Story Time! (Nico + Ivan) (+GILLY x3)

[Nickolaus F. Beilschmidt]

Come little children, I'll take thee away,Into a land of enchantment...

Ivan M. Braginsky

598

READ ME ALL THE STORIES

Ever since he lived with his parents in Germany, Nickolaus had a thing for books. He loved spending time reading them, as little as he could, and fill his head with images. His parents were proud he was a quiet boy who didn’t bother them, and at that even make himself smarter by reading above his level, but what they missed out was the face their son was lacking in his social skills and everyday life routine. So even after when Gilbert adopted him in and gave him both of those (or rather, one and an opportunity to work on the other), Nickolaus still could not tear himself away from his obsession.

It didn’t seem to take long at all for his brother to figure out his obsession, either. Only about a week or two after taking him in, Gilbert took him to the library for the first time, and the boy became hooked. He often asked Gilbert to take him to the only one in the city, and read books at rate that one would possibly finish every book in the children’s section within the first year. The library was the one place he could call a public place where the boy felt at ease enough to have to not feel pressured to communicate with others. No one thought it weird he refused to talk, and didn’t bother him when he sat down to read one of their books.

Gilbert told him the night before they were going to the library first thing in the morning, and Nickolaus was no doubt excited. It was as if one told a child they were going to an amusement park or to the pool; the boy’s eyes lit up, a big smile replaced the frown on his pudgy face, and the small body trembled in pure excitement. He insisted on going to bed early so ‘tomorrow’ came sooner, and the next morning was willing to almost even skip breakfast to jump out the door right after waking up.

Regardless, he was made to sit down as per schedule and eat his breakfast, brush his teeth, change his clothes… And though it seemed long and tedious for the child, when he finally rushed out the door and headed for the library with his brother following behind him, he was possibly the happiest boy in the city. Hopping and skipping the familiar route to the library, he half listened as Gilbert explained to him that he needed to do something on the computer, so to be on his best behavior (not that he really needed the reminder; wasn’t he always on his best behavior??). He nodded to show he heard him, though in his mind he was already thinking of which books he would read while he was made to ‘wait’ while his brother finished some work.

Once they entered the library, Nickolaus fell silent, rubbing his shoes onto the doormat before walking in. He waited beside his brother as he signed onto some papers to borrow a computer, when something new caught his eyes. He watched silently, of a man reading to a child, and not in any way he would assume a parent would read to their kin. He blinked curiously before Gilbert showed him which computer he would be at, nodding and walking off to the children’s section as he always did, where this man was reading to the child. Nickolaus hesitated before he slowly sat down beside the random child, watching the boy wander off right after in boredom, turning to look up to the man slowly. “…?”

by worldie for puchi

[Ivan M. Braginsky]

Ivan M. Braginsky Tired and worn from a life made of wallow and pain   Of what will be made is all that remains at the core TAG Nickolaus F. Beilschmidt WORDS 687 NOTES awkward ivan meets curious nico

