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archester-creations · 2 years

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Season of Feathers - Autumn

It’s a wonderful feeling, flying. Twisting and turning between leaves of ember. Nothing able to touch you anymore. To touch you ever again. Not a day goes by where Cardin doesn’t wish his ma was here to share this with him. That she hadn’t had to give her life to grant him his own. The thought sends him flying high. Soaring over the trees and reaching up to the sun like Icarus. Confident in knowing his wings are stronger than ones of wax. Knowing that they will not fail him nor will they be taken again.

Cardin flew to his small house in the woods; a cabin where he could remove his feathers and bathe. It was the only place he ever dared to. Any other place held the risk of capture. And he would not be held down against his will. Not anymore. Not again. But the sun glittered off dulling red feathers. Feathers that had begun to stick this way and that, atop skin that’d begun to itch. He couldn’t stay in this form forever. None of his people could, according to the stories his ma used to tell him as a child. Their souls came with a cost. One of flesh. A body, grounded without wings. Like a cruel paradox– they couldn’t live in their feathers forever but they could survive indefinitely with just their skin. Take away the freedom and the body rests. He closed his eyes against these thoughts, flying inside.

The cabin was wooden. Small and modest. Cardin made sure to keep it neat. Keep it stocked with cans of food and books. Small things that he could enjoy as a human. Things that made it a place he could willingly sit and stay a while. Except that wasn’t what he found when he flew in.

He flew in and removed his feathers, letting out the same breath of anxiety he always did once they were off and his eyes had remained closed for a few seconds without interruption. When he opened his eyes nothing seemed to be in the same place he’d left it. A book on astronomy sat open on the singular rug he owned. Plates sat in the sink, vaguely dirty with past meals. Briefly he wondered how long someone else had unknowingly occupied his cabin. From the amount of dishes, Cardin would hazard a guess of three days. Three days someone else had lived in his house. Eaten his food. And made an absolute mess of things. All without him knowing. He’d had no way to, he had been far for quite some time. Always pushing himself to the brink of when he next had to remove his feathers. Never pushing too far, though. The thought of being forced to shed them away from this safety made him shudder.

But would it really be safe anymore now that someone else had decided to make their place here? Cardin wasn’t sure. The thought made his skin prickle. So for now, he’d take care of something else. He walked to where he kept his clothes. Thankfully they were still there. From the chest in the corner he pulled out a pair of pants and a flannel that he buttoned quickly. Then he rolled up his sleeves.

He started with the trash. Picking things up before getting the broom to sweep up the wooden floor. There wasn’t actually much. The shock of finding the cabin different from how he’d last left it made it seem worse than it was. It was still pretty bad. Much more of a disaster than he’d ever let it get. Plus, they’d moved some of his furniture. Not a lot. But his chair had been moved closer to the window, the ottoman was flush with the middle of his couch, and there was now a bed in the left corner of the third room that until now had been mostly empty. All that plus the new refrigerator that in his opinion held too little food to really justify its own presence. So he figured his grumbling was justified. Especially since it was his house that some stranger had apparently decided to move themselves into.

When Cardin’d finished he felt surprisingly good, though he also felt more grimey. That could be fixed quickly, though. Much quicker than everything else had. It was also what he'd actually come to do. So he grabbed new clothes, went to the bathroom, and stripped down. The warm water felt nice on his skin. Nicer than he'd ever like to admit. If it'd been a normal day he'd likely even just stay in. Standing under the warm water pounding against his skin and muscles, washing away sweat and sending it down the drain with any lingering aches he felt. But it wasn't a normal day. Before he got too comfortable he remembered the new presence in his cabin. Right. He scrubbed and rinsed and washed his hair before grabbing his towel and drying in the tub. Then he pulled on the sweatpants he’d grabbed.

The next and last thing on his list was to fix his cloak. He sat down on the couch with it in his lap, straightening the feathers and gently removing the ones that were no longer attached. It took longer than he would’ve liked. But it was important in keeping his feathers, and by extension himself, clean and healthy. Also in keeping him in the air. That meant he had to be careful, which meant he had to go slow. This is something else he’d usually be fine taking his time with. The thought of the stranger coming back for their stuff had him working faster. At one point he pulled out a feather too roughly and got the one next to it that was still attached, so a sharp pain sparked in his shoulder when he yanked it out. He was gentler after that.

