[html] Of all the places there were to go in the world, something had told Laurel where exactly his son had gone to. There were truly only a few places he could have gone and most of those Laurel doubted for whatever reason. New Haven was out of the question in his mind, as were some of the other, smaller places they had quietly passed through. The one place that had always stuck out in Laurel’s mind was the little region tucked away on Nova Scotia. He had never known the name of the region and was quite convinced that it didn’t have a name. It wasn’t a valley, wasn’t stretched out and over some mountain range with a name… it was just there. And for the most part, he and Nikita both had always described it as being an innocuous sort of place. Excluding of course, the illness that had gone around; something that he supposedly had been one of the things to drive a firm wedge between those in Esper Hollow.
So it had been strange to come back, to pass through where a year ago he had roamed freely with however many others had come to settle there, and venture north towards the one place where he knew coyotes had settled and made a name for themselves: Inferni. He couldn’t quite remember the last time it was that he had come to see those who lived there, though obviously it had been over a year ago. He vaguely remembered certain members who had lived there, like Anselm and Corona, and distantly, Gabriel. But other than that, he had never gotten very acquainted with anyone else from there, so it was strange to be coming up on their well-marked doorstep for a purpose entirely other than joining them.
Which of course, the thought had crossed his mind a few times. But for Nikita’s sake, he knew he wouldn’t, even if their relationship was ambiguous at best; he wasn’t exactly sure what to refer to them as. But the fact that there were children — or in this case, a child — between them gave him an unspoken obligation to stick with her. He already had enough regret stashed away for a rainy day for letting her go on her own in the first place. His olive eyes scanned the pike-lined border, picking out the familiarity of this particular stretch simply because it had been the one he had come to stand at a year ago. It was the same stretch where Anselm had found him, to the best of his recollection.
A sigh left his leathery lips parted, and he deliberated for a few moments more.
And then finally, he summoned his youngest son to him with a clipped howl. [/html]
[html] http://i275.photobucket.com/albums/jj32 ... he/st2.png); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: bottom; padding-bottom: 160px; text-align: justify;"> 
He knew that voice.
He knew it, but he couldn’t believe it. Not for a second. Because why on earth would he track him all the way here? Despite Snake finally being able to make a place for himself in Inferni, he was not a family wolf. When it came to his parents, he was grateful to them for giving him life and raising him, but he couldn’t say that he loved him. For love was a hot, dangerous emotion that Snake did not really take part in. It drove creatures down strange pathways and, sometimes, into madness. He knew this from watching the poisoned words flow between Nikita and Patriot back in New Haven, and knowing that they, once in a time long past, had said they had “loved” one another.
The young coyote had been working hard on restoring the ancient automobile in the landfill—his new home, as it was—and he had been lying on the roof, staring up at the sky when the call came. Despite the confusion that it sent running through his veins, he automatically picked himself up and started to move towards it. One could not say that Snake in any way disliked Laurel, because he didn’t. He had no reason to. But he did not necessarily like him either. In the end, Snake was not motivated by want to see his father again. No, it was curiosity. It brought him back to his first thought—why on earth did his father want to meet with him?
In minutes the son was loping up to his father. A passerby would immediately notice the resemblance: while Foxhound had been mostly covered in the darker hues of their mother, Snake’s sandy-gold fur was the exact same hue as Laurel’s, as were their eyes. The wayward son did not raise those eyes to his father’s yet; no, he wasn’t sure whether he was afraid or confused or both, but he could not meet them. He looked to the side, his gaze partially hidden by the bandanna that was on his head. After a moment, he murmured in an innocuous voice, “Hello, Father.”
[/html]
[html] After a few moments, he spotted glimpses of Snake’s sandy-form coming towards the border. Even though they had spent a bit of time apart, the changes in the boy were very evident to Laurel, who for a split second was drawn back to his own youth. He had been Snake’s opposite in every way and form and in some ways, he still was barring the obvious. They may have looked identical, but even Laurel knew there was something troubled deep down in that psyche of the boy who was coming towards him. It was in the way he moved, it was in the way that he was briefly regarded; more so in the way that the steps slowed and that gaze avoided him that he knew. Something, for whatever reason he could not and would not pry into, he could clearly see the rift that was between them. A rift that in Laurel’s mind, would most likely never repair. It was what they shared in common: estrangement.
The way he was even spoke to said volumes to him — despite it’s innocuous presentation, it was automatic and flat — and for a moment, Laurel faltered in just knowing what to say. He wasn’t entirely cut out for being a parent and he knew it. Once upon a time he had been, but now… well, he needed not to think about it. Those were memories better left buried at the bottom of a bottle that had gotten him into this particular mess in the first place. “You’ve grown,” he commented idly, hands finding their way into the pockets of trousers that had seen better days. “You look good.” He tried to spy out the expression he was hoping to see in Snake’s eyes, but it was missing as well; non-existent to begin with and buried partially beneath Nikita’s bandana.
