a few more moments, a small frown pulling her muzzle downward. Her ear twitched at the sound of nearby whispering and her head spun towards the sound.
The sound came from a group of kids a row or two ahead of her, and she could tell by their silhouettes that they were staring back at her. She felt her fur bristle as she squinted, trying to focus her failing vision enough to try and identify the faces. But they must have noticed her attention on them and they quickly went back to listening to the story.
She leaned back, relaxing, before her worry once again twisted her face into a grim expression. Had they been whispering about her? Or Silver?
~•~•~•~
Once Silver was outside, he forced himself to level his breathing, his arms shaking as he clutched his hands close to his chest.
Just- take slow breaths. Calm down, relax. Nothing's happened. Everything is fine.
He glanced both ways, watching for anyone who could possibly take a little too much notice in him. A handful of older Mobians spread throughout his surroundings, but none of them paid him any heed, much to his relief.
Hurrying over to an outside corner of the tent, where the thick material met the hot brick of the building next to it, he turned his back on the street, blocking any view to what he was doing from anyone who would happen to walk by.
Silver quickly unwrapped his hands, letting the cloth drop to the ground for the time being. Once his first hand was completely uncovered he held it out in front of him, revealing a circular mark with a line trailing halfway up his wrist until it disappeared into his dirty gray-white fur.
He grimaced at the sight, watching as the marking brightened and dimmed like a warning beacon, casting the surrounding fur in a strobing cyan light. The tips of his fingers trembled, his heart racing despite his best attempts to calm himself.
Just as quickly as the first, he turned his focus to his other hand and uncoiled the wrapping, letting it fall to the ground with its comrade.
Silver sucked in short breaths through his teeth, holding his hands so that his palms faced up, his eyes darting over their glowing emblems.
Okay Silver. This is fine! Just- just relax. Focus...
His brow furrowed as he tried to calm the growing buzz in the back of his mind as well as the throbbing heat coming from his hands.
He inhaled through his nose, forcing his heart to even out as he slowly released the breath from his tight lips.
Just breathe. It's not like you've never had this happen before.
Another breath. This time he turned his hands around slowly, blocking out everything except the pulsing warmth that glowed from his marks and the electricity that flowed from his mind and buzzed through his veins.
Come on now. You know we can't be seen like this.! Just calm down- and we can go back inside before we miss more of the story.
He thought soothingly, trying to reason with the energy thrumming excitedly through his tiny body. He didn't think it could actually understand him, but sometimes focusing on trying to appease the swelling energy would temper it back into remission.
"Please," he muttered, clenching and unclenching his hands in an attempt to slow the pulsing light, "At least hold off until we get back home. If anyone sees..."
He trailed off. His mind wandered worriedly to the possibilities of what kinds of abuse he would be subjected to if others knew about his… condition. He was already shunned because of rumors. And he was certain that other rumors have been spread concerning something similar to his condition. But for everyone to know, for a fact, that he possessed some sort of strange ability?
It would be social suicide.
Only Abelle knew. She'd seen him when he'd had a similar episode a while back, and since her eyes hadn't been as bad at the time she had seen everything in great detail. It was ironic really, because he had decided to stay home that day specifically so that no one would see him. So, of course, Abelle had decided on that specific day to visit him at his den. And bitter irony must've felt especially evil, because the one and only person to have actually seen him as he was, had later found out that she was afflicted with an illness slowly stealing her sight.
But Silver didn't want to think about that right now. He had to focus on getting his episode under control before someone became curious as to why a little albino hedgehog was standing stock still with his face to a tent wall.
He turned his palms back up, releasing a relieved breath when he saw that the pulsating light had dimmed, and he felt the streams of energy in his body begin to subside. The loud buzzing that had occupied the back half of his mind had lulled to a gentle hum, slowly growing more faded and distant with every breath he took.
His heart had settled back to its slow and steady rhythm, while his lungs were still leisurely taking long, calming breaths. As the light from his markings gently waned back to normal, leaving only a soft glow of cyan from the marks, his hands began to steady.
Relief and exhaustion both flooded into him with equal devastation, making him slouch over and rest his forehead against the tent, incidentally finding that the cloth covered a part of the brick wall.
"Thank you," he whispered, pulling his hands up to his chest as if he were embracing them, "Thank you..."
The low hum was barely noticeable now, and the surge of energy was gone from his limbs. Still, he continued to breathe, deep and slow. Mostly from feeling suddenly lethargic, but also to relieve the dull headache that pushed against the sides of his head.
He closed his eyes, leaning against the padded wall and just allowing himself to rest for a moment.
The episode was small, so it wouldn't take him long to recover. The headache would go away, and he'd feel more awake in a little while. Then he could go back inside and finish listening to the story with Abelle.
He sighed in frustration, reopening his eyes.
