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Post by ActuallyFace on Jul 26, 2014 16:58:41 GMT -8
Wendy's life was a confusing one, from the very beginning. Or, rather close to the beginning, anyway; it started with an initial confusion, when he began to grow old enough and conscious enough of himself to understand slightly more complex ideas, like gender. With a certainty that something in the fact that his mother always put him in dresses and pink things when he was young was somehow wrong, that he wasn't meant to play house and have tea parties with the little girls at school, even though the teacher always told him that he wasn't meant to play tag and slay imaginary dragons with the little boys.
The next confusion came when he realized he didn't have a father, like most of the other children at school. And when he asked his mother why, she refused to explain, and her expression grew dark in a way Wendy associated most often with the sky. For reasons Wendy wasn't sure he could explain, this made him angry.
The third came much later, when his grandparents, the people he and his mother had been living with, disappeared one day while he was at school. He didn't see them after that. His mother, seeming sadder than he had ever seen her before, explained tearfully that they would never return; that they had moved on to be with the Vhil, the goddess of nothing. They were nothing too, now, she said. A state of peace. He wasn't sure how feeling nothing could be peaceful, but perhaps his grandparents thought it was, if that was what they had chosen. Or maybe it was only his mother that thought such a state could be peaceful. Whatever the case, this added a deep sadness to the mix of near-constant thoughts and underlying emotions that chased each other about inside of Wendy.
After that, things only grew more tangled up and confusing to Wendy. His mother needed time, she told him, to "figure things out". He didn't know what that meant to her, but to him it meant he would be going to stay in an orphanage until she thought she was ready to have him back; to, she said, give him the life she thought he deserved. Or try to. Wendy didn't quite understand that, didn't understand why she thought the life he deserved was one without her, but she talked about it like it would be better for him... and he trusted her, even though she seemed even more sad, now, than she had seemed even when his grandparents had disappeared.
She packed Wendy's things into a bag soon after that, and then took him to the church where the orphanage was; A church devoted to Baena, the goddess of family (among other things, but that was the thing he understood best). There were a lot of churches for Baena with orphanages, his mother had told him.
The church wasn't exactly grand, but it wasn't dirty, either... and Wendy's mother lead him through it to the part that housed the orphans and the women who watched them and cared for them. Her pace was unusually slow and reluctant, and aside from a cheery, warm string of words flowing constantly from her lips now, explaining all of the things she could think to explain in the church and talking about how good this would all be, she seemed sad. In fact, the words seemed sad as well; but not without some seed of hope, like she knew this wouldn't be so bad, was certain this was the absolute best option. Wendy held her hand tightly, partly to comfort her, and partly because he was terrified to leave her side in this strange place. Because he was afraid to leave her side for a long time, for what seemed to him like it would be forever.
He voiced this concern a few times, his voice high and frail and wet, like his eyes were wet, but his mother wouldn't listen. The first time she clucked and held him, and they cried for a while (he knew she was crying too, even though she tried to hide it; her tears were big and wet and cold in the crook of his neck and through his dark brown curls). She nodded when he tried to put into words why he was so afraid, why he was so sad, and then she made soft shushing noises and kissed the tears off of his round cheeks. Like she didn't know she was only replacing them with her own. Like she didn't know Wendy knew she was crying, too, and that the sadness in her heart matched his in size and shape and then grew with something even more bitter.
And then she stood up again, and kept walking with him, and every time he tried to tell her again why he was so afraid, she just whispered "I know, I know." And kept on walking.
And then they arrived.
It wasn't really much; just a big, open room with some scattered tables and chairs and dirty-looking books and toys. There was a staircase in one of the corners that he guessed lead up to the rooms the people here slept in. There were a bunch of children, from babies to big kids, some playing and laughing, some screaming, some just talking, and a only a couple sitting quietly alone with toys, playing by themselves. Wendy noticed only one child sitting still and silent with a book. About his age, it seemed...
After Wendy had taken all this in, he looked up at where his mother's face should be, and found that she was gone. She must have wandered off while he was looking at everything... not out of the church yet, though, surely? Not yet! Fear-stricken, Wendy cast his gaze around the room, and then sighed with some relief when he spotted his mother talking to some adult women on the other end of the room. They looked friendly and understanding, but she seemed... worried, somehow, and small. Smaller than his mother was supposed to look. She even had her palms splayed toward the ceiling, a gesture Wendy knew she often made when she felt her walls fall and wished for them to come back up.
He made his way through the hordes of children, careful to avoid larger groups, and wrapped his arms around her waist quietly, gazing up at the other women while they spoke. He wanted to comfort her. He wanted her to know that he was still there, that the moment of parting hadn't yet arrived, and that he wanted to stay with her until the last possible moment. He didn't like needing to comfort his mother when he himself felt he needed comfort, but he was strong. He would be strong.
The one who was talking paused when she noticed, and looked down at him. Her lips twisted upward into a smile that could have passed for sincere, except she was hunched over Wendy too much, looming. "Oh, this must be your little girl!" She exclaimed, and then reached a hand out as if to shake his hand. He eyed it warily for a moment, then retreated behind his mother a bit without a word. The woman stared at him for a beat, as if waiting for him to take the hand anyway, but Wendy made no move to accept the handshake. She nodded minutely, frowned just a bit, and the straightened. "Is she regularly so shy?" She asked his mother. Wendy's mother nodded, and gave the woman a look that Wendy couldn't see, but that the woman returned with a knowing smile. Wendy's mother took this as an opportunity to segue back to the conversation they were having before, and Wendy took to focusing on comforting his mother with little squeezes.
After a long time, the women finally wandered away to attend to other matters, and Wendy's mother crouched down to look at him at eye-level. She spoke some words to him, comforting, reassuring words he had heard a thousand times before but which comforted and soothed him anyway, and then she hugged him for a long time. When she finally pulled away, there were tears in her eyes again but she was smiling anyway. It looked less like a genuine smile, and more like a dam to keep the tears from flooding over. Wendy kissed her cheek, and said goodbye, and then she left.
Wendy stood there for a moment, biting back tears. A few slipped out anyway, though, and Wendy hiccuped a few times and hugged himself. He didn't want to cry in front of all of these new people, and he couldn't see a place to do it alone... He wasn't a baby any more, though. He wasn't supposed to cry. His mother wasn't crying. After a few moments of breathing like his mother taught him to when he was really upset, he felt he was calm enough to go looking for the bag of things his mother had sent to the orphanage with him.
Upon discovering that it was gone and deciding that one of the women must have taken it, Wendy cast his eyes about for something to do... everyone was paired up or in groups, though, and he didn't feel like trying to make new friends with so many people at once. Finally, he wandered over to the boy his own age, who was reading in the corner and seemed easy enough to approach right now, when Wendy wanted companionship more than he wanted fun. Maybe the boy could show him to where he had gotten his book, and Wendy could find one of his own to read with him. He thought that would be okay.
He stood over the other boy, curly brown hair in poofy, nonthreatening pigtails and icy blue eyes wide and wet with residual tears. He wasn't sure how to ask him anything... his mind was still mostly on his mother, despite the new spark of excitement at the idea of making a new friend and reading a new book. And after a moment, he finally gathered the courage, and spoke; "I'm Wendy." He declared, trying to put some confidence into his wavering voice. "Who're you? What're you reading?"
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Post by empyreanVisionary on Aug 30, 2014 21:52:17 GMT -8
There were probably about twenty five to thirty children in the main area of the orphanage, but it surely would have seemed like a horde to the small Wendy. There were all these children he wasn’t familiar with, and there was a certain insecurity one might feel in a group like this. All children had to face situations like this at one time, and it was in these moments that they tended to determine how they would respond in the future, how their personality would form. In Wendy’s case, he ended up choosing a path that would do more than just that, though there was no way he could have known it now.
