Published by Mirros Publishing House, in cooperation with the Mirros Gazette. Printed date: 1049
The Odd Child Verity Voclain
For all of those who remain in my heart.
AD & E ♥
Verity.
This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
But if the earth ends in fire And the seas are frozen in time There'll be just one survivor The memories of our lifetime
One crisp morning in 1026 Verity waited patiently in the doorway of Kitten's Charm School & Scholarship Academy. She had already taken her belongings out of the cubby hole with "The Odd Child" written on it. The other labels were fun, but never interested her. Things like The Princess, Little Ballerina, Happy Daisy.
She had awoken early and taken her case downstairs, leaving the neat square tweed and leather piece out of the way. There is a mirror beside the door so that all the Kittens can check their appearance before leaving, and it was a fine idea. Checking that her petticoated white lace gown was spotless, the pink sash tied neatly at the back. A small white beret placed jauntily on her plaited pigtails. Finishing her check, she turns to see her patron standing in his thick tightly closed deep pink robe, his blonde hair mussed.
As they stand in front of the mirror, he pats her shoulder, having to bend down to her current four foot height to do so. "It's very early Verity. Why are you already in the foyer?" Valerian says gently, keeping his voice down as the others are very likely sleeping. "Well, I couldn't sleep and I'm ready to go so I'm just.. hovering." was all she could manage, before sighing. "I actually thought I might go by myself. I don't know if it's a good idea for you to leave the new Ballerina. She was still crying for her family last night, even though they're wretched." feeling her fists go into tight balls, then forcing them open - don't wreck the gloves.
"Is that a fact? I'm going to miss your insights.." Valerian says with that smooth half smile that makes everyone swoon as he returns to full height. "I expect it'll be fine for you to go then. By the time you get there they'll be open for business anyway." Awkwardly, he puts his hands in his pockets and gazes down at her.
Exasperated, she drags over a tall chair, climbing the rungs and then standing on the base, they're not even close to eye to eye. Because, after all, she is only twelve.. She hugs him around the waist as hard as she can. "I won't be far away. I will miss you every day, I promise." "You'd better not be crying, I don't think that's very appropriate on this your day of freedom." He says, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you." Verity says solemnly, as she climbs down and grabs her case. Wrenching open the door and stalking out.
She's quite unaware that as Valerian watches her flounce down the street, the smallest angriest, oddest child. He says "I love you too."
Last Edit: Sept 12, 2020 20:34:52 GMT 10 by Laurnath
But if the earth ends in fire And the seas are frozen in time There'll be just one survivor The memories of our lifetime
It's easily not far, but Verity dawdles through the Garden District. It's lovely, fresh with dew and not yet overfull of people. Careful to walk in an expected distance from people, and casually ensuring she's not being followed through the area. Well aware at this young age that nowhere is truly safe, and no one is actually all good.
In the back of her mind she hopes Valerian is having his cold juice and some chocolate toast and everyone is behaving. Though it was regrettable to leave without saying goodbye to everyone, she did write a note and assure them she would be nearby if they were ever scared that she didn't find a new home. Trust is hard to come by when you're a new Kitten.
Even with her circuitous dawdling, she arrived just before opening. Waiting patiently at the foot of the stairs and examining their sign, hoping no one bothers her. Gazing around, she is caught off guard as the door opens and a curvacious, short statured woman appears with a sign board on a wrought iron stand. She seems as shocked as Verity is, pushing back her short thick fringe of black hair shot with silver and then wiping it on her serviceable grey pantsuit. A white shirt beneath and a mans tie loosely knotted very low to show off what looked to be an ancient tribal necklace.
"Oh my goodness, hello, um.. let me put this sign down." the woman shuffles past and drops the sign in a well worn dint in the cobblestones. It reads 'Voclain Antiquities, Gifts, Verification and Restoration.' She wipes her hand again and offers it to Verity with the same level of confusion as before. "I'm Belle Voclain."
"Hello Belle Voclain. I am Verity, from Kitten's School. I believe you have been expecting me." she replies politely, shaking her hand with dutiful respect.
