#mr-haitch

Fire.  Deep in the lungs.  Burning hotter and hotter.  The rest of the body numbed from the outside in.  A crushing pressure beating down, battering harder and harder.  Lights shining in the vision, flaring up like stars you aren’t focusing on.  Air.  There wasn’t any air.  Only cold, suffocating water, and a belt across a chest.  Struggling, as the world starts to fade, already blurry as it was.  Again, the burning, desperate need to fill the lungs, but it has to be ignored.  Only death would follow should one fulfil such an urge.  The mind may not have comprehended, but the body knew.  Fingers numb, useless, no way to escape.  Darkness creeps in, slowly overtaking everything as movement dies down.  Fade to black, just as a hand grabs a shoulder, and then nothing more.

  Light and the smell of bacon being cooked drifted into the darkness, dragging the boy back into consciousness.  He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, stirring slightly and letting out a groan.  Couldn’t they just let him sleep longer?  After such a nightmare…  And the covers felt so good this morning, so soft against his skin.  Meat sizzled on the pan, and a strange crackling noise told him such a thing would probably be impossible, but he turned over in order to cover his eyes more thoroughly.

God but his joints were stiff.  Even the act of rolling over had been enough to send pins and needles shooting through him, and now his fingers tingled as he twitched them experimentally.  A frown pulled at his brow.  He would have to get up soon.  His mother’s voice would break through the comfortable softness of his bed as she opened the door and called him to breakfast.  He’d complain, but he’d be grateful for the meal, he knew, as his stomach rumbled in protest to its empty state.

Something audibly clicked in an off tempo pattern, and he frowned deeper.  It was an odd sound to hear in his bedroom.  Certainly wasn’t anything tapping on his window, more like the sound of a dog chewing on a bone.  That, and the quiet crackling, and the strange softness of his covers, and where was his mother?  She should have…

The boy sat bolt upright, eyes wide, and regretted it almost immediately as his joints called out in pain.  He winced, but his eyes didn’t leave his surroundings, boggling as they took everything in.  A room greeted him, walls made of reddish wood that had been left rough, rather than sanded down and lacquered.  Paintings of landscapes and framed photographs depicting strange people and creatures the boy didn’t recognize had been hung on them at various points.  Furs and antlers had also been mounted, yet nothing in the way of animal heads or alternately stuffed depictions of said creatures.  A bookshelf and grandfather clock stood upright and proud near a number of armchairs that had been set up in a circle, each a pleasant, earthy color.  A raised fireplace crackled softly, more pictures on the mantle above it, and a large, fur rug of dark, shaggy hair had been laid out on the floor.  Light streamed in from the windows, illuminating the room and making the boy’s eyes water, and as he peered out of them he could make out the snow laden boughs of fir trees.  Near one window, a screen had been set up, partitioning off one part of the room, from behind which the soft clicking sound could still be heard, accompanied by a pleased grunting and heavy breathing.

“Oh, you’re awake.  Good, breakfast is almost ready,” an unfamiliar voice spoke, and the boy turned around to see an unfamiliar man standing in a small, but entirely functional kitchen alcove.  The man smiled, warmly, and the boy blinked, noticing his strange, creamy tan hair styled in an undercut, discolored eye, and metal shoulder pads.  A red, knit scarf was woven around his neck, and various piercings decorated his face.  Then, he noticed the ears.  They were large, and pointed, but not in the graceful way that was often seen on elves in fantasy movies.

The strange man noticed the odd look on the boy’s face, and his smile slowly faded.  “Ah, I suppose I have some explaining to do…  We should eat first, though.  You’ve been out for a few days, and your body needs nourishment,” he said, gesturing invitingly toward a table in the kitchen alcove.

The boy glanced down at the soft furs he had been resting in, still frowning.  Questions ran through his mind, each one calling for attention, but none standing out especially in comparison to the others.  For a moment he considered laying down again, closing his eyes, and simply pretending this was all a dream; that he would wake up to his mother knocking on the door and everything would be normal again.  The emptiness in his stomach, and a nagging thought in the back of his mind told him this probably wasn’t the case, though.

