@Tousaint did not care so much for the water. mireille silently wondered if it was val which had manifested in her boy; they both shared a dislike of the ocean. while this notion pleased her, the boy's reticence toward their beloved ocean was more worrisome.
"come wid me to de beach," she told the growing child one morning.
"i want to gat'er oysters while de tide is out."
over the meadow, through the tunnel, onto the pale beach that held so many stories for the sapphique wolves.
While he wasn't particularly keen on having to swim in cold water, getting hand-picked to go and do something alone with his mother pleased him. It was flattering, being chosen- and reassuring, knowing that his mother would likely discourage and tag-alongs, since this was a task she'd specifically asked him to help with.
He was quiet as they made their way to the beach, willing and obedient, fond of the comfort he felt in his mother's presence. With just the rush of the lapping waves in his ears, his fraying nerves seemed to mend.
He eyed the roving waves with a faint frown. He did not fear the water, but dreaded the touch of its chill. Already the wind had begun to grow colder and while his fur had thickened, he suspected no winter coat could ever truly keep the icy pierce of cold water from reaching his skin. At low tide, he hoped they would not have to go in too deep.
mireille paced into the wet sand, beginning to dig the shellfish from their berths. she stacked them beside her heel, kicking them back behind her until a thin trench was made from the oyster-beds to the higher ground.
"maman say once dat t'ere be clams, fur'ter off. in de water," mireille added pointedly, "below de water. ones dat hold a color of pearl i havenae seen before."
shells clicking against one another, the pile sliding behind her careful back-step.
He observed his mother's behavior, and began to mimic it, prying the oysters from their hold, feeling the waves lap regularly at his belly. With time, he winced less, and he became adjusted to the temperature. As long as he kept moving and pulling oysters from the rocks, he was able to keep warm enough that he barely noticed the waves as they swept around him.
He tilted an ear toward his mother and paused. "What colour?" He asked. He pulled another oyster from the rocks and deposited it on the shore. "I want one." He decided immediately. "But you 'ave to tell Sobeille-Miette dat she does not get to touch it," He said fiercely. "She ruined de foxtail dat Val gave to me," He said with an arrogant sniff. He still felt slighted.
"i do not know. we will have to look when we go over," mireille hinted, though her ears came up at the revelation he offered. he had used his sister's name in entirety; he must be quite offended indeed.
"what if we brought sobeille som'ting of her own, tousaint?" mireille suggested. "you get gifts. she is jealous. give her a gift an' see what she does. i will tell her, however, dat she cannae be ruinin' objects dat do not belong to her." though she would have preferred to see them share.
He envisioned a pearl unlike any of the others that had been exposed at the pearl ceremony; given the loss he had suffered when Miette had destroyed his foxtail, he figured he deserved something very special indeed.
His expression sharpened when his mother suggested that they should gift one to his sister too. He fumed. "Non!" He barked. "She already 'as her own gift, dat Val gave 'er." She'd tried to get him to trade his foxtail for her sharktooth, but he hadn't wanted it. "She should 'ave been 'appy wid dat, but no. She goes for my fox tail. steals it in de middle of de night, an' now it is ruined." He complained. "It is not fair! We should toss her shark tooth back into de ocean so she knows 'ow it feels." He added darkly, before he pulled another oyster free from its hold, and set it on the pile with the others.
no; she listened to his anger and saw how miette carried fire inside herself, and how it had already scorched her brother.
"all right. den maybe i show you someplace where you can keep your t'ings," the obsidian invited, thinking of the cave she had discovered with loko long ago.
"come wid me," she said in a conspiratorial tone, heading for the cliffs. "no need to do such wid anyt'in' she owns, tousaint. i will talk to her. you will keep your treasures hidden, like la pirata rosalyn."
He was not appeased by the suggestion that his things should be hidden. His fierce sense of injustice urged him to push further.
"I 'ad pirated it! I put it up in a tree so she could not get it but she 'ave Astera help her to get it, ugh!" He complained. He had already tried being sneaky, and keeping it out of sight. He played with it only while he was on his own, and had deprived himself of the joy of fondling it more, fearful that Miette might catch him with it. "I want 'er shark tooth tossed in de ocean, so she knows 'ow it feels. If she knows 'ow it is to lose somet'in' she loves, she will not go for mine again. Dat be only fair, Maman," He persisted ruefully.
He was silent for a moment, and he stopped in his tracks. A new thought turned him sour. "You be pickin' favourites, Maman. She get away wid everyt'ing."
"you be wantin' me to t'row miette's t'ings into de water to prove i am not having favorites, tousaint?" mireille asked, flicking her crimson ears toward him with a long look. her mouth twitched. "why don't we do dis: you t'row her stuff into de ocean, an' i willnae intervene, hm?"
favorites! why did he think this? she wondered if her compromise would be equal enough to satisfy her son, or if she would need to seek a new method of appeal.
thus far had mireille been a rather hands-off parent, preferring her children to settle such themselves. perhaps she needed a new way of being.