[Closed] Walls I Cannot Climb

[Desiderio Morandi]

above the good pan, old rose harbor

morning on the 29th of roalis, 2720

H

e’s not done anything. Morandi might have laughed, had he not been wound so tightly.

The girl they had called Ginny was still burying her head in her brother’s chest, but the boy was staring at his feet now, looking baffled. He followed the boy’s eye, no less confused; he knew that he was looking at his own feet in socks, now wet and smudged with dirt from the alleyway, but he could not seem to process the sight.

Aurelie’s voice, in spite of an undercurrent of tightness, was as bright and warm as he could imagine it. As if they were merely washing pup; as if the last few days had not happened; as if she herself was not –

She must have been frightened in equal measure, nearly at the middle of his sigiled field. He watched her reach up with one damp hand and tuck her hair behind her ears, first on one side and then on another, a few strands of hair stuck together now with suds. There was a bit of lather on one of her cheeks. He was utterly taken and could not seem to look away: she was smiling gently even in the midst of all of it, even with what he imagined must have been no less panic than he felt.

When he looked back up, the boy was looking at him, as if for the first time – looking him up and down, all of him, looking more and more surprised.

The girl shifted to look over her shoulder, raw-red eyes sneaking a glance at the two of them before she buried her head back in her brother’s arm.

The boy was looking him in the eye, thoughtful. As if he had just realized this, he jerked his gaze away, and so did Morandi – over and down.

Aurelie was lathering the shampoo into Shadow’s fur, calm and rhythmic. He breathed in deeply; the smell was still what it had been moments ago.

“Puppy?” said Ginny, muffled. She shifted as if to look again, but her brother held her more tightly.

Desiderio is my friend. He tried not to glance over, surprised and aching with something he could not name. And Shadow too.

He took another deep breath, dizzied, trying to focus himself on the smell of violets. Slowly, he turned and reached for Shadow, who was whining softly. He felt pup’s muscles tense underneath his hands at first, but then he began to work the soap through his fur along with Aurelie, following her rhythm as precisely as he could. He felt some of pup’s muscles loosen, even if his furry ears were still laid back.

Focusing on the rhythm and Shadow’s fur, a little of the heat went out of his field. He could not suppress it, but it loosened at the edges; it felt like a muscle, twitching and tired, ready to spring back.

Where was his discipline now? There was nothing noble in this. To be afraid of this, of one’s own – what separated him from –

“Puppy,” Ginny said, squirming.

“He doesn’t need his shoes,” the boy said. “Mum said I should – I should get someone – but I don’t know –”

“Please.” Morandi looked over and up, his mouth dry. “You will put her in danger if you tell anyone. You must not. Aurelie is my friend,” he said. “If she is yours, then you are mine.”

“We heard,” he said. “M-Mum said you were a –”

The boy was looking at Aurelie, his face still very pale.

“Mum said that’s why the scarred man was looking for you. I-I don’t believe it. And I’m not going to leave you with him, Miss Aurelie.” He stuck his chin out. “W-We take care of our own. I’m not afraid.”

“Wanna pet puppy! Stop it, Peter!”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Roalis 29, 2720 - Afternoon
The Good Pan Bakery

Aurelie had absolutely no idea what she was doing here. She hadn't for quite some time, of course. Not since she'd asked, against all reason and common sense, if Desiderio was still drawing. Or perhaps, going further back, since she'd penned a letter with uneven hand to Aremu, asking for help she hadn't known the shape of.

What else could she do though but carry on as best she knew how? To push it all down, all the fear and nervousness and doubt, and deal with them later? They certainly wouldn't help her now. She had hoped to take some tension out of the air with the absurdity of pointing out Desiderio's socks; it was perhaps less successful than she might have liked. Desiderio and Peter stared at each other a moment, Ginny still hiding her face against her brother's chest.

"That's right," she said to Ginny's muffled question. She wanted to smile at her, to reassure the girl that Shadow, at least, was harmless, but she couldn't. Peter didn't let the girl turn to look; Aurelie's stomach was twisted into a tense, sour knot. Continuing to wash Shadow was as much for her own nerves as for the dog. There was something deeply soothing about the smell of violets and Shadow's warm bulk under her hands.