“Come on, then.  Y’don’t want the food to go cold,” the man said, accompanied with the sound of tableware clinking together.  The boy glanced up, mouth watering as the scent of food wafted over him, and untangled himself from the blankets.  He blinked, noticing he was wearing a soft nightgown made of some material he couldn’t identify.  The strange man coughed as the boy shot a questioning look at him, looking away.

“I didn’t dress you, no.  I called a friend over.  She only does dresses, though, sorry about that,” he said, his cheeks and the tips of his ears going red.

“It’s okay, I don’t really mind,” the boy said, plucking at the maroon material.  “It’s comfortable.”  He glanced up at the strange man, then looked away again almost immediately, grimacing in response to the huge grin that had spread across his host’s face.

“Sorry,” the man said, covering his mouth, though the smile was still stretching his face.  “Just that I finally got you to talk.”

The boy grimaced at the chest by the door in response and quickly shuffled over to the table to sit down.  A plate of pancakes, eggs and bacon was set in front of him, along with a glass of some sort of juice that smelled sweet and exotic that he couldn’t place.  Again, his stomach rumbled, and he reached for the fork, but a distressed noise stopped him.  The boy glanced up to find his host watching him, an apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry, just…  I know you’re hungry, but would you mind holding off for a moment longer?  I promise, it won’t take long,” the man said.  The boy grimaced, but nodded, setting the utensil down once more, to a relieved expression from the man.  A moment passed as the boy’s host bowed his head and clasped his hands together, mouthing a few words, before lifting his head again and nodding.  “Alright, dig in.  SLOWLY!” Almost immediately the boy had begun tearing at the food with ravenous ferocity, and it was only with the man’s warning that he didn’t begin choking.

“What was that?” he asked, having downed half the glass of juice to clear his esophagus again.  The man looked somewhat confused, until the boy brought his hands together and bowed his head for a moment.

“That?  Oh, nothing, just…  Sending thanks to the providers of the meal.  I consider it a show of respect, I suppose, though I know not many do that sorta thing anymore,” he said, looking distant for a moment, before focusing once more.  “My name’s Bram, by the way.”

“Just Bram?” the boy asked through a mouthful of bacon.

“Well…” Bram looked sheepish.  “I guess some call me Bram the Enkindler…  Or The Inspirer of Positivity.  But Bram works fine.”

The boy stopped chewing, staring at Bram with an odd look on his face.  “The heck kind of names are those?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Titles, I suppose,” Bram said, shrugging.  “They’re not uncommon where I come from.  What about you?”

“What about me?” the boy asked, fixing his eyes on his plate and turning over the eggs with his fork.

“What’s your name?”

The boy swallowed past the lump that had suddenly formed in the back of his throat.  “Jasper Sol,” he said, and there was a low growl somewhere behind him.

“Oh,” Bram said, and Jasper glanced up to find the man frowning at him.  “You don’t like it?”

“The food?  It’s fine, I just ate too fast like you said,” Jasper said, but Bram was already shaking his head.

“No, your name,” he said.  Jasper stared at him, at the open look in Bram’s eyes, and the concerned expression, true concern for some kid’s feelings that this guy had only just met.

“I…  No, not really.  I don’t really wanna talk about it…” He said, looking away.

“Then don’t talk about it.  But you don’t have to use that name either.  What would you rather be called?” Bram asked

“I kinda like Jazz,” the boy said.

“Well then, Jazz, it’s nice to meet you!” Bram said, sounding excited and holding out a hand.  Jazz stared at it, before reaching out and shaking it, a small smile touching the edges of his lips.

“Look, Bram, thanks for…  For breakfast and whatever else, but I really should be going,” Jazz said, standing.  “I think…  I mean, my parents…  And I’m not sure where I am, and…”

Another low growl echoed through the room, and Jazz glanced back at the screen from which the sounds of chewing had stopped.  He turned back to Bram to find the man looking down at the floor, a dark expression on his face.