“How’s Inferni treatin’ ya?” he asked, floundering through just what he could say or do. He had followed his son out of concern, led on by some paternal click that had never been entirely smothered. Nikita hadn’t wanted to come, hadn’t wanted him to go, but there he was. Days away from his better half trying to look after a boy who had made it very clearly he didn’t need either one of them. A boy who had left very much in the same way Laurel had when he had been half Snake’s age; albeit it was clear to him that his son had faired much better at travelling than he had. [/html]
[html] http://i275.photobucket.com/albums/jj32 ... he/st2.png); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: bottom; padding-bottom: 160px; text-align: justify;">
In truth, there were several ways in which Snake was absolutely identical to his mother and father. They had all felt discordance between themselves and their parents which had eventually left to their divergence. That was decently natural—unless one was born and presented into a family atmosphere and had a mind to stay there, the child would usually leave. What had not happened with either Nikita or Laurel, however, was one of their parents coming to check up on them. That was the reason why Nikita had not come herself—the thought of either Socom or Famas coming to speak with her after she abandoned them was something that was almost laughable. After much discussion, she had allowed Laurel his mission, though she hadn’t been happy about it.
And yet his father was as he remembered him—not that he had really expected any change to have occurred in his absence. The youth gave a small shrug to his father’s comments (Snake was not one to be used to be fussed over, in any regard), though he didn’t respond vocally. The speculations didn’t really make much sense to him—Snake had a bad habit of thinking logically about things (something that also cursed his half-brother, Otacon), so he could see that he had grown because he was young and time had passed, and that he looked good because he had finally been able to take good care of himself in Inferni. After a second of this deliberation, however, he took them for innocuous compliments. Or something of that nature.
So far, even after his father’s question, Snake couldn’t discern why Laurel had come. He feared the worst, actually—had something happened? As for how Inferni, the boy was initially confused about how Laurel knew its name before remembering (duh) that his father had lived here before him. “It’s nice enough here. I was recently made into the… warrior in-training here.” It made perfect sense—Snake had been involved in combat practically since birth. If he hadn’t been a fighter, he would have been dead by now. After a second he shifted his weight nervously and asked, “Is—Is everything alright? Where is Mom?” The slight stammer was uncharacteristic of him, and he frowned at it. It wasn’t as if he truly worried—or was it?
[/html]
[html] Warrior-in-training. That shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it had. But Laurel knew Inferni’s history and standings with the wolf packs that were all around, and given whatever had gone in those first few months when Snake had been in New Haven, it probably suited him. But at least he was doing well there, that was the thing that mattered most. If he was well and things were well, he wouldn’t be too concerned. That was of course, excluded the very real possibility that Inferni would have another tango with their enemies to the west. Even he had found the inhabitants of Dahlia de Mai to be less than open to their cousin canine. But for the most part, there was nothing all that turbid about the majority of the packs.
What was much more pressing at the moment, was Snake’s concern.
“She’s fine, everything’s fine,” he answered, “she’s staying with some friends of ours that we met up with again in Bar Harbor.” A place in which they had been going towards when Snake had flown the coop on them. “It’s about a four or five day walk from here, give or take. She didn’t want to come all the way back here, told me I was being silly for worrying about you.” And now that he had seen him and saw that he was still in one piece and had made it to the only place either of his parents could piece together as where he would go, Laurel thought maybe he had been silly for worrying. [/html]
[html] http://i275.photobucket.com/albums/jj32 ... he/st2.png); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: bottom; padding-bottom: 160px; text-align: justify;">
A small sense of security stole into Snake’s mind as his father assured him that Nikita was alright. He had the right to be alarmed—when he had seen his mother’s desolate outlook on life in general usurped by a much greater optimism and joy after they had met up with Laurel after escaping New Haven, he had been quite sure that she’d never let him out of her sights again. He understood that she might let him go once, though, and he nodded when his father said that she was staying with friends. At least she wasn’t alone. Snake knew that his mother got a little bit… off-kilter when alone, so it was best that she had someone she knew to keep her sane for the most part. With that worry alleviated from his mind, he could get much more focused on the matter of his father’s presence here at all.
The four or five day journey seemed right—Snake, who had no idea where he was going and got lost several times, had made it from where they had been en route to the lands of ‘Souls in around a week, travelling at a easier pace. He looked away at Laurel’s mention of his mother not wanting to come—while Nikita and her son were very similar and could often guess what the other would be thinking, and he knew that she thought them to both be very self-sufficient. As for his father’s worry, Snake wasn’t sure whether to feel cared-for or simply awkward. He went for a middle path between them.
