The morning mist still clung to the grass in silver threads, and every blade glittered beneath the pale light like a field of tiny mirrors. Dew soaked the hems of Khalima’s emerald robes as she wandered barefoot across the lawn, carrying a woven basket over one arm. Herbs gathered before sunrise were said to hold stronger virtues. Whether that was truth or simply an old superstition depended on whom one asked.
Khalima had never cared much for the difference.
A tiny explosion crackled behind her.
Pop!
Golden sparks burst into the air like a handful of celebratory fireworks before disappearing into harmless smoke.
She sighed without turning. “I wondered when this one would begin.” Behind her came delighted giggling.
Azazel had discovered that dry seed pods made wonderful targets.
She scampered across the grass on all fours with surprising speed, little white paws thumping through the clover while her fluffy tail wagged furiously behind her. Every few bounds another cluster of bright orange sparks leapt from her fingertips.
Pop! Pop! Fizz! The seed pod exploded into fluff and Azazel clapped both hands together.
“’Gain!”
“No.” Khalima’s tone was general and slightly jagged as always.
Another spark fizzled to life.
“But…”
“No.”
She simply repeated to Azazel. Khalima crouched beside a patch of blue flowering herbs, carefully clipping only the oldest blossoms. Without looking, she reached behind herself.
Tiny white fingers carrying another spark were caught gently in her spotted hand.
Azazel blinked Her wide eyes “…How?” She wondered aloud.
Khalima’s long tail swayed off to one side, rustling the grass around her frame.
“I have watched childreennn longer than most mountains have watched rivers.” She again spoke in her riddles.
The little girl tilted her head.
“…No look.”
“I did.”
“You look flow’rs.”
“They told me.”
Azazel frowned suspiciously at the flowers.
On all fours because it was easier Azazel moved to the flowers, and pressed her little nose against one blossom.
“…Talk?” The flower, naturally, remained silent.
Khalima hid a smile as eventually Azazel huffed, looking to Khalima with an indignant frown.
“Mean.”
“They are.”
Satisfied with that answer, Azazel bounded away again.
She chased butterflies with determined little growls, pounced upon drifting leaves despite there being almost no wind, barked indignantly at a particularly offensive dandelion, and finally attempted to stalk a grasshopper with all the exaggerated seriousness of a creature convinced she was the fiercest hunter alive! Buuut The grasshopper escaped, Azazel flopped dramatically into the grass.
“Cheat!”
“It flew away.”
“…Cheat.”
Khalima stood and brushed the soil from her hands, the basket of herbs still hung from her bent elbow. Her green orbs set on let in the grass and she decided to divert this moment into something constructive. “I believe practice comes first today.”
Azazel froze, her little nose twitching slightly.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Nooooo!”
“Azazel.”
The little hellhound flattened herself against the earth as best as she could, trying to divert from practice time.
“I Gwass.”
“No.”
“No see me.”
“Yes I can.”
She squeezed her little eyes shut and stilled her fluffy bushy tail, drawing her body completely still.
“…I Seep.”
“You are speaking, not sleeping.”
“…Seep loud.”
Khalima folded her arms under her chest and one ear turned backwards, the mark of a displeased mother.
Her tone grew slightly flat but still patient as she spoke again to Azazel
“This one cannot practice on four paws forever.”
Azazel looked down at her hands, then a little more upside down at her hind feet that were in fact paws.
“Paws fast.”
“They are.”
“Feet slow.”
“They are.”
She looked up hopefully to Khalima, maybe her next attempt would be swaying to Khalima and she won’t make her practice walking.
“Bad?”
“They are often inconvenient.”
Azazel pointed triumphantly, “See!”
Khalima just smiled and shook her head, the little scamp was cute but she needed to learn to walk upright better, their world was built for upright walkers for the most part and would give her access to things later.
“And still.”
The little girl’s ears drooped, a pout came across her cute little fuzzy face, “…Aw…”
Khalima extended one hand, her eyes and face unwavered as the smile faded into her usual hard to read expression.
“Stand.”
Azazel sighed with all the tremendous exhaustion only a tiny child could muster and she pushed herself upright.
Immediately she wobbled, Her knees shook.
Her fluffy tail stretched straight behind her to help her balance.
One careful step, then another. A third— Her knees folded.
She landed face-first in the grass with a muffled thump.
“…Ow.”
Khalima waited, a stillness to her figure, the faint breeze moving her sheer robes. Azazel remained there dramatically, little tail twitching.
“…I Dead.”
“No.”
“…Ghost.”
“No.”
She held up one paw pitifully.
“…Legs gone.”
“They remain attached.”
Azazel rolled over with a groan that sounded far too theatrical for someone so small. “…Mean legs.”
