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 Posted: Sat Jan 13, 2007 8:20 pm
The ninja stalked into the room on silent pawpads, skittering around the corner, darting from hiding spot to hiding spot. Silent and unseen! His target was on the couch, absorbed in a book. All the better to sneak up upon.
Lips twitching with the threat of a smile, Abishai kept his gaze solidly on the book in front of him. He paused only long enough to take a sip of coffee long since gone lukewarm, then set the cup aside -- and out of danger -- before returning to the book. Ninja? What ninja?
Closer and closer - target in range! The ninja remembered just in time that real ninjas don't emit terrifying battle cries, and made his pounce in total silence. Well, mostly.
Willingly, Abishai made a surprised squeak, then laughed and grabbed hold of Merlyn, tickling him playfully. "Pounce me, will you? I'll teach you to pounce, you little ninja," he declared, grinning like a loon.
Merlyn squealed and squirmed under the tickling. "No fair, ninjas aren't ticklish," he declared, trying to poke his papa in the ribs between flails.
"You're not a ninja yet, you're a ninja in training," Abishai countered with a giggle as he squirmed in return.
This was an interesting thought. Merlyn paused to contemplate it. "Can I have real ninja stars when I'm a real ninja?" he asked.
"We'll talk about it when you're older," Abishai decided as he drew Merlyn in for a snuggle.
"Ninja stars are cool." Merlyn settled down for a hug. "They're sharp on all sides, so no matter what part hits first it sticks."
Abishai chuckled and squeezed Merlyn gently. "So ninjas are better than pirates, huh?"
"Um." Merlyn sat up and thought about that. "You can't say if they're better or not, because they're different," he decided, chewing on his lip in deep thought. "Like you can't say pizza is better than spaghetti because they're both cool and they're not the same."
"Oh, good, because I really like pirates," Abishai offered with a sparkle in his eyes. "I'm glad to know they're just as cool."
"You can't be a ninja and a pirate both," Merlyn pointed out. "Because ninjas can't swim."
Abishai smirked, tickling Merlyn's side. "Or maybe that's just what they want you to think, so you never know they're coming for you from another island!"
Merlyn shrieked gleefully and lashed his tail. "Nuh-uh, now you're making it up," he accused.
"Says who?" Abishai grinned and tickled Merlyn again, the bridge of his nose crinkling a little in amusement. "Ninjas can go everywhere!"
"Ninjas use boats Merlyn said disdainfully, squirming off the couch so as to be out of range of tickling. "'Cause they don't swim."
Abishai smirked, leaning back and crossing his arms. "And if I brought you a ninja who could swim, what would you do?"
"Um." Merlyn sat on the rug and considered this dilemma. "Ask him how he learned to swim?" he offered uncertainly.
The demon grinned, deeply amused. "See, what would a ninja do if his boat got overturned in the middle of the ocean? A ninja has to know how to swim, so he won't drown!"
This was clearly superior logic, and Merlyn was quiet for a moment, considering it. Finally, he declared, "I gotta learn to swim," with the air of one who has come to A Conclusion.
Abishai nodded sagely, though his eyes were still twinkling. "I'd say that's a very good idea. But make sure it's me or your daddy who teaches you, okay?"
"Okay. Why?" Merlyn idly flexed his toeclaws into the weave of the carpet.
"Because that way we can make sure you're safe," Abishai explained. "While you may be a ninja in training, your daddy and I both still want to make sure you don't get hurt."
"Okay." That made sense. Merlyn flopped backwards on the carpet and stretched one foot up towards the ceiling, splaying his toes. "Vati was climbing my tree," he said suddenly.
Abishai considered that as he drew his glasses off. "Does this bother you?" he asked quietly.
"It was my tree first." Merlyn slid his toeclaws out, stared at them, resheathed them.
"That's not an answer, Merl."
Merlyn put his foot back on the floor and sat up again, chewing on a thumbclaw. "I dunno." He thought about it a moment longer, then added, "He's always mad, and I'm not trying to hear, I know I'm not supposed to, he's projecting."
