08 . family drama

[necrolord]

Who: necrolord, Gideon, Harrow, Paul; Oscar, Ruby, Ozpin, maybe Qrow and Ange; possibly others.
What: Some kids robbed a lich and got their hands melted off. The fallout is messy.
When: April, following the party, network post, and Oscar's log.
Where: Bone House & Clockhouse

Content Warnings: Marked as needed. Note all the usual warnings of this character.

Comments

THE DINNER

[necrolord]

greenhouse interlude | oscar pine

[terriblepurpose]

[Paul is well-fed and thoroughly bewildered by the time he and Oscar step aside to the greenhouse at his suggestion, made with vague allusions towards sorting this all out, one on one.

The truth is that Paul has found himself rocked back on his heels, thrown on the defensive like anyone expecting a trap and met with garlic bread might be. He's tense and poised in his formal blacks with their silver pins at the collar, and if he were given to fidgeting he might spin either of his rings, the Atreides sigil on one hand and a modest twist of silver holding a Paleblood stone on the other. If he were given to being an absolute idiot, he might touch the hilt of the knife hidden up his sleeve for reassurance. He does neither. He simply is aware of all of these various anchors, and the much more critical one elsewhere in the house having an evening Paul is intent on not ruining.

But it itches at him, this sense of things being not right. A certainty that something is askew, that a trap is still here, unsprung.

Maybe that's the trick. Maybe he's being baited out, crumb by crumb, until he proves their suspicions.]

So.

[Paul lets out a soft breath as the door closes behind him, turning to face the one who closed it. He summons a look of contrition, which is easiest because it's the most real, and inclines his head, his gaze already slipped away to rest on a nearby plant.]

I'd like to start with an apology. I shouldn't have spoken to you that way. I didn't realize who you were. [He reaches towards one of the leaves, but stops short of touching it.] You have a beautiful garden.

[justoscar]

[For all of the bravado that Oscar had worn during this entire affair, the frustrations of maintaining such a front in the face of the unknown was starting to wear on him. He had said and done things that he regretted, even though it would still be a lie to admit that he was sorry for his actions.

He wasn't. He would do it again.

But the strain of carrying that burden along with the rest of his responsibilities was only obvious when he stepped into the artificially lit greenhouse and breathed. Shoulders dropping, he took a moment to just appreciate the smell of clean dirt while he listened to Paul's words.]

... You don't need to apologize, [he cut in quickly, dropping all of his acts and just being... Himself. An ordinary farmhand who liked the ordinary things in life.]

I should have said something to you. But... I panicked.

It's never good when anyone panics.

[Seeing Paul's curious hands, he picked off a sprig of basil for the other teen to investigate and appreciate.]

Before everything happened and hit the road to find Ruby, I was helping my Aunt with the family farm. Gardening helps me feel better when things are going wrong.

[Bushing his fingers over his herbs and the tiny green tomatoes that were no bigger than marbles, he added:]

I lost all this when the dream collapsed, but I managed to store a lot of the seeds away. When we found this house again, it was nice to find out that the seeds were still viable after everything.

[terriblepurpose]

[On the network, it had been like speaking with someone entirely different from the tiredly determined and earnest boy in front of him now. Paul accepts the sprig of basil with a flicker of surprise cresting through his own careful composition, looking down at it in his palm longer than he should. He rolls the herb between his fingertips, delicately bruising it to bring its volatile oils to the surface, and raises it to his face to breathe it in.]

You're right about panic. [Paul glances up, his wariness undercut by muted regret.] But I do need to apologize. I am sorry.

[He's sorry for a great many things. It's not difficult to be. He'd be better off if it didn't come so easily to him, this constant, pointless sorriness. He watches Oscar skim his fingers (whole, intact) over his salvaged plants, and he can't help but recall the impulse of recognition that led him to invite Oscar over for the first time. He can't help but feel it again.]

I'm glad you were able to save something. It would be a shame to lose all of this. [He puts every tonal modifier for not-a-threat he knows into the words, in the hopes they'll be understood.] ...it's funny, isn't it?

[The question floats suspended between them, ambiguously framed as Paul lowers his hand, exhaling rich, cool air subtly flooded with the scent of earth and living green things.]

You'd think that practice at losing things would make you better at it. It never seems to work that way. At least not in my experience.

[justoscar]

[It wouldn't have been the first time Oscar was accused of being someone different. His first encounter with Ruby involved Qrow.... well, crowing about how he found Ozpin in a fit of drunken giddiness that ultimately broke the coffee table. At night, when shadows stretched beyond his grasp and the clocked ticked determinedly into eternity, he still could hear a certain question when he was at his most anxious:

"To whom am I speaking?"

