A soft shuffling noise was the only sound in the stairwell as Wick made his way up the stairs, one step at a time. Being seven inches tall had its disadvantages, after all. The biggest problem was going places. Why's she have to live up so many flights? the young faery thought, a petulant frown on his babyish face. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he paused to shake the tangles of his gingery hair out of his eyes.

Wick was the very picture of the word 'morose' - besides the gloomy expression on his face, his clothes and hair looked more unkempt than usual, and two of the earrings in his pointed ears had somehow broken. He hadn't bothered to take them out. There were flecks of dirt on his horns, near the tips. His horns were usually the only thing about him he made sure to keep squeaky-clean - so he must be in a bad mood.

He would have sighed in relief at reaching the top of the stairs- except he couldn't sigh. He couldn't make a sound if he tried, thanks to that spell cast on him by Violet's English professor. Wick hated him so much - completely silencing him for a week? It was so unfair...
The young faery went on down the hallway, and finding the correct room, proceeded to kick the door a couple of times, with the toe of his boot. Hopefully the room's occupant would hear it, and open the stupid door...

Taryn didn't hear for a moment or two, mind on other things than listening for a rather soft sound at her door. Like her music, which was on nearly constantly, just providing a nice background to whatever she happened to be doing at the time.

At the moment, she was drawing, trying to work out a likeness of one of the characters in one of the books she liked to read. Unfortunately, he was described in a way that made him very difficult to draw without him coming off as female.

Drat.

She crumpled up another sheet and tossed it in the trashcan.

"Come in."

Come in?
Can't reach the doorknob, or I'd have already let myself in. Come 'n open the door... sheesh, he thought, his frown darkening. He kicked again, harder. Come on, Taryn, open up...

Well, Taryn had no way of knowing who was on the other side of the door, now did she? She sighed and reached around behind her head to twist the doorknob and let the door open.

About half an inch, but...

"I said, come in."

Wick smirked faintly, seeing the door open. He slipped in, sideways, and gave the door a shove to close it behind him. It only budged about a sixth of an inch. He mouthed a silent 'hello', out of habit, looking up at Taryn. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, waiting for her to notice him.

The fact that, as far as she could tell, the door didn't budge, despite her multiple 'come in's, is what made her look up and lift an eyebrow. "Coming in or not... Oh. Hello, Wick. What're you doing here?"

Thought he didn't like her after that incident in Violet's room. Not that she minded (much) of course, it was just surprising.

Finally. Someone who didn't glare at him upon sighting him.

As he couldn't very well say what he was doing there, he just gave a shy wave and a little, rather forced, smile. He took a few steps closer to her, then sat down where he was. He'd be content to just hang around for awhile. She wouldn't mind.... he was pretty sure she liked him still - he'd settle for that.
He didn't dislike Taryn. She scared him, but he didn't dislike her. Besides - she'd said sorry for the little near-throwing incident. And that was good enough for Wick.

"You know, you're going to get stepped on if you're not careful, sitting there like that. Here." She leaned over the side of the bed and scooped the faery up, depositing him on the pillow next to her. (She was leaning back, pillows propped against the wall, notebook on her knees.)

"You're awfully quiet," she observed. "Something wrong?"

Wick quickly shook his head -... then nodded, having changed his mind. Yes, something was wrong. He was being quiet, that was what was wrong. 'Course, I can't say so, he thought, slumping a little. Hope she doesn't get angry before she figures it out.
The faery pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them. He gave Taryn a mournful look, his hazel eyes sad and despairing.

Now she was curious. "What's the matter? How come you won't say anything?" She cocked her head at him and laid the notebook and pencil down on the bed, turning her full attention on the faery and lifting her eyebrows in perplexity.

He wasn't even this quiet when he was almost unconscious.

Angry? No. Worried, now that's a definite maybe.

The faery eyed the pencil and notebook. There was an idea. He wouldn't have to play charades for half an hour to make her understand. He could just write it out. Getting up, he picked up the pencil, clumsily maneuvering it over the open page of the notebook, and began to write. It was difficult, but he could manage it.

I... c... a... n...' ...t

She blinked. In the first place, it hadn't occured to her that he could write, especially not with a pencil nearly as long as he was tall. In the second place...

"What do you mean, you can't? Lost your voice?"

Maybe he'd been shouting too much. Or something.

He paused to think for a moment, trying to make the answer as short and as easily understandable as possible. Then he set to writing - even with the short version of the story, it took him a while to write it down.
Another disadvantage of being small - having to use giant writing implements.

Made someone angry. They put a spell on me so I can't talk.

