Act 16

Proper Etiquette

~Dedicated to Shalimarkasan. Don't worry, you have inspired me.~

Try as you might, try as you may

And still you fail in every way

And yet you try, without dismay

For you will live to try another day

Sweat trickled down his brow.

Silver eyes narrowed in absolute concentration.

This was by far the hardest, cruelest…and most unusual task he had ever done.

He had to walk from one side of the room to the other, all the while balancing two books on his head without dropping them. It was nigh impossible.

The willow cane was rapped against the back of his knees gently.

"Keep your back straight and chin up." Reprimanded Sheryl, sharply watching each movement the boy took.

"I'm tryin'!" Red grumbled, precariously attempting to keep his head straight and concentrate on his feet so he didn't trip.

The Noble tsked—as he seemed to constantly these days—pointing the cane at Red.

"Not try-in, try-ing. Pronounce the consonant at the end of the word." Sheryl instructed.

If Red were capable his glare would have burned a hole through the floor. How had this started again?

…Oh yeah.

Instead of the Earl waking Red up in the mornings as per usual, this one cold December morn when the small hand on the clock had barely reached seven, a certain Sheryl Kamelot walked—perhaps pranced would be more adequate—into his room. Red had awoken to rather surprisingly Sheryl of all people. After a clipped "Get dressed and follow me." by the Noble, Red had sluggishly trailed after him. Breakfast was a quiet affair, seeing as barely anyone within the household was up. Red had kept himself occupied by trying to identify each of the individual letters on the back of the newspaper the Noble was reading. Afterwards he had been lead to a large empty room, filled with large windows.

And thus his current predicament.

Red took another step forward, his head tilting naturally to the side only by the slightest fraction…of course sending the books tumbling to the ground…again. After what felt like hours of the same ridiculous routine he'd had enough.

Sheryl sighed.

"Pick up the books and try again."

Red grit his teeth, irritation, frustration flaring hot and sharp.

"No! I don't wanna!" he growled.

Petulantly he turned his frustrations toward the books, drawing his foot back and kicking the one nearest to him across the room. Before the book could hit the ground again, it stopped mid-flight, as if suspended by invisible stings. Red watched wide-eyed as the two books flew backwards right into the Noble's waiting hand. Shaking his head and remembering he was supposed to be angry, Red glared at Sheryl.

"Venting your frustrations on the helpless books will neither improve your performance or make them simply disappear. Now then, again." The Noble said calmly.

"But why?! All ya—"

"—you."

"…You do is drag me here then tell me to put some stupid books on my head. What's the point?!" He nigh yelled.

"The point is to teach you to walk properly, not slouch and fumble around like some common ignoble."

"By puttin' books on my head? An' it ain't like it matters anyway, no-one'll care how I walk, I'm just some common in…ig—"

A sigh.

"Ignoble."

"Yeah that…ignoble." Red added.

Sheryl appraised the boy silently, seeming to consider him for a moment.

"Perhaps you do not fully understand what exactly your place within this family is…mind you neither do I." The last part was muttered far too quietly for Red to hear. "You are not a servant, chore boy or even some…glorified pet. Lord Millennium has seen fit to adopt you within this household—nay, accept you into our family, our clan. Which in itself is monumental considering your…nature. Therefore its is only right that you are to receive an education befitting that of your status."

Red blinked uncomprehendingly. The Noble's speech had contained words and concepts that his nearly eight-year-old mind couldn't fully comprehend, but he still got the general gist of what was being said. Somehow his being taken in by the Earl was unusual…possibly even unheard of. Somehow he was special?

Red nearly wanted to snort at the though. He, special? It wasn't a thought he normally associated with…on any level, but it kind of made him feel giddy, like he was actually wanted—on some level or another. Why the Earl had taken a waif like himself off the streets was still a mystery to Red, but for whatever reason it didn't matter to him. No, only one thing did, he owed the Millennium Earl his life, the man had fed him, clothed him, sheltered him, offered Red company and perhaps unintentionally a purpose. For that, Red would follow the Earl to hell and back; do anything to prove his worth to the man who had given him a reason to live. And if these stupid 'walking and talking' lessons ascertained his usefulness to the Earl then he'd do them…heck he'd be good at them!

