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[NANO 2007][Catfish: Ghost Story]
Previously: take one | take two | take three | take four | take five | take six | take seven
TODAY'S INSTALLMENT: WHEREIN THINGS HAPPEN. LOTS OF THEM.
Just FYI: it is really difficult to write fic when you plan on using your lunch break at work for research, and realize some of the search threads you need to use are ... things that you're kind of worried about the people who only know you in a professional context seeing. Kind of like when your mom finds out you write porn. (For the record, my mom knows I write fic, but I don't know if she's aware that it's anything but gen. ... I'm actually not entirely sure she even gets the concept, really, of fanfic. It's sometimes awkward!)
ON THE OTHER HAND I've a bit of my writing mojo back, so maybe I can post HGJ fic tomorrow and work more on NaNo. GO BABY GO. As always, please let me know what you think! ♥♥♥
+++++
"Mister Suzuki?"
Ken looked up from his notes, adjusting his glasses. There was a man hovering in the doorway, whom Ken vaguely recognized as always sitting in the front row, right before the professor's podium, and usually hung around after lecture to eavesdrop on questions from the other students. He was older than most of the freshmen -- there was gray creeping into his hair at the temples and crow's feet bunching the corners of his eyes -- and carried himself meekly, always shuffling his feet and keeping his shoulders hunched tightly in. As far as Ken knew, he never spoke to anyone -- not his fellow students, not the other TAs, not even the professor: he just hung in the background and listened, always hovering a little too close to be doing anything but eavesdropping.
"Mister Suzuki," the man said again. He gave Ken a quick, nervous smile. "Um, I'm not, uh, am I interrupting? I'm not, I don't, if you're busy ..."
"Nah," said Ken. He leaned back in his chair. "Office hours are supposed to be when you can come bug me. You can call me 'Ken,' you know."
"Umm." The man shuffled partly into the room, then backstepped halfway, looking from side to side. He wore his backpack hanging off one shoulder and had a thin paper-wrapped package clutched to his chest. "Just. Mister Suzuki -- uh. Ken. I had a few questions."
"That's why I'm here," he said, and gestured to the chair opposite him. "Have a seat. Your name is--?"
"Miller, sir," the man said quickly. "Jeff. Jeff Miller. I'm not in your quiz section, but. I had to talk to you."
"Well," said Ken. He leaned forward, his elbows on the desk. "Your own TA might be able to help you out better, since he or she knows what you've been covering in section -- who is it?"
"Miss Lowe," said Jeff. "She, um. She said. If I had other questions, I should, um, that I should ask you. She said that you were good."
In spite of himself, Ken grinned and ducked his head a little. "She did?"
"Uh. Yeah." Jeff crept his way to the chair finally, sinking down to perch nervously on the edge. He kept the package hugged to his chest. "Besides, uh. I was, um, that is -- my brother, yeah, my brother's a fan of yours. I mean, your grandfather. He, uh. Really admired him."
Ken blinked, and was a little surprised at the vague bittersweet twinge at the mention of his grandfather, which came immediatley followed by a brief stab of guilt: less than a month after his grandfather's death, and he'd been so damn *busy* he'd forgotten proper and respectful grief -- and then his head snapped up as Miller's voice cut off expectantly.
"Huh?" he said, at Miller's look. "I'm sorry, I missed that, what?"
"I said that, uh. Well. I've got this--" He fumbled with the package he held, putting it on the table and pushing it hesitantly at Ken. "This thing. It's been in my family for years, and. And, uh. I was wondering if you could take a look at it ..."
"Me?" Ken looked at the package for a moment -- flat and wide and oval-shaped, like some sort of mirror. "I'm sorry, Jeff, I'm not the expert my grandfather was. If you've got an acid-base question or something, then I could help you, but--"
"You know someone, though, don't you?" Jeff insisted. He leaned forward, both hands pressed to the table to brace his weight. His voice lowered to a loud stage whisper. "Someone special, who could take a look at this and know what it is, maybe tell you what it can do ..."
Ken met Jeff's eyes. He was breathing oddly, wheezing loudly in and out through his nose even though his mouth hung open. Without breaking eye-contact, he carefully pushed the package back across the table, across from himself. "Sorry," he said. "I really wish I could help you, but I don't--"
Jeff caught his wrist. His palm was a little slippery with sweat. Ken jumped and yanked his hand back out of reach; to his surprise, he was able to with a normal amount of effort. Before he could wonder too much on this, though, Jeff leaned forward again, his face pressing in uncomfortably close.
"I know you know her," Jeff said quickly. His breath smelled like stale corn chips. "That woman, the green-eyed demon!"
"Demon?" Ken gave a nervous laugh, leaning back to try and put a bit more distance between them. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Don't tell me you haven't *seen*." Jeff's eyes raked him over anxiously. He pushed the wrapped package towards Ken once more. "You haven't seen the hellfire she summons, the things she can do -- they're not *natural*. SHE isn't natural." He was breathing harder now, nervous quick little pants. "I know she's targetted you, that she's following you around. You must have seen -- she's ruthless, your very *life* is in danger! When she's used you for everything she possibly can, she'll kill you for certain. She's dangerous, more than you'd ever believe!" He gave a half-lunge across the table, knocking over his chair with the force of his movement and grabbing Ken's shirt in both fists. His eyes were wild. "Please, Mister Suzuki -- Ken! You have to believe me!"
Ken held as still as he possibly could for long, uncomfortable seconds. Very slowly, watching the other man's face carefully, he lifted his hands and settled them atop Jeff's, prying those clutching fingers from his shirt. Jeff's hands fell away to the table to brace his weight, so that he remained hovering uncomfortably close, unblinking as he stared into Ken's face. Ken leaned back in his chair, pushing a little away from the desk.
"Listen," he said. "I really am sorry, but I don't think I can help you. I think you should just take your things and go."
Jeff shook his head, never looking away. "Don't you see?" he coaxed, suddenly softspoken and concerned. "What happens to your family if you're hurt? Or if you die? They'll think that it was just an accident -- is that the legacy you want to leave them? Never knowing the truth, never realizing ..." He let out a sigh and collapsed back into his chair like a dropped doll, his face pale and drawn. He reached out and gently took the package in his hands, tipping it up towards Ken. "You can save them from that. They don't have to go through that heartbreak. Think of how that demon will laugh as your mother weeps! Is that what you want?"
Ken swallowed. He took a deep breath. "I don't know what you mean," he said. He tried not to think of Yuki, white with pain and black ichor drooling from both corners of her mouth, or of Avery's rueful smile; he tried to forget the absolute disinterest in Sen's eyes when she cut the throat of a shapeshifter with her granddaughter's face, and the weight of a knife in his own hands. When he spoke again, he was amazed at how steady his voice sounded. "Please, just take your things and leave."
"You idiot!" Jeff exploded forward again, as though reenergized by Ken's refusal, practically spitting the words. "Blind self-important idiot! It's a mirror -- here, see --" He ripped through the brown paper wrapping of the package, revealing a medium-sized hand mirror. It was cracked in the corner and there were spots of rust on the glass itself, and etched into the rim of the glass was a line of precise Chinese characters. The brass handle was smooth and dull with age. Ken saw his own face reflected in the mirror back at him; his expression bordered somewhere between worried and incredulous.
Jeff picked the mirror up with obvious reverence and all but shoved it into Ken's chest, so that he caught it by reflex. Something like relief passed across Jeff's face, smoothing his features into relaxation. "You see," he said. "It's just a mirror. But it'll show you the truth of things. You'll see then. You'll understand."
Ken turned the mirror over gingerly, using only his fingertips to touch it. "Seriously," he said, and couldn't quite look the other man in the eye. "I don't want this."
Jeff just smiled at him beautifically. He got to his feet, adjusting the strap of his backpack across his shoulder. "Trust me," he said. "Once you see her for what she really is, you'll thank me."
"Isn't that stupid, though?" Ken asked. "If I -- let's say that I were to use this mirror on someone, hypothetically. Wouldn't that put me or my family in danger?"
If anything, Jeff's smile grew wider, almost angelic. "Creatures like her are always stunned, when their glamor is broken," he said. "If you force her to see her true self and you name her in that moment, she will be powerless to hurt you. In fact ..." He reached out and ran his finger down the line of characters before he glanced up at Ken through his lashes. "With the proper words, you could force a promise out of her. Something that would bind her to your will -- make her swear that she'll never bother you or yours again."
Ken swallowed. It sounded very loud in his ears. "Why are you giving me this?"
Jeff got to his feet. He looked at Ken with something akin to pity. "Because you're not the first life she interfered with," he said. "And I can't ..." He shuddered; a worn hunted look flashing in his eyes and then was gone. "I can't rest, not until I know she can no longer continue her sins. Someone important to me was--" he bit his lip, face ashen. "The mirror will help you."
He gave the mirror a fond look before he turned and headed out of the cramped office, as hesitantly as he had come. Ken half-expected him to pause in the doorway and throw back some last admonishment or pithy warning, but he simply shuffled away without even a backwards glance, even humming a little as the door closed gently behind him.
Ken looked at the mirror in his hands, then carefully set it aside. Belatedly he brought his hand up to cover the lump in his shirt from the cat's eye necklace.
A mirror to force her true shape, and a spell to bind her by her given name. Ken set the mirror aside on the far corner of his desk and put his face into his hands, just breathing slowly. An ache had gathered at the base of his neck, spreading slowly across his shoulders, but the cat's eye remained cool on his skin.
He was still sitting like that when there was a knock at the office door. He looked up in time to see Elizabeth poke her head in, smiling broadly at him.
"Surprise!" she said. "I brought you food. Are your office hours over?"
"You should know," he said, and finally let himself relax a bit, elbows on his desk. "You're the one sending people to me."
"Did I?" She slipped into the room, pushing the door shut with her foot behind herself. She was carrying two white takeout boxes from the cafeteria, stacked one on top of the other, which she brought to the table and set down; one smelled distinctly of alfredo, and it made his stomach growl. "I don't know, I think I'd remember that."
He raised an eyebrow at her. "What, so you're not siccing your students on me now?"
"Why would I something like that?" she asked, grinning as she handed him a fork. "It's like pulling teeth to get anyone to come to my office hours, especially the ones that actually come for *advice*, and not so they can freak out at me about the tests, like I'll take pity on 'em and slip 'em the answers." She shook her head and opened one of the boxes -- salad -- and prodded it with her fork. "Hey, what's that?"
He looked; she was pointing at the mirror by his elbow. "Oh," he said. "That. Just something that a friend of my grandfather's dropped off. I'm uh," he gave a brief nervous laugh, "I'm thinking about giving it to Yuki."
"Just the thing that girl needs," Elizabeth said, smiling. "More excuses to focus on her looks. May I see?"
Ken hesitated. Elizabeth raised an expectant eyebrow at him, and he finally swallowed hard and slid the mirror partway over to her, so that she had to lean over to look into it. A moment later her smile faded, and she reached up to press her fingers to her cheekbones, just under her eyes.
"Ken," she said evenly, "what kind of mirror is this?"
"Huh?" He rose out of his chair, bending over to check himself. His own reflection looked completely normal, with his familiar face peering back at him from.
Elizabeth's, on the other hand, was missing its eyes.
Everything else was where it should be in the mirror's face: her long nose and thin mouth pinched into a worried line, the loose curls of long hair framing her oval face. However, where the eyes should have been, above her fingers -- also clearly and correctly reflected -- there was just smooth blank skin. Ken sucked in a huge breath. She looked up at him, and he was more relieved than he wanted to admit, seeing her eyes in their proper place, even opened wide and filled with worry.
"Haha," she said weakly, her mouth twitching in a forced smile. "So, uh, don't tell me -- it's a trick mirror, right? Something that, um, makes the foreground person look funny, so they're creeped out. Right?"
He held his breath, searching her expression. Something lingered in her eyes that almost, *almost* remembered; he could see the fragment of memory surface and then fade away again, leaving only frustrated anxiety. With effort he smiled and reached to pat her hand, unsurprised when it turned and caught at his, clutching tightly. He rubbed his thumb along the side of her hand and pulled the mirror out of the way, this time setting it down to lean against his chair on the floor.
"Sure," he said softly. "A trick mirror. That's all."
+++
"There you are," Sen said, when Ken emerged from the depths of Bagley Hall, trailing after the last of the Chem 152 students. She heaved herself down off the bannister, landing in a crouch with her arms out and her coat fluttering around her; under it, she was wearing jeans and a black shirt with sleeves so long they gloved her hands. A heartbeat later she popped upright again, thrusting her arms into the air. "Great! Let's go, it's *freezing*."
"It's not that bad," Roy said mildly. He was leaning against the same cement ledge Sen had been perched on a moment before, in his ubiquitous gray duster, turtleneck, and jeans; when Ken looked at him, he gave a brief friendly nod. "Actually, it's a bit warm for this time of year."
"Ugh." Sen made a face, then exhaled loudly, squinting at the plume of white steam that came from her mouth. "If I can still see *that*, it's too cold. I'm ready for the spring!" She flung herself at Roy, catching his arm and dangling from it limply. "... I think I just stepped into a puddle, too. Ew."
Roy smiled faintly. He lifted a hand and patted her head twice, just the flat of his palm, and chuckled when she whined and batted at the offending limb.
