[P] I think we're haunted
P. Silvano | Chien Hotel
#1
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The days since Mistral's execution and Kalypso's rise to Reine had passed quietly to Thyri, who had spent much of her time nursing her wounds in the hotel. Convalescence required a great deal of time spent doing little more than sleeping and thinking. And in her thoughts, Thyri found that it had been easier for her to accept Kalypso as her half-sister than it had been to accept Silvano's infidelity. And this, the middle daughter had found, caught her up in a place of confusion and overwhelming disappointment.


Tentatively bending the fingers Mistral had broken during her brutal assault, Thyri hissed and clicked her teeth in frustration. Where before she would take to the training grounds in order to clear her mind and vent her anger, the bruises in her ribs and the cracks in her fingers prevented her from doing much more than sitting in her room and resting.


Though dead now for days, the usurper Queen had control over her still.


Pulling herself up carefully with help from her staff, Thyri rose from her pile of furs and ambled slowly to her door, deciding that if she couldn't beat her frustrations out on wooden dummies then she could meet the problem directly. Shutting the door behind her, Thyri started down the hall at a snail's pace and considered all the things that she wanted to say.


Once at the place that he had taken up residence, Thyri rapped roughly at his door with the butt of her staff. "It's Thyri," she said dully. "I need to talk to you." But when she passed through his door and saw his face – a face that, though aged and defeated, was still the face of her dear father – Thyri marveled at how quickly her mind could forget all those things she'd rehearsed in her mind to say.


[WC — 314]


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#2
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We’re the only ones who know

There were suddenly more gaps in his memory than he thought, but he chalked it up to having more insomnia at night than he used to, despite the brews that Thyri had frequently provided him. They seemed to do so little for him then, especially as his thoughts continued to beat against his skull despite the numbing supposedly provided by the herbs.


Thyri spoke at the door, and he had no choice but to tell her to come in. He could not avoid his children forever, and it was better to get it over with when he could. He was surprised to hear her coming to him, for she seemed like one of the children most likely to avoid him until she was ready to speak herself. His eldest two with their shared mother had already come to see him, making it clear the way they felt. Kalypso came to see him too, though never for longer than to see how he was and to see if he needed anything. She seemed partially guilty, at least. That made him feel better somewhat.


He looked up at her with all the age that he somehow suddenly felt. He knew that there was more white in his muzzle than there used to be, and somehow his limbs felt more sore than they ever had before. Without Shiloh, somehow he felt as though he was only dragging on, waiting for the inevitable. It was a quiet sort of acceptance too, but it left him with a very tired gaze.


"Have you come to ask why I was such a terrible man?" he gave her a weak smile, elbows leaning on his knees, back arched forward as he sat on the bed he had once shared with his wife, the mother of six of his ten children. He felt her absence more keenly than his children likely believed, considering that he had violated his relationship with her once before. Shiloh had been a rock, after all, and he had hastened to do his duty by her when she joined them properly. He doubted they would believe him.


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[html]<div class="silvsig2">
  <div class="title">SILVANO SADIRA</div>
<span style="font-family:'Amatic SC', serif;">Now, I've learned it's better living in the moment. Enjoy youth, cause it doesn't last.</span><br>
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#3
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When had he gotten so grey and aged? Even since the very beginning of Mistral's usurpation of the throne and the injustices that followed, when his hand was still freshly lost and the shock of being forcibly denounced still forefront in their minds, Silvano had not looked as grizzled and bowed to her then as he did now. Thyri studied him carefully, her soft green eyes pouring over his grey hair and tired expression


She sighed, the act of inhaling so deeply to breathe out again eliciting a twitch of her brows. Her ribs still ached and her fingers were still rigid in their splints, though her face had long scabbed over and was starting to look a little less raw. She hadn't yet looked at herself, too afraid of what she'd see beyond just the wounds that Mistral had left her with. Would the grief that still hung heavy in her heart show in her eyes? Would the shame and the anger and the feelings of betrayal? She didn't want to know.


"I don't know," Thyri replied at last, taking a seat close to her father. "I feel... I feel..." She trailed off, trying to grasp at precisely what she was feeling and coming up short. "Why?" She looked up at him with shining eyes. She hadn't meant to become emotion but then, Thyri had always had her mother's passion. "I just don't understand. Why?" With shoulders slouched, she sniffled. "You loved her, didn't you?" She shook her head and sighed again, looking down at her hands. Thyri suddenly felt very young. "Is this what love is?"