In choosing to ignore the groups, and to talk to the one boy who was holed up in the corner, his small body practically hiding behind the large book he was holding, one that seemed almost too oversized for his thin frame for a child, giving him almost a lanky appearance despite him not being large for his age. One that was oversized just like the glasses on his face. It seemed that, even at his young age, he couldn’t see very well. Though given the conflicting factors in his appearance… how thin he was and how that affected how one might perceive him, it was somewhat hard to pinpoint his age. Though Wendy had been right to think that the boy in the corner was about the same age as him.
The fact was, Bern wasn’t actually so absorbed in the book as he might have seemed to Wendy, or to any other observer. When he’d first come here to the orphanage… well, he didn’t really remember much of it. For one thing, he didn’t remember why he’d come. Just that he was very young, barely walking. It was a couple of years later that he managed to stumble upon some of the orphanage attendants reading to some of the children, and he’d stopped and listened. He understood, somehow, at that point, that the words they read were not their own… that they came from that book. And they might not have been profound words, but they struck something in him. While the other kids were chanting the repetitious parts of the story, parts that came up over and over, Bern found himself ignoring the words and realizing that the things they were reading were things that had been thoughts of someone else at one time. So these books were thoughts that you could share with anyone… and that concept fascinated him. From then on, he would listen whenever the attendants read books, but he would always do so from behind, and he would do so from a higher vantage point. This way, he was able to see the words while they were reading. As a child, he had already made the association between most words and concepts, so he quickly grasped the connection between the spoken words and the written words. After observing enough reading, he did finally approach the ladies at the orphanage and tell them that he wanted to learn how to read. But upon receiving actual help, it didn’t take him long at all until he was proficient.
Which led to why he wasn’t so absorbed in the book he was reading. The only books that were located at the orphanage were very simple, intended to teach the kids how to read. Any books that were at any higher of a level were brought in by request, and were approved by the orphanage, and it wasn’t like anyone was going out of their way to make sure Bern had more advanced books to read. He’d read everything in the orphanage… many times over. He couldn’t really get absorbed in what he was reading anymore, so he was partially listening, partially pretending to keep himself occupied. He genuinely needed more mental stimulation than he had there.
Still, it surprised him when he heard a voice near him. He hadn’t expected that anyone would be there. At least, not right then, but it didn’t startle him enough for him to react all that strongly. A second later, somewhat intense green eyes were blinking back at him through his oversized glasses, wavy blonde hair longish, especially in the back, and all in his face. He closed the book, observing the (assumed) girl in front of him for a few seconds before speaking. His voice was quiet, almost without feeling for a child’s, barely heard over the din of other children in the room.
“Bern. And it’s not important.” He tossed the book aside, seeming to reinforce those words. Honestly, he thought it was pretty stupid, and boring. At this point, he was definitely bored. Bored enough that he’d already started getting himself into trouble, especially late at night when he had trouble sleeping.
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Post by ActuallyFace on Aug 31, 2014 1:09:56 GMT -8
At his age, Wendy had yet to really develop any sense of ugly versus pretty, and he wasn't sure what his thoughts were on Bern while he first approached him... he thought he looked sort of odd, though. Not really proportioned right, with his big glasses and his bigger book, and the messy crop of light blond hair that was long, but not longer than Wendy's. But he looked sort of... inviting. Not in the sense that Wendy yet felt any kind of warm or welcoming personality traits from him, but in the sense that he was quiet, and doing something Wendy thought was comfortable (his mother read to him quite often, mostly out of a book called the Princess Bride, which he adored and was learning to read from as well). And right now, Wendy wanted quiet, and he wanted comfort. He wanted to push himself up into a corner with a bit of company and read for a while.
Bern seemed more curt, though, than Wendy expected, and he was a bit thrown off by it. He had heard adults speak to him that way, but usually they were the adults that he only saw once or twice, that made his mother angry or upset in some other way and didn't seem to want to match Wendy's softness with softness of their own. Wendy usually avoided them, when he could. But he didn't want to avoid this boy, he wanted to sit quietly with him and let the tears on his face dry. And... perhaps he could. Despite Bern's curt tone, he seemed to actually be interested in Wendy; the book was to his side, disregarded, and now those bright green eyes were on Wendy instead...
"Oh..." he mumbled, unsure how to react now. The boy's attention was on him, but he didn't seem to want to read anymore, which was why Wendy had wandered over in the first place. He shifted his weight from foot to foot for a moment, hands fumbling at his navy blue, white polka-dotted skirt. His brief flash of bravado was gone. "Um... okay. Where did you get it? I'd like to read, too. Maybe I can borrow that, if you're done? Or..." He furrowed his brow. He was supposed to be polite, right? His mother had put an emphasis on politeness before he'd come to this new place, filled with strangers he would have to tolerate for a long, long time, now.
"I just moved here." He began again, without much of a pause; "My mom is... she left me, for a while. She said she's coming back, though. But I don't know anybody. Can I please borrow your book?" He looked a little more proud at the end of that, but the look was ruined by the tears still wet on his cheeks, reflecting bits of dim light back at Bern, and red puffiness of his eyes. He wiped them, and looked down at the wet spots on his sleeve. He didn't like crying, especially in new places, in front of new people. And he didn't want this potential new friend to see that, either. He didn't want to be girly or weak like the other kids said in front of him. If he could just read, for a while, he could stop...
Wendy didn't like being in a place with so many people, either. It was sort of overwhelming, especially after all that had just happened. He liked being with people his age, since he didn't have any sibling, but maybe just a few of them at a time; he often played pretend with the other kids in his neighborhood, and he liked that, but it was never more that two or three kids at a time. Four, he could handle, and five was okay as well for a short time, but any more than that made him tired and irritated far too quickly. And now, there had to be hundreds! At least, it seemed that way to him, at the time. It sort of put him on edge, and made him eager to focus on something smaller and less busy. Preferably a book, though maybe just Bern alone would also be alright. He seemed quiet enough, and like he could be tolerable. At least he was focusing on Wendy, instead of disregarding him or immediately jumping to thoughts of what they could do, what fun this potential friend could provide him.
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Post by empyreanVisionary on Aug 31, 2014 10:01:22 GMT -8
Had Wendy actually determined some kind of distinction between attractive and unattractive, eventually, he would probably find himself classifying Bern among the unattractive… for similar reasons that he observed right then. The scope of what adults considered “cute” for a kid was a whole lot broader than it became once that child grew up, but as a child on that level, attractiveness of one’s peers was a lot more similar to the attractiveness an adult might assign to other adults. By those standards, Bern was awkward and strange. A lot of things about him didn’t seem quite right, from the way his eyes were a little too fierce, without much to tame them besides awkwardly oversized frames. It probably seemed really strange to Wendy. Children just didn’t look that way. Though a lot of the intensity in his eyes had a way of melting away once he had seemed to grow somehow accustomed to his presence. Wendy might or might not have noticed it, given that his experience with non-verbal communication might have been more developed than it would be for other children his age, depending on what kind of people he had been around. When he’d first approached the other, even though he’d been seemingly engrossed in that book, there had been tension building in him, and this was the case even though Bern himself hadn’t noticed her approach. Even at his age it was a reflex to defend himself from someone approaching… one had to wonder what kind of past might have contributed to such stiff reactions…
Though, he’d also softened up since then. A lot of things had changed even in the few seconds they’d interacted, and that was partially because of Bern. He had already began to make some connections. First of all, the fact that Wendy had approached him was… unusual. Very few kids did this. Bern never went out of his way to interact with the other kids… even when he had been introduced into the orphanage rather young, he hadn’t felt very comfortable with other people, even the kids his own age. He didn’t really feel like he belonged there, with them. It was like he’d been displaced, and was stuck in a world that was not his own, full of people unlike him. The fact that he kept to himself did, to some extent, keep the other kids from trying much to become friends with him. Not to mention, the ones who had been there a while had probably already labeled him “weird” and “a loser”, perhaps even “scary”, among other things.
