Io,
Mama is writing before dinner. I cooked your favorite boiled potatoes because I thought you would be coming home on Saturday. Papa is in the woods now so I am writing a letter to you. Mama doesn't know if you have money to buy sunflower seeds, so I sent a packet over. Eat your vegetables, and sleep early. Make many many friends and remember to tell Mama about them.
Io, when are you coming home?
______________________________
"Were you there?"
"I wasn't."
"So how did you know that it was the sparrow who won?"
"He had the Joker's mark—"
"Yeah, but who told you that? You believe them?"
Vaughn wondered if it was a sin to wish himself deaf at times.
"Rina told me. She wouldn't lie."
"Irina? Everyone lies, Rhea...you can't trust someone that easily."
"Maybe."
"I mean...he's prey. He can't possibly win."
"Sure, I guess."
"It's more likely that the eagle won."
"And the vulture? He's the headmistress' son. You think he would lose to a first-timer?"
No one called him by his name, apparently.
Or perhaps he didn't have one at all;
In their eyes.
"Nothing's impossible, Rhea. It all boils down to what you were born as; so it makes sense that scavengers aren't all that powerful to begin with."
A snort.
"Yeah, sure. So how do you think he won against Lucienne? And Dimitri? And Slayne?"
"Well—he's cunning. That's all I can say."
Was it wrong to be?
Did they, for some reason—forget the capabilities of a human mind?
To think.
To think, to plan, and to solve—
"So you mean to say that the eagle was more cunning?"
"He probably had an advantage over him. Strength, speed—whatever. It doesn't matter Rhea. We're not concerned with the people who lost."
There was a pause.
"Are we not?"
Her companion scoffed. "Why should we be? I mean—"
"In the end, it's winning that matters. See, we don't care who's second, or who's third."
Rhea was quiet. "I guess."
Vaughn hadn't quite realized the resentment that rose from within.
It was red and it had thorns that
Pricked at
His cage.
Beauty in sadness
And anger.
_______________________________
The boy looked up.
He felt as if he was being watched.
His gaze removed itself from the absence of a presence, proceeding to dart—anxiously—to his right; his left, and then; behind. His last option was the least of his preferences, since that would have meant that someone was following him.
And that wasn't very pleasant at all.
Not after he had just been discharged from the infirmary barely an hour ago; and definitely not after the longest night he ever had.
To his relief, his eyes witnessed no presence of darkness. There was no one there.
But perhaps the very thought sparked yet another question from within; a question of fear that demanded an answer clear—
The blank and vulnerable state of being alone.
How was he to answer the loud and fearful mind that existed when he was by himself? How fragile, how weak had he become when he was alone?
If there were, he hoped himself wrong, someone—watching him—the sparrow wished for perhaps, another pair of eyes; that would look out for him.
He could almost hear Pipa's voice by his side, as if she was there like she had always been when they walked to class together—
But alas, she was not.
________________________________
Slayne woke to the fragrant scent of a Japanese-style breakfast that comforted his senses.
His heart was still beating fast from the remnants of a nightmare; but that seemed to matter in the least at times like this—where everything basked in his tranquil peace.
The nightingale's.
His sweet hum of a forgotten tune that Slayne found particularly endearing was lifted by the scent of an inviting meal—the sign of his presence encasing the Nocturne's lair in quiet happiness.
It drew the owl from his bed; the bed that he had been resting in for more than two days straight, just to catch up with sleep that slipped through his fingers during the Season games.
Prey were not to be seen during the days of rest after the games. It was one of the many unspoken rules.
Therefore; this familiar scent, quiet happiness, and warm presence—seemed to have brought Slayne out of his nightmare and into the uglier waking world.
But to the owl...the world seemed a little less intolerable with him in it.
Him.
How his feet carried his heart towards where it was, he did not know. Slayne didn't even know where his heart was. He never knew that he had lost it long before—to that smile; voice; and soul. He didn't know.
And perhaps he never would.
He glanced at the time—never-ending as it was—and realized that his prey had come the moment they were allowed to.