The day had started off on a sour note for Ivan. He woken up drenched in sweat. In a dark, unfamiliar room reeking of wet moss. And he had wrenched the thin sheets off onto the floor and seized up in panic, unable to breathe or to even scream because he was back in the field, head and thoughts overflowing with panic and orders echoing in the back of his head: Leave no one alive, kill them all- Then he had sat up, after two hours of shivering and clutching at his head on the cold, damp floor, he realised: that's right, he was in his new apartment bedroom. He had moved into this place several days ago, had picked it out on his own and argued silently with himself under his breath about the price and whether he could make rent each month. He was not in the blood-splattered alleyways of St. Petersburg, not surrounded by his dying men. There was no telepath in his mind, commanding him to kill. He was no longer in his nightmare. Nightmares. That's all there ever seemed to be nowadays. After that, he had stripped the apartment clean and swept it through, then mopped it. Twice. Hands shaking and throat tight around each breath he took. Dear God, he needed to calm down. This problem, this... restlessness couldn't go on for much longer. He had said he would find a job within a week or two, but this was ridiculous. He might drive himself insane before he found a permanent solution. Well, he reasoned when he sat down to an apartment stinking of bleach, the floors shining spotlessly, the issue certainly will not solve itself the longer I sit here. He set out soon afterwards. The streets were cold in the early morning, and his feet took him aimlessly down Archadia's long sidewalks--and somehow, he'd ended up in the city's only library.  Volunteer hours, he told himself as he went over the information at the front desk, does not bring in money. It would not pay his rent for the end of this month, nor the next. He took the opportunity, anyway. Anything to make it so that when he fell into bed each night, there would nothing but exhaustion. No room for nightmares. It seemed, however, that the staff had been expecting much less from Ivan. Within the first four hours he had gone through half their shelves, reorganising the entire adults' fiction section and well on his way through the nonfiction when they had pulled him off and demanded he do something else. Anything, because it was driving the receptionist mad. Help people find their books, clean the restrooms, read to the children, whatever. Ivan had done the bathroom two hours ago, and he was in no mood to cater to directionless book-searchers.  Read to the children it was. ... or, well, whatever children there were. He had been camping out in the children's section for about half an hour now, with a small pile of books, one of each level--in case the younger children wanted easier material to listen to. One boy had taken interest a few minutes ago, but once Ivan had cracked open an adaptation of Disney's Lady and the Tramp, the child's mind had wandered off to the computers instead. Perhaps he didn't like Ivan's accent, or the poor attempts at the voices--it had been a while since Ivan had had to do any reading aloud for anymore else. As the boy prepared to set off, Ivan had considered shutting down, putting the books back, and retracting his promised hours to the library. But just then, a blonde, short-legged child with blue eyes wandered over to the mat and sat himself down right next to the other boy. The latter immediately took the chance, scurrying away in the direction of the computers. Ivan watched him leave, then turned back to the new child, who was staring up at him with bright, wide eyes filled with inquiry. Ivan paused, stomach swirling at the unexpected attentiveness, and cleared his throat. Goodness, what was he supposed to say? "... Hello."

MADE BY VEL OF GS, WW + ADOX 2.0

[Nickolaus F. Beilschmidt]

Come little children, I'll take thee away,Into a land of enchantment...

Ivan M. Braginsky

529

He's just a shy little thing pfft

Nickolaus was confused as to why the man suddenly stopped reading at first, glancing to the child who wandered off to the computers in the corner of the room. He seemed to sit down eagerly in front of the screen, clicking away at whatever buttons or icons he could find on the monitor. Far from interested in computers himself, Nickolaus didn’t take long to turn back to the man in question, tilting his head slightly to the side.

Never before did he ever meet a random man reading to children in the library. Sure it was possibly one of the more common events in other places perhaps, but this little boy had no experience with it in his four short years of life. He liked being read to, as much as he liked reading books himself, so he thought he could just join in and listen to whatever story this man was reading to the child that once occupied the mat all to himself?
Maybe he did it wrong.

Maybe he wasn’t allowed to listen? He wouldn’t see the reason, but maybe, just as Gilbert and Alfred would only read to him before bed, maybe this man too only read to the child that was far from interested now? If that was the case… Maybe Nickolaus had done something bad to have made the child want to leave.

That would make sense as to why the man stopped reading all together. But would it be rude if he too just got up and left for his own book to read while he waited for Gilbert to finish his work? Perhaps so, especially after—

“…Hello.”

