Sacred Bones

Part III.| Darklings

"You idiot," I hiss at Hope.

He blinks at me, patting his ribs without speaking another word.

"My ribs are fine Hope- stop hurting yourself for me!"

Beaux's head snaps up at my outburst. She puts a finger to her lips in fear.

"How in the world would earl gray hurt our Hope?" Father queries banally. His voice is flat, but his face is pinched in anger.

Hope cringes and clutches at his stomach as Father gets louder.

"Zem Droghan are awfully opinionated today. What if your people knew you were less than dirt? How does that sound? I should bury you all and be done with it, but you are somewhat needed by the Coureus at Vespra, gods know why. Darklings, all of you- the gods died centuries ago. You come from cur blood. Now be quiet, and eat."

Hope lets out a strangled cry, not at the insult- but at the fact that his gums are bleeding profusely, dripping carmine onto the whorled wooden floor.

"You shouldn't drink rockwort so quickly droghan. Your teeth could fall out from the pain."

Hope spits on the rug at this, wipes his reddening face with a dirt-embalmed hand, and turns to storm out of the room. Beaux's eyes darken in what could be anger or despair.

"Stop being so stubborn Hope- it's what always gets you hurt. Please."

"Sit down, all of you-" Father says brusquely.

I sit down. Beaux and Hope follow suit, Hope putting his head down on the table, his free hand over his mouth so that he doesn't speak or stain the raggedy placemats.

"My children," Father starts. "Are so– peculiar."

None of us can argue with that.

We eat silently, fearfully- until Hope passes out and the bell tolls for our day to truly begin.

"Go clean yourself Darklings," Father sneers. "The populace is waiting for their miracles." 

hiii i'm back with crappy stories woohoo!