Thwap Talk

Leeli stirred the pot with a smile on her face, but inside she was a confused mix of emotions she didn't completely understand. She was upset at her grandfather for being mean to Peet, annoyed at her Mama for all the secrets she was keeping, worried about Janner's confusion and Tink's thoughtlessness, and not sure what to think about the two girls suddenly dumped into her life along with a boogle of other problems. Having sisters might be nice. More girls than boys. But will they fit with us? Rebekah was her age, and Gracie was Tink's age. We sure don't need another Tink, she mused, but she seems more talkative than impulsive. Glancing over at Gracie, she realized that Gracie wasn't living up to that currently, she seemed quiet and withdrawn. Was something bothering her? She looked over at Rebekah, who she already knew she liked. Rebekah was watching the dinner preparations from a seat on the bunkbed and was trying to get Leeli's whistleharp to make a whistling noise. Leeli grinned. She’d given Rebekah the harp knowing it would be amusing to watch her try. Rebekah seemed stubborn, and Leeli knew she’d stick with it for a while. She wasn't trying to be mean, she just knew that most people couldn't get a squeak out of it due to the complicated way it worked. She didn't remember learning how to do the whistle tongue fold, but she had seen her brothers try and fail to make it, and her grandfather had refused to try it! Mama knew how to make high-pitched noises, and a few scales, but wasn't good at it at all. She had taught Leeli by giving her songs to memorize, and telling her when she was out of tune. Leeli thus knew that Rebekah would probably be trying for quite a while before giving up, as she seemed very persistent, and she was right! Rebekah had her brow furrowed and was deeply concentrating on it, oblivious to the world around her. Then, she got up, walked over to Leeli, and held it out with a questioning look while gesturing for the spoon. Leeli handed her said spoon, and then showed her the complicated shape her tongue made when she played. Rebekah then lifted her lip showing her tongue, and attempted to make the shape. After a few tries, she made it well enough to make a squeak. Leeli smiled even wider as Rebekah's eyes widened at the novel feeling of the air forming a whistle in her mouth, and then narrowed in concentration as she took the whistleharp from Leeli, handing back the spoon, and started squeaking around, trying to figure out what the fingerings were. Tink, who had been slumped in the corner looked up startled and said "Wow! She can make noise on your whistleharp Leeli! She's really squeaky though!" Gracie frowned at that but didn't say anything as she went back to her duty chopping totatoes. Leeli on the other hand scathingly remarked, "At least she can make noise!" and that was the end of it because the soup was ready. Tink was full, but that wouldn't last very long before he felt hungry again. He was a little tired, especially because today had been very confusing, from following Peet to his treehouse that morning to being arrested and having their barn burnt down because the Fangs thought they had jewels or something and then escaping because Peet had knives for fingers and then they were arrested again because Zouzab was a traitor and then escaped again because a girl HIS AGE had a sword and SCARED THE ENTIRE FANG ARMY!!! So yeah, he was a little tired, but he was full, and safe with his family, and sorta having an adventure! He looked around for Gracie, wanting to talk to her about what she had done earlier, but when he found her she was eating her soup, spaced out. Then Janner asked Nia a question: "Where are the jewels of Anniera?" Interested, Tink followed this up with a "Yeah, can we see them?" Nia smirked, leaned forward, and said "Are you sure you haven't already?" Confusion plain on their faces, the three Igiby children leaned forward, eager to learn what their mother meant... ...Nia had a gentle smile on her face, yet tears welled in her eyes as she realized the significance of what she had revealed would have on their life. Sniffing softly, she turned to the children and smiled at the wonder clear in their eyes. "I wish you could have seen it! Anniera was beautiful, especially in the spring. If your uncle isn't too crazy, he will be able to tell you a little about what it was like." Satisfied her children were occupied with their gifts, and had no more questions about their heritage, she glanced over, suddenly remembering that she had two little children to make welcome and to care for. Rebekah was sitting beside Kalmar, looking at the pictures in the dusty sketchbook, eyes soft with wonder at their beauty. She was still clutching Leeli's old whistleharp, and Nia guessed that Leeli would let her keep it as her own. Glancing over at Gracie, Nia quickly dropped the cloth she was holding and quickly strode over to the eleven-year-old. Gracie was huddled in the corner, hugging herself tightly, and was shaking with either fear or adrenaline; probably both considering what had happened that day. Nia cautiously wrapped her arms around her and picked her up, carrying her over to the low bunk bed. She then wrapped her in a blanket and held her tightly, singing along to Leeli's tune, and rocking her gently. Gracie slowly relaxed: breathing slower and muscles releasing, and soon after, her head fell off of Nia's shoulder onto her chest with a small thud. She was fast asleep. Rebekah had had her eyes on Nia from the instant she picked Gracie up, and when Gracie dropped off, she visibly relaxed, obviously glad her sister was asleep. Nia laid Gracie down on a pile of blankets in the corner, and Rebekah stepped over Leeli and Tink and closed her eyes on the floor beside her slumbering sister. Ok... My headcanon is that a whistleharp is extremely hard to play due to the fact that you make the whistle sound with a complex fold of the tongue and that all the notes are out of order... don't ask why. Sorry to everyone who wanted to see Nia tell them their heritage!!! I didn't want to copy it all from the book. Did I show that panic attack well? Chat GPT gave me advice, but I want human advice as well.

