Isolation

Lunchtime was when the young witches swarmed all available seating in the garden. Klava had hoped to find Ariadne or Delphi. They were the only students she knew by name. Few of the tables had seats available, and those that did were filled with older students she did not recognize. Or at least, taller students with the confidence to sit at the tables without feeling they were taking up space. Alone, Klava found no justification to elbow her way into unknown territory. There simply was not enough space to go around.

Should she try asking them to make room at one of the tables? But what if they were waiting for a friend to get out of the lunch line? Or worse, just didn't want her to sit with them? Standing in the walkway, she hoped to make eye contact with someone, but grew self-conscious she was blocking the trash cans.

She tried eating on the brick wall that sectioned off the part of the garden cleared for dining. No one took pity on her or gave her notice, and the longer she sat there, the more she noticed she was the only one sitting on the wall. Perhaps there was seating elsewhere and she gave up too soon?

However far she wandered, she found not a single table or bench that wasn’t full. So, she faded into the dark hallways near the lockers to eat. At least with solid ground, she had a place to put her tray. In times like these, she relied on Ariadne’s confidence to show her the way. Her hometown was far too small to run into problems like nowhere to sit, and somehow Ariadne always had an answer.

Klava ate quickly, looking forward to going to the library where being alone was to be expected and talking was kept to a minimum. She could hide her face in a book, any book, and look like she belonged there. Hopefully, she could ask Ariadne after school what she was supposed to do for the semester so she wouldn’t spend every day eating on the ground.

***

Dim were the fall evenings, painted in pitiful hues of yellow as the setting sun fought to be noticed through the rain. Mortis had his hot drinks and endless time to contemplate if moving the furniture in the house was an option. The old house had so many odd nooks and plain wooden walls that made it feel maze-like.

Sitting outside just to experience something new, he admired the overgrowth of the garden. The wild rose trees cloaked whatever lay outside of the mansion. It made stepping outside for fresh air feel more private. He'd been too scared to be out on the open deck of the ship.Here, knowing the only path in was in his eye-line, he felt less exposed. The small break in the bushes was where the girls had crawled through days prior, and no other footprints had been stamped into the grass.

Tuning out the drizzling rain was the best way for him to gather his thoughts and attempt to read the books that were in the library. The words were difficult, and he struggled to picture anything that happened in them in his mind, but it would give him something new to pester Old Father about. It always felt like pestering when he tried to talk to the old man, but asking questions about the mundane had chipped away at the flinching anytime he heard Mortis's voice. Anything with concrete answers, like what certain words meant, seemed to be his preferred topic of conversation.

He saw a pale face peek through the overgrowth. His heart stopped, until the flora started to wither in the figure's presence. The only visitor he was excited to see, Miss Morai, had responded to Old Father's request to see her. Mortis closed his book and zipped through the house, eager to meet her at the door before she could announce herself.

"Hello, dear." Her voice was just as soft as he remembered. "It is good to see you with more life in your eyes. See, I told you he was okay." Her ceramic mask glistened in the soft lighting of the house. A boy with a gap-toothed grin peeked his head out from behind Morai's flowing robes.

"Morty!"

Mortis flinched. Not that there was anything wrong with his old shipmate, but he hated being called that. He hadn't been Morty since he was a baby. Rook seemed to enjoy reminding him just how much younger and smaller he was than the others, even now that they were off the ship.

"Was I too loud?" Rook asked. "I know you had that thing about being left alone, but I- we were seriously worried when you disappeared like that."

"The others were worried?" Mortis asked.

Kai barely spoke a word of English and Lyca had survived by biting anyone that got near her. He highly doubted either of them were terribly concerned with anything other than relief they had avoided getting eaten by the monster aboard the ship. It was Rook that got into everyone's businesses.

"Okay, curious would better describe it," Rook said. "Mama Morai would only let one of us come." Of course Rook had bullied his way in front of them. Not that Mortis would have much to say to the others.

"Old Father said you only take dead people." Mortis looked up at Morai with quiet suspicion. "Were we all supposed to die on the boat?"