Khalima set the basket down a moment, and while she was stooped, she reached down and gently lifted Azazel back onto her feet. “This one cannot do it that way.”
“I walk.”
“You lunged.”
“Amost walk.”
“You nearly surrendered to gravity.”
Azazel frowned at the ground, her little ears swiveled backward then forwards again, “…No like gravity.”
Khalima smirked slightly, a gleam of amusement in her piercing green eyes, “Few do.”
Again they tried, Again Azazel wobbled, Again she toppled sideways.
Again.
And again.
Each time Khalima neither praised too eagerly nor scolded.
Only corrected, with that patient and quiet demeanor she has at times. “This one places the feet beneath the shoulders.”
She instructed, “No leaning. The tail balances. Look ahead.”
Khalima watches Azazel adjust, tho she is working on clearer speech, she understand Khalima thru empathy half the time, feeling what Khalima wants rather than the sheer words.
“Again.”
The repetition might have driven another child to tears, Azazel instead became stubborn. Her little ears flattened and the tip of her tongue poked from her mouth in fierce concentration and she marched.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Four.
She tipped sideways into the grass with a surprised squeak but then she blinked looking back and Counted the tiny footprints.
Her purple eyes became enormous.“Did it!”
“You did.”
“I walk!”
“You did.”
She bounced excitedly in place, the grass fussing around her little happy movements “I do! I do!”
“You certainly did.”
Azazel threw both hands into the air in triumph as excitement overtook reason and caution.
Tiny orange sparks began dancing between every finger and swerving between her horns, Khalima noticed immediately.
“Easy.”
Too late.
Fireworks burst from Azazel’s fingertips, Golden embers scattered through the clover that had dried with the sunrise.
Three little patches began to smoke around Azazel, a testament to why Khalima always reminded her not to explode with fire and fireworks.
Azazel stared at the spooking spot nearest to her a moment.
“…Uh-oh.”
Khalima merely sighed.
“I wondered if today would include fire.” She stated with a funny depth in her voice as she flicked two fingers.
Dark shadows flowed over the grass like spilled ink, instead of extinguishing the flames directly, they swallowed the air surrounding them.
Each tiny blaze gasped once, and vanished.
The smoke curled harmlessly away and Azazel watched with wide eyes.
“…Me do?”
“Not for many years.”
“…Why?”
“Because this one would use it to swallow cookies.”
Azazel considered that, a thoughtful look on her little face
“…Maybe.”
Khalima nodded, her expression the same as it was as the looked to Azazel, “My point precisely.”
Azazel shuffled her feet, Little ears drooping and she looked down a bit.“…Sowwy.”
“I know.”
“…Accedent.”
“I know.”
The little girl looked utterly heartbroken at first, tears welled into her purple gaze but Khalima crouched until their eyes met. Her voice may be rougher but there was something calm and warm in it. “Fire is not wicked.” Azazel blinked but kept her gaze locked with Khalima’s.
“…Burn.”
“It does.”
“…Hurt?”
“So do nettles.”
Azazel nodded as her little mind worked, “…Bad.”
“So are medicines.”
Confusion spread across her tiny face, birds raised song in the backdrop as she just struggled to understand, “…But.. Help.”
“They also poison.”
Azazel looked down at her own hands, slowly beginning to understand that things can be good or bad, hurt or help depending on how it’s used. “…Oh.”
“The thing itself is rarely the evil.” Khalima gently wrapped her fingers around one tiny paw. “It is the choice behind it.”
Azazel sat very still, trying hard to understand.
After a long moment she whispered, “…Sparks… no
“No.”
“…Me bad?”
“You became excited.”
“…Forgot.”
“You did.”
“’Member next.”
“You will forget again.”
Azazel’s ears slowly lifted as Khalima stood and took a step or two and picked up her basked, resting it in the bend of her elbow again. Azazel spoke again, her voice was small and crisp “…Will?”
“Certainly.”
She looked worried a little she slowly stood on two feet, “…Mama mad?”
Khalima’s expression softened in a way almost no one else ever witnessed. She turned fluidly about facing Azazel and her scratchy tone took a sound much softer, “No.”
“…No?”
“I will simply remind this one.”
Without another word, Azazel waddled forward and wrapped both little arms around Khalima’s waist, burying her face against the soft green fabric of her robes, it made Khalima smile as she pet the little girls head.
Azazel spoke, not moving her face so it was slightly muffled, “I like ’minders.”
“I know.”
“…Mama smell flow’rs.”
“I know.”
“…An’ mushies.”
“I know.”
“…Dirt.”
“I had also noticed.”
Azazel’s tiny giggle echoed across the quiet Opensignal as yet another time, another moment moved in their lives.