Belle seems taken aback and then motions up the stairs. "Claude is inside, we should... uh, inside."
Verity frowns at the oddness off the conversation and the surprised nature of one half of the couple. Was she not dressed correctly? She wore the height of fashion for children this age and also made sure to prepare herself appropriately on information about their business. Dragging her case up the steep front stairs, she wished for longer legs already.
The double doors of the white fronted mansion are painted a soft robins egg blue. The building is fetchingly symmetrical, with small balconets and shuttered windows. From the doorstep she can see all the way into an expansive back yard area. The floors are shiny dark parquetry wood and every surface has a small collection of curated items from different eras. They have notated cards with the information, like a museum. Verity gives a sigh of joy at the sight of it all. As she seeks out the elusive Belle and finds her standing next to a giant man, human, but... Sjoderford perhaps? Thick blonde hair and a neatly trimmed beard. A pale blue cotton shirt, work pants and suspenders.
He stands with his hands on Belle's shoulders as she whispers urgently about something. It doesn't look good.
Verity puts her case down near the door, closes it gently and then takes her hat off and holds it afront of her. Clearing her throat gently. "Is there something I've done wrong already?" she says so her voice carries to them. Standing in the middle of four large couches, arranged conversationally for large gatherings. A low lacquered table has a series of items being labeled.
But if the earth ends in fire And the seas are frozen in time There'll be just one survivor The memories of our lifetime
"She seems fine, Belle." Claude says abruptly. Motioning to Verity with one large hand. "Very polite." Still the woman seems reluctant to turn around. Verity takes a paper out of her pocket and unfolds it.
"This is my dossier, I will read it to you because I believe you asked me to come on the basis of this information. 'The Odd Child. Eloquent. Polite. Self sufficient. Speaks three languages. Able to manage most tasks independently. Diligent worker, independently funded.'
"The Odd Child, what does that mean.." Belle says, whirling around.
"We pick a pseudonym so we're safe from kidnapping. I didn't like any so I picked the Odd Child." Verity replies patiently. "I know I may seem strangely verbose for a small child, but that's just how I am. I went through the files and saw that you'd had trouble finding an appropriate child for many years. There were breakages, issues with theft. I understand the importance of your business."
Claude simply holds Belle to himself, patting her head at his chest level. He smiles warmly at Verity. Okay, so there's one positive here, but not two.
"Mrs Voclain. Are you not actually looking for a child after all?" she inquires politely, folding up her dossier again - may need it. "Because I can walk myself back to the Academy. I don't mind."
"Belle, look at the little girl. She's even holding her damn hat. Look." he says and turns his wife around to stare at Verity's imploring gaze.
"I... You..." The older woman sits heavily on the sofa and puts her head in her hands. Not seeing Claude offer Verity a seat across as he leaves the room. The sound and smell of tea brewing from the kitchen. No staff on hand. Why do they want a child?
Verity looks down at her legs hanging off the couch, her stockings have little pink roses embroidered on them. Absently she takes the Confessor Chain from within her lace collared dress and holds it for stability. Quietly praying for a solution.
"Valerias." Belle says suddenly, making Verity look up quickly. "Yes, it was a gift from my guardian. I attend the Cathedral at times, I believe greatly in her grace and abiding love." comes her quietly passioned reply.
"Darling, some common ground!" Claude booms happily as he puts down the tea tray. Including a matching tiny cup. It looks antique. How long had they been on this track? "We are working on restoration of the uncovered Ixion and Valerias correspondence." She knows her eyes must have lit up, feeling herself wiggling forward in interest.
"Sweetheart, I'm sure she doesn-" Belle starts, but trails off as she sees Verity's face. "Ixion gave Valerias the golden drop earrings that they believe symbolise their everlasting love and duality."