The man spoke after clearing his throat, catching Nickolaus off guard. The child flinched where he sat, focusing his attention back onto the man after having been wandering off looking all over for any other hints of what he had done wrong. Hello… Hello, that was… a greeting, wasn’t it? If Nickolaus remembered correctly… He was still getting used to the whole different language system, and his thoughts all having been in German, it took the boy quite a few moments to finally respond. It’d be rude to not say anything back, so…

“G… Guten.. Tag…” He muttered, glancing up to the clock. It was nearing noon, right? Right. It took a few additional seconds for Nickolaus to realize he wasn’t speaking the same language as the other, and quickly tried to correct himself through mumbles, a soft whimper passing him as he struggled with his own voice. He was still afraid of speaking in full voice, and if anything, the library perhaps provided him with excuses to whisper. “H-.. H… Hello…”

The boy then awkwardly gave a hesitant glance to the books both piled on the end table and to the one in the man’s hand, pointing to it with his chubby finger. He recognized that picture… The picture of two dogs eating spaghetti—What was it…?

“…” He couldn’t remember the title, and the man’s large hand cleverly hid it from the boy’s view. He tried to remember it through what he was used to, watching it back at home. “…Susi und Strolch…”

by worldie for puchi

[Ivan M. Braginsky]

Ivan M. Braginsky Tired and worn from a life made of wallow and pain Of what will be made is all that remains at the core TAG Nickolaus F. Beilschmidt WORDS 745 NOTES trigger warning necessary for social anxiety? panic? 700 words of ivan sucking at talking to ppl basically

The boy didn't respond at first... only peered up at Ivan with those wide, bright blue eyes. Ivan gave a dry cough, cheeks flushing, and felt himself clam up. ... Reading, right. He should keep on reading. But that expression of anticipation on the boy's face, now darkened with hints of apprehension and nervousness... Ivan's throat was completely dry. He could continue, yes, but what if it wasn't what the boy expected, and he lost interest like the last one did? 'It isn't an issue,' Ivan tried reassuring himself, 'there's plenty of other things to do if this one leaves, too.' But the boy's eyes, lit up with expectation, froze Ivan to his seat. He didn't want to child to go; didn't want to see the disappointment fall across the small face and a frown spread to those pale, chubby cheeks. He knew he shouldn't concern himself over it if the boy decided that Ivan's reading wasn't right for him, either. Children's attention spans were short. Ivan had no control over what would capture their attention one moment, or what would in the next. The boy that had wandered off to the computers earlier meant no personal offence to Ivan. Ivan knew it; but still, he couldn't help but put some of the fault upon his own ability. He had always hated seeing children (well, seeing anyone) saddened or crestfallen.  He needed to say something. Anything. Sitting there without a word, like some awful silent giant, would scare the child away soon enough, if his awful reading did not. Bozhe moy*, it had been far too long since he had spoken with a child. He had played with the younger boys and girls in his hometown as a young man, but now? After years of being surrounded by professors in university and older men in the military? Had he forgotten it all? *"Oh God" in Russian Ivan fished for something to say, fingers tightening around the cover of the book. 'It is easy, Ivan, he is a child... anything you say would suffice. Even simple remarks--he cannot be more than five. Why the worrying, Christ!' Ivan opened his mouth. Then closed it.  'Nothing.' This was what he had studied thirteen months of medicine and two years of engineering for. What three whole years in the military had done for him. 'Ivan Mykyta Braginsky, you are brilliant.' Six years of experience, and knowledge in French, Ukrainian, Russian, and other Slavic languages--all this, and he could not speak to a child. A small squeak from below him caught his attention, and he blinked down at the boy. “G… Guten.. Tag…” the small boy strained, barely at a whisper. '... German?' Then, even more quietly: “H-.. H… Hello…” The boy stared up at him expectantly. Still, though he searched for the words, Ivan found nothing to say. He sat, clutching at the book, and felt regret swell up inside him. God, he shouldn't be here. What had possessed him to think that moving away from familiarity was a good idea, into a completely new city and to let himself come here? Surrounded by strange faces, unable to interact with even small children-- “…Susi und Strolch…” Ivan nearly dropped the book, startled by the boy's sudden words. Calm... he had to stay calm before he went into panic. He could learn to handle this after months of isolation (there was no other choice). He needed to adjust to civilian life again if he wanted any chance of erasing the scars that the trauma had left in him. Ivan took a deep breath, steeling his resolve, before turning back to the boy. "Yes...?" Ivan stared down at the child, at the stubby finger pointed up towards him and to the book... "Oh. Oh!" He moved his hand away from the cover and shifted forward in the little seat. It creaked in warning under his weight as he bent over closer to speak to the child more easily. "Susi und Stroltch"--dear God, his German was truly awful--"In English? It is Lady and the Tramp." Did the boy even understand that much English? Could he piece together what Ivan was telling him? Or was Ivan making a completely fruitless attempt at conversation? If it turned out he wasn't communicating correctly, and the child got the completely wrong idea... "Do you speak English?" Ivan asked after a brief pause. He spoke slowly--enough so that each syllable rang loud and clear, even in his accented English. "What's your name?"