CHAPTER SEVEN Artham shivered, though it was not cold. He stared blankly, though he had nothing really to look at. There was just the back of a huge structure. There was just a tunnel system for the sewers from that building. There were  just memories. Tears filled Artham’s eyes. How had he been such a fool? How had he left Esben? In this place? How had he lived with himself? Oh wait. He hadn’t. These past five years had not been living. They had been years of survival. Building his own home multiple times since he burned it down. Hiding away from his own family. Worrying about his….her. Mourning Arundelle (he was glad she was still alive). Mourning Esben, and blaming himself for his death….but his brother hadn’t died, had he? He had lived in a worse situation than the Throne Warden. That was no where near right. “You can’t think like that. The Maker’s Voice told you to come here for a reason. Even suggested Esben might somehow still be alive. Whatever the reason, you need to get in there.” He walked forward slowly, and then crouched down and soldier-crawled through. The tunnel was stuffy and hot. The wings on his back did not help, but covered him like a warm blanket, and he found himself sweating and breathing heavily. How he longed for clear air! After ages and ages of crawling, he made it through. Throg was just as dark as before. It was somewhat cleaner, but the grey corridor was still grey. The grey floor was still grey. The grey ceiling was still grey. The little girl was still little. wait…. Artham dodged back in an alcove as a little girl started walking past him. She had light brown skin, her dark brown hair was tied in a quadrupled braid, her eyes were bright gold, her turquoise wrap hung around her petite frame, and her small feet pattered on the floor. Artham’s nose twisted. Since when did children spend time in Throg? I mean, when Amrah wasn’t using them to her own ends. Artham’s breathing was still a little heavy, so the girl stopped and turned around. She didn’t see Artham, but she did see a feather. “I know you’re there. Don’t worry. Amrah won’t hurt you. Come out.” Artham sucked in a breath. Get close to Amrah, find why he was here. He stepped out, and the girls gasped. Her jaw was open, and her finger pointed. Artham knew she was going to scream. That;s exactly what she did. Artham rushed forward and placed one of his taloned hands over her mouth. She fought back and pushed him off. “You are supposed to be my pet bird! Not a…a bird-man!!” “Look. I know my appearance is shocking, but shouldn’t you be used to that?” “No! I’ve never seen anything like you! Who or what are you anyway?” “My name is Artham. I just have a—something I—look I don’t know why I’m here. Why are you here?” “I live here now. My name is Gayla.” “That name sounds familiar. “Don’t you…belong somewhere else?” Gayla frowned. “Like in Anniera? Hand in hand with that child king? No. Anniera will be destroyed again anyway. Might as well be on the winning side.” “You accept Janner’s sacrifice, but leave it?” “I never asked him to do that! I was reached out to by the Master. An offer I couldn’t refuse.” “So, you’re new destroyer of Anniera, wants an army of children?” Could this be why Artham was here? “No, genius. I’m just a piece of the puzzle. Just like you.” Artham laughed a little. “I’m not gonna help you.” “Maybe not now,” came a soft, yet grating voice. Artham paled. He slowly turned and found himself looking straight at Amrah. A chill coursed up his spine. The madness ebbed at her brain. Her voice grated in his ears. “I’ve missed you. You know, it’s a shame I wasn’t there every time for you. Me and my sister look quite alike don’t we?” “S-s-sister? You mean, there’s two of you?” “Yes. There are. I’m the younger one. You’ll find me to be…oh, what a coincidence. The exact same age as your Arthra,” she said with a smile. Artham suddenly didn’t feel fear…he felt anger. A fatherly tick went off and he took a threatening step forward, talons bared. Amrah took a quick step back. “You want to know where she is. Wish I could tell you. I haven’t seen her in years.” Artham laughed. “As if I’d believe that!” “You should, Artham. She’s telling the truth.” Artham knew that voice. But he couldn’t believe it. He slowly turned, and saw a pretty woman standing before him, with curly red hair, bright green eyes, and a pale, sorrowful expression. Before he could speak, or even react, Amrah clapped her hands twice, and four Wanderers of the Woes appeared out of nowhere and grabbed him. He fought back, trying to slice them with his talons. He only felt himself begin to bleed. They brought him down, and before he knew it, he was knocked unconscious. “Off of him,” the woman said, and she walked closer to him. Amrah sighed. “Good work discovering him Gayla. I wonder what would bring him here. Mother, you should know I am going to have to dispose of him. Throw him in the jail cell with his perfect mate.” The woman took Artham’s unconscious, bleeding head and slightly elevated it and rested it in her lap. “How have things gone so far? How could I not listen to you, my poor brother.” “Take him away,” Amrah said, and the Wanderers did just that. “Mother, do not interfere with our guests.” “She’ll find him. And when she does, you will be in a world of hurt, or my name is not Emerald Wingfeather!” The woman rose to her feet, and she had tears in her eyes. Gayla was watching all of this in silence. “It’s not,” came a man’s voice. “Your name is Fanshawe. It has been since the day we married, my love.” “I know that day, Dralden. The day I burnt all my bridges, with both of my brothers. Amrah, promise me you will not hurt him.” “Of course not mother. The bear might do some damage. He will be very threatened.” “Must you pit brother against brother?” Enjoy!