No Rest For The Wicked [NaNo 2011]

Chapter Four - 1 - Lid On Your Pot

Chapter Four

-1-

-Lid On Your Pot-

            Chomeske woke with a jolt, just as the train came to a halt.  She was panicking, confused for a moment as of her location, and looking out of the window, she saw they had stopped at a train station to let more people onboard.

            “Hey Cho, you’re awake,” Caanan smiled from the seat across from her in their little compartment.  “You can go back to sleep,” he said.  “We’re not even close to the channel,” he waved it off.  “We won’t get to Lydsey until tomorrow afternoon at most.”

            It’s a long trip, Chomeske signed.  I already miss them, she bit her lip, resting her head against the window, looking outside at the platform, watching people get off and board their trains.

            Chomeske looked up at the trunk in the overhead compartment that Gauche had presented her with.

            “Open it when you’re alone,” he had said.  “It’s what’s left of your house, your inheritance,” he had told her.  “See if it sparks anything, and be sure to write me,” he added, snapping a toothpick, a dark expression on his face.

            Caanan laughed.  “Don’t worry, you’ll be home before you know it,” he waved it off, looking up when a person knocked on the wooden frame holding the glass doors shutting their compartment off from the world.  The door slid open, a face popping in.

            “Yo,” he raised a hand in greeting, his dark hair, brown with a reddish tint, coming down his neck, just above his shoulders and tied back, barely long enough for the ponytail he had it in.  “Is there room for one more here?” he asked.

            Caanan glanced over at Chomeske and got up, switching seats, taking the one next to her, seeing her worry.  “Yeah, the more the merrier,” he smiled, gesturing for the newcomer to sit down.

            “Who put a lid on your pot?” he asked, sensing a heavy feeling in the air as lifted his large trunk up into the overhead compartment, his dark brown one standing out between the two black ones, belonging to Chomeske and Caanan.

            “Excuse me?” Caanan’s jaw dropped.

            “Sorry, it’s just a saying form where I’m from,” he laughed, his brown eyes bright.  He extended a hand.  “Reno Mallory.”

            Caanan eyed the stranger’s hand for a few moments, before extending his own.  “Caanan Tsuimo, and that’s Chomeske.”

            “She can introduce herself, can’t she?” Reno asked, leaning back in his seat and watching Chomeske.

            Caanan shot daggers at Reno, jumping slightly when Chomeske grabbed hold of his hand and gave it a squeeze, his gaze softening.  “Well, that might be hard when you’re mute,” he smirked, holding Chomeske’s hand, the image of his sister fresh in his mind, lying in a hospital bed, dark circles under her eyes, barely strong enough to sign.

            “Oh, well that’s going to make it hard to carry a conversation,” Reno let out a little laugh, crossing his arms behind his head, the collar of his shirt shifting enough for Chomeske to be able to make out a black spot, looking like a very simple flower; four petals, thin and with space between each other, almost as if its remaining petals had fallen off.  It was on his left collar bone, and no larger than a bottle cap.

            “Well maybe we’re weary travelers trying to et some shut eye,” Caanan flashed Reno an obviously fake smile, and received a similar one in return.

            “Well, being travelers, I’m sure you have plenty of stories to tell,” Reno retorted.

            “Maybe my stories aren’t for children,” Caanan said, his words dripping with sarcasm.

            “Maybe I’ve seen more than you’d know,” Reno smirked.  “And what some children do these days is surprising.”

            “Maybe I’m not telling you,” Caanan sneered.

            “Perhaps you only know one story, and it’s about what put a lid on your pot.”

            Chomeske frowned, pulling her hand free from Caanan’s.  She stood up, frowning deeply at him.  Stop acting like a little kid, Caanan! she signed like a furious orchestra director, tearing the sliding door aside and leaving them behind in the compartment, catching her breath in the hallway, which was barely wide enough for a person to carry a trunk through.

            She stuck her hands in her pockets, finding she still had money in them; money for food Tono had given them for the trip.

            It dawned on her how hungry she was, so, putting a “brave face on,” as Toki liked to put it, she took a deep breath and trudged along, in search of the dining car.

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Who put the lid on your pot? XD  I was sleep deprived when i came up with that, and I told that to this dude in school today and he gave me a weird look.... x)

so far, that has to be one of my favorite lines written next to Caanan's: "You're loud for a mute person."