The sound of hissing was slowly but surely being coupled with growing giggles from the upstairs room. Artifex could hear two voices babbling something. Each word “spoken,” at least relatively so, was followed by the hissing and growling of Francis. And neither side appeared ready to give ground.

“Right here!” Sonata said, pulling the young man into the first room on the left.

The door had been left open. A quick look around revealed that this was a child’s room; no, it was two children’s’ room. A blue rug with several rocketship patterns ran down the length of the floor, all the way to two cribs that were empty. Several toys, including a stack of wooden blocks, were strewn about, tossed aside without rhyme or reason.

Artifex’s eyes fell to the dresser, where, at its base, he found Francis. The cat’s fur stood on end, while he bared his teeth and hissed. The young man then turned his head, and saw what put Francis on edge.

They were obviously twins, as Pinkie had said. One, the boy, had brown hair; the other, his sister, had a flowing orange. The pair wore identical shirts; a strange choice, since it was counteracted by the differing appearances. They had a somewhat pudgy appearance, but weren’t too tiny. Beside them was a jar of peanut butter, opened and armed.

Had he not been so entranced by the view of his angry cat and the oblivious twins, Artifex might have laughed. Instead, he opted for a sigh that escaped through his nose.

“These are Pound and Pumpkin Cake?” he asked Sonata.

“Yup. They’re pretty cute, aren’t they?”

He saw them giggle, then stick their hands in the peanut butter. He supposed that, as a cat, the sight would indeed be somewhat terrifying. “I guess.”

They noticed them standing there. Francis didn’t relax, while Pound and Pumpkin babbled incoherently, waving their peanut-butter-covered hands.

“Anyway, we’d better stop them before anyone gets hurt.” She leaned into him, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll grab Francis and make a run for it, while you distract the twins. Sound good?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Have you tried asking them not to put peanut butter on my cat?”

“… Do you really think that might work?”

“It’s worth a try.” That, and I don’t think I want to risk getting peanut butter on my person.

Sonata nodded. “Okay.” She turned to the twins. “Uh, Pound, Pumpkin?” They babbled in response, still giggling. “Could you, um, maybe, not put peanut butter on the cat?”

Pound cocked his head, as if confused. He then faced his sister, and spoke something incomprehensible. Pumpkin said something in return, making the both of them let out high-pitched laughs. They turned back to Sonata and Artifex, wearing disarmingly innocent grins.

“Uh, what’s that mean?” Sonata asked.

The twins dunked their hands in the jar again, scooping out a good amount.

“I think… they don’t want to negotiate,” Artifex muttered.

Francis let out a loud meow, and immediately bolted from the room. Artifex grabbed Sonata’s hand and did the same, just as the twins let loose a barrage of creamy peanut butter. The butter hit where they had stood; had they been there a moment longer, their clothes would have turned to a stench-filled town.

Upon their exit, though, Francis accidentally got in their way. While he managed to slip out unscathed, Artifex tripped over his pet, letting out a surprised yell. Sonata, still attached to him, tripped as well. Both of them crashed into the opposite wall with a loud smack.

“Ugh…” Artifex rubbed his head. “Of course that had to happen.”

Sonata murmured something, and Artifex realized that her face was buried in his chest. A blush engulfed his face.

She raised her head, bleary-eyed. She appeared not to have noticed the compromising position they were in. “Oh, hi, Artifex. You look particularly double-headed today.”

“Sonata…”

“Eek!”

Both of them turned to the room down the hall where the screech originated. It had been surprisingly high in tone, that Artifex thought it had to be Fluttershy. His initial guess was rendered incorrect once a flurry of words erupted from the same room.

“Oh, dear! Mr. Cake, are you alright?”

“Yes, dear, are you okay?”

The first voice Artifex recognized as being Fluttershy’s. And based on that context, the second voice had to be Mrs. Cake herself.

Mr. Cake screamed?

“Uh-uh-I-I’m fine, dear, thank you,” Mr. Cake said, his voice slightly muffled by the door. “Just startled, that’s all.”

“Well, I don’t blame you!” Mrs. Cake responded. “That cat just about scared me just as much!”

“Oh, I don’t think he meant to startle anyone,” came Fluttershy’s soothing voice. “Isn’t that right, little one?”

While the door muffled a good amount of the noise, Artifex could guess that Francis meowed something in response. He rolled his eyes; of course that cat would try and appear all innocent-like.