"Convenient. Wish I knew that spell so I could put it on my little sibs... Not that I don't feel sorry for you, 'course. How long are you stuck playing the quiet game?" She was sympathetic, of course. It must be awful to be stuck not saying a word...

Not that Taryn was a terribly talkative person, mind, but she did like to talk occasionally.

A week. Maybe more, he scrawled, then looked up at her, making a face to show just how he felt about it. Which was angry, sad, and frustrated. One day was too long, never mind one week.

It did make him feel a little better, though, that Taryn didn't say something nasty like 'you probably had it coming'.

"Ouch. I'd ask what you did to make that someone angry, but... I dunno if it's fair to ask you to write that much." Since obviously it was rather difficult for him to handle the enormous...

"Oh. Idea. Hold on a second."

She scrambled off the bed and dug in one of the smaller pockets on the front of her backpack.

"Aha." And handed him a piece of .5 mechanical pencil lead.

Wick smiled, relieved that he wouldn't have to struggle with the enormous pencil any longer. Getting down on his knees, he started to write - trying to make sure the letters were big enough that Taryn could read it. He rather liked to write, he just wasn't all that good at it. Or at spelling, for that matter.

I pushed his papers on the floor a couple times and went throu some picshers in his wallit. He almost skwished me. I said I was sory but he wouldn't let me go. So I gave him a nightmare. It didn't work ether. He put me in a tank. Then he put the spell on me.

He stopped, and shook his wrists a little. Writing was hard work, with or without a proper-sized pencil.

Not that Taryn knows this, but Wick skipped the part where he broke Alexander's pen. Probably because it was too much to write, I suppose.

"... wow. I guess you won't be bothering this guy again, then, huh?" And she'll leave unsaid the 'sounds like you deserved something, though maybe silence wasn't it.' "He almost squished you? You're okay though, right?"

He didn't deserve to be squished, whatever he'd done. (For one thing, he was too cute to be flattened, no matter how much of a pain he could be.)

Won't bother him. Want to, tho. He was mean.

Wick was having serious thoughts about somehow getting Alexander back for silencing him - and for nearly squishing him, and for putting him in a tank - but really didn't dare risk it. He put the 0.5 lead to the paper again.

Yes. I'm OK.

He was physically okay, yes. But besides that - it was a good thing he was writing instead of speaking. It would have been pretty obvious that he was lying if he'd said it out loud.

"You sure?" She remembers how scared he'd been when she'd pretended to throw him, and she doesn't think almost being squashed would be any less frightening.

And, completely on impulse, she scoops him up again and gives him one of those little cuddles that you give to kittens or puppies or other such cuter than they should be allowed to be animals.

"I'm glad he didn't squish you," she told him as she put him down.

Wick was kind of surprised at being picked up, out of the blue like that, but found that he really didn't mind. She was only trying to be nice. He could use a little more 'nice', considering the way things had been going lately. He smiled up at her - a faint smile, but a sincere one, nonetheless.
He began scrawling on the paper again. I'm glad he didn't skwish me too. He almost did. I was scared he would.

"Well, he didn't. How'd you get out of the tank?" It's a good story. Taryn likes stories...

She ruffled his hair with one finger, a gesture that she used to do with her little brother--only she used her whole hand, which would knock Wick off the bed--and smiled.

Fortunately, Alexander isn't one of her professors.

Violet got me out. The guy is her english teecher. She came in and saw me, and got him to let her take me. That was when he made me be quiet.

He sighed - silently, of course - and wrote down a few last words.

Violets very mad at me.

"Aww..." She patted his head again. "Does she know what happened?" As in, does she know about the almost squishing part? Obviously she knows about the rest of it, since it's the kind of thing that would make her mad at him.

And, wow, an English prof at Keaton knew magic. Obviously. Was there anyone in this crazy town who didn't know about the stuff?

Wick looked sadly at the page, and scribbled, No. But I think she hates me. She doesn't often stay mad for long, but she still is. He underlined the last word with two furious swipes, and then put down the lead, signifying that he didn't want to 'talk' about it anymore.

"Oh..." She picked him up again and gave him another one of those cuddling sorts of things. He seemed to need it. Poor little guy...

Wonder if he'll learn that some pranks are better left unplayed, after this...

"You could stay here again tonight, if you wanted. Still have that scarf." If Violet was that upset with him, she probably wouldn't want him around for a little while. Then again, if she decided that she was worried about him, it would show him that she didn't hate him.

And he'd still be safe overnight.

Wick sniffled - or would have, if he could - and nodded. He didn't really want to go back home tonight. He felt as if he didn't want to go back at all. He sort of tumbled into the cuddle, closing his eyes. He felt certain that Violet wouldn't notice if he were to suddenly disappear.

