Untitled anthology returns! ...and so do I
Untitled
Chapter: 6
Genere: Action/Adventure, shounen-ai, Original
Summary: Hodisman is finally upon us! (I should have gotten this to you guys on Christmas, but oh Hell.) The boys celebrate it together. Fluffiness! Gifts! Amusement! Chaos!
Warnings: PG. My only warning is for the Fluffiness...oh the fluffiness.
Chapter 6
…Winter Solstice, where Somoas would hold his yearly festival of lights. Where they would drink so much and rejoice that their mead and heavenly wine would fall from the sky onto all of Kiang…
Snow had quickly covered the city of Vianable in the short amount of time that it had started. Surprised as he was looking at his companion, Vallak couldn’t help but hate the frozen wonders. He marveled at them at first, when he first came here-but he grew to dislike the coldness of them, rather than the warm sun beating down on his back. He wasn’t a snow or cold kind of person, he-and always would-belonged in the desert.
But Grey…Well, he belonged out there in the snow. Somehow the freezing cold around his heart matched with how cold it was outside. But the sight of him in the snow, endlessly spinning would later never to fail to haunt his dreams now and then. Like an angel…He thought with a smile, thinking back upon that time.
Grey’s eyelashes had beautifully caught the snowflakes, and his lips and cheeks had turned this lovely hue of pink but slightly blue. It had been a while since they’d found each other in the freezing cold. He’d looked up where the snowflakes spiraled out of the sky to him; gray eyes now a frozen blue of deep, deep water. He threw his arms out and spun around in his spot in the empty lot, matting down a circle of snow.
Vallak had simply stopped and looked on, a gentle smile on his face. “Why are you doing that?” He said it quietly. No one else was outside anymore.
Grey didn’t stop spinning to look at him, he just stared up at the sky where the snow spiraled down to him. “I used to do this when I was little.” He said, barely audible over the slight howl of the winter wind. A slight pause and a barely visible tremble in his frame, and then he continued, “…I…used to wish that the sky would swallow me up.”
The darker boy jerked in surprise. He hadn’t known Grey to house such dark thoughts. But at that time, he hadn’t been close enough to his heart to tackle them. So instead, he tried to shoo them away to the deeper recesses of Grey’s heart, where he could hunt them later, rip them from his very existence. “Grey! Come on, you have to get home, you’re all blue.” He smiled a little. “How unrefined!” He teased in a high pitched voice he’d dubbed as the ‘Grey Voice.’
Grey just looked at him for a moment through the snow, batting his eyelashes, his bangs moving slightly over as he turned his head to uncover his face a little more. Vallak blinked, taken aback by the sudden beauty in front of him. He held out his one gloved hand-to touch something lovely--to reach to him but Grey turned and started to walk to the street “It is cold.” He murmured.
“Ah…” Vallak deflated, shoulders slumping. Oh well, maybe next time.
***
Back at home, everything reverted back to normal. It seemed just like any year, with his mother running around with her already tiered maids looking for dresses and his father off somewhere in the library catching up on his reading for dinner conversations.
Sitting in the large family room with the high, lofty ceiling, he tilted his head back against the worn but plush leather chair to stare up at it. The woodwork seemed to swim before his eyes in flour de leis and carved vines.
Everything seemed back to normal. Except the excitement he felt in his heart for the first time in many, many years. This year, he hoped would be different. Closing his eyes, he imagined the snow back around him, floating passively and circling out of the sky. Clinging to Vallak’s coal black hair in stark contrast, like stars in an inky black sky.
He smiled and compulsively checked back to his fingers. They were so different, Vallak and him. How was it possible that they’d lasted being around each other this long without being caught? Surely the ruse would have been seen through by now, but his parents remained blissfully ignorant to the real reason he’d come home beaten that day.
Wincing, flashes of that day seared images to the back of his eyes. It seemed like he’d never be able to forget. His head lolled sleepily to the side of the chair’s headrest, snippets of his parent’s conversation floating to his ears.
Brief spoken words, unimportant in their matter, gossiping like his mother was known for.
“…Oh my, David, doesn’t it seem frightening?”
“I suppose it does unnerve.”
“Yes dear, they say he’s coming to Vianable, too! That Mamoraoth, The Black Hand.”
“Oh that’s just talk, Lauraline. Don’t you worry about such rot as such.”
Grey rolled his eyes from his mother’s unreasonable scared and rushed voice. She made things such big deals. What rubbish. Such legends as the Bandit King didn’t exist. He tapped his fingers against the dark brown leather and counted until they left the house for the night, without such as a good bye or a kiss. Grey had just assumed they’d forgotten all together they even had a son.
He heard shuffling on the carpets and his eyes snapped open. He hadn’t even known he’d even closed them. Disappointedly-though he would not admit it-he saw one the household’s maids before him. Her name was Belle, and she had lovely blonde curls and pretty blue eyes; she’d been shipped in from the country up north called Berggebiet. She’d come when her father had visited her country and spotted her working at an inn, he’d said. Grey was sure his father had seen more than a maid in her.
“Yes, what is it Belle?” He answered wearily; thinking about affairs made his head spin.
“Young master, I…came to say that all the servants have left for the holidays. I came to wish you a Happy Hodisman.” She reached into the pocket of her apron and produced a small red envelope. “I want you to have this before I leave.” She said meekly.
He accepted it, a bit surprised, and nodded his thanks. She began to leave but lingered at the door strangely. “Don’t open it until I leave, alright sir?”
Grey’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion but nodded anyway, watching her retreat until she closed the front door behind her with a soft slam. Looking at the package in his hands for a moment, he opened it, and inside he found a letter, two short pages of parchment with scribblish penmanship. Obviously stolen scraps from the master’s desk. He was surprised she even knew how to read and write. As he opened it up, the head of a slightly withered plant fell from the folds. Confused, he picked it up and studied it. It was a sprig of fragrant but withered green sweet basil, from what memory served him. Shaking his head, he opened up the letter to read it. Scrawled on the letter it read:
Young Master,
I wished for you to be the one to know that I am running away. I am going back to my little village in Berggebiet. You see, I have a fiancé that I love very much back at home. We were to be married before the master sent for me in Vianable. Homesickness tugs at me painfully, and I can no longer stay. I am sorry for leaving you alone like this, but I hope you can make good friends and become a strong person, this is goodbye young master.
Surprised he read this, as someone strolled in from the direction of the kitchen and pantry. “Whoo! Goo’ thing I didn’t have to look for you in this house! But really, you shouldn’t leave your pantry door open like that.”
Grey looked up from the letter, unexplainable relief washing over his features briefly. Vallak had really kept his word! He sat there, staring in disbelief. “Well, you going to sit and stare or are we getting to the festivities?” Vallak smirked, moving a sweeping arm back to the kitchen. “Oh, hey, what’s that you’ve got there?” He pointed to the letter in one hand and the head of the plant in the other.
