Chan Eil - (negative) - Blog Posts

12. Love Language

Kidd - 6! | Killer - 9

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Kidd grew up speaking Gàidhlig

Killer understood som but didn't speak it often

Killer never knew Kidd's name

it's has been forgotten by now

there was coup in the area last summer/fall

Kidd used to have a family

they will come back up later

Kidd turns 6

they've known each other over a year by now

dropping in some Scottish traditions in because I can

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

The charm Killer had as a small child - the one that set adults at ease and gave him sympathy candies or coins - hadn't followed him into the reign of the newest City Boss. The men and woman who'd fed him if he gave them sad looks and batted his eye lashes were rotting in the bottom of the bay, and the ones who did give him a second glance these days had hands that lingered too long. Worse - those men seemed to want him to bring the kid around too and Killer would do a lot for a hot meal, but not at the kid's expense.

Killer had tried to do right by the kid - tried to take him to the adults for care, but no one wanted another little boy - another mouth to feed and still too small to do work in compensation. Killer knew that rejection intimately, tried not to let Eustass' sunshine boy see him crying hot bitter tears at the unfairness of the whole ordeal. The factories would scoop up the little girls, tuck them away in their brick boarding houses... but no one wanted the boys. Not until they were big enough and old enough to fight and bleed for them.

Killer had finally gotten big enough to belong to that, but with his last Boss and his men slaughtered, he had to keep his head down and stay quiet unless someone realized he was missed in the coup. This last turf war had him starting back over a square one again, only this time with the responsibility of someone else. And Killer couldn't bring himself to leave the boy behind; he'd been a part of the wooden port side of the city as long as he could remember. The dock men his only family, the innkeepers for the transients the only parental care he'd known. Eustass had been a hard-ass, but his old lady and the cook had regularly welcomed him in on cold and stormy nights, even when he didn't have a coin to his name. Even before he had a name!

Last winter, 10 days after First-Foot, Eustass himself had cornered Killer at the docks, handed him a soft ball wrapped in shiny paper, and told him under no uncertain terms was he to open it, and instead bring it to the Tavern right at sundown. At that point, Killer had been delivering all sorts of things he wasn't allowed to look at to all sorts of people he wasn't allow to talk to, and had held his free hand out demanding coin for the job. Eustass had smacked him upside the head and told him not to be greedy.

Well - Killer knew where to find the miserable old man if he didn't pay up in the end at least.

10 days into the new year, Killer entered Eustass' Tavern & Inn through the front door for the first time. Payday was 4 nights ago (9 more until the next one) and the Tavern was quiet, a sign posted on the door that he couldn't actually read - he wasn't a strong reader to start with, and it was far too long for him to puzzle out, but he did know that one of the words meant closed - which just confused him further. But Eustass had given him clear instructions, and the door had not been locked, so Killer let himself in.

He was expecting some kind of nefarious Boss meeting - he'd delivered to those quite a few times, Killer just didn't know Eustass was involved in that scene. Instead, he found the lights mostly dimmed, voices chatting away towards the kitchen.

Before he could call out, Mòr Mhàthair, the Matron of the business herself, peaked around the corner. He didn't think he'd ever seen someone brighten so much at seeing him of all people, and he turned to make sure someone else hadn't followed him in. No.. No the woman was smiling at him. She must have been waiting for the delivery.

"Wee barra!" she beckoned him over, and he dutifully held out the package once he reached her side. Instead, she'd gently corralled him in to where the staff and their children set up at a little table in the kitchen, "Chan eil, thoir dha a bhobain e."

Sunshine boy was sat at the place of honour, happily munching on black bun, a small stack of 6 shiny coins next to his plate. Killer looked back to the adults to make sure he was fulfilling the request correctly, surprised to see Eustass smirking at him from the back corner next to the oven. The old man nodded for him to go on, and Killer held out the wrapped package to the boy.

"Là breith sona dhuit!" Everyone chorused as the child tore into the paper, revealing small little stuffed toy of a boar. Killer froze, caught off guard as the words sunk in.

"Did Killer get you a little friend?" the cook asked, and the child held it up for all to see, a smile as bright as the sun across his face.

"Innis do Killer 'tapadh leibh.'" Eustass said, and the birthday boy turned to Killer with that thousand watt smile.

"Thank you Killer!"

Then they'd sat Killer down with the other children at the table of the birthday boy, fed him rich fruit cake and lamb cabbage rolls and when it had gotten late and time for all good boys to be in bed, the cook had tucked him already half asleep into one of the booths closest to the kitchen where the oven kept everything warm. He'd woken the next morning to fresh bread and a few coins for his trouble.

How could he ever abandon the kid after that, the only piece left to any of the good people who had the misfortune of being remembered by him alone.

First-Foot this year was more muted than Killer could ever remember; he'd always spend that night in the Heaps - he knew better than to risk someone's whole year on the likes of him - but there's always been such grandeur leading up to it. Festivals of fire and music and foot. Winter's were harsh, and everyone reveled in a chance to find some warmth and joy. But this last winter had been cold and grey and bitter. And no fanfare to banish the old in favor of new.

Still, dutifully, he counted the days - he'd always been very good at keeping track of things like that, and once the kid was set up on his little corner for begging, Killer slipped away. Usually, he stuck nearby, pilfering pockets. But he had a plan today that involved something else. He'd been skimping on the food he'd been buying for himself, trying to save up a few more coins for today especially.

Fruit might be expensive in the winter, but meat was in steady supply even if a lot was imported these days. Killer also knew for a fact that at least one tavern had gotten in some winter cabbage and he could easily get there and back before the kid missed him.

Days where short this time of year, and Killer got back just as the sun slipped behind the buildings and the temperatures started to drop. Little coin could be made this late - most people rushing to get home while any warmth remained, and Killer and the kid where no different. They picked their way quickly back to the hovel they had built for themselves in the Heaps this winter.

Once Killer - the larger of the two - crawled in, they drug the large scrap of sheet metal over the entrance until there was just enough room for the smaller boy to slip in. There was no one in the Heaps smaller than him and no one knew just how big the shelter was once inside, so they where left unbothered.

Killer moved a second smaller sheet over the gap from the inside as the kid carefully lit the little lamp they had. The piece would block the light and would help block the wind even if it was still quite drafty. "So where's you disappear to today?" the boy asked him, looking a little accusatory.

"Got a surprise for ya, Sunshine!" Killer help up the two packages he'd produced over the day. The first one was set out on their 'table,' freshly made and still hot cabbage rolls, stuffed with beef. More than enough to fill the stomach of any child.

The second was a little bag he tossed at his friend.

"I hate that name," the boy grumbled, even as he opened the little drawstring bag with a crudely stitched skull and crossbones on the outside. Seven coins spilled out on his palm, one for each year and another for luck. Killer had saved the cleanest newest coins he could find, and then buffed them to a brilliant shine - they'd be spent quickly, but in the mean time they shined like new.

"Sorry, Sorry, wont use it again," Regardless, Killer had grinned amiably through his apology, "Happy Birthday, kiddo."

The 6 year old marveled at the coins, before Killer's word caught up to him, "Tch! That's even worse than sunshine!"