Just call me Bláth

“Hm,” was his only response. What else was there to say? His own parents hadn’t acted like proper adults in nearly ten years and he had gotten used to the new dynamic. “That would be another issue. With what happened at your birth, and the general population, that mutations are a recessive gene. However, there are rare occasions where two mutant parents produce a human child.” He pushed the door to the basement open and began walking down the stairs. 

He barely acknowledged the people as they left, continuing farther on into the house. Keeping his work lower was better for everyone. “Are you even certain your father had the same ability? If mutations functioned like melanin levels in skin, the resulting child should possess a combination of the parent mutations. However, that doesn’t always occur.”

“I have a theory that the stories of magical beings across cultures are tied to the mutant population and that the changes in the genome occurred much earlier than most think.” As he stepped into the house, he could hear people coming and made no move to stop the flurry of hands that came to take his coat. “No, I found the mostly home like this and then made a few additions on it.” A woman walked over to Blaith and reached for her coat. “May I take that, my lady?”

“I may,” he replied, stepping up to the house. “I have been wondering if the boundary between life and death was mutated along with whatever genetic trait causes the super human abilities. Thoughts?”

“That’s weird,” Bunny mused. “People talk different all over the place. Why?” He didn’t understand why people didn’t just all speak the same language. It didn’t really matter which one, just that everyone pick the same thing. “What do you have?”

The boy nodded in understanding. “Do they listen to the list? I went to the hospital once and a man was saying that doctors don’t know anything and are just trying to make people more sick so they make more money.” He giggled.  “Mommy was very, very smart.” 

“He’s not nice that much,” Bunny shrugged, “most times he wants me to go away or go get things. Sometimes he gets mad and scary.”

“I suppose it’s all the different languages. A lot of people speak English, but many countries still have their own. It could be the differences in culture, too, but who knows, I suppose,” she replied with a shrug. “I think Pup would be angry with me if I taught you insults - how about I teach you some nice Irish phrases instead? You could impress all the girls at school.”

Bláth smiled down at him and his little mind. He was a wonderful lad to talk to. Most children were, in fact. She should have become a children’s nurse. “Some people do while others believe that we’re always wrong. It’s part of the job,” she shrugged.

“That’s not good. Does it happen often?”

“But I want summer now.” He whined, even though a smile was on his face. “It’s not even good cold. There’s no snow to play in.” Looking down at the picture, he grinned proudly. “Yes I did. Do you wanna colour too?” He asked, flipping through the pages to find a picture he thought she might like. Eventually he settled on a picture of Rarity, thinking the pretty lady would like the pretty pony. Carefully, he tore it out and set it on the counter beside him.

“Interrupting a girl’s cat nap?” Sofia questioned, her soft blue eyes looking up towards the person as she lifted her head from the floor. “How rude.” She smiled, but it wasn’t actually much of a smile in this form. Emotions were quite hard to convey sometimes when she wasn’t in her human form. “Unless you have come to join?”

In all her time, Bláithín had never seen a cat talk before. This was the first time the immortal was genuinely shocked. “I... You’re talking?” she asked, confusion written over her pale features. “You’re a cat?”

“Chicken means that someone’s scared of everything,” Bunny replied, speaking like a professor with the voice of a child, “I’m not scared of anything.” He tried to keep the word in his head so he could use it on kids who wouldn’t climb trees with him.

“They don’t? What do you do then? Mommy used to give me some ice cream when I was sick and she’d make her special soup. It was really warm and good.”

He nodded. “Sir was nice. That was weird and scary but mostly okay.” The boy had missed his parents more than ever and had gone outside to talk to them. He’d seen his mother do it, saying she was talking to grandma. Bunny had felt a bit better afterward.

“Maybe in America, but not in Ireland,” she smiled. The differences culture-wise was astounding to Bláth. She was glad she had moved over when there was less technology, honestly. “We use... different insults.”

“We just look after them until they’re better or, if they’d like to leave, we give them a list of things that will make them better. Rest is one very important thing, so is soup and ice cream. Your mommy was a smart person.”

“Weird and scary? How so?” she asked, concern written on her pale features. 

“What’s a si-cin?” the boy asked, tilting his head in confusion. “Is it like a ‘kid’?” While he knew a few words in another language, mostly cursing from hearing Sir burn himself on the stove, whatever Blaith had siad was lost on him. “That’s not good! Do you give them lots of medicine? That’s what they need. And soup. And ice cream. Lots of ice cream.”

He nodded in excitement. “Santa came and he gave me a new Batman action figure and a toy gun and some toy cars and a track for them! I set up the whole track by myself.”

“Oh, it means ‘chicken’. It’s like a pet name. “ Sometimes the towering blonde forgot that people didn’t understand her when she spoke Irish. That was perhaps one of the most depressing things about America. Aoife would be over soon, and she’d have someone to converse in Irish with once again.

“It depends on what they have. Most flu’s don’t need special medicine, but soup and ice cream are great alternatives,” she replied with a smile. His enthusiasm was warming her heart, truly. 

“Oh wow! Santy was good to you then, wasn’t he? Did you have a nice day with your family?”

Will sat by himself at the tall counter of the coffee shop. It was quiet and always smelled nice in the coffee shop, which is why he came here so often. His feet dangled above the floor in the tall chair he sat in. Crayons were spread around him as he focused on colouring various pictures of My Little Pony characters. A hot chocolate sat beside him, still steaming and brimming with marshmallows. “Sallon-hyung is in a really bad mood. That’s why I’m here. And it’s too cold to play in the park.” He replied, not bothering to look up from his colouring page.

“It definitely is too cold to play in the park,” she agreed. “Maybe if we talk to a weather manipulator they can make it sunny again. Although, maybe mother nature will give us a good summer after all this coldness. Fingers crossed,” she laughed. She pulled her Orla Kiely purse and pulled out the money she needed. Dollars were so bland compared to the Euro, or even the good old Punt. 

Whatever was making the town so silent, Bunny had no idea. He enjoyed seeing people smile and so few people were doing that lately. The small boy wandered through the streets, happy that Sir let him go out on his own so much. Mommy and Daddy hadn’t let him be alone when there were lots of strangers around. He still missed them though.

Passing the coffee shop, he peered inside as the person behind the counter set out a fresh batch of scones. The blueberry ones looked really good and he had some money saved up he could use. Pushing the door open, he stepped into line and waited his turn.

Hearing the lady behind him speak up, he turned around. “I think it’s cause people want to be somewhere warm and not go outside,” he replied, gesturing to his warm winter coat. “I can go outside since I have my coat on.”

Bláithín had to look for the little voice, but when she did, she gave him a warm smile. “It’s good that you have your coat on, sicín. It’s still very cold outside, isn’t it? Lots of people are arriving to the hospital with the flu because they didn’t wear their jackets! At least you won’t be like that.”

Bláth always loved to see Bunny. She usually met him in his older self, so seeing the body that matched the personality today was interesting. “How are you, Bunny? How was Christmas? Did Santy visit?”