Still, the fact that he appeared much softer now seemed to make a big difference. He was clearly interested in Wendy, and this stemmed from a few things. The first one being that he’d never seen this “girl” before. Which meant “she” had to be new. Which meant “she” had to know things about the outside world. The orphanage was pretty well sealed off from the outside world, especially for someone Bern’s age, and it frustrated him. Mostly because there wasn’t much there for him. He was hungry for knowledge, and he didn’t have the opportunity to find it. There were occasionally some lessons in reading and math, and sometimes they talked about things in the outside world. But there was so much talk in this place about how there wasn’t much out there that one could trust. No one was allowed to leave the orphanage at all until about the age of twelve, but Bern noticed that most of the kids there who were older, few that they were, didn’t leave… not often. Not to mention, the things he did get to learn about the outside world did not satisfy him. He knew there had to be more… and Wendy was going to tell him about it. He’d make sure of that.
No, Bern didn’t want to read anymore. He hadn’t wanted to read in the first place, which was why all of his attention was on “her”, now. Her question surprised him, though. Perhaps it was still hard for him, being young, to understand that she surely had a different perspective on things than he did. “There are… a lot of books here, in that bookshelf.” He gestured over to it. “But none of them are any good. This one is no good. You can have it, but it’s not good.” …What an odd thing to say, though. That none of the books were any good… What kind of kid was this?
Anyway, he pushed the book in Wendy’s direction, but his attention was definitely still on the newcomer. Perhaps Wendy wasn’t fond of the crowd of kids, which thankfully wasn’t as large as he imagined it was, but the clear attention Bern was giving him was probably much easier to deal with, despite how intense his focus seemed to be right now. Still, he had seemed like one of the least intimidating kids here, right? Even if he didn’t seem entirely like the other kids.
“So your mom took you here… and said she was coming back?” Bern looked confused by what the “girl” before him had said. “That doesn’t seem right. Nobody here has a mommy or a daddy, I don’t think so. I don’t have a mommy or daddy. Are you sure she is coming back?” He probably didn’t realize that by saying that, he’d probably done more to upset Wendy than he meant to. But kids didn’t always think about the implications of what they said, either. And obviously enough, Bern didn’t mean it. He just didn’t understand the situation. However, if Wendy’s faith in his mom returning was strong enough, then there was no reason that anything Bern said would shake it.
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Post by ActuallyFace on Aug 31, 2014 12:34:59 GMT -8
Wendy had definitely picked up on Bern's strangeness, and he continued to see examples of it as Bern spoke, and in how he acted. He was definitely an unusual little kid... and the fact that he was so blatant about his lack of parents, and Wendy's new lack, too, was kind of startling. Most of the kids his age were pretty blunt, but their bluntness softened a little when adults whispered about the things wrong with them; when they started giving them a reason to feel shame. But apparently, Bern hadn't been whispered about... or maybe he just didn't think there was shame in this thing that adults told him was shameful, even without meaning to.
Wendy, on the other hand, was already rather soft from shame. He didn't have a father, and he had some idea that that was wrong, and he often liked to do things boys wanted to do, instead of things girls wanted to do, and he knew that was even worse. Once, he had told his mother he was a boy, and she had told him that was even more wrong. And beyond that, he was soft in the places girls were usually soft; too conscious of the space he took up, too conscious of how clean he was, and a few other, smaller things he had just started to learn. Sometimes he was loud, and he could be blunt and mean like the boys his age, but every time he was told how shameful that was, he did it a little less.
He looked kind of funny, next to Bern, though. While Bern was lanky and proportioned strangely, Wendy was short, and sort of round. His nose and mouth were thinner than most, and his light blue eyes were small, but the rest of him seemed sort of pudgy; kind of like a doll. And he was dressed more nicely than most of the other kids. His outfit wasn't new, and his tights has grass stains on the knees and the skirt of his dress was rumpled in the back, but his hair was brushed, and his shoes were shiny (if a bit scuffed up in places), and the shirt he wore under his dress matched his white tights. Most of the other kids were sort of dirty, with faded clothes full of holes and stains... apparently, the orphanage didn't have the money to clothe them and keep them clean. Under normal circumstances, this would disgust Wendy, but right now he was much more focused on finding something to distract himself with.
When Bern asked him about his mother, Wendy faltered, and tears sprung to his eyes yet again. His mother had assured him she would be coming back, and Wendy had assured himself that she wouldn't ever leave him. But she had left him, and she had acted like this orphanage was better for him than she was. What if she left him here forever? What if she never came back? What if she forgot about him?
Wendy looked down and away, and his eyes found the book on the floor. The one Bern had told him he could read. It looked kind of stupid, he had to admit... big and flat, with a big picture of a dog and some boy on the cover in soft colors. It was probably just one of those children's books with easy words that he could finish within a few minutes. Nothing on the level of the Princess Bride.
A few tears slipped down his cheeks and dropped down into his dress, making big wet spots in the fabric. Wendy wiped them away, and looked back up at Bern again. Well, he didn't want to read the book, now... and according to Bern, the other books were no better. So he guessed he was stuck here with Bern.
"She told me she's coming back." Wendy told him, trying to put more certainty in his tone than he actually had. His mother loved him, but he didn't know if she trusted herself like Wendy trusted her. "My grandma and grandpa went with Vhil, so I'm staying here until she thinks she can take care of me." He paused again, and then sat down next to Bern, his back against the wall. With his feet, he pushed the book further away from him, and looked back at Bern. "I don't have a daddy, though..." He offered. He wasn't sure what Bern's angle was, but maybe he was trying to find some similarity between himself and Wendy. He couldn't be sure.
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Post by empyreanVisionary on Aug 31, 2014 20:37:45 GMT -8
Being that Bern was in an orphanage, it was possible that he just didn’t get enough attention to have developed a proper way of thinking and talking about the things of the world, not that this specific thing was necessarily a priority to this specific orphanage, either. They probably didn’t care if their kids never learned how to be discreet about their lack of parents, but they would care about them learning the things they thought were more important, of course. Things like who to trust and who not to trust. Things like the outside world being dangerous. How the church was safe. How the military was safe. How much pride one should have in their country and how important it was to defend it.
All that said, the influence of adults in a child’s life very clearly shaped how that child would turn out, to some extent. All the things Wendy continued to hear about how he should live his life were wearing on him. They were changing his thoughts, feelings, and actions about them. The same was true for Bern; he was by no means immune to the things he heard, but they were probably fewer and different things than Wendy was hearing, being that the adults around Bern had different priorities. And Bern certainly had his own priorities. Though it did seem that he was aware that he wasn’t going to get much better books than they already had here, which was part of the reason he was so curious about the outside. He knew there had to be better books. There was no way that adults read these books for fun. He found them boring at his young age… so of course there had to be better! And, if books were, as he imagined, the thoughts one had written out and shared with others, then there had to be some really amazing, interesting books! Like how this building they lived in was built. Or stories about how the gods and goddesses had intervened to help people (or harm them) in the past. He knew there had to be better books, there had to!
Bern didn’t seem to think that Wendy looked strange… or at least he didn’t say anything about it, and being a child, he would have been prone to, had it crossed his mind. Whatever the case was, both of them were simply awkward children. They would grow up, grow into their bodies, and that would change, wouldn’t it? Probably a lot quicker than they thought, too. The fact that Wendy was pretty well groomed did seem to stand out among the other children, many of whom could have definitely used a bath, or new clothes. Bern didn’t look (or smell) too bad, though; he surely would have noticed had he been unpleasant. He seemed to take care to keep his clothing in good shape.
As the “girl” beside him started back to tears, Bern realized all at once that what he said might not have been smart to say. He couldn’t imagine that the tears came from anything else. He stood up, right at the point that he noticed “her” starting to wipe the tears out of “her” dress. and with a hand that was a bit rough, unused to touching others, he wiped across her face to try and stop the tears from ever getting there in the first place.