The room is silent for a moment, then Belle bursts into happy tears and embraces her husband. Claude rests his head on his histrionic wife's head and smiles apologetically at Verity, who takes that as a request to pour the tea and keep quiet. And she does, for many hours as she listens and takes notes while they recatalogue some recently re-evaluated stock in Ruby and Ivory figurines. It's clear they don't need a child, they want company.
But if the earth ends in fire And the seas are frozen in time There'll be just one survivor The memories of our lifetime
Late into the night, it becomes clear why there are additional couches. Belle is stretched out, under a thick tapestry blanket exhausted by her ministrations to the restock pieces.
Fourth round of tea, now with giant baguettes filled with good cheese. Claude and Verity sit across from one another. "It's become clear that you've been trying to fit a square peg into a round hole." she says gently. "Taking some odd routes to get to harmony?" Claude refills their cups and replies as quietly. "I believe for her whole life, Belle has been trying to fit in and feel normal." Verity considers this and eyes the reclined, sleeping woman. Fine features, a wide heart shaped face, tanned skin and a generous mouth. The black hair that is gently streaked with white in only one area, just on her left temple.
"She looks quite regular to me. Even beautiful. I like what you both do. This was the best day." she finally replies after swallowing. Earnest. "I think that's the hardest thing. She looks perfectly regular, but as a person she feels singularly unique and in a way extremely lonely." He says, stroking his beard as he leans back and watches his sleeping wife with a pained pride and deep affection.
"I don't like other people." Belle says quietly, not opening her eyes. "I just want to uncover secrets about long dead people.. and drink tea."
"It's okay, maybe I can like people for you." Verity cuts in before Claude does. "I'm very good at it and they will say things to me they don't say to anyone else."
Belle sits up and Claude frowns a little, handing his other half a plate, baguette and tea in short order - as if this nap, eating situation is fairly regular. Verity continues in an explanatory voice.
"Children get ignored a lot. Chances are I can help you navigate the social conundrums that you hate." and then immerses herself in her tiny cup of tea, giving them time to think and eat. The comfortable silence stretches on for a little. Sipping, chewing. The fire crackling and glowing shadows and light across the elegantly furnished room. Two small plonks as Verity slips off her ankle length heel boots and tucks her stockinged feet under herself.
"So you're a spy?" Belle says with confusion. "Sort of. Consider me as your ears where you cannot hear. In two major languages." she elaborates. "And you're definitely a child?" Claude says with worry. "Because I feel like you could be a construct or a... I don't know." "I'm definitely what people would see as a child. I'm here as your child.." She says in a slightly squirmy way. "I'm slightly older than expected."
"That's, reassuring. I realised after my nap I've not wanted to take care of someone else. I'm just afraid of dying a childless shrew." Belle says bitterly. Causing Claude to make a low rumbling discontented noise. "Who called her that?" Verity asks her new, super tall, strange parental male. "Just some women at a party. Their voices carried." he says coldly. "What bitches." Verity replies acidly.
Belle and Claude stare in shock, briefly and then fall into the kind of raucous laughter that can only come after midnight and after a lot of difficult stress.
But if the earth ends in fire And the seas are frozen in time There'll be just one survivor The memories of our lifetime
The fourth morning of waking up under the pink gauzy canopy of her new bed was as alarming as the first. It was much like living inside an eternal sunset of soft pastel colours. Complete with a creepy giant teddy bear with white pearl eyes that glint in the dark. She seriously considered blindfolding it, but it might earn her a stern talking to about being too strange again.
Allegedly girls nearing adulthood should be enjoying this sort of obnoxious softness more often. So she would endure to be as normal as possible, as she yet again dressed in a pale pastel cotton sundress and put her long blonde hair in a pink headband. Lacy stockinged socks and slipper like shoes with ribbons for straps. Utterly useless for doing anything but sedate walking. A tragic waste of good materials in her personal opinion.
After roaming the house in the last few days, she had found an old sewing station in an out of the way room. It appears around a decade ago, perhaps, Belle had ordered pattern catalogues from the high fashion houses and had created some of the clothes she was currently wearing. A good stock of 'strangeness and charm' needles and extra strong thread in every colour in the drawers. It was the first thing that gave Verity a happy wiggle in her step. At last she could do something useful for her new parents - just in time for the 'dinner thing' that they had been alluding to all week.
