You don't say a single word of the last two years

POSTED: Tue Jan 13, 2015 4:08 pm

263 Awkward family 8D;

The King had returned.

Even as he padded down the hallway from his room toward the office, something tattered in his hand, Pascal didn't know what quite to feel. It wasn't as if he was being neglected when his father left to visit his other family; Silvano took interest in his personal projects and was there when he needed him, occasions that were few and far between since Pascal was an adult. But it was still his other family, and he would not forget the day Silvano had chosen to tell him the truth of his trips to the northern forests. That had hurt him more than anything, and yet while he couldn't quite forgive he couldn't hate his father.

He tried real hard, Pascal thought. He paused outside the office door, lingering out of sight of the doorway, and straightened trembling arms and squared his broad shoulders. He was not tall like his father, but he was strong. And his mother had given him a strong heart, too, full of love. He sighed and looked down at the thing in his hand—a paperback, broken-spined and missing pages, held tenderly like a baby bird. Maybe that was what made it so hard to know what to feel this time, just like every time.

Hi, Papa, the wolf said, stepping into the office. He did not wear one of his fake smiles, and only fixed mismatched eyes on the tall King as he set the sad little book on the corner of the desk. How was your trip?

Last edited by Pascal Sadira on Fri Jan 16, 2015 11:10 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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POSTED: Thu Jan 15, 2015 12:36 am

Silvano was taking the time back from Vinatta to relax with his mind to himself. It had been good to see his two youngest children and getting some perspective from the youngest in his second litter. It was getting hard to properly distinguish his children from one another. It was easier to label Eugene the eldest, Myrkr the youngest, Abigail the eldest girl and Thyri the youngest girl. Alessan and Pascal seemed stuck with no label in his head, so no distinguishing name. Still, they were all his children and he loved them irrevocably.

Rubbing at his eyes as he turned a page in the long novel from a long dead author. It was a fantasy novel, something he rarely indulged in and the concepts in it were fantastical to say the least. Dragons in the sky? There was plenty he did not understand and the references the author made that a modern human ought to have recognized stumped him, forcing him to plow through them. The mentions of meat made him hungry, though, and he was itching for a meal when the sound of someone entering his office made him look up.

"Pascal," said the man in surprise at the sight of his son. There was no smile on the younger man's face and so the King had a hard time reading his mood. That was just the way Pascal was, impossible to read. "It was fine, uneventful. I actually have some things for you." He smiled at his son as genially as he could while he reached into one of the shelves beneath his desk and pulled out a neatly folded scarf. Another pair lay below those, gifts for the other son and daughter living with him at the Court. "It's a scarf for you," he said, sliding it across the table to his son.


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POSTED: Fri Jan 16, 2015 11:10 pm

395 RAAAMBLINGGG

Ears swiveled forward at mention of something for him, and Pascal straightened a little until a folded thing of wool was pulled from the desk and slid across its surface to him. He picked at it with a claw, unfolding it to about half its length, then let his shoulders slump a little as Silvano said that it was a scarf. He remembered liking his father's own scarf when he was a puppy, and occasionally letting Giselle swaddle him in something similar -- but he wasn't sure if he could stand to have wool itching against his coat all day.

Does she know I don't like to wear things? Pascal asked, assuming whom the gift had come from. But he studied the scarf a few moments more and unraveled it again, lifting it and setting it on his shoulders awkwardly. His skin prickled beneath its weight, but he reached up to the gold rose necklace and toyed with it with a claw, after a moment exhaling. It's really thoughtful, he said, glancing up again. He didn't emote, as he never really emoted, but purposefully wrapped the scarf around his throat once and tried to pretend it didn't feel like it was choking him -- or that the thought was choking him, he wasn't sure which. That Shiloh had thought of him at all surprised him, and he wasn't sure if it was genuine good-will or an awkward attempt to gain his favor. She didn't have to, he told his father, but sighed and studied the desk again.

Are the little ones okay? I guess they're talking and stuff now. He wondered if they would remain with their mother in Vinátta or if he'd ever meet them; he'd yet to meet his first younger brother, though he adored Abigail.

He cleared his throat, shifting his weight from leg to leg, then said, I wanted to ask you some advice about my rank. I mean... I'm a Margave now, and. He hesitated, not certain how to voice his worries. He'd been oh so proud to be promoted, for the implication that he was contributing to the pack -- but his actual unique skills were few. He certainly didn't want anyone to think taht his father had promoted him out of favoritism and pity.

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POSTED: Sat Jan 17, 2015 7:22 pm

Silvano eyed his son - not the youngest any more by any means. He was an adult, but it was hard to stop treating him as his child. Eugene, too, still seemed like the little boy he had been more than a year ago. A full four turns of the seasons plus, thought the King with surprise. Where did the time go? Was that why his limbs seemed more reluctant to bend in the coldest part of the mornings and evenings. Without a word, Silvano watched as his son countered the offer - almost grudgingly if the lack of emotion was easy to judge. It wasn't, but he was merely guessing now with Pascal.

