Ceridwen, listening to the two travelers squabble before her, held up her hands to her head as if to cover her ears in annoyance, ‘You two, it should be in your best interest to stop speaking, or else I will make this visit short!’
And so they hushed their mouths- Bucky could only follow the orders he was given, as polite children do, and Clawfoot saw it as much of a game as everything else in the world. Turning their backs towards one another the two companions said not another word. Ceridwen seemed content at last, and left them sitting upon that little loveseat, as she herself got up and stepped towards the kitchen to make herself a cup.
It was only some seconds before the fair child tilted his head slightly to look over at the blackwell, whose head was resting on his crossed arms placed down to hang from the armrest. A glance back from the beast, and Bucky turned away.
Not before shifting around, that is. A small hand shoved against the large tail pinning him to the side of the seat, as he tried to make more room for himself. Clawfoot responded to the pushing with a shuffle, now furling out the fluke into the boys’ lap as if to tease him. The boy grew furious! Pushing against the whales’ tail until finally it flopped onto the floor with a ‘thud!’
Balling his fists the boy slammed them onto his thighs in frustration, ‘What is the problem with you?’ he seemed to say, gesturing wide to his opposite in a fluster.
‘It is just a game,’ Clawfoot shrugged, unsure of what exactly his smaller company was trying to mime to him, ‘You are taking this much too seriously.’ Bucky thought he had meant.
He threw his hands into the air, ‘You are not taking this seriously enough!’ the blackwell assumed the boy was saying.
The beast still lounged, though putting a fist to what would be his hip in offense, moving his head closer to the boy to look down at him with narrowed eyes, which only made Bucky more exasperated. Almost flailing, he tried to tell everything to Clawfoot in song and dance, the intentions of which Clawfoot could not truly figure out through signals alone. But the one thing he could tell was that they were not very good.
Finally, he gave up, ‘I cannot tell what you are saying, but I can tell it is not friendly anymore. Oh! Do tell!’ he said out loud, and the sounds over by the kitchen stopped.
Bucky groaned angrily, giving up as well, ‘My, Clawfoot, we are not friends!’
Such words did not sit well within the blackwell, eyes now solely focused upon the boy below him- Bucky had barely finished his words before Clawfoot pushed him down, claws missing him. The child yelped in surprise alerting the woman in the kitchen.
A whistle sounded and the beasts’ attention was changed to that of lady Ceridwen, just barely reaching with a small piece of firewood in two of her hands still burning at the end- pointed directly at the blackwell. Immediately Clawfoot shuffled back to avoid the flames, and crawled backwards away from the boy and off the loveseat onto the floor.
‘Out, out, out!’ Ceridwen snapped at him, following him until he was back out the door onto the porch, in which she shut the door tightly. Once it was closed she waved out the firewood until a line of smoke trailed lazily upwards up to the rafters and the little ornaments that scattered the roof like stars, and turned to the shocked child left behind on the seat.
‘Oh, dear, are you alright?’ She questioned him rather caringly.
Bucky held his chest, finding a heartbeat after all, ‘My, I think I am all right!’