MADE BY VEL OF GS, WW + ADOX 2.0

[Nickolaus F. Beilschmidt]

Come little children, I'll take thee away,Into a land of enchantment...

Ivan M. Braginsky

571

Still a nervous little kid.

After the initial hello, there was a long pause. It was Nickolaus’ fault, no doubt, but it was still a long dreadful one. By the time the boy mastered the courage to speak up a reply, the Russian man seemed to open and close his mouth and tighten the fingers over the cover of the book. Nico’s eyes caught the actions rather easily, something perhaps a child could catch easier than an adult could. Body language was possibly stronger than verbal at this age; he studied the man’s movements, before finally gathering the courage to speak.

His greeting at first came out in his native language, and then a little later in English, in which the boy figured the man could probably speak better. Once moving to Russia, it didn’t take the boy long at all to find out they didn’t speak German, so he spoke the secondary language his parents taught him. English, the universal language around the world, as he was taught, was just as important as his native tongue. And though he was still in the process of learning it, it was difficult to separate it completely with his native language, mixing the two up quite often in the middle of his speech. That was just something he had to work with over time.

A conversation had to take place first, however, and Nickolaus’ choice was to say the title of the story the man was holding in his hand. His chubby finger lowered slowly when the man almost dropped the book and suddenly began talking again. The butchering of German was enough to make the child smile slightly, finding it funny and strange that this man, a grown man, was unable to speak what was simple for him. When the man began speaking in English again however, his brows furrowed as he tried to pick up on the individual words.

"In English? It is Lady and the Tramp."

“…” Nickolaus didn’t even attempt to give the title a try, simply tilting his head slightly to the side. He kept quiet, giving one glance to the book once more before turning his focus back up to the man, the nose especially catching his eyes with how large it was compared to other adults’ he’d seen. His attention was only pulled away when he was asked a question soon after, making him hesitate at first. The man speaking slowly did help him understand what he was being asked, so he just gave a small nod to answer. Even the heavily accented English was understandable, only thanks to the slowly presented words.

“Eloy-“ Nickolaus stopped himself, his eyes widening right when he mentioned his former first name. The name came out reflexively, and he bit his lower lip to give himself a simple self-scolding. The child stuttered out quickly after, it being the only way he figured he could cover his own mistake. “N-Nickolaus… Beilschmidt…” He muttered, pointing over towards the adult computers to his brother, easily finding him in the silent crowd with his white hair, “…Bwuder…” He muttered, trying to cover up his own mistake by shifting the attention to his own brother he came here with. Maybe it was also to help calm himself, seeing reminding himself that his brother was just a few meters away was enough to make the boy relax. If he messed up or did something too wrong, he could help him, right…?

by worldie for puchi

[Ivan M. Braginsky]

Ivan M. Braginsky Tired and worn from a life made of wallow and pain   Of what will be made is all that remains at the core TAG Nickolaus F. Beilschmidt WORDS 588 NOTES He's starting to open up, you'll be okay Nico <3