Maybe losing Merlin had been a blessing in disguise because if it was, she didn't want it. "Are there others?" she asked after a while, lifting her eyes to look at him again.


OOC: Ugh Silvano why u do these things to my heart?

[WC — 311]


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#4
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We’re the only ones who know

His daughter did not glare at him, speak coldly, or anything that he would have expected of her or that he had seen of other children of his. Thyri seemed more confused than anything else, which he could hardly fault her on. It had confused him, too, that he had such a high moral standard that he failed to uphold in such a way. It had been his inner conflict for so long that it had become second-nature to disregard in his head. Being forced to address it openly was a challenge after having hidden it for so long.

Thyri sat next to him, something that also surprised him. He looked at her with raised brows, but he could see that his inability to maintain monogamy had affected her own thoughts around it. He did not know how to persuade her that his actions did not reflect the actions of others.

”I don’t have an excuse. At least, not a good one.” He shook his head then, brows furrowing. ”My actions are not justifiable.” He felt his fingers link together and interlock as he started to recall quite a few things, but a bit slower than he would have liked. It took a moment of silent thought, really, and he wondered why.

Your mother came just before Kalypso’s mother left. I was duty locked to stay in the Court. Your mother did not want to abandon her home, the place you had been born.” He stared into the wall, feeling oddly numb about it all. He had never put it into words, honestly, and it felt like he was trying to justify it to himself why he did it. Even Silvano could not believe the excuse he chose to use. ”It’s hard making that trip often when you have a pack to run.” His voice was soft as he stared down at his hands.

Thyri was passionate, but he could tell that she was really afraid that this was the romantic reality she faced. It may have been, but he would never say as much. ”No, Thyri, this is not what love is. This is what fear and weakness are.” His tone was firm, solid, more concrete than it had been.

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[html]<div class="silvsig2">
  <div class="title">SILVANO SADIRA</div>
<span style="font-family:'Amatic SC', serif;">Now, I've learned it's better living in the moment. Enjoy youth, cause it doesn't last.</span><br>
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#5
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Shiloh was gone, her spirit departed to fight and dine and dance among the Valkyries, and that left Silvano as her only remaining parent. As much as his old mistakes and poor decisions confused and disheartened her, he was still her father – that would never change. But in her heart, there was an aching disappointment and feelings of betrayal; such things that reminded her that their relationship was forever altered and could not return to the way it was before.


Before.


She supposed that she should be angry. It would be easier, to yell and glower and snarl; to punch at walls and claw at wood and throw objects to the ground in fury. But she was so tired of fighting and the grief of her mother's death still weighed like an anchor on her soul. Her ribs ached and her face stung and her fingers throbbed. She didn't want to fight with her father. She just wanted the truth; she wanted to try and understand why.


But she found that she couldn't. His words, his explanations – they were nothing. They made no sense. "Why didn't you let her go, then?" she asked and a revelation hit her like the sun breaking free of the horizon. A sob caught in her throat. "She might still be alive, if only you'd let her go." Her voice was thick and raw and, oh, how much her heart hurt.


Her throat tightened around itself and her head pounded with the effort of holding back the overwhelming urge to break down, to weep and sob and wail. Thyri was quiet then, for a long time. She swallowed hard, sniffing, and managed, with difficulty, to compose herself.


Looking up, her brows heavy, Thryi met her father's eyes again. "You were my hero, once," she said, her voice hollow and distant. "But I'm not so sure what you are any more." Her heart broke at her own words and she brushed away a tear that threatened to fall.


[WC — 339]


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#6
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We’re the only ones who know

How could he let go of Shiloh? He had nearly lost his sister in childhood, lost his adopted brother to a murderous woman, too. He nearly lost Pascal to who knew who. His children had been kidnapped, his grandchildren, too. How could he ever let anyone go when they had all been at risk of disappearing truly from his life? He could not let go easily, not these fragile connections to the world around him. He had seen first-hand how much he had risked to lose and had been unwilling to face that loss again.

