Early hours of the morning on January 25, 2015
The walk home from The Arena consisted of a game of ?Guess That Note? which had the Cajun humming various notes for Aoife to guess. She was an excellent learner, as pointed out in previous lessons. ?Guess That Note? was a game that ended before it had even begun as it was one she often played herself. The game turned into ?Guess Those Notes? rather quickly. When the tune switched to notes in succession, her ear for mimicking was undeniable. Cane would start, and Aoife would chase, though she did stumble at times when it came to naming.
After they arrived at Casa del Brujo, Canaan was firm but gentle with her when he told her no stars; that his house was a glitter-free zone and instructed the songbird to tuck her handful of sparkle stars away or get rid of them. She spent the better part of a minute staring at him before she overturned her palm full of sparkles she?d collected earlier from his beard and let them float down to settle on his front stoop. There was a point where she thought he was either going to laugh or possibly push her down the stairs. But instead, he opened his door and invited her inside.
Aoife set her travel mug on his coffee table, next to the book he?d carried back for her. The title was in a language she didn?t know, the words inside she didn?t understand. She?d found it like she found all others by haunting stores with books and pulling those at random. One day she?d ask where the music books were kept.
Canaan set her up on the couch, then left her with the intention of making the glitter Evelyn covered him with earlier that evening disappear and entirely missed the songbird?s secret smile behind his back.
He spent quite a while in the bathroom trying to scrub the stuff out of his hair and beard to no avail. The shower ran for almost an hour before the Cajun got out, at which point Aoife heard his distressed, ?Jesus ****ing Christ? from behind the closed door.
For the duration of his feeble attempts at making stardust lose its luster, she?d washed out her mug and set it on the counter to dry. She skimmed the counter lightly with her fingers vaguely remembering a sugar spell cast in rose petals. She wandered. She looked. She touched as if it were her very first time there. Come the point of his colorful use of words, she?d been perched in the center of the couch flipping through the pages of her book. Her chin caught her shoulder when she looked at the bathroom door. Trickling fingers of steam reached from beneath it.
After some shuffling, the bathroom door opened abruptly and Cane strode from the room with purpose. Though most of the glitter was gone, yes, it still sparkled throughout the dirty blond strands both atop his head and on his face. He looked rather severe when he burst into the room, but the expression faltered and washed out at the sight of Aoife there on the couch looking at him.
?I need scissors,? he muttered, disappearing into the kitchen. A drawer opened, was rifled through, and promptly shut with force before he reemerged holding the shears. It wasn?t until the bathroom door was nearly shut that Canaan realized how incredibly rude he was being. The scissors clattered against the counter and he wandered back into the living room to apologize.
?I?m sorry.? The Cajun?s shoulders sagged a little as he leaned on the back of the chair. ?I could give ya yer lesson now, if ya wan?. Shavin? dis off?s gon? take a while.?
There hadn?t been a blink from the songbird from the moment the bathroom door was thrown open to the moment it swung shut. He was clearly upset with his efforts and she found herself smiling for it. Cane was so swept up in his determination that she counted herself lucky she hadn?t been caught. A clatter from the bathroom and she bit her tongue sharply, wincing from the pain, wiping her lips free of evidence by the time he came back out to catch the chair in a lean.
?You?re going to shave it off with scissors?? She asked. Her words may have sounded a bit swollen from the way she nursed her wound.
He blinked at her. ?No. But it?s too long ta hack at wit? a razor. Gotta cut it down firs?.?
Flecks of silver winked at her in the light. Aoife pulled her lips in to keep from smiling again. So much for the tiny indents in her cheeks. Her gaze lowered. Big mistake. He was only wearing a towel that was held up by the suggestion of his hips.
S'il vous pla?t.
She spent more time than she should have meeting his eyes again. ?Do you have a straight blade?? Pink was pretty on her cheeks.
When the songbird?s eyes lowered, the grip Canaan had on said towel tightened marginally and his chin lifted by a fraction of an inch. ?Yeah. I?m usually too lazy ta take da time ta use it, d?oh.?
?Steady hands. You won?t need scissors.? She spoke of such a thing as if she had experience. Her words fell in a way that sounded slow motion careful, tip-toe steps and chosen right.