By the time he’d finished the stranger still hadn’t returned. The sun was just beginning to dip in the sky. Cardin hoped they’d never return. For a minute, he thought they wouldn’t. Then he remembered the new bed. With a frown he undressed and folded his clothes back into the chest.

In the next moment he was gone. Back out the window. And into the open air.

It took him a week and a half to return to the cabin. Cardin hoped in that time the stranger had left. But the cabin was even messier than it was last time. He flew in the window and felt annoyance floating off his skin in waves the second he’d looked around after hanging his cloak. The room looked like the stranger was challenging him.

Cardin grit his teeth in anger. How dare this stranger turn his cabin into such a mess. With a stomp in his step that made him feel like a child even as it made him feel better, he walked to the chest and changed quickly. After he had his clothes on he rolled up the sleeves of his collared shirt. This would take longer than last time. Hopefully the stranger wouldn't interrupt him. Though maybe it wouldn't be bad if they did. That way Cardin could have a talk with them. About the intricacies of living in someone else's house. And of turning its order into such chaos.

Then briefly he glanced back at his cloak, hanging on the rack away from the windows. It'd be best if the stranger didn't return while he was there. Best if they never interacted. Face-to-face, at least. Cardin still had to do something about this. So he opened a drawer before doing anything else and pulled out a pen and an old pad of sticky notes. They were pink flowers. Daisies. Like the ones his ma planted. He shook the thought from his head. ‘Pick up your messes or pack up and leave.’ His writing swirled, letters darker in the beginning than they were at their end. Satisfied with it, he placed the post-it on one of the cabinet doors. The one that held cans– chicken and tomato soups in a neat line. Hopefully the stranger would see it there. On a whim, Cardin opened it. The cans were no longer in a line. They were shoved haphazardly together. Almost like the one who put them there was in a rush. With his eyes closed he sighed through his nose. Then he closed it.

After a few minutes he opened the cabinet again. Took every can out. Placed them back in. Neat and in their lines, labels with like labels, ordered once again. When he closed it the second time, he felt much better. Of course that was when his eyes caught the rest of the room. The ottoman was once again not in the right spot. He moved it back again. Picked up a different book from the floor, one of poems, and placed it back on the shelf. Ran through the books to make sure everything was in alphabetical order. There were a few out of their places and he fixed those as well. Then it was on to the rest of his cabin.

Dishes had been piled up in the sink. Bowls and pots, enough for almost the whole week. A cup or two. Nothing was on the counter, which was a plus. With a sigh he got started on the dishes, leaving them to dry on the rack while he cleaned other things.

Next he swept up his floors and shook out the carpet outside. After that he took his shower. Followed immediately by fixing his cloak. By the time he was done the dishes were dry and he was able to put them away. Feeling satisfied with himself, he brushed imaginary dust off his hands. Everything was finally back to how it should be. He smiled.

Then he threw his cloak back over his shoulders and flew out the window.

A week later the sun shone brightly through leaves of reds and oranges and golds. The colours were nice to fly through. Calming in the crispness of the air. It dispelled his usual disquiet at returning to his human form. It was always difficult to feel anxious in the chill of autumn’s beginning.

The house was empty when he flew in. And it didn't escape his attention that that was no longer a given, like it should be. The first thing he did once he was human again was sigh long and hard. Not really for any big purpose. It just made him feel better. Like all the annoyance seeped out of his body in that one exhale.

Of course, it didn't. But hey. It still made him feel better. And that was the point.

He hung up his cloak before he turned around, taking his time with the action, running his hands down the red feathers and digging briefly into them to pull a few feathers he knew were loose and broken. There were a few others he simply straightened along the way. Once that was done he forced himself to turn. Sadly, he couldn't procrastinate forever. If he did, the other person could return to find him standing naked in the cabin. That was something Cardin wanted to avoid. At all costs. Still, he avoided actually looking around until he'd dressed.

Everything… seemed to be good when he did. The books were in their places (not ordered correctly– but on their shelves, which was a step up from the previous two times), the furniture wasn't in weird places, and there were no dishes scattered about. It gave him cautious hope. There were still cabinets to check and he had to look in the sink. But perhaps the stranger had actually listened fully to the note. He walked into the little kitchen area.

… or perhaps not.

