Flying Lorises {a modern day leviathan fic}

part xxii

 written by maddie, beta read by cat

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Alek isn’t normally a fan of outdoorsy activities, being kept inside as the president’s son, so you can imagine Deryn’s surprise when he decides to take them to a park for their last day in Frankfurt. Mr. Klopp drops them off at the park’s entrance and speeds away with Mr. Volger in the front seat. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” he’d warned them both. “Don’t be brash.”

“That doesn’t leave us much to do,” remarks Deryn, after the dust that squeals beneath the tires has settled.

The square is not unlike the one they passed through the day Bovril fell out of a tree, and the memory makes Deryn wish that he was here beside her. She’s finding she misses the beastie’s presence.

Today it is not too crowded, and there are a few children playing in the fountain in the center of the park. There are sidewalks made of concrete which weave in between patches of grass, forming a circle around the artificial spring. It’s hot enough to make Deryn want to join the kids in their bathing suits.

Instead, she settles for taking her jacket off, and on second thought, she pulls off her sweater, too. It leaves her in a tank top, which she’s hesitating to call skimpy. Still, the breeze feels fantastic on her skin and she tucks her outer layers under her arm.

Alek turns around and starts, and Deryn is suddenly self-conscious. She looks down at herself. Well, it’s not too bad. She hasn’t got much in the upper regions, but it’s enough to make her want to cover up. Her arms cross over her chest.

“What?” she says.

Alek realizes that staring makes her uncomfortable, and looks down with a cough. “It’s nothing, really,” he says. “It’s only that I’ve never seen you out of that thing.” He gestures at the army green jacket.

She shifts awkwardly, rubbing her arm. “It was my dad’s,” Deryn says. “I wear it everywhere.”

Deryn’s glad that she’s already told him about her father’s death online; online, where she can cry behind the screen and not see his face staring back with condolance. She doesn’t think she could handle it if he pitied her. 

Alek nods, understanding, and lets the matter drop. Rather than risk the suffocating silence, he finds them a spot beneath a sturdy tree with thick leaves that block out the scorching sun. 

“Come on.” He pats the ground beside him and swings his bag off his shoulder. Curious, Deryn sits, watching as Alek pulls out a bundle of cloth and lays it out on the ground. 

Next, he pulls out two loaves of french baguettes, and two plastic containers. Upon closer inspection, Deryn sees that one’s filled with lettuce and slices of tomato, and the other’s filled with some sort of meat. Finally, he puts two green apples amidst it all. 

“What exactly are you doing?” asks Deryn somewhat cautiously.

“Am I doing it wrong?” Alek frowns at his set-up, as if there is something out of place. Reaching forward, he straightens a corner of the cloth and smooths down the wrinkles in the fabric.

“Doing what wrong?”

“Having a picnic!” he responds just as exasperatedly. “Is there a certain way it has to be done, or have I gotten it right?”

Deryn’s smiling all at once, smiling at her friend’s cluelessness and at his graceless determination. “This is supposed to be a picnic?” Her smile gives way, and she roars with laughter, gasping for breath.  

Alek’s cheeks redden as he watches her howl, unamused.