#APPRENTICESHIP WITH NEKK STARTED...

[flockrest]

     It's here in Uncle Nekk's eyes too. A sadness-sympathy-pity Kido can't seem to escape from no matter where he turns, not even when he's with the other kids, or when he's tucked himself away in his aerie, or when he's here, right now, trying to move on from— from someone who clearly moved on from him a long time ago.

     It shouldn't make him this blisteringly angry. Like there's some sapsucker nipping away at a point in his heart he's just fixed: a split leaking something hot and bubbling and sticky with bitterness.

     The wood clutched between his feathers doesn't even creak, but Kido likes to imagine, for a heartbeat, that it splinters into irreparable pieces.

     "How much," he says, breaths as measured as he's practiced in the dark of an empty aerie, "can I get for this?"

     Just like Auntie Misa when he tried this with her, Uncle Nekk looks away for a moment. "Kido, I don't think—"

     "How much," he grits out, and it's not very polite, it's not very nice, but Kido hasn't felt very polite or very nice for a while.

     Uncle Nekk stops looking away. He's frowning, but in the way all the grown-ups are trying not to when they're with Kido — not-frowning so hard it circles right back to it. He doesn't say anything for a few seconds, just sighs and shakes his head, before he's coming around the checkout desk.

     "I don't think," Uncle Nekk starts, kneeling to level their gazes and place a wing on Kido's shoulder, "you want to do this."

     A really, really scary thought flits through Kido's mind, and he's backing out of that gentle touch with a shriek clogged in his throat.

     Of course. Of course. Kido's the only one who feels how deep this hurt really goes, how bad this fear-anger-grief can get, how much he wants to do this — to get rid of this painful reminder in a way that will at least get him something back from the world-upending loss — and it's Uncle Nekk who knows better. Like how it was Auntie Misa who knew better, and Uncle Gesane who knew better, and probably every other adult in this flock who knows better. Of course.

     "How MUCH," he tries again, voice bolstered by the wave of barely contained resentment washing over him, and it's so, so freeing and so, so terrible.

     "Oh, Kido," Uncle Nekk says — like Auntie Misa and Uncle Gesane and every other adult in this flock — soft and quiet and not at all annoyed.

     It's. It's so much, it's too much, it's what made Kido flee from Auntie Misa in the first place, except he can't even do that here 'cause Uncle Nekk's got both his shoulders now. He can feel the oncoming burn of stupid tears when they're the very last things he needs or wants right now — he's not a hatchling anymore, he's not, but he's done so much stupid crying since— since that he might as well be one again, and the more he lets his tears say the things he won't, the more the grown-ups will treat him like he's incapable of even knowing what he wants, and— and—

     "Can you just—!" Kido stutters, shoving his— the Feathered Spear in his grasp out like he can't stand to hold it any closer, "I don't want this! I don't— I can't have it, I don't wanna have it!"

     The tears fall, as they always do, and Uncle Nekk says nothing. The silence stretches, reaching for the rest of Kido's words, and he's helpless when it plucks them all out between gasps and wheezes, "Please, I just— wan-na stop thi-inking about it and— and rem-remembering and— I don't— I don't! Want it! I don't want it!"

     Somewhere in the middle of Kido making a complete embarrassment of himself, Uncle Nekk takes the spear from him. Somewhere in the middle of Kido crumbling for the last time — the last time, please — Uncle Nekk pulls him into his wings in a maybe-sorta-kinda-hug.

     "Okay," he says, hesitantly, like Tulin does when he doesn't know what else to say. It's funny how his voice wobbles — or it would be, if Kido wasn't so distressed. "How...how about this. How about I hold onto this for you for now, huh? Until you decide you want it back."

     He won't want it back, ever, and he opens his beak to say exactly that — but Uncle Nekk beats him to it.

     "Which can be never! That...works, too."

     Good. Good. Some tiny part of him even thinks, it better.

     In the quiet that follows, the maybe-sorta-kinda-hug dips from bearable to awkward. Kido makes to pull away and Uncle Nekk lets him.

     "Thanks," he murmurs, swiping remnants of his tears away, just downcast now that he's gotten what he's come for. He pulls further, intent on shuffling back to his aerie to get himself together again, but— Uncle Nekk? Doesn't let go of his shoulders?

     "Kido," Uncle Nekk says, and it's like Cree when she's figured something out now. Firm and determined, though for what, he can't tell. "Why don't you stay a while? I could use an extra wing right about now — and, you know, I've missed your little visits."

     He carefully does not reply. He doesn't think anybody's missed him with how he's been, lately.

     "I mean it! Come on, help your Uncle Nekk out? Please?"

     Well...when he's being asked so nicely...how can he say no?