Being a child was both frustrating and useful. At this juncture, 'dinner thing' was infuriatingly vague and it seems that's how they treated most social engagements. Preferring to get lost in each other's company and their long hours sorting, defining, writing about and curating artifacts from all over. While a noble cause and certainly very enjoyable to watch - it made her wonder why they were quite so avoidant of their fellow adults.
Verity intended to ask, but first she would pilfer one of Belle's current gowns and alter the neckline, waist, hem and add some on-trend embroidery for this 'dinner thing'. Because in all honesty, she was starting to look like she had been dressed by a ghost that wanted her to suffer greatly. It made little sense to her, but perhaps it would be elaborated on eventually. Or it'd just be a 'dress thing'.
This new world continued to frustrate and fascinate her in equal measure.
But if the earth ends in fire And the seas are frozen in time There'll be just one survivor The memories of our lifetime
Sitting on the large settee in the great room, Verity gently unpicked and then set the neckline with a silver pencil. Rubbing the fragments into the fabric so that the needles could follow her guides and alternate their sewing and create a double stitched line. Using contrasting pale green and dark green threads on the black to create a double sweetheart. Her feet absently twitching to some unknown beat, creating a gentle pattering as she works.
"Are you... sewing?" Claude says, pausing in the doorway. His huge Sjoderfordian frame filling the doorway, holding a thick pottery mug of coffee that smelt honestly heavenly right now.
"Absolutely not. Summoning demons." Verity replies immediately. Dodging the spelled needles as she does her own neat stitches of red roses along the neckline. "It's very complex, but I promise that you'll be satisfied or your house back guaranteed."
"Your sheet didn't say sassy." He says with amusement, plonking down across from her and putting his slippered feet up on the middle table. A slight scuffed indentation to prove that is his very favourite spot. For some reason this warms her heart. "Is that one of Belle's gowns?"
"Yes, it is. I noticed that they haven't been tended to for a little while now. I thought I'd help out if I can. If she doesn't like it, I can probably just remake the old one." Verity says absently, the neckline elegantly and neatly sewn. She sets the needles to assist with the embroidery - again with the silver markings.
"You could do that? Are you some sort of sewing pixie?" he says, peering over his cup at her work. "Also not on your sheet.
"Who's a sewing pixie?" Belle says, entering the room with a big stack of old scrolls. "Oh, hello. That is a nice dress."
"Yes, it's yours." Claude says and obligingly hands his wife the rest of his cup of coffee as she dumps the scrolls next to him and reaches out for it. A soft, loving smile passes between them that Verity pretends not to see. Feigning intense focus on her final work.
"I don't own a dress like that." Belle offers factually between sips of the dark brew. "Actually it looks a bit like... oh.. right, you changed it. T.. thank you."
"I thought you might want it for the 'dinner thing'." An arched brow as she continues sewing, knotting and then biting off the thread. "Whatever it is.."
Claude and Belle for a moment look.. a little horrified. The latter putting down the cup and dragging her hands through her dark wiry hair. "Oh my gods, I forgot almost and I just realised we can't leave you here."
"Well yes you can, I won't burn anything down."
"Well, no it's more of a social faux pas if we do. Everyone wants to meet you." Claude says, leaning over and checking the cup for any dregs of coffee - almost sadly. His neat blonde goatee getting a stroke of his disappointed hands as he considers. "So we'll ensure that they're aware that you only eat vegetables as well."
"Oh. You don't.. have to do that it's fine. I don't want to cause any trouble. I'm working on being less troublesome." Verity says, standing up and flicking out the dress. Offering it to Belle. Who for a moment is a little speechless.
"It's lovely, I've never had an eye for these things. I just assumed.. a dress was a dress, you know." She replies, as Claude stands - rescuing the empty mug and wrapping his arm around his wife. "Anything looks lovely on you, Bee, you know that."