Aurelie was too much a coward to look at Desiderio after she'd boldly declared him her friend. She was also, she had to admit, still angry with him and more than a little afraid besides. She didn't understand why none of the tension his field brought to the air had eased. Not a single whit of it. That was all a subject for later, when they didn't have young eyes on them and young ears to hear them. When she might feel a little more brave, just the two of them alone.

The declaration was still achingly sincere, whatever it meant. Aurelie hadn't the slightest idea how he would respond.

He started to move. Aurelie watched him without stopping what she was doing or turning any herself. Just kept her eyes on him, uncertain and trying not to be. To her surprise and pleasure, it was Shadow he reached for. Poor Shadow, with his ears laid back and so much tension in his muscles; she could feel him straining against the desire to run. She couldn't say she blamed him. Desiderio followed her example, and after a moment that eased.

So did some of the heat in the air—not all, but some. Aurelie wondered if Desiderio was afraid, too; what of? Her list of theories was short, and all of them made her heart hurt. Shadow and Desiderio didn't seem entirely dissimilar, in that moment. It might have made her smile, in better circumstances.

Peter was, of course, entirely too grown up to go along with her attempt at silliness. She couldn't say that he was wrong really. Desiderio didn't need anything at all, as far as she knew, but a voice and the will to shape it. Aurelie was still trying to think of a way to set Peter at ease—the idea of him running off to fetch someone filled her with a dread no worse than what she felt in the middle of Desiderio's field.

"Peter, you don't need to—"

Aurelie stopped, stunned. Her eyes widened, looking at Desiderio. Smiling at him now would be inappropriate and odd, but it took considerable effort to keep one off of her face. All the danger in this situation for all of them, Desiderio included, and here she was trying not to flutter and blush because of everything Desiderio said. Bells and chimes, she was an idiot. The blush came anyway; she could only hold back the rather more voluntary action of smiling.

See? she almost said. This could all be just fine, if only—

We heard.

The ground beneath her seemed less substantial than it ought to. Such a stubborn, sweet boy, Peter. Trying to do the right thing. Deny it, the sensible part of her mind urged her. Tell him it isn't true. She was a poor liar.

"Of course you aren't. I..." Her mouth was dry. Did the whole street know? The block, the neighborhood? The arrest had certainly been public, and Desiderio rather... distinctive. Hadn't she just been saying so? She had been stupid, to think she could hide from this forever. Just one day, though? Was that too much?

And there was Ginny, wanting nothing more than to pet Shadow. She twisted in her brother's hold, trying to pull away. Aurelie's hands had stopped their rhythm, and Shadow whined. "I'm sorry darling," she murmured, but couldn't seem to make herself move. She glanced at Desiderio, not sure what she thought it was she might find.

[Desiderio Morandi]

above the good pan, old rose harbor

morning on the 29th of roalis, 2720

I

f the faint flush he saw in the corner of his eye surprised him, it was not long on her face; not when Peter – so Aurelie called him – spoke again.

Her voice was not quite as it had been. The tone of calm reassurance was there, but there was something strained underneath it now, a dry edge as it petered out and she trailed off. Morandi looked up from Shadow, whom he had studiously focused himself on. She was no longer scrubbing Shadow, and there was the faintest lack of focus in her eyes.

Shadow let out a soft whine. Aurelie looked frozen. When she looked up at him, he was already studying her, intent – and his eyes widened slightly, his own mouth suddenly dry.

He was still lathering Shadow’s fur, he realized. In fact, he had quite thrown himself into it, as if by force of will he could ease the tension. In spite of the tension in himself – in spite of the heat and lightness still in the air, relaxing but still ready – perhaps because of it, after all. Morandi was no comforting presence. He knew this of himself. But both of his arms were around pup, and he was working the soap in underneath pup’s chin, in the ruff of his collar. His motions were methodical and even; he had not dropped the rhythm that Aurelie had started, as if it were a march.

And now he could not fathom what to do. He was staring across at Aurelie, still scrubbing and petting pup, and she seemed as if she could no longer speak to placate the boy. As if she needed help on that front, from –

Him?

He looked back over slowly to Peter, who was looking at Aurelie still, uncertain. “Puppy,” Ginny was saying, nearly writhing out from under his skinny arm, “puppy!”

“The scarred man is no longer looking for her,” he said, tight through his own panic, mounting once again, “but others are. It would –”

“But why are they –”

“Regardless of why,” he cut across Peter sharply, a hot crackle through his field, and then winced when the boy jumped.