With each passing day, Khalima and Azazel’s bond grows like a slow burning ember in the dark and one day, it will be a bonfire with no end
.Khalima had never cared much for the difference.
A tiny explosion crackled behind her.
Pop!
Golden sparks burst into the air like a handful of celebratory fireworks before disappearing into harmless smoke.
She sighed without turning. “I wondered when this one would begin.” Behind her came delighted giggling.
Azazel had discovered that dry seed pods made wonderful targets.
She scampered across the grass on all fours with surprising speed, little white paws thumping through the clover while her fluffy tail wagged furiously behind her. Every few bounds another cluster of bright orange sparks leapt from her fingertips.
Pop! Pop! Fizz! The seed pod exploded into fluff and Azazel clapped both hands together.
“’Gain!”
“No.” Khalima’s tone was general and slightly jagged as always.
Another spark fizzled to life.
“But…”
“No.”
She simply repeated to Azazel. Khalima crouched beside a patch of blue flowering herbs, carefully clipping only the oldest blossoms. Without looking, she reached behind herself.
Tiny white fingers carrying another spark were caught gently in her spotted hand.
Azazel blinked Her wide eyes “…How?” She wondered aloud.
Khalima’s long tail swayed off to one side, rustling the grass around her frame.
“I have watched childreennn longer than most mountains have watched rivers.” She again spoke in her riddles.
The little girl tilted her head.
“…No look.”
“I did.”
“You look flow’rs.”
“They told me.”
Azazel frowned suspiciously at the flowers.
On all fours because it was easier Azazel moved to the flowers, and pressed her little nose against one blossom.
“…Talk?” The flower, naturally, remained silent.
Khalima hid a smile as eventually Azazel huffed, looking to Khalima with an indignant frown.
“Mean.”
“They are.”
Satisfied with that answer, Azazel bounded away again.
She chased butterflies with determined little growls, pounced upon drifting leaves despite there being almost no wind, barked indignantly at a particularly offensive dandelion, and finally attempted to stalk a grasshopper with all the exaggerated seriousness of a creature convinced she was the fiercest hunter alive! Buuut The grasshopper escaped, Azazel flopped dramatically into the grass.
“Cheat!”
“It flew away.”
“…Cheat.”
Khalima stood and brushed the soil from her hands, the basket of herbs still hung from her bent elbow. Her green orbs set on let in the grass and she decided to divert this moment into something constructive. “I believe practice comes first today.”
Azazel froze, her little nose twitching slightly.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Nooooo!”
“Azazel.”
The little hellhound flattened herself against the earth as best as she could, trying to divert from practice time.
“I Gwass.”
“No.”
“No see me.”
“Yes I can.”
She squeezed her little eyes shut and stilled her fluffy bushy tail, drawing her body completely still.
“…I Seep.”
“You are speaking, not sleeping.”
“…Seep loud.”
Khalima folded her arms under her chest and one ear turned backwards, the mark of a displeased mother.
Her tone grew slightly flat but still patient as she spoke again to Azazel
“This one cannot practice on four paws forever.”
Azazel looked down at her hands, then a little more upside down at her hind feet that were in fact paws.
“Paws fast.”
“They are.”
“Feet slow.”
“They are.”
She looked up hopefully to Khalima, maybe her next attempt would be swaying to Khalima and she won’t make her practice walking.
“Bad?”
“They are often inconvenient.”
Azazel pointed triumphantly, “See!”
Khalima just smiled and shook her head, the little scamp was cute but she needed to learn to walk upright better, their world was built for upright walkers for the most part and would give her access to things later.
“And still.”
The little girl’s ears drooped, a pout came across her cute little fuzzy face, “…Aw…”
Khalima extended one hand, her eyes and face unwavered as the smile faded into her usual hard to read expression.
“Stand.”
Azazel sighed with all the tremendous exhaustion only a tiny child could muster and she pushed herself upright.
Immediately she wobbled, Her knees shook.
Her fluffy tail stretched straight behind her to help her balance.
One careful step, then another. A third— Her knees folded.
She landed face-first in the grass with a muffled thump.
“…Ow.”
Khalima waited, a stillness to her figure, the faint breeze moving her sheer robes. Azazel remained there dramatically, little tail twitching.
“…I Dead.”
“No.”
“…Ghost.”
“No.”
She held up one paw pitifully.
“…Legs gone.”
“They remain attached.”
Azazel rolled over with a groan that sounded far too theatrical for someone so small. “…Mean legs.”
Khalima set the basket down a moment, and while she was stooped, she reached down and gently lifted Azazel back onto her feet. “This one cannot do it that way.”
“I walk.”