The cabinets were still in order, so that was good. The sink was another story. Dishes were piled up in the basin. It definitely wasn't as bad as it could've been. Especially if he'd been away for longer. But it still wasn't preferable. There were bowls and silverware. One or two plates. He grabbed a sponge and squeezed a dob of dish soap on it, getting it wet with hot water, before he started to fill the basin of dishes. Some water already sat in one of the bottom bowls. Like the stranger had meant to clean them, but just never got to it. Or like they’d rinsed the dishes out to make washing easier for whoever would clean them. That ‘whoever’ being Cardin… He grit his teeth, squeezing the sponge so the soap bubbles ran over his hand like lava. After he took a breath, he wiped off his hand and grabbed a new post-it. This one he placed on the window above the sink.

‘I’m not your maid, don’t treat me like one, clean your own dishes.’

When he returns a week later it's to a ‘Sorry!’ on a sticky note where the original had been in a messy, almost illegible scrawl and clean dishes all where they should be.

Green. One of the bedroom walls was green. A dark green, like a shadowed field in spring. It was a good colour that Cardin actually enjoyed. It wasn't his favourite– that was the red-brown some of the leaves had recently started to turn as they fell– but it was one he liked. Currently Cardin fumed at it.

This was his house. His room, though he never used it and it now contained a bed a semi-stranger used and drawers that were no doubt filled with the stranger’s things. None of that changed that it was his. And that this stranger he talked to occasionally to set rules and corrections through writing painted a wall without even asking.

(Even if they had, it would've been a ‘no’.)

With a last glare at the wall, Cardin went off to grab a sticky note. ‘Don’t paint the walls!’ His scrawl was darker than usual.

‘It’s supposed to be a calming colour. Thought it’d do you good.’ Was the responding message he got, a few short days later when he returned. Cardin growled, eyes drawn back to the wall. To the green wall. None of the others had been touched. No, just this one singular surface– just the leftmost wall in the bedroom he never used that this person slept in. He growled again, though it was closer to a grumble this time.

‘Don’t make stupid decisions. This is my house, you just live here.’ Supposed calming colour or not, Cardin did not appreciate it. This was his house. His cabin that he'd found empty, that he'd filled, that he'd turned into his resting spot. The only place he could go to get clean. To eat human foods and read, though those two things were low on his list. Somewhere along the line this person had forgotten this wasn't their place.

‘Didn't see your name anywhere when I moved in.’ Was the infuriating reply. Of course his name wasn't anywhere. Why would he put his name on his cabin in the middle of the woods. When he'd found the place it was in such disrepair there were plants growing in the living room. (Which took months to fix by himself.) There was no reason to believe anyone else would ever find it. Not when he was apparently the first in decades.

He grumbled as he wrote his reply. ‘All my stuff is there!’

When he returned in a few days, it wasn’t to what he expected. His chest, some of the dishes, the singular rug, and even the ottoman were all in front of the house. Outside. For a minute he couldn’t even do anything but perch on the nearest tree and just stare. It wasn’t all of his stuff. Of course it wasn’t. But…

A portion of his stuff was literally just sat on the grass right outside his house.

Why?

Feeling incredulous in the most ridiculous way, Cardin flew down to the ottoman. There was a note on top of it in the other person’s messy scrawl. Because of course there was. ‘No it isn’t.’ He could practically hear the sarcastic tone in the letters. He’s angry. Really angry. How dare this strange human take his stuff out of his house? Sure it's not all of it. But still, it's the principle of the thing.

He sighed heavily as he flew through the window to remove his feathers and begin the process of moving everything back. He's not as angry as he'd like to be. It's just so stupid. Childish and silly. Like licking a toy because you refused to share. Maybe that's all they've been doing, licking the toy. The thought almost made him laugh despite himself. Almost.

‘You’re lucky none of my stuff got wet.’ That’s the only sentence he puts on the note. For some reason, he can’t get himself angry enough to do much more. There’s something almost… respectable about the prank. Cardin can’t name what it is. Maybe it’s the harmless nature of it.

He’s not sure why he’s so sure it was harmless.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face and through his hair where it caught on a few tangles.

The notes continued for a long time. Some still passive aggressive, but there were plenty that were… Less so. And with the notes, Cardin found himself returning sooner than he ever had.

‘You left your socks out on the couch, who does that?’

‘I guess I took a note from you.’

‘Thanks for actually cleaning the dishes for once.’

‘I couldn't let you have all the fun.’

‘Why didn't 4 ask 5 out? Because he was 2²’

‘That’s terrible.’

‘I've never trusted stairs. They always seem to be up to something.’

‘Booo.’

‘Let’s make a chore list.’

