Devil's Paint; A Fairytale

Day (-3)

"Icarus, chop those, we don't have all day!"

The venom-tinged voice of his mother was just enough to snap Icarus out of a day-dream and back into his home. He knelt on a woven grass mat near the door flap. There was a knife in his hand. Right; He was supposed to be chopping cucumbers for dinner. He picked on carefully out of the wooden bowl, skilfully peeling the skin and chopping it into slices.

Blair continued to rant, stoking the coals of her fire with a small poker. "All my other kids turned out fine; Tom and Everett and Lucy, and they're always helpful. In fact, they're out in the field right now, harvesting more vegetables. What are you doing? Wasting my time, that's what."

Icarus lowered his head, letting the words stream past him and into the wall. "This is what I get,, a son that thinks and acts just like his lazy father! A dreamer, that's what you are! Get your head out of the clouds and into this house!"

"Yeah, okay Mom."

The door flap was pushed aside, three small children cramming themselves through the opening. "Mummy!" The littlest, a girl called, "We got the potatoes!" She held up a basket, the two boys behind her grinning proudly. "Good job" Blair praised, not once looking up from the pot of soup. "Give them to Icarus so he can chop them and then go fetch the peas. Lucy, don't forget which ones are ripe."

Lucy, thought Icarus as the little girl placed the basket near him and streaked out of the house, meant well. But when would their mother truly appreciate either of them? In a melancholy mood, he started in on the potatoes. It was an important occasion; The priest was to attend dinner in their home tonight, and Icarus was expected to help out as much as he could. Yet no matter how hard he tried, his mind always wandered back to the fantastic view from the roof of the skyscraper.

Icarus' home was small, as homes in Hostel went. It only took up the first floor of a squat, grey tower near the church. The floor was completely covered with braided grass, except for where the fire pit sat in the center. The washtub was in one corner, the bedrolls lined neatly in the other. Icarus had a cousin whose home stretched up to nearly the sixth floor of her tower. He'd been there once or twice, and it was quite nice.

Icarus had barely finished with the potatoes before his mother bustled over and grabbed his plate, scraping the chunks into the pot. "Speaking of your father," She muttered, "That man is taking much too long to fetch the meat! The priest will get here before he does!"

As if on cue, Icarus' father chose that very moment to waltz into the room, a sack of meat slung over his shoulder. He shared his eldest son's dark hair and sea-foam eyes, smile lines crinkling the corners of his mouth. No sooner than he'd gently placed the sack on the ground did his wife spin, snapping at him. Icarus had the sense to remain small and silent as the woman began her tirade.

"Where were you?"

"At the herder's house-"

"No! I don't care! You could've been late and ruined this evening for all of us! What do you have to say for yourself, Darce?"

"Sorry," Darce said sheepishly, averting his eyes and scratching the back of his head. "Won't do it again."

Lucy rushed back into the house, her brothers in tow and excitement on her face. "Mummy, Daddy, Icarus!" She blurted, "The priest is here!" The little house was a whirlwind of motion, of soup being poured and the straightening of pigtails and the brushing of dust off every last little thing.

From his place at the fire-pit, Icarus watched the priest stride into the room, his ivory robe starched and perfect. "It is good to see you all," He said, eyes twinkling, "Blair, my daughter, Icarus, my eldest grandson, I have missed spending time with you."

Icarus felt his cheeks heat up. He didn't particularly enjoy being referred to as the priest's grandson, but Blair was the old man's daughter, and Icarus Blair's child, so it was completely unavoidable.

The rest of the meal however, went without incident. The priest began with a prayer, before anyone were to eat a bite.

"I thank our God for this wonderful meal, and for the family I will share it with. I thank him for his generosity, for creating these towers for our ancestors to find and to dwell within. Amen." This time, Icarus echoed the old man. It wouldn't hurt, really. And his thoughts were still other places, with his hidden paints and canvas and with Letitia, and high above, in the sky.