Grey shook his head, holding out the sprig, “What is this supposed to mean? It came in a letter.”
Vallak reached out curiously, taking the herb gently, studying it before sniffing it and recognizing the minty scent. He gave him an intrigued look, grinning, “It says…best wishes.” He answered.
“Ah.” The blonde nodded, moving past the darker boy, into the kitchen, looking around for the roast left for him.
“Who left their best wishes?” Vallak asked; interest piqued.
Grey moved the cloth cover off of a pot to discover the small roast, frowning. Maybe there wasn’t enough here for the both of them. Vallak moved to stand behind him, forgetting all thoughts of the letter and herb found within when the sight to food came around.
“Who is that scrumptious thing for?” He said, practically drooling, fingers straying toward the pot.
Slapping his fingers away, Grey scowled. “Us, you idiot. It’s what you do on Hodisman, you eat yourself sick and exchange gifts and feel thankful for it all.”
An eyebrow raised, he looked down at the blonde, “Wow, you seem to have really gotten the spirit down with that tone of voice.” Grey huffed in response, moving the roast to the overly large dining room as he forced two china plates into Vallak’s chest, and set it all on the table.
Deciding it would be simply a riot, Vallak decided to set his place on the opposite side of Grey’s seat; the opposite seat at the end of an eighteen seated table.
“Grey! Pass the roast, I want another piece!” He called up the table to the blonde, who was glowering at the piece in his plate. “What?! I’m not going to serve it to you, come and get it yourself.” He retorted, stabbing the slice of meat in his plate violently with his fork.
“I said pass it, you girl, I’m not going all the way up there!”
“What?!” He roared in a less-than manly way, “Alright, fine!” he shoved the pot hard down the long, mahogany table, and it flew with surprising ease down the wood, making an unsightly scraping noise. He was sure the table was damaged, but he didn’t rightly care, the whole matter was too funny to worry about furniture.
Soon, it turned into a riotous game, shoving up and down the table, the poor roast, juices splashing over the rim of the pot. Screech, screech, push, push. Laughter filled the room. Finally, Grey felt outmatched and shoved the pot particularly hard.
The pot came flying into Vallak’s chest, and then over his head and splattering all over the wall behind him. Vallak being Vallak collapsed out of his chair in uproarious, hysterical laughter that slid in easy, deep peals making Grey crack up and slump in his chair from lack of air.
Finally when the fit of laughter ended, they both realized that their meal was ruined, and possibly the wall and carpets.
Grey sighed heavily, “What a disaster, what will we do now?”
The chair scrapped the floor as Vallak suddenly stood up, a bright look on his clever face, alight with an idea. Later on in their friendship, Grey would have learned to dread the times that that look crossed his companion’s face…
***
It took tooth and nail to drag Grey into this place, but it was well worth it to see his expression when he saw the Bainir slums of Vianable lit up like a church on Hodisman. Not only that, but people littered the streets everywhere, merry, exotic music flowed through the streets as snow on the ground lye in colored patches and designs. Everywhere, food was served and the smell permeated every nook and cranny with the scent of foreign desert spices.
Grey blinked in wonder, head craning to look around everywhere at once. “Why is everyone outside instead of inside? I thought your people didn’t celebrate Hodisman.”
Vallak grinned, placing a hand on Grey’s shoulder to stop him as a noisy cart came tumbling by. “We don’t.” He said simply, “We celebrate a little thing called winter solstice.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, it’s sort of like the last big hurrah before we have to move on to the second season area.” He saw that Grey was confused, laughing he frustratedly rubbed the back of his head, “Well, you see, we have two seasons in Balalbirru-first is the dry season, where we have no rain at all, and then the rainy season, where we have some rain, at least enough to fill the bottom of long dried-up lakes. Winter solstice is the rainy season, ‘winter’ is the closest translation to the word for our season. So before winter starts,” He gestured around him, “We throw a large celebration in hope of a good rain and the season to go without severe drought. We praise the Gods in hope of a blessing of rain.”
Grey nodded, looking around, with a slight smile, “I guess I sort of see that.” He shook his head in wonder, “I never guessed there’d be another holiday that fell around the same time around Hodisman. I don’t know…I just guessed everyone else in the world celebrated it.” He shrugged sheepishly.
Vallak lent him a slight smile, “It’s hard seeing through someone else’s eyes, isn’t it?” He shook his head to banish the thought, “Never mind it though, let’s celebrate the eve of our friendship, shall we?”
Grey tugged out of his grasp suddenly irritated “We’re not friends.” He muttered, looking down.
A sigh, and then he proceeded to keep his distance, wincing. He had to be more careful with his words, but still, this was Vallak. Vallak would be Vallak. “Then…let’s just look around, hmm?”
“Fine.” Was his only answer. Vallak felt terrible; what exactly did he do wrong? The boy wanted friends, right? Why wouldn’t he let anyone in?
“Just-try not to get in trouble, alright?”
A snide chuckle, “I should be saying that.”
Vallak gave him a look with a serious eye, “Remember this isn’t your house is all, alright?”
Confusion plastered Grey’s face as he watched the darker boy disappear within the boisterous crowd of all dark-skinned people. He suddenly realized, looking around him, he was the only light-skinned person around. Anxiety shot through his blood. What if they told him to leave? He wondered how he hadn’t noticed before Vallak left-this strong sense of not belonging…like ruining someone else’s party, coming uninvited. He walked around, begging for the ground to swallow him up for a second time.
He wouldn’t admit to himself or anyone else that he needed someone else’s help on this. That would make him weak like his father said he always was, more weak than he already knew he was. His gray eyes passed over colorful splashes of designs, stalls of all kinds, and performers in jolly songs. People all over knew what they were doing, having fun, being with each other…
Lost in his thoughts, he carelessly bumped into a small, forgotten stall on the corner of a street. “Oh! I apologize!” He said quickly, turning to an old Bainir woman with hair as white as snow and skin the color and texture of prunes righted herself, smiling at him. “Oh, that’ssss alright, young sirrr.” Her accent was rough, and it was quite hard to understand it, but he leant down, picking up her heavy shawl in apology.
She ran her hands over his gently, studying him intently, then accepting the shawl, “I don’t see many white skins around here, you know. What are you doing out on a night like this, child?”
Grey was taken aback by the question. “Well I-“ His shoulders slumped, shaking his head. Who lied to an old woman? “…I don’t know.”
She laughed heartily, patting his hand with a dried, wrinkled one of her own, and her many bangles jingled merrily. “Have you lost yourself, boy?” Her beady, bluish-white eyes stared up at him with so much penetration that Grey physically jerked back, as if scalded. “N-no I…I just lost a f-“ he righted himself quickly, “-An acquaintance. I can’t seem to find him.”