Not a minute late, he assumed. After all, it was his nightingale and knowing him, he was never late.
*
"Pet?"
Jiro turned with a start, almost dropping the ladle in his right hand.
"Ah—"
Slayne leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, taking in what he would. The preparation of a meal; the air; the quaintness; the sight, scent, sound of his prey.
He made a guess.
"Miso soup?"
Jiro nodded happily, a gentle smile upon his lips. "Yes, Master. How did you know?"
"I just did," The Nocturne laughed lowly, sauntering into the kitchen as he watched his nightingale add finely chopped spring onions into the boiling pot of fragrant soup. He did not want to admit the real reason behind his guess—that he knew his prey would prepare what he liked the most.
Jiro returned the laugh with one that sounded almost heavenly.
To the owl; the rest of the world did not deserve to hear the beauty of this.
It was his—and his only.
"I have also prepared rice, and salmon," Jiro glanced up at his predator with unworldly eyes. They looked a little brown under the light— "I hope you like it, Master."
—Russet. A humble russet brown; modestly dark and unassuming.
A hidden gem.
"Master?"
The owl turned to his prey. No—he had already been looking at him, and still he was distracted from Jiro by Jiro himself. How? He did not know.
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry, I hadn't intended to wake you up," His pet appeared slightly disheartened despite the kind smile on his face. "Please continue to rest if you are tired."
No he would not.
Even if he was tired, he would not. Not when his pet had come right on time. "I'm good."
It was 3 o'clock in the afternoon—simply put, the middle of the day. The Nocturne was supposed to be asleep.
Jiro felt very guilty. Io was a sparrow and like himself, active in the day. His predator must have had very little sleep from helping his friend.
"I wanted to thank you for helping Io..."
Ah, so that's how it was? The owl couldn't help but feel slightly aggravated. After all, it seemed to him then, that his prey had merely come to express his gratitude for helping that stupid sparrow—and not for the sole purpose of serving him, his predator.
"...that's what I would like to say, but, I think, I..."
He transferred a ladle-full of miso soup—seaweed, small dices of tofu and all—into a bowl and blew gently.
"I was also very worried for you, Master."
To the predator;
Nothing mattered any more than this.
But of course;
neither of them understood.
_________________________________
Understanding, to the sparrow, usually came in the form of a strange soft light. For all he knew, it could have been an unlit bulb in the darkness of his mind, already present yet unacknowledged. Did the lack of acknowledgement necessarily mean the absence of understanding, then? Ah, the boy knew not. But what he knew, for sure, was that he had never—not once in his life—danced. Not country, not contemporary, not any sort of beautiful form he'd ever dream of understanding; and definitely not ballroom.
"Sparrow, are you even listening?" A voice snapped Io away from the depths of his mind.
Eyes focusing, once again, on the dance instructor before him, the boy nodded quickly. "I was watching, Miss."
He kept his head low, not looking her in the eye. After all, she was a predator.
"Really?" She mused to the class. "How convenient. I was about to invite some of you Marks to demonstrate the progressive step. You shall be our first...volunteer."
The sparrow swallowed.
"Yes?" Someone had raised their hand.
"I will go in his place, Miss. Mrs. Goldfinch says that Iolani should be excused from physical activity since he has just been discharged from the infirmary," Vijay spoke clearly, though frightened.
He waited expectantly, hoping that the instructor would be a tad more understanding than he thought she would be. Io however, was prepared to be served raw on the floor.
The dance instructor turned to the class.
"Do you all think that a valid excuse?" She asked with a wry smile.
Lips sealed shut like a safe.
"What's wrong children? Do you not speak?"
Gretchen Klein was the first to raise her hand.
"Ah yes, you. What do you think?"
Io wondered if she really wanted to know what Gretchen thought; or whether she simply wanted to hear what she willed to hear.
"I think it is hardly valid, Miss. Being discharged would imply that one is already in good health Furthermore, dancing should be a fairly simple task; to be excused from it would be nothing short of a disgrace, I fear."
The woman smiled, teeth showing.
