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Silly, Simple Nonsense

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He'd crept off, again. The White Lady was on her way. Her eye was open and when she looked up on her children, she'd see the mischief they'd gotten up to while she slept.

But the funny thing was, they tended to be well to do when her eye was closed or even just half open. It was only when she looked at them, really looked at them, that she'd see them misbehave. Levi wondered if perhaps they were all just jealous for her attention, and perhaps that's what made them act out.

Silly, simple nonsense. He wrinkled his nose and snorted. He was better at making friends with shadows on the wall than living, breathing people of flesh and bone.

Why was that? The shadows on the wall certainly judged him as harshly. Perhaps more.

Shadows on the wall said his poetry wasn't any good, and they were right. Why did he write it then, if he was simply going to crumple the paper and throw it away?

To bleed out the ache, he supposed. Abstract words and colors he could finger paint with, like a child, to express all that he felt inside. It would never come close. But there was some satisfaction in trying.

Hello, little bird. Once again he's come up empty. He's turned his pockets out. Reep. Weep. Sleep. Wake to kick the grass and wander. You're blind. Arms outstretched, eyes covered in the dark. What are you searching for? Grasp at shadows. Gasp, stumble, and fall. Silly bird. Perhaps you've found it after all.

The evening wore on. It found him at times writing, at times just listening, long black ears focused up at the cabin above him. The creak of the building settling against Earth's rotation. Feet padding against oak floors. The clicks of claws. Muffled voices. He could make out what they said, if he cared to. And he did. He always listened to everything. From under the porch, he could hear things inside as well as outside. It was as good a place as any to await the night.

Little weeping bird, out of eye's way, don't you know? The sparrow never falls alone.

Ulric had come back to the clearing with a sense of needing to be present. But when he arrived, he found things well in hand. Kratos was tending to Saber, and Logan was watching after the children. Theo was minding the fish, and Bianca was minding her grandfather. The Svalnaglas captives were captives still. So, why did he feel like he needed to be here?

Ulric had turned a few circles in the clearing, thinking perhaps that Timothy was the cause for it. But Timothy was nowhere to be seen, and Ulric had no mind to track him after the morning's affairs. So Ulric sat down on the porch, content to loiter until he was needed. When then, he noticed, as if by random chance or curiosity, a crawl space under the cabin...

Ulric knit his brow and stood up to look. He had never noticed the crawl space before. For some reason, he felt awfully curious about it. Perhaps, Timothy was down there... Ulric got off the porch and began a quiet search for an opening of some kind, and lo and behold he found one, around back of the house, under the upstairs hall window on the eastward side. So, he got down on his hands and knees, and looked in...

"Levi?"

He said nothing. With any luck, the one who had nothing to say when they drove into town to deposit the "rabbit" in the park would have nothing to say now.

He did not have to pretend to be engrossed in writing, for he was. Yet, his ears betrayed him and still flicked responsively in the direction of Ulric's voice.

There as either a breath, shallow and out of rhythm, or a sigh. It was hard to determine which it was. It may even have been a yawn. Who could say?

Levi could. The thought of ignoring Ulric, vindicated a moment ago, suddenly filled him with wrenching guilt.

He cleared his throat and coughed a little. "Y-yes? Oh, Ulric, sorry, issat you?" He closed his little notebook and set it aside. "Sorry, sorry. I was, eh, readin'. Writin', rather. Cannae help you, with, er, something?"

Ulric felt a strange air in that remark. It seemed to say, 'please go away.' And Ulric wanted to, but sometimes his heart led him into uncomfortable places.

"I was just looking around..." He said softly. "Eh, what are you doing under here?"

Hearing the awkwardness in Ulric's voice, together with genuine concern, Levi again felt guilty for having wanted to push him away, even if only for a moment.

"Eh, it's a safe place, I s'pose," he said, trying to make himself relax. "Quiet, sheltered, but I can still hear what everyone else is up to. I suppose we all get a wee bit antsy 'fore the Moon rises, eh?"

He shrugged. "Er, what're you doin' lookin' around down here for? Nottae sound rude."

Antsy? What was antsy but another name for excitement, even if mingled with a touch of anxiety? Ulric never knew to be anxious for a full moon until he came to live here, under the shadow of the north mountain. But there was no point in disagreeing.

"I don't know." Ulric answered honestly. "Just a feeling, I guess. Are you... alright?"

"Right as rain." How easily that lie fell from his lips, which curled in a convincing smile. "I jest... I'm not the best in crowds."

"Oh, okay. I guess if you're good, I'll let you get back to writing then." Ulric smiled and shrugged to pardon himself. Levi seemed... down. But it wasn't Ulric's place to pry. A few questions more, perhaps, might discover it. But what questions could be asked under the circumstances?

There was that awkward silence, when Ulric seemed for a moment like he'd be going, but did not shuffle off. Levi supposed he ought to invite him to stay. And what a funny feeling that was. Oh yes, would you like to stay here under the porch with me so we can sit awkwardly in each other's company?

He hadn't a mind to either endure or inflict that kind of torture. Yet, there they were, in awkward silence anyway, and, as though in a game of chess, the next move seemed to rest squarely on Levi's shoulders.

He cleared his throat. "You, uhm--donnae haft'a go. I was... done, with writin' that is. S'pose I may as well come out now. Say, moon's almost up, innit?"

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