"Yeah, I mean, right," a nervous laugh as he nod his head. Grabbed up a plank. Stuffed it. Then the next one. Saw the hands that helped him. Stilled his own. "I, uh, I am trying," the words squeezed out of him. Like they were hard truths to let go of. He looked up to see the man and his coat.

Heard the soft tink and tingle of a music box.

"What's that tune?" he asked the man with too many pockets.

Never did mind the rain much.
 
“That’s just the wind playing tricks.” Tugged at the soaked robe. “Here one minute, gone the next.” Even as he said it, the sound was already gone. Wind was funny like that.

“You know this pillow business isn’t good for anyone, right?”

Stood up, wood clutched awkwardly.

“Right, was it Vyn’s Wagon that was hit?” Already moving in that direction.
 
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Eyes aglow with the storm's light saw where he had tugged at the coat.

Ears used to finding music and rhythm, timing, heard how it died with nothing more than a touch.

"Pillow business?" pillow business. That thing he had seen between the carts. Too many teeth. Same as the thing that had come out for Vyn? Weirdest fucking pillows he had ever seen.

Still. Amidst all the pitter patter. Roki got up, because following was easy. Made people feel easier too. If you followed after them. Tail of his liripipe bouncing with his steps, even as it soaked heavy with the rain.

"The lightning?" he asked. "Yeah," he said. Gulped. Remembering the smile he had seen there in the flash. In the white. That smile, all wrong. "Hey, how do you know my name, anyhow?" he hurry stepped up to big coat's side. "Got a name of your own, Coat Fella?"
 
The youth followed behind him. The scent of leftover shroud was still heavy in the air. Not all of it was Vyn’s. That he didn’t recognize the other fragrance all but confirmed it. He’d setup runes for such a thing not to happen. The pact denied it. No, storms didn’t choose targets. But people did.

“Everyone knows your name.” Looked like he was about to tap the boy on the back, but that would only scatter the wood again. “They call me Jem.”

There was no need to rush. Vyn was unharmed.

“Don’t let the roof get you down.” Took the boy’s measure. “Vyn’s forgiving.”

It wasn’t an affliction Jem shared.
 
A shift of the bundle under his arms. The wagon wasn't far ahead. But... Jem slowed down. A blink blink. Roki slowed down with him. Looked him over, all coat dripping and heavy.

"Everyone," he let that sink in. Suppose he was born in these wagons. He had spent such a time away, he hardly recalled the time. Still remembered frog catching with Gruki and Pa. Still remembered telling stories around the big fires. Loved that. Much as he loved the rattle of their wagon when the rain wasn't so hard.

Kind of how the rain was now. Fat, but warm. Felt good when it splashed against the skin.

"She seems the sort," he said lightly. Looked him over the bit more. Then eyed up on teh wagon. "You know Vyn," he put that brik onto the others. "And the Pillow Business..." he quirked a brow. Tusks heavy against his lip. "You know then?" the full truth, best not put to the air.

And maybe he was already too close to it. But damn if he wasn't going to try and help.

She had asked him to, hadn't she?
 
Rain came soft first. But it kept coming. And after a while, it was hard to feel. Enough hits became a blanket, and once snug enough, that too was just pressure. Ground never complained – used to taking it. No choice. Same as anyone chained to it. Moved slower now, everything did. Even the wood between fingers was getting ideas – slick and tricksy.

“Yes.” Never broke stride. “And I’m still asking you to stop. Some things are forgotten for a reason.” Maybe more should’ve been said – but he wasn’t all that clever with teenagers. Normally, he’d let Vyn handle that. Suppose that was out of the question now.

Wondered how many more he’d need to commit beyond memory before it stabilized. Vyn needed to stay safe.
 
Flat and hard and never stopping.

Forgotten for a reason. But Vyn. She didn't want to forget? Wanted to know. Wanted help. Didn't see the Pillow Ghosts.

And here was Jem. Big coat full of who knows what. Some music. Roki had heard that much. Music he wanted to hide.

It all wrote its way across Roki's face. Scrunched up brows. Lips screwed tight between the tusks. He was a horrible liar. Least in times like these. Boots all set to squish against earth laden with rain.

Distant fork of searing white. Green afterglow. Rumble across the sky loud in the ears.

"You are hiding it from her?" he said. Unable to understand the why. Planks rattling in his arms.
 
Hiding? No Jem wasn’t hiding anything. He merely maintained the order they’d all agreed to. Before they forgot. But someone always had to remember else there was nothing to forget in the first place. Pact had specific conditions. They had to be met and maintained.

“You’re… young, Roki.” Kids were difficult. So many words, too many wants. “We’re just trying to keep everyone safe.” Guess it was lucky the kid wasn’t really one of them. Made this whole conversation possible.

Then again, if he had been one of them – they never would’ve had the problem in the first place.
 
A roil in his gut.

Young?

He couldn't keep the growl from his throat. "I'm not that young," the words had hissed out of him.

Felt the friction come off of him. Like hot wall of air come scrape against cold form of rain cloud. Churned and twist.

He shook his head. Let him keep his secrets then. Or try. "Safe from what?" the question came harder. Surer. Hesitation whipping off his tongue like water come dry neath the sun.

The crooked wagon loomed ahead. Roki stood stone still in the pour of rain.