Ken watched, tucking his own hands into his pockets. In his backpack, he could feel the edge of the mirror pressed up against his spine by the weight of his papers. He felt hyperaware of how shifts in his own weight moved it against him. Down the steps from him, Sen untangled herself from Roy and staggered out of range, shaking her fist and laughing at him; pink-cheeked from the cold and laughing through her mock anger, she looked just like another student, harmless and in good health. There was no visible trace of the hard-eyed woman who'd been willing to cut her own granddaughter's throat, or the drill master with the sharp-toothed smile that had been riding his ass for nearly a month to teach him wards and detection spells in half a dozen languages.
He felt lightheaded and sick.
He took one step down and felt the edge of the mirror dig into his back. Sen turned to him with bright eyes and said something about food on the Ave -- *I'm starving and if you don't feed me, I won't be responsible for my actions* -- and he nodded quietly, not quite willing to trust his voice. She cheered, for all the world like a little kid, and snagged his arm, dragging him down the last two steps, making a beeline past Drumheller Fountain, across Red Square, and towards University Way. Roy trailed behind; Ken glanced over once to see that same indulgent little smile on Roy's face, and the obvious affection when Sen announced -- loud enough for everyone on the block to hear -- that she wanted *Indian*, so they were going to get *Indian*, speak now or forever hold your peace.
Ken ducked his head and concentrated on not being sick.
"Ken?" There was a pause in Sen's litany, and she tugged at his arm until he glanced at her. "Hey, kiddo, you don't look so hot. Maybe we should take you back instead?"
He ducked his head further, watching her from the corner of one eye: she appeared genuinely concerned, lips pursed and brow furrowed, her fingers loose against his wrist. He looked away. "That would require you being nice to me," he said, and apparently he sounded normal enough that she laughed, slapping his shoulder and letting him go.
"Hey, sometimes, I can be!" she said, backstepping enough that she could point a finger at him. "When I want to. Today I feel generous."
He snorted, managing a faint smile. "I'm not paying for your takeout."
She snapped, still grinning, half-rising to bounce on her toes. "Damn. I wanted to go somewhere expensive, too."
"You always want to go somewhere expensive," Roy said fondly, finally pushing away from his ledge. He brushed past Ken easily and put a hand on Sen's shoulder, turning her to face north. "He's on a student's budget, remember."
"Yeah, and what about us?" Sen demanded. She ducked under Roy's hand and caught Ken's wrist, pulling him forward until she could tuck her arm around his. Her elbow brushed the edge of his backpack. Ken froze, but she went on blithely, leaning forward and using him as a brace for her weight, "We're on an even smaller one right now! It's the least he could do, with all the lessons we're giving him." She glanced back. "That was a hint, by the way."
"Right," he said. He smiled weakly, more at his own feet than at either of them. "Maybe this weekend, though, I guess I'm more tired than I thought ..."
"Seriously?" She peered into his face, then tugged again on his arm, drawing him forward, step by step, towards Red Square. "Huh, I told you that you were looking kinda green. Fine, we'll take you home -- but next time!" She shook a finger at him, pouting for effect. "Next time, you're going to buy me something to eat, and I am totally raiding your kitchen when we get there, I meant it about being starved."
He mumbled something vague in agreement and let himself be half-led, half-dragged across Red Square and then up University Way. The bus, when it came, was so packed that Ken ended up squished between Sen and Roy; every breath he took made the mirror dig into his back again. For once, it seemed, Sen's apparent concern was genuine: she remained unusually silent the entire bus ride, tapping his shoulder once to get his attention when they hit the right stop, rather than grab onto one of his backpack straps and tug.
They followed him all the way to his apartment; once inside, Roy moved to pull up the blinds of his windows while Sen tossed her jacket on a coat hook and made a beeline straight to the kitchen. Ken remained in the doorway, listening to the sounds of rummaging: the both of them seemed so at ease in his space, moving through it like there was no question that they belonged in this mundane, quiet world.
Roy headed into the kitchen after Sen. Ken toed off both his shoes and made his way to his living room; he wondered if the weight of the mirror had been what made Jeff Miller shuffle his feet. He knelt beside the coffee table and shrugged off his backpack, settling it into his lap. With a detached calm that surprised him, he unzipped the bag and pulled the mirror free, then held it cradled between both palm. It felt heavier now, cold enough to make his hands ache. In reflection, his face was pale
"Ken!" Sen called from the kitchen. "Sorry, I think I used the last of your cheese for toast, but I think I've got a five on me, I can go get more. You want cheddar again, or swiss? I say go for swiss, variety's good in your life." He heard her footsteps, light and fast on the carpet, coming up behind him. "Ken?"
He closed his eyes, his fingers closing tightly around the mirror. "Sen," he said.
"Hmm?" Cloth rustled, and then her hand was on his shoulder, shaking him. "Hey, you gonna throw up? If you don't get to the bathroom, you're going to *hate* yourself later, because I'm going to kick your ass if I have to clean it up--"
"I'm sorry," he said.
He twisted out of her grip and thrust the mirror up between them, into her face.
+++
Later, when asked, Sen would only say that it *hurt like a bitch* and then smack Ken upside the head, promising slow painful death if he ever tried something like that again.
+++
At first nothing happened. Sen made a surprised sound that ended on a note of irritation, batting at his wrist. "What the hell," she said, "yeah, it's my *face*, Ken, so what--"
Her voice cut off in a strangled gasp. Her foot slammed into his thigh, less of a kick and more of a stagger, and Ken finally made himself look up.
Sen was pressed to the far wall, so pale she was very nearly transparent. Both of her hands were pressed over her mouth, muffling a series of retching noises. Her pupils were blown so wide they nearly eclipsed all the green, and she couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from the mirror.
When Ken looked himself, he saw Sen's reflection slowly melting and shifting, like an image being run through a distortion filter. Every few seconds it would flash with a different image entirely from the woman scrabbling against the wall, always too fast for all the details to come together. As Ken watched, though, the second blinking image began to merge with the first. Sen's already long thin nose was sharper now, extending out from her face along with her jaw, like a--
--like a dog's *muzzle*, Ken thought in slowly-rising amzement--
and from the top of Sen's head were furry ears, large and pointed and really looking nothing like the costume headbands Yuki had favored as a kid. Her pale cheeks had taken on a ruddy tone, and he realized belatedly her reflection was sprouting *fur*, long and silky. Her fingers, still pressed to her distorted mouth, were growing black and curving together, like *paws*--
"Sen!" Roy's voice was like a shot, and Ken jumped, fumbling the mirror and dropping it. It bounced heavily off his knee and hit the ground as Roy came tearing out of the kitchen, headed straight for Sen. She didn't seem to notice him, still blankly straight ahead even as he shrugged out of his coat and threw it around her, scooping her up in his arms like a child. As Ken watched, she started to shrink, her already-loose shirt drooping loosely over a body that no longer fit properly. The legs of her pants flopped against Roy's arm, obviously empty.
Roy's expression when he turned to Ken was ice-cold. He said nothing, but Ken quailed back anyway, as though by hunching his shoulders and tucking his knees to his chest, he could just disappear.
"I'm sorry," he said, so soft he could barely hear himself. "I'm sorry, I just -- I wanted to know --" One of his hands crept up to cover the cat's eye, then closed around it. "There didn't seem to be anything wrong with it. I didn't know. I'm ..."
"Now you do," Roy said quietly. No emotion colored his voice. "She would have told you eventually."
Ken took a deep, sour-tasting breath. His weeks-old anger was still there, sullen and tight in his chest, and he clung to that to focus himself, forcing down the hysteria that wanted to spill out of him. "How soon is eventually?" he asked, still hardly more than a whisper. "When I've graduated? When I'm too old to care?" He made himself look up when his gaze wandered to the side, staring straight at Roy's eyes. "Or how about when someone in my family gets killed because someone out there has it in for *her* and thinks *I* make a convinient target -- no." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. But I wanted to know."
Roy said nothing. Stillness hung between them like a physical thing, strung tightly enough to hum. In spite of his resolution, Ken couldn't quite make himself open his eyes or look up, not when his skin prickled under the weight of Roy's unblinking stare.
After what seemed like hours of waiting, Roy sighed.
"That was truly stupid," he said. The resigned quiet in his voice stung worse than anger. "I know we haven't gotten far in your lessons, but you should have known better. The cat's eye was never meant to be more than a basic protection; there are things powerful enough to mask itself from the energies of a protection charm." Footsteps crossed the floor, and Ken jumped when a hand touched his shoulder. "Go ahead, then. Look. This was what you wanted to know, right?"
Ken licked his lips nervously. He twisted his hand around his necklace until the chain began to cut into the back of his neck. He didn't look up. "I ..."
Roy's hand tightened until Ken's arm began to ache in protest. "Look," he repeated. "Take responsibility for what you've done."
Ken flinched, then slowly lifted his head.
Sitting in Roy's lap, still wrapped in both coat and long black shirt, was a little red fox. It had Sen's bright green eyes and five long identical tails fanned out behind her, and sat with both little black forepaws tucked on Roy's arm. It had such a familiar expression of disgust on its small furry face that Ken leaned in despite himself, staring. The fox leaned in as well until their noses touched, then abruptly snapped its jaws at him. Ken yelped and fell back, thudding into the coffee table behind him. In response to his fall, the fox straightened and yipped; it sounded very much like laughter, and there was no real way to mistake the smug look on it shot him.
Ken blinked rapidly. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand; he'd seen the beginning of the transformation, but somehow this end result hit like a punch to the stomach. "Se," he croaked, and rubbed his eyes again. "*Sen*?!"
The fox yipped again. All five tails began wagging.
"You're a--"
She sneezed at him and then arched her neck, head tilted as though to show off her profile. Ken let himself slump back against the coffee table and tugged again, weakly, at his cat's eye necklace. Laughter bubbled up in his chest now, tasting a little of acid and hysteria and escaping in hiccuping giggles. Sen the fox seemed to be feeling magnimonious enough to forgive it, preening a little as he stared.
"My god," said Ken. "You're a *fox*. Like in Grandfather's stories, you're -- all this time, he ..." He shifted up a little, getting his elbows onto the table for balance, looking her up and down slowly; other than the extra tails and the knowingly bright green eyes, she looked like a completely ordinary red fox. "Did he know? My grandfather -- did he know about you?"
Sen huffed and tossed her head. She looked at him and deliberately nodded.
"Oh." Ken let out a hissing breath through his teeth. "Good," he added belatedly, finally letting go of the cat's eye to rub his face. "I'm glad he knew. You're a -- an honest to god real--" His throat closed up; he couldn't make himself repeat the identification. He wanted to laugh, absurdly -- just put his head between his knees and laugh himself sick. Sicker, at least, until the twisting in his stomach could develop into full naseau. "Holy shit, I don't even know. This is weird."
She wrinkled her nose and wriggled her way out of Roy's lap, picking her way down his leg on delicate little feet before making the brief jump to the ground. She put one paw on Ken's knee and leaned up, peering up into his face. Ken gave another half-hysterical laugh and reached out to cup her small head in one hand. Her fur was soft and dense under his fingers. She tolerated the weight for a moment, then shook him off and pawed a bit at his leg, growling in her throat.
"She needs privacy to change back," said Roy. Most of his anger seemed to have evaporated with Sen's good-natured acceptance, though lingering disappointment flattened the corners of his mouth. He didn't quite look Ken in the eye, focusing on some point just to his left instead. "Or she prefers it, at least."
"Oh," Ken said again lamely. "Uh. My room is--"
Sen pushed off him and turned back to Roy, grabbing the collar of his coat in her teeth and tugging, trying to pull it out from the pile of clothes bundled in his lap. He gently disengaged her jaws from the coat and stood, sliding one hand under her belly and scooping her back up into his arms. "I'll be right back," he said to Ken, and was gone, measured footsteps receeding down the hall. Ken sucked in a breath and held it until he heard his bedroom door open and close again, then let it out in an explosive sigh, head dropping back.
Of all the things he'd thought might happen -- of all the things he'd been afraid of, left to his own imagnation -- this had actually been the last thing he'd anticipated. Even with how Elizabeth's reflection had been distorted, part of him had expected nothing special to come out of showing the mirror to Sen. He'd expected a little playacting with some dramatic staggering until she came close enough to smack him, maybe with a few sharp words for his carelessness, but this--
Ken brought up an arm and draped it over his face. *This*, this had come out of nowhere -- and even though his knees still felt too watery to support his weight, his senses were reeling, trying hard to catch up with what he'd just processed. His grandfather had shown no real preference or distaste for fox-legends; he collected and retold them with the same respectful enthusiasm he had for all his work.
Down the hall, his bedroom door opened again, followed by the sound of footsteps down the hallway. He remained still as possible, listening to the approaching body. It stopped beside him, a foot brushing against his knee. A moment later it vanished, only to reconnect as a solid kick to his thigh. Ken yelped and fell over, his eyes flying open as he curled around his leg. Sen stood over him, both her arms crossed tightly over her chest and tapping her foot rapidly. Her brows were drawn together in an irritated fold and her mouth was pressed into a tight knot.
"That," she said, "was for being *stupid*. What the hell were you *thinking*?! That fucking *hurt*!" She aimed another kick at him, though less hard than before, then crouched down beside him, prodding at his elbow. "Seriously, what *were* you thinking? That could have turned out really badly, you know, if it had been any stronger. In fact ..." She leaned around him, bracing one hand on his bruised thigh and digging her fingers in as she reached for the dropped mirror. She picked it up by its long handle, pinched between thumb and forefinger, and held it far away from herself. Her nose wrinkled as though it smelled like something rotten. "I mean, this is ... ew."