The woman nodded softly, humming to herself as she turned to her stall for a moment and reached behind it for a small velvet bag. She hobbled back over to him, taking his hand and placing it in his palm. “But I have no money…”
She laughed at him again, and this time it sounded familiar somehow. “No, child, this is a special gift. You’ll know what to do with it.”
Grey shook his head in confusion, turning to leave. “Thank you.” And he walked away.
“It’s nothing, child. May that mark let you prevail at last.”
She waved, turning the wrong way to see him off, and he realized in complete shock-she’d been blind the entire time! Shaking his head in disbelief, he headed off toward the more populated stalls, was shot some looks, but decided to get his mind off of that and look inside the velvet bag, soft in his ungloved hands. He pulled at the tiny gold tassel and shook out the object inside.
His light eyebrow rose. It was a necklace. Albeit, a beautiful, exotically lovely jade necklace he’d only seen glinting on the necks of Xinshounan women. The jade, surprisingly was a similar color to that of Vallak’s eyes. Grey smiled, knowing now what kind of grudging gift he would bestow upon his companion. He could imagine it already-adorned around his tan neck, sparkling. He ran his fingers over the details, simple but they looked meaningful. Every few beads or so, in a pattern, an animal’s teeth lined the necklace, and in the middle was a down turned triangle, cut open in its middle, pointing down to the chest.
He sat down on a bench, admiring the mysterious necklace. He wondered to himself what the necklace meant. It occurred to him that he didn’t even know the first thing about Vallak’s religion; an unsettling fact indeed, when he looked back on pitying the Bainirs. How could you pity people you couldn’t understand? Wasn’t that a disservice to them? But…their culture was so-deep, and puzzling. It was like they actually knew more than his own people, despite them going to school, being scholars…
Turning it in his hands, he felt the chill of the seat at his back through the foolishly light cardigan he’d brought. Children ran past him laughing, and again, a pang of jealousy ran through him. He’d never been able to have fun in his childhood, not real fun that you spend with benevolent parents at the park or climbing trees with friends. His grip on the necklace tightened unconsciously, knuckles whitening.
“What’s that you’ve got there?” A voice said, figure leaning over the back of the bench.
Grey started, hiding the necklace and bag behind his back as Vallak jumped over the back of the bench rather than walking around the side to sit down beside him. “Anything wrong?” He asked, reminded of the expression on the boy’s face just before he’d startled him.
“Nothing.” Grey snipped, end of discussion. “How’s the celebration going?”
Vallak stood, not really someone to be in one place for much of a while. He held out his hand to him, “C’mon, I’ve got something to show you.” Grey looked up at him, blinking, “What?” Vallak clicked his tongue, grabbing Grey’s wrist and pulling him up, “You’ll like it, trust me.”
Grey discreetly slid the baggie into his cardigan and followed Vallak, squeezing through the crowd, coming to a stop at a very popular stall where people crowded around, shouting in Vallak’s strange, guttural language, laughing boisterously about something.
And the smell…there was this delicious smell coming from the stall where the steam rose from in pots, a greatly spiced smell, dried spices that made his mouth and eyes water. It was strong, and assuming, so was the taste of the food. Vallak ordered a plate, spitting out a couple of words he didn’t understand. The man looked to Grey, smiled strangely and then gave him the plate of some kind of glazed, spiced meat.
It was reddish, with thick sauce that gave off a strong, spicy scent. It seemed all a bit suspicious to him.
Grey looked up at Vallak who held the plate to him. “Don’t you need to pay for that?”
Shaking his head, he grinned, “No! That’s another great part of this; everything is free during the festival. It’s a tradition to treat you’re all your friends (who are all your people) to your skills. If you can cook, feed people, if you can sew, make clothes, if you can sing, perform-get what I mean?”
Grey blinked, nodding. It seemed nice, being part of such a rich culture. It made him…sort of jealous-but he’d never admit it. He reached tentatively for a piece of the mysterious food and a Bainir girl sitting at the stall piped up “You’re going to let that white-skin try Kura’kae?!” The people at the stall snickered, keeping their mouths shut. Vallak turned to wink at the girl without Grey seeing. She nodded, getting what his plans were.
The blond gave Vallak an apprehensive look, lifting the meat to his lips. Vallak nodded to him, urging him on. “You’ll like it, try it.”
Biting it, Grey chewed it for a moment, contemplating the taste. It was tangy and sweet, it was some kind of fowl, for sure. It was good, very good-until it hit the back of his throat. Grey coughed loudly, grabbing Vallak’s arm in distress.
It burned! It was so spicy he felt like his tongue and throat had caught fire. It burned at his taste buds and made it hard to breathe. His cheeks went flushed and his eyes watered in pain. The whole booth burst into uproarious laughter, at Grey’s reaction.
“Thank Somoas he didn’t die!” Someone managed between side-splitting laughter.
Vallak was leaning over on his knees, laughing as Grey coughed, rubbing at his tongue to try to make the burning stop. When he finally regained some semblance of composure, he asked, breathlessly, “W-what is that?!” He pointed accusingly at the plate. The darker boy lifted the pate in acknowledgement. “Hm? This is Kura’kae, one of our Bainir specialties.” Many muttered in agreement around him, and he continued, “It’s the meat of the sand sparrow, ‘ts this big-“ He held his hands apart about six inches apart.
“-Grilled and glazed in a hot secret sauce with spices that you can only find in our country.”
Fair eyebrows rose as Vallak nonchalantly popped one in his mouth, chewing it as his cheeks warmed pleasantly. The stall owner passed around thick, wooden mugs with a brown sort of liquid in it. He spoke to him, “This is to wash it down when you’re done. It’s called Kvass. It’s made of preserved bread and yeast.”
Grey snatched it quickly with a thank you, looking into the mug. He took a sip to quell his tongue and was pleasantly surprised. Not only did the two tastes go well together, but the taste of this ‘Kvass’ was pleasing itself. It resembled a watered-down lager, but more rich in taste, sort of salty, with a dash of wheaty taste.
Nearby, a fiddle began to play, and tambourines jingled, people piped up and shouted requests as crowds moved around and by. Grey lifted his head to the sound, and then back down to gaze at his fingers sadly. Again, behind his eyelids, flashes of violence and the agony on not being able to play haunted him. Vallak gave him a searching look for a moment, eyes passing over him as if trying to read an inscripted text. He stood and pulled Grey from his seat, “Let’s go, then.”
“Huh?” He asked, confused as he usually was now, quickly putting his mug down. People around them smirked.
Dragging him to the performers, Vallak smiled and asked them: “This boy can play very well; I’ve been hoping to hear him for a time now, if you’d be so kind…”
Grey opened his mouth to protest he could not understand what the two were saying when the other barked back: “What does the White-Skin want? He doesn’t belong here!”
