( bee has half a mind to remind sanji she isn't a little baby anymore, but she bites her tongue and tucks into him instead, toeing off her shoes on the opposite side of the bench. why? well, bee has been starved of affection long enough to know there's nothing more fleeting than the presence of someone in your life. she knows what's going to come out of sanji — something small and vulnerable and innocent, waiting to be loved. she knows sanji too. that the call to love something willing and needy is too great to overlook. bee knows it's a nasty, evil thing inside her that makes her hate something that might take sanji away from her, much as she knows she can't very well insist a parent abandon their young just because hers had. the reality of it is, she has no real staked claim on sanji. she has a father — has three, even. sanji is allowed to make his own family, and he's allowed to love them more.
the cuddle is, then, a marker of inevitability. like the world works in cycles, so do people — people always leave her, and so it is probably the last time. bee will treasure it. )
Mm.
( tiny hands lay over sanji's, head thumped back on his chest. she tries to tilt her head back far enough to look at him, but the angle isn't right, so she looks down at his ringed fingers instead, twisting one of them about his knuckle. )
I was born to Withywoods Manor, the place of my youth. It is an old, old castle — much of it I had never seen, as it was closed off, without use. Anyway, once my Da showed me a secret passage in his study, like a den for a bear cub. He gave it to me, to make my own, to watch him while he worked in solitude. It was the best gift I have ever been given. ( she turns her lips up awkwardly in a smile. ) After Ma died, I do believe my father struggled with me. He did not know what he was meant to do, I think, and neglected me for awhile. But when he realized his mistake, he took it upon himself to treat me like a little princess! Ma never would have spoiled me so. We went to market in Oaksbywater for Winterfest, and he bought me all manner of things I never asked for — hot chestnuts and a new saddle for my horse, Prissy, with little bees carved on the flaps, and a leather belt and a bracelet and a cake. He even let me buy gifts for my lady's maid, Careful, and our steward, Revel. Best of all was the seashell seller, as I had never been to the sea before, nor seen something so beautiful. That was the best day I have ever had, truly.
( not because of the gifts, really, but because she was rich with her father's sometimes wayward and unfocused affection. at least — until he left her. fumbling, she reaches into the pocket of her overalls at the center of her chest, and pulls out a handkerchief (this time embroidered with a fox) tied at the crosswise corners, a bounty sitting in the pouch it made. she sets it on the table in front of them, before sinking back into sanji's hug. )
You have probably seen a lot of seashells. I did not consider that. Shanks helped me find them — I was not sure what you would like for your birthday. ( quietly, ) Are all your memories of your father awful?
[ it's hard to tell, from bee's sweetly meandering story, what exactly the deal with her father was. sanji understands being unwanted — it's not that. or not exactly that, at least not in the way sanji knows it. there's love there, and a desire to be loved, along with what he thinks might be a fundamental lack of knowledge on how to raise a child, much less a child like bee.
he might have that in common with her father. after all, his memories of his mother are fading, and everything he learned from zeff, he learned in the same way someone might suffer a traumatic brain injury. he doesn't want his child to turn out to be a shithead like him.
if whatever is inside of him is even... that. he feels more like a freak than anything else, with nothing in this world making sense except for hunger and pain on most days. but then there are the days with nami’s smile and zoro’s warmth — and this. bee, pressed so soft and tight against him that he feels like she’s been his all along. ]
Will you go to the town over with me? A day for just the two of us. [ it’s not anyone’s fault that he feels suffocated by all the careful attention to his health. he just isn’t used to it. ] We can shop for our own chestnuts and jewelry and sweets. And it’s warm enough to look for more shells. We’ll fill up a jar with our best ones.
[ he sifts through the handkerchief, fingering a shell bleached the pale color of bee’s hair. that’s two presents, the cake and the shells. it’s more than he’d ever gotten for too many lonely years of his life. ]
You can learn things even from awful people. [ so, yes — every single memory of his father is awful. the worst part is that they’re etched more starkly in his mind than the hazy ones he has left of his mother. ] I might’ve never discovered my dream if not for him. The All Blue, a place full of exotic fish and plants and spices. A chef’s paradise. I’ll cook you something grand when I get there.
[ he hopes that she’s there with him when he finds it. his cheek rests against her hair as he idly blows smoke, his mismatched eyes half-lidded. ]
You didn’t tell anyone else about my birthday, did you? [ he can’t imagine having to go through more than once today. ] I don’t want Nami or Zoro to know. I like that it’s just our secret.
( it's apparent to bee, as apparent to anyone else who spends time with bee, that the real north of her heart is placed in people who want to spend time with her. she sees the bi-lines, all the connective pieces of tissue to make her who she is — she used to sit in the tress of withywood manor, behind thick walls of stone and inside the secret tunnels of the house, to spy on the other children having fun and playing with each other. children with pink, rosy cheeks, children who didn't need to be taught to laugh — normal kids who weren't difficult to love, who instinctively hated her. the largest parts of bee's life thus far have taken place on the outside of a door, looking in through the window pane. anyone wanting her around for any amount of time is a gift, she's learned. loneliness is more her enemy than dwalia.
leaning back, she shifts in sanji's lap, fumbling around until she's sitting across him, feet tucked into his thigh, knees resting against his chest. she looks up at him for a long while, colorless, pale eyes blinking. )
I will go with you.