“You lunged.”
“Amost walk.”
“You nearly surrendered to gravity.”
Azazel frowned at the ground, her little ears swiveled backward then forwards again, “…No like gravity.”
Khalima smirked slightly, a gleam of amusement in her piercing green eyes, “Few do.”
Again they tried, Again Azazel wobbled, Again she toppled sideways.
Again.
And again.
Each time Khalima neither praised too eagerly nor scolded.
Only corrected, with that patient and quiet demeanor she has at times. “This one places the feet beneath the shoulders.”
She instructed, “No leaning. The tail balances. Look ahead.”
Khalima watches Azazel adjust, tho she is working on clearer speech, she understand Khalima thru empathy half the time, feeling what Khalima wants rather than the sheer words.
“Again.”
The repetition might have driven another child to tears, Azazel instead became stubborn. Her little ears flattened and the tip of her tongue poked from her mouth in fierce concentration and she marched.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Four.
She tipped sideways into the grass with a surprised squeak but then she blinked looking back and Counted the tiny footprints.
Her purple eyes became enormous.“Did it!”
“You did.”
“I walk!”
“You did.”
She bounced excitedly in place, the grass fussing around her little happy movements “I do! I do!”
“You certainly did.”
Azazel threw both hands into the air in triumph as excitement overtook reason and caution.
Tiny orange sparks began dancing between every finger and swerving between her horns, Khalima noticed immediately.
“Easy.”
Too late.
Fireworks burst from Azazel’s fingertips, Golden embers scattered through the clover that had dried with the sunrise.
Three little patches began to smoke around Azazel, a testament to why Khalima always reminded her not to explode with fire and fireworks.
Azazel stared at the spooking spot nearest to her a moment.
“…Uh-oh.”
Khalima merely sighed.
“I wondered if today would include fire.” She stated with a funny depth in her voice as she flicked two fingers.
Dark shadows flowed over the grass like spilled ink, instead of extinguishing the flames directly, they swallowed the air surrounding them.
Each tiny blaze gasped once, and vanished.
The smoke curled harmlessly away and Azazel watched with wide eyes.
“…Me do?”
“Not for many years.”
“…Why?”
“Because this one would use it to swallow cookies.”
Azazel considered that, a thoughtful look on her little face
“…Maybe.”
Khalima nodded, her expression the same as it was as the looked to Azazel, “My point precisely.”
Azazel shuffled her feet, Little ears drooping and she looked down a bit.“…Sowwy.”
“I know.”
“…Accedent.”
“I know.”
The little girl looked utterly heartbroken at first, tears welled into her purple gaze but Khalima crouched until their eyes met. Her voice may be rougher but there was something calm and warm in it. “Fire is not wicked.” Azazel blinked but kept her gaze locked with Khalima’s.
“…Burn.”
“It does.”
“…Hurt?”
“So do nettles.”
Azazel nodded as her little mind worked, “…Bad.”
“So are medicines.”
Confusion spread across her tiny face, birds raised song in the backdrop as she just struggled to understand, “…But.. Help.”
“They also poison.”
Azazel looked down at her own hands, slowly beginning to understand that things can be good or bad, hurt or help depending on how it’s used. “…Oh.”
“The thing itself is rarely the evil.” Khalima gently wrapped her fingers around one tiny paw. “It is the choice behind it.”
Azazel sat very still, trying hard to understand.
After a long moment she whispered, “…Sparks… no
“No.”
“…Me bad?”
“You became excited.”
“…Forgot.”
“You did.”
“’Member next.”
“You will forget again.”
Azazel’s ears slowly lifted as Khalima stood and took a step or two and picked up her basked, resting it in the bend of her elbow again. Azazel spoke again, her voice was small and crisp “…Will?”
“Certainly.”
She looked worried a little she slowly stood on two feet, “…Mama mad?”
Khalima’s expression softened in a way almost no one else ever witnessed. She turned fluidly about facing Azazel and her scratchy tone took a sound much softer, “No.”
“…No?”
“I will simply remind this one.”
Without another word, Azazel waddled forward and wrapped both little arms around Khalima’s waist, burying her face against the soft green fabric of her robes, it made Khalima smile as she pet the little girls head.
Azazel spoke, not moving her face so it was slightly muffled, “I like ’minders.”
“I know.”
“…Mama smell flow’rs.”
“I know.”
“…An’ mushies.”
“I know.”
“…Dirt.”
“I had also noticed.”
Azazel’s tiny giggle echoed across the quiet Opensignal as yet another time, another moment moved in their lives.
With each passing day, Khalima and Azazel’s bond grows like a slow burning ember in the dark and one day, it will be a bonfire with no end
(WC 1,633)