“I…  Jazz, do you remember anything about how you got here?”  Bram asked, looking up at the boy, lips drawn, a deep frown furrowing his brows.

“I…  No…  But my parents are gonna be worried about me, and…  Do they know you?  I don’t know where I am, and I need to get home-“

“Jazz, you can’t…  You can’t do that.  I’m sorry…” Bram said, hunching over a little more.

“What do you mean?  What, are you kidnapping me?”

Bram winced and looked away.  “No, that’s not what I mean…”

“Then what?  Why won’t you let me see my parents?  Are you going to keep me locked up here?  You some sorta pedophile?” Again, the growl echoed, but Jazz ignored it.

“Jazz, I’m not going to force you to stay here,” Bram said, his tone level and calm, but his eyes betrayed the worry.  “I promise it’s nothing like that, but-“

“But what?  If you’re not kidnapping me, what is this?  Some sort of sick joke?  I wake up in some stranger’s house and they offer me pancakes and then everything’s supposed to just be all hunky-dory?  Where am I?  Where are my parents?  Why can’t I go see them?”

The growl was getting louder, and Bram looked between the boy and the screen, grimacing. “Jazz, please-“

“No!  Don’t ‘please’ me!  Do you think this is funny?  Where am I?  Why am I here?  Where are my parents?”

“You can’t-“

“STOP TELLING ME WHAT I CAN’T DO AND START TELLING ME WHAT’S GOING ON!  Why can’t you just tell me?  Why?  Why can’t you just say it?  WHY CAN’T YOU JUST SAY THAT MY PARENTS ARE DEAD?”

Sudden silence broke out in the Cabin as Jazz stood stock still, a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide and bulging.  Bram watched him, worry still etched in his face, glancing at the screen every few moments.  Finally, he let out a sigh, and opened his mouth to speak, only for his own eyes to widen as he looked like he’d been slapped across his face.

“My parents are dead…” Jazz mumbled, as Bram carefully got to his feet.  The boy’s hands slowly lifted to entwine in his hair, cradling his head.  “Dead…  They’re dead…  My parents are dead.  My parents are dead,” he repeated.  A low buzzing noise had begun somewhere between his eyes, and was growing by the second, drowning everything else out.  He could swear Bram was saying something to him, but no words were coming out.

“They’re dead.  They’re dead.  My parents are dead,” there he was, sitting in the back seat of the car again.  They’d been heading to a restaurant for dinner with a friend, and had gotten lost on the way.  “My parents are dead,” his mother and father had been arguing.  They weren’t paying attention to the road around them.  “They’re dead,” they’d been so focused on each other…  “My parents are dead,” When the light turned red neither of them had noticed.  “Dead,” and then the car hit them.  “My parents,” the car only stopped spinning when it hit the water, and then it had started seeping up around him as Jazz sat dazed and unable to think.  “Dead.  Dead they’re dead dead dead my parents are dead dead dead dead dead DEAD DEAD DEAD DEAD DEAD DEAD,” the buzzing was getting louder and louder and louder and it was drowning out everything else and Jazz couldn’t think anymore because his parents were dead and—

Something exploded from behind the screen, slamming into the opposite wall and half destroying the kitchen as it rebounded and smashed into Bram, who had leapt in front of Jazz.  It was enough to call the boy to attention again, and he found himself face to face with a monstrous creature with blackened skin stretched across a gaunt face, bared, impossibly white teeth, and glowing white eyes.  It snarled and snapped, its spittle landing hot on Jazz’s skin, but Bram held it off.  For the first time Jazz realized Bram was yelling.

“GET AWAY,” Jazz could finally make out, and it spurred him into action.  He fell back and scrambled away quickly.  In his hast, he knocked over one of the plush chairs, and his hand fell down on something soft and fleshy.  It let out an unpleasant screech, and Jazz reflexively yelped and tossed it away, straight toward the creature Bram was struggling to hold back.  The little black shape sailed through the air, still screeching, and was immediately snapped up by the beast.  It tore the thing apart and greedily snapped up each and every single peace, quickly quieting its snarls and growls until it let out a final, low hiss and Bram let go.