Hurte preserve him, what was he? He could see Aurelie in the corner of his eye, and he burned with shame and something else, something deeper and older.

He took a deep breath and tried – unsuccessfully – to make more gentle his voice. “It would be – unwise –”

“Puppy!”

It happened so quickly there was scarce time to respond. Little Ginny flung herself at Shadow, throwing her arms around his furry wet bulk. Water and suds went everywhere; Morandi was splattered across the face, startled. He was not sure what had spilled out into his field, only that he felt a stroke of panic – not for him or for Aurelie, not for anything but that Shadow should snap at the girl.

Cursing, he wiped the suds from his eyes with a brusque gesture. But Shadow had descended upon Ginny with enthusiastic, slobbery licks. She had tottered onto her rear on the stones and was giggling like a maniac.

“Be careful,” he said sharply, ridiculously. When the relief hit him, it was staggering; he could barely look up at Aurelie, much less Peter, who looked too baffled to speak.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Roalis 29, 2720 - Afternoon
The Good Pan Bakery

Though Aurelie's hands had stilled, Desiderio kept going. Methodical and deliberate, with not a change in pace or rhythm. Aurelie found it unexpectedly... comforting. Steadying, Aurelie thought; there was something strangely steadying about Desiderio's presence, despite the tightness in the air and in the bottom of her stomach. Not just the strength of his arm, but the way he moved. Discipline, Aurelie thought again, in a dazed way.

At least one of them knew what to do—or could think of something to do at all, which she knew wasn't quite the same. Aurelie could neither speak nor move, it seemed. She tried, rather desperately, to think of some way to answer the look on Peter's face. She was looking at Desiderio still, but she could feel the boy's eyes on her. Ginny was still twisting in his grasp, in that boneless way of small children. She's going to get loose of him, Aurelie thought as if from very far away.

The scarred man is no longer looking for her. Of course he wasn't. The scarred man had already found her. Caught her, in fact, and very nearly—there was some level of absurdity here that made her want to laugh. The scarred man, she wanted to say, was something of a fugitive himself now, kneeling in this alley while they washed the filthy, matted fur of their dog. (How could you be afraid of someone, even someone like him, with their arms around a puppy, covered in soap suds?)

The crack through Desiderio's field and Peter's startled jump brought her somewhat back to herself. Her gaze focused, as did her frown, but there was no need to say anything. Not to Desiderio. She had no more idea what to say in answer to Peter's question, but she could at least move her hands while she thought. There was a sick lurch in her heart as she realized that she would have to persuade the children both not to say anything to their parents.

(What right had she to ask that of them? Who was she to ask for them to keep something from their family, just because...? It was a risk, having her here. Perhaps they deserved to know, and Aurelie shouldn't suggest otherwise. But didn't she have to, for Cass and for Desiderio more than herself?)

"Peter," she started gently without knowing how she meant to go on. At the same time Desiderio started to speak again, and his voice was a little less hard than it had been. He was trying; the realization brought with it a pinch of sadness. "Ginny—"

There was suddenly a flurry of movement. Just as she'd though, the little girl broke free of her brother's hold. She launched herself at Shadow; that was almost more terrifying than the rest of it. Aurelie cried out quietly, startled as soap and water and no small amount of fur splattered from Shadow and into her face and eyes. For a moment she couldn't see, her eyes squeezed shut against sudden irritation. There was a shift in Desiderio's field that she couldn't understand, only that it was a little different than before.

When she opened them, it was to see—Ginny, on the ground, and Shadow covering her joyful puppy kisses. She wasn't crying anymore, but giggling instead, the high-pitched and unrestrained laughter of the very young and very delighted. Shadow's thick striped tail was wagging again, flinging water everywhere.

"Be careful," came Desiderio's voice, sharply. Aurelie laughed, out of relief as much as anything. She was thoroughly wet now, and more than a little filthy. The dress would be a nightmare to clean. At this moment, she didn't care. Aurelie beamed at Desiderio, the knot of her anxiety untying.

"I told you he would make a good family dog." She had, in her heart, wondered at his suitability to be around children—but whatever instinct had led Shadow to her and her to him had told her also that she needn't worry. It seemed that her instincts were, for once, right. Seeing little Ginny dwarfed so by that great striped head, throwing her little arms around him, Aurelie felt relieved and pleased in equal measure. And somewhere else, underneath it all, a familiar sort of longing.

