Bruno Madrigal

His nose wrinkled a little with a smile as she tousled his hair, and he bit back a laugh. Some people might have complained about being treated like a child, but honestly, after ten years of being so alone, he was revelling in the little bouts of attention, the fussing. Maybe after a while, he’d get annoyed by it, but for now it was nice to know that they cared and they loved him.

“I don’t think Camilo will do it again anyway…not now he knows different,” Bruno said softly, and he reached for her hands again, giving them a gentle squeeze to try and reassure her. He was fine, he was used to people giving him funny looks, calling him names behind his back, and sometimes in front of it if they knew his sisters weren’t listening.

She sighed, trying to calm herself away from another storm. Not right after he’d gotten cleaned up… Pepa herself was so used to getting wet, she barely cared, plus her dress did dry faster than his heavy woolen ruana anyway, but he didn’t deserve to be soaked a second time.

“If he does, I’m…” She paused. What exactly would she do? Force him to stay inside? Make him do chores? Well - the chores he refused to do usually, anyway? Pepa had not thought about it.

“I’m healthy!” he protested a little, but he let her pull him a little more upright anyway. Ok, so maybe healthy was a little bit of a push, given his somewhat restricted diet within the walls and, y’know, not really seeing daylight for ten years, but as far as fitness went, he thought he was actually doing pretty well. Spending ten years running through the space and jumping over that hole had done him good in his opinion.

“Nothing to really apologise for,” he shrugged, blinking up at his sister. The kid was dramatic, Bruno could appreciate that, and he’d latched onto a story and a memory and played it up. He’d only been five when Bruno had left, he could understand how Camilo had probably used it to help make sense of things, “Nothing people weren’t already saying anyway…”

“Still. He can’t just make everyone think you are some hideous freak when you are actually just a little Brunito.” She ran her hand through his hair a bit, tousling it. “I’ll have to tell him to stop. Or uh, apologize.” Stopping would be a bit too late at this point.

“I uh… so like about a year after…a year after I went, I kinda snuck down to the kitchen one night to get some things? And I was standing on one of the chairs to reach the top shelf of the cupboard and I kinda…had one of the involuntary visions? And Camilo may or may not have come into the kitchen and I guess he thought I was a monster and I tried to call to him but he fainted?”

Bruno winced a little as he remembered it. He hadn’t meant to scare his sobrino, had thought everyone was fast asleep and had been caught unawares. He’d gathered Camilo up that night and put him back to bed as quietly as he could.

“My back is fine!”

“It won’t be if oyu keep slouching.” she sternly said, trying to pull him up so he sat a bit more like a normal person. “Please? I know Julieta can probably fix this as well, but…”

Ah, that would make sense, then. She’d always chalked it up to  his overactive imagination and a need to show off (and perhaps scare his cousin, who knew) and didn’t exactly dig into the matter much more. After all, they kind of had promised they’d not talk about Bruno… until they did, of course.

Very loudly.

He’d always been shy, quiet, more prone to hiding behind mama’s skirts or his sisters even as a child. It hadn’t been helped much when the townsfolk had started to become wary of his gift, wondering if he was bringing them bad luck, and in turn he had pulled back into himself further. People were noisy and brash and he didn’t know how to talk with them, had never been calmly social like Julieta or able to just take charge like Pepa.

The feeling of her thumb carefully stroking his hand was soothing, and his shoulders unhunched a little bit at the familiar gesture, letting it ground him and ease some of the anxiety away.

“C-Can we? It’s just…it’s a lot…”

Pepa’s heart ached for her brother, for the years he had spent alone (and the lifetime before that he had spent feeling alone), and she wanted nothing but to be able to help him. She took a few slow breaths to keep her drizzle manageable, and tugged lightly on his hand.

“We can go to my room?” It was a careful suggestion, but she ultimately understood that he probably still felt alien, back at home. “Nobody comes in without asking, except the niños.”

“If not, I can think of something else. Whatever makes you comfortable, Brunito.”