He gestured to Grey with a nasty jerk of his chin. Some murmured in agreement. Shooting a nervous glance up at Vallak, who still held his arm, the dark one shook his head reassuringly “He wants to celebrate with us, brother, to give us the gift of his gift this night. Is that so wrong?”
The man broke out into an amused smile, getting up from his crouch and walked over, looking testily down at Grey. He wanted to shrink away, but Vallak held him tight. His smile broke wider on his wrinkled, bearded face, “Kara kukinjala gama utinla; ‘bestow us with your gift’, then.” He handed over fiddle reverently into Grey’s hands, and he could feel the worn wood, most likely lovingly handcrafted by the man himself, used so much it probably had its own heartbeat. He could feel all the love, memories and work laid into the very grains of unstained wood and felt his heart swell with inspiration.
These people had nothing but their hands and each other. They were simple yet complex, brash yet gentle and wise.
“Come on boy!” An old woman wrapped up in many cloths urged. Waves of sound came from the people around. He stepped away from the man and Vallak, but looked back at him, nervous. Vallak gave him the most reassuring smile he’d ever seen. “Go ahead, keep your promise.”
With a shuddering breath, he closed his eyes, and let the notes compose themselves all over again in his mind, swimming up to the shores of his thoughts in currents. He wrapped his fingers around the bow, the neck and took another breath before touching the strings.
He let the thick song drift from the fiddle, he scraped, pinched, plucked, let the music flow from him, he swayed with it, and faintly, he heard the rest of the performers join in, tambourines and drums. People started to dance and he felt a smile form onto his lips, heart singing with the notes and feeling of freedom. He could play again! Cries rang from the crowd, happy calls, hoots and shouts.
The song was one from his grandfather, who’d once been a poor peasant on the streets of Vianable. Someone who had made a name for himself; gained all of his riches. It was a peasant song, a song that made the fiddle sing of the happiness of being one without much, and though hard work made jewels. Thinking about it, he remembered his grandfather dimly, a strong, tall man with a long white beard and a shiny bald head. He’d played the violin and fiddle so well and lovingly, that he taught Grey his knowledge of them in the years that he was still alive. The only man who had ever loved him or cared.
He stepped, as he played, winding into a circle as he rested his head gratefully against the rest of the fiddle, fingers dancing over the neck strings, swinging the bow in arcs across the middle. Chest heaving he felt the life around him as the music twisted everyone in the wild music, mixture between Vianable peasant music and a tribal beat. Whoops sounded from the performers and he let his body swing and dance to the music, feeling perspiration run down his temple. Colors swirled behind his eyelids, sounds swarmed his ears.
The drums stopped, people cheered him and he stopped, opening his eyes, gasping for breath. He turned to look around him for Vallak, saw people looking at him. They started to shout praise, either in their language or his. He found his companion grinning wildly at him, walking over.
The blond grudgingly returned the fiddle to its rightful owner, who all but beamed at him.
“The light boy has pleased the Gods themselves!” One shouted.
“A gift to us all!”
“Good work there, Grey.” Vallak murmured down to him, placing a warm hand on his back. “More festivities? It seems you’re the life of the party now.” He chuckled, people tugged at their sleeves, offering drinks.
“I’m actually very weary, you see…”
“Ah.” He nodded, moving and weaving them back through the crowd, changing their direction to Grey’s home. “Shall we go, then?” Grey agreed tiredly.
On their walk home, they passed by loud homes and merriment, lit up houses and decorations littering the trees and shrubs. Choruses sang from the windows many holy hymns and candles melted down the windowsills. Candle-flame colored snow fell in spirals from the milky-dark sky. Undecorated trees stood stark black against the scenery.
Close to each other for warmth against the cold night they walked, and Vallak surmised it must be at least midnight already. Winter Solstice was over. After a while, they reached Grey’s doorstep and the windows glowered dark out at him. Out of the dark, Vallak’s eyes shone bright green. “Off to bed with you, baebe.” He made a move to push him towards the door but stopped himself, “Ah! I almost forgot, now.” He held up a finger and fished around in his jacket’s pocket, producing a small box with a small ribbon, stark red against the whiteness. “Happy Hodisman.” He smirked at the blonde’s expression.
Grey, embarrassed, untied the bow, and peered inside the box, “What is…?” He pulled the item from its box, holding it in his fingers, observing it warily. “It’s a bracelet.” Vallak answered simply. “Put it on.”
He complied, sliding it onto his small wrist. It was a tad too big, and cold from being inside the box. To tell the truth, it was also a bit frightening. The darker boy took his wrist, admiring it on his hand, smiling. “It’s a protective charm, you see.” He fingered the hanging feather, a lovely blackish brown with a white fuzz. “This is a Desert Eagle’s feather, very rare. Had to haggle the vendor for a time.” Grey marveled at the design of the thing, teeth of some animal lining his pale wrist. “That’s coyote teeth.” Vallak explained.
“More like the whole jaw.” Grey amended with a returned smile. He looked up, “It’s beautiful, thank you.” Then, he reached into his pocket and took the velvet pouch out. “I…uh, got you a present as well.” He stuttered, grudgingly giving him the gift. “I couldn’t find anything else, so…”
Vallak eyed the gift and then him with a laughing look twinkling in his clever eyes, and then took it, shaking the present out deftly. He took in a quick breath. “Grey…” Dark eyebrows furrowed, the boy didn’t know the purpose or meaning of the necklace, did he? This necklace….this necklace was special.
“What’s wrong?” He asked nervously, with a probing look.
“Nothing.” He grinned, meeting his gaze. “It’s perfect.” Leaning in, he placed his hand on the back of Grey’s cold head and kissed him on the forehead, surprising the boy. “Happy Hodisman, then Grey.” He stepped back, catching the boy’s cheeks flame with color.
“What did you…?!”
“What?” Vallak asked, confused as to what he had done now.
“You don’t kiss other men!” Grey stormed, as Vallak laughed at him, “Sorry princess, you’re going to have to get used to it, Bainirs do so to their brothers all the time. Love thy brother, they say.”
He started to walk off down the street, clutching the gift from Grey, but stopped. “By the way…” He began, not turning. He looked up the darkness of Dutch Hill looming above him, warily eyeing his slippery journey up.
“What?” he called, looking back at Vallak from opening his door.
“You’re welcome.” And with that, he was up the hill, and gone.
Grey sighed and went inside. “Thank you.” He muttered.
The next morning, the sun actually decided to shine.
And shine it did, right through the curtains of his room, brightness intensified off the feet of snow outside. Groaning, nose twitching, the blonde awoke in his room that morning. Looking at the ceiling, he shot up into sitting on his bed, panic rising in his throat.
Had all of that been a dream?!
Racing out his door, he stumbled over present boxes, looking around for a clue to tell him that last night had been real. Faintly, he just caught the glint of the sun off something on his wrist. Looking down, he saw it. The bracelet.
And he smiled.
“Happy Hodisman then, Grey.”