After she spoke, he did the same. “…Hey, don’t cry… I didn’t mean to make you cry…” Then, he continued with the logic he could come up with as a kid. “Your mom can come back. So she probably will. My mom can’t take me home. Your mom can.” He compared the reality of both their situations right then. For a boy who’d lost his parents, probably at a young age, he didn’t seem too upset about it… did he? Or perhaps he didn’t remember them anyway? Well, that aside, he didn’t know what Wendy meant by “her” grandparents going to Vhil, but… he had an idea, he thought. Death was still a nebulous thing to a child so young.
To “her” last question, he just smiled slightly, recognizing that it was a similarity between them, though his face fell as he continued on speaking. “…Well, I don’t have a daddy either… There aren’t a lot of boys around here. I mean, adult boys…” He glanced over to the rest of the orphanage, or what he could see of it from his space. “There are all girls who take care of us. But there are some boys who come, sometimes. A few of them, and one girl. They are all dressed in dark clothes and are kind of scary. They ask us a bunch of weird questions, too. I don’t know when they are coming next, but they come here sometimes…” Wow, what even was he talking about? Whatever it was, though, it was probably significant… He couldn’t have segued to that concept for no reason. It might have been that he didn’t feel that he had reason to trust men, because he didn’t know any men he could trust… but the fact that this group of people was so distinctive and did what they did was probably much more important and much more terrifying than these kids knew.
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Post by ActuallyFace on Sept 2, 2014 2:05:07 GMT -8
Wendy was honestly kind of shocked when Bern reached to wipe the tears off of his face, and for a moment, he stared at the boy's hand as if it would tell him what Bern was doing. His mother had done that for him, and his grandparents, but never other kids. Usually, when he cried, the other kids got as far away as possible as fast as possible, or looked for adults to come fix the situation. Maybe things were just different, here... It was already clear that none of these kids had any parents, from what Bern was telling him. His mom had told him that before too, he was sure, but he didn't remember it very well. He had been distracted by other things. But maybe that was why Bern didn't seem so afraid... maybe the kids were nicer to each other here because the ladies weren't.
Or maybe Bern just hadn't learned yet how to be afraid of people crying, or how to back away when someone was sad. He clearly hadn't learned how to comfort someone. Maybe he just spent his time tucked away from everyone else, and this kind of thing hadn't been introduced to him in any light at all, let alone the one that people outside the orphanage knew things in. And maybe Wendy would teach him.
But Wendy liked it. He liked the kindness Bern was showing now, and so when Bern sat down after Wendy had already seated himself, he leaned a bit against the boy, his head tilting to rest against Bern's just a little. The contact Bern had made to wipe his tears had been nice, and soothing, and it felt good, when his mother had left him feeling a bit of hollowness inside. His comforting words, too, were nice... nothing that would have the impact of something Wendy's mother could come up with, but it was good to know that this new kid cared a little, at least. He wanted to feel a little more of that. He wanted to be soothed, and comforted. Distractions were nice, sure, but this... this was much better.
And he liked, too, that Bern seemed to appreciate the feeble connection between them Wendy had dug out. It wasn't much, but at least it was something. Neither of them had a daddy. Of course, no one here had a daddy, but that didn't matter to Wendy. They had something in common.
And then Bern started talking about something... totally different. Wendy was honestly baffled by this new piece of information. Why would scary men in dark clothes, accompanied by one woman, ask the kids here weird things? He hadn't heard of anything like that happening in schools, and when his mother had talked to him about orphanages, she had never mentioned that before. But maybe she just forgot, or maybe this group of scary and dark people was unique to this particular orphanage. Whatever the case, if Bern had gone through it before, Wendy would probably be fine as well. Maybe he would even have fun... or maybe Bern was trying to warn him of something.
That gave him a bad feeling, and he didn't like it. He didn't like the orphanage anyway, he decided. It was crowded, and dirty, and the ladies were condescending and patronizing. And there were scary dark people with weird questions now, too. And, apparently, no good books. He liked Bern, though... Bern was okay. So far, Bern was great, and hopefully Bern would make sure he knew about all of the weird scary stuff that happened here so he could be ready. And if he was really lucky, maybe his mom will have packed some good books for him... He could even let Bern read some, if he wanted.
"Well..." Wendy started, and paused, trying to think of something to say, "Well... you've dealt with them. It'll be okay, right? Next time? And my grandpa is okay. Or... was. When he was still with us. He was nice to me, and he liked playing the piano, too. He taught my mom when she was a kid." He attempted a smile, though at this angle, Bern probably wouldn't see it. Wendy loved a few things; reading, listening to the piano, and trying to pluck out his own music with his mom and grandparents helping him. At least, so far, those were his favorite things to do. "And, maybe my mom packed some books in my bag. We can read those! I have a lot of good books." He seemed even more proud of himself for that suggestion. Now, he had something to offer Bern as well.
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Post by empyreanVisionary on Sept 4, 2014 8:37:58 GMT -8
In all honesty, the fact that Bern wiped the tears off Wendy’s face surprised him, too. He generally did not like touching others if he could help it at all, but here he had made the effort on his own to touch "her". He never wanted to be friends with others, so surely he wasn’t trying to be "her" friend THAT hard. No, he must have wanted to know whatever "she" had to say about the outside world that bad. He must have already developed a penchant for manipulation at the tender age of six years old.
But it really wasn’t like that, at least not this time. Bern was definitely different than a lot of the other kids… while fear and putting distance between a crying child was a normal reaction for a little girl or boy, that didn’t seem to show up for Bern. Well, at least not in this case. He didn’t have a reason to be afraid of it. Not to mention that, while most young children didn’t a sense of responsibility… It seemed that Bern seemed to have a grasp of this concept already. He knew that he had been the one to make her cry, so leaving, ignoring the crying, distancing himself from it wasn’t going to be the right thing to do. He’d spent so much time observing, too. He didn’t do much, and he didn’t get involved socially, but he had instead spent years observing. When he felt more brave, sometimes he would ask questions. But it was very rarely that he said anything straightforward, conversational… like the way he was talking to Wendy right now. “She” wouldn’t realize how strange he was. Though some of the ladies at the orphanage were beginning to notice… that Wendy and Bern were actually talking to each other. That was probably something they’d never expected, with how quiet and antisocial Bern was, even for a child. Oftentimes, children were just shy… well, Wendy had been perceived as a shy child, with Bern being a kind of shy that was almost unheard of, or maybe just a kind of shy that unsettled adults. Either way, it wasn't likely that they thought much of it, besides the fact that it was good that Bern had found a kid he got along with.
Clearly enough, Bern didn’t want "her" to cry. But he also wasn’t used to touching others, and that had to be evident with how rough and awkward his touch had been. But still, it wiped the tears away from "her" face and let "her" know that Bern meant what he said. And if Wendy liked that the other was willing to touch him, even when it seemed he probably didn’t… well, do that, then that was what mattered. And if it helped him deal with his mother leaving, all the better… Clearly, none of the kids here had the same kind of security Wendy did, none of them had parents. His situation was unique, and Bern seemed to not only recognize that, but recognize just how important it had been that it was so.
When Wendy leaned against him, however, Bern got pretty nervous, and pretty obviously so. He didn’t try to move away from “her”, but he did seem kind of nervous about being touched, and his skin probably felt taut, if Wendy could feel it, which was really just a result of that. Tensing up didn’t feel particularly good to him, though it had really just been a reflex. Bern did finally calm down, but it took him a while, and partially took him time to distract himself from the current situation. Though he did end up telling Wendy something important.
Yes, knowing about the men and the woman was important… because it was clearly unusual. That, combined with the fact that the orphanage didn’t keep any books around that were even decent. It was kind of a shitty place he was in, wasn’t it? Oh well, he did at least seem to have someone he could get along with… he wasn’t completely alone here. That said, this kid might not necessarily be the one he wanted to get along with; that would probably remain to be seen, but so far it did seem that they were getting along… and Bern wasn’t too bad, was he? Wendy just might have to consider that being friends with Bern might keep him from being friends with other kids in the orphanage…
The whole situation with the mysterious people probably seemed pretty weird. Bern hadn’t brought it up because it was something on his mind as much as he was trying to point out that grown men were a rare sight at the orphanage, but here was a situation where men did come. And they didn’t sound like they were a lot of fun to be around. If they asked weird questions, Wendy had to wonder what it was that they had asked.