The word was half whispered even as he gripped her hand a little tighter, letting her tug him along.  His head dropped a little, he didn’t want to ruin the party for everyone, not when everyone was enjoying themselves so much and everyone seemed so happy but it was still all so overwhelming. At least if he was with Pepa, perhaps Mama wouldn’t fret so much if she realised he wasn’t hanging about.

Pepa’s room was nice too, from what he could remember. Granted, with Casita back, his room had changed. There were still some stairs, but nowhere near the mountain that it had been, and it was a lot more comfortable and less vision centred, but still. 

“I like green,” he shrugged with a small smile. Mama had always seemed to like him in green too, although sometimes she’d gotten a sad look in her eye when she’d looked at him, and as a child he’d never quite been able to decipher what it meant. As he’d grown older, often looking at the portrait on the wall of their papa, he had begun to figure it out. It wasn’t difficult to see the resemblance there in looks. Not identical, no, but close enough that it had probably been hard for her.

“And I’ve always been smaller than you, so if I were seven feet then you must be at least eight,” he teased gently before thinking about it, a memory sparking and he pulled a face, “Although…actually…there was that one time…yeah…that might be why…”

“I don’t want to be eight feet tall,” she replied, looking at the ceiling. Being this tall sounded like it’d get in the way of literally everything, and besides, she was fine being her current height anyway. “But… what do you mean? Why would he think you’re seven feet?”

This just sounded absolutely ridiculous. Bruno was smaller than her, anyone with two eyes in their head could see that. And on top of that, he kept crouching and slouching and absolutely ruining his back.

Bruno winced a little as he remembered it. He hadn’t meant to scare his sobrino, had thought everyone was fast asleep and had been caught unawares. He’d gathered Camilo up that night and put him back to bed as quietly as he could.

“Yellow was always your colour,” he laughed softly, his eyes crinkling. Admittedly he did find it a little funny how the family had managed to practically colour code itself. It was kind of sweet in a way, if a little odd. It would probably seem odder to see them without it now, he’d gotten so used to it.

Still smiling, he let his hands slip from her wrists to take her hands, giving them a light squeeze, “Ay, I hope Camilo doesn’t cause a fuss about it. You know, in case my ‘seven foot frame’ is stretching out his clothes or anything,” he joked lightly.

“Uh…yeah,” he nodded when she asked about the ruana, scratching the back of his neck absently. When she offered to make him a new one, his eyes widened and he looked up at her, chewing on his lower lip, “Could it be…could it be bigger? Than this one?”

“Well, that’s…” Would it be stereotypical to agree? She’d always liked it the most out of every other colour, and then it just kind of stuck to her and her side of the family, too. “That’s true, yes but it could be worse.” She gave his ruana a little tug, looking him over. “You don’t look awful in yellow, I mean.”

Bruno blinked slowly as the cloud disappeared, a bright rainbow appearing instead, although he smiled a little too. He liked seeing Pepa with rainbows, liked knowing she was happy. It seemed like rainbows had been far too seldom before, but maybe they could work on that more, on her being able to feel happier and all that.

“I uh…don’t think I’m a yellow person,” he said with a tiny smile, plucking at the collar of the ruana a little. Green had always been his colour, a balance between Pepa’s yellow and Julieta’s blue.  Still, it would do for now, and hopefully he could get his own ruana back fairly quickly.

Next thing he knew, Pepa was all over him, and his eyebrows raised slightly as she fussed over him. It almost made him feel like a small child again, mama making sure he was ‘properly dressed’ and tutting gently about his hair being a mess, as if his hair wasn’t always a mess. 

“Ay, Pepa, I’m not Antonio,” he laughed softly as she tried to fix his hair, reaching up to catch her hands and grin at her.

“You could be,” she replied, looking at him as he caught her by the wrists. He was, after all, her baby brother, and she felt responsible for him. And anyway, that rat’s nest of a haircut needed to go, as far as she was concerned.

“Look, you’re even wearing Camilo’s clothes,” she went on, but didn’t try to pull her hands away from him. It felt good to be joking around, free of the pressures of being a Madrigal. Unless she counted her own want for being a role model to her children and the townspeople who still relied on the family.