Aurelie turned to look at Peter, who seemed thoroughly confused. She drew a breath, and held the smile on her face. There was really only one thing she could say in the end. "Your mother is right," she told him as gently as she could; she didn't let herself look away. "About me. But I... We won't hurt you, or Ginny."

It was a lot that she was asking, of a boy who barely knew her—but a lie would only have complicated things. Aurelie held his gaze very steadily; he was a child, she thought, but old enough to make the decision of whether or not to believe her. To trust. As she would trust him, if he would let her.

[Desiderio Morandi]

above the good pan, old rose harbor

morning on the 29th of roalis, 2720

H

e had heard Aurelie yelp. Then, over even the ringing in his ears, he heard her laugh. He felt distinctly, illogically embarrassed – and then horribly grateful to feel that.

There was a panicked scowl frozen on his face. But then he looked up, and Aurelie was smiling; it took up her whole face, warm and bright. There was a tangle of hair stuck to her cheek in suds, and her fringe was all mussed. Even here, he had the oddest desire to run his fingers through it and put it back to order. There was the faintest glisten in one of her eyebrows, and he could imagine smoothing it away with his thumb –

A good family dog. Strange, the way his throat tightened. He wanted to say something in return, but all the words froze in his throat. She looked so – pleased.

Morandi supposed that he would make a good family dog, but for whose family? Morandi thought for the first time with concrete clarity, like a vague dream that had just been dissipated, that he would not make a very good family man. It was not the bander wolf who snapped at children.

What did it matter? It was only a turn of phrase. But the memory of dusty bottles and swaddled pillows and naming children together seemed so far away now; the shame still burned deeply in him.

Ginny shrieked with laughter. He felt a spur of discomfort. His shoulders were still tight. His gaze darted up to the second and third storey windows of the buildings opposite, peering out over the bakery’s rooftop, and then down the alleyway both ways.

Aurelie spoke again, and his eyes darted back, wide. I, she started, then: We. He swallowed.

As were the human boy’s. “No,” he said. He looked over Aurelie again, the frown in his small face deepening. “I… uh…”

“Silly puppy!” Shadow’s tail was beating back and forth, splattering suds and water everywhere.

Morandi was looking at Aurelie, an edge smoothed from his frown; his brow was furrowed instead. He was all too conscious of his field alone in the air, especially agitated and flexed as it was. And of her smile, even as she said it – and the way she looked quite intently at Peter.

It occurred to him not for the first time how well she spoke to them. He clung rather desperately to this. It seemed strange that this should be the great peril – children – that he should feel so powerless, sitting on the stones in his socks and covered in suds, all of his tools bludgeons where a gentle hand was needed. And that he should be so grateful for Aurelie’s calm, even voice, the warm hold of her eyes on the boy’s, a very different kind of discipline indeed.

“Mum said to stay away, if we saw you,” Peter blurted out, then reddened. “She said you weren’t one of us. You don’t – you look…” He bit his bottom lip. “You look like – well… I just thought maybe there were some people who just…”

Morandi was gritting his teeth tightly.

“Sha-dow,” giggled Ginny.

“I don’t want them to take you away, neither, Miss Aurelie,” he said, taking a hesitant step closer, watching Ginny and pup. He paused at the edge of Morandi’s field, growing a little pale; he took another step in, his eyes wide. “Me and Tommy and a bunch of the others round here, we were going to go after you. We had a plan to sneak into the Vineyard and break you out and everything –”

Morandi stifled a noise.

“– even if that evil golly got one of us, to distract him – we decided that should be Mason, you know, who smells,” Peter said, looking at Aurelie earnestly. “But then Charlotte dobbed to Tommy’s mum, and Tommy’s mum told everybody.”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Roalis 29, 2720 - Afternoon
The Good Pan Bakery

Not looking away from Peter proved difficult in unexpected ways. Her nerves were only one of many problems. There was also the singularly distracting force of Ginny's delight in Shadow's damp attentions. What did either of them care, girl or puppy, for anything else when they had each other to play with? There was something so singularly sweet about it, Aurelie could hardly keep her attention on Peter.

There was also, of course, Desiderio.