‘Why?’

‘So one person doesn't do everything around the cabin themself. We'll split it equally!’ There was a small smiley face drawn after the words. Cardin had never done something like that before. But of course, he'd never shared his own house before. When he still lived with his ma, they did the house chores together.

‘Alright.’ Eventually this person would move on, anyway. A little help wouldn't be bad until then.

There was even a tic tac toe board once, though Cardin shot that down.

He felt bad for it. Really, he really did. Privacy was something Cardin felt strongly about. It was the thing that ensured he maintained his freedom. But he couldn't ignore the sudden voice in his head that demanded he be absolutely certain that this person didn’t have anything that could hurt him or a plan to permanently ground him. Even with logic. After all there was no way they could know what Cardin was. Still, if Cardin was gonna trust them. Was gonna let them stay here. He had to be sure.

With a breath he went to the other’s desk. And he barely kept himself from checking that he was alone. Which was silly. Because he knew he was alone. He was always alone here, that was the whole point of this cabin. But the guilt creeped up his veins. Making it feel as if the very walls were watching him. A singular green that had never been judgemental before. Cardin scowled at it but he wasn't sure it held much heat. Of course, he felt silly afterward. Scowling at a wall. If he was brought to an action like that, maybe he really shouldn't be doing this. Except…

With all his might he held onto his own inner justifications even as his sense of privacy and whatever odd… respect? fondness? he felt for this stranger tried to talk him out of his search. The need to be sure was louder, anyway. His freedom was important to him and he wouldn't have it snatched away. Especially after what he'd lost just to get it. His hand opened the first drawer.

Clutter. It was the first thing Cardin registered. Whether or not it was organized clutter Cardin honestly couldn't tell. The drawer was like a dip. Layer upon layer upon layer of stuff making up a singular whole. Maybe he should've started with the dresser. He shook himself and started on the first layer.

Despite its appearance, there wasn't really much in there. Pens– a surprising amount of pens–, some necklaces, a bracer, candy, nail polish, what he's pretty sure was a Christmas ornament, bandages– shouldn’t those be in the medical kit he kept in the kitchen?–, a few dried flowers, and the cup he'd noticed went missing weeks ago. He restrained himself from grabbing the cup and closed the drawer. The other drawer and the dresser held pretty much more of the same. Ultimately nothing along with a surprising amount of pens and candy. The search honestly gave him more questions than answers. Which was annoying, since he hadn't had any questions to begin with. But it also hadn't given him any reason to not trust this stranger. Nor reason to suspect them. He sat back on his heels and sighed in relief. That was everything. There really was nothing he had to worry about, past the person suddenly deciding to rearrange his furniture. Somehow it made him feel both better and worse. But he shoved the ‘worse’ down to settle for the better. After all, it wasn't guaranteed that he'd find nothing until he did find nothing. The logic still didn't really make it go away. Finally, he closed his eyes and shook his head. Whether or not the invasion of privacy was bad it needed to be done so he'd done it and that wouldn't change. He picked himself up off the floor and went to get food.

And almost immediately ran into another shot of guilt. There was a sticky note on the counter. It didn't sit flat– they never did. Messy black scrawl covered the daisy. ‘What's your name?’ He frowned. Confused joined with the guilt that he pressed down again.

‘Why would I tell you’

He made stew, left the pot behind to simmer until nightfall when he assumed the person would return, and tried to pretend it wasn't an apology.

There's nothing to apologize for.

He's thanked for the stew on the next return a week later. The coffee table was tacky under the pasted part of the sticky note when he picked it up. ‘It'd be nice to know who I'm living with. Mine’s Jaune.’ With the addition of the thank you, it's almost enough to make him feel bad again. He doesn't let it. (There's nothing to apologize for— While he was away, Cardin had thought about it. Some part of his brain didn't give him the choice to not think about it. Probably for the best. It allowed him to settle with it being a necessary evil. Yes, privacy was incredibly important to him. But so was his own safety and he couldn't interact with the other person living in his house past these notes. Even if he could, it wasn't something he could explain without jeopardizing his safety. Searching through the person’s stuff was all he could do to ensure they didn't know about his feathers.)

‘I didn’t think you were living with me.’ Cardin hesitated for a moment, looking down at his own neat script. Eventually, he briefly put the pen back to the sticky note. Then he threw his feathers back on and left out the window.

‘-Cardin’

‘I like your name. And you're right, it's hard to live with someone you never see.’