With renewed determination he placed the books on his head and tried again.

…That determination didn't quite hold up as he tripped and stumbled to the ground for the twelfth time since their conversation.

Over the sound of Sheryl's exasperated sigh, snickers could be heard echoing through the room. Red glared at the three figures dwelling off to the side of the room, two mismatched twins tittering with each other and a certain Broken Ghost leaning against one of the windows, reading.

It seemed that he had gained an audience.

"Wha' the hell's so funny?" He growled in the twin's direction.

"You flailing around like a fish, that's what." Devit smirked, high-fiving Jasdero as they descended into peals of laughter.

Red grit his teeth as he glared at the two.

"Don' ya have somethin' better to be doin' with ya time?"

The twins glanced at each other, a look passing between them. The blond twin began fidgeting nervously—as he often seemed to—the strange light like fixture bobbing on his head.

"…We're hiding, from Earl." Jasdero muttered. "We don't want to run laps again."

Before Red could ask, Sheryl spoke.

"A fate in which you brought upon yourselves." He said disparagingly. "And you?" He added towards his brother.

The teen didn't look up from his book.

"Bored." He drawled.

Red ignored them as he attempted the exercise again, managing to make it five steps before the books slid again and tumbled to the floor.

"Arrrhhhg!" He growled, "This is impossible!"

Tyki finally looked up from his book.

"It's not impossible, you're just doing it wrong." He remarked.

Doing it wrong? How the hell were you supposed to do it right!? A note of irritation wormed its way through Red, how could Tyki just sit there and tell him it wasn't impossible, he had no idea. Of course he'd seen Sheryl do it, when he had demonstrated to Red earlier, but the prissy noble practically walked ramrod straight, Red was sure if he looked he would find a wooden plank stuck to his spine.

"Well if it's so easy ya do it." He challenged, expecting the teen to simply dismiss him and continue reading.

To Red's surprise, he didn't, instead his brown eyes appraised his much smaller form, then the books lying on the floor. He snorted, lethargically stretching his long form and propping the book down on the sill behind him.

"Fine," he drawled, lazily sauntering his way over to Red.

Red's eyes narrowed in annoyance, then amusement. There was no way in hell Tyki could walk across the entire room with the books balanced on his head—especially on his first try. But who was Red to say otherwise? If the Broken Ghost was stupid enough to think he could, then Red would just have to watch as he tripped over his own feet like an idiot.

Haughty grin warming his face, Red held out the books to the teen.

"Be my guest, but I'm gonna laugh if ya trip over." He proclaimed gleefully.

"I won't." Was the nonchalant reply.

Tyki slipped the books from Red's hands—carefully avoiding the left—into his. Without much ado he straightened from his decidedly laidback posture and placed the books neatly upon the crown of his curly haired head, they didn't wobble in the slightest—a feat that had taken Red at least a few hours. Red's expectant expression remained firmly affixed to his features as he watched the teen take a step, then another. Red's gleeful expression soon began to sour as it became rather apparent that Tyki was not wobbling or unsteady in slightest.

In fact not only did he make to the other end of the room without a single misstep, he preceded to walk around the edge of the open room, gracefully dodging Jasdero's out-stuck foot, picking up his own book and placing it atop the other two, before finally appearing before Red…all without a misplaced hair.

Red's jaw was decidedly slack as he struggled for words.

"B-But…how?"

The teen's expression settled into smug amusement.

"I assure you boy you're not the only one who has spent hours practicing etiquette, Sheryl is my brother after all."

"And yet despite my best efforts you seem to willingly ignore said etiquette." The aforementioned man muttered.