But if the earth ends in fire And the seas are frozen in time There'll be just one survivor The memories of our lifetime
The gown was deemed a success when Belle emerged to leave for dinner. As expected the modified neckline, hem and embroidery had updated it significantly. Making her look much more youthful and fresh. It seemed to agree with her, as she had added a large citrine necklace with ruby accents that mirrored the contrast stitches.
Allegedly, Verity's pastel peach gown with little printed hearts on it was deemed perfect for a dinner party. So they locked up the mansion and walked the few balmy blocks to the 'dinner thing'.
"So who are these people anyway." She says Belle and Claude, walking just in front of them as they hold hands and stroll.
"Old friends from Mirros University. We all studied Karameikos History together, but Belle and I went into Ancient Culture. The others took other directions." He says with a vague toss of his head, throwing back his long blonde hair. Admiring glances from the cafe they pass. Belle leans into him and gazes up adoringly. Her heart shaped face just around at his shoulder.
"They went into politics mostly." The woman adds, with a slightly stiff air. "A very contrary path to us."
"I see. Well I will do my best to be on my best behaviour then." Verity says, but out of habit crosses her fingers in front of her. Just in case Valerias is watching, because understandably - promises sometimes have to be broken.
When they got to the door, she knew this would be the case. The palatial house took up a double space on the block and was made of dark marble. The door was an obnoxiously bright azure blue with gold hardware. As it opened, a man and woman took up all the air with overenthusiastic and fake seeming greetings. Mostly centered around how good Belle and Claude looked. Okay, we get it, creepers.
Verity folded her arms. Waiting for the solid looking bearded man and his pale wispy red haired wife to say something interesting.
"Oh hello little girl. I'm Brixton Ackersley and this is my wife Bethan." He says jovially, reaching out to offer her a hug. Instead she shook his hand formally.
"How do you do, Mr and Mrs Ackersley." she replies appropriately, feeling the breath of either Belle or Claude hiding a laugh at her back.
"Ohh, look at you. You'd look prettier with a smile." Bethan says with a wide false smile that doesn't quite meet her big blue eyes.
"It's okay, my face isn't for you." the automatic response comes out, and she almost adds a good old clanger of a swear to go with it when she realises she already broke her promise to behave. However, the snickering behind her back assures her - this one is on the house. The Voclain house, anyway.
But if the earth ends in fire And the seas are frozen in time There'll be just one survivor The memories of our lifetime
At the table are two other couples. Verity deems them Bland and Blander. They seem to have married a partner who could be related to them in genetic suitability. Their whole job seems to be to laugh at everything the Ackersley's say and do. Perhaps they are constructs from another artificer.
Leaning over and speaking in what she thinks is a conspirational tone, Bethan says to Belle and Claude "I've sorted that little problem with your daughter's eating issues. Don't worry, don't have to thank me."
Basically as if they were waiting for her signal, the food is delivered by liveried servants who don't seem to be permitted to smile or speak. Verity thanks the lady who delivers her what appears to be a plate of what everyone else is eating, except that her peas, spinach, potato puree and pumpkin pieces are mixed in with unmistakable flecks of shredded pork and beef. As well as dripping from cooked fat. Even if she hadn't seen it, she would have smelled it.
"And so we went to this big auction of all these things from an old house sale, and this dinner set was hidden away in crates!" Mr Ackersley says in a bellowing tone, pleased with himself, clearly. Looking down, she can see they are fine porcelain and possibly from Ochalea.
"We were all still so young then, still living out of the dormitories and I said.. Where will you put that?? Didn't I Wes, at the time?" Bethan says, towards Belle and Claude. "Correctly! I add! Brixton had to use that crate as a chair for about a year or so - right!" The table at large laughs. A lot. Claude, does not. Belle quietly gets up and heads towards the back part of the house at a fair clip.
Meeting her father's eyes, she drops her napkin and then slides down at the end of the table, crawling around and out towards the door. Chasing down Belle.