"Eloy-" The boy jerked, seeming to catch himself, and moved on quickly. But Ivan hadn't missed the slip up. 'Eloy?' What could that be? A nickname--or a past name, perhaps? ... Well, whatever it was, he would leave it. Ivan was not one to pry into others' businesses, and he did not expect the boy to be eager to pursue the question if Ivan asked. “N-Nickolaus… Beilschmidt…” Definitely German, and likely raised with it as a first language if the perfect accent was anything to judge by. But at least he seemed to get the gist of what Ivan was saying. From his expressions, Nickolaus had had a little trouble with deciphering the words beneath Ivan's thick accent. But he would manage just fine. “…Bwuder…” Nickolaus spoke hesitantly, softly as he had his first words, and pointed over to the computers.  Ivan glanced over, where a pale, white-haired man was clicking away in front of a monitor. "That is your brother?" Ivan recognised the face, he realised. He had seen it in photographs of the front cover stories hung up in newspaper stands and strewn about on the sidewalk. Something about a grand opening of something or other that was fast approaching. Ivan had paid it little attention; it was unlikely he'd be out and about for a while. But perhaps he should pick up one of the papers when he headed home later... if Nickolaus's brother turned out to be someone of important to Archadia, Ivan wanted to know. "I see. Is he busy for a while? You can stay here and listen as long as he's working, if you like." Ivan could feel the nervousness exuding off the boy. Oddly enough, it wasn't quite so infectious as second-hand emotions usually were for Ivan. There was no panic or anxiety bubbling in his chest. That was a relief, since it looked like the boy was here to stay. There was just... a sense of need to comfort whatever unease Nickolaus felt in Ivan's presence. Comfort he could do. Ivan was making progress, he knew. Nickolaus's mouth had twitched upwards into a smile at his poor German. He should continue talking, about things Nickolaus might like, to divert the child's attention before Ivan intimidated the boy any further. "... well, since you are the only one right now. Do you want to hear more of this story? Or is there another book you would like for me to read to you?" The same slow pace with which he'd asked Nickolaus for his name should do. Otherwise, with his English, the boy might have trouble understanding. He leaned over to grab the other books he had brought with him. Nickolaus seemed quiet but, though small and chubby as he was, he radiated an air of intelligence. Perhaps this was not the book for him. Ivan would see what he wanted. Ivan pushed his chair back to create more space between him and the boy, in which he laid out the remainder of his book collection. Various Disney works, retold in storybook form with screencaps from the movies taken and retouched... and some other series that might be over Nickolaus's head, but should still do for listening material. Ivan gestured to the small pile spread over the floor. "You can pick anything that you want. Or, we can keep continuing with this one?" Ivan leaned back in his tiny chair and clasped his gloved hands, content to wait and let Nickolaus browse through the material at his own pace.

MADE BY VEL OF GS, WW + ADOX 2.0

[Nickolaus F. Beilschmidt]

Come little children, I'll take thee away,Into a land of enchantment...

Ivan M. Braginsky

765

HAH I WROTE ONE WHERE HE SAYS NOT A SINGLE WORD >D

Nickolaus was relieved when the man didn’t ask him of his slip up mentioning his former name, figuring he never heard it. He was naïve enough to think as so, and decided he’d rather keep it as so, so when the man’s attention easily shifted to his brother sitting at the computer a few feet away, he blinked slowly at the next question that was thrown at him instead.

"That is your brother?"

The child nodded in confirmation, not knowing of his brother’s real fame. Unknown to him, Gilbert seemed to be known by quite a few strangers whether from the news or the magazines, regarding the new factory being built by the company head quartered in New York (which of course, the boy never been to himself). The chubby finger lowered from pointing to the white haired man, and he tilted his head slowly as the large man continued to speak.

"I see. Is he busy for a while? You can stay here and listen as long as he's working, if you like."

“…”

Nickolaus didn’t respond with words, simply just giving another silent nod when he was asked if his brother was busy for some time. Gilbert seemed to always be busy when he sat at one of the computers, not that Nickolaus minded too much. He enjoyed spending the hours in the quiet library reading books, playing on the computers, watching movies, taking a nap, and sometimes, even eat a small lunch Gilbert brought along to feed him when he got hungry for the lunch hours. Coming to the library was a whole day event, and the brothers were well known in the facility for staying for hours once they arrived anyway. It wasn’t like they were treated any differently because of it; just small discounts here and there sometimes when it came to renting fees possibly.