To his response, Bern just tilted his head to scratch the back of it, not necessarily in embarrassment, but perhaps out of just having an itch this time. “Yeah, they do ask weird questions though. I don’t trust them, so sometimes I lie. They tell you not to lie but I do anyway, because I don’t like them.” He seemed to realize that these people, as much as he didn’t like them, had some kind of influence on how things worked here. He also realized that lying might keep them from taking away the few things he liked… which, right now, didn’t really exist. He didn’t have any more books to read, and the ones he had were terrible and not really worth reading again. So he just pretended to. He didn’t have any good books here, and he didn’t have any friends here. Sometimes he went places he shouldn’t, because he found out that there were other things to read there, but aside from that? There really wasn’t much for him here. Well, there was Wendy now, he figured. He thought he liked Wendy.
“Oh, your grandpa sounds nice. Not like those guys who come here. They aren’t nice and they don’t teach you.” But when Wendy mentioned the books, his eyes got really wide. Books “she” had brought, that he hadn’t read?! Well, Wendy didn’t seem to know if “she” actually had them or not. But the prospect of reading was too exciting for him. “Wait, you have good books!?” He hesitated, though. “If you have books, you should hide them! The ladies might take them away if you don’t. I might be able to find them but maybe not…” He looked unsure, but then he pointed to the stairs. “We need to go up the stairs and see if your books are up there.” Well, he sure seemed fixated on the books… but that was just how he was, wasn’t he?
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Post by ActuallyFace on Sept 8, 2014 20:56:45 GMT -8
Wendy hadn't fully realized at first just how little Bern seemed to know about physical affection at first, but when Bern stiffened against him, he began to understand. He'd noticed that Bern's initial touch had seemed sort of awkward, and rough, and very different from the easy softness of his mother's hands; but he hadn't ever been shown that kind of affection from another child. Maybe a few times, when he was young enough that he couldn't remember, but not enough that he was particularly familiar with it. And now, Bern was acting even more awkward... he wondered if it was because he didn't have any parents. And he was ready to pull away from Bern, too, but he could tell that the other boy was softening up and relaxing slowly... maybe he needed this, and he just wasn't used to it yet. He certainly didn't seem to mind, after a while. SO Wendy stayed where he was, leaning against Bern for physical and emotional support.
He wasn't sure about the orphanage yet, either... so far, it didn't seem to be a good thing in any way that didn't have to do with Bern. Bern was good, and he liked him, but... he didn't like the condescending, fake-seeming caretakers, or the mass of too-loud children, or the seeming lack of books... he didn't like being away from his mother, either, who was clearly upset about the whole thing as well. And now this talk of weird, scary people? Wess didn't think he ever wanted to leave this safe little corner he and Bern had tucked themselves into, unless it was to go back home with his mother again. Actually, he wanted that quite a bit... he wanted to go back home, and curl up in his mother's arms while she talked with his grandparents, warm and calm and content, placing the occasional kiss on his head and leaning her chin into him... And he wanted to huddle with his mother and grandparents over the keys of the piano and listen to them play simple melodies, so that he could copy them back, and then they could congratulate him and smile. He wanted that so much it almost hurt, and reminded him sharply that he couldn't ever have his grandparents back now, and wouldn't have his mother back for a long, long time. For now, all he had was Bern, and the patronizing ladies, and the scary people in dark clothes with strange questions.
When Wendy realized this, he curled in closer to Bern; just a little, while Bern kept talking. Well... it seemed good, at least, that it was safe to lie to these strange people. And there was a sense of companionship there when he thought about doing it with Bern, like a secret conspiracy against the scary people they didn't like. He couldn't help but smirk a bit at that... it was like a secret club, just for them. No scary people allowed. He always hated when the kids in his neighborhood made those, because they were always "no girls" or "no boys" clubs, and lumped him in with the girls. But this was different, and special, and he was excited already.
The smirk grew into a bigger smile when he heard the excitement in Bern's tone in reference to Wendy's books, and he knew he'd done right to tell him. They could enjoy this together, too! He hoped his mother really had packed them... but why did Bern seem so afraid of the ladies finding them? That didn't seem right; the books were Wendy's. They didn't belong to anyone else, and there was no reason anyone else should have them. Why would anyone take his books away? His mother seemed to think they were fine, and though Bern didn't know what they were, he clearly didn't mind, either. And Wendy was pretty sure he trusted him... it just didn't make sense.
But he didn't want anyone to take his books.
"Why would they take my books?" He asked, already standing and turning to look at the stairs. He was growing agitated. "If you're right, though, let's go get them right away. I don't want them to have my books... they took my bag up there though; do you think they already know?" He turned a worried look on Bern, and the effect was magnified by the residual puffiness around his eyes, and the drying tears still on his cheeks. Today was already a bad day, and he didn't want it turning any more sour. He wasn't prepared for that. He just wanted to be comfortable, and happy...
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Post by empyreanVisionary on Sept 11, 2014 19:36:12 GMT -8
It had to be weird to feel someone actually reacting negatively to his touch, because he’d probably never noticed that among his family or the kids he spent time with. But this boy… he did seem aversive to it, to some degree. How strange. And then, his own touch, which was odd in itself, as kids didn’t really touch others that way, hadn’t really felt right either… stranger still. Though perhaps Wendy was old enough to realize that it had something to do with him being here, in this orphanage… or maybe he just didn’t care about it, even though it was the case. Bern had a totally different past than him. He was a totally different person with different experiences… and they weren’t necessarily good ones.
There was plenty to say about the orphanage… and at the same time, very little to say. Or, at least, what there was to say was mostly the same kind of thing… and that it had a certain suspicious, uncomfortable air even now, even here while he was comfortable with his new friend. His friend seemed okay. The orphanage, and possibly the other kids, not so much. That said, he might still get along with them just fine… The lack of books, at least, was definitely an issue, and it seemed so for Bern, as well, who clearly wanted more to read. But why would the orphanage not try to get more books if the kids wanted them? Did it just not have the money to get them? What about taking the kids to the library? Perhaps, Wendy knew about the library and what it meant… and that there was one here in town. Anyway, if the atmosphere was scary enough that he didn’t feel comfortable, with the people or the kids or the building itself, that was no good. Hearing about those strange people from Bern was probably just the cherry on top of the whole situation. If Wendy didn’t already have a negative opinion about this place, he had to, now. He was clearly fortunate to have had the past he did, with a mother who loved him dearly, and his grandparents, who cared about everything he did, who taught him to play the piano, who… were no longer with him. And his mother, too… at least right now. But Bern had said he thought she would come back, right? Because she could come back. Nobody knew when, but it was someday… right? Because his mother really loved him and she couldn’t leave him here!
Bern hadn’t really made it clear that it was safe to lie… just that he had lied and gotten away with it. That might not necessarily mean it was safe. If Wendy decided to lie, he’d have to do it carefully, probably. It would probably help him to watch Bern first and make sure he knew how he managed to do it. Huh… Bern didn’t seem like the model child, did he? From what Wendy was noticing so far, he’d probably realized that Bern was what his mom would call “a bad child”. He didn’t do what adults told him to do, and he knew this, having just met him. Whether or not Wendy was comfortable with that, only he could know. In this case, where the “adults” in question were kind of shifty… or at least, Bern seemed to identify them as such, perhaps Bern was right. But perhaps he was wrong. That would remain to be seen… but Wendy’s feeling about the place was probably important to consider.