“Why did he run in here in the first place?” Mrs. Cake asked.

“Maybe something startled him. The twins, perhaps?” Fluttershy responded. “Speaking of which, I should go check up on them.”

“We’ll go, too,” said Mr. Cake. “We have to say goodbye to them and everyone, don’t we, dear?”

“Of course, Carrot,” Mrs. Cake said with a light laugh.

Artifex’s eyes widened. “Oh, shoot… Sonata! They’re coming!”

“Hmm? Yes, they are. So?”

“So…” He gestured at himself, then at her, then at the both of them. “It’s just that…”

“That?”

“Sonata, please, you cannot be this dense—”

“Of course not! ‘This’ has no density, since it’s only a word! Unless you count the air being released when saying it as having a density…”

“Eep!”

Now it had been Fluttershy who had yelped. Flicking his head, Artifex saw the girl at the end of the hall. Her hands were over her mouth, while Francis was at her feet. Behind them were Mr. and Mrs. Cake, wearing equally shocked expressions.

“Oh! Hi, guys!” Sonata said, waving. “Did you come to say goodbye?”

“O-o-oh, y-yes,” Fluttershy stammered. “J-just d-d-didn’t want t-to interrupt o-or anything!” Her butterscotch skin was quickly turning to a tomato red.

“Interrupt what?” Sonata asked, cocking her head. The movement caused her hair to fly into Artifex’s face, muffling his frustrated cry.

Mrs. Cake cleared her throat. “Now, I’m not one to judge what a person does with their… significant other, but… could you perhaps do this somewhere else? Preferably not in front of the babies’ room?”

“Do what? Trip?”

Mrs. Cake turned to Fluttershy. “I’m afraid I don’t know that… expression.”

Fluttershy meeped and hid behind her long hair.

Artifex sighed. He could hear the chortles of the twins coming from the room, then a low snickering from Francis.. Yeah… laugh it up, you three.

Mrs. Cake could barely contain herself. Laughter escaped between breaths as she brought a hand up to her face to fan herself. “Oh, but you must understand, dear, from where we were standing, it looked like—”

“Like we were doing something dirty,” Artifex grumbled, holding an ice pack to his head. The fall had raised a bump on his head that needed proper soothing.

“Oh, and you weren’t?” she teased.

He groaned. “Please spare me, Mrs. Cake. An entire class already thought that Sonata and I were dating; I don’t need anyone throwing more fuel to that fire!”

Mrs. Cake giggled. “Alright, dear, I’ll stop. But you have to admit, the way you two were positioned—”

“Yes, Sonata has a strange talent for that, doesn’t she?” Artifex mumbled, turning the look at the ex-Siren. Though she was just as embarrassed as he was once everything was explained, she seemed a little calmer now. It helped that Francis was by her, letting her stroke him while Fluttershy took care of the bump on her head.

Catching him looking, Sonata waved; Artifex waved back.

“You can’t get mad at her, can you?” Mr. Cake said.

Artifex shook his head. “I guess not.”

The man smiled. “Well, that’s just sweet.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed his wife. “A lot of girls like that kind of boy; the one who can forgive small mistakes like that!”

Artifex clutched his head with both of his hands. “God, you two are such parents…”

“Well, that is true, dear,” Mrs. Cake responded with a wink.

Francis, satisfied that he had comforted Sonata, decided to do the same for Artifex. He hopped off of the girl’s lap (to both her and Fluttershy’s dismay) and onto Artifex’s, settling in comfortable between his legs. A soft purr began to rise out of him.

The irritation from before lifted; Artifex, on a primal instinct, reached out and began to pet his cat, letting his fingers comb through the soft fur.

“He’s very well-behaved, all things considered,” Fluttershy said. Artifex noticed she had a somewhat disappointed look on her face; no doubt she wanted to pet Francis herself.

The boy nodded, then beckoned the shy girl over with a jerk of his head. “Well, he’s had a good while to learn the rules around here,” he said. “Believe me, he wasn’t like this when we first met.”

“Oh? That seems so hard to believe,” Fluttershy said, gingerly adding her own hand to the petting. Francis responded positively, letting out a yawn, blinking, then rubbing his face in Artifex’s leg. “I mean, sure, he ran into here without warning, but it’s hard for me to see anything but a gentle cat here. You must have trained him very well.”

Artifex shrugged. “Trained? I wouldn’t say I trained him. More like… we reached an agreement.”

