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Malachi blinked, looking across his lap to the big man with shy curiosity and wonder. Mack was very gentle for such a large fellow...and obviously so passionate a soul as well. The boy swallowed, sniffling once. His full lips twitched about as he fiddled his feet back and forth. He understood indeed that whatever this profound secret was, it was serious...and very, very important to this other male. Obviously it wasn't just one of those "adult" things.
The mute slowly nodded, rubbing one arm across his face, just under his nose. 'I'm sorry,' he apologized. Malachi lift his head then to look into Mack's features. 'I didn't mean to sound like I was snooping around. I wasn't, honest. You don't have to tell me. I'm not asking. I'm sorry if I made you upset. Just....just please don't leave soon?' The boy begged, tilting his head. His brow knit as large, brown eyes shifted back and forth in their round sockets searching the others' features. 'I don't want you to.' |
"I don't want to." He promised, or as close as he felt safe in coming. "Believe me when I say that." He reached to tousle the boys features gently with his massive rough hand. "I'll tell you someday, when I'm ready. Understand it's an ugly thing."
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To hear the large man speak those words seemed to certainly comfort the young boy. It would have to be enough for now--he understood that from Mack, and understood it well for himself--but Malachi did not ask for more. He would content himself with that. After all, having this peculiar stranger as a friendly companion in his life was already more than the mute could've dreamed or asked for!
The boy blinked and blushed, lifting his hands as if to flail and fend off Mack's huge paw. Though he succeeded more in wobbling in stance before plopping right over backwards onto the couch's cushions. A crooked smirk remained on his features in any case. An impish light shown in his dark optics as if the youngster intended to leap up and pounce Mack. But instead he scrambled to kneeling atop the cushion and poked the man's scars on his face. 'Worse than that, ugly?' Malachi teased, waiting until Mack were to move his head even slightly so that he could "spring his trap" and poke the adult male in the nose with a triumphant, silent laugh. As if somehow doing so was payback for the hair-touseling. |
The scars were heavy, slick with scar tissue, and totally void of any of the modern efforts that would have gone into minimizing them, to the touch, some of them even had the trace pinches of stitches warping their edges, and they twisted up slightly when he gave one of his more enigmatic smiles, though he obligingly turned his head to the boy.
"Much much worse. Worse than my worst scars, and you haven't seen them." |
Malachi gave a slight crooked pout. Before he seemed to get struck by an idea. Plopping onto his rear again he worked at wriggling off one worn and beaten shoe. Wriggling his toes--the big one sticking out of his many-times-stitched sock--he tugged off tis stocking. 'I've got a bad toe.'
The mute pointed to his left ring--or what would've been his ring finger on his hand--toe where its knuckle was stuck curled in a somewhat humped manner. 'Mother told me once when I was really little I caught it in a drain or pothole or something like that in the snow...and nearly snapped it clear off.' Malachi shrugged and offered a crooked grin. 'I still walk good enough. Some stuff doesn't heal or heal right but doesn't make you wrong either.' |
"You know, every so often you're wise beyond your years." Mack pointed out with another soft laugh. His own jigsaw hands weren't quite so obvious, most of the scars there required searching for, or a revelation by touch. His 'father' at least had had taken care there. Some were just unavoidable, the remnants of the unfortunate dead that had given him life. It was where they didn't line up, like his shoulder, that it became clear that he was unusual.
"You're right, but I don't like people to wonder over them too much." |
Malachi blinked innocently and looked back up to Mack. He twitched a slight grin, blushing ever so softly. 'I try?' he offered as if uncertain of just what to say. He'd been told more than once he was a smart lad. But only by those that had taken any time to understand him. Namely his mother...and Desre. Even though none ever compared to his mother. But then mothers had a way with doting upon their young didn't they? Building them up with soft praise.
The mute offered a wry grin as he wrestled to put back on his sock and shoe, shrugging at Mack. Once finished, he looked over towards the big man again. 'I was only teasing anyways. After all, you keep being silly! I wanted to be silly back! I don't think you're ugly.' |
"I looked better before the scars." He admitted. "Although I suppose they draw attention away from the eyes. Unfortunate inheritance from my father." He joked. "I didn't exactly get a choice." He pantomimed an conversation between himself and the man who had carved his face up in terror.