The creature shot the man an indignant glare, its face surprisingly humanoid now that it was sated, and stalked back over to the place that had been behind the screen.  Now that the barrier had been knocked over, Jazz could see it contained a cubbyhole littered with bones and little scraps of things he didn’t want to think about, as well as a single, large, torn up doggy bed, with stuffing sticking out of it.  The creature promptly turned around in the bed twice, three times and plopped down, seemingly at rest, though Jazz could see its eyes watching him carefully.

“That was quick thinking,” Bram said through heavy breaths.  “Throwing that ickling like that.  Did you know Crom ate those, or were you hoping it’d just distract it?”

Jazz turned back to Bram, eyes still wide and shocked, and all he could get out was a simple “Wha-?”

After a moment, Bram shook his head.  “You had no idea…  About any of that…  Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume…” He got to his feet and offered Jazz a hand up, which the boy mechanically accepted.  “That’s Crom.  If I’m the Enkindler, it’d be the Enkindled.”

Something clicked in Jazz’s mind, and he was able to speak once more.  “What are you…  What in the world are you talking about…?”

Bram stared at Jazz for a moment, before letting out a sigh and hanging his head.  “I should start at the beginning.  Jazz, how much do you know about the Gods?”

Jazz stared at Bram blankly for a moment, before speaking.  “You mean like…  Guardian Sky, and Boss Amber and Selfee?”

“And Sharkie, and Haitch, and Myriad, and Whim, and Musashi,” Bram confirmed.

“Aren’t most of them myths?  Old Gods worshipped by religious fanatics?” Jazz asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bram grimaced, looking away.  “Not as such…  I take it your family isn’t religious then?”

Jazz shrugged.  “We have a few shrines in the house, but no one really takes it seriously, it was mostly just habit.  Mom still puts down offerings, though…  Or...” He trailed off, and Bram quickly picked back up.

“Well then you have standing with at least a few of them!  That’s good.  But…  Most of those stories about the Gods?  Those are true.  At least in part.  Some might be made up, and I’m sure more than a few have been embellished in some way or another.”

Something dawned on Jazz, and he looked over at Crom, who snored quietly in the corner, its eyes still fixed on the boy.  “Then that thing is…”

“A god, yeah,” Bram said, nodding.  “Crom the Enkindled, the Instigator of Negativity.  It’s an older, mostly forgotten force, but still alive and well as you can see.”

Jazz gulped.  He wanted to protest, but it was hard to when the evidence was literally staring right at him.  “And you’re his…  Caretaker?”

Bram grimaced and rolled his eyes.  “I’m a God too, Crom’s other half.  That title wasn’t just for nothing.  Also, Crom is an it, not a he or a she.  It prefers it that way.”

Again, Jazz glanced over at Crom, giving it another once over, before turning back to Bram.  “A God…  Then the ears…”

Bram nodded.  “That night, I was the one who rescued you from that sinking car.  I happened to be passing by at the time, and…  I brought you back here.  I wasn’t sure what else to do…  Normal mortals can’t see me, and you wouldn’t have survived if I hadn’t done something…”

“You said you’re a God, right?”

Bram eyed Jazz.  The boy was staring at the floor, and Crom had begun to let out a low hiss.  “I did,” the Enkindler said, already knowing where this was going.

“Then why didn’t you save my parents as well?”  Another growl from Crom, but Bram shot the creature a glare.  It stopped immediately and began licking a wound on its face that bled white.

