— MAMI .
status: closed > @rvelator date: late january location: bear-tooth ridge (hellhound’s campsite)
everything for the evening had already settled. after supper, mami works to clear everything and put food away, making sure the critters don’t come in the night trying to take it. even the much bigger critters. it’s all a bit exhausting, and every night, especially in the cold winter, she’s exhausted. though having no time to wind down seemed tragic for her, so she made sure to give herself time to let her body rest before making her way to bed.
seeing the familiar face by the fire, mami made a quick dash to her tent before approaching the flames again, tugging on her coat. “hello,” she said simply, planing a hand on mac’s shoulder first before sitting beside him. “hope you’re staying warm.” she turns her head the slightest to look at him, giving him that twinge of a smile. “i have something for you.” she said quickly, and reaching inside her jacket to pull out a thin cloth.
it wasn’t large. she had dyed it on a previous afternoon. mami doesn’t like her cloth to be all the same color and if she can find the right flowers she’s going to make sure there’s color variation. but one of her deep blue scraps had seemed perfect for him. it was a bit long, and thin, but could be held easily in the palm of your hand. her stitch work was careful, and light. the little white knots around a small crescent moon, she’d even stitched a shoot star in the depiction of the night sky. holding it out to mac, her smile grew a bit more present. “you keep bending the corners of your pages, those pages will fall apart. you stick this in there instead and your book will be better off.” she looks at him, then back to the cloth, and at him again. there was always a shred of concern when it came to him, that maybe she’d gone too far, and her nice gesture would only shut him out more. maybe he did not want mami’s things to be meshing with the things of his family. maybe his past life, and his current life, are to remain separate.
“ hi, mami, ” he greets instinctively at first, a smile creeping onto his face at the mere sight of her, buoyed by the gentle hand on his shoulder. at the offering she procures, though, his face changes. “ oh, ” he says eloquently at first glance, the quiet surprise of someone who will never be quite used to receiving nice things. this world has hardly been kind to him, slapping him in the chest with death and tragedy, only handing him something good if it intended to yank it out of reach as soon as possible. mami, though, mami had never deceived him in such a way; five years later, it still took some getting used to. he’d resisted for far too long, never truly believing that someone genuinely wanted to offer him a gentle hand without pulling it back out of his grasp. he’s learned, though. it’s taken him five years, but he’s learned.
by the time he reaches out to accept the gift, he knows it’s been a beat too long, but he hopes the bare bones of a smile on his face help to ease the moment of tension. after spending so long trying to resist her kindness, it’s odd, sometimes, to try to accept it freely. he thinks of reading to mami by the low light of a lantern, and imagines threading this small piece of cloth between the pages of david copperfield when her eyes eventually droop from a long, hard day’s work. he thinks of his brothers’ eyes, wide and shining with delight as he used to to the same for them, and knows they would approve.
“ thank you, ” he finally manages to say, trying valiantly to keep any semblance of emotion out of his voice. it doesn’t work, but he knows that mami knows better by now, that evaluating the careful way he accepts the piece of cloth is much more important than anything that leaves his mouth. he’s always been one to show, not tell, and this moment is one such example of that habit. his hands, rough as they are from so much hard labor, hold the bookmark as if it’s made out of glass, fingers tracing gently over mami’s careful embroidery. he’s never been a man of many words, but he can’t abstain in this moment. “ you shouldn’t have, ” he adds modestly, finally raising his gaze. “ i know you have more important things to attend to, but... thank you, ” he finishes, and even though it feels inadequate, a true smile finally creeps onto his face.