"The thing with too many teeth?" he pushed. Eyes hard, brow furrowed. "The thing with eyes bent wrong and limbs too long?!" clutched at the wood there beneath his arms. "Vyn?!"

Thunder clapped overhead.
 
He offered his most patient face to the boy. Luckily, Jem had plenty of those left. It was the curse of children to believe themselves adult. And maybe Roki really was more mature than most – but Jem didn’t see him that way. It took more than a big head to be truly grown.

“Right now, my boy… from you.” Looked at the clouds, growing restless, like he ork beside him.

One bolt could be attributed to an accident, or poor judgement. Perhaps Vyn had pushed him too far – she was known for such things. But if another strike came… Jem wouldn’t be able to call it anything short of what it was.

Because accident and intention might be cousins, but far removed.
 
That bit crushed him some. "What?"

He shook his head as the rain went on pouring.

"Me?" His eyes spiraled about. Set on the wagon. The hole. Flit back to Jem. Tusks flared with frown and curl of brow. A click of teeth. A huff and a step through the mud.

Jem hadn't denied it. Any of it. Just added his name to the list.

Roki grinned at that. Hopped up on to the roof. Sure footed and strong fingered. Fingers and toes the sort that made habit of finding holds. A leg swing up to get heel over ledge of roof. Wrenching. Up he went. Siddled closer to the hole.

"HAMMER AND NAILS JEMS!" he called out over the rain.
 
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Well, at least he didn’t get struck down for the honesty. They had plenty of clouds, but Jem was still working out the silver lining.

The boy’s aggravation seemed to spill over into work – and that was relatable. Without argument, he passed Roki hammer and nails.

Hopefully the attitude would abate with the weather.

Inside, Vyn had moved everything from the floor that now held a healthy layer of puddle on top of it. A better prepared person would’ve probably just opened the door and had the excessed flow out… but who prepared to have their house struck by lightning?

Muffled conversation inside was followed by the mightiest of breadburps.

“Frank!”
“What? Wasn’t even my best one.”
“No no… teach me.” Laugh jiggled both skin and dough.
 
Laid the board flat, set the nail down, and damned the rain for having the rusted old thing slip. Wobble. Pinched it tighter. Hammered it down. True on the first. Second. Third.

"Owe, fucking, gashing, Ghanga's ASS!"

Lightning split across the clouds over head. Flashed the camp wipe. But its tails and legs crawled and wagged across the darkness overhead.

Roki fanned his fingers. Stuck his thumb betwixt his teeth and sucked on the hurt some. Shook his head. Grabbed the nail. Hammered home.

Plank after plank. Only busted his knuckle with the hammer once more before the job was done, and he hopped off the roof of the wagon all splat and squat stomp. Half a frog himself in the warm cold. Looked up at Jem and his coat from the low mud. All glare and suspicion still writ about his face, there in the hole of his Lirripipe.

Eyes aglow with a stormlight his mind was not awake to, hammer in one hand, planks in the other.

He got up. Belted the hammer.

Opened the door to the wagon to have the water all slosh over his feet.

"Holes fixed!" he said, eyes low to the flow of water.

Smell of yeast and stomach acid mixed with the stormwater and wet wood.

BURRRRP.

His eyes snapped up. Scowl and frown all but erased. Turned to curious pouty point of lips, and wide curious eyes. He set the spare planks by the door outside, stepped in. "Whatcha guys doin?" he asked as he pulled off the soaked wool of his hood. Pointy ears sprung out.
 
You would’ve thought Vyn would jump at the sight of someone blocking her newest skylight… well, skydrain at the moment – but no, the day had already stretched her too thin. And what was a sound of hammer compared to a bolt of lightning?

Door opened, and the water fled away from her feet. But water was known to be like that, so Vyn didn’t fault it. Roki played the take of light today – first on the roof, and then again by blocking the entrance. Thought she could see Jem behind the boy for a moment, but then she blinked and he was no longer there.

Didn’t matter. She’d have to find the man eventually. Wasn’t a conversation she looked forward to.

“Frank is teaching me Yeastspeak. Has a…” Frank burped in greeting as she showed him how to sign it in Elum. Would’ve probably been more useful if Frank had hands – but, you know, at least they were communicating. “…Surprising amount of burping.”

“You’re soaked. Want something… less soggy?” Looked around her damp living quarters – they weren’t exactly spoiled for choice.
 
A blink from Roki. "Yeastspeak?" his eyes looked to the bowl in which Frank rest. Unrested? His brain was still trying to figure that part out.

Something... less soggy?

A shake in the negative. "Just, well, just wanted to apologize," he said softer, head bowed. "On account of the roof and, all, and," he looked to the pool of water on the ground. "The mess,"

Shook his head. "I can," he could do a lot of things. Put a hole through the roof being one of them. He deflated, remembering the cold look in Jem's eyes.

What was he supposed to say? Do?

Was he the one who was wrong in all this? A fiend had come sprawling out of thin air. Near as big as the wagon. Twisted and pale and... mimicking. Their voices.

But he was the danger now.

His lips moved, as if trying to taste the words on the musty air. But they all came up tasting like shit in his mouth.

"Whatever you think is fair, Vyn," he said, dragging his eyes back up to meet hers. "I am sorry,"
 
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