Invitation on the Message Board

[ikissdhimbck]

Sometime after the bar returns to normal — or what passes for normal in Milliways — a note appears on the message board. It's written in a fine, looping pen, on paper embossed with pressed flowers.


Angus Urquhart
of Monadhliath

A wake will be held to honor the passing
of the man most knew as Urquhart
Wednesday, at two o'clock
November the Thirteenth
to continue until dark.

All are invited to attend,
and may bring a bottle of aged whiskey to send off their friend (or foe).
(Should any wish to help with arrangements, inquiries may be left below.)
The wake will be held by the lakeside.
 

Comments

If you're okay with an instaslow...

[lifethatisscratched]

Ratonhnhaké:ton doesn't know enough English to comprehend what the sign means.

But he's on a stool just below it, trying to copy it word for word on a piece of parchment.

[ikissdhimbck]

Ah, if it isn't her young student, industriously working with the supplies she gave him. Kate would be proud, were the subject of his scribbling not such a somber piece.

(She's still proud.)

"Whatcha doin', Ratonhnhaké:ton? Don't tell me you've already outgrown your lessons an' are employed as a scribe."

[lifethatisscratched]

"I'm trying to do what you did," he says, pointing to her notice.


"But I don't think I'm very good at it."

Frustrated, he lets his writing instrument clatter to the floor and holds the parchment up for Kate to see. He's about halfway done, and has clearly tried to emulate her handwriting for the first few words - and the transition to his jumbled, scribbled guesswork on the rest of the English alphabet clutters up most of the rest of the page.

[ikissdhimbck]

Kate takes the parchment and looks it over with enthusiasm. Her expression radiates nothing short of awe and pride. She's deeply impressed.

"Why, this is wonderful, sweetheart. You've done a marvelous job."

She rests her hand on his shoulder and smiles at him. No sympathy, no walls, no pretend congratulations; honest-to-goodness happiness is all.

"Don't worry, you'll improve. This is what we call cursive writin'. Y'learn it after you've mastered your letters an' your vocabulary list. So this is very good for a first try."

[lifethatisscratched]

Ratonhnhaké:ton looks up at her. "Really?"


Then, as he fidgets:

"...but all I did was copy you..."

[ikissdhimbck]

"Well, it takes years t'learn how t'write like this."

She holds the parchment back out for him, as if by looking at it a second time he'll see something new.

"An' here you've only been practicin' a few short months. I'll show y'how t'write on your own, but y'see how you copied that 'U', an' the 'W'? That's fine work."

[lifethatisscratched]

Awww, now he's straight flushed.

His timid side comes out as he slowly draws his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around his shins, looking up at Kate with those big brown eyes over the tops of his knees.

[ikissdhimbck]

Her lips quirk, giving him the kind of bright-eyed, lopsided smile that screams of unbridled affection and amusement.

She won't press, she'll simply say in a hushed voice like she's sharing a secret:

"I think you've earned yourself a slice of pie."

[lifethatisscratched]

Ratonhnhaké:ton's only response is to hug his shins tighter and mumble something into his knees.


Pray tell, is that a blush creepin' up on his cheeks?

(It is.)

[ikissdhimbck]

Aw, bless.

"Now, no need t'be shy."

But she doesn't press in on him, doesn't prod him into moving, doesn't move herself. She lets him make his own decisions.

"What is it, sweetheart?"