"Ew?" Ken twisted and sat up, scooting a little bit out of the way. "What do you mean, 'ew'?"
She set the mirror down gingerly and moved back herself, right into Roy's legs. Ken jumped at seeing him; unlike Sen, he'd made no sound as he'd come down the hallway. He was wearing his coat again, his hands in his pockets. He met Ken's eyes this time, but his expression gave nothing away. Sen leaned against him, crossing her arms and legs both and sighing.
"There was this story," she said eventually. "In the Otougizoushi -- did Daisuke ever tell you much about it?" She waited for his shrug before she sighed and went on, "Mirrors are a good way to catch us off-guard, you know. Regular mirrors or reflections in the water, nah -- but if you know what you're doing, they'll work better than anything else. Even dogs -- don't let anyone tell you otherwise, eh?" She slanted a glare at him. "Dogs do not have *any* sort of ability to identify us when we're disguised."
"Er," said Ken. "By 'us,' you mean--"
Sen wrinkled her nose expressively at him until his voice trailed off in embarrassment.
"*Anyway*," she went on, "in the Otougizoushi, there's a story about Tamamo-no-Mae. She was a concubine to the Mikado, and his best-beloved, most beautiful, so on and so on." She waved a dismissive hand. "But eventually he fell sick, and an onmyouji discovered it was all her fault. They created a mirror to force her to show her true form, and trap her forever like that." Her lip curled at that, and she rubbed her arms, as though assuring herself they were properly human-shaped. "She was a nine-tails, too, do you know how *awful* that would have been?"
Ken opened his mouth to argue -- or at least to point out that the nine-tailed fox had been *trying to kill the Emperor* by Sen's own admission -- then closed it again after a look from Roy. Sen continued, tipping her head back with a sigh. "So, this mirror, right? Lots of really powerful high-level spells and charms were laid into it. Things to rip your true soul out of you, and leave it exposed and naked. Yanks bits and pieces out of you and doesn't give it back, which is what makes it hard to remake your image again." She tilted her head and opened one eye, staring at him through the messy fall of her hair. "This little toy of yours works along those lines."
He recoiled, looking at the mirror. "What?"
"Luckily, whoever gave that to you was sloppy." She huffed, her head falling forward so that her hair now hid her face. "He didn't lay the spells with any sort of proper groundwork, or even anchor it, really. It started bleeding off a while ago, I don't know--"
Ken's eyes went wide. He shot to his knees. "Shit! Shit, shit, *shit*--" He dove for his backback, tearing through it for his phone. Sen sat up as well, watching him in wide-eyed surprise.
"Ken?" she said. "What the hell--"
"Elizabeth!" he blurted. "She looked in it too, I mean, after me, but still--" He fumbled for the phone, but his hands were shaking hard enough that he dropped it. "*Fuck*--"
"Ken -- *Ken*!" Sen lunged forward, slapping her hand down on top of the phone before Ken could fumble it back up. He tried to scrabble it free and she caught his wrist, jerking it up. "Listen to me. Are you sure *you* looked into it first?"
He stared at her and tried to jerk free. "What, *yes*, the guy who gave it to me, he showed it to me first, but shit, give me that, I need -- I have to check on Elizabeth, see if she's--"
Sen let go of his wrist and grabbed his face in both hands, holding it still and forcing him to look up, into her eyes. "Ken, *listen* for once," she snapped. "Elizabeth's not in trouble."
"How do you know?" he demanded, hearing his voice crack. "You just *said*--"
"Are you listening to yourself?" Sen cut him off, exasperated; she shook him to punctuate each word. "*You were the first to look in the mirror*!"
The breath dried up in Ken's throat; he froze and stared. "Uh," he said. "That's--"
"I told you before," Sen said, without letting go of his face. "Elizabeth doesn't *have* any power, things that focus on the whole 'energy vampire' thing aren't going to be interested in her. Given enough time, yeah, it'll start to affect her, but you and me, Ken, people like you and me ..." She glanced over her shoulder at Roy, who nodded and pulled a cellphone out of his pocket, then turned back to Ken. Her face was grave as he'd ever seen it, which even now still seemed like such a peculiar thing. "We've got a little more going for us. Our souls are closer to the surface, kind of. And you ..." She pried one of his eyes wide open, leaning to peer deep into it. "You're the one in trouble now, kiddo."
Ken rocked back and then slumped against the table, feeling the edge digging into his spine. "Me," he said blankly. "Not ... my family?" He tipped his head slowly up to her. "Just me?"
Sen made an exasperated noise. "Haven't I been telling you that all along?" she asked. "Holy hells, kid. Aren't you supposed to be smart or something?" She rapped her knuckles on the side of his head. He blinked slowly and didn't bother to move away.
"I just thought," he said quietly, then shook his head. "I don't know. I thought ... the other night, with the thing that looked like Yuki ..."
"*That* again?" she demanded. The eyeroll was audible in her tone. "Are you *still* worried about that? I told you! If something like that really had gotten your sister, there's nothing that--"
"No," he said quietly. "It's just. I don't ... I really just don't --" He let his head drop forward, staring down at his hands. "I don't want it to *get* to that point. Ever."
"Huh?" Ken saw her lean partly into his peripherial vision, and he could feel her eyes boring into him intently -- inhumanly, he thought with brief near-hysterical humor; all those little things that had been just a little off about Sen were suddenly making sense, and laughter bubbled up through him before it died away again. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
He let one hand flop limply off his knee. "You don't worry about them," he said softly. "They're still your family -- they're *my* family, and I can't ..." He squeezed his eyes shut at a sudden peculiar lurch of vertigo made his vision swim. "I'm not ..."
"Ken?" Sen's hands caught his face again, this time cold enough to make him flinch. She kept her grip on him, forcing his head up. "Okay, Ken, I need you to stay focused on me, okay? No, no, look at me." She gave him a shake when his gaze began to list to the right. "At me, Ken. I bet you're not feeling that great, are you?"
He squinted at her. Even close as she was, the lines of her face blurred in and out of focus. "I think," he mumbled, wrinkling his nose, "I think my glasses are smudged or something, let me--"
"Ah-ah, no, sorry," Sen said over him. "Why don't you tell me about how much you're pissed off that I don't care about my kids, huh?"
Ken's brow furrowed. A latent bubble of giggles rose up in his chest, and he swallowed it down -- some escaped anyway, though, sounding high and sharp to his own ears. "You don't," he said. "I talked to Avery, he said you don't."
"Did he?" She nodded at him, made him nod back with her hands. "All right. What else?"
"I'm *getting* there," he said. "You don't. You just kill things. It doesn't matter to you. I can't do that, I'm not -- you see," he said, and began to rub at his arms, trying to chafe away the cold creeping in, "now that Jun's moved out, I'm supposed to look out for Yuki. Well, I moved out too, but Jun *moved* moved, he's all the way on the other side of the country--"
"Uh-huh," Sen said. She sounded distracted, glancing over her shoulder. "That's great, Ken, keep talking."
He scowled, batting at her hands on his face. "You're not even *listening*. That's part of the problem right there. You don't *listen*."
"Of course I'm listening," she said quickly. "You're whining again, because you're a kid who doesn't pay attention when *I* talk."
Ken narrowed his eyes. "I do too," he said. "I've got all those exorcisms memorized by now, you know, and it was hell when I had my last test--"
"Right," she said, then got to her feet, finally letting him go. Roy reappeared over her shoulder, with Vincent right behind him. Ken squinted again, tilting his head; he hadn't even heard the front door open.
"Hey," he said. "When'd you get here? ... what are you doing here? I--" He paused and hiccuped loudly; it felt like something was lurching inside his chest. "Excuse me. Um. What's going on?" He turned his head slowly -- it felt leaden and awkward on his neck, too clunky to move properly -- towards Sen. She watched him with an obvious frown, her hands on her hips and Avery at her elbow, and, "Oh," said Ken. "I didn't know you were here too."
Avery smiled at him wanly. In his hands he held a small black box, similiar to the one the cat's eye necklace had been given to Ken in. "Hello," Avery said softly. "How're you feeling?"
"Uhh." Ken hiccuped again and paused to thump his chest. "Dunno. Okay, I guess?" He watched as Vincent emerged from the kitchen, drying his hands on a ragged clean dishtowel. "What's going on?"
"You're sure about this," Vincent said to Sen, ignoring him.
"He practically admitted it," said Sen. She ran a hand through her hair, fisting a clump of it, which left it standing on end. "And the mirror reeks of it. Ugh, I feel gross." She gave a theatrical shiver and made a face. It looked silly on her -- if Ken tilted his head and half-closed his eyes, he could see her fox-face superimposed over the human one, both with the exact same look of disgust. He made a sound that would have been laughter if it tried; instead, it came out more like a weak grunt.
Vincent knelt beside him. With one hand he pinched Ken's nose shut, and with his other hand he caught Ken's jaw, more tightly than Sen had hold on, and pinched until his jaw opened, both on reflex and for need of air. Avery moved as well, kneeling on Ken's other side. He opened the box and accepted a pair of metal pincers from someone -- Ken couldn't quite see who -- before reaching into the box with them and pulling out a small black pill.
"I'm sorry," he said to Ken, sincere and obviously distressed. "I'm really sorry, this is going to taste awful."
Vincent said nothing, but held Ken's mouth open wider so Avery could drop the black pill onto his tongue.
Avery was right: it tasted *vile*. It reminded him of the closet of herbal medicines his dad's mother had kept, in the years before her death -- pungent and musty and metallic-bitter that spread out until it coated the inside of his mouth and throat. Ken started to gag, trying to spit up, spit it out, and Vincent's grip shifted, folding itself over his mouth and holding it shut. He struggled, grabbing at the wrists holding him, trying to claw them away. Someone barked something sharp at him and the pressure tightened over his face as he swallowed. The horrible taste followed the lump in his throat the whole way down, until it settled in his stomach, and still the hand on his face wouldn't let up.
He was distantly aware of soft hands fluttering across his shoulders and a voice telling him, *it's all right, come on, it's okay, just relax, swallow the pill, it's all right,* which really only ratchetted his panic higher because he couldn't *breathe* and the pill was melting on his tongue and he could feel it sinking into him and it *hurt*, hurt worse than not being able to breathe, and he -- he didn't want --
*Sleep*, Vincent said, but the voice seemed to be echoing inside his head rather than in his ears, and though Ken tried to fight it off, still batting weakly at the hands that held him, when the black wave of unconsciousness rose up to him, he sank into it with a groan and nothing more.
+++
"Well," Sen said, when Ken slumped forward into the crook of Vincent's arm, "*that* was all sorts of fun."
Avery looked up at her from where he crouched beside them. His soft face was anxious, twisted up in unhappy lines. "I don't understand," he said. "How could he have even gotten his *hands* on a truth-mirror? Those were banned so long ago ..."
Sen reached out and nudged the object with the toe of one boot. Her human shape still felt strange, like clothes that didn't fit quite right, all awkward angles and uncomfortably exposed skin. It pissed her off: she *liked* this form; she'd spent years cultivating it to look exactly as she wanted. "Yeah, well," she said. "It doesn't really matter if they're banned, you know. People'll still find a way. We're probably lucky this isn't a *real* truth-mirror. If it had been made just a little better ... well." She sidestepped it, watching as Vincent hauled her grandson up into a fireman's hold over his shoulder. "At least he didn't wait to use it."
"Still," Avery said. He got to his feet after Vincent, hands clasped anxiously. "Where on earth could he--"
She snorted, rolling her eyes and glancing ostentatiously to the side. "Where else? When he's at school is the only time me'n Roy leave him alone, because he pitches a fit otherwise. Shows how smart he is, though, taking things from strangers." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder and added, "This way," to Vincent before leading the way to Ken's bedroom. Roy squeezed past Vincent to fall into step beside her, faithfully close as always. When she stumbled, tripping over her own suddenly-unfamiliar feet, he reached out and snagged his fingers in the elbow of her coat, pulling her back on-balance before she actually fell.
Once Ken was deposted on the bed, all ungainly sprawled limbs (and now he *almost* didn't resemble his grandfather, splayed so ungracefully like that), Avery turned to her with that same obvious anxiety on his pretty face. He opened the pillbox again and held it out to her. She immediately recoiled from the smell, hacking a little at the way it gathered in the back of her throat.
"Oh, please," she said. "Do I really have to?"
"You really should," he said, still holding the box to her. "It forced a change out of you, and even if Ken took most of it, it still looks like it packed a punch for you."
"Err." Sen scratched her cheek, looking away. "Nothing a few hours of sleep wouldn't help, I'm sure--"
"Sen," Roy said quietly. "You don't fit in your own skin any more."
She cringed, tossing him a flat-eyed look over her shoulder. He met her glare and just shrugged, unapologetic. She looked back at the box Avery was holding out to her, nose wrinkling at the pungent herbal stink. "Are you sure this is necessary?" she asked, her voice rising into a whine. "I mean. It's just that I haven't actually switched forms in a while that's making things feel weird, that's all, nothing--"
Vincent turned and raised an eyebrow at her. "We could force one down your throat too," he offered. "If that would make it easier."
Sen scowled at him. "How the hell does that make it *easier*?"