The fact that anyone cared enough about him to travel five days to see him was something that he couldn’t really understand. Love for one’s family took some to great lengths, but the youth couldn’t see himself doing that. He was entirely too self-centered. As Laurel described that he had been worrying, the youth’s head dipped slightly. “You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.” His words were not, however, as arrogant and bratty as they might have been thought to be. They were murmured softly, and earnestly. The truth was that he didn’t want anyone worrying about him because, well, their worries might be well-founded. And it was much more painful for someone’s worries to come to fruition. Or so Snake’s broken logic led him to believe.
[/html]
[html] He didn’t have to worry about him, but that’s exactly what he knew he would do. And that was the thing that Laurel seemingly did, despite his laid back approach to everything. He was a worrier by default, a trait that had been exacerbated more and more the older that he got. It seemed for every ounce of experience in the big game of life he received, another thing he found he had to worry about. There had been a time when his worries didn’t extend beyond finding a place to sleep and something to eat and drink, but those were long behind him. He had learned self-sufficency. There had been a time when he wondered what he was experimenting with would send him down a path and around a bad turn; he learned quickly who were the right folk to be dabbling in when it came to substance.
Parenting shouldn’t have been something so new to him, not with his track record and the wake he had unknowingly left behind, but he found for every little milestone achieved there too was something else to worry about. It wasn’t easy to handle either, not when he felt like he was dealing with a bristling feral whatever that he had backed up into a corner. Even though Snake possessed a great deal of stoicism, Laurel felt the unseen presence of something unpredictable there. So for the achievements that his son had made already within Inferni were suddenly more understandable.
“Yeah,” he said flatly, “I guess that’s true. I’d expect no less, y’know.” Given Snake’s heritage, he was certainly well-equipped in the brains department, surely. Maybe they weren’t a picture perfect family, but there was some sort mutual understanding beneath all of that. Perfection wasn’t as perfect as it was led to believe, anyway. “But there’s always a difference between believing something and then seeing it with your own eyes.” Yet looks were always deceiving, weren’t they? “But your mom will be happy to know you’re okay, either way.” [/html]
Sorry for holding this up, Akumu. D:
[html] http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x242 ... ntable.png); background-color:#ffffff; background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; text-align:justify;">
Though he would never admit it—not even to himself—Snake did, from time to time, send a wayward thought towards his parents. Primarily his mother, though (it was no offense to Laurel, of course, but he hadn’t known him as long). He knew from watching her rail and despair in New Haven that she hated her past life, and especially hated many of her children—primarily the ones that took so much after Patriot, such as Zero, Ray, and Rex. She had been especially pained when she saw Foxhound’s corruption. Snake knew that she loved him and his brother the most, perhaps because she wondered if her children from anyone besides Patriot would be anywhere close to normal. When that didn’t work out, well, it had hurt her. That was why she took Snake with her—she had seen a glimpse of hope within him, and tried to allow it to grow by letting him meet his father and see the world.
Unfortunately for the woman, Snake never managed to shift from where his mind had been before. He knew that, out of all of her children, he was her favorite, but he simply couldn’t locate within himself the love necessary to give her what she wanted. It was a file that was simply left out of his programming, or so it seemed. But, seeing his father here and his mother absent, that made Snake feel something cold and uncomfortable growing within him. It might have been guilt, or pity, or even remorse; he didn’t know which. No matter what he did, he felt as though he caused his mother pain, and even managed to extort some worry from his father. He had never wanted any of it.
His hands slowly clenched into fists at his sides, though he moved them slightly, as to hide it from Laurel. He had to keep his emotionless façade, no matter the cost. He understood what he meant to say, though—at least he had gotten to see him, and he could tell his mom that he was okay. That allowed that dreadful feeling to alleviate some, but it was definitely still here. Squirming a little inside, Snake nodded and replied, “If either of you must, you’re welcome to come and check on me. I don’t think anyone here will mind.” They were coyotes, of course, and family members. Plus, Snake had the sneaking suspicion that many would know them. This statement, along with Laurel’s final mention of his mother, shrunk still that feeling, but it was not yet gone. He frowned, trying to figure out a way to return to his usual, uneventful, quiescent self. Finally, he looked down and murmured, “Tell Mom that I miss her—sometimes—and that I hope she’s okay. And… and it was nice seeing you again, Dad.”
And then the feeling was gone, reduced to where it was no more. But the most curious aspect of all of this was that Snake didn’t have the metallic taste in his mouth that resulted from him telling lies. He didn’t feel it was truth that he missed his mother, or that he was glad to see his father, but nonetheless they seemed truth to him. Perhaps he did do those things, but merely didn’t notice it. Were there mechanics happening beneath the exterior of his thoughts that he had no recollection of? The thought frightened him… but it also gave him a strange, warm feeling. Perhaps a feeling of hope.
table credit goes to jacoby [/html]
|
