#spellswordkhint

Quince gave a small wink to Eph when he dropped off the package, but when he saw who it was from, he couldn’t help but smile, a small flush on his cheeks. 

The affection came as a surprise; Quince was neither Khint’s child nor ward, but it wasn’t as if it was all that unexpected. 

@spellswordkhint

It was time for class again, but Quince couldn’t bring himself to give a damn. They would mark him absent, but he didn’t care. He would get in trouble with the school or with his mom, but it didn’t mean anything.

Nothing that he did meant anything.

Who or what is the one thing that makes your character feel safe?

He wasn’t like the other kids. He wasn’t big and strong, he wasn’t into video games, and he didn’t like playing outside.

Kids, he remembered, are cruel, and he could recall nearly every mean thing he had been called. It was only for a few weeks; they needed a new target to pick on every now and then, and after a particularly embarrassing incident during Physical Education, it became his turn.

But he couldn’t be weak, they tormented you more when you were weak, so when his mom would ask him what happened to this pair of clothes, he would tell her that he tripped and fell. 

Back then he thought she believed him, but now, he realized that she didn’t know what to do, why her son would come home covered in scrapes, or how to get him to talk about it. 

Which is why, he supposed, that his mom asked Pyria for help. 

Seven years older than him and nothing alike physically, no one could tell from first glance that Pyria was his sister; sometimes, on his worse days, she didn’t feel like his sister either. She had arrived at Meridian Academy to pick him up, and found instead a group of broad-shouldered kids shoving him into the decorative fountain. 

He was afraid, at first, that she might yell at him, but as she kicked each bully to the ground and sent them running, he found he felt a different sort of emotion. She pulled him out of the fountain, wrapped her jacket around his shoulders and held him close. His sister never showed much emotion, but, to him, this small gesture spoke volumes.

He cried, and only begged her not to tell their mother.

“Only if you promise you’ll come get me if those kids bother you again,” she was stern, and left no room for argument, so he didn’t answer. “Promise me, Quince, or I’ll tell mom!”

“O-okay, I promise!” He was soaked, and he was tired, and he was crying, and his sister embraced him and pet his hair like their mother used to do to help them sleep.

“You don’t have to worry, Quince,” she said, not minding that he was probably getting her wet as he clung to her and cried. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Hm?” Khint looked up from his tablet, partially surprised that he was being addressed. Then again, he did know more people than he gave himself credit for. “Amira is doing well, thank you for asking.” He responded, more warmth in his voice than usual. That was always how it was when he mentioned his daughter. “She’s enjoying school. How are you doing, Nate?”