Verity finds her leaning against the stair railing, enraged, hot angry tears welling and threatening to spill. "We should leave."
"We can't just walk out, we're still on the first course." comes the anguished reply. "That'd be unconscionably rude."
"Yes well, so was whatever that was. I can ensure we leave, but I need to break my promise. What do you think?" Verity offers, glancing back to ensure no one else is following. "You just need to wait until all the noise starts. Then grab me and say we need to go. Yes?"
Belle pauses for a moment or two, clearly struggling with head and heart. "Yes, whatever, okay."
A cause for genuine celebration now, Verity strides back into the room and climbs up on her chair. Then keeps climbing. Standing on it, with her plate of offensively doctored 'vegetables' in her hands. Holding it aloft, waiting for them to stop amusing themselves with themselves. Claude, immediately tenses pushing his chair back and putting his napkin aside. Watching the door for his beloved.
"My mothers name is BELLE." Verity says with the perfected tone of a child having a tantrum, as she pelts the plate directly towards the expensively laquered floor. Putting a giant dent in it and exploding shards of very-expensive-plate and filthy food everywhere.
Chaos, pandemonium. Screaming, crying. Finally, some retributio-
She is yanked off her chair and put over Claude's shoulder and hustled out of the house. Belle joining them and shouting insincere apologies. "Sorry, it's past her bedtime! MUST GO!"
They escape the gods-damned Ackersley's in one piece. Mostly.
But if the earth ends in fire And the seas are frozen in time There'll be just one survivor The memories of our lifetime
Around a block away, they finally stop running and begin laughing. Another manic session of mischief and stress expelled. Belle's angry tears turn to happy sobbing laughter. "You.. absolutely.. obliterated his plate." she says, holding her sides as if they may fly off. Claude looks around and guides them to a nearby small garden area beside a food stall. "Sit down, I'll bring us some actual food." He offers, squeezing both their hands gently before sauntering off. Head and shoulders above the majority of the crowd.
"He's very wonderful." Verity says solemnly to Belle, who is gently wiping her eyes and staring after her husband.
"Yes, yes he rather is - isn't he? I suppose I owe you an explanation.."
"No, you really don't. They upset you. I didn't like it. You don't have to tell me anything, everyone has a right to secrets."
Claude re-appears incredibly quickly with three artfully wrapped paper cones full of steaming hot potato chips, with lots of malted vinegar and salt. Handing them between each of them and also with a little wooden two pronged fork for propriety - when eating street food in a park. Another heart warming moment.
Verity swallows briefly and almost has her own tearful moment at the small, quiet generosity and love of the two of them. Unspoken constant support and ever cautious care.
"My name was Wesley Cassel. My best friend was Claude Voclain. I was engaged to Bethan Llocle when we met." Belle says, stabbing a potato chip and then putting it back down. "I fell in love immediately, as did Claude. I broke off the engagement. It seemed fine until Claude and I went off to Ylaruam on a dig." She chokes up a moment, and he puts his hand on her arm gently and takes over.
"The long white robes and headscarves to keep us cool in the hot heat suited Wes at the time. With that beautiful soft skin and long dark curls, the elegant robes, perfect cosmetics well.. One day I sat down and asked if he was happy, and at first the answer was yes. When I asked if he was afraid of anything..."
"I said yes. I said I was afraid I'd never be a wife and a mother." She finishes, staring down now at her hands after abandoning the food. The elegant mid length nails, lightly polished. A wide wedding band. Claude's hands over hers. "To be Wes was fine, but to be Belle would be like finally stepping out of a box I was born in."
"So I got down on one knee and asked Wes if he would be my wife." He says a bit wryly, a look of pure adoration.
Verity puts down her food and then stands. They look worried for a moment and she throws herself at them. Hugging them both on the bench. Her voice muffled as she says. "Thank you for trusting me with your story. It is beautiful."
"Everywhere we go, we go together." Belle says, and Claude nods firmly. "That's our motto."
But if the earth ends in fire And the seas are frozen in time There'll be just one survivor The memories of our lifetime