Innocence and Avarice [closed]

[Zhavi]

The way Zhi lifted her head and cast her eyes down at the page was awkward at best. Her hands fluttered from knees to floor to tucked under her armpits. She avoided looking at Styrm entirely. "Umm. . .mhmm," she said, tone vague with just the tiniest hint of uncertainty.

[Goodfellow]

Wha's this now? Styrm thought to himself as he watched Joz...prevaricate?

 

"'Ey now, no need fer shame er nothin'.  Know a few miqo names, I do, an' howe'er breathy, wheezy, er buzzy it be," he said, thinking of all the Hs and Zs and Xs in the Keeper names he knew, "we'll spell 'er out t'gether, ye an' I.  'Ells, could be worse," he said with a pause, "ye coulda been born a roegadyn." 

 

At the last, he winked.

[Zhavi]

A small smile was her answer to his joke, though no laughter was forthcoming. "Are roegadyn names so hard t'spell, then?"

[Goodfellow]

Styrm huffed in response and said, "Aye, if yer doin' it right."  He let out a chuckle or two at his own joke before again addressing Joz.

 

"But ye'll not throw me that easy, ye won't.  Le's 'ave yer name, then.  Jozzie who?"

[Zhavi]

Zhi shrugged one shoulder, untucking her hands from her armpits to pick at her nails. She looked down at them, hair flopping loose over her face. "Gutterborn."

 

It was a common name for streetrats and the like.

[Goodfellow]

"Aw shite," he groaned, "that is a shite name, that'un."  He reached down and flipped open the book on her lap.  "So ye pick yerself a new name, a good'un, an' we learn how t'write it, ye an' I."  An' won't that surprise Taru when 'e gets back.  Big drunk me, teachin' letters an' givin' out names.  Styrm smirked to himself.

[Zhavi]

Zhi looked up from her fingers. Pick a new one? She made a face. "What's that got t'do wi'learnin' me letters, then?" What would she even choose for a name? What even made a name? Most were just meaningless sounds to her. "How'm I supposed t'jes pick out a new name? Wastin' me time! Jes teach me how t'spell Joz." She sounded cross, but her shoulders were curved inward, her hands held close to her stomach. Defensive.

[Goodfellow]

"Aye, a'right then.  Jus' as ye like.  Joz'll be simpler, anyhow.  Jus' three letters, should be," he added as he turned to the page with the letter J.  Indicating it with his finger, he asked, "D'ye know this'un?"

[Zhavi]

Zhi shook her head and bit her lip. There was a struggle present on her face: pride in her defensiveness.

[Goodfellow]

"Well, she's J, she's the one what makes 'at juh sound firs' part o' yer name, juh-juh-Jozzie."  He traced the lines of the J, the hook and the bar.

 

"An' what comes next?  Ye've got yer J fer juh; 'en what?" he asked.

[Zhavi]

((self reference, letters zhi knows: a,z,m,t,u,n,e,h,r))

 

Zhi watched the movement, leaning in closer to get a good look. Determination was there, too. She mouthed the name 'Joz.' "Th' 'ah' sound. 'Sit 'a'?"

[Goodfellow]

Styrm put two fingers to his forehead and thought hard.  He could read, but he didn't have nearly the internal catalogue of words that Taru did.  Sure enough, ah was the next sound, but was it A or O?  He'd never seen the name Joz written, so he wasn't entirely sure.  He traced out the letters on the floor in front of him, brow furrowed; J-A-Z.  Nah, he shook his head, 'at don' look right.

 

He looked up at Joz and shook his head.  "Yer close, but I think i's this'un," he said as he flipped to the O.  He traced the slightly oblong curves of the letter as he spoke.

 

"O," he said, "like the shape yer lips make when ye say 'er."

[Zhavi]

"'O'" Zhi repeated. "Like a box-o'-rocks." She did smile then, pleased with herself. She, at least, understood that different letters had different sounds. Someone, long ago, had said as much to her, and she'd figured it out from listening and observing, anyways. So she didn't bring up how strange it seemed that an 'oh' sound could also be an 'ah' sound, but she still thought it. It was what it was.

[Goodfellow]

Styrm barked out a laugh and said, "Aye, jus' so."  And the, "An' the last sound?  'Ow's she go?"

[Zhavi]

The grin was sudden and delighted. "'Z'," she said, her back straightening the slightest bit. She did look up at him, then.

[Goodfellow]

Styrm grinned in return and nodded.  "Aye, Z she is."  Then, his glance darting around the room, "Now where's 'at notebook; we're gonna write 'er out."

[Zhavi]

Zhi scooted the book towards Styrm and crawled over to the pile of blankets. She extracted the notebook and grease pencil. The notebook had seen better days, by that time, and considerable use had worn the grease pencil down. But both were still more or less useable, and Zhi slid back into her spot with one in each hand. She offered them to Styrm, watching him with an uncertain fascination.

[Goodfellow]

Styrm raised his left eyebrow high.  "Wha's 'at fer?  Already know t'write yer name, I do," he said.  "Ye jus' spelled 'er; ye write 'er," he added, gesturing to the letter on the page.

[Zhavi]

Zhi froze for a moment as if caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar, then slowly retracted her tools. She settled the notebook on her lap, opened it to a blank page (fewer and fewer of those) and gave one last look at Styrm before putting pencil to paper. Zhi was dextrous, but the fine movements necessary for letters was still unfamiliar to her. They were shaky, ill-formed things, but still recognizable. Mostly recognizable.

 

She looked up at Styrm. "Like that?"

[Goodfellow]

He looked long and hard at the scratches on the page before him.

 

"Aye, jus' so," he said with a nod and a laugh, slapping Joz (very) lightly on the back.  "'Atta gal, Jozzie!  Jus' so!"

[Zhavi]

Zhi waved his hand away with an expression that was supposed to be dignified annoyance but cracked into a self-pleased smile. "A'right," she said, "a'right. What's this one?" She pointed to a random letter, one whose lines she'd seen before but the name of which she didn't know.

[Goodfellow]

Cute smile.

 

"'At 'un righ' there?" he responded, "'S called L.  Whole heaps'n'loads o' that'un wha's in Taru's name."

[Zhavi]

That had whole heaps of uses she hadn't considered before. Zhi pursed her lips and said "an' how is his name spelled?"

[Goodfellow]

Styrm's reply was a wagging finger.  "Not so fas', Jozzie.  What sort o' teacher'd Styrm be if 'e jus' spelled it all out fer ye?"  He shook his head, "'S only got," he paused and counted on his fingers, "sixteen letters.  The firs'un, L, makes an el sound, an' ye already know O," he pointed to her name written on the page.

 

"So, how's she go then?" he asked with a smirk.

[Zhavi]

Zhi rolled her eyes, loosing a sigh that made an art of exasperation. "L-O. . .L-O," she muttered the letters under her breath as she bent back to the paper. "Taru. Tuh . . .T? Taru. . .A. . .ruh -- R? Right? I'm right, ain't I, an' . . ." Her lips formed an o, and for a moment there was such an expression of delight on her face that it erased a few of the years cynicism and exhaustion had put into her bearing. "U."

 

The delight turned fiendish, and smug. Ever so smug.