"You can say we forced you," he deadpanned. "Would that make you feel better?"
"I am *so* not dignifying that with an answer." She sighed and took the pincers from Avery, pinching her nose shut with her other hand as she selected one of the small black pills. "For the record, I am doing this completely under protest," she added, then closed her eyes and dropped the pill onto her tongue. It tasted as nasty as it smelled, and she couldn't help the shudder of revulsion as she forced herself to swallow the damn thing down. It felt like little fingers crawling down the insides of her throat, settling in the pit of her stomach and then sinking before spreading outwards. "Oh shi-- shoot, oh man, water, please, *water*--"
Roy handed her a water bottle. She scrabbled the cap off and chugged, downing half the contents in a single go. After swallowing she smacked her lips a few times, then scrubbed her bare arm over her mouth in an attempt to wipe away the taste.
"I don't suppose you've made any progress in making these things taste better," she said, as she gave the pincers back.
Avery gave her an apologetic look. "We can't add or change the ingredients," he said. "The recipie is very exact. Changing even a little bit would throw everything out of balance, and it'd lose all potency."
"Still." Sen smacked her lips again, then finished off the rest of the water before tossing the empty bottle back to Roy. "Gross, man. There has to be a way to improve the taste, at least."
"Or," Vincent offered, with a grin and a slanted look over his glasses, "how about just not doing something that stupid, ever again?" He reached out and cuffed the back of her head gently; Sen tolerated it with a grumble and a brief duck. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I swallowed something gross," she said, but allowed him to ruffle her hair briefly before she squirmed out of reach, turning to flop down on Ken's bed. She patted the boy's ankle and recieved a sleepy twitch in response. "I've got a lot of questions for this one, though. I can guess where he got it, but I wanna know when and how." She blew out a heavy breath upwards, puffing her bangs out of her face, and looked down. Ken's own face was slack and loose, his mouth hanging open; he actually looked sort of old and tired in his unconsciousness than young or soft.
Avery hovered beside her anxiously, his hands knotted together. "This might be my fault, a little," he said. "I'm sorry, he came by the shop last weekend, and we were talking -- oh, dear, I'm really sorry--" He pressed his hands to his mouth.
"He's an adult," Vincent said to him, much softer than the tone he'd used for Sen earlier. He hooked an arm around Avery's shoulders and drew him in; when Avery turned to look up at him, that same furrow knitting his brows together, Vincent offered him as gentle a smile as Sen had ever seen on his face. "He acknowledged the dangers, and he's learned enough to take responsibility for his own actions."
"Besides," Sen said, and flapped a careless hand. "He mentioned talking to you. From what he said, I don't think it was you that drove him to this. He's been freaking out about these things for a while." She leaned down and poked Ken in the side; he snorted and twitched to his side. "We had a bit of a fight when that shapeshifter showed up."
"You probably could have handled it better," Roy said mildly. He turned the empty water bottle over in his hands and didn't quite meet Sen's eyes when she looked up, scowling at him. "He was really upset by the whole thing."
"I was going to tell him," she protested. "You know that. Besides, telling him the truth would've just made him more paranoid about the whole 'my family's in trouble' thing, anyway." She shifted her weight, leaning back on both her hands and kicking her legs up.
"Or maybe not," Roy pointed out. "It could have gone well."
She dropped her head back so she could look at him upside-down. "Aren't you supposed to be on my side?"
"Only when you're actually right," Roy deadpanned. "I don't know if you were this time."
"I was totally right!" Sen twisted and shook her fist at him. "You heard him! He was freaking out about his family, not the what I was -- well, okay, maybe he was a little at the end, but how much of that was him just, you know." She looked down at Ken. "With bits of him twisted out of place. That does weird things to you. You start making these decisions, and they all *seem* like great ideas, till you know, everything snaps back into place and you see what you've done."
"He's still responsible," Vincent said firmly. "Using an artifact like that is prohibited by pretty much any agreement or proclamation that's come across in the past five millennia, and he's old enough to know better--"
Sen hopped to her feet, stalking forward until they were chest-to-chest -- as best as possible, at least, with their height differences. The pill felt like it was finally kicking in: she no longer felt quite out of place in her own skin, or awkward in the upright movement of her body, and what unpleasantness remained could easily be ignored. "Sure," she said. "He should have known better. Totally shouldn't have used something like that. Even though he doesn't know anything."
Vincent's eyes narrowed. "That doesn't make him innocent."
"So," she raised her voice, "all right! Let's take him in! Let's punish him for doing something stupid, when there's someone out there who's *making* a mirror like this -- banned a *lot* longer than the use of them, I'll remind you! -- and who's doing it so sloppy that it's disgusting. Oh, and hey, *while* we're at this whole grocery list thing, let's not worry about the guy who's going around summoning revenants and getting on *my* case so that Ken got involved in the first place, okay? Let's just string him up and get him in trouble with all the right people." She poked Vincent in the chest, hard as she could. "Huh? That sounds good to me, what about you?"
He raised an eyebrow, apparently unimpressed. "From what I heard," he said, "you're part of the reason the boy was so worried in the first place."
"Great!" She whirled away and threw her arms wide open, lifting her chin and glaring. "Take me in too, how about that! I bet if you dug around deep enough, you'd find *something* that'd get me in trouble--"
"Sen," Avery said unhappily. He put a hand on Vincent's chest and looked up, peering from under his arm. "Vincent? Please, you two, don't--"
"Aw, c'mon!" Sen thumped both her hands against her chest. "It'll be two for the price of one, and *never mind* the other guy who's running around there--"
"Vincent," Roy said quietly, his tone mild as always, "she's taking responsibility."
Vincent adjusted his glasses with his free hand, looking down his nose at Sen. "So it seems."
"In fact, maybe if you played it right," Roy went on, picking at the label on the water bottle, "we might be persuaded to look into this whole series of incidents in a professional capacity, rather than a personal one. Seems to me that the guy who's running dangerous fakes may be the same guy we took down six months ago."
"Possibly," said Vincent. Sen looked suspiciously from one to the other, then crossed her arms over her chest, hunching her shoulders and setting her jaw in a near-pout.
"Which means that it's just a continuation of that last case," Roy said. He glanced up through his lashes, and the expression might have been *coy* on anyone else, but just looked pointed on him. "We could say that this is just collateral damage."
Vincent's lips pressed to a thin white line. "That doesn't actually absolve him," he said. "The boy could be a danger to others if he's this easily influenced. *Especially* if he's this suggestible, in fact, and I don't think you've been particularly helpful in that regard. Ignoring your fondness because of your blood ties, Sen, you aren't exactly what I'd call an ... ideal teacher." He adjusted his glasses again, and though his expression was deadpan, his eyes were hard and staring.
"Right!" Sen threw her arms open wide, raising her chin, rocking up onto her toes to put her eye-level closer to Vincent's own. "What, when did this become a one-strike-you're-out deal? The kid had his own whole *life* before we came along, give me some credit for what I'm working with here! It's not like he's a kid like Jenny, he's gotta unlearn a bunch of crap before he can learn anything I've got to teach him! What the hell do you expect me to do, I don't see *you* volunteering--"
"Oh!" Avery's eyes went wide. He caught Vincent's sleeve and tugged, looking up. "That's right, the Priestlys, what about them?"
Vincent stopped, caught in his stride. "What?"
"I mean," Avery said earnestly, "what Ken needs right now -- it's a teacher, a better one than Sen can be, right?"
"How rude," Sen muttered, sinking back to rest fully on both feet, kicking at the floor.
"But true," Roy said, and didn't blink when she smacked his arm.
"So," Avery went on, ignoring the two of them, "I mean, John and Marina have been teaching Jennifer, haven't they? Bit by bit, she's learning from both of them. It might -- I think it would do him good, to know he's not the only one who's like ... er. This. They'd know someone, or at the least they could be more support for him, you know, and well, I think -- I think anyone would be comforted, knowing there are more people you can rely on." Avery waved awkwardly, sweeping the entire room with the gesture. "And Marina knew Daisuke, maybe it'd make him feel better -- he said, before, he said that he wished he could talk to Daisuke, so ..."
"He did?" Sen went very still. She cocked her head. "Ken did?"
"Um," said Avery. He rubbed his palms together and glanced down. "Ah, well, yes. When he came to the shop earlier, he was saying ... he misses his grandfather a lot, you know. I think they were close. But yes, Ken said he wished he could talk to Daisuke. About ... all of this, actually. What's been happening to him, meeting Sen--" he glanced up at her briefly, then away again--"things like that."
Sen nibbled her lower lip. She stuck her hands deep into her pockets and rocked on her feet, heels to toes and back again. Roy put a hand on her shoulder to steady her; when she peeked at him from the corner of one eye, his expression was softer than before, aimed at her. It made the fading uncomfortable itch of her skin flare up. She rubbed at her arms, then her neck, tipping her head back and staring blankly at the ceiling. "I see," she said at last. "Huh. Well then. I ..." Her mouth twisted. "I guess that's fair. Daisuke was better at this sort of thing than me, anyway."
"I think it'd be a good idea," Avery said. He tugged on Vincent's sleeve again, curling his fingers in the loose sweater cuff. "I mean, we could call them -- I'm sure Marina would be happy to at least talk to Ken, or John! John's a patient man, and you know, after the things that happened -- he was sort of in Ken's place once, surely he could -- Vincent? Don't you think?" He leaned forward, twisted partly around the taller man, his expression all wide-eyed hope.
Vincent sighed. He pulled his glasses off and polished them off on the hem of his sweater. His gaze wasn't any less focused without them, turned towards Sen and the unconscious boy behind her. "I doubt we'd be able to reach them for a while," he said. "I spoke with John the other night. There's been a rise of activity lately; he and Marina have their hands full." He looked down at the glasses in his hands, then shook his head. "But maybe they'd have time for at least a conversation ..."
"Just having someone to talk to will be good for him," Avery said brightly. "I mean, I think it really helped him when he talked to me, and I'm glad he did! He seemed really relieved when he left. But it'd be better if it was someone who, you know, has more experience he could relate to. We could--"
He stopped suddenly; when Sen looked up, she found him looking straight at her. She straightened a little under the weight of his gaze, scratching at her cheek and looking away before too long. From the corner of one eye, she saw him reach down and slide his fingers between Vincent's before he said, so much more gently now, "We'll take care of disposing of the mirror for you. If you could come by the shop later ..."
"We will," Roy said. He put a hand on the small of Sen's back, his fingers spread wide and allowing her some support when she leaned back. "Thank you both."
Vincent nodded. He stepped forward, still holding Avery's hand, and lifted his other to rest on the top of Sen's head. She glanced up at him from under the fringe of mussed bangs and his fingers. For long seconds he held it there, and then he sighed again, ruffling her hair gently before stepping back. She huffed at him, but just swung her legs, not bothering to smooth her hair back down.
"You both take care," said Vincent. "I'll email John and see if there's a good time to call them."
Avery offered a brief little smile, waving over his shoulder as he let Vincent pull him out of the room. When they were gone, the front door closed behind them and the sense of their presence receeding, she sighed and leaned back harder against Roy's hand, until that was the only thing holding her up. She let her head fall back so she could look at him.
"That," she said, "kind of sucked."
"A little," he agreed. "How are you feeling?"
"Weird." She lifted one leg, arching the foot into a point. "Things still don't feel quite right. It's getting better, though." She rolled her weight onto one hand, leaning to peer into Ken's face. "What was he thinking?"
Roy was silent for a moment. "That he wanted to know, I think," he said quietly. "He wanted to know what you were. He wanted to know why. That's fair, isn't it?"
Sen rubbed her face, ending with a pinch to the bridge of her nose. "This is kind of a mess, isn't it."
"Just a little," said Roy. He smoothed her hair a little, tucking part behind an ear. "But it's not hopeless."
She twisted her mouth into a sideways pout, then tucked her knees up to her chest, wrapping one arm around them and reaching out to smooth the blanket draped over Ken's legs. After a moment she laughed, leaning her chin on her knees and looking up at him. "And almost-hopeless things, that's what we're good at dealing with, right?"
He smiled. "Yeah," he said. "Pretty much."
TODAY'S INSTALLMENT: WHEREIN THINGS HAPPEN. LOTS OF THEM.
Just FYI: it is really difficult to write fic when you plan on using your lunch break at work for research, and realize some of the search threads you need to use are ... things that you're kind of worried about the people who only know you in a professional context seeing. Kind of like when your mom finds out you write porn. (For the record, my mom knows I write fic, but I don't know if she's aware that it's anything but gen. ... I'm actually not entirely sure she even gets the concept, really, of fanfic. It's sometimes awkward!)
ON THE OTHER HAND I've a bit of my writing mojo back, so maybe I can post HGJ fic tomorrow and work more on NaNo. GO BABY GO. As always, please let me know what you think! ♥♥♥
+++++
"Mister Suzuki?"
Ken looked up from his notes, adjusting his glasses. There was a man hovering in the doorway, whom Ken vaguely recognized as always sitting in the front row, right before the professor's podium, and usually hung around after lecture to eavesdrop on questions from the other students. He was older than most of the freshmen -- there was gray creeping into his hair at the temples and crow's feet bunching the corners of his eyes -- and carried himself meekly, always shuffling his feet and keeping his shoulders hunched tightly in. As far as Ken knew, he never spoke to anyone -- not his fellow students, not the other TAs, not even the professor: he just hung in the background and listened, always hovering a little too close to be doing anything but eavesdropping.
