"Thought and Memory serve their Master well."
"Ye do know 'ow much of a pain in the arse it is to clean grass stains out of clothes, don't ye?" the boy asks in irritation, holding up Jim's filthy blue sweater. "An' ye had to go an' do it during me turn."
His foster-brother gives him a guilty expression, rubbing his neck awkwardly. He hadn't exactly meant to get himself covered in mud.
"An' what's with the whole 'Mole Mania' thing?" he flicks off a piece of dirt from his own shirt. "I get tha' ye needed a theme, but really?"
"Sorry?" Jim offers, trying to back away from the scolding.
"Oi!" Tyler yanks the boy back, eyeing him sternly. "Shoes off."
He looks down at his feet in confusion, only to sigh in defeat. His lovely sneakers are coated in several layers of muck. There goes whatever sense of cleanliness he had.
"Go 'ave a shower an' we can talk 'bout this later," the bronze-haired instructs after picking up the ruined shoes.
"Only if you've cleaned up all the feathers," Jim retorts, earning himself a snort of amusement.
"Aye, was done yesterday," he chucks the dirty items of clothing in the washing machine. "Don't use all the hot water!"
"You don't need it!"
"Bugger off, would ya!" he snaps playfully, baring his teeth in a half-smile.
His foster-brother laughs, ducking down to avoid a pair of his own underwear being thrown at him. He flashes a quick smirk of achievement before slipping out the door.
Tyler sighs to himself, finishing the task at hand as he thinks. Just this morning, he saw something out on the soccer field that made him feel ill. A grotesque figure with glowing gold eyes and roots growing across its back that manipulated the shadows surrounding.
He had actually been sick.
Unsure whether or not it was the result of his mythological imagination or something he'd really seen with his two eyes, he chose the former, and continued on with his day. But the bubbling panic in his system was alarming, and with it still remaining, he's practically trembling with every movement. Something is most certainly not right.
However, he had been pleasantly surprised to discover that Strickler was back in town, taking up the position of acting-principle.
"I'm very glad to be back and excited to get started," the boy grins at his mentor, locking eyes with him for a brief moment. "But let it be known, with me in charge, things are going to change."
That last bit of his small speech makes the dazzling smile falter, because no matter who Strickler claims to be, the darkness was not glossed over. That was a very clear, and very disturbing threat to someone.
But, he's happy to see the man again, having missed the company of the person who taught him how to stand tall throughout his challenges.
After the assembly disperses, he strolls down the bleachers, ignoring the quizzical stares of students nearby. The box in his hands shifts slightly, and he quietly hushes the inhabitant inside, adjusting his grip to be more suitable.
"Mr. Strickler," he greets the newly appointed principle warmly. "It's been a while."
"Ah, Tyler," he returns, inclining his head in greeting, only to give an astonished look to what resides within his hands. "And who might your companion be?"
The young boy smiles softly, gently petting the raven fledgling's head with a finger. Several people today have asked about his 'pet', an incorrect and cruel term. When the fledgling is healed and old enough to fend for themselves, he will release them back in to the world whence they came.
"Muninn," he almost croons, glancing back up at the teacher with eyes of wonder and empathy. "I thought it would be fitting."
"One of Odin's ravens," Strickler comments with amusement. He's done his own research during his disappearance. "Old Norse for 'memory' if I recall."
"Indeed," Tyler lets loose an easy smirk. "Found 'im in the woods the other day. Barbara 'ad a fit."
The man chuckles at the thought. "I don't doubt."
"He's stayin' with me until he heals," Tyler displays no signs of greed, knowing deep down that all he wants is for the bird to be freed from his cage.
"Well, I'm sure he's in good hands," his mentor assures, guiding the boy out of the gymnasium. "After all, yours are the most capable of all."
Something about the way Strickler had said that disturbs him. Like he knows something that he's unaware of, or forgotten. Either way, it rubs him wrong.
Tyler sighs to himself, hitting the washing machine to make sure it starts before getting to his feet. It's time to feed Muninn at any rate, and he doesn't want to make the youngster wait any longer than he already has.
The sight that greets him at the top of the stairs makes him frown. Jim's got a packed bag slung over his shoulder, filled with very little besides essentials. Boots that he's never worn before are laced and tied tightly and a loose fitting jacket rests on his shoulders. He looks like he's going camping.
"Do ye never tell anyone anythin'?" the amber-eyed boy asks with an accusatory tone in his voice, folding his arms across his chest. "Or is it just me?"
His foster-brother flinches at his words, looking more than a bit guilty and plenty more hurt. But he settles for shifting on his feet rather than meeting the gaze of his equal.
"Jim, please," Tyler almost begs, watching the boy continue on his way to the front door. "I worry, ye know? I just wanna know if yer gonna be all right."
"I'll be fine," he brushes off the concern being given to him. "It's just a camping trip with Toby and Claire."
"That's me point," he sighs, leaning against the wall. "Ye don't tell me these thin's beforehand. Ye just mention it at the last minute."
Jim gives a sigh of his own, hand resting on the doorknob. "I'm sorry, Tyler. I am. It's just..." he trails off, unsure as to how he is to finish the sentence.
"I know," his shoulders slump in defeat, and the inflicted damage is almost visible through his eyes. "Just keep yerself safe for me, all right?"
The younger boy gives a weak and playful half-smile, opening the door as he looks back. "I can't quite promise that."
"Then come back in one piece."
"I will."
And with that, the boy's gone, leaving only the lingering presence of a forgotten child. With him, goes one of the last lights of his life, leaving him to wonder whether or not the world is revolving without him. Perhaps he is left in the dust of changing times. Perhaps he will be forgotten once again.
Updates are going to take a bit slower from now on, given that I'll be starting online physics soon and will be out of the country in about two weeks.
Otherwise, the next chapter should start Tyler's involvement in the Troll shenanigans.
Hope you enjoyed, and otherwise, until next time!