Chapter Text
Philip liked to sit on the stairs and carve when it rained. It was something he could never truly enjoy back at the castle. Though he wasn’t fortunate enough to be able to experience the sensation of feeling the rain on his finger tips, he still enjoyed the smell of dirt and the consistently rhythmic pitter-patter of the raindrops, making different sounds depending on what surfaces they hit.
It was different from the boiling rain he had spent 400 years hiding from. Boiling rain would sizzle. After a storm, you’d step outside to see burn marks covering every surface imaginable, as if little meteors had dropped from space. They would linger for a few days and eventually disappear.
The back door creaked open and Luz came bounding out, all bundled up in bright green sweatpants and a faded, red hoodie with yellow crocks. She looked like a stoplight, but a very comfortable stop light. She sat cross-legged one step below Philip with a sketchbook and looked off into the dark clouds.
“Whatcha doin?” She asked.
Philip held up his carving knife in one hand and an awkwardly shaped stump in the other.
“And you?” He asked in return.
“Just doodling,” she flipped it open and pulled out a pencil from her hoodie pocket. “I’m trying to make a comic.”
“Ahh,” Philip nodded before asking; “what is a comic?”
“It’s like a story told with mainly pictures instead of words,” Luz showed him the first page of an unfinished comic she had been working on for weeks. “I mean, there ARE words, but it’s more visual in a way that a traditional book is not.”
Philip examined the page in front of him, reading the panels as best as he could without his glasses. It was a simple love story between a cat and a snake, but she hadn’t gotten very far. He nodded understandingly and she pulled it back.
“What are you working on?”
Philip didn’t answer right away. The whole idea still made him a little nervous. He figured that once he got started, he would ease into it and the strange feeling would cease to exist.
“Oh, it’s just a wolf. For Hunter.” He mumbled the last part, hoping Luz wouldn’t hear. But she did. Her ears perked up and she was suddenly a lot more interested. She set down her sketchbook beside her, careful to avoid any wet spots.
“Oooh neat! Does he like wolves? He never mentioned a favorite animal, I always just assumed it was birds.”
Philip shrugged. “If he did express an interest in a specific animal, I was always too caught up in myself to even care to ask,” his face fell. “I don’t know. He was heavily interested in werewolves when he was young. I remember that much.”
That only seemed to get Luz even more invested. Her eyes lit up.
“What was Hunter like when he was a kid?”
Philip held the tip of a knife to his lips thoughtfully. “Well, he was quite an energetic kid. He was always seeking approval, sometimes making impulsive decisions to get it,” he smiled weakly then. “When he was about 5 years old, he started cutting his own hair. And just when his hair would grow out, he’d cut it again, even worse than before.”
Philip chuckled at the memory. The image of Hunter with his never hair spreading in every direction was ingrained in his memory as if it had happened recently. Then his smile faded and he stared off into the rain.
“His ears were a lot bigger than any witch I had ever seen before. They’d wave around like church bells and flatten against his head when he was afraid. He was like a puppy.”
Luz nodded in agreement. Hunter’s ears were almost as big as his head. She always wondered how he was able to fit them comfortably under his cloak and mask.
She smiled at the thought of baby Hunter. Someone she had first known to be a serious figure meant to intimidate. Someone who held his head high and commanded respect. She wished Philip had a wallet with his picture inside, or maybe a secret fridge with all his drawings hung up. She was invested now and there was no going back.
“Tell me more.”
“The day I created him, he wouldn’t stop crying,” Philip explained. “I rushed to the middle of Bonesborough to find something to calm him down. I didn’t have much time, so I grabbed the first thing I saw, which was this weird pink frog with goggles. He’s slept with it ever since,” then he shakes his head and smiles again. “He swears he grew out of it, but I’ve seen him hide it under his pillow.”
Philip is silent then. He remembers how angry he was at Hunter for something like that. Something as harmless as finding comfort in a stuffed animal even though he was a teenager. He probably needed that comfort. It wasn’t like he was going to find it in his uncle.