Red slumped to the ground, sullenly tracing patterns with his fingers along the floor. He couldn't do it. No matter how hard he seemed to try, he was completely useless at it. That particular thought brought Red's mood plummeting into darker territory. Useless…he was utterly useless again; the whole point of this stupid exercise had been to teach him how to be useful, useful to their family…useful to the Earl. But he wasn't, he was failing at something the two nobles had made seem effortless.

Useless. Useless. Useless.

The words seem to ring in his ears like a chanting crowd of children, dancing around inside his head, a mocking shout that wouldn't just shut up.

The sharp sting of tears prickled the corners of his eyes.

At the circus useless had always equated to unwanted, not needed. He owed the Earl everything, and if he was useless then he could never repay the man for his kindness. And if he became unwanted from these people—his first and only family, the only people who had ever showed him a smidgeon of kindness—then he might as well be better off dead—

"Hey, boy?" Red's self-depreciating thoughts were abruptly cut off.

Watery silver blue eyes peered up at the teen.

Tyki seemed rather taken aback by this. He sighed.

"Listen kid, I know it may seem frankly impossible, but I've had years of practice and unlike my brother, most people aren't born with the added advantage of having poles up their asses." His tone was surprisingly soft as he spoke.

In the background Sheryl gave a rather indigent huff.

"…So this is normal?" Red asked.

"…Mostly. Here," Tyki pulled Red to his feet, ushering the gloomy child over to one of the large windows. "It helps to have something to hold onto if necessary."

He discarded two of the books, leaving only the larger of them. "As well as keeping it simple to begin with."

"I hardly think this is the most appropriate method for the boy Tyki." Sheryl affixed.

The younger of the brothers only snorted in response. "Not all of us were born and raised in a noble household, trying to teach the boy with your approaches will be certainly less effective."

"Ya know I'm right here." Red muttered.

He was steered by the teen so he was facing towards the end of the room, but standing analogous to the window.

"Imagine a straight line running parallel to the window, try to walk along that line." Tyki said, handing the book back into Red's hands.

Red glared at the book disparagingly but placed it on his head nevertheless. He once again managed to make it five steps before the book was grounded.

Giving the teen a dry look as he spoke, "I don' get how this is supose' ta help."

Tyki frowned in thought.

"When you walk you naturally begin to slouch which throws off your center of balance," he commented, walking over to the boy and quickly correcting the position of his spine and tilting his chin up slightly. Red growled, tempted to bat the teen's hand away.

Stepping back Tyki added, "Try again, but this time don't concentrate too hard on your feet, look straight ahead."

"Fine." Red muttered.

Focusing only on the other end of the room, he very carefully placed one foot in front of the other, trying to keep his head and back in the position the teen had arranged them in. To his surprise he noticed an immediate difference, the book upon his head was far more stable and he didn't need to overcorrect it to keep his balance. One step became three and three became ten, a grin lit up his face when he realized that Tyki's advice had actually worked. For just a moment, the barest fraction of a second he flickered his eyes over to the window, to see his reflection within its surface—maybe to watch his own success—what he found wasn't a seven, nearly eight year old boy, with russet red hair and silver-blue eyes, no. A boy taller than he, with blackish-blue hair and eyes of the most piercing shade of light blue. The reflection was only partially visible against the white background of the wintery scenery from the other side of the window, a reflection that wasn't his, and that most certainly shouldn't have followed him from his dreams.

His eyes widened as the Shadow boy smiled. Red instantly panicked, shrieking and tripping over his own feet, tumbling over so badly he literally went head over heels, landing on the floor spread-eagle. Jasdero and Devit immediately broke out into uproarious laughter, Tyki on the other hand only sighed, walking over to the boy and pulling him to his feet.

"What the hell happened there boy? You were doing well before you…tripped."

"It distracted me." Red muttered.

"What did?"

Red looked at him, face as white as a sheet, incredulity flickering across his features.

"Wait, y-ya didn' see the reflection?!"

Tyki frowned, a single eyebrow raising.

"…No?" He said hesitantly.