"Well, would you like blue eyes? brown eyes? Yellow eyes? I'm somewhat partial to yellow...they stand out very much." "Hmm. Thanks but I think I'll go with brown. At eight feet tall I do rather stand out as it is, but thank you..." |
Malachi stared at the big man with his dark brow furrowing slowly for the antics. Childish features screwed up in skeptical humor once more. 'You're weird,' he teased with a silent scoffed laugh. 'You don't go out and pick eyes anyways..unless you're a crow and that's not nice to talk about.' He made a very disgusted face before shoving on Mack's arm. 'I think you think you look very bad more than you are. You're funny looking and all cut up...but you're nicer than you look. And that's what matters.'
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Mack laughed and toustled Malachai's hair again. "I appreciate that. Sorry, I suppose I tend to have something of a gallows-humor." He paused and gestured vaguely, looking for a better way to explain the term. "A dark sense of humor."
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Malachi gave a pouting look, swatting at Mack's hands again with an impish smirk as if trying to fight off some great monster. It hardly seemed to work. The mute sighed soundlessly and slumped his shoulders, feigning surrender as he just sat there with his hair a mess, hands in his lap, staring at the big man through dark strands with a crooked smirk. He shrugged. 'Least you can still laugh?' the boy offered. 'It's sad when people don't laugh. They're no fun and always grumpy a lot.'
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"This is true, though I think we all have periods where we forget how to laugh, just to remember how good it feels when we do." He sighed slightly as he looked at the time and shrugged. "Although I should probably return you to Desere's care. She'll be worried.
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Malachi frowned and nodded. He knew he didn't laugh or smile for quite awhile after his mother had passed away. It had been times of cold, loneliness, and uncertainty.
The boy blinked and yawned, trying to stifle the action as he shook his head with a lazy shrug. 'Maybe...sometimes she forgets where I've gone but doesn't worry so long as I show up in one piece again,' he explained with a wry grin that didn't entirely dispatch the growing tiredness to his gaze. |
"Well, my little church-mouse, you're so quiet she probably doesn't hear you." He noted. "Come on, lets get you back home."
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'Not my fault,' Malachi signed. After all, it wasn't like he'd asked to be born mute. And he was a young boy...he could make plenty of noise. The lad crooked a grin but gave a lazy nod, slipping off the couch back to his feet. He gathered up his sketching supplies and then offered his hand out to Mack for the big man to lead him back.
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"It has it's ups and downs I'm sure." he suggested, not having meant the boys lack of a voice as far as quiet. On top of that he moved quietly, which could, if you didn't have the ears for it, or were listening to the sounds inherant to a bar, even one without customers in it, make him hard to track.
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The boy shrugged again as he clutched to Mack's hand to meander towards the door. Sure there were times that his being quiet was really helpful. Like when he'd sneak into the Pantheon Theatre to watch the movies from the shadows. And if he ever wanted to try to sneak around bullies --and of course caught sight of them first so he'd know they were ahead-- and times he did not want to wake Desre. But there were also so many times that Malachi desperately wished he could be heard. Could be understood.
By the time the duo at last moved towards the tavern, The Ruby's Den, the mute was definitely dragging his feet and lowering his head as if exhaustion was taking its toll. The light coming from out from the tinted windows was dim and hinted at the late hour. Pushing open the door, the two would find the whole of the bar emptied save one soul. Behind the counter, a woman worked at scrubbing a cloth inside of a glass, her back towards them. Though at the noise she glanced over one shoulder, one dark brow lifting on high. |
Mack, who's massive form filled most of the doorway, ducked his head slightly to try and make himself visually smaller.
"Good evening." He offered. "Are you Desere?" He asked, stooping to pat Malachai gently on the shoulder, checking to make sure the small boy wasn't going to steer into a table or stool. "I hope you don't mind, I thought I would walk him home from the Pantheon. It's dark out and there was trouble earlier with some older boys." He excluded the part about the car, he had no intention of telling her about the mistake, but it seemed good for her to be warned about the others. |
Desre arched her brow as she stared at this strange behemoth meandering in beside and just behind the wobbling mute. "Aye, I am," she drawled in a tone that cleanly spoke she wished to know who the heck was asking. "And you are....?" the woman pressed verbally.