"Why, that is a beautiful answer dear. As expected from a lovely peacock like yourself," Gretchen's head rose in pride as she sat up the straightest she could. "How about you demonstrate the 'simplicity' of the English waltz yourself? As the sparrow's partner, of course."
The instructor delighted in her look of dawning horror.
Gretchen's eyes snapped towards Io with a cutting glare, wide and fierce. She swallowed; then nodded reluctantly. "Yes Miss."
The sparrow and the peacock left the comfort of their seats—where they were once the onlookers, the wallflowers of a crowd that demanded little attention—to join the instructor. They had been the audience; and now they were part of the performance.
"Let us start with the standard beat, a 3/4 time for the English waltz. I want you both to show us the progressive step for ten bars and the balance step for another ten, is that clear?" The predator turned to the pair of Marks by her side. "Joseph, please."
The pianist began.
Io did not know where to put his arm. He took her hand and felt Gretchen flinch as if disturbed. He apologized, and she rolled her eyes with a sigh.
"Stop, stop—what are you doing?"
The music stilled; and the instructor came forth with the most exasperated look in her eyes.
"You don't take her hand, you let her rest her upon your open one. Offer it, sparrow, you ask for her hand—yes! Now, where do you put your other hand? Yes, upon her waist, yes. And you? Rest it upon his arm dear, you are not wearing a gown as of now so we leave your skirt untouched. Yes!" The instructor fussed once or twice, adjusting the angles of their backs and the tilt of their heads to the curve of their fingers.
Once satisfied, she urged them to remain in position while she turned to the murmuring class, who silenced themselves upon her gaze.
"You see that your classmates have made a fool of themselves—a great example indeed, for any one of you who wish to put your attention elsewhere. You wouldn't want to embarrass yourselves in front of others like what the sparrow and the peacock did, would you?" She mused. "I'm sure you wouldn't."
Io was disheartened. But that didn't seem to matter to the instructor or his partner at the moment. Gretchen's lips were drawn into a thin line—eyes cold and face hard. Io heard her curse under her breath; blaming him for dragging her into the embarrassment he was.
"Apologies, Joseph. Please continue."
The music began.
"Eyes not on your feet but your partner—"
"The ladies backwards; gentlemen forward; now the rest of you pay attention to both parts because prey are expected to know both—"
As far as Io knew, he never wanted to dance again. And for some reason, he was sure Gretchen didn't either.
Well...at least not with him.
______________________________
When Callaghan received the message that his student had left in his pigeon hole (a literal hole with a personal pigeon to send and receive messages for their owner), he was delighted.
Io had chosen the midnight picnic activity from the list that he had provided, which the professor admitted to himself—was an excellent choice indeed.
"Don't smile at a letter, it's creepy."
Callaghan turned to the source of the voice with a start; popping the bubble of thoughts he had been residing in. "O-Oh, Quint. You startled me."
"No one uses startled, idiot." The deputy headmaster said with a drawl. "Let me see that."
The widowbird took a cautious step back. "Would that be necessary?"
"It is if I say so," Faustes said as if stating the obvious, reaching for the piece of parchment paper with ease. Callaghan sighed as his friend scanned the contents, already used to such treatment.
"There's nothing in there that would require your attention unless you are part of the Astronomy Club," He folded his arms indignantly, watching as the hawk proceeded to toss the letter into the bin. "Hey—"
"True. Someone as dense as you wouldn't even notice a threat even if they approach you with a pair of scissors to clip your wings."
"How ridiculous," The widowbird frowned. "Someone with a pair of scissors does not mean that they wish to clip your wings. For all you know, they simply caught a lose thread dangling out of your scarf in the most unappealing manner and wish to snip it off for you."
"Exactly."
Faustes crossed his arms in a relaxed manner, leaning against the professor's desk as if he had said something that proved his point entirely.
Callaghan bit his lip uncomfortably, fidgety under the gaze of a predator. "It's not your job to care."
"And why?"
"Well I—" He paused, hesitant.
"You?"
"I..." He looked away. "I'm not yours anymore."