Red suddenly growled, grabbing the teen's hand—despite their gaping height difference—and dragging him over to the window. Of course the teen had let him, seeing as the boy barely even reach his hip in height

"See?" Red proclaimed to the window.

Tyki stared at it blankly.

"No."

Red glared at the widow, desperately searching for the reflection that didn't belong to him, but there was only his and Tyki's.

"But it was right there! I saw it!" He cried.

The stupid Shadow boy was playing with him again. Just as the Shadow had appeared briefly for a time in his reflections, so too had his successive form.

Red hadn't even seen him move before Tyki was suddenly crouched before him—so that they matched in height—concern written across his features. Removing the glove from one of his hands—and pulling Red's fringe away from his forehead with another—Tyki pressed the back of his hand to the startled boy's brow. A frown flittered across the teen's face as he seemingly couldn't find something Red wasn't privy to, as such the bare hand began to wander across his scalp, fingers gently seeming to quest for something. Snapping from his shock, Red growled trying to slap away Tyki's hands, of course they only went through him as if swiping at the air.

"S-stop that! What are ya doin'?!" He hissed.

The teen barely flickered his brown eyes Red's way before addressing his older brother Sheryl.

"I think the boy's got a concussion, he must of received a head injury when he tripped."

Red's expression became incredulous. "I don—" he was cut off by Jasdero and Devit sauntering over to him.

"So he's broken—" Jasdero started "—from a fall?" Devit finished.

Broken?! What the hell were they suddenly getting so worked up about? He'd just tripped.

"Humans, particularly children, are rather fragile. Head injuries can be cause for major concern." Sheryl tutted, coming over to inspect the boy as well—despite his best efforts to hide it, there was definitely a note of anxiety in his voice.

Humans were fragile. Apparently Moahs…Noains…Noahs—whatever they called themselves—weren't, or were freakishly impervious to injuries. Red's eye twitched at all the attention he seemed to be garnering, his personal space bubble was being encroached upon. Really all he wanted was to get back to the Noble's stupid walking lessons so he could impress the Earl…then the Shadow Boy had to show up.

"I'm fine." Red declared but seemed to be ignored as Tyki held up three fingers.

"How many fingers am I holding up boy?"

With a growl of frustration Red cried "Why does it ev'n matta'—?"

Someone cleared their throat.

It was almost funny, Red mused, how quickly a single 'ahem' could silence the room…particularly coming from him. The Millennium Earl's hulking form stood in the doorway, a single brow raised expectantly from underneath his—ridiculous—tophat.

"What is going on here?"

From the identical looks of concern that crossed their faces, Red just knew they were going to say something completely unnecessary. He opened his mouth to intervene.

"Noth—" Only to be interrupted by the worst possible response any of them could have given.

"Red's broken—Hee!" Jasdero proclaimed loudly.

The Earl's golden eyes glittered in response.

"Oh, is that so?"

Because only the Earl of Millennium could make something so simple seem so foreboding.

Red gulped.

Stupid Shadow.

. . . . .

Stupid Shadow indeed.

Somehow a simple tumble had become a concussion that had escalated into a full-blown panic. And while Red over the course of the last few months here had become—dare he say it?—fond of his new, only family and its members, there was only so much coddling a child such as he could handle. The word 'broken' seemed to have set the Earl's paternal instincts off as he quickly demanded an explanation. Tyki had been happy to fill in the blanks, using words such as 'fall' 'concussion' and 'hallucination', weaving together some elaborate retelling that was obviously blown out of proportion—not that the Earl knew this. Of course the next thing he knew he as being carted away by the Earl himself—held as gently as one of those breakable dolls—tucked into his bed with two extra fluffed pillows and practically cocooned within his blankets, told to lie still and rest, with the resident guard-cat taking up her active duty once again. Needless to say it was a rather similar repeat of the last time he fell into the pond…though this time he wasn't actually sick.