“What kind of agreement?” Sonata asked, coming over and sitting next to the boy. Since there wasn’t enough room on Francis for another hand, she contented herself with placing them in her lap, clasped together.

“The house rules, essentially.” Artifex counted off his fingers. “One: Do not tear up the couch. Two: Do not attack the mailman. Three: Do not scuff up any non-carpeted floors.”

“The second one sounds like something a dog would do.”

“Well, Francis is a dog in some ways.”

The cat raised his head, murmured an annoyed growl, then placed his head back down.

“You know it’s true,” Artifex said to his pet.

Francis only meowed into his leg in reply, causing a ticklish vibration to travel up his leg. The young man grunted, shifting slightly in reaction to the strange feeling.

“I’ll just be a second,” said suddenly Mrs. Cake. “Carrot? Could you come help me?”

“Sure thing, Cup,” Mr. Cake said. The two bakery owners walked away, leaving Artifex alone with the girls and the cat.

A period of silence fell before them. Yet it did not leave much of an empty husk behind; rather, it was a peaceful silence, one that Artifex wanted not to break or be broken. His fingers rubbed against Francis’s skin, matched by Fluttershy’s gentle petting, as Sonata gazed longingly at them. Catching the look, Artifex shifted slightly, allowing Sonata a chance to start petting the cat as soon as Artifex himself had ceased.

After a moment of thinking, Artifex scooped Francis up, careful not to disturb him. At first, both Fluttershy and Sonata gave him confused looks, thinking that they had done something wrong. Their confusion compounded as the young man set the cat down upon the space between them. With a wave of his hand, he signaled that they could continue petting. Hesitant as they were, it was only after the wanting purrs from Francis arose that they finally did move back to the previous actions.

Artifex turned away. He knew that while they were busy, their eyes—and even Francis’s—were trained on him. No doubt were they curious as to the sudden. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure either. He couldn’t sit still, though, that much he knew. It wasn’t a physical need, but something deeper within him.

A winding, whining, and worrying wyvern of a walkway wove intricate spools of thought within his mind. He walked over to the window, and stared outward, eyes diligently crossing the horizontal lines to the edge of the world. It wasn’t Manehattan’s skyline, nor was it Manehattan’s skyscrapers, that rose up and grew out.

Yet he could not deny the strange feeling that simply looking outside brought him. It was like he was a child again.

“Artifex?” Fluttershy called, suddenly close. “Are you okay?”

“You’re acting really weird,” Sonata said, also having gotten up. “Is something wrong?”

He shook his head. “I’m not sure. I just feel… funny.”

“You feel funny? Do we need to call a doctor?”

“No, not that kind of funny, Sonata.” Turning back to them, his eyes jumped from the two, then lost themselves on an unfocused background. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Oh… well, is there anything we can do to… um… help you not feel this way?” Fluttershy asked, tilting her head.

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. But don’t worry. It’s just… old feelings cropping up in unwanted places.”

He rested both of his hands on the crook of the cane, gazing down at the floor. Old feelings indeed, he reflected. How true that statement was.

He snapped his head up once he heard the approaching footsteps of the Cakes. “Now, Pound, dear,” he heard Mrs. Cake chide, “you know better than to plaster peanut butter on the nice cat!”

“Ga-goo!” Pound responded, following up with a clapping sound.

Once the family of four entered the doorway, Artifex could see that they had cleaned up the twins nicely. No longer was brown batter on their hands. Breathing in, he detected a faint, soapy smell; perhaps they had had a quick bath, though he couldn’t remember hearing anything of the sort.

“Oh! You’re all still here! Thank you for watching our stuff!” Mrs. Cake said.

Fluttershy offered a simple nod. “It wasn’t a problem, Mrs. Cake.”

“Right, right…” She fixated an unreadable gaze on Artifex. “Okay, Pound, Pumpkin. We’re just going to set you down for just one moment.”

“Uh, are you sure that’s a good idea, dear?” Mr. Cake asked. Even as he clutched his daughter in a firm grip, nervous drips of sweat pooled down his face. “I-I mean, you know how they can get.”

“It’ll be fine, Carrot,” Mrs. Cake assured him with a smile. “It’ll only be a moment, after all.”

She placed Pound on the floor, right in front of Artifex, and Mr. Cake did the same with Pumpkin. Francis shot his eyes open and hissed, hiding behind Sonata. The twins giggled, but other than that paid little attention to him.