*****************
Tell Me what you think, then.
Chapter: 6
Genere: Action/Adventure, shounen-ai, Original
Summary: Hodisman is finally upon us! (I should have gotten this to you guys on Christmas, but oh Hell.) The boys celebrate it together. Fluffiness! Gifts! Amusement! Chaos!
Warnings: PG. My only warning is for the Fluffiness...oh the fluffiness.
Chapter 6
…Winter Solstice, where Somoas would hold his yearly festival of lights. Where they would drink so much and rejoice that their mead and heavenly wine would fall from the sky onto all of Kiang…
Snow had quickly covered the city of Vianable in the short amount of time that it had started. Surprised as he was looking at his companion, Vallak couldn’t help but hate the frozen wonders. He marveled at them at first, when he first came here-but he grew to dislike the coldness of them, rather than the warm sun beating down on his back. He wasn’t a snow or cold kind of person, he-and always would-belonged in the desert.
But Grey…Well, he belonged out there in the snow. Somehow the freezing cold around his heart matched with how cold it was outside. But the sight of him in the snow, endlessly spinning would later never to fail to haunt his dreams now and then. Like an angel…He thought with a smile, thinking back upon that time.
Grey’s eyelashes had beautifully caught the snowflakes, and his lips and cheeks had turned this lovely hue of pink but slightly blue. It had been a while since they’d found each other in the freezing cold. He’d looked up where the snowflakes spiraled out of the sky to him; gray eyes now a frozen blue of deep, deep water. He threw his arms out and spun around in his spot in the empty lot, matting down a circle of snow.
Vallak had simply stopped and looked on, a gentle smile on his face. “Why are you doing that?” He said it quietly. No one else was outside anymore.
Grey didn’t stop spinning to look at him, he just stared up at the sky where the snow spiraled down to him. “I used to do this when I was little.” He said, barely audible over the slight howl of the winter wind. A slight pause and a barely visible tremble in his frame, and then he continued, “…I…used to wish that the sky would swallow me up.”
The darker boy jerked in surprise. He hadn’t known Grey to house such dark thoughts. But at that time, he hadn’t been close enough to his heart to tackle them. So instead, he tried to shoo them away to the deeper recesses of Grey’s heart, where he could hunt them later, rip them from his very existence. “Grey! Come on, you have to get home, you’re all blue.” He smiled a little. “How unrefined!” He teased in a high pitched voice he’d dubbed as the ‘Grey Voice.’
Grey just looked at him for a moment through the snow, batting his eyelashes, his bangs moving slightly over as he turned his head to uncover his face a little more. Vallak blinked, taken aback by the sudden beauty in front of him. He held out his one gloved hand-to touch something lovely--to reach to him but Grey turned and started to walk to the street “It is cold.” He murmured.
“Ah…” Vallak deflated, shoulders slumping. Oh well, maybe next time.
***
Back at home, everything reverted back to normal. It seemed just like any year, with his mother running around with her already tiered maids looking for dresses and his father off somewhere in the library catching up on his reading for dinner conversations.
Sitting in the large family room with the high, lofty ceiling, he tilted his head back against the worn but plush leather chair to stare up at it. The woodwork seemed to swim before his eyes in flour de leis and carved vines.
Everything seemed back to normal. Except the excitement he felt in his heart for the first time in many, many years. This year, he hoped would be different. Closing his eyes, he imagined the snow back around him, floating passively and circling out of the sky. Clinging to Vallak’s coal black hair in stark contrast, like stars in an inky black sky.
He smiled and compulsively checked back to his fingers. They were so different, Vallak and him. How was it possible that they’d lasted being around each other this long without being caught? Surely the ruse would have been seen through by now, but his parents remained blissfully ignorant to the real reason he’d come home beaten that day.
Wincing, flashes of that day seared images to the back of his eyes. It seemed like he’d never be able to forget. His head lolled sleepily to the side of the chair’s headrest, snippets of his parent’s conversation floating to his ears.
Brief spoken words, unimportant in their matter, gossiping like his mother was known for.
“…Oh my, David, doesn’t it seem frightening?”
“I suppose it does unnerve.”
“Yes dear, they say he’s coming to Vianable, too! That Mamoraoth, The Black Hand.”
“Oh that’s just talk, Lauraline. Don’t you worry about such rot as such.”
Grey rolled his eyes from his mother’s unreasonable scared and rushed voice. She made things such big deals. What rubbish. Such legends as the Bandit King didn’t exist. He tapped his fingers against the dark brown leather and counted until they left the house for the night, without such as a good bye or a kiss. Grey had just assumed they’d forgotten all together they even had a son.
He heard shuffling on the carpets and his eyes snapped open. He hadn’t even known he’d even closed them. Disappointedly-though he would not admit it-he saw one the household’s maids before him. Her name was Belle, and she had lovely blonde curls and pretty blue eyes; she’d been shipped in from the country up north called Berggebiet. She’d come when her father had visited her country and spotted her working at an inn, he’d said. Grey was sure his father had seen more than a maid in her.
“Yes, what is it Belle?” He answered wearily; thinking about affairs made his head spin.
“Young master, I…came to say that all the servants have left for the holidays. I came to wish you a Happy Hodisman.” She reached into the pocket of her apron and produced a small red envelope. “I want you to have this before I leave.” She said meekly.
He accepted it, a bit surprised, and nodded his thanks. She began to leave but lingered at the door strangely. “Don’t open it until I leave, alright sir?”
Grey’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion but nodded anyway, watching her retreat until she closed the front door behind her with a soft slam. Looking at the package in his hands for a moment, he opened it, and inside he found a letter, two short pages of parchment with scribblish penmanship. Obviously stolen scraps from the master’s desk. He was surprised she even knew how to read and write. As he opened it up, the head of a slightly withered plant fell from the folds. Confused, he picked it up and studied it. It was a sprig of fragrant but withered green sweet basil, from what memory served him. Shaking his head, he opened up the letter to read it. Scrawled on the letter it read:
Young Master,
I wished for you to be the one to know that I am running away. I am going back to my little village in Berggebiet. You see, I have a fiancé that I love very much back at home. We were to be married before the master sent for me in Vianable. Homesickness tugs at me painfully, and I can no longer stay. I am sorry for leaving you alone like this, but I hope you can make good friends and become a strong person, this is goodbye young master.
Surprised he read this, as someone strolled in from the direction of the kitchen and pantry. “Whoo! Goo’ thing I didn’t have to look for you in this house! But really, you shouldn’t leave your pantry door open like that.”
Grey looked up from the letter, unexplainable relief washing over his features briefly. Vallak had really kept his word! He sat there, staring in disbelief. “Well, you going to sit and stare or are we getting to the festivities?” Vallak smirked, moving a sweeping arm back to the kitchen. “Oh, hey, what’s that you’ve got there?” He pointed to the letter in one hand and the head of the plant in the other.