And today, he met this new man. Regardless of coming to the library quite frequently, this was the first time Nickolaus noticed this man. Was he here before as well? Or maybe he was never in the children’s area; that would make sense as well for the boy not knowing him.

"... Well, since you are the only one right now. Do you want to hear more of this story? Or is there another book you would like for me to read to you?"

The slowly spoken words were helpful, seeing the boy was able to easily understand him in one try. He at first stared to the book the man held in hand before frowning, getting back up to his feet and approaching him. He heard the story of the two dogs falling in love several times, by this time he could already tell the story by memory. It didn’t necessarily mean he didn’t want to hear it (really if Ivan decided to read it just now, he wouldn’t have complained; the two dogs falling in love was always a nice story to listen to), but a new choice was always much more refreshing. As Ivan gestured to the pile of books on the floor, the chubby preschooler began looking through the choices.

Disney works were always good; they were easy to understand, fun to hear and watch of course, and very colorful. It easily kept the boy’s attention, and the selection presented in front of him was no different. Ignoring the obvious books for the much younger children with only one or two words on each page, Nickolaus took a book in hand and gave the cover a curious look.

"You can pick anything that you want. Or, we can keep continuing with this one?"

Nickolaus shook his head and held up the book he took into his hand; the Disney’s version of Hunchback. He never seen the movie, his parents always refusing to show him any children movies in general and Gilbert’s selection usually consisting of more easy-to-understand material for the child just diving into the franchise, that the Disney logo on this picture book made the boy curious. He didn’t see any cute puppies or kittens, or even aliens, on the cover. Yet it was a Disney story?

Grabbing the Lady and the Tramp book the man originally held, Nickolaus instead put the book he chose into Ivan’s grasp and moved back onto the circle of a mat. He sat on the edge of it, closest to the man, and tilted his head once more in silence, before clapping slightly a few times, a small smile on his face as excitement made him want to hurry and have the man start.

by worldie for puchi

[Ivan M. Braginsky]

Ivan M. Braginsky Tired and worn from a life made of wallow and pain   Of what will be made is all that remains at the core TAG Nickolaus F. Beilschmidt WORDS 659 NOTES time for nico to learn that picture books aren't all fun and games ;3

