บท 4: Carman, Please Stop Trying to Hook me Up
Yetta watched as the last of the festival decorations were carted out. Jason gave up his little witch's hat, swapping it for the new shell Yetta had gotten him. Eva promised to be back, telling Yetta to just take it slow for the time being. Carman, on the other hand. She knew what she was doing.
She had increased the number of sparring matches between Yetta and Crow, first off. Yetta hadn't even had to say who she was interested in before Carman guessed. Correctly guessed, at that. If that wasn't the worst, Yetta was now invited to any hangouts between Carman and Crow. There were some days she cursed the warlock, because how was she supposed to not stare? Especially when he wore civilian clothes, which showed off more of his muscles than the armor did.
Yetta moved out of the way for a worker carrying a pile of candles, still lost in her thoughts as she waited for the line to go down she she could check her goddamn mail. "איטי פוקס," she grumbled to herself. To Jason, she said her next bit. "למה אנחנו מחכים פה בכלל? אני חצי מתפתה ללכת הביתה ולחכות."
Jason gave his best attempt at a shrug, moving the shell flaps instead of shoulders. She knew he understood her. That was part of their bond, is he understood whatever came out of her mouth, half the time. When she was drunk…now that was a different story.
However, she was not drunk, and she was now wishing she was, because Crow was right behind her, trying to get his mail too. "What language was that? I don't think I've ever heard it before." Yetta jumped, looking over her shoulder. She was glad she had chosen to wear her helmet this time. Her face burned.
Clearing her throat, she answered. "Hebrew. Really the only hint I have about my past life. Pretty fluent in it." She tried to sound nonchalant, and cool. The subtle raise in pitch kind of defeated that.
"You'll have to teach me it someday."
Yetta laughed. "It's not an easy language to learn, really."
Shrugging, Crow replied with, "I like a challenge." He held his fist out for her to bump, and she knocked her knuckles against his.
. . .
She sat in Crow's living room, a steaming cup of cocoa in her hands, and she sipped carefully. She watched him move around the kitchen, pouring his own cup. Yetta then took a look around, various trinkets and projects hanging from the walls. Her eyes flickered from project to project, before settling on a little mechanical fox, whose beady eyes stared at her back. "Just little side projects I work on," Crow announced, putting the fox into a box. "I give them to the hatchlings as toys."
"They must be lucky." She sipped her cocoa again. "Is everything here a toy?"
"Toys, or repaired equipment." Shrugging, he went back to packaging them up. "You should come with me."
"To where?"
"To see the hatchlings. I don't believe anybody's taken you over there yet." He smiled coyly at her. "I think you'll enjoy the visit."
. . .
As matter of a fact, Yetta loved going there. The older hatchlings, Eliksni, clambered over her, chirping and cooing as they played with her fiery hair. Crow held the younger hatchlings, still swaddled, and only able to produce small chirps as he fed them some ether. Yetta found herself wrapped up in a game of tag, tagging one Eliksni youngling, and darting away, slowing herself down so they'd get her. And that tag turned into hide and seek, which turned back into freeze tag. Crow watched all of it, watched as Yetta threw herself on the ground and let the youth climb on top of her, burying her.
The mother of the hatchling he held, Deskes, sat beside him, clicking softly as she reached out for her child. Crow handed the hatchling back to her, and kept watching. "The children love her," she chuckled. "You may have competition for their favorite guardian."
"Already? I don't think she can beat my stories."
"Ah, you could be a team," Deskes offered. "You tell stories, she plays and tires them out enough to sit still. It may not have to be a competition."
Crow chuckled, watching the younger hunter play wrestle with the younglings. She was letting them win, he realized, with a soft pang of fondness. She was letting them beat her. They both knew she could win the wrestling matches in a heartbeat, but here she was. Letting them pin her down and sit on her and crying in mock distress. "I've seen the way she looks at you," Deskes continued.
Crow looked over. "How so?"
"Like you're everything to her, but she's too afraid." Then, she quickly added, "that's not to say you should confront her now. She's scared of her own feelings. They confuse her. Let her open up in her own time. You look at her that way too, even if you don't realize it."
"I'm not-"
"Yes you are. Starry eyes and all."
. . .
Yetta stepped into Ms. Noble's apartment, eying the stove that was now working. The new landlord had taken care of Louella first, deeming her in more need of comfort than the macho men next door, who swore they could live without AC for a while and were now eating those words. Yetta had to laugh whenever she saw the wide open doors and windows, but now that winter was approaching, the doors and windows were constantly shut. Tightly, at that. "Hello?" she called out. "Ms. Noble?" she set her tray of cookies on the old wooden table.
"A relic from the dark ages," Louella swore. "Daddy carved it by hand."
Yetta went towards the living room, trying to look around the screen dividing it from the dining room. "In here, dear!" Louella called. "Come and sit with us for a while, won't you?" Yetta pushed the screen aside, raising her eyebrows at the sight of Carman in her neighbor's apartment, unarmored and helmet-less.
"You have company," she observed. Carman waved her in.
"Don't just stand there, child. Come in." Carman scooted over on the couch, Louella peering behind the curtain.
"Did you bring oatmeal raisin?" the elder asked excitedly. Moving the footrest of her recliner down, she hobbled to the kitchen, grabbing the tray. "You did! Oh, you know me too well!"
Yetta sat beside Carman, placing her hands in her lap. The warlock stared. "You never sit that nice at my place," she observed.
"Ms. Noble is very…particular about manners."
"I can tell. She yelled at me to take my armor off before I came in." Yetta snorted in disbelief. So Carman did listen to orders. Good to know.
"Next time I need to boss you around, I'll just have Louella do it." Carman gave her a side eye, and Yetta quieted down.
"We wanted to talk to you about something." Carman reached for her tea, the raspberry blend Louella made for her.
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The_Crow_Bard
The_Crow_Bard It's at this point I stop using Google Translate. It was being inconsistent with the translations and was a little daunting.
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