FFM8 - Family Dynamics
Silence wasn't afraid of many things, or at least that is what tiny little Vera would boast to any stranger that passed. He was the greatest older brother, with his way with plants that could take hold of the dead and lift them up. He could cover people who had passed in vines that would give them movement of a sort, and by some magic he refused to name, they would live again.
Vera wasn't allowed to know about the necromancy part of it all. He had taken up plants to change it, disfigure what was already angry and unnatural with something a child could understand. Even then, as he placed the last candle on a birthday cake of flesh, he wondered how long the forever six year old attitude would continue. It'd already been close to a century, in this predicament.
She was undead, on the brink of never again waking in the morning. Not that Vera really needed to sleep, but a habit from life is an awfully hard thing to let go of, he supposed. Silence donned his gardening gloves, and stepped out into the tiny courtyard off the kitchen. It had been difficult for him to convince Giovanni to give him space for things. His employer did not see Vera as a child, but as a monstrosity.
Monsters didn't have the right to grow up in a normal seeming household. (Necromancy was a normal hobby.)
Silence took the time to snip at the lavender, the sage. He could easily sell dried herbs under the table, and perhaps buy a nice doll for his sister. St. John's Wart was next, and took all of his attention.
The sliding door clicked shut. He did not look up, and instead allowed his sister to wander unsupervised. She knew what was poisonous and what wasn't, at this point. Silence had the vague understanding that Vera only liked being outside for the bright colors. He had been assured by various physicians and alchemists that in her current state, Vera could still see the brightest of colors.
There was a tiny scream, and arms wrapped themselves around his leg. Vera watched her brother carefully, continuously giving dirty looks to the various striped bees floating around them. Silence had only recently explained that bees were important to his work, his magic that she liked oh so much.
Vera did not understand. She only knew that bees looked like wasps, and wasps were bad. Terrible even. They had invaded her room in search of the source of the sweet smell of decay that clung to everything around the girl.
Wasps were pushy, more than butterflies. Vera was okay with butterflies swarming her. But wasps didn't like movement, they would fight it. Vera could still feel pain, it was only lessened, and when a horde of wasps sting because she wouldn't sit still.
Well.
She was more than wary now. Silence ruffled her hair, and she got up only to help carry the cut herbs in. He would show her how to tie them up, again and again until Vera remembered. Then there would be cake that she could have and Silence would decline for a reason that she didn't get to know, and didn't understand. Instead, he wouldn't eat. He would put her to sleep, and then go down the hill to help Gregory put away the "god-awful chickens" with feathers colored like Easter eggs and the habitual abuse to Gregory.
Vera would giggle about it, and Silence would be none the wiser until Gregory had to babysit. She would stare at his bald head intently for a moment, and then decide that she did not know why the Easter colored chickens attacked him so.
Silence cut her cake into what could be called a dainty portion, and tried not to cringe when blood began to pool on the newly cleaned counter tops. He gave her a nice silver fork that Vera always insisted on using, and watched the fight between her pride and her nature decided if she would use it or not.
He took the time to scrub the counters, again. It was the same for every meal, six or seven times a day- depending on Vera's nap. He would feed her, and hope that the blood wouldn't stick to white marble counter tops this time. He hoped it wouldn't stick, as Giovanni would be terribly unhappy.
He was supposed to put her down months ago, for the last time. Permanently. But, well, Silence was very devoted to his plants. And his plants were very devoted to the dead, and pulling them closer to the land of the living all over again.
Comments