Aurelie had almost expected him to stop her. She doubted he would have approved of her telling Peter the truth if she'd asked him first. Honestly, Aurelie hardly approved herself. She simply felt she owed it to the child, if she were going to put him and his sister in danger simply by being here. Children his age were more canny than people gave them credit for; not quite adults, but not babies either. Aurelie had spent more time with children like Peter than ones like Ginny. Better that she should know that this wouldn't work now, when it wouldn't hurt too much to find another way if she had to.

Desiderio said nothing. There was something of trust in that, too, she thought. Perhaps that was absurd. She was touched anyway. Peter's eyes widened, and he frowned. Aurelie held her breath. For a moment the only sounds were Ginny's peals of laughter and Shadow's happy panting. A family dog. Perhaps, if she couldn't— If Desiderio couldn't— No; she was getting ahead of herself.

It was Peter who mattered now, not any of her silly thoughts and feelings about dogs and children and Desiderio, separately or together. Ginny was too young to understand, really, and distracted by Shadow besides. Aurelie didn't flinch when Peter spoke; she was a little proud of herself for it, because it hurt terribly.

"Some people do," she said evenly, her smile not faltering. If it was a lie, she didn't know it for sure. People looked many ways—even like her, she thought, without being what she was. "But I'm not one of them," she added, soft. Understanding, she hoped, of what would be a reasonable fear.

Peter took a step forward, and then another. Oh, but he looked so terrified! Of her, or of Desiderio? Did it matter? He was such a brave boy, to come anyway. Aurelie's heart filled up with something else, different than before. Did he not? What had she done to earn such loyalty? Nothing special, as far as she knew. Aurelie drew a sharp intake of breath at the mention of the Vineyard.

"Good," she said, sharper than she meant. The thought of Peter, with Tommy and Mason and Charlotte—it was almost sweeter than she could bear. Certainly sweeter than she deserved. They could have been hurt, or worse! And for what? For an inevitable conclusion that she was merely postponing every moment she was here? She was glad, fiercely so, that Charlotte had told Tommy's mother.

"That was very brave of you," she relented, "but please—don't do something like that! Not for me." I don't deserve it, she didn't add. She would hate to cheapen his emotions with the statement. And she was touched. The "everyone" gave her more than a little pause, but there was nothing to be done about that now. The boy, focus on the boy.

"But I'm all right now. Des is..." Aurelie trailed off, looking at him. He was many things; a danger to these children, though? Aurelie studied him a moment. "Not going to hurt you either. Shadow might lick Ginny's face right off if we don't rescue her though," she said with a little grin, gesturing to his sister and the puppy. Her poor dress was ruined; she would have to find a way to apologize to their mother.

She didn't ask him, in the end, to keep it a secret. He either would or he would not. Aurelie thought he was old enough to make that choice. She had the strangest flash of Desiderio at this age. They had nothing in common, of course, but she simply couldn't help it.

"Should we rinse him off now together?" She asked Desiderio, her voice deliberately light.

[Desiderio Morandi]

above the good pan, old rose harbor

morning on the 29th of roalis, 2720

A

urelie had not flinched. In fact, her expression scarcely changed at all when the boy spoke.

There were a great deal of things Morandi had not considered. That she had had to pass herself off as one of them, he supposed he had – in a brief, practical sort of way, with a faint note of disdain for their kind. As was proper. This was an altogether different angle. He could not summon up quite all of his disdain. On the contrary, he had not a single clue what to call what he felt.

Other than that he thought it must have hurt to hear that. For a moment, he was aware of…

These people had no love of him, but he could at least be proud among his own. Could have. Before, he thought slowly, with the beginnings of a chill, he had become wanted himself for assault of a magister and the kidnap of a gated passive, and on suspicions no doubt of much worse.

And her? Among which people could she be proud?

And so when she went on, admitting it almost in so many words, he looked down. He was hopelessly confused. There was that wretched lump again in his throat. Quite a horrible habit. He had not felt so unsure of himself since he was a boy; he had tried very hard to prevent this.

It was only when the boy came closer that he heard a note of sharpness in Aurelie’s voice, and he looked up. He watched her as she spoke; his brow furrowed, and he looked at the boy Peter, who was pouting and looking wont to argue.

But no less hesitant to come closer, even as his expression darkened at not for me. Was it only of him that Peter was afraid? Morandi thought not. He thought again of her amid the warding circles. There was something horribly wrong about it, thinking of his Aurelie like that. But how otherwise–?