Still smiling, he let his hands slip from her wrists to take her hands, giving them a light squeeze, “Ay, I hope Camilo doesn’t cause a fuss about it. You know, in case my ‘seven foot frame’ is stretching out his clothes or anything,” he joked lightly.

Bruno looked up when she spoke, his face softening and a slightly sheepish look crossing his face at her words. Of course he was trusting her with this, his sisters were the two closest people in his life, always had been. Even if they’d fought and bickered, they’d always come back to each other in the end and he’d missed them so much when he’d secluded himself.

Once or twice when he’d snuck out during the night to get food, he’d found himself pausing at their doors, letting his fingers trace the glowing wood, wondering what might happen if he decided to knock, to see them. But he’d never done it, retreating back into his hole.

Taking the clothes, he shot her a grateful smile. Yellow wasn’t exactly his colour but he couldn’t really be too picky right now. Slipping the new shirt on, he rolled his shoulders as he buttoned it up. A little loose, but not too bad, although it still gaped a little. The ruana was…well, it fit, but for someone used to wearing one considerably more oversized, it felt a little odd, and he found himself hunching into a little so it might cover more of him.

“I’m done,” he said softly.

Pepa spun on her heel as soon as she announced he was done, a bright smile on her face. The cloud poofed out of existence, replaced by a bright rainbow spanning over her head.

“You look very good, Brunito,” she said, leaning in a bit to get a better look. Yellow was not his colour, but wearing a properly-sized ruana and some brighter colours did wonders for his overall look - in her opinion, anyway. Maybe he should wear something like this more often - something that wasn#t a ratty, gross old ruana.

Pepa grabbed the soaked clothes he’d put aside, tossing them in the general direction of the laundry basket. Casita flicked its tiles, moving the basket when the laundry came flying.

“I uh...don’t think I’m a yellow person,” he said with a tiny smile, plucking at the collar of the ruana a little. Green had always been his colour, a balance between Pepa’s yellow and Julieta’s blue.  Still, it would do for now, and hopefully he could get his own ruana back fairly quickly.

Next thing he knew, Pepa was all over him, and his eyebrows raised slightly as she fussed over him. It almost made him feel like a small child again, mama making sure he was ‘properly dressed’ and tutting gently about his hair being a mess, as if his hair wasn’t always a mess. 

Bruno let her direct him towards the armchair, perching on the edge of the soft cushion. After a moment, he set his ruana down, feeling more comfortable now that he knew he was in the privacy of his sister’s room, where the only person looking at him would be his sister, at least for now.

He took the towel from her, tracing a finger over the patterns for a moment before beginning to slowly squeeze some of the rain water out of his curls and wipe it from his face. Idly he picked at the soaked shirt, wrinkling his nose as it stuck a little to his skin.

“Uh…maybe?” he shrugged. His nephew was almost the same height as him, and their builds weren’t too dissimilar. It wouldn’t be ideal, but it would be better than continuing to wear the wet one, and his fingers moved to undo some of the buttons, fiddling with the loose threads as he went.

Pepa made a small ‘hmmhmhm’ noise, rifling through her drawers. She always kept some of her children’s things in here, just in case they needed something, She was a mother after all, and that came with always having whatever they might need on hand.

“I’m very glad you are trusting me with this,” she said, more to herself than Bruno. After so long spent apart, it was a blessing to see her brother still trusting her at all. “I want to make up for the time we lost.”

Even if that seemed impossible. Ten years was a long time, and on top of that, she’d wasted so much time chasing her mothers’ approval even before that, leaving her brother behind. Pepa briefly glanced up, making a small shooing gesture towards the cloud that was already trying to settle back in. She wouldn’t cry any more, she told herself. Bruno and herself were soaked as it were, and crying was not going to help either of them.

“Alright, I’ll give you the clothes” She pulled out a ruana and a shirt, smoothing out the fabric. “And I’ll turn around so you can change.” Not that she absolutely had to - he was still her brother, and making this more awkward than it had to be felt… weird, to say the least.

