A House Filled With Night
Sunlight Through the Trees

The following day, somehow, amidst all the pandemonium going on in their lives, Runa found herself chucking walnuts at a wild, polka-dotted Fiske as he danced through the woods with a furious Niko at his heels. This was not the sort of thing she had expected to be doing that day, but somehow, it just ended up that way.

It all began with the unanimous decision to investigate the cathedral Runa recognized in their father’s book. However, they had Lord Cargan’s soldiers to deal with, so sneaking into town would be no easy feat. Sylvain didn’t think wearing hoods would be a sufficient disguise; in fact, they might stand out even more in such suspicious attire.

“Your hair is the real problem,” Runa said, tapping a finger thoughtfully against her chin. “Well, that, and your eyes, but the hair is more obvious.”

When Fiske pouted and Niko looked a little dejected, she quickly added, “It’s not that I don’t like it—it’s quite nice, actually—I just mean it…stands out a little in a crowd.”

“Casimir and I could go by ourselves,” suggested Fiske. “Our hair looks mostly normal. Well, mine does, anyway. I guess his looks a little too…silvery.”

“He’ll fall asleep and you’ll get lost,” Torin pointed out immediately.

“I won’t argue with you there,” Casimir replied with a shrug.

“Why don’t we just dye your hair?” suggested Runa.

Niko’s eyes popped. “Dye m-my hair?”

“Temporarily—”

“That’s a great idea, Runa,” Sylvain cut in with a smile. “But with what?”

She turned to a window, searching around. “Well, I think I saw a walnut tree somewhere…”

“There’s a whole grove outside the House.”

“Oh, really? That’s perfect, black walnuts make a good dye. I once had an old mistress who would dye her hair all the time. I can do it for you.”

Obviously, the task of harvesting walnuts couldn’t be as simple as sending out a few people to pick some and come back. Runa offered to go on her own, but that was apparently out of the question, so Sylvain said he would accompany her, but obviously Fiske wanted join in the fun, at which point Torin began to look a little uneasy and suggested he should join, so Niko offered to tag along and bring snacks, at which point Casimir finally found a worthwhile reason to step foot outside of the House. In the end, everyone went, and it became a sort of spontaneous walnut-picking-festival-picnic.

“It’s the hull of the walnut we need,” Runa explained when they arrived in the walnut grove with their baskets. “So just leave them as they are and try not get anything on you or your clothes. They stain easily.”

Of course, the first thing Fiske did as soon as she finished speaking was to grab a walnut, scratch the hull with his fingernail, and proceed to rub polka-dots onto every inch of his skin that was visible. Niko took a walnut and smeared a mustache onto his face. He grabbed Torin by the neck and rubbed walnut grease into his face, smiling with silent, wicked glee. Runa just laughed to herself and began plopping walnuts into her basket.

“I could make a good pie with these….” Sylvain said thoughtfully, staring at the nut he had picked up. He looked at Runa. “We should pick some for a pie later.”

“That sounds nice,” Runa said. It amazed her that he could still think about baking at a time like this. All she could think about was surviving. But maybe they were just used to it by now.

“Pie sounds amazing,” said Fiske. “I bet walnuts taste better when you harvest them yourself.”

He cracked one open and immediately popped it into his mouth, before Runa could get the words “Fiske!” or “Wait!” out of her mouth.

Fiske blanched, coughed, and spewed out bits of mushy brown walnut goop—which splattered directly onto Niko’s face.

“What…” Niko started, his expression blank as he processed what had happened. Fiske snorted, trying to hold back a giggle. Niko frowned. “Fiske…” he growled.

Niko ran after his brother, who took off with a squeal.

Runa laughed. “They’re not ripe yet—is what I was going to say. Hey! Hey! Get back here!” She started throwing walnuts at him. “Where do you think you’re going? We’re not done yet!”

Torin came up behind her and silently poured all the nuts he had gathered into her basket. Runa turned to thank him, but he was already gone. She sighed. So it was avoiding again, today? She was starting to grow weary from this.

After they had a gathered a hefty harvest, they went back inside the House and cracked open the nuts on garden stones, gathering all the hulls into a bag to take to the kitchen. They sat clumped together around the pots of walnut hulls boiling in water as Runa stirred them occasionally. The Sons of Midnight never seemed to get tired of watching how quickly the water turned brown. After this job was completed, they went back outside and set out pots, chairs, and mounds of towels to begin the dyeing.

They attempted multiple awkward positions while trying to get their shimmering locks into the dull brown dye before deciding upon the best method. Most of them ended up half-lying down on their backs and leaning their heads back into the pot. Niko chose to crouch on his hands and knees and dump his head in directly. Fiske arranged a table and chair so he could lounge back while his hair soaked. Runa tried to explain to him that he didn’t really need to dye his already black hair, but at this point he was so intrigued he wanted to do it anyway.

She walked from brother to brother explaining what to do, shifting their positions slightly, putting towels around their necks, and helping them apply the oil so their skin wouldn’t stain. When she got to Torin, he took the towel from her hands.

