ꜱʟɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍʏ ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀꜱ┃ɪꜱᴀʙᴇʟʟᴀ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇʟᴇᴠᴇɴ: ꜱᴇʟᴄᴏᴜᴛʜ

Something I've picked up on is that Sonju is the more patient of the two. Mujika is always moving, always efficient, and hates waiting. If she's not sewing at an impressive pace, she's cooking, or building, sometimes even decorating. That's why Sonju handles the more tedious tasks. Hunting, farming, and weaving are more his pace. At dinner, the two cooperate to teach me simple phrases in the dead language of the demons. The phrases I use frequently are: umi, for mother, and baba, for father. I started using those phrases to refer to the two of them in my second year. It's been a habit ever since.

As Sonju and I make our way back home, I readjust my cloak. One of the buttons has come loose. I make a note to resew it later. Glancing over at Sonju, I see he's carrying the hog with minimal effort. I roll my eyes. He's always complaining about how bad his back is and how I should be carrying back what we've hunted. Obviously, he's dramatic.

On my hip, my mask bounces as I walk. An exact replica of what a demon's face appears to be. Horns and all. Sonju carved it from the tusk of a large creature a while back. It's slick like ivory, and hard as steel. If I ever run into another demon, I've been instructed to flip up my hood, put on the mask, and run home as fast as possible. I remember complaining about this rule when I was younger.

"Not your fight." Sonju would grumble. In retrospect, he was correct. It's a coward's way to live, but a way of life regardless. I'd rather come home with damaged pride than not come home at all. In addition to my mask and cloak, I have a pair of black gloves with a false finger in my back pocket, and I wear long jumping stilts. The stilts are much longer than my regular winter coat, so I wear a separate fabric to cover them- regardless of the season. For this reason, I always wear a cloak when I leave home. With the stilts on, I come up to Sonju's shoulder, which is a plus.

Sonju and I near the house, and I swiftly removed the pins and band that had tied my hair into a Gibson tuck. I waved to Mujika- who was standing near the entrance- and made exaggerated gestures at the pig Sonju carried, mouthing: "I got it myself". She chortled and motioned Sonju inside. As I sit just outside the entrance to remove my stilts, I catch a whiff of rhubarb and berry. My favorite pastry of hers.

I rushed to remove my stilts and take off my coat. Jogging inside, I lean down to give Mujika a hug. She kisses my cheek, and whispers in my ear.

"A pre-birthday surprise for you."

I pull away from the hug and see that she has adorned a tender smile. I thank her, and practically skip across the house, making my way to the room where we clean our game. I catch Sonju just as he's dropping the hog onto a long table. He looks at me, and I motion for him to move down. He does so, and I ask.

"Need any help?" He shakes his head no.

"You sure, old man? What about your back?" He sighs and stands, but I catch a faint smile gracing his lips.

While the pastry is baking, and Sonju is cleaning dinner, I walk to my designated room. Hopefully, I can nap and wake up before the pastries are finished. In the tunnels, my artwork decorates the walls. Years of my art is scattered in our home. The best pieces are kept in Mujika's Memento box, and all the others are hung up. They refused to trash anything I drew. Every art piece I tried to sneakily throw away or hide would be found a few days later hanging in the tunnels. I blame Mujika, who's strangely sentimental over small things.

My room is simple. There's a full bed in the corner, with furs and a mattress softer than you can imagine. Next to it, is a nightstand. As I enter the room, a makeshift clothing rack is to my right, and a large mirror is to my left.

I eyed my appearance in the mirror. I appear feral compared to how I looked seven years ago. My hair hasn't been cut in years- not including a simple trim. It grows long past my shoulders and just reaches my hips. Uneven layers stick up wildly. After discarding my coat, a long pair of high-waisted, jet-black trousers was visible. As a top, I'm wearing a simple white button-down. This was my typical winter attire.

In the summer, my outfits were more intricate. I wore lots of dresses, as Mujika loves making them. Some are simple- just a white shirt and black skirt- but many are skillfully designed to be resilient and beautiful. I have an entire rack dedicated to these summer dresses specifically. Yes, I'm spoiled.

Flopping onto my mattress, I sink slowly into the warmth of my unmade nest. I consider everything I've done, everything I've achieved- and ask myself once more: am I ready for the outside world? 

♡♡♡

【Vault】

✘ Mujika discovered the art of clothing through observing (y/n)'s various garments. She fell in love with the intricate detailing and decided to take it up as a hobby rather than a necessary skill.

✘ Mujika sews when she's stressed, Sonju does pottery.

✘ Mujika and Sonju grew much closer while raising (y/n). She made their relationship stronger.

♡♡♡

WC: 1426

More fluff!! Again, I have no idea, so please let me know if it's too much lol. If you recognized Arabic as the "dead language", good for you! I think Arabic is a beautiful language, and I was excited to incorporate some of it (I feel like (y/n) calling Mujika "umi" is more natural than calling her "mother" considering her past). Also, I refuse to believe that the demons didn't have some sort of language before English. The dead language won't be used often, but I'll incorporate it every once in a while. I hope I'm not offending anyone, but if I am, please DM me.

Enjoy the early chapter,

rem

» 6.24.21