Just beyond the doorway there was a soft, furious squeak; Abishai looked up and called, quite calmly, "Come away from there, Vati. Remember, I told you to not eavesdrop."
Mayavati hesitated, then stomped out into the living room, angrily. "You little mindstealer!" he growled at Merlyn, chittering. "What do you think you're doing, listening to my thoughts?!"
"He just told you you're projecting," Abishai said quickly, trying to calm the rising storm.
"I can't not hear you, you're really loud," Merlyn said indignantly, jumping to his feet. "I'm not trying!"
"I'm not being loud, you're listening in!" Vati shot back.
Abishai rose, stepping between the pair, hands out to warn both of them off. "Merl, Vati, enough. Vati, yes, you're projecting, I can feel it too." As Vati opened his mouth to protest, Abishai shook his head. "No. Don't argue. You're projecting. I know you don't think you are, but it's not fair to Merl to yell at him for something he can't control."
The anger radiating off the squirrel child was making Merlyn's fur rise along his spine and down his tail. "I don't want to listen," he snapped. "I don't like being mad because you're mad!"
Somewhat taken aback, Vati blinked at Merlyn, then bristled and turned away, running off. "Vati, get back here," Abishai called, then sighed, sinking into the sofa with a groan when he was ignored.
There was a small swirl of warm wind, and Merlyn plopped down on the rug in kitten shape and began vigorously and angrily grooming his ruffled fur down. His tail beat a rapid pattern on the floor.
"I think he's jealous of you," Abishai murmured to Merlyn.
"Huh?" The small cat looked up, ears flipping up with surprise.
"You've been with your daddy since you were born, and I came into the picture not much later. Vati keeps getting abandoned by the people who are supposed to love him and take care of him. He thinks that's going to happen again here," Abishai explained softly.
Merlyn's ears drooped as he took that in. His tail curled tightly around his feet. "I wish he wasn't so mad," he said very quietly.
Abishai tilted his head slightly, curiously. "So he wouldn't project so badly?"
"Then he wouldn't be all spiky," Merlyn tried to explain. He changed shape again and wrapped his arms round his knees, hunting for the correct words to explain. "He pushes the anger at us, and it makes me mad, and then I say stuff, because I'm mad, and it makes him madder."
"Come here, kitten," Abishai murmured, opening his arms to Merlyn. "Maybe if you can just find a time to be around him when he's not mad? I've seen him not-mad when he's curled up in a tree..."
Merlyn uncurled himself and went to get a hug. "But then he gets mad 'cause I followed him," he said, and sighed. "You should go and give him a hug too, Papa," he added.
Abishai hugged Merlyn tightly, then tucked the kitten against his side as he stood. "Let's both go give him a hug."
Merlyn nodded and followed, mentally bracing himself to come back into contact with the swirl of snarling hurting anger that Vati carried with him.
When they found him, he was outside -- up a tree, as Abishai had predicted. "Come down," he called up to the squirrel, and received a chittering, angry, wordless response, but finally Vati slid down the tree, arms crossed as he glared at the pair.
"What?" Vati muttered, then blinked and froze, eyes wide, as Abishai hugged him. What the hell was going on?!
It was hard to think through the haze of someone else's anger. Merlyn flexed his claws into the ground and concentrated on blocking it out. When the tenor of the projection shifted over into confusion, it was a little easier. "'M sorry," he said, and watched his feet. "I didn't mean to listen."
Vati refused to return the hug, but at least it calmed down the chaotic swirl of his mind a little. "...Yeah. Whatever. Just try to keep it to a minimum okay?" he muttered, glancing first at Merlyn, then away, awkwardly.
"I'm trying," Merlyn said, half-offended, half-plaintive.
"Okay." Vati pulled himself forcibly away from Abishai, still not sure how to respond to the gesture, then huddled back against the tree trunk. "Just not a good idea for anybody, really. ...I'm going inside." He turned away, heading for the door.
The muddy mix of emotions was too much for Merlyn, and he started up the tree, using the best method he knew so far for escaping someone else's feelings - putting distance between them.
Abishai watched the pair, then sighed, trudging inside as well. Life never was easy, was it?
