La Lengua (One year ago) // circe&lore

Lore doesn't remember a lot about his life before the Murdock house.

There are small things, gatherings, that's how he thinks about the memories, like the one in his mom's skirt when she'd lift it to go up a step. There's smells that he still chases, tastes that he can vaguely remember, the sound of singing in a rolling tongue and whispers against his ear in the time between sleep and waking.

That's mostly it.

But sometimes when his sister swears he hears his mother's tongue. It's a nice thing, a small kindness, to see a little of himself in someone else for once.

It takes a little bit of needling, a few little carvings left on her pillow and even some begging here and there but like most of his siblings, Circe gives in eventually to her brother.

His siblings are so unused to life beneath a ray of sun that the moment it turns on them, they bend. It'd be bad for them all if Lore ever came to understand his own strength.

He leans forward, his smile growing as his sister starts to speak. He doesn't understand what she's saying but that familiar feeling is back, sort of like deja vu, like a distant dream. Sometimes on the afternoons when he slips out to the docks to squirrel himself aboard Inga's ship, he hears bits and pieces but it's rough, from the mouth of sailors.

It isn't like this.

"Sí, señora," he nods seriously, smile fading only the littlest bit to show just how serious he is. "Have you ever seen me not give anything my all?" he hooks a thumb at his chest, "Besides, it's important to me too, okay?"

His smile returns, as if the sun has come out from behind a cloud. Lore can never stay serious for long but that doesn't diminish his sincerity.

"Also, what's empam... empess...that?" he asks, his brow furrowing as he tries to work it out, "You might have to slow down a little."

There should be storm clouds in his heart, the same ones that haunt the rest of the household. Clear skies and a horizon line that cuts across his soul, straight down the middle. Waves of joy lap at his heart, overwhelm his shores as they follow the currents and then fall away from him with the tide.

He's careful when he has to be, he can make eddies when he needs to, but it isn't common for Lore to seem to be anything but happy.

It makes for an excellent mask.

"Because I want to know you better," he says.

It's just one of many reasons, maybe it's not all of them in one answer but it's just as important to him as any of them. His sister keeps herself separate from everyone else and Lore doesn't need to guess to know why. They both stick out like sore thumbs when the family leaves the yard. They're different from the rest of the Murdocks, it'd be better to be different together.

"And there's this song I sort of remember from when I was little, it was like-" he says, then stumbles around a melody, "dooo, do doooOOoo do?"

She seems to accept that.

"Em-pe-ce-mos," he repeats carefully, "Empe-cemos, empecemos!"

Lore bends forward over his notebook and writes the word down in long wobbling letters that look more like chicken scratch than anything else.

Let's begin.

A thrill runs down his spine.

"Thanks Circe," he says and lifts his head again to smile at his sister. She's off again, new words falling from her lips, Lore listens carefully, straining. He catches her name in there, the same word twice. Lucky for them both, Lore's never been all that afraid of being wrong.

"Mi llamo Lore..... my name is Lore?"

He wiggles a little beneath her gaze, sometimes when Circe looks at him with that much intensity, it feels like he's a little bug pinned beneath a microscope. The Murdock glare is a mystery to him, it's like a code he can't crack, that he'll maybe never be able to, he just doesn't have the genes.

Or it's just that even with his callused hands, he still holds everything so tenderly.

He catches the moment she begins to shut down. He's seen it happen many times with his siblings. Maybe that's genetics too, the inability to believe that things can be what they say they are, the fear of fire and being burned.

This time it's not her words that tell Lore what she's saying but her expression, stiff and reserved. She pulls back slightly, he can feel it like the tide tugging at his ankles when he stands on the beach. The right answer is for him to do the same. This house breeds distrust between its children, a strange little trap for the crabs.

"Well... it's lonely to be different," he answers.

Lore raises his hands in front of him, and grips the shape of that idea as if it's a tangible thing. "Not just for you, but for me too."

People forget that when they look at him and see him all smiles, all sunshine, they don't think that beneath it there could be anything else. For the most part, there isn't. Lore is everything that he is on one page. He's genuinely happy ninety-nine percent of the time. He loves his siblings and the roof over their heads and even their parents to some extent.

He just lives with the constant reminder that he's strange for a Murdock. It's not just how he looks, but it's how he acts, how he moves, he's just always been the odd one out. Their mother made sure that he knew that too and growing up feeling that way stays with you. It's lonely.

That's something Circe can't fully understand, no one really can.

"I thought maybe if I could learn, then I'd feel more...," he gestures towards the window, "Attached? To the things I left behind, and to you- I could belong."

Then Lore grins again.

"Sí?"