Ivan watched Nickolaus sift through the books. The boy didn't seem particularly interested in hearing the rest of the one Ivan had started, with the way he was eyeing the Disney selection. He completely surpassed the Magic Treehouse series and Roald Dahl works, pushing them aside and (as expected) went straight for the Disney picture books. He picked up one—The Hunchback of Notre Dame—and pursed his little lips, giving it a moment of consideration. 'A bit dark for a boy so young, but...' Well, it was written for children Nickolaus's age. The boy could handle it. Ivan saw it in his wide blue eyes: a curiosity and brightness beyond other boys Nickolaus's age. Nickolaus had finally made his decision. Ivan held back a snort as the child picked himself off the floor and waddled over, stepping over the pile of rejected books that he'd deemed too easy or too dull. Ivan didn't expect Nickolaus to actually tug the book out of his hands, but he didn't resist. Lady and the Tramp was swiftly replaced by a worn copy of The Hunchback, and Ivan turned the picture book over in his hands. The title, a custom painting for this book's edition, was a gorgeous canvas of bright and airy hues. The silhouette of the hunchback Quasimodo stood defeated in the shadows of an underground prison cell, with only a small barred grate slightly above ground that he could peer out of. The deformed mutant's fingers curled around the bars of his cell, haunted eyes gazing up at a grand portrait of Judge Frollo, who took up the centre of the cover. One arm stretched to the heavens as he stood, tall and proud, in the light of the sun, Frollo's other hand pointed—condemning—towards the fleeing figures of Phoebus and Esmerald on the edge of the canvas. Those who had attempted to help the hideous mutant Quasimodo flee from his tower prison... they, too, faced punishment. All children learnt this at a young age. And all the while, the cathedral of Notre Dame stood in the background, the statues of long-dead saints and the Virgin Mary watching over Frollo's righteous deeds. A pleased smile painted their stone faces as they looked down upon the scene. 'Beautiful.' A slightly unsettling, but powerful illustration indeed. It had been a while since Ivan had picked up this title. The last time had been in his youth, only months after Disney had released the animated film. Ivan had sat, entranced throughout the entire movie, and then had begged his mother for the picture book when it was published. It still sat in his apartment, inside one of the boxes filled with childhood memories brought from Ukraine. One of the only picture books Ivan had owned. Hm. How fitting that he should come across it in Archadia again after all this time. Ivan glanced up at the boy, who had seated himself on the mat and was now staring up at Ivan attentively. He gave Nickolaus a pleasant smile. "You want this one?" Nickolaus didn't say another word to him the entire time. He responded only with nods, and even little claps when Ivan cleared away the other titles and straightened up with the new book in hand. 'Shy boy.' The child was almost rocking back and forth in his spot with anticipation. Ivan could feel the excitement bubbling inside Nickolaus, and felt his own lips pull up into a smile. Ivan chuckled under his breath and pulled open the cover. A colourful spread of illustrations met his eyes... he'd have to turn the book around when he finished each page, to show each of them to Nickolaus. No doubt the boy would love the busy paintings, the cobblestone streets of a long-gone Paris decorated with bright banners and festive fun. Ivan cleared his throat once more, eyes drifting across the large print. "Morning in Paris: The city wakes to the tolling bells of Notre Dame..."

MADE BY VEL OF GS, WW + ADOX 2.0

[Nickolaus F. Beilschmidt]

Come little children, I'll take thee away,Into a land of enchantment...

Ivan M. Braginsky

638

I REWATCHED IT TO GET THE STORY IN MY HEAD AGAIN LOL I AM A LOSER. We shall move the story along together <3

Once Ivan opened the book for after settling himself comfortably on the chair, did Nickolaus really get to study the cover once more of his choice. It was quite unsettling; the very reason he picked it. The large logo of the familiar company made it difficult to look too terrifying, and though no cutsey animals decorated the cover, it was just as colorful as any Disney title would look. Perhaps it had a darker meaning in the illustration alone, but the boy was far too uneducated to know of it.

If anything, it painted reality as it was. Monsters were locked up and humans were in the rights, and people who tried to get monsters out of their cages were bad guys. Even during his short stay in the city, already, the toddler knew the whispered law among the citizens.

Turning his attention back to the man when he began to read the first phrase, Nickolaus wrapped his arms around his legs, knees pulled to his chest, taking up as little space as he possibly could in case there were any other children who wanted to join to listen as well.

From the beginning, the man’s voice seemed to fit the story telling itself. Perhaps it was because he already knew the story, or maybe he was just used to reading to children, it didn’t matter to Nickolaus anyway. His eyes widened, instantly his full attention locking onto the story, the words alone enough to paint the scene. He could practically hear the bells in his head that awoke the city of Paris, to which, he imagined, was much like what he saw in the geography books before.

What Nickolaus didn’t expect however, was the sudden dark turn in the story from the very beginning. Sure, the book kept it vague (perhaps the reasoning being they couldn’t explain it simply with a song?), but still enough to give the information needed to the child for him to understand that, Frollo, as Ivan said, chased a woman down and took the baby, in which he called a ‘monster’. At that alone, Nickolaus’ eyes widened, suddenly much more interested in the story alone.

A monster…? Like, the one on the cover? Which one was Frollo…? Furrowing his brows, Nickolaus tried to piece the story together with the cover art, only to blink up back to focus his attention to Ivan once more. From the very beginning, already, there was a riddle being asked for the children who were diving into the story. Who was the monster, and who was the man?