"Mister Suzuki," the man said again. He gave Ken a quick, nervous smile. "Um, I'm not, uh, am I interrupting? I'm not, I don't, if you're busy ..."
"Nah," said Ken. He leaned back in his chair. "Office hours are supposed to be when you can come bug me. You can call me 'Ken,' you know."
"Umm." The man shuffled partly into the room, then backstepped halfway, looking from side to side. He wore his backpack hanging off one shoulder and had a thin paper-wrapped package clutched to his chest. "Just. Mister Suzuki -- uh. Ken. I had a few questions."
"That's why I'm here," he said, and gestured to the chair opposite him. "Have a seat. Your name is--?"
"Miller, sir," the man said quickly. "Jeff. Jeff Miller. I'm not in your quiz section, but. I had to talk to you."
"Well," said Ken. He leaned forward, his elbows on the desk. "Your own TA might be able to help you out better, since he or she knows what you've been covering in section -- who is it?"
"Miss Lowe," said Jeff. "She, um. She said. If I had other questions, I should, um, that I should ask you. She said that you were good."
In spite of himself, Ken grinned and ducked his head a little. "She did?"
"Uh. Yeah." Jeff crept his way to the chair finally, sinking down to perch nervously on the edge. He kept the package hugged to his chest. "Besides, uh. I was, um, that is -- my brother, yeah, my brother's a fan of yours. I mean, your grandfather. He, uh. Really admired him."
Ken blinked, and was a little surprised at the vague bittersweet twinge at the mention of his grandfather, which came immediatley followed by a brief stab of guilt: less than a month after his grandfather's death, and he'd been so damn *busy* he'd forgotten proper and respectful grief -- and then his head snapped up as Miller's voice cut off expectantly.
"Huh?" he said, at Miller's look. "I'm sorry, I missed that, what?"
"I said that, uh. Well. I've got this--" He fumbled with the package he held, putting it on the table and pushing it hesitantly at Ken. "This thing. It's been in my family for years, and. And, uh. I was wondering if you could take a look at it ..."
"Me?" Ken looked at the package for a moment -- flat and wide and oval-shaped, like some sort of mirror. "I'm sorry, Jeff, I'm not the expert my grandfather was. If you've got an acid-base question or something, then I could help you, but--"
"You know someone, though, don't you?" Jeff insisted. He leaned forward, both hands pressed to the table to brace his weight. His voice lowered to a loud stage whisper. "Someone special, who could take a look at this and know what it is, maybe tell you what it can do ..."
Ken met Jeff's eyes. He was breathing oddly, wheezing loudly in and out through his nose even though his mouth hung open. Without breaking eye-contact, he carefully pushed the package back across the table, across from himself. "Sorry," he said. "I really wish I could help you, but I don't--"
Jeff caught his wrist. His palm was a little slippery with sweat. Ken jumped and yanked his hand back out of reach; to his surprise, he was able to with a normal amount of effort. Before he could wonder too much on this, though, Jeff leaned forward again, his face pressing in uncomfortably close.
"I know you know her," Jeff said quickly. His breath smelled like stale corn chips. "That woman, the green-eyed demon!"
"Demon?" Ken gave a nervous laugh, leaning back to try and put a bit more distance between them. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Don't tell me you haven't *seen*." Jeff's eyes raked him over anxiously. He pushed the wrapped package towards Ken once more. "You haven't seen the hellfire she summons, the things she can do -- they're not *natural*. SHE isn't natural." He was breathing harder now, nervous quick little pants. "I know she's targetted you, that she's following you around. You must have seen -- she's ruthless, your very *life* is in danger! When she's used you for everything she possibly can, she'll kill you for certain. She's dangerous, more than you'd ever believe!" He gave a half-lunge across the table, knocking over his chair with the force of his movement and grabbing Ken's shirt in both fists. His eyes were wild. "Please, Mister Suzuki -- Ken! You have to believe me!"
Ken held as still as he possibly could for long, uncomfortable seconds. Very slowly, watching the other man's face carefully, he lifted his hands and settled them atop Jeff's, prying those clutching fingers from his shirt. Jeff's hands fell away to the table to brace his weight, so that he remained hovering uncomfortably close, unblinking as he stared into Ken's face. Ken leaned back in his chair, pushing a little away from the desk.
"Listen," he said. "I really am sorry, but I don't think I can help you. I think you should just take your things and go."
Jeff shook his head, never looking away. "Don't you see?" he coaxed, suddenly softspoken and concerned. "What happens to your family if you're hurt? Or if you die? They'll think that it was just an accident -- is that the legacy you want to leave them? Never knowing the truth, never realizing ..." He let out a sigh and collapsed back into his chair like a dropped doll, his face pale and drawn. He reached out and gently took the package in his hands, tipping it up towards Ken. "You can save them from that. They don't have to go through that heartbreak. Think of how that demon will laugh as your mother weeps! Is that what you want?"
Ken swallowed. He took a deep breath. "I don't know what you mean," he said. He tried not to think of Yuki, white with pain and black ichor drooling from both corners of her mouth, or of Avery's rueful smile; he tried to forget the absolute disinterest in Sen's eyes when she cut the throat of a shapeshifter with her granddaughter's face, and the weight of a knife in his own hands. When he spoke again, he was amazed at how steady his voice sounded. "Please, just take your things and leave."
"You idiot!" Jeff exploded forward again, as though reenergized by Ken's refusal, practically spitting the words. "Blind self-important idiot! It's a mirror -- here, see --" He ripped through the brown paper wrapping of the package, revealing a medium-sized hand mirror. It was cracked in the corner and there were spots of rust on the glass itself, and etched into the rim of the glass was a line of precise Chinese characters. The brass handle was smooth and dull with age. Ken saw his own face reflected in the mirror back at him; his expression bordered somewhere between worried and incredulous.
Jeff picked the mirror up with obvious reverence and all but shoved it into Ken's chest, so that he caught it by reflex. Something like relief passed across Jeff's face, smoothing his features into relaxation. "You see," he said. "It's just a mirror. But it'll show you the truth of things. You'll see then. You'll understand."
Ken turned the mirror over gingerly, using only his fingertips to touch it. "Seriously," he said, and couldn't quite look the other man in the eye. "I don't want this."
Jeff just smiled at him beautifically. He got to his feet, adjusting the strap of his backpack across his shoulder. "Trust me," he said. "Once you see her for what she really is, you'll thank me."
"Isn't that stupid, though?" Ken asked. "If I -- let's say that I were to use this mirror on someone, hypothetically. Wouldn't that put me or my family in danger?"
If anything, Jeff's smile grew wider, almost angelic. "Creatures like her are always stunned, when their glamor is broken," he said. "If you force her to see her true self and you name her in that moment, she will be powerless to hurt you. In fact ..." He reached out and ran his finger down the line of characters before he glanced up at Ken through his lashes. "With the proper words, you could force a promise out of her. Something that would bind her to your will -- make her swear that she'll never bother you or yours again."
Ken swallowed. It sounded very loud in his ears. "Why are you giving me this?"
Jeff got to his feet. He looked at Ken with something akin to pity. "Because you're not the first life she interfered with," he said. "And I can't ..." He shuddered; a worn hunted look flashing in his eyes and then was gone. "I can't rest, not until I know she can no longer continue her sins. Someone important to me was--" he bit his lip, face ashen. "The mirror will help you."
He gave the mirror a fond look before he turned and headed out of the cramped office, as hesitantly as he had come. Ken half-expected him to pause in the doorway and throw back some last admonishment or pithy warning, but he simply shuffled away without even a backwards glance, even humming a little as the door closed gently behind him.
Ken looked at the mirror in his hands, then carefully set it aside. Belatedly he brought his hand up to cover the lump in his shirt from the cat's eye necklace.
A mirror to force her true shape, and a spell to bind her by her given name. Ken set the mirror aside on the far corner of his desk and put his face into his hands, just breathing slowly. An ache had gathered at the base of his neck, spreading slowly across his shoulders, but the cat's eye remained cool on his skin.
He was still sitting like that when there was a knock at the office door. He looked up in time to see Elizabeth poke her head in, smiling broadly at him.
"Surprise!" she said. "I brought you food. Are your office hours over?"
"You should know," he said, and finally let himself relax a bit, elbows on his desk. "You're the one sending people to me."
"Did I?" She slipped into the room, pushing the door shut with her foot behind herself. She was carrying two white takeout boxes from the cafeteria, stacked one on top of the other, which she brought to the table and set down; one smelled distinctly of alfredo, and it made his stomach growl. "I don't know, I think I'd remember that."
He raised an eyebrow at her. "What, so you're not siccing your students on me now?"
"Why would I something like that?" she asked, grinning as she handed him a fork. "It's like pulling teeth to get anyone to come to my office hours, especially the ones that actually come for *advice*, and not so they can freak out at me about the tests, like I'll take pity on 'em and slip 'em the answers." She shook her head and opened one of the boxes -- salad -- and prodded it with her fork. "Hey, what's that?"
He looked; she was pointing at the mirror by his elbow. "Oh," he said. "That. Just something that a friend of my grandfather's dropped off. I'm uh," he gave a brief nervous laugh, "I'm thinking about giving it to Yuki."
"Just the thing that girl needs," Elizabeth said, smiling. "More excuses to focus on her looks. May I see?"
Ken hesitated. Elizabeth raised an expectant eyebrow at him, and he finally swallowed hard and slid the mirror partway over to her, so that she had to lean over to look into it. A moment later her smile faded, and she reached up to press her fingers to her cheekbones, just under her eyes.
"Ken," she said evenly, "what kind of mirror is this?"
"Huh?" He rose out of his chair, bending over to check himself. His own reflection looked completely normal, with his familiar face peering back at him from.
Elizabeth's, on the other hand, was missing its eyes.
Everything else was where it should be in the mirror's face: her long nose and thin mouth pinched into a worried line, the loose curls of long hair framing her oval face. However, where the eyes should have been, above her fingers -- also clearly and correctly reflected -- there was just smooth blank skin. Ken sucked in a huge breath. She looked up at him, and he was more relieved than he wanted to admit, seeing her eyes in their proper place, even opened wide and filled with worry.
"Haha," she said weakly, her mouth twitching in a forced smile. "So, uh, don't tell me -- it's a trick mirror, right? Something that, um, makes the foreground person look funny, so they're creeped out. Right?"
He held his breath, searching her expression. Something lingered in her eyes that almost, *almost* remembered; he could see the fragment of memory surface and then fade away again, leaving only frustrated anxiety. With effort he smiled and reached to pat her hand, unsurprised when it turned and caught at his, clutching tightly. He rubbed his thumb along the side of her hand and pulled the mirror out of the way, this time setting it down to lean against his chair on the floor.
"Sure," he said softly. "A trick mirror. That's all."
+++
"There you are," Sen said, when Ken emerged from the depths of Bagley Hall, trailing after the last of the Chem 152 students. She heaved herself down off the bannister, landing in a crouch with her arms out and her coat fluttering around her; under it, she was wearing jeans and a black shirt with sleeves so long they gloved her hands. A heartbeat later she popped upright again, thrusting her arms into the air. "Great! Let's go, it's *freezing*."
"It's not that bad," Roy said mildly. He was leaning against the same cement ledge Sen had been perched on a moment before, in his ubiquitous gray duster, turtleneck, and jeans; when Ken looked at him, he gave a brief friendly nod. "Actually, it's a bit warm for this time of year."
"Ugh." Sen made a face, then exhaled loudly, squinting at the plume of white steam that came from her mouth. "If I can still see *that*, it's too cold. I'm ready for the spring!" She flung herself at Roy, catching his arm and dangling from it limply. "... I think I just stepped into a puddle, too. Ew."
Roy smiled faintly. He lifted a hand and patted her head twice, just the flat of his palm, and chuckled when she whined and batted at the offending limb.
Ken watched, tucking his own hands into his pockets. In his backpack, he could feel the edge of the mirror pressed up against his spine by the weight of his papers. He felt hyperaware of how shifts in his own weight moved it against him. Down the steps from him, Sen untangled herself from Roy and staggered out of range, shaking her fist and laughing at him; pink-cheeked from the cold and laughing through her mock anger, she looked just like another student, harmless and in good health. There was no visible trace of the hard-eyed woman who'd been willing to cut her own granddaughter's throat, or the drill master with the sharp-toothed smile that had been riding his ass for nearly a month to teach him wards and detection spells in half a dozen languages.
He felt lightheaded and sick.
He took one step down and felt the edge of the mirror dig into his back. Sen turned to him with bright eyes and said something about food on the Ave -- *I'm starving and if you don't feed me, I won't be responsible for my actions* -- and he nodded quietly, not quite willing to trust his voice. She cheered, for all the world like a little kid, and snagged his arm, dragging him down the last two steps, making a beeline past Drumheller Fountain, across Red Square, and towards University Way. Roy trailed behind; Ken glanced over once to see that same indulgent little smile on Roy's face, and the obvious affection when Sen announced -- loud enough for everyone on the block to hear -- that she wanted *Indian*, so they were going to get *Indian*, speak now or forever hold your peace.
Ken ducked his head and concentrated on not being sick.
"Ken?" There was a pause in Sen's litany, and she tugged at his arm until he glanced at her. "Hey, kiddo, you don't look so hot. Maybe we should take you back instead?"