Morandi could not meet Aurelie’s eye when she looked at him. He felt the weight of her gaze. Des is – what?

He breathed out. He thought, That is not a promise which either of us can make. But there was less tension in his field now, and while he did not feel entirely safe, there were no longer spells on the very tip of his tongue.

Ginny was laughing still, whooping. Her face was thoroughly covered in Shadow’s slobber. “That is indeed a danger,” he put in dryly. He had no smile to match Aurelie’s grin, and could not manage her lightness, but he tried desperately to relax. “Yes. Let us together,” he began awkwardly.

He shifted, beginning to push himself up on one soapy hand. And Peter jumped – flinched back, pale face tight, his jaw still thrust out. He was achingly aware of Aurelie in the corner of his eye.

Morandi frowned down for a moment, coming to a standstill. Shadow looked up and back, ears pricked, then turned and licked the human girl’s face a little more. “Shadow, come,” he said firmly, and to his surprise, Shadow’s head came up – but pup did not yet come over.

He glanced over at Aurelie, hopeful.

Then up at Peter, trying to loosen the tightness of his jaw. “Is this the bravery with which you and your friends were planning to steal into Graywatch?” he blurted out, sharp and harsh.

He had meant to be – teasing, perhaps. To put the child at ease.

Peter looked too alarmed to respond.

“Ah.” He shifted on his haunches. “I mean to say. Perhaps you and Ginny should like to help us rinse Shadow. And so you can decide for yourself –” He swallowed. Peter shifted uncomfortably, looking wide-eyed at Aurelie.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Roalis 29, 2720 - Afternoon
The Good Pan Bakery

Peter was afraid of her. Aurelie could see it plain on his face, in the way he came no closer than he had as he spoke about their plan to rescue her from Graywatch. (What a brave, foolish plan that had been!) It twisted in her, even as she thought that it was proper and sensible of him to treat her with caution. The lie of her promise not to hurt him or his sister sat bitter and unpleasant on her tongue. If it were up to her—but it wasn't. Not really.

Ginny was fearless in that way that Aurelie thought was reserved for the very young. What did questions of Aurelie's nature or even Desiderio's field matter when there was a puppy to be played with? Aurelie was just as grateful for that fearlessness as she was for Peter's more considered bravery. As she was, ultimately, for his caution too. There was something relaxing in it, despite her fretting over the state of Ginny's poor dress.

So, they could perhaps rinse Shadow off together, and that would be something. A little piece of fearlessness in the face of all this tension. Desiderio's field was less hot than it had been; Aurelie was grateful for that as well. He didn't smile at her, or at the children. Still, he responded in that dry way of his that Aurelie was starting to recognize as him making a joke. She relaxed a little more.

Peter had not relaxed at all. In fact, when Desiderio moved, Peter flinched back, tight-jawed and fearful. Too adult to show it fully, Aurelie thought with an ache, thinking of some of the children she had known. Aurelie couldn't deny that the caution, the fear, was fair—no matter which of them the boy directed it at—but she wanted more than anything for it not to be.

Desiderio froze in place, and that made her ache too. How did he feel—about Peter and Ginny, about any of this? Animals didn't much like him, he'd said—and children? Somehow, she didn't think he spent much time around children of any age. The life he had started to describe didn't sound as if it left room for it.

(Even now, even in the middle of all this, Aurelie found herself thinking of hours spent in Briarwood with swaddled stuffed toys, playing at family. He was going to have a real family, soon enough. The thought was like pressing on a bruise, painful and compelling.)

Just because he wasn't used to children now didn't mean that wouldn't change. Already, he was bonding with Shadow. That large head came up, turning to Desiderio when he called—if, admittedly, not to do as he was bid. Aurelie wasn't sure he knew the command anyway. Desiderio always sounded firm and commanding—how was Shadow to know what was a direction and what wasn't? They would have to work on it, she thought absently. To her surprise, Desiderio turned to look at her, and there was something hopeful in his face.

"Shadow," she called again, as firm as Desiderio had been. She snapped her fingers in unconscious imitation of Mr. Whitmore. Shadow barked happily, but he did come over. Ginny sat up, looking as if she might pout or protest. "You too, Ginny, if you'd like." She tried to keep her voice encouraging, but she was watching Desiderio and Peter out of the corner of her eye.