This was all the stupid Shadow's fault—well Shadow boy now. The thing—whatever it was—couldn't just stay in his head, in his sleeping hours, now it had to interfere with his waking as well.

Come to think of it…he really didn't know anything about the Shadow. It had suddenly just turned up in his dreams the night the Earl had taken him in nearly four months ago, a strange static filled voice that echoed and called from somewhere beyond the fog. Then later a black faced grinning shadow with haunting white orbs for eyes that seemed to constantly reach for him. And now it seemed, a strange boy slightly older than he that spoke in dreamy riddles and frisked within the mist, that would suddenly have bouts of seriousness. While the Voice had been annoying—at times painful—and the Shadow infuriating—all the time painful—the Shadow boy was by far the most unsettling. Even though he looked the most human, he practically screamed of something that was not. This thing had been interfering with his life for far too long…and he wanted answers, answers he knew the Shadow boy could give him. That and he was ready to give it—and the Masked figure—a piece of his mind for all the pain they had caused him, with the twitches and seizures as such. Like he had leaned the hard way when it came to the Earl and his enigmatic family, if you wanted answers then you had to go directly to the source.

…Easier said than done when the source could only be found in dreams that he had no control over when and if they appeared.

Shifting uncomfortably under the weight of the black cat curled upon his legs, Red shut his eyes hard, for once willing the annoying dreams to come.

Because one way or another…sooner or later he was going to get his confrontation.

. . . . .

It was sooner rather than later.

He awoke—became aware—to the swirling clearing of mist and dead trees.

Unlike most times he appeared here disorientated and wanting rest, this time he had a purpose.

Normally the Shadow and all its incarnations showed up one way or another.

This time he wasn't waiting around for it to take its damn time.

No. This was his head, so he deserved respect.

"OI! I've had enough of ya stupid meddlin'! COME ON OUT YA STUPID SHADOW!"

His voice echoed across the clearing shattering the silence.

There was a pause then,

"If you deign to insult someone's intelligence and form in the same sentence they are less likely to come when you beckon."

The strangely mellifluous voice he had only heard once before responded.

Red struggled to keep his composure as he flickered his gaze to the boy sitting on a low hanging branch of one of the skeletal trees—who most certainly hadn't been there before.

"But ya still came anyway." He rebuked.

The dark-haired boy tilted his head, ice-blue eyes flickering.

"I suppose I did." He said softly.

Walking closer to the tree, Red kept his eyes fixed on the other's form.

"Who are ya?" He said bluntly.

The Shadow boy answered in an airy tone.

"White."

He said it so simply, as if the word alone was the solution to all Red's supposed problems.

"White." Red muttered dubiously. "There has ta be more to it than that."

The boy simpered, swinging his legs back and forth as they dangled from the tree branch.

"Red and white, blood and bone.

All that was is never known."

He chanted, voice a pleasant lilting sound, like the tinkling of bells.

Red growled, glaring at the boy.

"Shut up already, I don't want no stupid Nursery Rhymes, I want answers!"

The boy—White, simply smiled, letting go of his grip on the branch and hooking his knees around it instead, allowing for himself to hang upside down from the tree. His dark hair fell across his face wildly, ice-blue eyes bright with mirth—yet they still seemed so shallow, clouded.

"A wise old owl lived in an oak.
The more he saw the less he spoke.
The less he spoke the more he heard.
Why can't we all be like that wise old bird?" White crooned.

Red grew more agitated.

"Hey! I'm tal—"

"There once was a boy who yelled and yelled.

His voice empty as he cried.

But should his protests be suddenly quelled.

No answers would he be denied."

The rhymes echoed throughout the clearing, mirthful laughter resounding from White.

Every time Red tried to speak, demand an answer, or try to ask another question, White's chanting would cut off his attempts.

Red's eyes narrowed as he glared at the obnoxious boy, his endeavours to speak had settled.

Why was he being so…childish? It was like the Shadow boy was trying to teach him a…lesson?

Silver-blue eyes widened as Red recalled White's words.