For the first time in what felt like a long time, he actually felt anger toward his unwanted housemate. It felt wrong to be angry, in a way. The anger mixed badly with the guilt still in his system. He'd never asked for a roommate. That was the whole point in living in a remote part of the forest. So he would never have to interact with humans again. So he could feel safe to remove his feathers as needed. He huffed an angry breath out his nose. It didn't make him feel better, but he couldn't exactly scream when he knew at least one other person frequented this forest. Besides, he didn't tend to scream. Instead he grabbed the note and crumpled it up in the smallest, messiest ball he could before he shoved it in the trash. Then he did what he had to do and left without leaving a reply.

The flight out of the area around his cabin helped cool his head a little, but the words didn't leave him.

It took a long time for Cardin to come back. He pushed himself closer to the brink than he ever had in a fruitless effort to stay his return. But eventually, as always, he needed to return. There were dead and bent feathers in his wings and he knew when he took them off, his skin would feel grubby with sweat. He needed to clean himself. If he left his wings unchecked for much longer, it would affect his flight. Dangerously so. To the point Cardin would be forced to remove his feathers with no care of where he was. So Cardin gritted his teeth and flew back to his cabin. To his surprise, the window was cracked open.

The inside was even more of a surprise. Everything was clean. Or, as clean as a place that had someone actively living in it could be. There were no dishes in the sink, all the books were on their shelves, the furniture was in order. The books were even in proper order. Cardin could not stop staring as he changed. Then he noticed the sticky note on the windowsill. Somehow he'd missed that when he flew in. Trepidation filled him.

‘I’m sorry, I really didn't mean it like that. I don't mind not seeing you, you're secretive, I get that. We never have to meet, this is more than enough.’ He smiled slightly and reread the last line. We never have to meet, this is more than enough. The anger ebbed out of him completely, replaced by a warm tingle in his extremities. It felt oddly like acceptance. Cardin hadn’t expected acceptance to make him feel warm. With a sigh, he pulled out a sticky note. There was something he had to do in return. Something he should do whether or not Jaune apologized, though Jaune’s apology definitely made it easier for him to do.

‘I should apologize. I looked through your stuff’ He paused and stared for a minute, thinking of and rethinking sentences to write. Before he finally shook his head. It'd become clear to him that this person– that Jaune– didn't want to hurt him. Most likely didn't even know what he was. But that anonymity felt like protection. Protection he was not willing to give up, not yet. (Not ever.) ‘for reasons I can't explain. I'm sorry I broke your privacy. Thank you for being alright with not meeting.’

Somehow he felt lighter than before as he cleaned his wings and himself before he left the cabin again.

‘Don't worry, I grew up with seven siblings. Privacy is basically fake to me anyway.’ Cardin blinked at that. Seven? ‘And yeah. You're like... the ghost that takes care of me. But less spooky because you're not actually a ghost. Right? You're not a ghost, are you? Because if you are I think I might have to move out, no offense.’ That made him bite his lip, until he remembered that no one would hear him anyway, and he laughed.

‘I'm not a ghost.’

The trees were losing their leaves in droves as he flew back to the cabin, this time a much more reasonable five days after his last visit. There was a carpet of dried leaves on the ground. Reds and oranges and yellows and even more browns than there had been just a week ago. The air’s crispness has sharpened. Pretty soon Cardin will have to find a warmer place to roost between visits to the cabin. Somewhere close enough he could visit more frequently, but far enough Jaune will not take notice of him.

Inside the cabin, Cardin removed his feathers and changed before he got right to writing a checklist of what he'd need for the winter and the best places to hunker down. Usually he'd spend more time here, but that was out of the question this year. As well as future years, likely. At least he knew the forest well. That will make it easier.

He was so busy, he almost missed the new sticky note.

‘That's good. I like it here, I'd be sad if I had to move. You're pretty nice.’ Cardin rolled his eyes with a scoff at that last comment.

‘I won't make you move.’ Cardin wrote back, despite knowing that wasn't what Jaune meant.

It surprised him when he realized he meant it. Unless Jaune did something that seriously threatened Cardin’s safety, he would never make Jaune leave. And that seemed against Jaune’s personality. Cardin guessed he was stuck with him.

Somehow that didn't feel terrible.

☼

#rwby #archester #cardin winchester #jaune arc #animal brides #legends au #shifter au #fluff #first meetings #season of feathers #writings

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