For Bern, the feeling of companionship was definitely there, and it was unusual to him. He hadn’t really been the one to start this “relationship”, as Wendy had been the one who walked up to him. But he had continued it, perhaps for his own purpose. It was strange, but children could definitely be manipulative as adults, given the right situations and the right intentions, and Bern had certainly been intending to learn everything he could about the outside from Wendy, and yet this feeling of companionship was unshakable. He’d never really had anyone to be friends with here. He never had really trusted anyone. As children came and went, and many had already come and gone since he had come to this place, he had waited for someone to come along that he felt like he could be friends with. That hadn’t happened, not until today. He felt some kind of connection with Wendy that he’d never felt with anyone else, and it was weird to him, but he kept trying to play it off as normal. All that considered, their fates were already tied together. There was no denying this.
Bern hadn’t been kidding about them taking the books, and when Wendy seemed so distraught and confused at this news, he explained himself. “I’ve seen it happen! The ladies take the books if they find them. I hope they didn’t have time to look through the bag and find them… If we can get there first, we can try to find a place to hide them…” He looked thoughtful for a moment. He’d realized by now that the hiding places children chose were places where adults could find things easily. He’d also witnessed how quickly adults could find things that children hid. So he had to come up with a hiding place that an adult would not find. And that was difficult for him, because he had to think like an adult when he wasn’t one.
He couldn’t hide them under the bed; the adults were always sweeping under there. The same went for under the other furniture. He couldn’t hide them in the bed; they would change the sheets and all that. Not in the drawers, because they would open them eventually. The more he thought about it, the more he didn’t know where to hide them…
“We’d better find out,” he simply responded, figuring he’d have plenty of time to think when they got up there. He didn’t exactly want the ladies to follow them, so he tried to make sure that none of the ladies were looking when he turned the handle and slipped past the door, hopefully with Wendy right behind him. A quick run up the stairs, and he’d get a chance to see the upstairs part of the orphanage, where they slept. It wasn’t much nicer looking than the bottom floor, in all honesty, perhaps worse off. The paint on the walls was peeling and the whole place looked austere; the bedsheets were a mixture of whatever cloth, blankets and quilts they had been able to procure, with no seeming order. There were some chests of drawers and other pieces of furniture about the place, as well as some lamps. Wendy might also note that there didn’t seem to be any good places up here to hide them.
At which point, Bern had an idea. He’d never seen the ladies actually looking through any of the books downstairs. The ones they would teach the kids to read and the ones that were downstairs for the kids to read were different, Bern knew that much. The ladies only cleaned the bookshelf; they didn’t look at the books on it. So he knew what to do.
“Oh! I know where to hide them.” Bern looked awfully proud of himself. So while Wendy sought out his bag, Bern explained himself. “We’ll hide them with the other books! If they look too different, we can hide them behind. The ladies won’t find them that way; they never look at them, they just clean, and they don’t clean very much.” He was definitely excited to find out if there really were some new books in his bag. He was dying to read something else. Perhaps the first manifestations of his addictive personality.
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Post by ActuallyFace on Sept 13, 2014 17:59:35 GMT -8
Wendy's mother hadn't ever really made clear to him what was a good or bad kid, since the only kids he ever played with were the ones in his neighborhood. But Bern... Bern didn't seem bad at all to Wendy. He may have, under different circumstances, but the ladies here had already managed to turn Wendy against them, and Bern was against the ladies... not to mention he was showing him affection, and generally being a comfort to Wendy. There was no reason for Wendy to be made uncomfortable by Bern, and no reason for him to think Bern was anything but something good, even wonderful. He trusted him.
So when Bern insisted that his books might be taken, Wendy looked fearful and nervous. He hoped Bern was right, that there was a place to hide them... he hadn't really needed to hide things before, though he sometimes brought pretty rocks, flowers, and beads and things that he found on the street into his room to admire them, and he liked to keep the ones he knew his mother wouldn't want there under his pillow... He didn't think that would work here, though. Books were much bigger than beads and dried up flowers. He wondered, though... The people in his books usually hid things beneath floorboards, or behind stones in the wall... and the building didn't seem exactly flawless. Maybe there was something like that they could use?
Wendy was a bit disappointed, as he thought more about where he could hide his books, by the utter lack of nooks and crannies to put anything in when they reached what was apparently the single bedroom. It also didn't seem very comfortable... the varying quilt patterns and blanket and sheet colors added an element of comfort, but the stark white walls with dirty and peeling paint, the small, dingy windows, and the old, ragged, and sparse furniture made the place feel dirty and lifeless. There were too many children here, and none of them happy.
He frowned at the room for a moment, scanning it while Bern ran ahead, and then wandered into it and cast his eyes about the place. The floors were scuffed up, with splinters sticking out of the unfinished wood, and now that he was closer to the beds, he could see how mottled the sheets and blankets looked with years, maybe even decades of stains, tears, and bald spots. He wondered which one he was to be sleeping in... he didn't really see any clues to who was assigned to what bed... but then he spotted his big duffel back, carelessly thrown on the floor beside a bed with a worn red and pink quilt, and practically ran to it in his eagerness to see what his mother had packed him.
He wasn't even listening to Bern, then. He bent down to tear it open, and then crouched on his knees while his arms began pulling things out: clothes, clothes, more clothes... most of them dark blue or green, bearing flowers or polka dots, with a few pinks, purples, and yellows thrown in... he had convinced his mother not to buy too many of the pink things, since they were too girly, but she insisted on getting him some anyway. And there were a lot of clothes. It looked like his mother had packed his entire wardrobe! But finally he got down to the bottom, where there were a few interesting rocks, some coloring supplies, and... books!
Wendy pulled those out and set them aside while he stuffed the rest of his things back in, then shoved the bag under what appeared to be his bed and sat on it with his small stack of books. She'd packed his favorites... mostly fantasy novels for older kids, only a hundred pages long at most. And best of all, he finally saw, his battered copy of The Princess Bride. He grinned.
It was at that point that he remembered Bern had said something, and looked up again to find him, The Princess Bride held tightly against his chest. "We have to make sure they don't take these away." He said firmly, though he was still grinning. "These are the best books. You'll like these. Especially The Princess Bride." He held the book up so Bern could see the cover; two people, surrounded by green and grey foliage, running... somewhere. One of them a woman, glowing with beauty, and another a man, dressed in black, who was pulling her along.
"S. Morgenstern's tale of true love and high adventure." He read off the cover, and then stood and faced Bern. "Where can we hide them? Lots of people in my books hide things under loose floorboards, or loose stones in the wall... is there anything like that?" He obviously hadn't heard anything Bern had told him, but his face was radiant with both excitement and worry.
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Post by empyreanVisionary on Sept 14, 2014 20:29:41 GMT -8
Sometimes it just went without saying that whether someone was morally good or evil was something that depended on the circumstances. Under these circumstances, the boy Wendy was starting to become friends with was by no means an evil little child. While he was lying to those people, it was because he didn’t trust them. While he had tried to leave the orphanage a couple of times before, even though Wendy didn’t know it yet, it was simply because he was curious about the world outside, and he wasn’t allowed to experience it. And while he had figured out how to pick locks and sometimes broke into the locked areas of the orphanage in order to find things to read that weren’t the same inane drivel over and over again, he wasn’t necessarily evil… but he was certainly developing a thirst for knowledge that the strict rules of the orphanage could not quench. He might have been only six years old, and unaware of what was going on in this place, but it didn’t change the fact that he was rebelling in his own little way.
Wendy’s ways of hiding things definitely weren’t going to work here. It was a totally different place from his home, and honestly, it was an austere and even disgusting sort of place. Wendy could probably already tell he’d have to wear his shoes around the upstairs area, all the time, if only to avoid getting pieces of wood stuck in his feet.
As Wendy practically dumped out the entire bag on the floor (thankfully where there were no pieces of wood sticking up that might catch in the clothing), Bern had been thinking… but when he did finally come up with something, he came back to reality and noticed what Wendy was doing. Yes, it looked like “she” had found some books! He didn’t waste any time falling down to his knees next to “her” and getting a look at what “she” had. He’d never seen books like these before, and it was evident in the way his face lit up with both interest and confusion. Not to mention, Wendy had probably never seen anyone react quite this way before, either… But Bern was special.