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Posted: Sun Jan 21, 2007 1:35 am
Everything was so messed up. Why did it have to be like this? What had been so wrong with him that people had kept shoving him away? Tail curled tightly around his body, Mayavati huddled in the crook of a tree, perched right where the strong trunk split into two and went off at angles; there was a huge psychology textbook in his lap, almost heavier than the squirrel-child himself was, and he was pouring over it, trying to figure out what the adults knew about him that he didn't. Maybe this way he'd be able to find out why he was so unlikeable.
Merlyn slunk up to the foot of the tree, his ears at an uncertain angle, tail low. He had cheated a little to find Vati, opening his patchy mental shields long enough to catch the mental tenor of the squirrel-child's mind; if Vati knew, he'd be angry again, but he hadn't listened much. "Um," he said.
"...What." It wasn't even a question, it was more of a statement. Vati glanced down at Merlyn, his own ears back as he carefully refrained from chittering with agitation.
"'m sorry," Merlyn said, and crawled up into the branches, tucking himself into a crook of a branch nearby and winding his tail around his ankles.
An apology? Now that was odd. Vati eyed Merlyn suspiciously, his own tail curling more tightly around his body. "Sorry for what?" he asked cautiously.
"Not gettin' it." Merlyn rested his chin on his knees and watched his toes intently.
"Not getting what?" Vati prompted, irritably confused.
"People not. Not wanting to - " Merlyn stopped, flexed his claws into the bark. "I had another dad," he said.
Vati started to speak; stopped; chittered softly and nestled back against the tree a bit more. "...Tell me," he finally murmured.
"I dunno much," Merlyn said quietly, still watching his toes. "I found a picture. Of Dad with someone. And I asked, and he said - " He hunched his shoulders, stopped speaking, and curled his claws into the branch with more force.
"Said what?" Vati tugged his shawl down around him, hugged the corners to his chest.
"That it was my other dad. And he left when I was still a baby. And he's dead and I didn't know." Merlyn scratched furrows in the bark. "And, and. I thought. If he went away, didn't he like me? And. I mean. I. You - " He stuttered to a halt and flicked a miserable glance at Vati. "'m sorry. I just felt like I should say."
"...People're assholes," Vati muttered. "People that're supposed to love you, supposed to take care of you, they just stop loving you, if they ever did in the first place, and they go away. Everyone goes away." A pause. "...It's not your fault."
Merlyn chewed on his thumbclaw, frowning fiercely. "I don't. I wouldn't. If I were grown up. When I grow up if i have kids I won't ever go away from them. Not ever."
"Can you promise that?" came the quick question. "Can you promise you won't die or get hurt or go away anyway? You don't know what's coming. No one does."
"If I get hurt I'll get better, Dream will make me," Merlyn shot back, angrily. His ears flattened back against his head.
Vati blinked, attention instantly caught. "Dream?" he asked, curiously. "What's Dream?" Apparently no one had yet told him about the details of the world that was under the care of the Sarihe.
Derailed, Merlyn blinked at Vati. He flapped a hand at the wild tangle of forest at the foot of the garden. "'S down there. Except you shouldn't go too far in, because then you can get lost and not get back to Gaia, and Dad would have to come get you, or me, because I can talk to Dream too," he said, with a touch of pride.
"It's a forest?" Vati asked, ears perking forward as he inspected the forest from where he sat. "And it talks?"
"It's a world," Merlyn explained. "That's just the Forest, and it comes up in our garden because it's Dad's so we have to be near it even though we live in Gaia too."
"...Prolixity owns a world?" Now there was a mind-boggling thought.
Merlyn tilted his head and thought about that. "It kinda owns him," he said thoughtfully. He held his right hand out, displaying the heavy blue-jeweled ring on his forefinger. "See, this came from Dream, because when I grow up a long time from now Dream will take me too."
Vati inspected the ring, his ears flattening again. "'Take you'? What do you mean, 'take you'?" It was Twenty Questions time, apparently.
"Blue said the word for it is sym-boat. No, um. Sym-bi-ote," Merlyn pronounced carefully.
"Symbiosis," Vati mused thoughtfully, his gaze turning towards the Forest again. "And the entire world talks to you?"
