[ D. Gray-man ] August

[murdering]

+ Title: August

+ Fandom: D. Gray-man

+ Characters: Tyki Mikk, Rhode Kamelot, Cyril Kamelot, Wisely Kamelot

+ Rating: E

+ Word Count: 1384

+ Author's Notes: A little piece for ironfist , involving hobo!Tyki and Rhode.

Tyki could smell the first train of the day long after it left the station; coal smoke and the tang of oiled metal lingered in the air, settling over the well-kept people rushing to reach their platform or leave the building. It was the last day of the Season, and plenty of the Society folk were returning to their lovely country manors today. Their fine suits and dresses made for a colorful crowd, glowing with cleanliness as they stood upon the dirtied wooden planks of the station floor.

He took a long, slow inhale of his cigarette- one of the high-quality smokes he'd filched from his brother's desk drawer before he'd left- as he surveyed the scene. He'd shed his fine attire for the last time in the early hours of the morning, pulling out his dilapidated bag and packing the few things he'd ever need on the road. He cut his hair with a pair of shears, leaving the long locks tied in their bow and laid out upon the dresser. Perhaps Rhode would enjoy it; perhaps she'd throw a fit and break something expensive and difficult for her father to replace. He didn't quite care, either way.

It was rather interesting, to be so completely unrecognized in a sea of familiar faces. Only a few nights before, he'd danced with that duke's daughter. Several evenings prior to that, he'd happily obliged that baron's niece when she'd approached him with less than honorable intentions. Truly, deflowering the ingenue among the nobility was one of the few things he enjoyed about the Season. The flirting, the court games, the not-so-subtle urgings that he actually deem one worthy of an official courting, however...

Well.

There was a reason he could only stand six months of this life at a time.

Closing his eyes, Tyki leaned his head back against the wall, taking a long moment to savor the taste of his fine tobacco smoke and his freedom. Soon, soon, he would be in Dorset, and then on a ship, ready to meet his comrades in the fine land of France. Perhaps Eaze had grown a few inches; that kid was going to be like a weed, soon, and Tyki wouldn't be able to pick him up and carry him around anymore. It was really too bad for a smart kid like that, growing up without a voice in a world like this...

"At least," the voice cut through his daydreams, "he has an excuse for not saying his goodbyes."

Tyki recognized her before he even opened his eyes; there was no other girl who would be able to hear his thoughts, and the soft anger in her tone was unmistakable. Even so, he smiled at the sight of Rhode, in her light blue dress and navy collar, straw hat perched neatly on her head and tied beneath her chin with a lovely bow. She stood before the bench, a reticule in hand and an embittered shine to her eyes.

"I didn't want to wake you up." It was true, though not entirely accurate. Tyki disliked saying his farewells to his family; despite the fact that they all annoyed him to near insanity, they always managed to instill some sense of guilt in him for leaving their fold. Perhaps it was familial love that made him hesitate at the door, or the thought of long nights beside the fire with Rhode in his lap and Cyril sharing a decanter of whiskey with him, discussing nothing but silly women and idiotic men.

Or, perhaps, it was the big, blue eyes he was looking at right now.

Rhode moved to sit on the bench beside him, ignoring the odd glances they were getting from the passersby. If Tyki had seen such a scene, he would have laughed-- A little British lady seated next to a dirty, disheveled vagrant. Drawing attention because of the contrast, however, was less than amusing.

"Your father's going to throw a fit if he sees you here," Tyki remarked, sighing a cloud of smoke into the air. "Not to mention the Earl." 

"Really, Tyki." She scoffed, swinging her legs restlessly. "What do you imagine they'll do to me?"

"Whine at you for a quarter hour and buy you a new poppet, like the miserable excuse for a father Cyril is." Tap, tap, tapping the ash from the end of the cigarette, he glanced up to the clock above the platform. His train was due in ten minutes. As another train pulled out of the station, he caught a glance of familiar blonde hair in awkward suiting, accompanied by the tall couple he reluctantly called his brother and sister-in-law.

Rhode followed his gaze, bringing a hand up to adjust the brim of her hat. "We're going back today. Stupidly long trip by train followed by a stupidly long trip by carriage."

"Wisely's going to drive your father up the walls, I'd bet, so long as you don't beat him to it." 

She shrugged, watching as Cyril began to search the crowd for her little straw hat. "You can't know if you don't come along." 

"Rhode..." He started, tone warning.

"I'm not." Her tone was short, irritation apparent. "I know you'd rather be with your silly friends than us."  

Tyki wasn't quite certain why, but her petulance tugged ever so slightly at his heart. After a long moment, he leaned forward, catching her beneath the chin with his fingers and turning her face to look into her eyes.

"You know better than that. I know you know better than that." He smiled softly, meeting her glare with an affectionate gaze over the top of his thick glasses. "What've I always told you about this?" 

Rhode hesitated, considering how easy it would be to refuse to answer before finally responding. "Your two sides are... what makes it interesting."

"That's right. And if I stayed with the family all year 'round, and had to live under your father's roof, I'd go stark raving mad. I'd end up throttling the old man over his miserable excuse for a poker game and dumping him in the old fishpond." 

The glare was taking much more effort for her to hold, now, and the corners of her mouth twitched ever so slightly with suppressed laughter. Tyki released her chin, placing his hand on top of her hat and leaning forward to rest his other arm on his knee.

"I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye to you this morning, so I'll say it now. You behave, this winter. Don't hurt the twins-- or Wisely-- too badly when you get into a row. Don't let Cyril spoil you too badly. Make sure you don't upset Tricia; you know how poor her health gets in the cold." 

He paused, waiting for Rhode to nod her understanding before he continued.

"You and me, we're the smart ones in this family. We've got to make sure the rest of them don't do something stupid. So while I'm gone, it's up to you to take care of them. Do you think you can manage?" 

When she finally smiled, Tyki couldn't quite suppress a laugh. She enjoyed this domestic little game so much, with her youthful little face and old, old soul.

"That's my girl." 

Suddenly, Cyril Kamelot was towering over them. Tyki leaned in, brushing an affectionate kiss across Rhode's brow before the older man scooped her up.

"Really, Rhode! What have I told you about talking to strange men!" His voice boomed across the platform, loud and dramatic as always. "You've got no ideas what kind of plagues he could be carrying around." 

Tyki scoffed as his elder brother turned to walk away, kicking back on the bench and crossing one leg over the other.

"No need to be rude, Cyril. I bathed last night, just like you." 

Cyril paused, adjusting his grip on Rhode as she wrapped her arms around his neck. When he replied, his voice was far quieter, almost inaudible; Tyki was shocked he was capable of such low tones every time he heard them.

"We'll be expecting you in February, brother."

Tyki chuckled, waving the hand holding his cigarette as the pair retreated across the platform.

Rhode watched him, chin resting on her father's shoulder, until a man blocked her view. When he moved, there was nothing on the bench at all--

Just a soft cloud of smoke in the air where Tyki had been sitting moments before.