He noted that Wendy had a tight hold on “her” copy of one of the books. At “her” statement, he nodded, feeling as though he agreed completely. Of course he wouldn’t let them take “her” books away! So this was… The Princess Bride? He looked at the cover, having read everything on it already, taking a glance at the image of the man pulling the woman along. Perhaps he didn’t have the same kind of attraction to it that Wendy seemed to have, but that didn’t mean he didn’t find it interesting… new, and interesting, and exciting.
“I’ve never seen a book like this,” he admitted, reaching out to touch it, turning it around when Wendy held it out to him, after he’d finished seeing the cover. The back of it had more words, which he’d already begun to read. It seemed to be about the story, which was unlike the smaller books downstairs. “True love and high adventure? That is what this book is about? I don’t know anything about either of those things.” Well! It seemed that Bern had a lot to learn from Wendy, then… surely he would have to make sure his friend knew all about these fantasy worlds and what they were supposed to be like. And then, maybe they could act it out sometime… surely Wendy had fantasized about acting out these adventures, especially if he hadn’t been able to do those things with the kids back home.
Bern was kind of surprised that Wendy asked him again where they could hide them, but he repeated what he’d said. “I told you, with the books downstairs! The ladies don’t look carefully at them…” But then, at Wendy’s suggestions, he grew confused. Wendy would see him raise a hand to his chin, almost making him look like an adult. It was kind of cute, the way he emulated a thoughtful adult. “…No, there aren’t any places like those around here…” He returned a quixotic look. Of course there weren’t, but he also didn’t realize that the books were written in a setting he was unfamiliar with. And Wendy probably hadn’t made a huge distinction between those things, either.
However, right when they were probably about to get caught up in the fact that there were books, things to read that they loved, Bern heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and for a moment, he panicked. Wendy would see just how frightful Bern had gotten in that instant. He had only a few seconds to react, but he did… grabbing up all the books Wendy had pulled out of the bag, as well as The Princess Bride that he might have had to pry out of “her” arms right then… but Wendy would probably realize that he was trying to hide it, and let go. Once he got them all, he pushed them under the nearest bed, thankful that the sheets were long enough to hide that he’d done so. Then, he turned to Wendy, whispering to him. “Start crying; start crying!” he insisted, pretending to go through the clothes on the floor.
It was only moments later that one of the ladies came through the door, seeing them there. “Oh, what are the two of you doing?” she asked, thinking it was a bit strange that the two of them came upstairs like this. But seeing that they were going through Wendy’s bag, it made a bit more sense to her. Clearly, Wendy had wanted something that was packed in her bag, then!
At one point Bern finally looked up to the lady and said something that probably surprised Wendy. “Wendy can’t find Buttercup! She really wants her and she’s not here!” He didn’t look all too happy about this either. But Wendy would realize that Bern was not only lying to distract the lady, he’d already had a chance to figure out who at least one of the characters in the book was!
The lady shook her head softly at this, as she didn’t see any stuffed dog in the pile of stuff on the floor, either. “It doesn’t look like she’s here, is she? Well, there is a doggie here that you can play with… so don’t cry, come back downstairs and I’ll get her for you.” That said, the lady started to leave. Bern took a deep breath, trying to figure out whether they could leave the books there for now… yes, he figured they could; nobody would be up there to change the sheets on the beds, not until the next day at soonest, and putting them back would be risky because one of the ladies would probably put Wendy’s clothes into some of the drawers and find them. They could move the books later, after everyone went to bed. Part of the reason he felt like this was safe was because the bed he’d put the books under was his own bed. Come to think of it, Wendy was probably sharing a bed with him because none of the others had any room right now. The orphanage was actually rather full at this time.
After all that had happened, Bern reassured Wendy that it was okay to go, figuring he’d done what he could, and they could at least wait out the rest of the day… There wasn’t much left of it, after all. Now they just had to go back downstairs and continue to pretend they didn’t have an important secret to keep.
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Post by ActuallyFace on Sept 16, 2014 15:15:28 GMT -8
Wendy was kind of surprised to see Bern's excited reaction to his books; the other kids he knew were usually more interested in insects and dolls than anything else, with the occasional game of pretend... but Bern seemed very different from them. Actually, he seemed different in just about every way possible so far, not just different, but different in ways Wendy was different as well. He liked books, like Wendy, and so far he didn't seem to mind touching much either... something Wendy tended toward as well, even when he wasn't just upset and seeking comfort from wherever he could get it. And he was smart. Wendy could tell that much; his suggestion to hide the books among other books wasn't something most other kids would suggest... no, it sounded more like the kind of intelligence some of the characters in the higher-reading-level books had, the kind that helped them work around things in ways most people wouldn't think of, rather than scraping by with the all-too-obvious, or with big swords and quick feet.
Like Westley.
Wendy usually thought of Westley, his favorite character in The Princes Bride, as something closer to himself. Or... perhaps more of a childish ideal, something he wanted to strive for. But Bern's intelligence mirrored Westley's in the book to a pretty great degree, and that both excited Wendy, and made him a bit jealous. He wanted to show Bern the book now, let him read it and point out which parts were like him. He did the same to his mother, and to himself; finding similarities in the book and in those he knew. For himself especially it brought him closer to it, and alleviated the feeling of loneliness that plagued him at times. And now he could show Bern. He could share it with his new friend.
He loooked up at Bern when the other repeated his idea, his eyes wide with excitement; both from the books, and from the new knowledge of Bern's... well, lack of knowledge. He didn't know what true love was? Or adventure?! Well... perhaps he would have to show him, then! He could introduce Bern to these new concepts, and show him how wonderful the things Wendy loved were, even act out the book in games of pretend... and the idea brightened his whole demeanor. He had a friend here, and one who might even be willing to play his favorite game with him.
And then Bern's whole attitude changed in an instant; Wendy wasn't even sure he'd heard the footsteps, so when Bern's thoughtful, adult-like expression turned to one of panic, Wendy was left confused and unsure of what to do. His eyes stayed on Bern, though, and his mouth drooped open just a bit to spit out a question. But then Bern was speaking again, gathering up his books and telling him to... cry?! Wendy wasn't sure why he'd want that, or why he was even so afraid, and he took a minute to process the request; he did, though, and curled in on himself with soft sobbing sounds that were perhaps a bit too fake, but then, he was young enough for them to pass. And just in time; it was right then that the woman walked in.
He parted his fingers enough to stare at Bern through them, still crying, when he heard her voice. There was fear in his eyes now, too, and it was probably more helpful for it to be there now than anything. He had to hold back a look of shock when Bern mentioned "buttercup", but he managed... apparently Bern had caught on to the characters of Wendy's novel already, though... and after the initial surprise, the idea that Bern must actually like the book, even before reading it, was absolutely thrilling.
He was faithful to his part, though, and stood when the lady asked him to follow her out. His eyes stayed on the splintered floor, and he even employed a bit of a dejected shuffle as well, along with some real hiccups he couldn't help anymore.
When he'd finished picking out the new stuffed toy from the lady, Wendy practically sprinted back to Bern, hoping for news of his books; had he done anything more with them? Could they go back up to rescue them...? But Bern seemed confident in the fact that they were better off where they were until bedtime, and Wendy (tentatively) believed him.
He spent the remainder of the day with Bern, sitting and talking quietly in the corner they had picked out before. He explained to him everything he could think of about The Princess Bride, and told him about both Bern's and his own similarities to Westley, and eventually moved on to talk about how his life with his mother and grandparents used to go. By the time he was starting to tell Bern about his piano playing and the library they sometimes visited, it was time for dinner.
The ladies that appeared to run the orphanage rang a bell in what Wendy learned was called the common room, where they apparently spent most of their time, and then ushered everyone into a smaller room filled with mismatched tables and chairs, floors even more scuffed up than the ones in the bedroom (with a plethora of stains to add to the "heavily used" effect), paint that was just a bit fresher than the paint in the bedroom, and a few tall, dinghy windows. Just after Wendy and Bern had seated themselves at an otherwise empty, small table in a far corner, a few women emerged from behind two big french doors and started handing out bowls of soup and glasses of milk. Wendy pushed his away after a couple of tastes, and turned to continue speaking with Bern.