Malachi lifted his fingers as if to try to sign only to slur his movements together and nearly drop his sketching supplies. Fumbling, the boy stooped to gather them again as he started to move towards the nearest chair to collapse in. The bar tending mistress looked from her young companion to the stranger and back again. Before Mack's words made her square her shoulders. Whomever he was, he'd been around the boy and found him at the theatre Malachi was often frequenting. "Trouble?" Instantly she set down the glass she'd been working on and slapped her hands on her hips. "Some little punks trying to give you hell again, boy?" Malachi waved at the air with one hand, his head already slumping heavily against the chair. "What the heck happened this time?" |
"I missed most of it." he offered, trying to buy the boy a few moments to finish falling asleep. "I'm sorry. I'm Mikael Strom." he offered. "call me Mack." He offered. "I have an apartment over the Pantheon." He offered by way of further explanation, as it occurred to him the woman might think he was stalking the boy, or dangerous. Both ideas made him duck his head again, to shadow and hide his scars. "I should go then..."
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Desre frowned, giving a nod at the introduction as way of acknowledgment. "Ah, so that's where ya two buddied up? The theatre?" she mumbled as much to herself as to the men. The woman took a breath and looked back to the exhausted mute. She gave a huff, running one hand over her features to push back her loose bangs. "Well, I guess I'll just have to fish for the rest of the tale tomorrow."
The bartendress stepped from behind the counter, glancing only once at Mack as mentioned leaving. She was hardly going to stop him that was for certain. Not like she intended to have some large stranger stick around if he preferred to leave. And though Malachi would've protested Mack's disappearance--or at least wished to say some sort of farewell and goodnight--the mute was out like a light by then. Desre shooed the gentle giant on his way then as she sighed, tilting the boy's chin to catch sight of the nasty bruise there. She glowered sideways towards the guardian that had brought him home and then just groaned, scooping the little lad up into her arms. "Gotta carry you upstairs now, do I?" |
Mack seemed to shrink further into himself at the sight of the bruise, wrapping his arms around himself as he hunched over like a gargoyle.
"...Unfortunately I didn't get there in time to prevent everything. They threw his scrap book on the ground, but I think we recovered all of the pages." He offered, then with a faint growl in his voice. "But I don't think at least one of them will try it again for a while." He shrugged deeply and moved to go. He could come back another time, try and make sure Malachai made it where he was going safely. "Please tell him I said good night." He asked, moving to vanish back into the darkness as she went to carry the exhausted child to his bed. |
Desre blinked and looked over at the big behemoth with a quirked brow. There was something about the obvious distaste in his voice that made her want to believe the bruise had indeed not come from the man but from someone else. Plus considering the size of his hands....She gave a sigh, shaking her head. "There's always someone trying to pick on the weak link," the bar tender grumbled.
She fussed about trying to gather Malachi's sketch book but ended up just leaving it. She'd come back for the thing later. The woman glanced at Mack. "Sure," she quipped half-heartedly before moving on towards the stairs to carry the mute up to his little cot set within her own room. As if dismissing the other man with nothing more than that. did you want to skip then til the next day ? |
((Sounds like a plan. I'll move ahead to Mack the next day.))
-- The sun was barely over the line of the buildings by the time 'Mikal Strom' had risen from bed, and was standing at his hazy window, yellow eyes half narrowed as he stared out over what he could see of the city, the heels of his hand resting lightly on the window sill as he watched a flock of pigeons reel into the sky. Bare to the waist, his scars were temporarily laid bare, and he stepped away, considering them with an downward glance, before grabbing an huge gray mass of knitting off of the bed that passed for an sweater largely rendered shapeless, brushed his hair absently and headed for the door, locking the small apartment behind him. His destination was first for a cup of coffee, and then to visit a small bakery and bring a loaf of sweet, slightly doughy coffee bread to the bar, as further apology. He would leave it be, and then go, he figured, looking for some of the bullies that were troubling Malachai. Worse came to worse he could follow them. He didn't figure they would have the stones to try following -him-, though he'd been wrong before. |
Malachi gave a mighty stretch as he yawned and shifted about in his seat off to one side of the bar behind the main counter. Desre had reminded him of the night previous and how Mikal had said good bye--or Mack, when the mute just stared at her funny. The boy had flushed at being remembered so and sadly falling asleep before he could've given the big man a proper farewell and goodnight himself. Though, for the woman guardian it was the tale of the bullies that had far more interested her. Malachi fidgeted as she pressed about it and explained that he didn't recall whom it was. He didn't really want anymore trouble and the lad's mother had been good at teaching him to let things roll from off his shoulders moreso than holding grudges. Though it seemed neither of his "chosen" guardians were of the same persona.
The youth just stayed huddled, picking up another cup to scrub at in the bin of washwater he had nestled between his feet in front of his tiny stool. He was on house arrest under Desre's demand and quickly put to work in helping her ready things for the opening of the bar that morning. |
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