"No," Morai sighed, "I imagine that's been the cause of some confusion. Rook is here to prove that as well." She looked at the dull glow coming from the sitting room. "Come along, dears. He's waiting for us to come to him, the stubborn old goat."

Old Father sat, staring into the hearth, his jaw set in the shadows. With glowing eyes he looked over at the two young boys at Morai's side. She crossed her arms and waited for his judgment.

"You really think I'd break the rules?" Morai clicked her tongue.

"It wouldn't be the first time."

"That was an accident, and you still haven't fixed it," she said. Her ridiculous husband still insisted he wasn't dead, and none of them had been able to convince him otherwise. The breathing and eating he'd been doing certainly hadn't helped their cause. "This is different; they're supposed to be alive."

"Then why did you take them?" Old Father asked. "It's caused quite the confusion over how dead someone has to be to follow you."

"Semantics, old friend. I have living followers just as you do. It's not out of the ordinary for children to be raised by temples," she said.

"Temples run by corpses?" Old Father shook his head. "Morai, you're the one that bemoaned watching innocent mortals die." She'd be up to her ears in them if nothing changed. "What are you to do with them when they grow old?" He paused, looking at her with the same glowing eyes. "Forgive me, I forgot."

"You've been forgetting a lot of things lately." She looked down at Mortis. “Has he taught you anything?”

Mortis thought a bit. “That I am to stare at a fire and do nothing… and until it’s my turn to do nothing, that I do the most somethings I can.”

“Sweet child.” Morai tried not to let misplaced anger slip through her mask. “What somethings have you been doing?”

“Counting,” Mortis said proudly, “and sorting, just like you said. Oh, and making sure all the doors are locked.”

"You've at least been talking to people, haven't you, Morty?" Rook asked. "That's how Mr. Jenkins lost it you know, locking himself up in the bridge."

"I have.I've talked to three people today in fact," Mortis said.

Rook did a head count and frowned, which was far from the reaction Mortis had been hoping for. Three was the largest number of people he'd talked to, minus the one time the garden got invaded. "Sometimes four," Mortis added, though it seemed a hair too late. No one believed him.

"Mortis, why don't you show Rook the rest of the house?" Morai offered. "I'll come find you when it's time to go."

Both children nodded, leaving slow and quiet in the hopes to gauge the sort of conversation they were leaving behind. The sitting room door shut and Rook pressed his ear to the door with no luck. Whatever was being said was the low simmer of a kettle, too quiet to make out anything other than a trace of anger.

"Mama Morai said you got to have anything you wanted.” He pulled away from the door. "I had hoped that included us." Mortis wasn't sure what to say. The idea hadn't even crossed his mind.

"I came here with a job to do. I'm still not sure what it is exactly, but it's slow work. All you ever talked about was what you'd do when we could leave the ship. Slow work wasn't one of those things," he said.

"Right you are." Rook ruffled Mortis' hair. “Have you thought to ask for anything for yourself?"

"Carpets," Mortis swatted Rook's hand away.

"Of course," Rook said with a laugh. "Perhaps that was the difference."

"Between what?"

"You and I." Rook looked over the mansion with less wonder than when he'd first arrived. All plain wood and hard to reach cobwebs. If the manor was any closer to the ocean, it would hardly be any different than the belly of the ship. "I do worry for you," Rook said at last. "We're the closest thing to family either of us has now."

"I doubt the others see it that way." Mortis started off in the direction of the ballroom. It seemed like the sort of place Rook would find grand. Besides, he didn't do well with small spaces.

"Good to hear you still do." Rook chased after him. "You can't go forgetting you can ask for us again. Thinking we're dead isn't an excuse now."

"I know."

The idea of sending for them still made him uncomfortable. He had no idea what they'd even talk about. Like the air, conversations grew stale the last few months in captivity, with everyone talking over Mortis before he had a chance to think. He had no doubt that his collection of new words would bore them more than his oral histories on his favorite heroes. When he had something more momentous, it'd feel more appropriate to call them over. The worst thing he could do was waste their time after all they'd been through.