Merlyn nodded. "It had a mind," he offered. "Not like mine because it's not in a body but it does. Um. It's not very loud because I'm only the Heir but Dad can hear it all the time."
"What about Abishai?" Mayavati asked next, hugging his tail closer. "Does he hear it too?"
"I dunno." Merlyn poked at a flake of bark. "Dream likes him but I dunno if it talks to him."
Vati nodded slowly at that; moments later, he offered, awkwardly, "Don't worry about apologizing. I guess I need to stop... thinking so loudly. Or whatever."
"I'll get better at not listening," Merlyn muttered.
"Not your fault," Vati mumbled, clearly not used to trying to be comforting.
"Is, sorta. That one." Merl unfolded from the ball he had curled into and hauled himself up onto the next branch. "I'm practicing shields," he added, defensively.
"Good. ...I want to learn telepathy," Vati said after several more moments of silence, the bottom half of his tail starting to lash back and forth.
Merlyn tilted an ear at Vati. "You should come see Miz Leila when I go have my lesson," he offered hesitantly.
The squirrel blinked up at Merlyn, his own ears swiveling forward again. "Who's Leila?"
"She's teaching me how to shield right." Merlyn draped himself over the branch.
"...I'll talk to her," Vati decided. Hopefully she'd be able to help him do something with his mind. It wouldn't do to just be normal.
Merlyn peered down at Vati. "You can have mine," he offered.
Vati eyed Merlyn right back, once more suspicious. "Your what?"
"Empathy. I don't wannit," Merlyn mumbled.
"Why not? At least then you'd be able to tell when someone's lying to you," Vati muttered back, clearly sore over the issue.
"'Cause it hurts when people are really mad or sad and I can't shield enough. And I don't like feeling things just cause someone else is feeling them. Like when Blue has the bad dream that the Dreams can't chase off and he screams in his head and doesn't wake up." Merlyn shuddered, the fur on his tail puffing slightly.
Vati curled in on himself a bit, hiding most of his body behind his tail. I'd do anything to keep from being lied to again, he whispered ever-so-quietly in the back of his mind; he said only, "I'd go hide then."
Merlyn nodded a little and started slithering down from the tree, seeming subdued.
"Why're you leaving?" Vati asked quietly.
"I don't wanna make you mad," Merlyn said.
"Look, I'm not mad, okay?" The squirrel eyed Merlyn hard. "I didn't mean that you should go hide, idiot."
Merlyn paused, balanced on the branch. "Okay," he said after a moment, and curled back into the hollow of the branch. "What're you reading?"
Vati turned the book and offered the cover for Merlyn's perusal. "A book on abnormal psychology."
"It's a big book," Merlyn said doubtfully. Then he paused, ears swiveling as footsteps approached.
"Hey, kiddo."
The ears went flat. "Go 'way."
"Hey. Merlyn. Listen to me," Vati muttered, then thought at the kitten, careful to keep it from being too loud. Thought you said you were never gonna go away. Give your dad the same chance. And, that said, he grabbed his book and skittered down the tree, quick as a flash.
The thought was neither loud nor clear enough for Merlyn's senses to catch in its entirety, but the ambiguous, half-uncomfortable swirl of emotion behind it was clear enough. "S'not fair," Merlyn muttered, and descended the tree more slowly, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing sullenly up at his father. "'M here."
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Posted: Wed Jun 27, 2007 12:32 am
Inua slouched through the shadow of the trees, hands in his pockets, hood pulled up to shade his eyes. He was beginning to regret the impulse that had driven him out to take a walk; but he hadn't been able to stand his rooms any more, the dim lonely quiet and the hum of the air conditioner and the glow of the screens. It had been making him a little crazy.
Curled up with his back against a rock, Vati sat with with a huge book in his lap, his ruby-bright sari pulled tight around him and over his head. When he heard Inua walking, he looked up, brows furrowing. ...Hrn.
Inua paused at the edge of a clearing, grimaced at the bright light on the grasses ahead, and slouched back against the tree behind him. He made a vague rude gesture at the light.