Once or twice when he’d snuck out during the night to get food, he’d found himself pausing at their doors, letting his fingers trace the glowing wood, wondering what might happen if he decided to knock, to see them. But he’d never done it, retreating back into his hole.

Taking the clothes, he shot her a grateful smile. Yellow wasn’t exactly his colour but he couldn’t really be too picky right now. Slipping the new shirt on, he rolled his shoulders as he buttoned it up. A little loose, but not too bad, although it still gaped a little. The ruana was...well, it fit, but for someone used to wearing one considerably more oversized, it felt a little odd, and he found himself hunching into a little so it might cover more of him.

“It’ll dry,” he shrugged a little, although he did glance around a little, almost as if to check if anybody was looking at him. Thankfully no one was, so he seemed to relax a little, and he let her begin to lead him back through the halls and towards her room where he could dry off a little.

He hadn’t been inside Pepa’s room in years. Obviously ten of those he’d been in the walls, but even in the few years before his self-imposed exile, he hadn’t been near it. When they’d been children they’d constantly been in and out of each other’s rooms, but as they’d gotten older, and particularly when his sisters had gotten married, that had slowed down quite a bit.

“A bit damp?” he tried to joke, cracking a small smile, and he gave her hand another squeeze to reassure her.

“A .. a little bit.” She gently moved him towards the armchair in the corner, pushing him down to sit. “There, you stay. I’ll get a towel.”

And she scuttled off to go do just that, returning with a small guest towel. It was orange, embroidered with small suns and rain clouds. She handed it to Bruno, immediately hurrying back off to go find one of Camilo’s spare ruanas to dress him in.

He took the towel from her, tracing a finger over the patterns for a moment before beginning to slowly squeeze some of the rain water out of his curls and wipe it from his face. Idly he picked at the soaked shirt, wrinkling his nose as it stuck a little to his skin.

@skiesclouded​ from here

Casita was rebuilt. The miracle was back. Naturally, everyone was celebrating, the entire town flowing through the house, and it was more people all at once than Bruno had seen in years. It was…overwhelming to say the least. Even during the rebuild, everyone had been scattered about and doing different things and it hadn’t seemed so bad. But now it was setting him on edge. It didn’t help either that he could feel people stopping to glance at him. Older people who he’d definitely given visions to years ago (Oh god, was that the fish lady?) and small children looking up at him with wide eyes.

Thankfully he’d found Pepa amongst the throng and slipped his hand into hers, clutching on like a security blanket, mumbling softly, “Lots of people…”

Pepa should have known— even if her and her brother had similarities, she could handle a crowd better than he could, was able to put on her big girl bloomers and charge out into seas of people, use the threat of her powers to give orders (though recently, that hadn’t worked very well). Bruno was shy before spending a decade in the walls, so this couldn’t have been easy for him.

“Oh,” her voice was soft, and she gave his hand another squeeze despite herself, stroking his skin carefully with her thumb. She could feel a drizzle coming on, but she took a deep breath and let it go— that’s what he’d wanted from her, right? To embrace her emotions?

The feeling of her thumb carefully stroking his hand was soothing, and his shoulders unhunched a little bit at the familiar gesture, letting it ground him and ease some of the anxiety away.

“I wasn’t going to go!” he blurted out with wide eyes, twisting the fabric in his hands, “I just…I was curious, I just wanted to see…not to stay just…sometimes it helps to…to get away…”

He went quiet, ducking his head slightly. He’d known about the space in the walls long before he’d disappeared into it, had sometimes used it when he’d needed some space or when things had gotten too crowded and noisy. There had been the benefit too that it was too small to use his gift, so he could almost get away from it there.

“O-okay,” he said softly, reaching for her hand again and giving it a small squeeze in hopes of reassurance.

She squeezed his hand back, a faint smile on her face. She was genuinely happy to see him back in the house, and hearing that he had even thought about looking at going back into the walls was … not reassuring to say the very least.