“Right. Okay, let’s see,” Mrs. Cake murmured. She opened up one of the travel cases. “We’ve our clothes, about three days’ worth…”

“Three days?” asked Fluttershy, getting up to help them organize. “Are you sure that’s enough?”

“It should be,” said Mr. Cake. “We’re only taking a short vacation, after all.”

“Mmhmm!” Mrs. Cake affirmed. “Now, then, what else? Oh, right…”

As they began making their rounds, inspecting each item they needed, Pound and Pumpkin began to slowly approach Artifex. He watched them with slight unease, not daring to move. His eyes flicked to Sonata, intended on asking for her assistance; but she was busy, too, having now gotten up and helping the Cakes, Francis still with her.

Artifex looked back at the twins, not sure how to react. They stopped, staring up at him, before resuming their crawling. He looked back at the Cakes, then back to the twins. How best to go about this?

No answer arrived, so he fell back on his instincts. He averted his gazed, hoping that his indifference would ward away the toddlers.

But though he could not see them directly, he could hear them. Pound and Pumpkin began “talking” to each other; and judging by their tone of voice, they were confused as to the sudden change in his attitude. Their voices, however, grew closer and closer, as did their bodies.

All of a sudden, he was aware of a light tapping right beneath him. His hands lightly jolted at the sudden movement, and he glanced down.

Pumpkin’s light-yellow hand was entertaining itself by raining a few, miniscule blows upon his cane. She giggled, delighted at the sound it made, even though to Artifex it sounded much duller. She pat, slapped, poked, and prodded a little longer, before looking up and cooing in beckoning. Her brother sat next to her, also letting out an oddly satisfied coo.

Artifex looked at them in confusion. Their hands grasped and clenched at nothing; their eyes, wide and marvelous, looked to him with want. But what did they want?

On a hunch, he slowly extended the cane towards them, expecting a happy coo. Instead, they shook their heads, synchronized,. Pleading tears began to pool.

Artifex had on his own, more subtler pleading look. “What is it?” he murmured softly, almost as if he was speaking to himself. “What is it that you want?”

Without words to speak with, Pumpkin and Pound opted for a simpler form of communication. For a moment, they struggled, their arms and hands still wiggling without purpose. Pumpkin let out a mildly frustrated sigh as her fingers twitched and contorted. For a second, they pulled back and left one up, in an unintentionally vulgar gesture. She, just as much as Artifex, was bewildered at the display, and retracted her head. She turned to her brother and goo-goo’d something. Pound responded with a gurgle.

With their attention off of him, Artifex was left without much of an inkling on what to do next. He looked back up to where Fluttershy and the others stood. The shy girl turned to one of the suitcases, then saw the young man out of the corner of her eye. Their gazes locked; hers, filled with a confused why, and his with confounded how.

Her gaze moved down to the twins. He saw her begin to piece together the puzzle. He tried to steel himself, waiting impatiently for her to give a solution.

Fluttershy’s mouth opened.

“Excuse me, Fluttershy?” came Mrs. Cake’s voice. “Could you check to make sure we have all our toiletries?”

“O-oh?” Fluttershy sharply turned around. “O-oh, yes. I’ll go do that.”

She began to walk away, but before leaving the room, looked back at Artifex. All she could do was offer an apologetic shrug. He met it with a carefully composed, stony face, masking his heaving sigh.

So much for an easy answer, he thought. He looked back at the twins. They appeared to be arguing over something, judging by their excited babble and animated waves. Artifex considered stepping in to act as act as a mediator; then he stopped himself, once he realized he’d be little help.

He fell back into the sport of the spectator, choosing to let the twins sort out their differences on their own terms.

“Gah!”

“Goo-goo, ga, aah.”

“Aaah! Flubaba!”

“Aha.”

Terms, of course, being the relative word.

In a way, it was almost endearing to hear the twins speak their strange language. It was unique to them, and no one else could understand. Was that tragic, or special?

Artifex’s thoughts turned to the future. The language wouldn’t stay, of course. The twins would learn how to properly speak, and they’d forget how to babble incoherently. They’d forget, the parents might not, but it’d still be a lost ability. Did that mean that it was a needless function, if it was only going to be replaced?

But they’re close, aren’t they? This temporary language won’t lessen their bond, even after it’s gone.

“Mm-aa.”

His eyes snapped to Pumpkin. She stared back, slightly wobbling her body. She raised her left arm and, through considerable effort, curled in her thumb and the end three fingers, leaving the index as the remaining one.

