A/N: If anyone finds any ellipses in here, please let me know. Chances are, they're not supposed to be there.

I'm thinking of making this into a oneshot collection. What do you guys think?


Adam and Eve

Eve sat in her corner, hemming the edges of a white square patch. Similar patches, some plain, some patterned, scattered about her like a child's building blocks.

Adam tapped his foot impatiently, leaning against the door as his gaze alternated between the girl and her sewing tools.

'Are you done?' he asked finally, and rather rudely.

'No,' Eve replied calmly, sewing the patch onto the blanket over her lap. It joined an assortment already there. Soonafter, the black thread was tied off and cut, finishing the integration.

'Well, can you stop hogging the space? I want to build my train tracks!'

'No.' The girl reached for a new patch – slightly fraying about the edges – and her pins. As well as a youth could manage, she tacked the edges down before rethreading her needle.

Adam growled in annoyance as he watched the mechanical process. He waited one minute, then another – then gave the box by his feet a vicious kick, letting its contents spew over the floor.

Eve looked disinterestedly at the tracks on her blanket before roughly shaking them off. A few clumsy stitches came undone but she ignored those as well, simply sewing her new square into the haphazard pattern. She tugged the blanket up; several tracks tumbled onto the floor.

Her brother held his breath in mental preparation, then let it out noisily. Eve had a rather annoying habit of adhering to any task she truly set her mind to; screaming and throwing a fit never did work. But he wanted to build his tracks, and there simply wasn't enough space.

If only he was allowed to play in his father's study, or drag his sister out and shut the door in her face – the dog was rather accustomed to that. But his parents would not be pleased, and their displeasure commonly equated to punishment. He was grounded usually: no running around in the park, no ice-cream, and no toys.

For Eve it was no books and no sewing kit. But she was so quiet that trouble was hardly ever a problem on her end. Except when her brother was involved, because Eve was particularly good with rubbing little Adam the wrong way.

Their parents weren't worried about the pair; the mother had three elder sisters and the father was the youngest of six. Both were well familiar with several variants of the sibling relationship. Both understood the current situation to be a common phase: the egotistical younger brother, the elder sister who longed for space – what worried them was the antisocial nature their daughter exhibited. Labelling it as "apathetic" might be overboard in their view, but that particular lot had been cast with the rest.

The weather though could excuse her creating a patchwork quilt in the early spring. The same weather responsible for holing the younger brother within the same four walls; rain and hail assaulted the world outside.

Inside, there was just Eve and her patchwork blanket, and Adam and his unconnected toy tracks – tracks he simply could not tolerate in their current state.

Eve and her blanket would just have to deal with it, he grumbled to himself, arranging himself in the doorway and fiddling with two of the biggest pieces. Eve reached for another square and began on the border.

The peace lasted for a few minutes – until a stray wire snagged some loose stitching. Adam winced at that; he hadn't gotten the piece caught intentionally, but he lacked the finesse to untangle it.

Neither did Eve for all her needlework. When she found herself inhibited by the piece, she ripped it clean off and tossed it to the side.

The stitching came off as well, tearing holes into the fleece. Adam winced at the sound; it was a far cry from the silence that had been endured. Or enforced.

It didn't bother Eve though. Nothing much did bother her; a sliver of thread went into the eye of the needle, and then the tip stabbed through the flimsy blanket to repair the damage.

The end result was a ragged set of black lines on grey material. In no way did it look appealing, but Eve simply began to sew her next patch onto the blanket. The square of white made no effort to conceal the stitches; in fact, the contrast highlighted them.

Adam picked up his piece, but he made no move to connect it to the half-finished product. Thread was caught in the wire; Eve had the scissors, but he wasn't looking at that. A part of him was irritated, irritated that his unshakable sister ignored him still for an ugly blanket and its boring patches.

Not that he wanted her to play with him. He just wanted her to quit her annoying project and move.

The words that tumbled out of his mouth rebuked that. 'Y-your blanket –'

Eve tied off the last stitch and then stabbed the needle into its block of foam. 'I'm done.'

The end product looked like it belonged in a jail cell.

'Are you sorry?'

'Huh?' Adam blinked; the question had been unexpected.

His sister didn't look at him; she simply collected the stray scraps of material, remaining oblivious to the sudden flustered expression that graced the other's face.

Or perhaps she knew but simply didn't deem it worthy enough for a change in expression.

It took a moment, and a noisy breath, before Adam answered. 'No,' he snapped, somewhat untruthfully. He was a little sorry. Perhaps a tiny bit. After all, his sister had spent quite some time on it. Even if it did look terribly sloppy by the end. He knew Eve could do better. 'It's rubbish.'

'Yes,' Eve agreed in a monotone, closing her sewing basket and picking up the blanket. 'It's called "world".'

Adam blinked as the girl stood. A stray corner of the material became trapped under her foot when she did so, and thus when she made to scrunch the bundle more tightly, there was another ripping sound.

'World?' Adam repeated in bemusement, before shrugging. He supposed he should be relieved his sister's project hadn't been important, elsewise she would have had his head – in a semi-literal manner; she was also quite adept at scaring him out of his wits without raising her voice. And giving him nightmares with scary tales he couldn't seem to stay away from.

Of course, she was also good at chasing away those nightmares with a cool head. Or a cold head more like.

Once, just once, he would like to see her scream.

'World,' Eve validated, disinterestedly inspecting the tear. 'Ugly, isn't it?'

Her brother was at a loss for words as the girl scrunched it up tighter, before kneeling down and picking up a string-bag in a pocket of her sewing basket. In one deft movement, the blanket disappeared into the mouth. Another moment, and the strings were pulled, hiding the sewing experiment from view.

Or that's what Adam assumed it was. It served no other purpose that he could tell.

In fact, it seemed to serve no purpose at all, sitting in the navy blue bag. Except perhaps as a filler.

That didn't explain the square patches though. Or his sister.

'Get it?'

'No.'

Eve was the one who shrugged this time. 'Your loss.' And she tossed the bag at him, before collecting her sewing kit and leaving the room.

Adam stared at the stuffed blue bag. 'What am I going to do with you?' he wondered. The bag itself was nice; he couldn't see why Eve would waste it on such a thing. He could easily toss the contents out and use it to keep his marbles in – if he wanted to incur his sister's wrath. While Eve hadn't seem to care about the tears, he doubted she would be so accommodating if she found her hard work in the bin. After all, as obscure as it was, there must be some reason for the bizarre project.

He found in the end it made a good hill. He was surprised; he hadn't thought the flimsy fleece had such form to it.

But the discussion at the dinner table told him he'd entirely missed the point. Particularly when Eve explained her homework task. He didn't understand a lot of it; he wasn't school age himself, but he did hear something about a story.

Maybe Eve would be in a good mood and tell it to him at bed-time.