The Enkindler turned back to Jazz and sighed, swiping a trickle of blood from his cheek.  “I’m sorry…  Like I said, Crom and I…  We’re somewhat forgotten.   Neither of us is especially powerful, not in the ways that others are, and even what little we do have is all in Crom.  I’m practically mortal, with the added benefit of not growing older or dying from sickness…  I tried, believe me I tried, but…  I wasn’t strong enough…”

Jazz stared at Bram, a look of desperation on his face.  “What about…” He looked down and plucked at his nightgown.  “You said you got a friend to dress me.  Was that another God?  Doesn’t that mean you could ask them for help, or…  Or get one of them to bring them back to life or change the past or-“

“It doesn’t work that way!” Bram interrupted, his voice sounding hoarse.  He leaned back against the counter behind himself, his head thumping against it.  “I can ask them, but I hold even less power in their courts than my own.  Just because I ask doesn’t mean they have to respond, and the few I have good standing with either wouldn’t, or couldn’t.  It’s seen as somewhat irresponsible, after all…”

There was a pause as Jazz clutched his knees to his chest, staring at them, before Bram spoke again.  “Do you have any relatives I can take you to, or…?”

“I don’t know…  Mom was an only child, and her parents died when I was still a baby.  As for Dad…  He didn’t talk about his family much,” Jazz said, his voice quiet.

“Any friends of the family?”

“No one that would be willing to take me in, no.”

Bram nodded.  “Well…  I have a way we can check…” He said, getting to his feet.  Jazz looked up at him, and swiped at his face, his cheeks red.  The Enkindler pretended not to notice.  “There’s a bathroom in there with your old clothes, you’ll need to get changed.”

It only took a few moments for Jazz to change into his old clothes, and he came out with brushed hair, wearing light colored jeans, a heavy, fur trimmed purple coat, and his leather wristbands.  Bram had also put on a coat, made of a worn, natural leather, the same fur that made up the blankets Jazz had woken up in sticking out of the collar.  The Enkindler nodded at his guest, hoisting a woodcutter’s axe over his shoulder, and stomped over to the door in a set of heavy boots.

Crom let out a gurgle, snuggling down deeper into its bed, and Bram waved at it.  “We’re off.  Be back whenever,” he called, to no response from the creature.  Bram leaned down and whispered in Jazz’s ear as he opened the door.  “It’s sulking because I fought it.”

As the door closed behind them and the winter chill hit Jazz, he shivered.  “You mean you don’t normally have to fend off attacks from that thing?” He asked, each word coming out in a fog of breath that lit up in the morning sunshine.

Bram let out a laugh, his footsteps crunching in the heavy snow.  “Attacks from Crom?  Nawh, it’s a big baby most of the time, more like a puppy than anything else.  So long as I let it eat all the icklings and rabbits it wants during the night it usually sleeps all day long.”

“Icklings?” Jazz asked.  There were too many questions that could have replaced that one, but for now he would go for the one he’d meant to ask before.

Bram pointed to the shadows cast by one of the fir trees.  Jazz followed, and spotted little glowing white dots staring out at him, as well as the outlines of what looked like inky black blobs all huddled together and shivering.  One let out a yawn, its maw stretching to reveal its lips were jagged spikes, and its insides a lighter grey, a little puff of warm breath spilling out of it.  Jazz wrinkled his nose.

“Crom eats those things?” He paused, realizing something.  “I threw one of those things at Crom and it ate it.”

“Don’t feel too bad, they’re manifestations of an overabundance of negative emotional energy,” Bram said, then noticed Jazz’s blank look.  “Basically little globs of bad thoughts.  Harmless on their own, but when they get together they can be rather destructive.  Mostly they just run around, dig, and make annoying screeching noises though.  Chances are, the one you threw at Crom was one it had brought in and plucked the legs off to save it for a snack later.  It does that sometimes, and the things can’t really feel pain anyway.  Here we are.”

Jazz blinked up.  The two of them had stopped short in front of a small shed around the back of Bram’s cabin, and the man was stomping his boots on a welcome mat set out in front of it.

“Minna doesn’t like it when we track snow into her realm, so make sure you stomp really good, alright?” Bram said, opening the door into a void of blackness.

“Minna?  As in Amarathimi the Librarian?” Jazz asked, blinking.

“The one and only, Bram called back, stepping through the door.  It quickly resolved itself around him, turning into a dark row of shelves containing hundreds upon hundreds of books of all shapes and sizes, all filed neat and orderly.  Jazz stepped up to the welcome mat and quickly stamped the snow from his books before following closely behind Bram, eyes boggling at his surroundings.