…Easy. It couldn’t be more obvious. Nickolaus stood up and pushed his finger onto the cover once the riddle was asked, not hesitating to answer on the spot. He had this strange pride within him that made him act like a little, know-it-all child, in a sense. Perhaps it was something that had to be fixed before he entered school, but no matters now. With his finger pushed on the cover, Nickolaus made sure his finger was pointing to Quasimodo, before muttering.

“Monster…” He answered, before turning to the other humans on the picture, and pointing to the man he figured was ‘Frollo’, as Ivan stated in the story. He looked important, with his large hat and gray hair; the nose was a little too big for Nickolaus’s comfort if he were to be real, but the frilly cape, or of what Nickolaus thought it was, made him look important. “Man…”

Who was the monster and who was the man? Really, Nickolaus thought Disney had better riddles than something as easy as this! He turned to Ivan before backing away and sitting on the mat again, tilting his head slowly to the side, waiting for him to continue. Hope the story was more interesting than just pointless riddles… “…”

by worldie for puchi

[Ivan M. Braginsky]

Ivan M. Braginsky Tired and worn from a life made of wallow and pain   Of what will be made is all that remains at the core TAG Nickolaus F. Beilschmidt WORDS 586 NOTES rip children's media in this universe

Ivan flipped through the book, bringing to life the words of Clopin's song as he remembered them in the film. He wasn't as good as the movie, and he certainly did not want to sing even if he thought that it might amuse Nickolaus. So he resigned himself to simply reading the words with as much flair as he could.  Nickolaus himself had settled nicely on the carpet, listening with rapt attention. His eyes remained fixed on Ivan, occasionally darting back and forth from the cover illustration, and he swayed slightly every so often to the flow of the narration. It was Frollo's pursuit of the woman and his eventual procuring of the monster, however, that caught Nickolaus' attention in full. The boy's eyes widened as Ivan voiced the back and forth between the priest and the judge.  As cruel as Frollo seemed, however, he was doing the right thing. Ivan shuddered inwardly to think of the monstrous creature the baby would grow up into; and all thanks to the father. The old man was a toned-down, subtle portrayal of the pro-mutant propaganda that frequently surfaced nowadays. Truly disgusting. The priest might have his obligations to God to fulfill, a need to preserve life. But what did many of these young men and girls testify as their cause nowadays? Equality? Between a mutant and a human? Impossible. One did not try to save terrorists and murderers from the death row. Why, then, feed and encourage dangerous animals to run free on the streets? Cruel as Judge Frollo might seem, he was ultimately correct in his views. Ivan himself was split on the issue; death seemed a heavy option, but not so when he considered just what the mutants had done to his unit. Taking prisoners, at the moment, was his solution. It was one of the more... humane ones, in his opinion. Much worse could be done to the mutants — after all, this was very much a war. Ivan watched the boy make up his mind, his answer to the riddle dictated easily by his short little finger. In any other case, Ivan would have dug further: asked Nickolaus just why he chose the answer he did. He was always curious for a child's justification of their thoughts — in some cases, they could be wrong, and Ivan would gently redirect them to the correct reasoning. For the most part, it was simply amusing how logic worked in their little heads, how the cogs in their brains creaked along until age brought self-sufficiency and a more complex system for the mind to operate upon. It was a lovely process to watch, and a very poetic one. In another life, Ivan might have become a teacher. But Nickolaus was not quite old enough, nor willingly verbal, for such detailed answers and banter. "Yes." Ivan nodded in full agreement to Nickolaus' answer. "The mutant Quasimodo. He was lucky that Frollo allowed him to live at all. The priest," he murmured in consideration, tracing a finger across the page. The old priest's face was kind and weathered, but it could not be trusted. "Be careful not to judge by appearances. The kindest people may have the most incorrect beliefs." He nodded, pleased with his own explanation. Nothing was black and white in this world, after all. But at least the child was knowledgeable enough to weed out danger. Ivan was glad that the education system, for all the useless books they liked to churn out, was doing one thing correct.

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