AT LEAST WHEN SPRING COMES THEY ROAR BACK AGAIN
One must not forget the wickedness of children. Fear is learned, after all.
That is why when Oliver looks at her he does not see a blade, or a lion, or a weapon. He sees a woman that reminds him of a falcon, or a flame, or something else beautiful but only slightly dangerous. He sees a flame that might burst out of control, or a falcon that might fly away, but not a beast capable of consuming him.
Or maybe, he thinks, as she draws near, she reminds him as a cobra dancing to a flute.
The difference is she is whispering to him, I am not yours to name and her blade of a tail sighs with her voice. Oliver says with that easygoing smile, “My bad. Can I catch your name, then?”
When she demands, sing, it is in a way Oliver has never been told to sing. The boy’s smile is as bright and wide as her blade, although better sense tells him, slow, slow, back away in the same way his nannie used to warn him against stray dogs and feral beasts.
The guitar begins before him, a strum-strum-strum that parts the violent light of the evening like a cry. Oliver begins to sing:
“ We’re all just debt collectors
in an absence of grace
Showing up to your birthday party
just to show off our face
Get your mind off it, boy
There’s room to grow.”
The crowd, by now, has departed. It is them, alone, and his voice the only thing between them. Oliver sings as he would sing for anyone; not as if he were terrified, not as if his blood rose higher than his voice.
“Like ooh la la la, ooh la, I know why you like death
‘Cause when you get in trouble, pulled under rubble
You want something else
Learn how to operate us
Feel like you’re just passing through
But Everyone I know loves you
Get your life right
There’s so much more—"
Oliver cuts off abruptly. “Hey now, aren’t you the Regent?” He should probably know something like that, being native to Delumine and all, but sometimes these things escape Oliver. He adds, more conversationally—and nearly politely: “If I had known, I’d have brought my violin instead. It’s fancier.” In another tone of voice, it might have come across as sarcastic; in Oliver’s, it is genuine, and earnest, and vaguely disappointed in himself.
@Thana || "Speech" || Songs: Death by Mt. Joy