“I’m still sorry about the. Your ruana, I mean.” Hopefully it’d dry off sooner rather than later; Bruno seemed uncomfortable at the mere thought of going without it. Not to mention at this point he’d catch a cold standing around all sopping wet like that. He already looked like a drowned rat even when he wasn’t wet from head to toe.

He hadn’t been inside Pepa’s room in years. Obviously ten of those he’d been in the walls, but even in the few years before his self-imposed exile, he hadn’t been near it. When they’d been children they’d constantly been in and out of each other’s rooms, but as they’d gotten older, and particularly when his sisters had gotten married, that had slowed down quite a bit.

Bruno had always hated the thought of Pepa having to hold all her emotions in just to cater to what everyone else wanted the weather to be. He was hardly the expert in emotional matters, but he was pretty sure bottling it up wasn’t good for anyone, and it just tended to make things worse in the end. But forty five years of practice repressing your emotions was hard to get away from.

Awkwardly, he held the soaked ruana close to his chest. Out from under the material, it was clearer to see now just how skinny he’d gotten, the shirt underneath gaping a little despite being buttoned up. 

“I…uh…I actually can’t go back anyway…it doesn’t exist anymore…it’s just wall…” he tried to reassure her, although his mind did consider that she maybe wouldn’t find the fact that he knew that very comforting. It had just been a curiosity! He’d wanted to see if it still existed, but the painting didn’t budge off the wall, and any hidey hole he’d known about had been sealed up.

She still did that, of course - she knew better now, but so many years of repressing herself and her emotions meant a habit that was hard to shake. If she ever would. Pepa sighed, trying to keep from commenting on how emaciated Bruno looked. He probably knew that himself, anyway, so it’d just be rude to talk about it.

“…why do you know.” She perked up a bit. Had he tried climbing back inside? Was he planning on leaving again? Should she panic?

He went quiet, ducking his head slightly. He’d known about the space in the walls long before he’d disappeared into it, had sometimes used it when he’d needed some space or when things had gotten too crowded and noisy. There had been the benefit too that it was too small to use his gift, so he could almost get away from it there.

“All the stairs are a pretty good motivator to go back to sleep.”

“It also takes a lot of energy to be seven feet.”

The rain didn’t bother him, even as it briefly intensified, flattening his soaked curls to his head. He loved his sister, he really did. So maybe they didn’t always get along, but that was just the way siblings were. His ten years in the walls would never change how much he cared for his family, and he wanted them to be happy. It was part of why he had left after all.

Shrugging his shoulders, albeit a little more difficult due to the weight of the soaked garment. It wasn’t her fault. Instead he let his thumb rub the back of her hand, doing his best to reassure her, “You didn’t ruin anything Pepa. It’s just a little water.”

He supposed his nephew’s might fit. Although the problem there being that it would fit. His own ruana was oversized, and he did like it that way, liked being able to tuck himself inside it. Still, he supposed he didn’t have much choice, and reluctant as he was, he slowly ducked out of the ruana, clutching the wet fabric in his hands.

She let out a loud, undignified sob. If he felt like he had ruined the family with his visions, then she definitely felt the same way about her weather. Being forced to wear her emotions over her head like that had never been easy, and it only got worse when she cried. Then she got wet, and clammy, and cold, and that made her even more upset - a vicious cycle that’d repeat into infinity.

Bruno had encouraged her to let her emotions go, after all. It did feel better to let herself feel what she needed to in the moment, but heavy rain and thunder were still an inconvenience to say the least.

“Gracias,” she mumbled, trying to pull herself together, if not for herself then for her brother. He didn’t deserve to get drenched as much as he did around her, even if he insisted it was fine.

“You don’t have to be out in the house, either,” she went on, following her train of thought. “You can come stay in my room.” She knew his had been restored after the collapse, but it had never looked comfortable to her. The least she could offer would be somewhere to stay out of sight until he had his ruana back.

Awkwardly, he held the soaked ruana close to his chest. Out from under the material, it was clearer to see now just how skinny he’d gotten, the shirt underneath gaping a little despite being buttoned up.