He looked back to Luz. Hunter was about her age when he was promoted to be the Golden Guard, the second most important position on the Boiling Isles. He tried to imagine Luz in Hunter’s spot. Going around the isles fighting his enemies, retrieving palismen, and doing Titan knows what else he had expected him to do.
He thought about his nephew when he was small. How he had looked up to Philip more than anyone in the world. How he had made Hunter duel an experienced coven member twice his age when he was only 7 just to prove his worth. He failed, and Philip made him pay the price. All at 7 years old.
The scar across Hunter’s face was a constant reminder of his shortcoming all those years ago. Philip didn’t reflect on that day until just a few weeks ago, solidifying in his mind what an absolute monster he was.
In a way, he was relieved to feel guilt. It made him feel more human. Then he felt selfish for thinking about how it made him feel instead of Hunter.
Little Hunter had grown on him a little while after that incident and he found himself spending time with him. Not because he was obligated to, but because he wanted to. He read stories to him, patched up his frog toy when his arm was torn off, and let him accompany a few important meetings to take notes. Still, it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Philip looked at the stump of wood in his quivering hands and instantly felt foolish for gaining any hope from the fact that this could be a step towards mending that bond.
Luz’s smile fell a little and her eyebrows furrowed with confused concern. It was almost like she was reading his mind. Philip’s stomach plummeted. He contemplated continuing further with his project. What if Hunter didn’t like werewolves anymore anyways?
“I stole his staff from him once,” Luz piped up, trying to break the heavy silence. Philip looked at her with surprise.
“Yeah, we were in Latissa and we crashed and I somehow managed to get his staff. Boy, he was not happy.”
Philip couldn’t help but smile a bit.
“I bet.”
Luz looked over his shoulder at the would-be wolf. “Y’know, I think Hunter mentioned wanting to carve palismen someday.
Maybe you could teach him after you give that to him.”
Philip tapped his finger along the blunt end of the blade. There it was again. Hope. She was good at that. Making you feel like you can accomplish just about anything if you just believe in yourself, but he knew it wasn’t realistic.
He looks at her again. She’s got her sketchbook back in her lap and is doodling away. The snake kisses the cat, but she can’t get it to look right. She erases the snake’s lips over and over again until it’s a stained graphite mess.
“Great, now I gotta go get a sticky note.” She huffs.
A bolt of lightning silently strikes in front of them. The rumbling of the thunder comes just a few seconds later.
“You know, for every 5 seconds between the lightning and thunder, it’s one mile away.” Philip says, leaning back. A smaller bolt is followed by a loud, booming CRACK that causes Luz to flinch. Philip smiles.
“That was what? 2 seconds?” Luz jokes.
“We’re lucky the house is still standing.”
“We had some of the worst thunder storms back in my day,” Philip says. “It was impossible to sleep. Every time I’d see lightning outside my window, counting the seconds would eventually lull me to sleep.”
Luz took her crocs off and splashed her feet in a growing puddle. “Did Hunter like thunder storms?”
Philip shook his head. “Not until he got a bit older. I found him hiding under my bed once.”
Luz coos picturing that. Poor baby Hunter with his butchered hair, hiding under a gigantic bed with his little frog.
They stayed out there for an hour longer. Philip made progress on his wolf and Luz had finished a page of her comic. She looked at her phone for the time.
“Alright, I’m going back inside. I’m cold.”
“Who would’ve thought putting your feet in a puddle would do that.” Philip teased.
Luz slipped her crocs back on, collected her things, and headed for the door.
“Yeah, yeah. I know.”
Philip waited for the door to click behind her. He was alone again. He looked up into the pouring rain. It seemed to be getting heavier. He stood up and placed his things on the steps, then made his way into the middle of the lawn. He faced the sky and closed his eyes, letting the rain melt his hair flat against his scalp. The rain pelted against his face. It was cold. So, so cold. It wasn’t long before he was soaked to the bone, thunder and lightning clapping around him. Finally, he retreated to the porch and got his things before heading back inside.