"I know that," Faustes shrugged. "But it's not as if V's doing her job as your predator either."
"And that is understandable, is it not? She is the headmistress. She doesn't have time for a meagre prey like myself when she has others."
"Doesn't mean you're any less important," The predator pointed out with a frown. He knew he had won the argument. He always did, either way.
The hawk watched as Callaghan adjusted the slim pair of glasses that sat elegantly on the bridge of his nose.
"And you're telling me this because...?"
His lips were drawn into a thin line; as if secrets were kept behind them.
It didn't take long for Faustes to register the stupid question with a laugh, taking a step closer to flick the former's forehead.
"Because I care;
Even if I don't have to."
"I'm your friend, Wint.
Of course I fucking care."
____________________________
Wint Callaghan emerged from the staff room with a picnic basket filled with tuna sandwiches and a loaf of pumpkin and sweetcorn bread each. He had a flask of chilled citrus tea in his other hand, estimated to the perfect amount for three.
Three was a confident number—and it was, for all intents and purposes, the very first time the Astronomy Club was having a humble gathering together on their club activity day. Surely, the long-time (almost non-existent) member would have received the letter informing him of their meeting.
Ah but of course there was the possibility of him ignoring it—just like he did on the other days with Callaghan being the only one to witness his marked absence.
The widowbird tried to convince himself that it would be different this time round. They had a brand new member. A companion. Surely he would be interested to meet him for the first time. After all, Callaghan had to admit that the sparrow was very approachable; much more than himself, in the very least. It made logical sense that no student would spend time alone in the astronomy tower with a boring professor.
Wint Callaghan thought himself very boring. Perhaps even more boring than any other professor under the vast, invisible sky.
*
"Good evening Sir!" Piped a voice that startled Callaghan as soon as he stepped out under the stars of the east grounds.
"Goodness. You're early, Tori." The professor noted in relief before panicking at the sight of Io's empty arms. "Did you forget to bring the picnic mat?"
The boy laughed, beckoning his teacher further away from the campus.
"No Sir, I've been trying to search for a good spot all evening! I came early just to place the mat at the perfect spot."
Callaghan breathed a sigh, laughing softly as Io went on to ask how often he worries about things in general.
"I'm afraid I worry too often, Tori. It's not a good habit of mine I'm sure."
The sparrow shook his head immediately.
"I don't think so," He glowed. "Worrying just means that you care. And caring is good."
It reminded the professor of what his friend had said earlier; and instantly, his chest felt a little lighter than before. "That would be a positive way of looking at it."
Io paused thoughtfully as they settled down on the checkered picnic mat, taking out his personal pair of binoculars. His Avian rested on his shoulder.
"Does having a different perspective necessarily mean it has a positive or negative connotation?" He asked, turning to the professor with a curious gaze.
Slightly surprised by this, Callaghan cleared his throat to stall for time. He couldn't think of a concrete answer to this question, and being a professor—that would have been very disappointing to Io indeed.
"Well, Tori. I think that would always depend on the person providing the perspective. Whether or not they are being objective and neutral to the subject they are viewing."
"That's true," Io nodded in agreement, producing a lunchbox from his book bag. "But is it possible for one to be completely objective or neutral to their surroundings?"
"Uh, well—I," The widowbird stumbled over his words; uncertain. He began to wonder how a stargazing session with his beloved club members had turned into a lesson on epistemology.
Thankfully, Io helped.
"Maybe it is, you know. But I can't imagine there being no more to a person than objectivity—someone with a neutral stand; and it's so curious—"
"I...well I know someone—a friend, who appeared to be fairly indifferent at first," The sparrow went on, opening his lunchbox to reveal portions of potato salad separated by cupcake holders. "I'm not even sure whether I can consider him as my friend; but I like him very much and he appears to like me too."
"He's never really smiled before. He doesn't speak a lot like I do. So I can't really tell what he's thinking, and maybe sometimes it doesn't even seem like he is thinking at all—I mean, he looks so indifferent."
"What is it like in the minds of other people?"