Canaan snorted. ?Wit? how worked up I am, I?m more like ta nick an? artery an? kill m?self.?
?I can do it for you.? The words were out before Hesitation even had a chance to whisper in her ear. She held her hands out, palm up. Stillness, she was the picture of serenity. The book, silly thing, slid right off her lap and onto the floor with a soft thud. Aoife squinted one eye and gave up a smile for the Cajun. It was one of those almost but not quites.
It was such an odd offer that Cane could not help the short burst of amused noise that tumbled out of his mouth. Chagrined with himself, he lowered his eyes to the chair and drummed the fingers of his free hand along the back of it. ?Alrigh, if ya wan. ?M gonna go put some pants on firs?.? The Cajun wandered away again, this time into the bedroom to at least get dressed halfway. Then, barefoot, he padded back into the bathroom to dig around under the sink for his bag of shaving tools.
Aoife blinked at his back when he left, truly surprised he agreed. Again, she watched him wander to and fro in the silence that surrounded her.
?Did?ja wanna do dis in here ?r in da kitchen, Aoife?? Muffled words, swallowed by the seemingly cavernous storage space. No wonder Rekah was able to hide in there sometimes.
She leaned off to the side to retrieve the book from the floor and set it on the table. ?Mmm,? she hummed through her thoughts and a curl of her spine when she rose. By now, Aoife had realized that he said her name more often than not with purpose. Not only was it associated with a feeling, there was also a pull inside of her. But he didn?t need to know that; not yet. It was what she was going to keep telling herself.
Her eyes ticked to the bathroom door then swept toward the kitchen. ?Where do you like your messes?? Now that was a loaded question.
?In bed,? he responded without missing a beat. The Cajun appeared in the doorway, grinning. ?I?m kiddin?. In here?s fine.? Cane jerked his thumb back into the bathroom, but moved to get a chair from out of the kitchen.
The songbird?s cup had runneth over with smiles that night. They had been coming one after the other so soon after she?d thought she?d lost it. Each one wore something different though, the one that followed him into the kitchen was certainly etched in a flash of nerves. She avoided looking at the bedroom door completely when she passed the crossroads of rooms and slipped into the bathroom.
The walk home from The Arena consisted of a game of ?Guess That Note? which had the Cajun humming various notes for Aoife to guess. She was an excellent learner, as pointed out in previous lessons. ?Guess That Note? was a game that ended before it had even begun as it was one she often played herself. The game turned into ?Guess Those Notes? rather quickly. When the tune switched to notes in succession, her ear for mimicking was undeniable. Cane would start, and Aoife would chase, though she did stumble at times when it came to naming.
After they arrived at Casa del Brujo, Canaan was firm but gentle with her when he told her no stars; that his house was a glitter-free zone and instructed the songbird to tuck her handful of sparkle stars away or get rid of them. She spent the better part of a minute staring at him before she overturned her palm full of sparkles she?d collected earlier from his beard and let them float down to settle on his front stoop. There was a point where she thought he was either going to laugh or possibly push her down the stairs. But instead, he opened his door and invited her inside.
Aoife set her travel mug on his coffee table, next to the book he?d carried back for her. The title was in a language she didn?t know, the words inside she didn?t understand. She?d found it like she found all others by haunting stores with books and pulling those at random. One day she?d ask where the music books were kept.
Canaan set her up on the couch, then left her with the intention of making the glitter Evelyn covered him with earlier that evening disappear and entirely missed the songbird?s secret smile behind his back.
He spent quite a while in the bathroom trying to scrub the stuff out of his hair and beard to no avail. The shower ran for almost an hour before the Cajun got out, at which point Aoife heard his distressed, ?Jesus ****ing Christ? from behind the closed door.
For the duration of his feeble attempts at making stardust lose its luster, she?d washed out her mug and set it on the counter to dry. She skimmed the counter lightly with her fingers vaguely remembering a sugar spell cast in rose petals. She wandered. She looked. She touched as if it were her very first time there. Come the point of his colorful use of words, she?d been perched in the center of the couch flipping through the pages of her book. Her chin caught her shoulder when she looked at the bathroom door. Trickling fingers of steam reached from beneath it.