Pound clapped happily.

Artifex only stared at Pumpkin. Wordlessly, he followed her finger down to the middle of his chest. It couldn’t be a mistake. She was pointing at him.

He looked back up at her, tightening his jaw. She cocked her head, but nevertheless continued to point.

“… Me?”

She nodded, and goo-goo’d happily.

Pound scooted a bit closer to be next to his sister. Together, they raised their arms expectantly.

Artifex did not let up his gaze as he, slowly and steadily, brought his body down to the floor. His cane lay poised in front of him as he sat down. The twins clapped giddily, while Artifex’s jaw loosened up.

“Hello,” he said, speaking in gentle tones, the pain in his leg momentarily vanishing. “My name is Artifex Frost.”

“Ar-fe-fo,” said Pumpkin.

His lips ever so slightly tingled. “Close enough. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you.”

Mrs. Cake watched the three from afar, a gentle smile on her face. With Fluttershy and Pinkie busy doing their best to check to make sure everything was ready, she was left alone at the far end of the room. Besides herself was a feeling of satisfaction for her work.

Mr. Cake stuck his head in, and saw his wife watching the young man and two babies play. He walked up next to her, rubbing his chin. “Um, dear?”

“Yes, Carrot?”

“Well, I don’t mean to sound assumptious, but… you called Fluttershy back just to interrupt whatever Artifex was going to ask, didn’t you?”

She giggled. “Oh, you know me too well, Carrot. Yes, it’s true.”

He rocked on his toes, gaze turned towards the young man. Mrs. Cake continued watching. She noted that the young man’s disturbed frown had vanished. Even as he continued to speak softly and move stiffly with the young ones, his thin lips were stretched into an unconsciously warming smile.

She had heard enough from Pinkie to know that Artifex wasn’t a “big smiler.” But when he did, when something tickled his fancy, made him laugh, made him light up like the autumn’s sky, his smile was all the more worth seeing.

She saw her husband open her mouth. She swatted him. “Shh! Don’t ruin the moment!” Carrot promptly shut his jaw.

They continued to watch. Artifex, despite being a complete stranger, managed to handle the twins well. Mrs. Cake doubted he had any experience, yet watching him talk to, and indulge in, the children, made her think otherwise. Maybe it’s a gift from another life, she wondered.

“Can I ask just one thing?” Mr. Cake asked.

Mrs. Cake responded, “Yes, you can.”

“Why’d you do it?”

At first, she didn’t answer. Mr. Cake hadn’t turned his head to search her. Both of them continued to watch the three children.

Artifex stumbled ever so slightly as Pound pushed into him with a hug. He fell onto his back, a slightly pained expression on his face. It was quickly replaced with one of horror; his sleeve had rolled up, revealing his scars. Pumpkin crawled onto him, intending a squeeze, but saw his look. She babbled, concerned, then saw where his eyes pointed.

Artifex attempted to assuage her concern with a nervous laugh, but Pumpkin was more receptive than she let out—Mrs. Cake knew. So she instead crawled over to his arm, and just as he tried to pull his sleeve down, she held back on the sleeve.

She mirrored what her mother would do whenever she got a cut. She held up the arm and gave it a wet kiss, thinking that the gesture would heal all wounds. It certainly made hers feel better; why wouldn’t it work here?

She looked back at Artifex, smiling toothily. Mrs. Cake already guessed her excited babble, and translated it in her head: There! See? All better!

Suddenly, the red-orange-haired girl vanished under a wave of arms, and Artifex was hunched over, careful not to hurt the girl. She squirmed, but stopped resisting, once she registered the familiar feeling of arms across her hugging her close. As she saw her brother climb up on Artifex’s shoulder, she giggled happily, and wrapped her own arms around the boy.

His face hid behind Pumpkin’s red hair, but Mrs. Cake somehow knew that his eyes were closed, and that he was breathing softly. Why he was acting this way didn’t matter; what Pumpkin had done was significant, and that was all she needed as an explanation.

Mrs. Cake’s smile doubled in warmth, and she tilted her head, letting out a sigh. “Because,” she finally said, answering her husband’s question, “he needed this.”

Author's Notes:

As it so happens, I am a horrible updater. It's hard to keep a good schedule going when you're busy with writing the next chapter, another project, school, etc. But that's not much of an excuse. I can't promise a constant stream of updates, but I'm hoping to at least get through Day Five before the end of October. Here's to hoping for that.