Calan
Whatever else Calan might have done, suggested, or bravely reconsidered is taken from him the moment Fern tips out of the window. At first, he is not worried. Not really. There is a bird sitting on his shoulder, after all, and the main thing Calan has learned about birds so far is that they are mostly feathers and outrage, which makes them very light. Catching one should be easy. Catching one with Carlo should be even easier, because that is twice as many arms and therefore twice as much success. Then Fern turns back into a girl.
Calan’s eyes go wide, and in the blink before impact, a very quick list of all the ways he has miscalculated flashes through his mind. Birds are small. Girls are bigger than birds. Windows are high. Crates are not the ground. Their arm-net does not come with instructions. Then Fern hits them like a launched sack of elbows and knees, and all three of them go down in a crash of boxes, limbs, and breath knocked hard out of bodies.
The back of Calan’s head hits the pavement just as Carlo's does, and for a second, everything pops bright and strange behind his eyes. Years later, because it sounds much better, he will tell people how both he and his brother saw stars the first time they met Fern. In actuality, what he sees are great blotches of white that make him blink fast and stupidly up at the sky while his mouth hangs open. The Hel, meanwhile, gives one furious screech from somewhere near his shoulder, deeply offended by the working conditions, and launches itself back into the air in a storm of wings.
Calan drags in a breath, decides that his bones are probably still where they started, and turns his head enough to look at Fern, who, they did catch, technically, which means the plan has worked. Nodding, he adds, "We heard your only friend was in Halo, which is really far away." He blinks once more, clearing the last of the bright spots from his vision, and gives her the serious look of someone explaining something obvious and generous. "So we aged up so you wouldn’t have to play alone."
Calan’s eyes go wide, and in the blink before impact, a very quick list of all the ways he has miscalculated flashes through his mind. Birds are small. Girls are bigger than birds. Windows are high. Crates are not the ground. Their arm-net does not come with instructions. Then Fern hits them like a launched sack of elbows and knees, and all three of them go down in a crash of boxes, limbs, and breath knocked hard out of bodies.
The back of Calan’s head hits the pavement just as Carlo's does, and for a second, everything pops bright and strange behind his eyes. Years later, because it sounds much better, he will tell people how both he and his brother saw stars the first time they met Fern. In actuality, what he sees are great blotches of white that make him blink fast and stupidly up at the sky while his mouth hangs open. The Hel, meanwhile, gives one furious screech from somewhere near his shoulder, deeply offended by the working conditions, and launches itself back into the air in a storm of wings.
Calan drags in a breath, decides that his bones are probably still where they started, and turns his head enough to look at Fern, who, they did catch, technically, which means the plan has worked. Nodding, he adds, "We heard your only friend was in Halo, which is really far away." He blinks once more, clearing the last of the bright spots from his vision, and gives her the serious look of someone explaining something obvious and generous. "So we aged up so you wouldn’t have to play alone."
I've never been one to half-ass shenanigans.
