FicWad

It was winter, she decided, glancing out the window of their house.

She was gathering things in her coffin-shaped bag, preparing for a day out even if no one else realized it. She knew it was winter now, the seasons changing from crisp Fall to hazy Winter. She would take her Da and go out, away from the house for as long as they could. Grabbing everything she needed, she ran down the hall and into her father's room, tapping a tune on the wooden door of her fahter's room.

The door opened a heartbeat later. "Aye?"

"Good morning, Da."

"Top o'," Farfarello muttered, mouth tugging up in a half-smile. "What can I do fer ye?"

Cailin toed the ground and peered up through the fall of her hair. "Can we go out today? I think we should. It's..." she stopped before she said Christmas. "Winter," she finished.

He didn't ask for another reason or bother to ask anyone if they had any other plans for the day. Simply disappeared into his room and reappeared a minute later with his coat on. He gestured for her to walk in front of him. "After ye, princess."

She giggled and sashayed once, then walked towards the front door, wondering if she should warn her cousins about what the day would likely hold for them.

Of course, there was no fun in /that/.


The sky was cold grey when they left, littered with dollops of mist-like clouds. She thought it was quite lovely as she walked down their front walkway, bundled up in crimson velvet trimmed with white. It was an early gift from her Uncle Schuldig and Uncle Brad, the outfit she had been eyeing for weeks but her Da would never buy her. He didn't like the white lace of her jacket or the white ruffles of her skirt.

"White is no' good enough for ye, sweetin. It's an absence of color, ye see, and ye deserve everything," he explained every time she reached for a white dress or pale hat. She wondered if that meant her skin wasn't good enough either, as it was, but her Da would never take that away from her.

She would never be afraid of him.

Instead she slowed in her walk, waiting for her father to catch up and hooked an arm through his. "Da, can we go shopping today?"

"If ye like." Farfarello looked very much like he would rather not but Cailin felt that words were enough in this.

"Can we visit the park?"

"I s'pose..."

"And ice-skating! Da, I've never been ice-skating," she exclaimed, the idea suddenly becoming horrifying to her.

The Irishman looked slightly pained. "O' course."

Cailin smiled up at him, snuggled closer into her jacket, and pulled him along. Out and down the street, where they could catch a bus-escape the cold and glide faster than their legs could take them. They were silent as they waited, standing apart from the other group of people that stood hunched up, because just as words were important, silence could be as well. All of them had learned that over the years and learned it quickly. Different people of different types, living together in a house where everything could snap apart and burn so easily, burn it all away until there was nothing left, you learned when to speak and when to simply watch. When to wait, patiently, like holding your breath.

When to be ready to laugh out loud and make the silence go away.

The sky looked like it was churning, in and over itself, and Cailin thought it was beautiful as they rode along, her hand pressed against cool glass. "Do you think it will snow?" she asked, and her breath left a cloud of its own on the window.

She almost drew on it, like Brett did sometimes. Like she remembered Alex doing.

"If ye want it to, it will. I don't think the Great Liar would dare deny ye it. He knows His Lambs will fall if He does." Farfarello's voice was a low growl, low enough that no one else heard, and his finger traced along the sleeve of his own jacket.

Cailin's trained eyes picked up the outline of a knife and she felt safe.

They stepped into the winter air again when they reached the shopping district, immediately assaulted by people talking, flashing lights, and signs that seemed to take up too much space in the world. A baby was crying somewhere, someone was laughing loudly, and hundreds of people talked to their cell phones rather than the person next to them.

Farfarello was watching them with his one good eye, split them into manageable and easily dealt with groups should the need arise-lambs, lambs, waiting for the Just would-when he felt a tug on his sleeve.

Mirror-image eyes blinked up at him. "I want snow cones."

"Snow cones?"

"It isn't snowing yet and I'd like some, please. You told me never to eat real snow." She pouted slightly, hands clasped neatly over the front of her skirt.

"But Cailin, it's cold." He may not feel the low temperatures, but she did.

Fully pouting now. "It's good though. And the shop is right over there. Please?"

Farfarello sighed. "Ye've always been slightly daft. Alrigh'." Digging through his pockets, he found the money he'd borrowed from Nagi's wallet and handed it to her. "I'll watch from here. Only buy one, aye?"

Cailin nodded and skipped off, and Farfarello heard the door's bells clatter as she entered the shop. He stood and waited and watched, hands stuffed into his pockets, as herds of people broke upon his presence and filed around him.


When she returned she was carrying a cup of hot chocolate instead, hands gripping the Styrofoam tightly. She was biting her lower lip as she wandered towards him, not paying attention to anyone else, but smiled when he put a hand on her shoulder.

"Wha' ever happened, Cailin?"

"There were girls from my class and they were so awful/. They didn't like my dress, you see, but that was okay because I didn't like theirs' either. But they laughed at me, I think, when I mentioned how horrible white could be. And they asked why I'd want a snow cone /now when it's so cold and I said because it was winter and no real snow. They don't understand, I don't think." She stopped and sipped her drink slowly, flinching when it burned her tongue and continuing on gamely. "I don't like it being so hot."

Farfarello growled and ran a hand over the sleeve of his own jacket. "I'll-"

"No, Da, don't!" Cailin looked up, eyes wide. "It's okay. We're different, you see, and I know. Now. And I don't want you to get into trouble with Uncle Brad. He gets grumpy and then makes Uncle Schu twitchy. Can't we just wait for it to snow?"

The Irishman grit his teeth and then bit his tongue, tasting copper for a few seconds. He itched to do /something/, to sink deadly steel into flesh and paint on walls in red scrawling letters.

But instead he sat on what was probably a cold wall with his daughter, watching people watch them as they passed, heard her sipping her drink delicately and clenched his hands into fists.

Then a box was under his nose.

He blinked. "This is...?"

Cailin giggled. "I took it from the house before we left. It's tinsel! I know you like it." She smiled and waved the box as if to bring his attention to it. "I have three boxes of it," she tempted.

He took the tinsel and sat back slightly, glad to have something to do, and munched on the possibly hazardous material that was supposed to adorn their Christmas tree. "Wonderful," he said and meant it.

She smiled back, just as the first dusting of snowflakes began to cling to her auburn hair, perching on long eyelashes. Then she laughed and looked up, powdered sugar falling from the sky. "I knew it would snow!"

Farfarello thought it was beautiful.