He ducked his head further, watching her from the corner of one eye: she appeared genuinely concerned, lips pursed and brow furrowed, her fingers loose against his wrist. He looked away. "That would require you being nice to me," he said, and apparently he sounded normal enough that she laughed, slapping his shoulder and letting him go.
"Hey, sometimes, I can be!" she said, backstepping enough that she could point a finger at him. "When I want to. Today I feel generous."
He snorted, managing a faint smile. "I'm not paying for your takeout."
She snapped, still grinning, half-rising to bounce on her toes. "Damn. I wanted to go somewhere expensive, too."
"You always want to go somewhere expensive," Roy said fondly, finally pushing away from his ledge. He brushed past Ken easily and put a hand on Sen's shoulder, turning her to face north. "He's on a student's budget, remember."
"Yeah, and what about us?" Sen demanded. She ducked under Roy's hand and caught Ken's wrist, pulling him forward until she could tuck her arm around his. Her elbow brushed the edge of his backpack. Ken froze, but she went on blithely, leaning forward and using him as a brace for her weight, "We're on an even smaller one right now! It's the least he could do, with all the lessons we're giving him." She glanced back. "That was a hint, by the way."
"Right," he said. He smiled weakly, more at his own feet than at either of them. "Maybe this weekend, though, I guess I'm more tired than I thought ..."
"Seriously?" She peered into his face, then tugged again on his arm, drawing him forward, step by step, towards Red Square. "Huh, I told you that you were looking kinda green. Fine, we'll take you home -- but next time!" She shook a finger at him, pouting for effect. "Next time, you're going to buy me something to eat, and I am totally raiding your kitchen when we get there, I meant it about being starved."
He mumbled something vague in agreement and let himself be half-led, half-dragged across Red Square and then up University Way. The bus, when it came, was so packed that Ken ended up squished between Sen and Roy; every breath he took made the mirror dig into his back again. For once, it seemed, Sen's apparent concern was genuine: she remained unusually silent the entire bus ride, tapping his shoulder once to get his attention when they hit the right stop, rather than grab onto one of his backpack straps and tug.
They followed him all the way to his apartment; once inside, Roy moved to pull up the blinds of his windows while Sen tossed her jacket on a coat hook and made a beeline straight to the kitchen. Ken remained in the doorway, listening to the sounds of rummaging: the both of them seemed so at ease in his space, moving through it like there was no question that they belonged in this mundane, quiet world.
Roy headed into the kitchen after Sen. Ken toed off both his shoes and made his way to his living room; he wondered if the weight of the mirror had been what made Jeff Miller shuffle his feet. He knelt beside the coffee table and shrugged off his backpack, settling it into his lap. With a detached calm that surprised him, he unzipped the bag and pulled the mirror free, then held it cradled between both palm. It felt heavier now, cold enough to make his hands ache. In reflection, his face was pale
"Ken!" Sen called from the kitchen. "Sorry, I think I used the last of your cheese for toast, but I think I've got a five on me, I can go get more. You want cheddar again, or swiss? I say go for swiss, variety's good in your life." He heard her footsteps, light and fast on the carpet, coming up behind him. "Ken?"
He closed his eyes, his fingers closing tightly around the mirror. "Sen," he said.
"Hmm?" Cloth rustled, and then her hand was on his shoulder, shaking him. "Hey, you gonna throw up? If you don't get to the bathroom, you're going to *hate* yourself later, because I'm going to kick your ass if I have to clean it up--"
"I'm sorry," he said.
He twisted out of her grip and thrust the mirror up between them, into her face.
+++
Later, when asked, Sen would only say that it *hurt like a bitch* and then smack Ken upside the head, promising slow painful death if he ever tried something like that again.
+++
At first nothing happened. Sen made a surprised sound that ended on a note of irritation, batting at his wrist. "What the hell," she said, "yeah, it's my *face*, Ken, so what--"
Her voice cut off in a strangled gasp. Her foot slammed into his thigh, less of a kick and more of a stagger, and Ken finally made himself look up.
Sen was pressed to the far wall, so pale she was very nearly transparent. Both of her hands were pressed over her mouth, muffling a series of retching noises. Her pupils were blown so wide they nearly eclipsed all the green, and she couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from the mirror.
When Ken looked himself, he saw Sen's reflection slowly melting and shifting, like an image being run through a distortion filter. Every few seconds it would flash with a different image entirely from the woman scrabbling against the wall, always too fast for all the details to come together. As Ken watched, though, the second blinking image began to merge with the first. Sen's already long thin nose was sharper now, extending out from her face along with her jaw, like a--
--like a dog's *muzzle*, Ken thought in slowly-rising amzement--
and from the top of Sen's head were furry ears, large and pointed and really looking nothing like the costume headbands Yuki had favored as a kid. Her pale cheeks had taken on a ruddy tone, and he realized belatedly her reflection was sprouting *fur*, long and silky. Her fingers, still pressed to her distorted mouth, were growing black and curving together, like *paws*--
"Sen!" Roy's voice was like a shot, and Ken jumped, fumbling the mirror and dropping it. It bounced heavily off his knee and hit the ground as Roy came tearing out of the kitchen, headed straight for Sen. She didn't seem to notice him, still blankly straight ahead even as he shrugged out of his coat and threw it around her, scooping her up in his arms like a child. As Ken watched, she started to shrink, her already-loose shirt drooping loosely over a body that no longer fit properly. The legs of her pants flopped against Roy's arm, obviously empty.
Roy's expression when he turned to Ken was ice-cold. He said nothing, but Ken quailed back anyway, as though by hunching his shoulders and tucking his knees to his chest, he could just disappear.
"I'm sorry," he said, so soft he could barely hear himself. "I'm sorry, I just -- I wanted to know --" One of his hands crept up to cover the cat's eye, then closed around it. "There didn't seem to be anything wrong with it. I didn't know. I'm ..."
"Now you do," Roy said quietly. No emotion colored his voice. "She would have told you eventually."
Ken took a deep, sour-tasting breath. His weeks-old anger was still there, sullen and tight in his chest, and he clung to that to focus himself, forcing down the hysteria that wanted to spill out of him. "How soon is eventually?" he asked, still hardly more than a whisper. "When I've graduated? When I'm too old to care?" He made himself look up when his gaze wandered to the side, staring straight at Roy's eyes. "Or how about when someone in my family gets killed because someone out there has it in for *her* and thinks *I* make a convinient target -- no." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. But I wanted to know."
Roy said nothing. Stillness hung between them like a physical thing, strung tightly enough to hum. In spite of his resolution, Ken couldn't quite make himself open his eyes or look up, not when his skin prickled under the weight of Roy's unblinking stare.
After what seemed like hours of waiting, Roy sighed.
"That was truly stupid," he said. The resigned quiet in his voice stung worse than anger. "I know we haven't gotten far in your lessons, but you should have known better. The cat's eye was never meant to be more than a basic protection; there are things powerful enough to mask itself from the energies of a protection charm." Footsteps crossed the floor, and Ken jumped when a hand touched his shoulder. "Go ahead, then. Look. This was what you wanted to know, right?"
Ken licked his lips nervously. He twisted his hand around his necklace until the chain began to cut into the back of his neck. He didn't look up. "I ..."
Roy's hand tightened until Ken's arm began to ache in protest. "Look," he repeated. "Take responsibility for what you've done."
Ken flinched, then slowly lifted his head.
Sitting in Roy's lap, still wrapped in both coat and long black shirt, was a little red fox. It had Sen's bright green eyes and five long identical tails fanned out behind her, and sat with both little black forepaws tucked on Roy's arm. It had such a familiar expression of disgust on its small furry face that Ken leaned in despite himself, staring. The fox leaned in as well until their noses touched, then abruptly snapped its jaws at him. Ken yelped and fell back, thudding into the coffee table behind him. In response to his fall, the fox straightened and yipped; it sounded very much like laughter, and there was no real way to mistake the smug look on it shot him.
Ken blinked rapidly. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand; he'd seen the beginning of the transformation, but somehow this end result hit like a punch to the stomach. "Se," he croaked, and rubbed his eyes again. "*Sen*?!"
The fox yipped again. All five tails began wagging.
"You're a--"
She sneezed at him and then arched her neck, head tilted as though to show off her profile. Ken let himself slump back against the coffee table and tugged again, weakly, at his cat's eye necklace. Laughter bubbled up in his chest now, tasting a little of acid and hysteria and escaping in hiccuping giggles. Sen the fox seemed to be feeling magnimonious enough to forgive it, preening a little as he stared.
"My god," said Ken. "You're a *fox*. Like in Grandfather's stories, you're -- all this time, he ..." He shifted up a little, getting his elbows onto the table for balance, looking her up and down slowly; other than the extra tails and the knowingly bright green eyes, she looked like a completely ordinary red fox. "Did he know? My grandfather -- did he know about you?"
Sen huffed and tossed her head. She looked at him and deliberately nodded.
"Oh." Ken let out a hissing breath through his teeth. "Good," he added belatedly, finally letting go of the cat's eye to rub his face. "I'm glad he knew. You're a -- an honest to god real--" His throat closed up; he couldn't make himself repeat the identification. He wanted to laugh, absurdly -- just put his head between his knees and laugh himself sick. Sicker, at least, until the twisting in his stomach could develop into full naseau. "Holy shit, I don't even know. This is weird."
She wrinkled her nose and wriggled her way out of Roy's lap, picking her way down his leg on delicate little feet before making the brief jump to the ground. She put one paw on Ken's knee and leaned up, peering up into his face. Ken gave another half-hysterical laugh and reached out to cup her small head in one hand. Her fur was soft and dense under his fingers. She tolerated the weight for a moment, then shook him off and pawed a bit at his leg, growling in her throat.
"She needs privacy to change back," said Roy. Most of his anger seemed to have evaporated with Sen's good-natured acceptance, though lingering disappointment flattened the corners of his mouth. He didn't quite look Ken in the eye, focusing on some point just to his left instead. "Or she prefers it, at least."
"Oh," Ken said again lamely. "Uh. My room is--"
Sen pushed off him and turned back to Roy, grabbing the collar of his coat in her teeth and tugging, trying to pull it out from the pile of clothes bundled in his lap. He gently disengaged her jaws from the coat and stood, sliding one hand under her belly and scooping her back up into his arms. "I'll be right back," he said to Ken, and was gone, measured footsteps receeding down the hall. Ken sucked in a breath and held it until he heard his bedroom door open and close again, then let it out in an explosive sigh, head dropping back.
Of all the things he'd thought might happen -- of all the things he'd been afraid of, left to his own imagnation -- this had actually been the last thing he'd anticipated. Even with how Elizabeth's reflection had been distorted, part of him had expected nothing special to come out of showing the mirror to Sen. He'd expected a little playacting with some dramatic staggering until she came close enough to smack him, maybe with a few sharp words for his carelessness, but this--
Ken brought up an arm and draped it over his face. *This*, this had come out of nowhere -- and even though his knees still felt too watery to support his weight, his senses were reeling, trying hard to catch up with what he'd just processed. His grandfather had shown no real preference or distaste for fox-legends; he collected and retold them with the same respectful enthusiasm he had for all his work.
Down the hall, his bedroom door opened again, followed by the sound of footsteps down the hallway. He remained still as possible, listening to the approaching body. It stopped beside him, a foot brushing against his knee. A moment later it vanished, only to reconnect as a solid kick to his thigh. Ken yelped and fell over, his eyes flying open as he curled around his leg. Sen stood over him, both her arms crossed tightly over her chest and tapping her foot rapidly. Her brows were drawn together in an irritated fold and her mouth was pressed into a tight knot.
"That," she said, "was for being *stupid*. What the hell were you *thinking*?! That fucking *hurt*!" She aimed another kick at him, though less hard than before, then crouched down beside him, prodding at his elbow. "Seriously, what *were* you thinking? That could have turned out really badly, you know, if it had been any stronger. In fact ..." She leaned around him, bracing one hand on his bruised thigh and digging her fingers in as she reached for the dropped mirror. She picked it up by its long handle, pinched between thumb and forefinger, and held it far away from herself. Her nose wrinkled as though it smelled like something rotten. "I mean, this is ... ew."
"Ew?" Ken twisted and sat up, scooting a little bit out of the way. "What do you mean, 'ew'?"
She set the mirror down gingerly and moved back herself, right into Roy's legs. Ken jumped at seeing him; unlike Sen, he'd made no sound as he'd come down the hallway. He was wearing his coat again, his hands in his pockets. He met Ken's eyes this time, but his expression gave nothing away. Sen leaned against him, crossing her arms and legs both and sighing.
"There was this story," she said eventually. "In the Otougizoushi -- did Daisuke ever tell you much about it?" She waited for his shrug before she sighed and went on, "Mirrors are a good way to catch us off-guard, you know. Regular mirrors or reflections in the water, nah -- but if you know what you're doing, they'll work better than anything else. Even dogs -- don't let anyone tell you otherwise, eh?" She slanted a glare at him. "Dogs do not have *any* sort of ability to identify us when we're disguised."
"Er," said Ken. "By 'us,' you mean--"
Sen wrinkled her nose expressively at him until his voice trailed off in embarrassment.