Io held out his lunchbox to offer the professor a portion of handmade potato salad. He had done this so casually that Callaghan had to doubt his ears for a moment. Surely, he must have heard wrongly. Those words didn't seem like they belonged to a sparrow at all—curious, yes; but far too dangerous for a prey.
"Professor," The boy started again after a pause. "Have you ever...heard the thoughts of someone else?"
"No. No I haven't, Tori." Callaghan was starting to worry. Their third member had yet to arrive.
"Ah...I see..."
Io appeared disheartened. "That's okay."
The widowbird wanted to ask if he did. But it didn't seem like a good idea for a teacher to pose such a personal question to one of his students.
Callaghan's Avian pecked at crumbs of bread as he was thinking, appreciating the meal.
"Tori—"
"Sir it would be nice if you would call me by my first name instead," Io commented out of the blue.
"How rude of you to interrupt me."
"Ah," The sparrow apologized with a sheepish bow of his head. "I'm sorry. It's just that I feel so distant when you use my last name."
Callaghan laughed awkwardly. "Is that so?" But that was the purpose, was it not?
"Well then...Iolani," The boy glowed. "Remember when you asked me if prey and predator could become friends?"
________________________________
Luka had been waiting for a long time.
The radiant glow of the moonlight seemed to dull his senses in the strangest manner he couldn't describe. His mind was silent as usual—a sanctuary to the heavy beat of his heart—while Victoria was by herself; perched on top of the treehouse, searching for any sign of the sparrow.
Had the eagle known that the prey would visit the night before, he would have stayed a little longer.
But he didn't.
Today however, he decided that he would—since he was well aware of the sparrow being discharged from the infirmary. It had been long since he met the latter, having spent some time building the contraption that would enable the sparrow to enter the treehouse without taking on the form of his Avian.
Luka was, admittedly, surprised at his willingness to share his private space. Victoria had agreed.
For which eagle would share his nest with another?
The eagle waited still.
He waited until the veil of moonlight cast upon the floating island cloaked it with a gentle hush. A hush that lulled the world into an infinite peace. An infinite peace that resembled the stars that smiled from above. A smile that looked upon the world in its darkness and vice. A vice that Luka knew and understood personally.
And in that understanding, he waited;
And waited still.
________________________________
"Remember when you asked me if prey and predator could become friends?"
"Yes," The boy turned to the adult, expectant.
"And I said that both parties are often aware of their roles in this world; and the distinction between them and the other side?"
"Yes."
The professor smiled quietly, and the eyes behind his glasses seemed to reflect the gentle stars above.
"I'd like you to know that my best friend is a predator."
"Though we are both aware of certain restrictions and perhaps what one would call...the laws of nature—"
"—I think Love has the ability to defy these laws.
It is, I believe, our only hope."
"Love?"
"Yes."
Callaghan turned to the sparrow with a sad smile. "Of all things; it is Love."
"Do you love your friends, Iolani?"
"—yes," The sparrow sipped at his citrus tea thoughtfully. "I do."
"Then, I think, that is all that matters."
"Friends can be aware of their differences; but above all, they will continue to love one another."
The night was full of quiet minds and heavy hearts;
Heavy hearts that before they knew,
Were filled with things they couldn't let go.
Heavy hearts that waited
For feelings to grow.
______________________________
But
The next day invited danger.
A danger that sought its prey with eyes—
Eyes that saw
Saw things that many didn't.
________________________________
A/N: /.\ c'mon Io, you can dance better than that. What are you going to do if Luka asks for your hand?? Ah but what if he doesn't ;_; uhu. I cri.
Spoiler: Io and Luka shall have a fateful meeting in the next chapter.
I hope you enjoyed this one!! ^0^/ I'm sorry if it seems a little slow at times ;_; sob sob
-Cuppiecake.
P.S There's a spider at the corner of the wall—right beside my study lamp. It has a tiny web. It's very tiny. He's been there since a very long time and every time I write on my laptop, he's always there hiding behind his web. I'm going to name him Timmy. Timmy is sho cute. I hope he eats well and lives a happy life.