In reality, Violet would notice. About a day or so later probably. Wick came and went as he wished, and she didn't have the time to keep an eye on him. He always insisted he wasn't her responsibility, anyway.

She just held him. He seemed to need it.

As far as she could tell, Violet had a similar feeling towards Wick as she herself did. He was a cute kid, when he wasn't being annoying, and the rest of the time he was like an annoying little brother.

He reminded her of James. And made her miss the little monster. Which was odd, because usually she reveled in the peace and quiet.

Wick opened his eyes, but had difficulty keeping them that way. His eyelids drooped slowly closed again. Ordinarily, he was brimming over with energy. The trip up the stairs to Taryn's room usually wouldn't have troubled him at all. However, he still hadn't quite regained all his strength after that little trick he pulled on Alexander - what with the nightmare illusion and all that. It really did take a lot out of him, because the kind of power required for those kind of spells wasn't exactly his to use.

He gave a silent yawn, head nodding a little. If he got any more comfortable, he was going to fall asleep.

Since it required at least one hand to hold Wick, and she didn't want to put him down, she pulled one of her many books off the shelf--which was oh so conveniently placed by her bed--and flipped it open to a random spot. (It was one that she had read a thousand times, or so it seemed, before, and she could literally start reading anywhere and not be lost.)

She settled back onto her pillow.

Is it strange that she thought of this as remarkably normal, despite the fact that there was a seven inch tall faery in one hand?

Blink.

Wick realized he wouldn't be able to stay awake. And he'd really prefer to fall asleep in some dark corner somewhere, but... he didn't really see the harm in just staying where he was at the moment. Taryn wouldn't let anything bad happen to him.
Giving another silent yawn, he curled himself into a ball, wrapping his arms around himself and closing his eyes. The gloomy, sad look he'd been wearing upon arriving at Taryn's room was now only there in a hint of a frown.

Sometime over the course of the evening, Taryn had deposited Wick on that little scarf again, tucking him behind one of her picture frames and going to bed herself.

And now it was morning, and she was waking up. Yawn.

Tank top and cut off dance pants, mussed hair...

"Morning, sleepy head." Funny how it didn't bother her that Wick was a boy who'd shared her room. It would have, with any other male.

The little faery sat up, rubbing his eyes. He looked confused for a moment, but then he remembered how he'd gotten here. And he didn't look quite so confused any more. He didn't remember being put to bed, but that didn't matter so much. At least he knew where he was.

Wick got up, and stretched. Then he blinked sleepily at Taryn, and waved at her, by way of a greeting.

"Sleep well?"

No, she hadn't forgotten that he can't talk right now. It was a simple yes or no question, so he could answer with a nod or a shake of his head. And that was probably going to be the extent of their communication for at least a little while, unless he decided that he wanted to write some more.

She was thinking about calling Violet sometime soon, actually. But she wasn't going to mention that to Wick.

Wick nodded in reply to her question, with a drowsy smile on his face. He'd slept very well, actually. At the moment, Violet was the last thing on his mind (purposely so), and he wouldn't be all that enthused to find out that Taryn was thinking of calling her.

Well, that was why Taryn wasn't going to mention it to him. Truthfully, she imagined that Violet would notice Wick's absence sometime soon, and she didn't want the other girl to worry...

Wick didn't seem to be the kind of guy who could take care of himself as well as he probably thought he could. But that's beside the point.

"Hungry?"

Wick had to think a moment about that one. He really couldn't look after himself as well as he thought he could - this included eating, His eating habits were governed mainly by memory - if he could remember he was hungry, he'd eat.

After a long moment, Wick nodded. Yep. Hungry.

His eating habits remind me of mine, says the author.

Taryn's were similar, but she did have plenty of food floating around in her room (much of it her roommate's, but the other girl didn't mind sharing.) and she did eat somewhat.

The question was what parts of it would be possible to break down into small enough parts to feed Wick without making an enormous mess.

"Let's see what I've got, then."

He sat down, crossing his legs, and waited patiently. Probably one of the few times he was ever patient about anything.

Wick generally ate pretty much anything. One would think that a faery who often acted like a child would be fussy about what he ate, but he wasn't.
That's not to say he doesn't have favorites, but he's altogether unconcerned about what he puts into himself. As long as it won't cause internal bleeding, he'll probably eat it.

Taryn finally decided on crackers, since those were the only things that were already in small portions, but she couldn't figure out how to give him anything to drink with them. Oh well.

"Here ya go."

She herself settled for more crackers and, don't think it's strange, pudding. Because they make a good combination, for some reason.