"I know you. You're the boy that won't listen."

Won't listen.

Red drew himself up, looking at the other calmly.

"What are ya?"

This time the question was only met with silence, as White had finally stopped his chanting, turning his full ice blue gaze upon Red.

He smiled, cocking his head.

"So you listened."

In a move reminiscent of one of the performing acrobats at the circus, White gracefully flipped himself over from the branch and landed gently upon the ground.

"What are ya?" Red repeated, refusing to back down from his question.

White stood up.

"…I don't know."

Red pursed his lips, growling in annoyance.

"Ya just said that ya'd answer—"

"—I did." White imparted, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"Truthfully."

"It is the truth." White began to circle Red—a flash of anxiety shot through him at the last time the Shadow boy had done so.

"I don't know what I am. I cannot honestly remember." The dreamy expression of White's face darkened, a look of frustration passing over his features.

"That stupid, fog, stupid mist, once I knew everything, once I remembered, once…and now, now nothing."

White's canorous voice paused, ice-blue eyes locking with Red's.

"And you. You're supposed to be…" The shadow boy was rambling, sentences and trains of thought cutting in and out abruptly.

"But you're not. You're not. And I don't understand why." The lilting voice rattled on.

Red wasn't sure what to think of the pleading look White gave him, this wasn't exactly what he expected when asking for answers.

"I'm not who? Who's this weird person ya keep mutterin' bout?" Red demanded.

"Him." White responded with equal instance, looking at Red as if he was supposed to get it.

"Him who?" Red demanded again, beginning to feel like he was having an argument with a toddler; their sentences going around and around again.

"Him!" White cried.

"Him. Them. The…my…" White growled in frustration, fingers tugging at his hair, seemingly unable to spit out his words.

Red pursed his lips, the frown deepening upon his brow.

Geez, this kid couldn't seem to make his mind up, this kind of reminded him of these particular kind of freaks at the circus—Oh.

Red blinked, watching as White began to mutter again, pacing around Red in a circle.

The mutterings, the random swings in mood, the cryptic wording.

"Ooohh. I get it."

White looked up.

"You do?"

"Yep. Ya completely off ya rocker."

"I am not crazy."

"Yep ya are. Makes perfect sense now."

"But—"

"—Nope. You're utterly crazy…an' I must be too if I'm talking to a figurish…ment— or whatever—of my imagination."

White never got to protest as the world suddenly shook—

. . .

—he jolted awake.

Silver met with gold.

"Did you find out who he was?"

Red blinked.

"…huh?"

"You talk in your sleep." Tyki remarked.

"You watch me sleeping?"

"I'm not a creep."

"Could'a fooled me."

Tyki turned another page in his book.

"…It's quiet in here," he offered "and I took over from Lulubell. So did you find out who he was?"

Red shifted under his mountain of blankets.

"No."

Silver blues flicked to mirror hanging above the dresser and the reflection of the Shadow boy looking sullenly back at him. Probably annoyed at being cut off. Good.

"I also forgot to tell him to get lost."

Ice-blue eyes narrowed, the image wavering and disappearing altogether.

Tyki raised an eyebrow.

"I think you may want to keep sleeping that concussion off."

Red groaned stuffing his face into a pillow.

Dammit.

A/N: . . . . . . . . . . . ahhhhh. A year huh? That's a new record, even for me.

I...geez. A lot of things have happened in the past year, finishing school and getting a job only one of them. I've been writing this fic for over nearly four years and for the longest time it was my baby. A lot has happened in that time and I've found other ideas and interests since (...that and I procrastinate too much). Working on my manga and my other stories became a higher priority.

I still love this story, always will, but my output on chapters will probably be pretty minimal until I get more inspiration to write. For those of you who have held on this long, thank you. I probably don't mention enough how much I appreciate you all, I really really do.

On a side note, I discovered AO3 and have recently been exclusively posting my new stories to there, under the same username. Check it out. (Or don't, I can't be bothered half the time ;) )