Grey shook his head, holding out the sprig, “What is this supposed to mean? It came in a letter.”
Vallak reached out curiously, taking the herb gently, studying it before sniffing it and recognizing the minty scent. He gave him an intrigued look, grinning, “It says…best wishes.” He answered.
“Ah.” The blonde nodded, moving past the darker boy, into the kitchen, looking around for the roast left for him.
“Who left their best wishes?” Vallak asked; interest piqued.
Grey moved the cloth cover off of a pot to discover the small roast, frowning. Maybe there wasn’t enough here for the both of them. Vallak moved to stand behind him, forgetting all thoughts of the letter and herb found within when the sight to food came around.
“Who is that scrumptious thing for?” He said, practically drooling, fingers straying toward the pot.
Slapping his fingers away, Grey scowled. “Us, you idiot. It’s what you do on Hodisman, you eat yourself sick and exchange gifts and feel thankful for it all.”
An eyebrow raised, he looked down at the blonde, “Wow, you seem to have really gotten the spirit down with that tone of voice.” Grey huffed in response, moving the roast to the overly large dining room as he forced two china plates into Vallak’s chest, and set it all on the table.
Deciding it would be simply a riot, Vallak decided to set his place on the opposite side of Grey’s seat; the opposite seat at the end of an eighteen seated table.
“Grey! Pass the roast, I want another piece!” He called up the table to the blonde, who was glowering at the piece in his plate. “What?! I’m not going to serve it to you, come and get it yourself.” He retorted, stabbing the slice of meat in his plate violently with his fork.
“I said pass it, you girl, I’m not going all the way up there!”
“What?!” He roared in a less-than manly way, “Alright, fine!” he shoved the pot hard down the long, mahogany table, and it flew with surprising ease down the wood, making an unsightly scraping noise. He was sure the table was damaged, but he didn’t rightly care, the whole matter was too funny to worry about furniture.
Soon, it turned into a riotous game, shoving up and down the table, the poor roast, juices splashing over the rim of the pot. Screech, screech, push, push. Laughter filled the room. Finally, Grey felt outmatched and shoved the pot particularly hard.
The pot came flying into Vallak’s chest, and then over his head and splattering all over the wall behind him. Vallak being Vallak collapsed out of his chair in uproarious, hysterical laughter that slid in easy, deep peals making Grey crack up and slump in his chair from lack of air.
Finally when the fit of laughter ended, they both realized that their meal was ruined, and possibly the wall and carpets.
Grey sighed heavily, “What a disaster, what will we do now?”
The chair scrapped the floor as Vallak suddenly stood up, a bright look on his clever face, alight with an idea. Later on in their friendship, Grey would have learned to dread the times that that look crossed his companion’s face…
***
It took tooth and nail to drag Grey into this place, but it was well worth it to see his expression when he saw the Bainir slums of Vianable lit up like a church on Hodisman. Not only that, but people littered the streets everywhere, merry, exotic music flowed through the streets as snow on the ground lye in colored patches and designs. Everywhere, food was served and the smell permeated every nook and cranny with the scent of foreign desert spices.
Grey blinked in wonder, head craning to look around everywhere at once. “Why is everyone outside instead of inside? I thought your people didn’t celebrate Hodisman.”
Vallak grinned, placing a hand on Grey’s shoulder to stop him as a noisy cart came tumbling by. “We don’t.” He said simply, “We celebrate a little thing called winter solstice.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, it’s sort of like the last big hurrah before we have to move on to the second season area.” He saw that Grey was confused, laughing he frustratedly rubbed the back of his head, “Well, you see, we have two seasons in Balalbirru-first is the dry season, where we have no rain at all, and then the rainy season, where we have some rain, at least enough to fill the bottom of long dried-up lakes. Winter solstice is the rainy season, ‘winter’ is the closest translation to the word for our season. So before winter starts,” He gestured around him, “We throw a large celebration in hope of a good rain and the season to go without severe drought. We praise the Gods in hope of a blessing of rain.”
Grey nodded, looking around, with a slight smile, “I guess I sort of see that.” He shook his head in wonder, “I never guessed there’d be another holiday that fell around the same time around Hodisman. I don’t know…I just guessed everyone else in the world celebrated it.” He shrugged sheepishly.
Vallak lent him a slight smile, “It’s hard seeing through someone else’s eyes, isn’t it?” He shook his head to banish the thought, “Never mind it though, let’s celebrate the eve of our friendship, shall we?”
Grey tugged out of his grasp suddenly irritated “We’re not friends.” He muttered, looking down.
A sigh, and then he proceeded to keep his distance, wincing. He had to be more careful with his words, but still, this was Vallak. Vallak would be Vallak. “Then…let’s just look around, hmm?”
“Fine.” Was his only answer. Vallak felt terrible; what exactly did he do wrong? The boy wanted friends, right? Why wouldn’t he let anyone in?
“Just-try not to get in trouble, alright?”
A snide chuckle, “I should be saying that.”
Vallak gave him a look with a serious eye, “Remember this isn’t your house is all, alright?”
Confusion plastered Grey’s face as he watched the darker boy disappear within the boisterous crowd of all dark-skinned people. He suddenly realized, looking around him, he was the only light-skinned person around. Anxiety shot through his blood. What if they told him to leave? He wondered how he hadn’t noticed before Vallak left-this strong sense of not belonging…like ruining someone else’s party, coming uninvited. He walked around, begging for the ground to swallow him up for a second time.
He wouldn’t admit to himself or anyone else that he needed someone else’s help on this. That would make him weak like his father said he always was, more weak than he already knew he was. His gray eyes passed over colorful splashes of designs, stalls of all kinds, and performers in jolly songs. People all over knew what they were doing, having fun, being with each other…
Lost in his thoughts, he carelessly bumped into a small, forgotten stall on the corner of a street. “Oh! I apologize!” He said quickly, turning to an old Bainir woman with hair as white as snow and skin the color and texture of prunes righted herself, smiling at him. “Oh, that’ssss alright, young sirrr.” Her accent was rough, and it was quite hard to understand it, but he leant down, picking up her heavy shawl in apology.
She ran her hands over his gently, studying him intently, then accepting the shawl, “I don’t see many white skins around here, you know. What are you doing out on a night like this, child?”
Grey was taken aback by the question. “Well I-“ His shoulders slumped, shaking his head. Who lied to an old woman? “…I don’t know.”
She laughed heartily, patting his hand with a dried, wrinkled one of her own, and her many bangles jingled merrily. “Have you lost yourself, boy?” Her beady, bluish-white eyes stared up at him with so much penetration that Grey physically jerked back, as if scalded. “N-no I…I just lost a f-“ he righted himself quickly, “-An acquaintance. I can’t seem to find him.”