You always have to pick the perfect times to act up, don't you?
The quiet hum didn't respond, making him sigh once again.
"At least the headache's almost gone," he muttered, pulling away from the wall and massaging the sides of his head.
Dropping his gaze down at the ground he saw the long strips of cloth that usually covered the unusual marks of his hands. A low groan uttered from his throat when he saw that the cloth had not escaped entirely unscathed. Parts of the material had begun to fade, creating a series of random splotches that made the material almost transparent.
He timidly crouched down, picking up the material from the ground and turning it over in his hands as he grimly studied it.
They were still usable, he'd just have to make sure to wrap it over his hand so the splotches wouldn't overlap over his marks.
With much care and trepidation, he began to rewrap each hand, tying them off when they reached halfway to his elbow.
He turned his hands over, clenching and unclenching his fists to test that the wraps were secure. They were. And the splotches were hardly noticeable, perhaps even mistakable for oil stains.
Relieved that the whole ordeal was finally over, he stood up. Glancing around one last time to make sure no one had noticed him, he padded back to the tent doorway and ducked inside.
The darkness enveloped him, and he sucked in a lungful of the hot air. He tried to make himself as small and unnoticeable as possible as he ducked back to his and Abelle's spot.
His ears perked when he saw her, her glossy eyes fixated on the flickering light in front of the story-teller, though her head instantly snapped up when he passed in front of her. Her eyes never left him as he sat back down, his legs crossed and hands buried inside them.
He couldn't bring himself to look at her, even though he could feel her watching him with royal focus. Something squeezed in his chest, and he flinched. Was it guilt.? Maybe.
"You okay?" She whispered, concern and worry prominent in her tone as she reached up and put one hand on his shoulder. He stiffened at the touch, fighting back the instinct to recoil.
A tight exhale hissed through his pursed lips as his shoulders hunched and his eyes followed a crease in the carpet on his other side.
"I'll be fine.."
It was all he could answer. What else could he say?
There was a pause as she mulled over his answer. Slowly she nodded, turning back to look at the fire warmly flickering beyond them.
"Alright. If you're sure."
Another tight squeeze in his chest.
"Abelle..?"
She didn't look at him, but the hand still resting on his shoulder gave him enough assurance that she was completely aware of him.
"Yeah?"
Silver tucked his head, nervously playing with a string that had sprung up from the carpet between his legs.
"I'm sorry for worrying you.."
Her ear twitched and a hint of annoyance crossed her expression.
"Don't be."
"But-"
"Don't." She looked at him this time, her eyes stern and voice commanding.
He faltered, unsure that he could conjure words that would be able to relieve the strange ache in his chest. She didn't give him much time to think anyway.
"Silver, you don't have to be sorry for anything," her gaze softened, "Don't let something you can't help bother you. If I didn't get worried, I wouldn't be a good friend to you. I choose to be worried for you. So don't apologize."
Once again Silver found himself mute, his hands going still.
She shook herself, patting his shoulder before grinning towards the story-teller.
"If anything you should apologize for missing such a cool story," she teased, "And you'll have to apologize if you make me miss more of the other stories just because you're gonna be mopey."
Silver felt his lips turn upward, the squeezing in his chest slowly releasing, leaving a soothing calm behind.
"Right, sorry," he whispered with a chuckle.
She giggled, pulling her hand from his shoulder and using it as a brace against the carpeted ground.
Silver didn't turn his attention to the story-teller right away. Instead, he took a moment to look his friend over, just to try and grasp how lucky he was to have her as a friend.
He pulled his gaze back to the story-teller, a happy smile on his muzzle.
My friend...
~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~
{Story Facts! : The Mire
The Mire is the area in which the Undertow reside in Silver's part of the city. It's one of the largest Undertow communities in the nation, and is filled with, sometimes dangerous, no-goods and lowlifes. Because of the city's massive borders and the tight space in that area, Undertow came flocking to the area from all the nearby cities.
The Mire is notoriously known for its drug cartels, mobs, and gangs, among other things. Though these are all generally located in more populated parts of the Mire, deeper within the heart of the community and farther from the higher society and order outside the Mire boundaries. Because of this inside economy, parts of the Mire have sprouted, seemingly at random, shops, bars, stores and other places of establishment. But because there is no law enforcement, these shop owners can be exceptionally more wary than those outside the Mire.
Sometimes those of higher classes will visit the Mire for its legal aloofness, since most crimes that are acted upon by legal force outside the Mire, are left uncorrected inside the Mire.
In a place where activities such as stilling are unhindered, Mobians and Humans are sure to eventually come. }
~ Author's Note ~
In case any of you were wondering. Abelle is a name that I informally derived from the old Irish óibell, which means "spark, fire".
Just thought you might be curious.
God bless!