My feet slapped loudly on the marble floor as I thudded down the corridor in chase of Rafferty. Ahead, he swerved to avoid hitting a butler who was polishing a window before launching up a flight of stairs. Ducking under the arms of a maid I quickly followed, taking the steps two at a time. Holy heck, this kid could run like a cheetah on steroids! Why the hell did I agree to a game of tag? Oh yeah, I recalled as I rounded a corner. Cause I need to make him like me. Good thing I'm athletic- or WAS athletic. Still athletic? Ugh, I don't know how this past life stuff applies in this sentence.

I faltered to a stop as I pass a gilded mirror, letting Rafferty run out of my sight. God, that's trippy. I was so used to my old reflection of being a broad shouldered hispanic girl with brown hair in a choppy pixie cut that the reflection of me now is. . . More than disturbing. The current me looks nothing like the old me. For starters this four year old's body is a shock. It's a tiny youthful looking thing, kinda alien-ish if I stare at it too long. Everything is just so tiny. Tiny little feet, tiny little hands, squirmy tiny fingers-eesh. I can't believe humans were all this tiny once.

Then it comes to the features. . . My features. There was definitely a stark difference between my new looks and old ones. The only thing remotely similar is that I wasn't pretty. Even with just my four year old appearance you could tell that I'll never grow up to be a beauty. Don't get me wrong I was never a gargoyle, not in my last life or this one, but I'd seriously question your taste if you consider me pretty. If anything, the current me is. . . Plain. Just plain. No distinguishable features about me. I have mixed asian features that I can't quite place, and messy black hair that I wanted nothing more than to hack off.

"Kal?" Rafferty popped his head from around the corner, blond bangs falling into his eyes. "Kal?" "Yeah, I'm coming!" Turning from the mirror, I sprint after him immediately, prompting him to yelp and run off to avoid being caught. Rafferty's gotten much closer to me in these last two years than I could have hoped for. Though I suppose it's also due to his lack of friends- bad for him but good for me. Ever since our little tea party event two years ago, he'll constantly show up wanting to hang out. I'm gonna say now that it's a lot harder pretending to be interested than I thought. I mean, this dude'll make me sit in his room while he recites lessons from his history book. My dude! You're freaking seven! Cool it with the boring subjects would ya?! I was eating worms when I was seven and here you are learning about the Massacre of Fa'runa!(kingdom that got slaughtered by some evil wizard dudes).

Mercifully, all my faked enthusiasm has paid off. Rafferty sees me as his closest friend and companion. He'd even bring me gifts which was sweet, but kinda useless cause what's a four year old gonna do with a bejeweled necklace. Nevertheless it's too soon to be comfortable since I've still got Fairen to win over and the storyline doesn't even start for another sixteen years. A lotta things can go south by then, so if anything I gotta up my game to ensure my safety. Befriending Rafferty was simple enough, but how am I supposed to get to Fairen? His dad's a condescending asshole, especially to David for whatever reason, so I don't see us getting together for family dinner anytime soon. Maybe I can have Rafferty organize something, but honestly I think the kid's kinda afraid of him. Whenever I tried asking him about Fairen before, he'd go all pale and do his nervous mumbling thing like he thinks the walls are gonna spy on us or something. It might be the only way, but I don't really wanna put Rafferty through it and risk him getting an anxiety attack.

Anyway, after running through the halls for about an hour, we finally took a break from our game of chase and are now currently resting in a sitting room. Rafferty was nestled beside me on a sofa, reading aloud some text from a study book his tutor gave him while I swing my legs off the edge and ignore him. Swallowing down a cup of chilled fruit juice, I hop off the sofa and put my cup down on the coffee table. "Where are you going?" Rafferty asked quickly, lowering his book. Good god, I swear this kid's got separation anxiety or some shit. I just gotta piss ok? "Bathroom," I answer, tromping over to the door. "Oh," He visibly relaxed and lifted his book again. "Hurry back!" "Uh huh," Just as long as it takes me to urinate buddy. Going out, I head down the hallway in search of the nearest toilet, maids and butlers passing me by without a glance. I've learned that unless I actually stop and speak to them they won't talk back or acknowledge my existence. I'm fine with this. They've probably got more important things to address than a four year old walking down a hall in nothing but her undergarments.

