NORA

Cel’s anger is the stuff of nightmares. She orders Nora to sit in the corner and do something Nora absolutely hates: read aloud. As Nora struggles through pronouncing Malroix words--why oh why do they have to use so many vowels?--Cel storms from one end of the room to the other. She occasionally spits out a correction when Nora fumbles a word for too long.

When Cel takes to kicking at the door every time she reaches that end of the room, Nora snaps her book closed and puts it aside. Cel turns a glare on her immediately.

“Read it!” she snaps. “You pushed me into a pool!”

Nora winces, but lifts her chin. “And I got you right back out. You were burning her, Cel. You know you can’t use your fire when we’re not home.”

“Well they know now, so I can!”

Nora hops up as she argues, “You didn’t know that then!”

The door to the room flies open. Teacher stands on the threshold, one eyebrow raised. “Why are you yelling?”

Cel huffs as Uncle Arthur appears behind Teacher. She crosses her arms and looks away from both of them, which leaves her glaring daggers at Nora.

“Oh Sweet Vengeful Spirits, this room smells like puke!” Teacher covers his nose as he complains. “What in Styx do you two get into?”

Nora only then recalls that Cel had emptied her stomach beside the pool. She grimaces at the stains on the new dress Uncle Arthur had only recently bought her. Probably wasn’t a good idea to train and get all sweaty in it either.

Of course, Cel has the same problem. Her dark pants are somehow dirtier than Nora’s dress.

“Cel got sick,” Uncle Arthur explains. “I’m guessing she panicked and inhaled water.”

“Cel,” Teacher sighs, “you can’t panic the moment you touch a body of water bigger than a bathtub. You damn well know how to swim!”

Cel’s shoulders hitch a little higher. Her expression twists into something more self-loathing than angry, and Nora can’t stand it. With a growl, she puts herself between Cel and her parents. It’s hard to look them in the eyes, even if she’s doing so on Cel’s behalf.

“Who cares about the pool? You took Lache’s side,” Nora tells Uncle Arthur, whose eyes narrow. “You made Cel apologize. Why’d you do that?”

“She was in the wrong.”

Nora scoffs. “Lache slapped that lizard right out of her hand. It was rude and unnecessary. Lache was wrong first!”

“My daughter,” Uncle Arthur says with more bite than Nora’s expecting, “should be able to handle herself in the face of another nine-year-old without restoring to biting.”

Cel presses her face against Nora’s back and trembles.

Nora balls her hand into a fist. “So teach her! You’re the only one who can! You’re retired but you’re still never home!”

Cel whimpers, her hands curling into the material at Nora’s waist.

For once, Uncle Arthur looks guilty. He turns imploringly to Teacher, who only lifts his eyebrows.

“She’s not wrong, Arthur.”

Uncle Arthur’s expression pinches. He turns a frown on the girls. “Shower, both of you, then meet me in the living room. I need to you tell you some things.”

#

Cleaning up is no short affair. Nora likes lounging in a bath; Cel screeches when Teacher tries to gently urge her into the shower, which of course brings Uncle Arthur to interfere.

Nora watches from the doorway as he shoulders his way into the small bathroom, sweeps the shower curtain aside, and holds his hand under the steaming downpour of water. “Suck it up. It’s just a shower, Cel. It’s harmless.”

Wrapped in a towel, Cel trembles, her lower lip protruding.

Nora’s starting to get mad again by the time Teacher lets out a huff and shoves Uncle Arthur aside to turn off the water.

Tension flees Cel’s shoulders and she retreats to the door beside Nora, nuzzling up under her arm. Though she glares at Uncle Arthur the whole time, Nora pats Cel’s back and makes soothing noises to calm her.

“I think, rather than give Cel a shield, you’ve given her a security blanket,” Teacher tells Uncle Arthur. Uncle Arthur is frowning at them, his eyes narrowed in a way that tells Nora he’s thinking really hard about something. She holds Cel close, daring him to separate them.

Finally, he relents. He holds out his arms to Cel and beckons. “Come here, Cel. You don’t want to shower with water? Fine. I’ll teach you another way to clean yourself.”

Cel sticks to Nora’s side, staring at him almost fearfully.

“Liar,” she says softly, making Nora gasp.

Uncle Arthur flinches. The hurt on his face makes Nora want to clamp a hand over Cel’s mouth, but of course she doesn’t.

“Celosia!” Teacher snaps. “How dare you say that to your father!”

“It’s alright, Fukashi,” Uncle Arthur says, dropping his arms. He sounds wounded. “She’s mad at me. She doesn’t trust me. Perhaps I deserve it.” He ducks his head and approaches them. Nora guides Cel aside so he can pass through the doorway and head to the living room alone. From the bathroom, they can easily see him flop onto the couch to stare at the ceiling.

Nora’s not at all surprised when Cel follows after him, concern wrinkling her brow.

Nora sighs and tiptopes after them. If there’s one thing she knows, it’s that Cel loves Uncle Arthur the most, and nothing makes her more upset than him being upset with her.

Nora doesn’t approach the couch. When Teacher’s hand alights on her shoulder, she lets herself lean back against them.

“You did well,” he whispers to her.

Nora smiles.

By now, Cel has gotten on the couch. She presses herself against Uncle Arthur’s side.

“Sorry, Daddy,” she practically whispers.

He hums and curls an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry too, Little General.”

Sorry. The only people they ever say it to is each other.

Teacher nudges Nora closer to them. She goes to Cel’s side, and he goes to Uncle Arthur’s.

“We barely fit on this thundering couch anymore,” Teacher says as he sits down.

“That won’t be a problem much longer.” Uncle Arthur gets up, then sits on the floor facing them, across the coffee table. Cel giggles as he props his elbows on the table.

“You’re silly,” she tells Uncle Arthur.

“And you’re still in a towel,” he remarks.

She crosses her arms. “So?”

He shakes his head. “Go change. At least wipe yourself down. Nora can help you. Later, I’m going to teach you how to clean yourself with fire.”

Cel’s smile fades. “You weren’t lying.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

She gets up and heads to the bathroom. Nora, tired of having to shuffle from room to room, sighs and rises to follow her.

“We’ll be right back.”