( she tries to say it without any inclination of emotion, which isn't hard for her. once he knows she wants it, it'll be all too easy to break her heart.
not that it's a hard thing to do — sanji already knows she loves him, privately thinking his buck name would be a very suitable prince lovely. because he wants it, he gives it, he has it. love pours out of sanji like blood pours from a slain beast. nuzzling under his chin, bee lazily fists a hand in the front of his shirt, letting her eyes fall closed. she woke up early for the cake, and is very notably very cranky first thing in the morning. )
Your dream ... ( she commits the all blue to memory, deciding she'll look for it in her coming dreams. blue is a color that she associates with sanji — blue and yellow. it makes it more of a challenge, and that makes it fun. ) Why did you decide to become a chef in the beginning of all things, Da?
( she doesn't notice her slip up, too tired to check herself. if she did, she'd probably run away, somewhere where no one could find her, where she could be loathsome, hateful daughter in peace. as it is, she just frowns, shaking her head. )
I did not say. ( it's clear from her tone of voice that she thinks his birthday is something everyone should know, that all should celebrate. ) But I always keep your secrets. You can trust Bee.
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the cuddle is, then, a marker of inevitability. like the world works in cycles, so do people — people always leave her, and so it is probably the last time. bee will treasure it. )
Mm.
( tiny hands lay over sanji's, head thumped back on his chest. she tries to tilt her head back far enough to look at him, but the angle isn't right, so she looks down at his ringed fingers instead, twisting one of them about his knuckle. )
I was born to Withywoods Manor, the place of my youth. It is an old, old castle — much of it I had never seen, as it was closed off, without use. Anyway, once my Da showed me a secret passage in his study, like a den for a bear cub. He gave it to me, to make my own, to watch him while he worked in solitude. It was the best gift I have ever been given. ( she turns her lips up awkwardly in a smile. ) After Ma died, I do believe my father struggled with me. He did not know what he was meant to do, I think, and neglected me for awhile. But when he realized his mistake, he took it upon himself to treat me like a little princess! Ma never would have spoiled me so. We went to market in Oaksbywater for Winterfest, and he bought me all manner of things I never asked for — hot chestnuts and a new saddle for my horse, Prissy, with little bees carved on the flaps, and a leather belt and a bracelet and a cake. He even let me buy gifts for my lady's maid, Careful, and our steward, Revel. Best of all was the seashell seller, as I had never been to the sea before, nor seen something so beautiful. That was the best day I have ever had, truly.
( not because of the gifts, really, but because she was rich with her father's sometimes wayward and unfocused affection. at least — until he left her. fumbling, she reaches into the pocket of her overalls at the center of her chest, and pulls out a handkerchief (this time embroidered with a fox) tied at the crosswise corners, a bounty sitting in the pouch it made. she sets it on the table in front of them, before sinking back into sanji's hug. )
You have probably seen a lot of seashells. I did not consider that. Shanks helped me find them — I was not sure what you would like for your birthday. ( quietly, ) Are all your memories of your father awful?
no subject
he might have that in common with her father. after all, his memories of his mother are fading, and everything he learned from zeff, he learned in the same way someone might suffer a traumatic brain injury. he doesn't want his child to turn out to be a shithead like him.
if whatever is inside of him is even... that. he feels more like a freak than anything else, with nothing in this world making sense except for hunger and pain on most days. but then there are the days with nami’s smile and zoro’s warmth — and this. bee, pressed so soft and tight against him that he feels like she’s been his all along. ]
Will you go to the town over with me? A day for just the two of us. [ it’s not anyone’s fault that he feels suffocated by all the careful attention to his health. he just isn’t used to it. ] We can shop for our own chestnuts and jewelry and sweets. And it’s warm enough to look for more shells. We’ll fill up a jar with our best ones.
[ he sifts through the handkerchief, fingering a shell bleached the pale color of bee’s hair. that’s two presents, the cake and the shells. it’s more than he’d ever gotten for too many lonely years of his life. ]
You can learn things even from awful people. [ so, yes — every single memory of his father is awful. the worst part is that they’re etched more starkly in his mind than the hazy ones he has left of his mother. ] I might’ve never discovered my dream if not for him. The All Blue, a place full of exotic fish and plants and spices. A chef’s paradise. I’ll cook you something grand when I get there.
[ he hopes that she’s there with him when he finds it. his cheek rests against her hair as he idly blows smoke, his mismatched eyes half-lidded. ]
You didn’t tell anyone else about my birthday, did you? [ he can’t imagine having to go through more than once today. ] I don’t want Nami or Zoro to know. I like that it’s just our secret.
no subject
leaning back, she shifts in sanji's lap, fumbling around until she's sitting across him, feet tucked into his thigh, knees resting against his chest. she looks up at him for a long while, colorless, pale eyes blinking. )
I will go with you.
( she tries to say it without any inclination of emotion, which isn't hard for her. once he knows she wants it, it'll be all too easy to break her heart.
not that it's a hard thing to do — sanji already knows she loves him, privately thinking his buck name would be a very suitable prince lovely. because he wants it, he gives it, he has it. love pours out of sanji like blood pours from a slain beast. nuzzling under his chin, bee lazily fists a hand in the front of his shirt, letting her eyes fall closed. she woke up early for the cake, and is very notably very cranky first thing in the morning. )
Your dream ... ( she commits the all blue to memory, deciding she'll look for it in her coming dreams. blue is a color that she associates with sanji — blue and yellow. it makes it more of a challenge, and that makes it fun. ) Why did you decide to become a chef in the beginning of all things, Da?
( she doesn't notice her slip up, too tired to check herself. if she did, she'd probably run away, somewhere where no one could find her, where she could be loathsome, hateful daughter in peace. as it is, she just frowns, shaking her head. )
I did not say. ( it's clear from her tone of voice that she thinks his birthday is something everyone should know, that all should celebrate. ) But I always keep your secrets. You can trust Bee.