Anyway! Enjoy this bit from Matthew's POV.
(Also, I'm sure Julian will soften up eventually, but he's awfully fun to write.)
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
We manage to collapse in Julian’s main room before our wings burst from our backs. As I’m spread out face-down, the extra weight seems to crush in on my panting lungs, but a cold tingle of relief passes through me. How did I ever hold these in?
I can’t hear the footfalls over my breathing, but Julian steps in and peers down at us. He checks the doorway for pursuers before sighing and sitting down nearby.
“Did you make it?” he asks.
“Barely,” I croak.
My brother pushes himself up, although his breathing is no more quiet than mine. “Three fish,” he says, pushing the purchase towards the scribe. “We were going to get some avocados, too, but we couldn’t stay long enough to haggle.”
Julian frowns a bit more. “So that’s all you got?”
Jonathan nods, sitting up straighter. “We didn’t spend all of the beads—”
“You spent too many,” the scribe snaps, although neither of us has shown him our change yet. My brother and I stare at him blankly as we catch our breath.
“What?” Jonathan finally starts.
“Why on earth did you get something you have to cook?” Julian squints at the wrapped fish, scuffing his foot as if to kick dirt over them. “Were you really so confident you’d be able to hide those wings long enough to stay outside and tend to a fire?”
My brother and I exchange a look. I had not thought that far ahead. We haven’t bought or otherwise taken fish in a long time. On occasion we’ve caught them ourselves, but we were always far enough in the wilderness we didn’t worry any more than usual about being caught. I hadn’t thought about how we would cook these. We certainly won’t be starting a fire inside the house—I’m sure we could keep it contained, but I don’t want to risk burning Julian’s house down, especially with all of his books—and there could easily be people passing by outside.
With an exasperated grunt, the scribe swoops down and scoops the fish off the floor. “I don’t know how much presence of mind it takes to operate those wings, but do try to catch up with the rest of us in the way of common sense.” He stomps towards the doorway. “I’ll go out and cook the stupid things so I didn’t waste my money on you. Idiots!”
Without another look back at us, he flits outside and beyond our range of vision. My brother and I sit for a minute, finally breathing normally but speechless nevertheless.
“Is it too late to apologize?” I eventually start, stretching out my wings. They feel awfully cramped. Where exactly have they been jammed this whole time?
“I doubt he’ll think any better of us if we do.” Jonathan sighs, pulling in a wing to lie on his side. “We can definitely thank him, though.”
170 words a day? Sheesh, that's still more than I normally do. The speed at which I'm working on my stories now is unparalleled, but it's still not that regular.
ReplyDeleteHa, poor boys. Julian may be a bit grouchy but he has a point. His irritated demeanour made me laugh, probably because it was so England-like. I certainly wouldn't have thought that far ahead, though.
I really liked the description of how nice it felt to have their wings out again. I never thought about it, but if someone happened to have wings, it probably would be painful or at least uncomfortable to keep them folded in all the time.
Haha, I bumped it up to 175 shortly before putting it on hiatus for Ace Tribute.
DeleteYes, the same. Julian is a lot of fun.
Yeah, that's sort of the feeling they get when the wings are "hidden away" (they're actually all the way off in another dimension-type thing, but it's still a strain not to let them come back).