"I warned her you might not like it," he said in reply, though his warning had been more of a casual nature instead of the actual reason Pascal would not like it. Silvano was not really aware that this particular son of his had any negative opinion on scarves, and was glad to see him at least trying it on. How comfortable he was wearing it, that he could not say. At least he did not call Shiloh names - but Pascal was not likely to do that.

"I'll tell her you like it but maybe next time I'll suggest something else for you, something you're more likely to use. How about that?" he suggested with a smile, watching the younger male's gaze shift down the desk. As always, he seemed reluctant to meet his gaze but by now, Silvano merely dismissed it as one of Pascal's peculiarities. Though Pascal's interest, even fleetingly so, in the youngest litter surprised the King, he was glad that the male was not looking at his expression at that moment. "They seem to be doing alright, especially after their mother's illness." Was Shiloh's name not to be uttered around his family? She was as much a part of his life as his two elder sons but still hesitated to mention her around them both.

"Indeed you are; you've earned it," he said firmly, hoping that his son had not come to ask him why he had been given the rank when everyone who moved up in the Court had done their share to earn their rise. Pascal may have been different from everyone else in many ways, he still worked to earn what he had. Simple. And if people accused him of favoritism, then he could easily order them to drop it - though that would merely enforce the idea he was merely generous to his son.

Silvano leaned forward onto his desk, propped up on his elbows as he lay his hand atop the other. "What did you need, Pascal? Ideas? Suggestions?" he began, waiting for his son to continue.


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POSTED: Thu Jan 22, 2015 11:36 pm

371

That sounds fair, Pascal replied. I don't want to hurt her feelings. He twitched his ears and suggested, voice rising to a level of confidence: Perhaps she could make wicks for me, if she has leftover yarn and things. Did -- she like the candles? He scratched absently at his skin underneath the scarf, wondering still if their exchange of gifts was a formality, a polite sham, or if both of them did care -- if this was affection rather than guilt on Shiloh's part. He supposed it didn't matter, in the end, if they were doing the right thing.

He had been concerned when Shiloh fell ill -- remembered it clearly. It was the most they'd ever talked, he thought, as he brought her a book to read while she was resting in the Court, though he disappeared all too quickly when the sickness clutched her, hiding in the hall.

I'm glad, was all he said, his voice soft. And he meant it, truly. He could not imagine how he would feel if Abigail fell ill.

His ears twitched at Silvano's insistence that he earned his rank, and they fell bashfully against his curls. He rubbed at his arm and was at a loss for words for a moment in his gratitude, but pushed onward when his father prompted him. I contribute best I can -- and I know I do well providing food and labor for the pack's needs, and... candles. His ears fanned awkwardly again, clearly read despite the stillness of his face. I want to provide more than that -- more things, I mean. Become a better craftsman. I've dabbled with wood and clay, and... it doesn't work, so well.

Pascal reached up to rub thoughtfully at his mouth. I didn't know if you knew about other things we might need, things I could try. I know the animal fat and other things that I use for my candles I can use for glue, and I've tried to mend books... There were other uses for tallow, too, like soaps, but Pascal still felt like something was missing. He hoped dearly that his father's wisdom included some experience in these things.

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POSTED: Tue Jan 27, 2015 5:16 pm

Silvano shook his head. "I'm sure it won't hurt her feelings. She doesn't get to spend much time with you so how can she be expected to know what you do and do not like?" His smile was reassuring but he did not know if it came across that way to Pascal. Still, his eyes softened even more when he could detect the little hint of nervousness over his offer of candles. Was it that, though? He wondered. "She did, she very much appreciated them. And next time I'll ask her about the wicks; I'm sure she'll have plenty of left over yarn or cloth to give." He hoped that it was a sign of Pascal's acceptance of the situation; he had not been very happy when he had found out.

The King was not sure if he had ever really seen Pascal behave like this. It made him seem almost.. normal. That was a harsh thing to say about his son, wasn't it? Still, he almost beamed with pride at the fact the younger male was so invested in their home and their lives. "Practice makes perfect," intoned the man from an absently remembered quote. It seemed futile to practice if aiming for perfection since nothing was ever perfect. But it did make things that much simpler.

"No, I'm afraid we'd need someone to do intensive inventory to see what we do have and what we're going to need." Silvano rubbed at his scar as he thought, a new habit he must have picked up because of the damned thing and the wintry weather. "Glue? That's pretty helpful with the books. Some of those dead humans did not do a good job taking care of them." Never mind that their apocalypse had abruptly brought their civilization to a grinding, screeching halt.

"I know that some medics use the fat for ointments, especially mixed with herbs and things. You could see if Rei knows of anything and you could potentially help him make it?" His brows raised, wondering what other applications there were. "I can look for a book on it, next time I'm out. Maybe someone in Vinatta has one I could borrow." He did not know but he could not help but promise something to his son.


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