Ah. They would have to work on that, too. What on Vita had compelled him to say...? Nevermind, because whatever the intent, the effect it had on the boy was only to cause him further alarm. Aurelie opened her mouth to intervene, but Desiderio shifted and tried again. He was trying, she realized, to be—kind, she thought. Had he always had to work so hard at it? Aurelie didn't think so. (The effort touched her all the same, and muddled her heart in a way she knew she couldn't really afford.)

"Peter—" Aurelie swallowed; her voice came out tight, threaded through with worry. It wasn't only Desiderio who scared him, she knew that. Had known it the whole time, but it was undeniable now as she looked into his face that was just starting to emerge from childhood proper. How many of them would look at her like this now? What of the children who came to the door every night, of the people she had only just started to...?

No. She couldn't think on that now. Shadow was happy at least, investigating the tub of water again. It was cooling as they spoke. They did rather need to get on with it, no matter... No matter what else she might be feeling or wanting.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," she began again, after a pause to steady herself. "But I should like to be your—your friend, still. And he is a large puppy," she added with a little smile. "The extra hands would be helpful."

[Desiderio Morandi]

above the good pan, old rose harbor

morning on the 29th of roalis, 2720

A

snap of Aurelie’s fingers, and Shadow barked and wagged his tail – but he came. It reminded Morandi of nothing more than Mr. Whitmore, especially in the Roalis warmth; it was the queerest echo of a different time. He could almost remember the surge of happiness and wonder he had felt when he had been handed a squirming pup, all warmth and quick, eager heartbeat, and he had felt a little tongue lapping at his face, in spite of all his worries about cleanliness.

Aurelie’s voice was strained, when she spoke again. Peter was looking at her.

Morandi frowned over, his brow furrowed. Friend. He looked back at the boy, whose expression he could no longer read. “Um,” he said.

“Puppy!” Ginny was climbing to her feet hurriedly after Shadow, and dusting her dress off in that haphazard, unconcerned way of children.

Most children, at any rate. He remembered how careful Aurelie had been about her skirts, despite how often she seemed to smudge or get dust on them after all. She had been so careful about so many things; so had he, he supposed, in a different sort of way. They had neither one of them much liked to get into trouble. It was horribly ironic, now, all things given.

“I-I want to,” Peter said, though he came no closer. “Be your friend, Miss Aurelie. Still. Even if –” He looked down for a long moment. He did not jump this time when Morandi got back to his feet, but he did look up.

His own teeth were grit. He forced them to loosen. It was as if in the air a breath was held. “I should,” he grated, stilted and awkward, “also like to be. Your friend.”

Peter looked mildly afraid, and said nothing.

Shadow’s fur was tangled and thick with suds. He was bulky even wet, especially about the shoulders and neck. But there again – more obviously – were the shapes of his ribs, and his tail was rather amusingly skinny without its fluff. “Shadow looks silly,” giggled Ginny.

But she moved back, too, as he picked up the laundry tub again. He did not look at them or at Aurelie, or anywhere, as he poured warm water over Shadow, careful not to slip too much. To his surprise, Shadow flopped and rolled, panting delightedly.

Ginny giggled again, though her eyes were still very wide. She was closer to her brother. “Why’s the scary man dressed like that?” she whispered. “Why does he have long hair like –”

“Hush, Ginny,” Peter whispered back, no less loudly.

When he set down the laundry tub, he crouched beside it and took up the cloth again. Across Shadow, he looked at Aurelie; he met her eye, then began scrubbing, with the precise careful rhythm of before.

Ginny came closer first, squeezing in beside Aurelie. She was petting Shadow more than helping to rinse him, but Shadow was helpfully distracted by her attentions.

Peter watched for a long time as they rinsed Shadow off, until his fur was heavily soaked and he smelled of nothing more than violets. Morandi stood and went to get a towel from the washroom.

When he came back, Peter had come a little closer. He darted a nervous glance at Morandi, but then crouched nearby Aurelie, reaching out to pet Shadow very tentatively. Morandi hung back a little with the dry towels, just beyond field range.

“Would it hurt, Miss Aurelie?” he asked suddenly. “If you – I mean – you know. I-If it happened. It’s just, Mum said – d-d’you know?”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Roalis 29, 2720 - Afternoon
The Good Pan Bakery

"Even if," Peter had started to say. He stopped himself, but Aurelie hardly needed him to continue. He stayed where he was, looking away and down. It hit her in a way that was painful and familiar; the pain was tangled up in the familiarity. It had been a long time since someone had looked at her like that. Aurelie had almost forgotten, or so she might have liked.