“So you know her, huh?” Bram asked over his shoulder, catching Jazz’s attention again.  The boy blinked and nodded, biting his upper lip.

“Yeah.  She’s one of the ones we had a shrine to,” he explained, peering upward, and sticking his head back out the door to check on the size of the shake.

“Please hurry,” Bram said, standing patiently at the end of the row.  “I can’t hold that open forever, you know.”

Jazz blinked back at him and quickly pulled his head back through, the door snapping shut behind him and disappearing.  “So this is her library?” He asked, craning his neck to see the top of the shelves in the inky blackness high above.

“Indeed,” Bram confirmed.  “I appreciate the work she does here, but I always found non-fictitious writing to be rather dull, so I don’t often stop by.  Still, the two of us are on good enough terms…”

“You make that sound as if you aren’t on good terms with all of them…” Jazz said, and Bram pursed his lips.

“With as many alignments as we have, it’s not easy to be on good terms with all of them, though I do try.  Not to mention, I’m a minor God, as I said earlier.  Most of them don’t even know I exist, I’m sure.” He said rather tersely, his steps starting to speed up.  Jazz hurried to keep up, considering apologizing for a moment, but decided against it.

“So what’s she like, Amarathimi?” Jazz asked, still staring at the library.  It was dark and dusty, yet there was still light enough to see by, somehow, and everything seemed to be an eerie green or deep blue for whatever reason.

“Minna?  She’s…  Well, you’ll get to see for yourself,” Bram said, turning another corner and stopping.  In front of them spread a sizable, well groomed garden full of bushes and flowers, the ground covered in lush grass, sunlight filtering down from above like a spotlight on a stage.  It was ringed by a stone wall, and at its center sat two figures discussing things in a hushed tone.  “Minna!” Bram called out, and one of the figures looked up quickly, her turquoise hood falling down around her shoulders, revealing blond hair and a young face.

“Bram,” she replied, looking relieved.  “Don’t startle me like that,” she turned to the figure and continued talking.  “Haitch, wait here, would you?  And don’t go changing anything, if you wouldn’t mind.”

The purple and black figure nodded, and shot a grin to Bram.  “Enkindler,” it said, nodding at Jazz.  “Is that an offering?”

“Not for you, Changer,” Bram replied stiffly.  He eyed Minna suspiciously, and Jazz noted that she pointedly pushed at her glasses, revealing her eyes to be a normal blue.  Bram relaxed, and a slight smile spread on his lips again.  “I didn’t expect you two to be canoodling.  What’s the occasion?”

Minna glanced back at Haitch, who shrugged, then down at Jazz.  “It’s…  Something to be discussed later,” she said hurriedly.  “Was there something I could help you with?  You don’t exactly stop by for reading very often…”

“I was wondering if you could help us find someone’s records.  It’s sorta important,” Bram said.  Minna’s lips drew at the corners.

“Bram, I’m somewhat busy at the moment, and I don’t exactly have time for irresponsible tasks such as…” She trailed off, suddenly seeming to realize that Jazz was more than just another set of ears.  She looked down at him, then back up at Bram, who gave her an apologetic smile.  “For him?” She muttered, her voice lowered.  “You didn’t bring a lost soul into my realm, did you Bram?”

“No, he’s still alive,” Bram said, and the sound of Haitch whistling echoed across the halls.

“Oh, Bram, a living mortal?  I would think you knew better…” Minna said, then sighed.  “If you’re sure this won’t get us in trouble with Taco.”

Jazz let out a stuttering laugh, but quickly covered his mouth as Minna shot him a disapproving glance.  Bram put a hand on his charge’s head and nodded.  “I’m sure.  We’re just looking for Jazz’s family.  If I send him back, I’ll be sure to have Myriad wipe his memory.”  Jazz glanced up, eyes wide, and Bram gave him an apologetic look.  “Sorry, it’s policy.”