"*Anyway*," she went on, "in the Otougizoushi, there's a story about Tamamo-no-Mae. She was a concubine to the Mikado, and his best-beloved, most beautiful, so on and so on." She waved a dismissive hand. "But eventually he fell sick, and an onmyouji discovered it was all her fault. They created a mirror to force her to show her true form, and trap her forever like that." Her lip curled at that, and she rubbed her arms, as though assuring herself they were properly human-shaped. "She was a nine-tails, too, do you know how *awful* that would have been?"
Ken opened his mouth to argue -- or at least to point out that the nine-tailed fox had been *trying to kill the Emperor* by Sen's own admission -- then closed it again after a look from Roy. Sen continued, tipping her head back with a sigh. "So, this mirror, right? Lots of really powerful high-level spells and charms were laid into it. Things to rip your true soul out of you, and leave it exposed and naked. Yanks bits and pieces out of you and doesn't give it back, which is what makes it hard to remake your image again." She tilted her head and opened one eye, staring at him through the messy fall of her hair. "This little toy of yours works along those lines."
He recoiled, looking at the mirror. "What?"
"Luckily, whoever gave that to you was sloppy." She huffed, her head falling forward so that her hair now hid her face. "He didn't lay the spells with any sort of proper groundwork, or even anchor it, really. It started bleeding off a while ago, I don't know--"
Ken's eyes went wide. He shot to his knees. "Shit! Shit, shit, *shit*--" He dove for his backback, tearing through it for his phone. Sen sat up as well, watching him in wide-eyed surprise.
"Ken?" she said. "What the hell--"
"Elizabeth!" he blurted. "She looked in it too, I mean, after me, but still--" He fumbled for the phone, but his hands were shaking hard enough that he dropped it. "*Fuck*--"
"Ken -- *Ken*!" Sen lunged forward, slapping her hand down on top of the phone before Ken could fumble it back up. He tried to scrabble it free and she caught his wrist, jerking it up. "Listen to me. Are you sure *you* looked into it first?"
He stared at her and tried to jerk free. "What, *yes*, the guy who gave it to me, he showed it to me first, but shit, give me that, I need -- I have to check on Elizabeth, see if she's--"
Sen let go of his wrist and grabbed his face in both hands, holding it still and forcing him to look up, into her eyes. "Ken, *listen* for once," she snapped. "Elizabeth's not in trouble."
"How do you know?" he demanded, hearing his voice crack. "You just *said*--"
"Are you listening to yourself?" Sen cut him off, exasperated; she shook him to punctuate each word. "*You were the first to look in the mirror*!"
The breath dried up in Ken's throat; he froze and stared. "Uh," he said. "That's--"
"I told you before," Sen said, without letting go of his face. "Elizabeth doesn't *have* any power, things that focus on the whole 'energy vampire' thing aren't going to be interested in her. Given enough time, yeah, it'll start to affect her, but you and me, Ken, people like you and me ..." She glanced over her shoulder at Roy, who nodded and pulled a cellphone out of his pocket, then turned back to Ken. Her face was grave as he'd ever seen it, which even now still seemed like such a peculiar thing. "We've got a little more going for us. Our souls are closer to the surface, kind of. And you ..." She pried one of his eyes wide open, leaning to peer deep into it. "You're the one in trouble now, kiddo."
Ken rocked back and then slumped against the table, feeling the edge digging into his spine. "Me," he said blankly. "Not ... my family?" He tipped his head slowly up to her. "Just me?"
Sen made an exasperated noise. "Haven't I been telling you that all along?" she asked. "Holy hells, kid. Aren't you supposed to be smart or something?" She rapped her knuckles on the side of his head. He blinked slowly and didn't bother to move away.
"I just thought," he said quietly, then shook his head. "I don't know. I thought ... the other night, with the thing that looked like Yuki ..."
"*That* again?" she demanded. The eyeroll was audible in her tone. "Are you *still* worried about that? I told you! If something like that really had gotten your sister, there's nothing that--"
"No," he said quietly. "It's just. I don't ... I really just don't --" He let his head drop forward, staring down at his hands. "I don't want it to *get* to that point. Ever."
"Huh?" Ken saw her lean partly into his peripherial vision, and he could feel her eyes boring into him intently -- inhumanly, he thought with brief near-hysterical humor; all those little things that had been just a little off about Sen were suddenly making sense, and laughter bubbled up through him before it died away again. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
He let one hand flop limply off his knee. "You don't worry about them," he said softly. "They're still your family -- they're *my* family, and I can't ..." He squeezed his eyes shut at a sudden peculiar lurch of vertigo made his vision swim. "I'm not ..."
"Ken?" Sen's hands caught his face again, this time cold enough to make him flinch. She kept her grip on him, forcing his head up. "Okay, Ken, I need you to stay focused on me, okay? No, no, look at me." She gave him a shake when his gaze began to list to the right. "At me, Ken. I bet you're not feeling that great, are you?"
He squinted at her. Even close as she was, the lines of her face blurred in and out of focus. "I think," he mumbled, wrinkling his nose, "I think my glasses are smudged or something, let me--"
"Ah-ah, no, sorry," Sen said over him. "Why don't you tell me about how much you're pissed off that I don't care about my kids, huh?"
Ken's brow furrowed. A latent bubble of giggles rose up in his chest, and he swallowed it down -- some escaped anyway, though, sounding high and sharp to his own ears. "You don't," he said. "I talked to Avery, he said you don't."
"Did he?" She nodded at him, made him nod back with her hands. "All right. What else?"
"I'm *getting* there," he said. "You don't. You just kill things. It doesn't matter to you. I can't do that, I'm not -- you see," he said, and began to rub at his arms, trying to chafe away the cold creeping in, "now that Jun's moved out, I'm supposed to look out for Yuki. Well, I moved out too, but Jun *moved* moved, he's all the way on the other side of the country--"
"Uh-huh," Sen said. She sounded distracted, glancing over her shoulder. "That's great, Ken, keep talking."
He scowled, batting at her hands on his face. "You're not even *listening*. That's part of the problem right there. You don't *listen*."
"Of course I'm listening," she said quickly. "You're whining again, because you're a kid who doesn't pay attention when *I* talk."
Ken narrowed his eyes. "I do too," he said. "I've got all those exorcisms memorized by now, you know, and it was hell when I had my last test--"
"Right," she said, then got to her feet, finally letting him go. Roy reappeared over her shoulder, with Vincent right behind him. Ken squinted again, tilting his head; he hadn't even heard the front door open.
"Hey," he said. "When'd you get here? ... what are you doing here? I--" He paused and hiccuped loudly; it felt like something was lurching inside his chest. "Excuse me. Um. What's going on?" He turned his head slowly -- it felt leaden and awkward on his neck, too clunky to move properly -- towards Sen. She watched him with an obvious frown, her hands on her hips and Avery at her elbow, and, "Oh," said Ken. "I didn't know you were here too."
Avery smiled at him wanly. In his hands he held a small black box, similiar to the one the cat's eye necklace had been given to Ken in. "Hello," Avery said softly. "How're you feeling?"
"Uhh." Ken hiccuped again and paused to thump his chest. "Dunno. Okay, I guess?" He watched as Vincent emerged from the kitchen, drying his hands on a ragged clean dishtowel. "What's going on?"
"You're sure about this," Vincent said to Sen, ignoring him.
"He practically admitted it," said Sen. She ran a hand through her hair, fisting a clump of it, which left it standing on end. "And the mirror reeks of it. Ugh, I feel gross." She gave a theatrical shiver and made a face. It looked silly on her -- if Ken tilted his head and half-closed his eyes, he could see her fox-face superimposed over the human one, both with the exact same look of disgust. He made a sound that would have been laughter if it tried; instead, it came out more like a weak grunt.
Vincent knelt beside him. With one hand he pinched Ken's nose shut, and with his other hand he caught Ken's jaw, more tightly than Sen had hold on, and pinched until his jaw opened, both on reflex and for need of air. Avery moved as well, kneeling on Ken's other side. He opened the box and accepted a pair of metal pincers from someone -- Ken couldn't quite see who -- before reaching into the box with them and pulling out a small black pill.
"I'm sorry," he said to Ken, sincere and obviously distressed. "I'm really sorry, this is going to taste awful."
Vincent said nothing, but held Ken's mouth open wider so Avery could drop the black pill onto his tongue.
Avery was right: it tasted *vile*. It reminded him of the closet of herbal medicines his dad's mother had kept, in the years before her death -- pungent and musty and metallic-bitter that spread out until it coated the inside of his mouth and throat. Ken started to gag, trying to spit up, spit it out, and Vincent's grip shifted, folding itself over his mouth and holding it shut. He struggled, grabbing at the wrists holding him, trying to claw them away. Someone barked something sharp at him and the pressure tightened over his face as he swallowed. The horrible taste followed the lump in his throat the whole way down, until it settled in his stomach, and still the hand on his face wouldn't let up.
He was distantly aware of soft hands fluttering across his shoulders and a voice telling him, *it's all right, come on, it's okay, just relax, swallow the pill, it's all right,* which really only ratchetted his panic higher because he couldn't *breathe* and the pill was melting on his tongue and he could feel it sinking into him and it *hurt*, hurt worse than not being able to breathe, and he -- he didn't want --
*Sleep*, Vincent said, but the voice seemed to be echoing inside his head rather than in his ears, and though Ken tried to fight it off, still batting weakly at the hands that held him, when the black wave of unconsciousness rose up to him, he sank into it with a groan and nothing more.
+++
"Well," Sen said, when Ken slumped forward into the crook of Vincent's arm, "*that* was all sorts of fun."
Avery looked up at her from where he crouched beside them. His soft face was anxious, twisted up in unhappy lines. "I don't understand," he said. "How could he have even gotten his *hands* on a truth-mirror? Those were banned so long ago ..."
Sen reached out and nudged the object with the toe of one boot. Her human shape still felt strange, like clothes that didn't fit quite right, all awkward angles and uncomfortably exposed skin. It pissed her off: she *liked* this form; she'd spent years cultivating it to look exactly as she wanted. "Yeah, well," she said. "It doesn't really matter if they're banned, you know. People'll still find a way. We're probably lucky this isn't a *real* truth-mirror. If it had been made just a little better ... well." She sidestepped it, watching as Vincent hauled her grandson up into a fireman's hold over his shoulder. "At least he didn't wait to use it."
"Still," Avery said. He got to his feet after Vincent, hands clasped anxiously. "Where on earth could he--"
She snorted, rolling her eyes and glancing ostentatiously to the side. "Where else? When he's at school is the only time me'n Roy leave him alone, because he pitches a fit otherwise. Shows how smart he is, though, taking things from strangers." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder and added, "This way," to Vincent before leading the way to Ken's bedroom. Roy squeezed past Vincent to fall into step beside her, faithfully close as always. When she stumbled, tripping over her own suddenly-unfamiliar feet, he reached out and snagged his fingers in the elbow of her coat, pulling her back on-balance before she actually fell.
Once Ken was deposted on the bed, all ungainly sprawled limbs (and now he *almost* didn't resemble his grandfather, splayed so ungracefully like that), Avery turned to her with that same obvious anxiety on his pretty face. He opened the pillbox again and held it out to her. She immediately recoiled from the smell, hacking a little at the way it gathered in the back of her throat.
"Oh, please," she said. "Do I really have to?"
"You really should," he said, still holding the box to her. "It forced a change out of you, and even if Ken took most of it, it still looks like it packed a punch for you."
"Err." Sen scratched her cheek, looking away. "Nothing a few hours of sleep wouldn't help, I'm sure--"
"Sen," Roy said quietly. "You don't fit in your own skin any more."
She cringed, tossing him a flat-eyed look over her shoulder. He met her glare and just shrugged, unapologetic. She looked back at the box Avery was holding out to her, nose wrinkling at the pungent herbal stink. "Are you sure this is necessary?" she asked, her voice rising into a whine. "I mean. It's just that I haven't actually switched forms in a while that's making things feel weird, that's all, nothing--"
Vincent turned and raised an eyebrow at her. "We could force one down your throat too," he offered. "If that would make it easier."
Sen scowled at him. "How the hell does that make it *easier*?"
"You can say we forced you," he deadpanned. "Would that make you feel better?"
"I am *so* not dignifying that with an answer." She sighed and took the pincers from Avery, pinching her nose shut with her other hand as she selected one of the small black pills. "For the record, I am doing this completely under protest," she added, then closed her eyes and dropped the pill onto her tongue. It tasted as nasty as it smelled, and she couldn't help the shudder of revulsion as she forced herself to swallow the damn thing down. It felt like little fingers crawling down the insides of her throat, settling in the pit of her stomach and then sinking before spreading outwards. "Oh shi-- shoot, oh man, water, please, *water*--"
Roy handed her a water bottle. She scrabbled the cap off and chugged, downing half the contents in a single go. After swallowing she smacked her lips a few times, then scrubbed her bare arm over her mouth in an attempt to wipe away the taste.
"I don't suppose you've made any progress in making these things taste better," she said, as she gave the pincers back.
Avery gave her an apologetic look. "We can't add or change the ingredients," he said. "The recipie is very exact. Changing even a little bit would throw everything out of balance, and it'd lose all potency."
"Still." Sen smacked her lips again, then finished off the rest of the water before tossing the empty bottle back to Roy. "Gross, man. There has to be a way to improve the taste, at least."