”I did not want to let her go because I love your mother.” He would love her till his death, even if he had transgressed against her. His guilt had been a constant presence with him after beginning his dalliance with Mara, though it had been difficult to listen to his moral center. The affair continued too long, for all that he cared for the former spy and ambassador, he had loved his wife first and foremost. ”I will hope when I die, she will forgive me,” he said softly, feeling emotion choking his throat.

But Thyri was not done. She had her grievances, but if she thought her words hurt, she was unfortunately mistaken. He already hurt and he had heard the same words before, very recently and long before.

He smiled sadly. ”You are not the first of my children to say that to me.” He knew Pascal had always struggled with his first major infidelity – though he had only ever had two infidelities in his life in general. ”I won’t be mad at you for that,” he said with a shake of his head.

It did occur to him that perhaps they had set themselves up to give their children these delusions. No one was perfect, least of all one’s parents. He did not think his own parents had a lack of troubles but he still viewed them fondly because they had been the best parents he could have hoped for. He should have never encouraged, however proudly, that his children put him or Shiloh on a pedestal.

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[html]<div class="silvsig2">
  <div class="title">SILVANO SADIRA</div>
<span style="font-family:'Amatic SC', serif;">Now, I've learned it's better living in the moment. Enjoy youth, cause it doesn't last.</span><br>
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#7
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Misery settled over her shoulders like a weighted shawl.


Silence followed Silvano's words and Thyri shifted her eyes from her father's face. She looked at her feet and closed her eyes and everything: pain and anger; shame and defeat; confusion and concern; grief and betrayal. With her elbows atop her knees, Thyri held her face carefully in her hands and said nothing.


After a while, the sharp agony from the lacerations across her face and the dull ache from the fractures in her fingers became too much and she lifted her head again, turning jade eyes to a wall across the room. Finally, with a heavy sigh, she rose. "I need to think," she said, standing next to her father crookedly, wrapping her good arm around her bruised ribs.


Thyri wished that her scathing words had had more of an effect on her father, not because she wanted him to hurt (but she would be lying if she denied wishing to hurt him as his infidelity hurt her) but because seeing him so downtrodden and defeated felt terribly wrong. It was reminiscent of someone giving up; of someone reaching the end of the rope and letting go.


But she had her own thoughts and her own emotions and hearing her father's words – his reasons and his excuses and his expressions of love – had filled Thyri's heart with more than she could process with him in the same room. She looked at him again, her eyes glossy, soft, and sad. "I just... I just..." She blinked and turned her face away from him again. "I just wish none of this was happening."


Shuffling to the door, Thyri swung it gently open and hovered in the doorway. She gave her father a final glance, opened her mouth as though to say something, then closed it again and hurried out, shutting the door quietly behind her.


In the hallway, Thyri leaned against the wall and sunk to the floor. There, with her head in her arms, she wept. And, amidst her myriad emotions, she regretted that she had not had the strength of spirit to swallow her pride and say to her father the words that she had suppressed.


That, despite everything, she still loved him.


[WC — 377]


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#8
[html]
We’re the only ones who know

”Me, too, Thyri. Me, too.” He let his daughter go without any more commentary, his sad smile falling off of his face as his eyes fell to the floor. There was an air of exhaustion about him, as though he had run a marathon and had been forced to pretend it did not wind him. It was a kind of continuous ache in his chest, he felt, that his daughter was no longer within reach of him. It was an acute kind of loss, that sense that once a child considered their parent a superhero but no longer could continue such a fantasy.

Thyri had to make her own decisions. Silvano could not provide her any comfort, not with his trespasses. But they were very much alike, with their highly lofty morals. What he had done violated all of them, like checking boxes on a list. It was against both of their natures, though he wondered how much it could affect Thyri, who had not thought him capable of such a thing. Lord knew that he had struggled to come to terms with it all himself, even though he was the one who had done the violations in the first place.

It was a sort of acceptance of the unacceptable. He would never be at peace with it, not until he lay down for the last time. Perhaps, then, he would feel some level of understanding over what he had done. Silvano simply, truly, hoped that at that time, his children would at least come to forgive him enough to make his remaining time mean something. He hoped they would. He hoped they would remember he was their father first, and a man second.

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[html]<div class="silvsig2">
  <div class="title">SILVANO SADIRA</div>
<span style="font-family:'Amatic SC', serif;">Now, I've learned it's better living in the moment. Enjoy youth, cause it doesn't last.</span><br>
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