Norrayemma

Gildayshe

Big Sibling Trio/Anna/Don/Gilda/Nat → Younger Grace Field Orphans

Big Sibling Lambda Gang → Norman

Isabella’s fraught and complicated relationship with Ray but really her relationship with any of her children

Norman Ratri fuckery

Ayshe considered herself a patient person.

She knew just how long to wait in hiding before hunting, she didn’t mind watching 25 kids for hours at a time, even when they insisted on braiding her hair (“Anna taught me! Isn’t it pretty Ayshe?” sure.), she lived in the same house as the man who killed her father for years now and still hadn’t lifted a finger to hurt him (setting her dogs to take his dinner didn’t count, and besides, it made Gilda laugh), but really this was too much.

“What.”

“Isn’t Mars sweet, Ayshe?” cooed Sherry, gesturing to the hairy beast in Gilda’s arms.

“You named that thing?”

“You name your dogs,” pointed out Don.

She shook her head. Her dogs were useful: they could hunt, scare Norman, keep guard, scare Norman, drag heavyweight, kill (not Norman, not yet). But a cat?

“He won’t get in your way, I promise,” said Gilda, smiling sweetly, and Ayshe couldn’t say much else to that.

***

Gilda stayed true to her word. Every morning, without fail, she brushed that thing’s matted hair, gave it a bow for some reason, fed it something out of a can instead of letting it hunt, cut its nails, and of course, kept it out of Ayshe’s way.

At the end of every week, when the children went on one of their long trips and returned, predictably, empty-handed, Ayshe watched with bemusement as Gilda held that thing close to her for hours at a time.

“Mars doesn’t have to be useful, you know,” said Ray, who had been watching her eyebrows raise higher and higher after one of those trips.

“It doesn’t do anything.”

“It doesn’t have to. Gilda likes it because it shuts up and follows her around when she’s upset.”

“She has 43 siblings.”

“Yeah, but those don’t ever shut up,” said Ray fondly.

“I have 3 dogs. She didn’t need to get a cat to keep her company.”

“Sounds like you’re jealous.”

Sounds like you need to keep your mouth shut.

Lifting herself off the dogs curled around her, Ayshe manoeuvred herself around the crowded household into Gilda’s room.

As always, she was hunched at a corner of her bed, her arms wrapped around the thing - Mars.

“Oh-hello Ayshe!” she said, startled but not unwelcome.

“Hello.”

Gilda likes it because it shuts up when she’s upset.

Tucking her knees underneath her, Ayshe stared silently at Gilda. 

“Did you…want something from me?”

She shook her head. It works for the beast but not her?

And suddenly, Gilda burst into tears. What the hell, Mars?

“I’m sorry - it’s just Anna wants to go to medical school and money’s still thin and I know Norman and Ray are working but I want to help out but the only thing I can do is help with searching but we haven’t found a single lead and Alicia, Phil and Yvette are upset and Don’s upset so I can’t be upset in front of them, and it’s Violet’s birthday next week and I haven’t planned anything and Eugene’s allergic to mangoes now,” she sobbed.

“…Staying away from mango peel helps with allergies,” was about the most useful thing Ayshe could come up with.

Gilda stared at her. And without warning, laughed. Had she said something funny?

“You’re right, Ayshe. There’s so much less to worry about in this world and I’m worried about…allergies?” she chuckled, wiping at her eyes.

Ayshe didn’t think she had said anything even remotely related to worrying.

“Would you like to hold Mars?”

No.

“Okay,” said Ayshe, holding out her arms.

It - Mars - began to purr, nuzzling it’s fat, orange head against her shoulder.

“I can…fish for Mars. You’d save money on his food that way,” she offered.

Gilda blinked at her, surprise evident on her face.

“And my dogs don’t forget a single scent. They might help with your search. I don’t know anything about birthdays but - “

Gilda cut her off, wrapping her arms around her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she said, lacing her fingers through Ayshe’s hand.

Ayshe wondered if her chest had stopped working, whether it was normal for her heart to squeeze in on itself this way. She didn’t trust herself to speak, her ears flushing red for some strange reason.

A loud hiss from Mars, from being pressed in on from both sides, broke them apart (what the hell, Mars?) the cat darting out of Ayshe’s arms, out into the hallway.

“Mars!” yelled Gilda, chasing after him, Ayshe on her heels.

They had lost track of him, amidst the clutter of the children-filled household.

A loud meow, a series of loud sneezes, and an even louder laugh from Ray pulled them both into the kitchen.

“Oh hello, Gilda! Ayshe - ” began Norman warily. And then, sneezed.

“Sorry - ach-choo! - I think I’m - ACH-CHOO!” Curled around Norman’s legs, quite unbothered by the sneezing was a very relaxed Mars.

“You’re - ” gasped Ray, clutching at his sides, “you’re allergic to cats?!” his words punctuated with laughter.

Norman didn’t seem to find the situation quite as entertaining. Sniffling, he beckoned for Gilda to take the cat away.

Chuckling herself, Gilda scooped Mars up into her arms again.

“Sorry, Norman! It won’t happen again!” It absolutely will.

Together, Gilda and Ayshe walked out of the kitchen, Ray still laughing, Norman still sneezing.

Ayshe smirked, running her hand along Mars’ back.