The woman nodded softly, humming to herself as she turned to her stall for a moment and reached behind it for a small velvet bag. She hobbled back over to him, taking his hand and placing it in his palm. “But I have no money…”
She laughed at him again, and this time it sounded familiar somehow. “No, child, this is a special gift. You’ll know what to do with it.”
Grey shook his head in confusion, turning to leave. “Thank you.” And he walked away.
“It’s nothing, child. May that mark let you prevail at last.”
She waved, turning the wrong way to see him off, and he realized in complete shock-she’d been blind the entire time! Shaking his head in disbelief, he headed off toward the more populated stalls, was shot some looks, but decided to get his mind off of that and look inside the velvet bag, soft in his ungloved hands. He pulled at the tiny gold tassel and shook out the object inside.
His light eyebrow rose. It was a necklace. Albeit, a beautiful, exotically lovely jade necklace he’d only seen glinting on the necks of Xinshounan women. The jade, surprisingly was a similar color to that of Vallak’s eyes. Grey smiled, knowing now what kind of grudging gift he would bestow upon his companion. He could imagine it already-adorned around his tan neck, sparkling. He ran his fingers over the details, simple but they looked meaningful. Every few beads or so, in a pattern, an animal’s teeth lined the necklace, and in the middle was a down turned triangle, cut open in its middle, pointing down to the chest.
He sat down on a bench, admiring the mysterious necklace. He wondered to himself what the necklace meant. It occurred to him that he didn’t even know the first thing about Vallak’s religion; an unsettling fact indeed, when he looked back on pitying the Bainirs. How could you pity people you couldn’t understand? Wasn’t that a disservice to them? But…their culture was so-deep, and puzzling. It was like they actually knew more than his own people, despite them going to school, being scholars…
Turning it in his hands, he felt the chill of the seat at his back through the foolishly light cardigan he’d brought. Children ran past him laughing, and again, a pang of jealousy ran through him. He’d never been able to have fun in his childhood, not real fun that you spend with benevolent parents at the park or climbing trees with friends. His grip on the necklace tightened unconsciously, knuckles whitening.
“What’s that you’ve got there?” A voice said, figure leaning over the back of the bench.
Grey started, hiding the necklace and bag behind his back as Vallak jumped over the back of the bench rather than walking around the side to sit down beside him. “Anything wrong?” He asked, reminded of the expression on the boy’s face just before he’d startled him.
“Nothing.” Grey snipped, end of discussion. “How’s the celebration going?”
Vallak stood, not really someone to be in one place for much of a while. He held out his hand to him, “C’mon, I’ve got something to show you.” Grey looked up at him, blinking, “What?” Vallak clicked his tongue, grabbing Grey’s wrist and pulling him up, “You’ll like it, trust me.”
Grey discreetly slid the baggie into his cardigan and followed Vallak, squeezing through the crowd, coming to a stop at a very popular stall where people crowded around, shouting in Vallak’s strange, guttural language, laughing boisterously about something.
And the smell…there was this delicious smell coming from the stall where the steam rose from in pots, a greatly spiced smell, dried spices that made his mouth and eyes water. It was strong, and assuming, so was the taste of the food. Vallak ordered a plate, spitting out a couple of words he didn’t understand. The man looked to Grey, smiled strangely and then gave him the plate of some kind of glazed, spiced meat.
It was reddish, with thick sauce that gave off a strong, spicy scent. It seemed all a bit suspicious to him.
Grey looked up at Vallak who held the plate to him. “Don’t you need to pay for that?”
Shaking his head, he grinned, “No! That’s another great part of this; everything is free during the festival. It’s a tradition to treat you’re all your friends (who are all your people) to your skills. If you can cook, feed people, if you can sew, make clothes, if you can sing, perform-get what I mean?”
Grey blinked, nodding. It seemed nice, being part of such a rich culture. It made him…sort of jealous-but he’d never admit it. He reached tentatively for a piece of the mysterious food and a Bainir girl sitting at the stall piped up “You’re going to let that white-skin try Kura’kae?!” The people at the stall snickered, keeping their mouths shut. Vallak turned to wink at the girl without Grey seeing. She nodded, getting what his plans were.
The blond gave Vallak an apprehensive look, lifting the meat to his lips. Vallak nodded to him, urging him on. “You’ll like it, try it.”
Biting it, Grey chewed it for a moment, contemplating the taste. It was tangy and sweet, it was some kind of fowl, for sure. It was good, very good-until it hit the back of his throat. Grey coughed loudly, grabbing Vallak’s arm in distress.
It burned! It was so spicy he felt like his tongue and throat had caught fire. It burned at his taste buds and made it hard to breathe. His cheeks went flushed and his eyes watered in pain. The whole booth burst into uproarious laughter, at Grey’s reaction.
“Thank Somoas he didn’t die!” Someone managed between side-splitting laughter.
Vallak was leaning over on his knees, laughing as Grey coughed, rubbing at his tongue to try to make the burning stop. When he finally regained some semblance of composure, he asked, breathlessly, “W-what is that?!” He pointed accusingly at the plate. The darker boy lifted the pate in acknowledgement. “Hm? This is Kura’kae, one of our Bainir specialties.” Many muttered in agreement around him, and he continued, “It’s the meat of the sand sparrow, ‘ts this big-“ He held his hands apart about six inches apart.
“-Grilled and glazed in a hot secret sauce with spices that you can only find in our country.”
Fair eyebrows rose as Vallak nonchalantly popped one in his mouth, chewing it as his cheeks warmed pleasantly. The stall owner passed around thick, wooden mugs with a brown sort of liquid in it. He spoke to him, “This is to wash it down when you’re done. It’s called Kvass. It’s made of preserved bread and yeast.”
Grey snatched it quickly with a thank you, looking into the mug. He took a sip to quell his tongue and was pleasantly surprised. Not only did the two tastes go well together, but the taste of this ‘Kvass’ was pleasing itself. It resembled a watered-down lager, but more rich in taste, sort of salty, with a dash of wheaty taste.
Nearby, a fiddle began to play, and tambourines jingled, people piped up and shouted requests as crowds moved around and by. Grey lifted his head to the sound, and then back down to gaze at his fingers sadly. Again, behind his eyelids, flashes of violence and the agony on not being able to play haunted him. Vallak gave him a searching look for a moment, eyes passing over him as if trying to read an inscripted text. He stood and pulled Grey from his seat, “Let’s go, then.”
“Huh?” He asked, confused as he usually was now, quickly putting his mug down. People around them smirked.
Dragging him to the performers, Vallak smiled and asked them: “This boy can play very well; I’ve been hoping to hear him for a time now, if you’d be so kind…”
Grey opened his mouth to protest he could not understand what the two were saying when the other barked back: “What does the White-Skin want? He doesn’t belong here!”
He gestured to Grey with a nasty jerk of his chin. Some murmured in agreement. Shooting a nervous glance up at Vallak, who still held his arm, the dark one shook his head reassuringly “He wants to celebrate with us, brother, to give us the gift of his gift this night. Is that so wrong?”