Pausing at a doorway, I take a nosy peek, just to see what was going on. The room was filled with nothing but books and a desk in the middle of it, facing away from me. Large windows streamed in sunlight, and it took me a moment to notice that feet were poking out from the top of the chair. OI. Person. That's not how you sit. "Hey, wrong way bud," I call before I can stop myself. "Yer feet go the other way." The feet disappear and are replaced by the familiar looking face of a young boy. He stared at me blankly, mouth agape for a few seconds and then screwed up his eyes in suspicion. "Who're you?" He demanded. "Who're you?" I shot back, frowning at his snide tone. He looked familiar, but I couldn't recall seeing him before. Where'd I meet him? Was he the son of an aristocrat or a staff member? Sometimes maids would bring their children to work if they were sick or couldn't find a sitter. Maybe that was it.

"Not telling," He snapped, sneering as he looked me up and down. "Where's your clothes?" "Nun ya." "Nun ya?" He repeated, momentarily looking confused. "Nun ya damn business," I snort, turning away and starting to walk. "Wha- HEY!" He leapt from the chair and rushed over, blocking my retreat. He looked outraged but also like he'd been slapped and he didn't expect it. "You can't talk to me like that!"

"Ha. Just did."

"But you can't!"

"Why not?!"

"You just can't!!"

"Or what? Are my ears gunna be eaten by beetles? Huh? Are they?" I goaded, feeling fed up. What's with this kid? God damn. His ears turned red as he stuttered. "N-no! But you can't! My dad says everyone has to be nice to me cause I'm important!" He pointed at me and stamped his foot. "More important than YOU!!" "Yeah well," I rub my eye with the back of my hand. "Your dad lied." At this the kid looked so mad he might explode. Raising his hand, he was undoubtedly about to strike me, but I slapped him across the face first. Shocked, his hand dropped down as he stared at me, mouth wide. After a moment he shut it, lower lip starting to quiver, and all at once start to bawl.

Man, sometimes I hate kids. He threatens to hit me and then acts like a victim when I hit him back. Seriously, kids have no manners. What the fuck kind of useless parents can't teach their kids to be polite? I mean fuck people, it's not that fucking hard. Just don't let them be assholes, it's that simple. I stand there as the kid cries on and on, mouth pressed and foot tapping in impatience. "Y-you h-hit me," he blubbered between sobs. "Yep," I reply, crossing my arms. "You deserve it. You were gonna hit me." He gasped for breath, snot and tears staining his face. "B-b-but you h-hit me," he hiccuped. "So? You were just about hit me. I just did it first. You can't threaten to hit people! Especially not girls! What are you, scum? Huh? Are you scum?" I poke his chest hard as I accuse him, making him flinch. "N-no!!" He shouted quickly but then furrowed his brows. "What's scum?" This makes me pause this time. Uhh. Shit. Actually, what is it?

"Uhhh. . . I look around, trying to find something to compare it too. "Er- oh um, kinda like this," I grab his arm and pull him over to a window in the hallway. Releasing him, I point to a patch of mold growing on the edges. "Like that." He peered at it, squinting his eyes. "What is that?" "Mold." I poke it for good measure, causing it to squish slightly. Someone wasn't doing their job properly if this stuff was growing on the windows. "What's mold?" He asked, reaching up to give it a poke himself. Uh. Fuck, good question. "Uhh. I think it's like, bacteria that grows on damp gross stuff," I guess, scratching my head. Biology wasn't my best subject. "Kinda like, I dunno, fur but made of grossness."

"I'm gross fur stuff that grows on windows?!" He exclaimed, eyes wide. "Yeah, if you hit girls." Aghast, he swiveled back to the window. "I don't wanna be gross window fur!!" I shrug. "Ok. You don't haffta be." "I don't?" "Nah. Just don't be an asshole." He tilted his head slightly. "Asshole?" "Yeah like, don't yell at people and stuff. Ya know, be nice. Say please and thank you and crap like that. Don't say you're more important than people." Pursuing his mouth, he glanced back at the mold. "And if I don't I'm gonna turn into window fur?" Uhhhhh. . . . "Yeahh. . ." I lie hesitantly. "Sssuuurreeee. . ." Oh well. If I can traumatize a kid into being polite, it's not like it's the end of the world. The boy stared at the window for a few more seconds before wiping his eyes. "Ok. I won't turn into grossness fur mold stuff!!" He declared, looking determined. "Good for you," I say, thumping him on the back. "Let's try this again, so, I'm Kal. Sorry about hitting you I guess. Who're you?"

"Oh," Blinking, he rubbed his nose, leaving a trail of snot on his coat sleeve. "I'm Fairen."
Welp. That explains why he looks familiar.