After they finished dinner, Wendy finally vanished from Bern's side to rush up to their bedroom, hoping to get to his bed and his books before anyone else had a chance to find them. He checked twice under the bed to ensure they were there, just as the rest of the children filed in, and then sighed gratefully and followed everyone else's lead, undressing and then slipping into his pajamas. It was only after he had done that that he went to find Bern again.
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Post by empyreanVisionary on Sept 16, 2014 19:28:57 GMT -8
So far… everything was going good, right? Despite the fact that they had been followed up the stairs, anyway. They had books, that much they knew… and it seemed that Bern was pretty well certain that they would continue to have those books, as long as the ladies didn’t find them. And that wouldn’t be a problem, would it? It sure did sound like Bern knew what he was doing. That he’d been here long enough to know what they could do, long enough to know what they couldn’t do, and long enough to figure out the unknown.
Though it had been pretty evident already that Bern was pretty damn smart for his age, and that alone had to be fascinating to Wendy. The boy he’d met was strange, almost adult-like. It probably didn’t entirely feel like he was talking to a kid when he talked to Bern, and perhaps there was something comforting about that. And what was more, he’d solved the problem with a clever lie in what seemed no time at all… When the adults here were ones he didn’t trust or get along with, while the adults previously in his life, like his mother and grandparents, had been very comforting… it was probably more than a little pleasant to have someone like Bern around. Not to mention, he was a friend. A friend his age, who he could share things he enjoyed with. Bern seemed to be interested, at least. And Wendy seemed to be settling in.
Despite the catastrophe that had happened earlier (well, it probably felt like a catastrophe to Wendy, at least), everything seemed to go well from then on. Wendy and Bern were able to stay together, talking in the corner, and probably attracting some attention from the ladies seeing as they weren’t leaving each other’s sides. This was odd, if only for the fact that Bern hadn’t gotten along with any of the other kids so far… and now, these two were practically inseparable. If it was something that they thought much of, though, Wendy and Bern heard nothing of it. Instead, they kept on talking together, Wendy avidly describing the events and characters of The Princess Bride, and Bern listening intently, for while this was only a book, it was a -book-, and to hear of new ideas was fascinating to him. In time, he would grow more fond of nonfiction, but right now, this was absolutely riveting to him, and Wendy was pulling him in deeper.
He asked questions; so many questions that Wendy probably felt a bit overwhelmed. But he also had an answer to most everything Bern asked, too. And Bern seemed to like hearing about -everything- Wendy had to tell him… About his parents and grandparents, about the outside world. And he asked questions about that, too. Sometimes they were able to go outside, to the fenced-in area behind the orphanage, to run around a bit or climb on some old metal barrels which were probably perfectly unsafe and in fact rather dangerous… but that was the extent of what Bern knew about the world outside the orphanage. All he knew was that it felt like it was a lot more than the world inside, and he wanted to know everything about it.
When dinner came, Bern could hardly focus on eating his soup while Wendy was talking, but all the same, he was used to eating it, so despite its bad quality, he managed to finish it all, all while listening to Wendy speak. And then, he realized that Wendy didn’t want to eat “hers”, so he made sure “she” really didn’t want it before eating it, too. Hopefully Wendy wouldn’t make a habit out of not eating, or “she” was going to end up being really hungry. Bern, on the other hand, had never really had good food, so of course he wasn’t all that bothered by it.
Finally, as all the children came upstairs to get ready for bed, Bern followed Wendy over to the corner where his things had been, and where his books were now. He watched as the other started getting dressed, considering the books hidden underneath the bed. As long as they got them hidden tonight, everything would be fine. He’d make sure to wake Wendy up at the right time… He’d done this plenty of times before, but he usually got up in the middle of the night to find new things to read. Sometimes he even slept in his corner because he stayed up so late. Anyway, seeing Wendy getting dressed, he smiled as he took his own pajamas from the drawer not far away.
“Did the ladies tell you where they want you to sleep? Because they put your stuff by my bed.” He said all this with a broad smile, like this made him proud for some reason. Well, of course it would; he’d figured that meant that Wendy could sleep in the bed with him. Since they were still pretty young, the people running the orphanage probably didn’t worry about girls and boys sleeping together, if neither of the kids objected (after all, some of them thought the other gender had cooties). And honestly, Bern would rather sleep with Wendy than anyone else in this orphanage. Even if “she” peed in the bed. And that was saying something.
It all turned out good for both of them, and they would settle into bed together before long. Wendy probably would find it weird to sleep in a bed with another kid for the first time, since he was an only child and never had to do anything like that. Though it wasn’t that he hadn’t slept in a bed with another person, surely he’d done so with his mom before, possibly many times. Bern, on the other hand, had gotten used to sharing a bed. But the kid who’d been in the bed with him before had been adopted a while ago. There were times when he had to share his bed and times he didn’t, but he preferred having a bed to himself… and yet, he think he’d even prefer a bed with Wendy right now. Just knowing that there was someone here he liked that well was really saying something. They would settle into bed now, and Wendy might even fall asleep at some point. But Bern would wake him when the time was right… and that was when the fun really would begin.
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Post by ActuallyFace on Sept 19, 2014 16:45:32 GMT -8
Wendy was less overwhelmed by all Bern was asking him, and more excited. It wasn't really as if no one ever paid attention to him and took interest in him, but he craved it all the same. He loved it when others took interest in him, and he loved talking about his life, too. It was a happy one, and the subject brought him joy; even now, when that life had been all but torn from his hands. It was the closest he was going to get to being back in the life he described, anyway... at least, for the time being.
He didn't mind Bern taking his soup during dinner, and honestly, he sort of appreciated it. Wendy was hesitant to waste food, since at times it had been somewhat scarce, but he was going to have to be pretty hungry before he was going to finish a bowl of that. And he wondered, too, if the women in charge would scold him for wasting food... It made him feel a bit better to have Bern eating it for him, and at least making it seem like he'd done nothing wrong. He wondered how many more times he would have to do that... maybe there were other, better meals, but he wasn't sure how likely that really was. It certainly didn't seem likely. The orphanage itself didn't entirely scream "high quality meals".
Wendy was sort of bewildered by Bern's statement, when they finally got upstairs and into their pajamas; he hadn't really noticed it before, as he had been more focused on his books, but it did seem that there weren't really enough beds for every child he'd seen to have their own... did that mean they would be sharing beds? And from the way Bern was acting, it seemed that by putting Wendy's things next to Bern's bed, the "ladies" had signified that he and Bern would be sharing the bed. And he had never shared a bed before... with his mom, sure... and sometimes with his grandma, too. But not with someone his age. He doubted it would be a big deal, though. Clearly, everyone else here was doing the same thing, which meant it was probably expected of them.
So Wendy just sort of shrugged in response to Bern's question, and then followed his lead and climbed under the covers with Bern. He didn't exactly have any real qualms about it, after all... it was just something that was new, and that he didn't wholly understand. But after a moment of laying there, unsure of how to react, he relaxed a little and moved in closer to Bern... actually, it was sort of nice. He did like Bern, after all, and his presence was soothing after all that had happened... Bern was his friend, and probably his first real one, and having that kind of connection to someone in this kind of place was wonderful.
As Wendy gradually drifted off, Bern would start to feel "her" moving in a bit closer, drawn by his warmth and his presence. He had had a long day... And when Bern tried to wake him again, Wendy was reluctant. He'd finally gotten to rest, and to stop thinking about all that had happened, and he just wanted to sleep. It would take quite a bit for Bern to get him going. Once he did, though, Wendy was able to take care of himself; he slipped back out of the bed and landed with a quiet thump on his bare feet. Remembering the splinters in the floor, he pulled on some shoes, and then rubbed his eyes groggily before searching Bern out in the dark to go... do... whatever it was Bern wanted him to do.
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