The man broke out into an amused smile, getting up from his crouch and walked over, looking testily down at Grey. He wanted to shrink away, but Vallak held him tight. His smile broke wider on his wrinkled, bearded face, “Kara kukinjala gama utinla; ‘bestow us with your gift’, then.” He handed over fiddle reverently into Grey’s hands, and he could feel the worn wood, most likely lovingly handcrafted by the man himself, used so much it probably had its own heartbeat. He could feel all the love, memories and work laid into the very grains of unstained wood and felt his heart swell with inspiration.
These people had nothing but their hands and each other. They were simple yet complex, brash yet gentle and wise.
“Come on boy!” An old woman wrapped up in many cloths urged. Waves of sound came from the people around. He stepped away from the man and Vallak, but looked back at him, nervous. Vallak gave him the most reassuring smile he’d ever seen. “Go ahead, keep your promise.”
With a shuddering breath, he closed his eyes, and let the notes compose themselves all over again in his mind, swimming up to the shores of his thoughts in currents. He wrapped his fingers around the bow, the neck and took another breath before touching the strings.
He let the thick song drift from the fiddle, he scraped, pinched, plucked, let the music flow from him, he swayed with it, and faintly, he heard the rest of the performers join in, tambourines and drums. People started to dance and he felt a smile form onto his lips, heart singing with the notes and feeling of freedom. He could play again! Cries rang from the crowd, happy calls, hoots and shouts.
The song was one from his grandfather, who’d once been a poor peasant on the streets of Vianable. Someone who had made a name for himself; gained all of his riches. It was a peasant song, a song that made the fiddle sing of the happiness of being one without much, and though hard work made jewels. Thinking about it, he remembered his grandfather dimly, a strong, tall man with a long white beard and a shiny bald head. He’d played the violin and fiddle so well and lovingly, that he taught Grey his knowledge of them in the years that he was still alive. The only man who had ever loved him or cared.
He stepped, as he played, winding into a circle as he rested his head gratefully against the rest of the fiddle, fingers dancing over the neck strings, swinging the bow in arcs across the middle. Chest heaving he felt the life around him as the music twisted everyone in the wild music, mixture between Vianable peasant music and a tribal beat. Whoops sounded from the performers and he let his body swing and dance to the music, feeling perspiration run down his temple. Colors swirled behind his eyelids, sounds swarmed his ears.
The drums stopped, people cheered him and he stopped, opening his eyes, gasping for breath. He turned to look around him for Vallak, saw people looking at him. They started to shout praise, either in their language or his. He found his companion grinning wildly at him, walking over.
The blond grudgingly returned the fiddle to its rightful owner, who all but beamed at him.
“The light boy has pleased the Gods themselves!” One shouted.
“A gift to us all!”
“Good work there, Grey.” Vallak murmured down to him, placing a warm hand on his back. “More festivities? It seems you’re the life of the party now.” He chuckled, people tugged at their sleeves, offering drinks.
“I’m actually very weary, you see…”
“Ah.” He nodded, moving and weaving them back through the crowd, changing their direction to Grey’s home. “Shall we go, then?” Grey agreed tiredly.
On their walk home, they passed by loud homes and merriment, lit up houses and decorations littering the trees and shrubs. Choruses sang from the windows many holy hymns and candles melted down the windowsills. Candle-flame colored snow fell in spirals from the milky-dark sky. Undecorated trees stood stark black against the scenery.
Close to each other for warmth against the cold night they walked, and Vallak surmised it must be at least midnight already. Winter Solstice was over. After a while, they reached Grey’s doorstep and the windows glowered dark out at him. Out of the dark, Vallak’s eyes shone bright green. “Off to bed with you, baebe.” He made a move to push him towards the door but stopped himself, “Ah! I almost forgot, now.” He held up a finger and fished around in his jacket’s pocket, producing a small box with a small ribbon, stark red against the whiteness. “Happy Hodisman.” He smirked at the blonde’s expression.
Grey, embarrassed, untied the bow, and peered inside the box, “What is…?” He pulled the item from its box, holding it in his fingers, observing it warily. “It’s a bracelet.” Vallak answered simply. “Put it on.”
He complied, sliding it onto his small wrist. It was a tad too big, and cold from being inside the box. To tell the truth, it was also a bit frightening. The darker boy took his wrist, admiring it on his hand, smiling. “It’s a protective charm, you see.” He fingered the hanging feather, a lovely blackish brown with a white fuzz. “This is a Desert Eagle’s feather, very rare. Had to haggle the vendor for a time.” Grey marveled at the design of the thing, teeth of some animal lining his pale wrist. “That’s coyote teeth.” Vallak explained.
“More like the whole jaw.” Grey amended with a returned smile. He looked up, “It’s beautiful, thank you.” Then, he reached into his pocket and took the velvet pouch out. “I…uh, got you a present as well.” He stuttered, grudgingly giving him the gift. “I couldn’t find anything else, so…”
Vallak eyed the gift and then him with a laughing look twinkling in his clever eyes, and then took it, shaking the present out deftly. He took in a quick breath. “Grey…” Dark eyebrows furrowed, the boy didn’t know the purpose or meaning of the necklace, did he? This necklace….this necklace was special.
“What’s wrong?” He asked nervously, with a probing look.
“Nothing.” He grinned, meeting his gaze. “It’s perfect.” Leaning in, he placed his hand on the back of Grey’s cold head and kissed him on the forehead, surprising the boy. “Happy Hodisman, then Grey.” He stepped back, catching the boy’s cheeks flame with color.
“What did you…?!”
“What?” Vallak asked, confused as to what he had done now.
“You don’t kiss other men!” Grey stormed, as Vallak laughed at him, “Sorry princess, you’re going to have to get used to it, Bainirs do so to their brothers all the time. Love thy brother, they say.”
He started to walk off down the street, clutching the gift from Grey, but stopped. “By the way…” He began, not turning. He looked up the darkness of Dutch Hill looming above him, warily eyeing his slippery journey up.
“What?” he called, looking back at Vallak from opening his door.
“You’re welcome.” And with that, he was up the hill, and gone.
Grey sighed and went inside. “Thank you.” He muttered.
The next morning, the sun actually decided to shine.
And shine it did, right through the curtains of his room, brightness intensified off the feet of snow outside. Groaning, nose twitching, the blonde awoke in his room that morning. Looking at the ceiling, he shot up into sitting on his bed, panic rising in his throat.
Had all of that been a dream?!
Racing out his door, he stumbled over present boxes, looking around for a clue to tell him that last night had been real. Faintly, he just caught the glint of the sun off something on his wrist. Looking down, he saw it. The bracelet.
And he smiled.
“Happy Hodisman then, Grey.”
*****************
Tell Me what you think, then.