After some shuffling, the bathroom door opened abruptly and Cane strode from the room with purpose. Though most of the glitter was gone, yes, it still sparkled throughout the dirty blond strands both atop his head and on his face. He looked rather severe when he burst into the room, but the expression faltered and washed out at the sight of Aoife there on the couch looking at him.
?I need scissors,? he muttered, disappearing into the kitchen. A drawer opened, was rifled through, and promptly shut with force before he reemerged holding the shears. It wasn?t until the bathroom door was nearly shut that Canaan realized how incredibly rude he was being. The scissors clattered against the counter and he wandered back into the living room to apologize.
?I?m sorry.? The Cajun?s shoulders sagged a little as he leaned on the back of the chair. ?I could give ya yer lesson now, if ya wan?. Shavin? dis off?s gon? take a while.?
There hadn?t been a blink from the songbird from the moment the bathroom door was thrown open to the moment it swung shut. He was clearly upset with his efforts and she found herself smiling for it. Cane was so swept up in his determination that she counted herself lucky she hadn?t been caught. A clatter from the bathroom and she bit her tongue sharply, wincing from the pain, wiping her lips free of evidence by the time he came back out to catch the chair in a lean.
?You?re going to shave it off with scissors?? She asked. Her words may have sounded a bit swollen from the way she nursed her wound.
He blinked at her. ?No. But it?s too long ta hack at wit? a razor. Gotta cut it down firs?.?
Flecks of silver winked at her in the light. Aoife pulled her lips in to keep from smiling again. So much for the tiny indents in her cheeks. Her gaze lowered. Big mistake. He was only wearing a towel that was held up by the suggestion of his hips.
S'il vous pla?t.
She spent more time than she should have meeting his eyes again. ?Do you have a straight blade?? Pink was pretty on her cheeks.
When the songbird?s eyes lowered, the grip Canaan had on said towel tightened marginally and his chin lifted by a fraction of an inch. ?Yeah. I?m usually too lazy ta take da time ta use it, d?oh.?
?Steady hands. You won?t need scissors.? She spoke of such a thing as if she had experience. Her words fell in a way that sounded slow motion careful, tip-toe steps and chosen right.
Canaan snorted. ?Wit? how worked up I am, I?m more like ta nick an? artery an? kill m?self.?
?I can do it for you.? The words were out before Hesitation even had a chance to whisper in her ear. She held her hands out, palm up. Stillness, she was the picture of serenity. The book, silly thing, slid right off her lap and onto the floor with a soft thud. Aoife squinted one eye and gave up a smile for the Cajun. It was one of those almost but not quites.
It was such an odd offer that Cane could not help the short burst of amused noise that tumbled out of his mouth. Chagrined with himself, he lowered his eyes to the chair and drummed the fingers of his free hand along the back of it. ?Alrigh, if ya wan. ?M gonna go put some pants on firs?.? The Cajun wandered away again, this time into the bedroom to at least get dressed halfway. Then, barefoot, he padded back into the bathroom to dig around under the sink for his bag of shaving tools.
Aoife blinked at his back when he left, truly surprised he agreed. Again, she watched him wander to and fro in the silence that surrounded her.
?Did?ja wanna do dis in here ?r in da kitchen, Aoife?? Muffled words, swallowed by the seemingly cavernous storage space. No wonder Rekah was able to hide in there sometimes.
She leaned off to the side to retrieve the book from the floor and set it on the table. ?Mmm,? she hummed through her thoughts and a curl of her spine when she rose. By now, Aoife had realized that he said her name more often than not with purpose. Not only was it associated with a feeling, there was also a pull inside of her. But he didn?t need to know that; not yet. It was what she was going to keep telling herself.
Her eyes ticked to the bathroom door then swept toward the kitchen. ?Where do you like your messes?? Now that was a loaded question.
?In bed,? he responded without missing a beat. The Cajun appeared in the doorway, grinning. ?I?m kiddin?. In here?s fine.? Cane jerked his thumb back into the bathroom, but moved to get a chair from out of the kitchen.
The songbird?s cup had runneth over with smiles that night. They had been coming one after the other so soon after she?d thought she?d lost it. Each one wore something different though, the one that followed him into the kitchen was certainly etched in a flash of nerves. She avoided looking at the bedroom door completely when she passed the crossroads of rooms and slipped into the bathroom.