"...I don't think the light really cares if you flip it the bird," Vati offered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Inua jumped and skittered away from the tree, head snapping to look up at the source of the voice. "Thanks for the heads up," he offered, just as dryly. His shoulders hunched; now he felt stupid, dammitall. He hadn't thought anyone was around.
Vati smirked and closed his book. "Yeah, well, I figured you could use the notice." He tugged the sari closer, his ears flattened under the shimmering cloth.
"Would never have guessed. What're you doing here, anyway?" Inua crossed his arms defensively, tail switching.
"...Reading," Vati said, indicating the book in his lap with mock patience.
"On these lands," Inua clarified crossly.
Vati blinked, then held up the book. "Reading," he repeated. "I wanted to get away from the house."
"Hneh." Inua leaned back against the tree again. "Sounds familiar," he muttered.
"Same problem?" Vati hazarded, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah." Inua picked at the bark of the tree, frowning. "You live with idiots too?"
Vati snorted faintly. "The world," he insisted, "is full of idiots." Bitter words from a kid who looked no more than thirteen years old. He wound his tail around himself, rather firmly.
"I hear that." Inua frowned at Vati. "How old are you, anyway?"
"...Not yet thirteen," Vati murmured.
"Aren't you, like, supposed to be all full of cheer and energy, or something?"
Vati glowered up at Inua. "Like hell I am."
Inua snorted and grinned, a tinge of humor in his eyes. "Awful young to be such a cynic," he said, ignoring the fact that he wasn't much over sixteen himself.
"Wasn't aware cynicism had an age rating," Vati muttered. "Who are you, anyway?"
"Inua tanh Sarihe," the fox said. "What about you?"
Vati blinked, then narrowed his gaze suspiciously at Inua. "You're a Sarihe, too?"
"Sponsored," Inua shrugged. "Not related. Wait, you're a Sarihe?"
"Kind of," Vati muttered, looking away angrily. "The guy who's supposed to be my dad this time is a Sarihe now."
"Adopted, huh?" Inua slid down to the ground, looking up at the sky. "Trade you."
"Why would you want to be part of a family?" Vati hugged his tail to him, glowering. "Families never last."
"Never had one," Inua said gloomily. "Unless you count my roomies, and I don't."
Vati snorted. "Be grateful. They're not worth a damn thing. Everyone always abandons you."
"Trade you," Inua muttered forlornly.
"...Why do you want one?"
"Because my - " Inua caught himself, the fur on his tail bristling. "Why do you even want to know?"
"Because it makes no sense to me," Vati growled.
"Because I never even knew my parents, okay?" Inua spat, pained. "I wake up one day dropped off on some doorstep, get told I don't even have fathers, and someone I don't even know is gonna take care of me, and Hikaru and Jareth are okay, right, but they're not my family - " He pulled his hood down over his face, ears flattening back through the slits in it.
Vati watched Inua, unflinching. "My birthparents shoved me into another world because they didn't want me. My first foster parents decided they didn't want me. So did my second set. I'm on my third set."
Inua grimaced, and was silent.
"So you're gonna have to understand why I don't get it when people want a family," Vati said quietly. "Families never last. The only person who can ever take care of you is you."
"I'd have liked a chance to try," Inua said. "You're gonna have to understand that," he added.
"...So talk to Abishai," Vati offered after a few moments, relenting very slightly. "He's married to Prolixity now. He seems to like adding kids to the family."
"Not a kid," Inua muttered, and tried to hide his hope.
Vati snorted. "Yeah, well, whatever you are. Talk to him."
Inua tilted and fell over on his side in the grass, watching Vati. "Why do you care?" he asked after a moment, curious.
"...If having a family will make someone happy, then... well... whatever." Vati swivelled his ears back, chittering irritably.
"Mmph." Inua thought that over.
Vati chittered a bit more at Inua, then settled, once more mostly hiding behind sari and tail.
Inua stayed where he was, stretching out comfortably inthe shade, apparently content to stay quiet. After a few minutes of quiet, the foxboy stirred. "Why're you in a dress?" he asked idly.