"Or," Vincent offered, with a grin and a slanted look over his glasses, "how about just not doing something that stupid, ever again?" He reached out and cuffed the back of her head gently; Sen tolerated it with a grumble and a brief duck. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I swallowed something gross," she said, but allowed him to ruffle her hair briefly before she squirmed out of reach, turning to flop down on Ken's bed. She patted the boy's ankle and recieved a sleepy twitch in response. "I've got a lot of questions for this one, though. I can guess where he got it, but I wanna know when and how." She blew out a heavy breath upwards, puffing her bangs out of her face, and looked down. Ken's own face was slack and loose, his mouth hanging open; he actually looked sort of old and tired in his unconsciousness than young or soft.
Avery hovered beside her anxiously, his hands knotted together. "This might be my fault, a little," he said. "I'm sorry, he came by the shop last weekend, and we were talking -- oh, dear, I'm really sorry--" He pressed his hands to his mouth.
"He's an adult," Vincent said to him, much softer than the tone he'd used for Sen earlier. He hooked an arm around Avery's shoulders and drew him in; when Avery turned to look up at him, that same furrow knitting his brows together, Vincent offered him as gentle a smile as Sen had ever seen on his face. "He acknowledged the dangers, and he's learned enough to take responsibility for his own actions."
"Besides," Sen said, and flapped a careless hand. "He mentioned talking to you. From what he said, I don't think it was you that drove him to this. He's been freaking out about these things for a while." She leaned down and poked Ken in the side; he snorted and twitched to his side. "We had a bit of a fight when that shapeshifter showed up."
"You probably could have handled it better," Roy said mildly. He turned the empty water bottle over in his hands and didn't quite meet Sen's eyes when she looked up, scowling at him. "He was really upset by the whole thing."
"I was going to tell him," she protested. "You know that. Besides, telling him the truth would've just made him more paranoid about the whole 'my family's in trouble' thing, anyway." She shifted her weight, leaning back on both her hands and kicking her legs up.
"Or maybe not," Roy pointed out. "It could have gone well."
She dropped her head back so she could look at him upside-down. "Aren't you supposed to be on my side?"
"Only when you're actually right," Roy deadpanned. "I don't know if you were this time."
"I was totally right!" Sen twisted and shook her fist at him. "You heard him! He was freaking out about his family, not the what I was -- well, okay, maybe he was a little at the end, but how much of that was him just, you know." She looked down at Ken. "With bits of him twisted out of place. That does weird things to you. You start making these decisions, and they all *seem* like great ideas, till you know, everything snaps back into place and you see what you've done."
"He's still responsible," Vincent said firmly. "Using an artifact like that is prohibited by pretty much any agreement or proclamation that's come across in the past five millennia, and he's old enough to know better--"
Sen hopped to her feet, stalking forward until they were chest-to-chest -- as best as possible, at least, with their height differences. The pill felt like it was finally kicking in: she no longer felt quite out of place in her own skin, or awkward in the upright movement of her body, and what unpleasantness remained could easily be ignored. "Sure," she said. "He should have known better. Totally shouldn't have used something like that. Even though he doesn't know anything."
Vincent's eyes narrowed. "That doesn't make him innocent."
"So," she raised her voice, "all right! Let's take him in! Let's punish him for doing something stupid, when there's someone out there who's *making* a mirror like this -- banned a *lot* longer than the use of them, I'll remind you! -- and who's doing it so sloppy that it's disgusting. Oh, and hey, *while* we're at this whole grocery list thing, let's not worry about the guy who's going around summoning revenants and getting on *my* case so that Ken got involved in the first place, okay? Let's just string him up and get him in trouble with all the right people." She poked Vincent in the chest, hard as she could. "Huh? That sounds good to me, what about you?"
He raised an eyebrow, apparently unimpressed. "From what I heard," he said, "you're part of the reason the boy was so worried in the first place."
"Great!" She whirled away and threw her arms wide open, lifting her chin and glaring. "Take me in too, how about that! I bet if you dug around deep enough, you'd find *something* that'd get me in trouble--"
"Sen," Avery said unhappily. He put a hand on Vincent's chest and looked up, peering from under his arm. "Vincent? Please, you two, don't--"
"Aw, c'mon!" Sen thumped both her hands against her chest. "It'll be two for the price of one, and *never mind* the other guy who's running around there--"
"Vincent," Roy said quietly, his tone mild as always, "she's taking responsibility."
Vincent adjusted his glasses with his free hand, looking down his nose at Sen. "So it seems."
"In fact, maybe if you played it right," Roy went on, picking at the label on the water bottle, "we might be persuaded to look into this whole series of incidents in a professional capacity, rather than a personal one. Seems to me that the guy who's running dangerous fakes may be the same guy we took down six months ago."
"Possibly," said Vincent. Sen looked suspiciously from one to the other, then crossed her arms over her chest, hunching her shoulders and setting her jaw in a near-pout.
"Which means that it's just a continuation of that last case," Roy said. He glanced up through his lashes, and the expression might have been *coy* on anyone else, but just looked pointed on him. "We could say that this is just collateral damage."
Vincent's lips pressed to a thin white line. "That doesn't actually absolve him," he said. "The boy could be a danger to others if he's this easily influenced. *Especially* if he's this suggestible, in fact, and I don't think you've been particularly helpful in that regard. Ignoring your fondness because of your blood ties, Sen, you aren't exactly what I'd call an ... ideal teacher." He adjusted his glasses again, and though his expression was deadpan, his eyes were hard and staring.
"Right!" Sen threw her arms open wide, raising her chin, rocking up onto her toes to put her eye-level closer to Vincent's own. "What, when did this become a one-strike-you're-out deal? The kid had his own whole *life* before we came along, give me some credit for what I'm working with here! It's not like he's a kid like Jenny, he's gotta unlearn a bunch of crap before he can learn anything I've got to teach him! What the hell do you expect me to do, I don't see *you* volunteering--"
"Oh!" Avery's eyes went wide. He caught Vincent's sleeve and tugged, looking up. "That's right, the Priestlys, what about them?"
Vincent stopped, caught in his stride. "What?"
"I mean," Avery said earnestly, "what Ken needs right now -- it's a teacher, a better one than Sen can be, right?"
"How rude," Sen muttered, sinking back to rest fully on both feet, kicking at the floor.
"But true," Roy said, and didn't blink when she smacked his arm.
"So," Avery went on, ignoring the two of them, "I mean, John and Marina have been teaching Jennifer, haven't they? Bit by bit, she's learning from both of them. It might -- I think it would do him good, to know he's not the only one who's like ... er. This. They'd know someone, or at the least they could be more support for him, you know, and well, I think -- I think anyone would be comforted, knowing there are more people you can rely on." Avery waved awkwardly, sweeping the entire room with the gesture. "And Marina knew Daisuke, maybe it'd make him feel better -- he said, before, he said that he wished he could talk to Daisuke, so ..."
"He did?" Sen went very still. She cocked her head. "Ken did?"
"Um," said Avery. He rubbed his palms together and glanced down. "Ah, well, yes. When he came to the shop earlier, he was saying ... he misses his grandfather a lot, you know. I think they were close. But yes, Ken said he wished he could talk to Daisuke. About ... all of this, actually. What's been happening to him, meeting Sen--" he glanced up at her briefly, then away again--"things like that."
Sen nibbled her lower lip. She stuck her hands deep into her pockets and rocked on her feet, heels to toes and back again. Roy put a hand on her shoulder to steady her; when she peeked at him from the corner of one eye, his expression was softer than before, aimed at her. It made the fading uncomfortable itch of her skin flare up. She rubbed at her arms, then her neck, tipping her head back and staring blankly at the ceiling. "I see," she said at last. "Huh. Well then. I ..." Her mouth twisted. "I guess that's fair. Daisuke was better at this sort of thing than me, anyway."
"I think it'd be a good idea," Avery said. He tugged on Vincent's sleeve again, curling his fingers in the loose sweater cuff. "I mean, we could call them -- I'm sure Marina would be happy to at least talk to Ken, or John! John's a patient man, and you know, after the things that happened -- he was sort of in Ken's place once, surely he could -- Vincent? Don't you think?" He leaned forward, twisted partly around the taller man, his expression all wide-eyed hope.
Vincent sighed. He pulled his glasses off and polished them off on the hem of his sweater. His gaze wasn't any less focused without them, turned towards Sen and the unconscious boy behind her. "I doubt we'd be able to reach them for a while," he said. "I spoke with John the other night. There's been a rise of activity lately; he and Marina have their hands full." He looked down at the glasses in his hands, then shook his head. "But maybe they'd have time for at least a conversation ..."
"Just having someone to talk to will be good for him," Avery said brightly. "I mean, I think it really helped him when he talked to me, and I'm glad he did! He seemed really relieved when he left. But it'd be better if it was someone who, you know, has more experience he could relate to. We could--"
He stopped suddenly; when Sen looked up, she found him looking straight at her. She straightened a little under the weight of his gaze, scratching at her cheek and looking away before too long. From the corner of one eye, she saw him reach down and slide his fingers between Vincent's before he said, so much more gently now, "We'll take care of disposing of the mirror for you. If you could come by the shop later ..."
"We will," Roy said. He put a hand on the small of Sen's back, his fingers spread wide and allowing her some support when she leaned back. "Thank you both."
Vincent nodded. He stepped forward, still holding Avery's hand, and lifted his other to rest on the top of Sen's head. She glanced up at him from under the fringe of mussed bangs and his fingers. For long seconds he held it there, and then he sighed again, ruffling her hair gently before stepping back. She huffed at him, but just swung her legs, not bothering to smooth her hair back down.
"You both take care," said Vincent. "I'll email John and see if there's a good time to call them."
Avery offered a brief little smile, waving over his shoulder as he let Vincent pull him out of the room. When they were gone, the front door closed behind them and the sense of their presence receeding, she sighed and leaned back harder against Roy's hand, until that was the only thing holding her up. She let her head fall back so she could look at him.
"That," she said, "kind of sucked."
"A little," he agreed. "How are you feeling?"
"Weird." She lifted one leg, arching the foot into a point. "Things still don't feel quite right. It's getting better, though." She rolled her weight onto one hand, leaning to peer into Ken's face. "What was he thinking?"
Roy was silent for a moment. "That he wanted to know, I think," he said quietly. "He wanted to know what you were. He wanted to know why. That's fair, isn't it?"
Sen rubbed her face, ending with a pinch to the bridge of her nose. "This is kind of a mess, isn't it."
"Just a little," said Roy. He smoothed her hair a little, tucking part behind an ear. "But it's not hopeless."
She twisted her mouth into a sideways pout, then tucked her knees up to her chest, wrapping one arm around them and reaching out to smooth the blanket draped over Ken's legs. After a moment she laughed, leaning her chin on her knees and looking up at him. "And almost-hopeless things, that's what we're good at dealing with, right?"
He smiled. "Yeah," he said. "Pretty much."
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Character interaction is still A+++! I appreciate that other people acknowledge that Sen may possibly be handling things a little badly.
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I'm so very glad to hear that, too♥♥ (And yeah, most of the characters are pretty aware that Sen's not exactly the most responsible person, and Avery's about the only one who's willing to let it slide. Mostly. XD)
♥♥♥♥ thank you for reading~~~ :D
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And Vincent was awesome~! That "we could force it down your throat" line was great XDXD.
And yay Priestlys...not that I'm biased or anything ^^;;.
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I could probably stand to explain the bit with Elizabeth's eyes a bit better (she's had her eyes bound by magic, so those are her "real" eyes they're seeing reflected), but Ken ... it's a pill. It's a magic pill made by an angel; do I really need to be more specific than that? ;)
Yes, Priestlys! I've been taking a break from the story for a few days to recharge, but I'm pretty sure that I'm at least going to tackle the phone call in the next few scenes. So we're getting there! We're getting somewhere! CHARGE! :Db
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1. I like Sen! I appreciate the dimension you've added with her true form and stuff, that's really cool. I like her phases, she's very pleasingly dynamic.
2. AVERY IS ADORABLE AND I WANT ONE. Oh man. *grabby hands* Socute. I'll have to get a rehash of his and Vincent's physical descriptions when you get a chance. :D
3. I really think I hate you for this one, but I have a distressing amount of empathy for Ken. This happens with very few characters that aren't mine, so it's really disorienting. But oh man I feel sick. XD That was kind of awful. I chalk part of this up to the caffeine I've had today, but I was definitely feeling chipper before your boy got sick. Ughh.
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1. ♥♥ Sen's a jerk from time to time, but half of it is that she just doesn't get people, not on more than a shallow level. But she's so much fun to wriiiiiite♥
2. >DDDDDDDDDDDD Everyone likes Avery! I HAVE BEEN SUCCESSFUL WITH HIM~ \o/ And if I see you online tonight, I will happily give you physical descriptions of him and Vincent♥
3. DD: o-on the one hand, I'm glad you're empathizing with Ken! The poor kid's going through a lot! On the other, eep, feeling sick is totally not cool. D: I, I'm sorry?
♥
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1. THE LOOSE CANNONS ALWAYS ARE. I love writing unpredictable characters. They sort of end up writing themselves, you know?
2. Iiiii will probably be on for a while tonight, considering today's the last day of classes. Also, I has a sketch for you and a series of unfortunate associations I harbor for the term "dancefic."
3. It's totally a good thing on most levels. XD This happened to me last year, like...narrator gets a headache! Caroline gets a headache! I am an emotive writer/reader! 8D; So yes, consider yourself successful. XD