Previously on Other Peoples' Heartache

A Different Way To Be

Note: Prompt sent in by Backuppixiedust: "How about Chloe first discovering manga and/or anime?" Okay, I'm going to say the time period is way before Things We Lost, probably shortly after Tome Tomb has been established. However it does reference spoiler information from chapter 2 of Torn Apart so if you haven't gotten there, don't read this chapter yet...

......

"Chloe?"

She lay curled on her side. Duet paused at the doorway. She seemed to prefer the thick nest of hay and grass he had first made for her, as the bed stood completely made and unused on the other side of the room.

"I'm on my way out." His voice was quiet, but she flinched, drawing in on herself as if even sound hurt. "I'll be back with some kale and walnuts tonight. Is there anything else you would like?"

She reached a hand up to her forehead, running her fingers along her bandage with a vacant expression. He averted his eyes. Those hideous memories were gone, removed as quickly as he could manage, but she hadn't spoken since her first harvest. Had he damaged her mind?

He had to leave for the store. Nobody was coming to buy anything and he suspected it had to do with the haphazard stacks of books teetering everywhere. The Shiker had provided them with the means to make their way, but the world around them was madness. Steel fortresses brushing the clouds, carts that moved themselves over stinking roads, and little boxes that people used to talk to each other that came in all kinds of shapes and sizes.

It seemed certain sized boxes specialized in certain kinds of communication. The one in his pocket weighed like lead. This one was used to call them back for harvesting. It would lie silent for some months, thankfully. But he needed help.

So did she, but they couldn't see a doctor in this world. He couldn't explain the hole in her forehead and the pain in her body.

"I'll be back later." He brushed his knuckles across her cheek, but she didn't respond. Shutting the door to their apartment, he locked the door and shuffled out. As he walked to the store, head down, he considered the problem.

The next best thing to healing, which he could not give under their circumstances, was distraction. If he could fill her time, perhaps she would not be so disturbed at the blank spots in her mind. But he had no time to teach her this written language of the human world. Some of the herd had encountered written words in their land, but it was laughable in comparison to the oral tradition they passed on from generation to generation. They could trace their ancestry and the stories of the herd all the way back to the first unicorn, but who would write such a thing? It was a story to be told with pounding hooves and dances on the hillside, not pressed flat against dry reeds.

Yet that was the currency of knowledge in the human world, and he could not fill their child's mind with their own history. The pain of it stole his breath for a moment. She could never know.

A sound broke through his thoughts and he lifted his head. He passed a store with a clear glass front, and inside were several of box devices. These, he had found, were the entertainment communicators of the realm that had replaced nearly every form of theater in the area. It brought theater, in small ways, within the home.

This particular box displayed, not a true actor, but drawings. They wore strange clothing and wielded swords that spoke like women, but in a foreign tongue. Lettering that he was just becoming familiar with scrolled across the bottom of the screen, translating.

"Perhaps we can't give her our oral tradition," he murmured, peering at the boxes, "But that doesn't mean there is no oral tradition to give her."

The organization of Tome Tomb could wait one more day. He walked into the store and after several minutes of stilted conversation, arranged to have the communication box delivered to his home, along with several smaller boxes of recorded oral tradition. The store manager suspected him, and Duet was fairly certain he had been given a higher than usual price to pay, but he did not mind. It was not, after all, his currency.

After purchasing ingredients for supper that evening, he returned to the apartment to find the delivery human waiting by his door. He ushered the man in, closing Chloe's door with his heel as he passed, and pointed to a wall. "Right there will be perfect."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Don't see a socket nearby, you sure that spot by the window isn't better?"

Duet raised his eyes, pretending to consider the man's suggestion, and nodded sagely. "Yes, that will do." He watched as the man unpacked the communication device and strung cords between it and the wall. As the man turned to leave, he cleared his throat, pulling out a piece of paper currency. "Thank you for your help. I have one more question to ask. How do you operate this tool and cause the oral traditions to appear?"

......

"Chloe?" Duet entered the apartment, setting the paper bags by the door so he could lock it. "Ah, you are awake. What story are you learning today?"

Chloe sat on the couch he had recently acquired, her legs folded to the side, leaning forward with rapt attention for the communication device. There appeared to be a dancer on screen.

"Oh, Duet, it's so beautiful." Her eyes glistened. "It's the story of a duck who wanted a sad prince to smile so much that she became a human girl to win his smile back. And that girl can become a magical dancer whenever the prince has need of it, to defend him and save the lost pieces of his heart. She doesn't know if she is a duck or a girl or a magical dancer, but I just know she will find out the truth of herself. You'll see." She raised her face, and he softened to see the first genuine smile on that face. "Everything will work out for her in the end."

......

Note: Chapter title excerpted from Dreams by The Cranberries.