Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Day Five-Forty-Three: Stealth Bard

I have reconciled with Libby, for the most part. She's out, she's working, she's… no longer super-fat, and she's happy to have a kid. Still a little weirded out, but there's been no wholesale rejection of Fynn, nor a dreamy acceptance that smacks of Grayson's weird love. They have a normal mother-and-child relationship, and thank the gods for it. I worried about that for a long time. (Guess his abnormal size isn't, y'know, a thing.)

One problem down. The other… the other still eludes me. Edmund.

Edmund has been my second priority. Ever since this started he's been keeping away from me. I have it on good authority that he's left his cabin, but I can't freaking find him on this stupid ship of ours. Wherever I am, he is not. Wherever I am not, he is. Dude's like my shadow, and whenever I turn around he stays on the backs of my heels.

(And I don't mean shadow in the sense that he's black. That… that might be racist. I think? I still prefer the word 'chocolate', myself. Though when I… tasted… um… Bora… she… well, you know what, let's just nevermind about that. Nevermind. They aren't actually made of chocolate, is the point, and I know that now.)

I don't know how Ed is managing to constantly elude my grasp, and I'm still not entirely sure why he's bothering to flee, so I went to a secondary source of knowledge on the thing that's been plaguing my mind.

"Hey, Bora, how'd you get chocolate skin? Was it from your parents, or did you spend too much time in the sun, or what?"

Bora, cleaning a dish behind the bar of the Neo Beefiary, cocked an eyebrow at me. "Oh, ya talkin' to me now? Thought I was bein' shunned for no good reason."

Bile in the back of my throat. Eugh, that kiss. "Yeah, fine, sorry. Look. I need some info. Ed won't talk to me."

Bora turned her back to me. "Might be 'cause you're a prat. Oh, or, maybe, maybe it's 'cause, I dunno, your kid looks a LOT like him? That might be why. Mmmm, yeah, sounds like a good reason."

"Yeah, that's what I mean." I sat down on a bar stool and scratched my head. "C'mon, Bora, help me out. How does your skin get like that? I need, like… info."

Bora sighed. She turned and placed a small plate of fries in front of me, unasked. "We're just born like this, Dragomir. S'biology. Same way you white folks are born white. Dunno why we started out black, and I figure there's not much point askin' around. Just the way things are." 

I dug into the fries. Hadn't realized I was hungry. "Okay, but, well, how did Fynn wind up that colour? That's what I wanna know. 'cause Libby's not chocolate, and I'm not chocolate, so…"

Bora turned slightly, one eye peeking around her curled white hair. "Yep, s'quite a question you've got there. Might be one you should pose to your wife, not me. I can't give you the answer you're lookin' for."

I crunched another fry, frowning. "And what answer's that?"

She shrugged. "The one you wanna hear. Whatever that might be."

I paused, a fry dangling from my mouth, settled in one of the gaps in my teeth. "And… what answer could you give me?"

Bora's expression was sympathetic. "Not one you wanna hear, kiddo."


Dragomir the Daddy

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