"...It's a sari, not a dress, and I'm wearing it because I like it," Vati grumbled. "It's comfortable." A long, quiet pause. "...And pretty. So."
Inua shrugged. "Whatever floats your boat, man." He rested his head on his arm.
Vati rose, brushing off his sari. "Look, I'm going home. And if you wanna talk to Abishai, you might want to come with me."
"Mmmph." But Inua got up, stuffing his hands back into his pockets.
Vati watched Inua for a moment, then wandered off, his long, long tail flicking behind him, his textbook in his arms.
Inua followed, head down, ears back with anxiety.
The squirrel was silent as he led the way home, and as he stepped inside, Abishai saw him and came over. "Welcome home," the angel offered, and sighed inwardly when he just got a glance in return from Vati.
Inua followed Vati in, glancing around at the large house, his ears flatting back further. He felt vaguely out of place, and it irritated him in nameless ways to see Vati so flatly rejecting the offered affection.
"This is Inua," Vati said, and made his way for the stairs. "...You two should talk."
Abishai blinked at Vati, then looked to Inua, his head cocking slightly to the side.
Inua looked helplessly after Vati, then back at Abishai. He wans't sure he liked Vati, but at least he sort of knew the boy. And he couldn't just say "I want a family." "Um," he said.
Abishai was quiet for a moment, then he offered Inua a gentle smile. "Come on. Want anything to drink?"
"Um. Okay," Inua said, and as an afterthought, pulled his hood down, not wanting to be rude.
"My name is Abishai Sarihe," Abishai offered as he made his way into the kitchen. "I'm the... well... not patriarch of the family... male matriarch? I guess that works. Do you like milk, or would you rather soda? Or water?"
"Water, I guess," Inua said quietly. "I'm Inua tanh Sarihe," he said quickly, hoping that this man had at least heard of him and his roommates.
Abishai handed a glass of water to the boy. "Inua... I've heard of you." He smiled softly and settled down in a chair, a cup of coffee in his hands.
That got a shy smile out of Inua. "I ... met your son out in the woods," he tried.
"I'm sorry," Abishai said dryly. "Mayavati is not the most personable of people. But he's been through hell, so... I can understand."
"He told me, a little." Inua fidgeted. "I'm sorry."
Abishai shook his head. "No, it's okay. I'll get through to him in time. He's not going to believe me until he realizes that it's okay and we're not going anywhere. But... what can I do for you?"
"I - we were talking about families." Inua tried to think of a tactful way to bring it up.
The angel nodded softly, his gaze turning sympathetic. "Vati hates the idea of it. But I gather you... don't?"
"I ... kindofwishIhadafamily," Inua said all in a rush, and slumped down to cross his arms on the table.
"Well... you're a Sarihe," Abishai pointed out, resting a hand on Inua's arm. "Why can't we be your family?"
"I just. They told me at the agency that I didn't have parents," Inua said softly.
"Bollocks," Abishai said dismissively. "They're idiots. Parents -- a family, period -- is who you want it to be."
Inua stared at Abishai, taking this idea in, vaguely aware that he probably looked stupid.
Abishai offered Inua a gentle smile. "So if you wanted parents... I know Prox and I would enjoy stepping in."
"Really?" Inua sounded desperately hopeful and relieved. He hadn't had to ask.
"Really," Abishai murmured. "We could be your family."
"I - if i could - I don't want to be a burden - " Inua thought a little guiltily of Hikru and Jareth. Would they be sad if he left? Or pleased?
Abishai snorted in amusement. "Trust me, Inua, we've room for more."
"Thank you," Inua said, subdued and relieved. "It's really okay?"
"It's really okay," Abishai assured him gently. "Just do something for me? Help me with Vati a little?"
Inua nodded emphatically. "He - I want to help," he said.
Abishai sighed in relief. "Thank you. The more people he's comfortable around, the more of a chance we have of him learning to trust again."
"He must care, somewhere," Inua offered. "He said I should come and talk to you ... "
"He cares. He just doesn't let himself believe it." Abishai sighed softly, distressed. "...Anyway. Let's go upstairs and get you a room, shall we?"
Inua nodded, smiling shyly. "Thank you," he said again.
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