“I’ll do it,” he said without looking at her.

“You’ve never—”

“I can do it.”

She frowned and bit her lip, but left him on his own. Even as she walked away, she could feel his eyes on her. He was clearly struggling to get started, yet absolutely refused to ask for help.

Twenty minutes passed. Niko and Casimir finished while Torin was still trying to figure out what to do. Fiske was getting ready to finish soon.

“Runa,” he sang, “Can you help me?”

She came over to Fiske, who sat up too quickly, letting his freshly dyed hair drip everywhere. He grinned as she pushed away the pot of dye away and threw him a towel. He began to clean his wet shoulders while Runa grabbed the bucket of cold water for him to rinse his hair.

Torin stopped to watch the pair. After Fiske finished rinsing his hair, he shook his head like a puppy shaking itself off from a bath. Runa started to dry his hair with the towel. Fiske sighed happily.

Torin flinched.

There was a crashing sound and Runa turned to see Torin jump up, dye splattering all over. The pot tipped over into the grass, spilling its contents.

“Torin!”

As she jumped up to help him, Fiske stuck his out his tongue at his brother behind her back, and Torin lunged.

“You little imp—”

“Stop that! You’re completely covered in dye!”

He stopped in his tracks, practically wilting as Runa shook her head at the mess he had made. Fiske fell over backwards and died laughing. “You look like a sad, wet, brown kitty that got its ears pulled! Hahaha—”

“Fiske, don’t mess up your hair,” Runa snapped. She picked up a towel and began to wipe dye away from Torin’s neck and shoulders, ignoring his protests. “You need to take off this disgusting old shirt,” she murmured.

He turned bright red. “My…shirt?” he squeaked.

She looked up and blushed in turn. “Not here. Go change and come back. Make sure to wash the dye off quickly so it doesn’t stain your skin. Then, please, come back here and let me finish for you. Everyone’s almost done, and you haven’t even started.”

By the time he had changed and returned, Sylvain was leaving and Torin was the only one left.

“Here,” Runa said, taking Torin by the wrist and sitting him down beside a pot of dye. She sat down in front of him. “I filled up one pot with the leftovers from all the others. It’ll be plenty.”

She poured some oil onto a cloth and began dabbing his hairline, neck, and ears with it.

“Runa—”

“No, you clearly don’t know how to do this by yourself.”

“I think I—”

“Just be quiet and let me help you. Please?”

He pursed his lips and puffed out his cheeks, but stayed silent this time. She pulled up the pot of dye and pushed back on Torin’s shoulder so his neck rested upon its edge. While his hair soaked, Runa splashed dye over the parts of his hair that weren’t submerged, occasionally rubbing her fingers in the hard-to-reach places, like behind his ears.

He started staring up at her without thinking about it. At first, he couldn’t see the details of her face very clearly. The sun was shining right into his eyes. Then the wind blew, the branches shifted, and he got a clear view of her gentle eyes, her lips pursed in concentration, her cheeks stained lightly pink. He tried to breathe slowly. It came out shakily. He averted his eyes.

“You know,” he muttered, “You’re not making this easy for me.”

“What?”

“You know.”

“Avoiding me? I don’t remember saying I would make it easy for you.”

“Runa…”

She pushed his head further back into the pot. “If you feel too uncomfortable, you can close your eyes and pretend I don’t exist.”

He closed them immediately, something Runa hadn’t expected. She watched his troubled expression struggle and then relax; she watched her own hands slow where they were in his hair. Her heart was beating faster. Somehow this just made her feel more embarrassed.

She stuck out a finger and dropped a dot of dye on Torin’s nose.

“Hey!” His eyes popped open and he started to sit up, hurriedly wiping away the dye amid Runa’s laughter.

“Wait, wait, be careful!” she giggled, giving him a towel. “We need to rinse your hair. I’ll wash it off for you.”

He sat back down and leaned back, anxious to be done. She brought the water bucket over and scooped cupfuls of water onto his hair. The water felt cool, almost ice-cold, against his hot face. Whenever she ran her fingers through his hair, he could feel a muscle in his hand twitch. He wasn’t sure if it was because he wanted to stop her or because he wanted to grab her and hold her. By the time she had brought out the towel and begun to dry his hair, he couldn’t keep his eyes away anymore. His skin was burning. When his gaze wandered down to her lips, he finally pulled away, standing up and taking the towel with him.

“I…I’ll do it…” he mumbled.

“Torin, you just—”

“Please,” he said quietly. “I can’t…think straight right now.”

She felt her heart skip a beat. She just nodded and began cleaning up, leaving him to dry his hair on his own.

Maybe he was fine avoiding her for all eternity, but she was beginning to think there wasn’t much more of this she could take.

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~ A/N ~

Just some unabashed fluff today :)

Side note - the school year is starting and I am freaking just a little bit.

*screeching teacher noises*

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