Minna sighed again, but nodded.  “Very well, I suppose it won’t take too long.  What’s your family name, then?”

“Sol,” Jazz said.  “My dad was Travis Sol.”

“Birth year?”  Minna asked, eyes glowing softly.

“I…  Nineteen seventy-six, I think,” Jazz said, screwing up his face, trying to remember.

“I have one Travis Sol…  Only child, mother died in childbirth and father…  Not a good person.  I…  Oh…  I’m so sorry…”  She looked down at Jazz from the book that had materialized in her hands and grimaced sadly.  “I see…  Your grandfather is still alive, but...”

“I figured there was a reason he didn’t like talking about him,” Jazz said, looking away.  Minna glanced up at Bram, who just shrugged sadly, and continued.

“I can check further, if you’d like, but it doesn’t look promising…”

Jazz shook his head.  “Nah…  If it isn’t people they’d call before throwing me in an orphanage, they probably wouldn’t even be aware I exist.  I never really was down with relatives, anyway.”

“Well then, Jazz, I was planning on saving this until I was sure you would be okay with it, but if you’d like, I could look after you,” Bram said, looking overly casual.  “Sure, your education wouldn’t exactly be conventional, and I know I’m not a replacement parent, but…  You’d have a roof over your head, and food on your plate.”

Jazz looked up, thinking hard.  “You sure about this?”

“Yes, are you sure about this?” Minna asked, a bit more gravity behind her words.  Bram glanced at her, before looking back down at Jazz.

“We can work out the details later,” He said, shrugging.  “But I’m fairly certain it would be better than an orphanage.”

For a moment, Jazz felt unsure.  Then, a blossom of warmth built in his chest and he looked up at Bram, smiling, barely noticing the disapproving look Minna was giving the man.  “Yeah,” he said.  “I think I’d like that.”

“Good,” Bram said.  “Minna can act as witness, then.  Now we should probably let her and Haitch get back to work.”

“Alright,” Jazz said, following closely behind Bram.

  “She wasn’t as I’d imagined,” Jazz said as the door closed behind them.

Bram glanced down at him, his breath forming a cloud in front of his lips.  “No?”

Jazz shook his head.  “No, she was a bit…  Well she always was described as somewhat distracted.  Being a record keeper, it doesn’t surprise me.  But that was more like…  Like she was outright afraid of something.”

For a moment, Bram didn’t say anything.  Then, he nodded.  “I’d say she was too.  Whatever it was, it was definitely eliciting a powerful negative emotion.  Hopefully it doesn’t come back to bite us, later.”

“Does that sort of thing happen a lot?” Jazz asked, and Bram glanced down.

“Sometimes.  It’s definitely not all fun and games,” he said.

Jazz nodded, and didn’t speak for a while, listening to the way their boots crunched in the snow.  “Bram?”  He asked, finally.

“Mm?”

“You know I’m not always a boy, right?”

“I know.”

“And you don’t mind?”

Bram looked down, lifting an eyebrow, but Jazz’s expression was serious and scared and ever so slightly hopeful.

“I don’t mind,” he said.

Relief spread over Jazz’s face, and he tucked his face into the collar of his jacket, enjoying the warmth.  “Good.”

  To Be Continued

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I'd like to mention that when I started writing this, it was only supposed to be an intro for Jazz.  But as it went longer and longer, I decided to make it an episode in the Anemnesis Lost series, which gave me some freedom to include a few things that wouldn't have appeared otherwise.

Anyway, if you wanna know more about Jazz, there's a reference and write-up that can be found here.  This also introduces the icklings which has more information on them here.

Haitch belongs to mr-haitch Minna belongs to amarathimi

Others mentioned but not shown

Siltae belongs to siltae Guardian Sky belongs to samurai-sky "Boss Amber" belongs to contramonster Selfee belongs to rockafiller Sharkie belongs to phantomesharkie Myriad belongs to broeckchen Whim belongs to parzifalsjudgment Musashi belongs to mumumadness Taco belongs to zombiedogdoes

and i think that should be it.  if i'm forgetting someone, lemme know.