Ginny leapt to her feet and bounded after Shadow; there was a smear of mud at her hem. Aurelie caught herself halfway to fretting over the state of it out loud, and forced herself to let it go. Ginny's clothes were of sturdier, easier-to-wash stuff than the delicate white dresses of her childhood. (And, more importantly, it was hardly her place to fuss over someone else's washing.)

Aurelie turned to look at Desiderio when he came to his feet, taking her eyes away from Peter's solemn, unsure face. Peter turned as well, but he didn't jump or move away. She took that as an encouraging sign. Desiderio too seemed unsure—tense and coiled, like a dog that couldn't decide if it should bite.

Her eyes widened at the edges when he spoke again, stiff and not at all the way one generally spoke to a child. But, oh, the words themselves were... Terrible affection welled up in her. As awkwardly delivered as it had been, and as unmoved as poor Peter was, Aurelie could hear no lie in it. She had the most awful urge to take his hand.

"Good, then," she breathed, warmly and with feeling. She couldn't decide who her smile was most for, and in the end she thought it didn't matter. This was hardly a solution to the problem, but Aurelie felt that much lighter. Like it was an effort they were making together, not just Aurelie struggling with it alone. That was foolish and perhaps arrogant, but comforting still.

Ginny giggled, and Aurelie did too, looking at the girl and the pup. Shadow did look absolutely silly, water making the fur stick to his ribs. (That was worrying, as well, but she knew there was no cure for that but time and regular feeding.) His head and shoulders were still thick, and his eyes bright. The way his tongue lolled out of his mouth lent him no dignity at all. "Very silly," she agreed, moving slightly out of the way with Ginny. She stuck her arm out to scoot the girl back, although she very obligingly stepped back on her own accord.

Once again, Aurelie was rather struck by how easy that seemed to be for him to lift. It was just because it was such a change from the rather more delicate boy he had been, that was all. She wondered abstractly what Ana would have made of it, although she thought she knew now that it was nothing about Desiderio specifically that Ana hadn't liked.

The water splashed out into the alley, running over Shadow's fur and down into the cobblestones. It wasn't just Ginny's dress that was taking abuse today; poor Desiderio's socks were absolutely soaked through and filthy. She wondered if socks were too intimate a gift to accept from a friend—she did feel slightly responsible for their ruin. Shadow's excited panting did nothing to drown out the sound of the two children's not-particularly-quiet whispering; Aurelie's eyes flicked to Desiderio, somewhere between tense and apologetic. But if he made anything of it, he didn't show it on his face.

"Thank you Ginny," Aurelie said dutifully, although she was really more petting than helping. That was all right—it kept him suitably entertained while she and Desiderio got the soap out of Shadow's fur. Peter didn't come any closer at all; Aurelie tried not to let it bother her too much. She was only partially successful. Well, she had told him that he didn't have to do anything he didn't want to do, and she had meant it.

To her surprise, when Desiderio got up to fetch a dry towel from inside, Peter came a bit closer. Was it Desiderio, after all, who he was...? No; that was wishful thinking, and unkind. Perhaps it was only that the two of them in combination was too much for the boy at one time. She smiled encouragingly at him as he came closer; she heard the door open but didn't turn to look. "Shadow smells much better now, don't you think?" Ginny giggled again, and Shadow hit her with a sopping wet tail.

A wince passed over her face at the question. She couldn't seem to help it. People rarely asked so plainly, after all. Their lack of social graces was one of the things that Aurelie liked about children, but it certainly... There were drawbacks as well. Aurelie frowned, thinking how best to answer him.

"Yes," she said simply, once again choosing not to lie. "But not forever. For Des— Mr. Morandi—" Aurelie stumbled; she hadn't meant to bring that up. Her throat closed up. She had been kneeling with her hands on Shadow's back before. Aurelie folded her hands in front of her now, clasping them together tight enough to bring the network of small scars on the backs of them into stark relief. Her shoulders slumped down.

"I don't mean to frighten you," she went on, as steadily as she was able, "I only think that it's fair that you know. It may never happen." Again, she did not add.