In many ways, Paul had been speaking to Oscar on the network that evening-- but also someone who was so much more than anything Oscar could muster as just... himself.

He dimly recognized that this must be what the path towards corruption meant for him. It meant losing the parts that made him an individual-- the parts that he broke his egg and murdered a young girl to keep.]

...Losing things never makes you any better at it,

[He said quietly, with the odd gravity that sometimes fell on him when he was feeling a tad grim. It was times like these that Dipper would pull him aside for something ridiculous, or Ruby would blow straw paper wrappers at him for.

Paul was Paul. He didn't know the depths of what the being known as Oz had to endure.]

It just shows you different ways to lose, and it never gets easier.

Dinner Time

[onekindsoul]

[Look. Ruby was more than a little confused at everything that had unfolded here. She had met everyone involved at one point or another.

She had fought this weird Necromancer's skeletons in the arena. She had fought beside Gideon and Paul during the ordeal with the Leviathan. She could admit that Jod seemed a little off, but so did a lot of people in Trench. Stealing from him didn't seem like the way to go but she could understand Oscar's concern too. She didn't like him getting his hand melted off either.

Luckily that was fixed and it looked like they were making attempts at peace. This she could get behind, she could support friends getting along with all of her heart.

Which is why she is right there at the dinner table stuffing her face the moment she can.]

I hommmph ewww guyphs rrrr unnngeee!

[She says this with a mouth full of food. Great host here, that's for sure. If anyone looks too serious she is going to throw a piece of garlic bread at them. When they look her way she'll look away and grin mischievously.]

gideon nav | ota

[lipochrome]

[ Gideon Nav is here to eat a lasagna.

And garlic bread. And cocoa. And deserts -- more than one, if possible. Secondary to this very urgent culinary mission is making sure that Paul (and to a lesser extent, Harrow, for once) keep their cool throughout the meal.

Gideon arrives in high spirits, amicable and friendly to anyone who approaches her. During any discussion of a "fern," Gideon simply zones out. Plants are kind of boring, honestly. They're like, really fancy molds, right?

During the dinner, however, it feels like Gideon is the one who's going to lose her cool. The feeling comes on slowly, and it's only when everyone is nearly done with their meal that Gideon realizes what it is.

Gideon does not ask for seconds on her lasagna. She does not finish her desert. Instead, she hungrily stares at Ruby Rose and her weird green grandfather, as if the large meal she's just eaten was nowhere near filling.

Things are going to be different here, someone kept telling her, and Gideon hadn't understood what he meant, until now. Now, she sees different, and she hates it. She wants it so, so badly. She thinks she might need a carry-out container. ]

during the dinner

[slayerskiss]

[Faith, likewise, tends to react to these big family dinners with something nearing discomfort. She prefers to eat with Tara up in their room. She doesn't want to leave her to her own devices while everyone else is down here being... something resembling what a family is probably supposed to look like.

She's been told by a few people she trusts to ask for what she wants. She still doesn't. How could she ask for something she doesn't trust is real?

She glances over at Gideon and her strange date, ignoring any malice she might sense off the date (She's used to it), she decides she's had enough and she's decided she's merciful enough to spare Gideon as well.]

Yo, wanna come check out the garden?

[lipochrome]

[ Faith is a hero. Faith swoops in with an offer that Gideon will be grateful for, forever after. Silently, Gideon thinks thank you, followed by I owe you one. She tries to not give any of that away, though, instead opting for a slight nod. ]

Yeah, sure. That sounds cool.

[ Plants aren't actually that cool, but whatever. Gideon wastes no time getting the fuck out of there, and once she's confident she and Faith are out of earshot of the dinner, she asks: ]

Is it always like that, down there? [ Like that is not said especially positively, and Gideon follows up with a slight grimace. ]

[slayerskiss]

[Plants aren't cool at all especially because one apparently ate Oscar's hand and now everyone's mad about it, but it's a decent cover up. She gives Gideon a glance at that and huffs a humourless laugh.]

First time? [Buffy's house was like this. Buffy, Dawn, Joyce. A happy family with squabbling sisters and a loving mother. Faith went home to her empty motel room confused and more lonely than she began every time.] Yeah. More or less. I try to avoid the big family dinners.

It's weird to be on the outside. I don't, uh, actually live here. [There's an undercurrent to her tone that implies she has no idea what it's like to be on the inside too.]

During the dinner.

[onekindsoul]

[Grandfather might be a little bit of a strong word to call Ozpin. What made their relations and relationship a thing was a long and sort of awkward story. He was still her former teacher and ally in a fight they probably couldn't win first and foremost, but family was slowly creeping it's way up the list. She doesn't notice the looks she's getting from Gideon at first, she's too busy chatting with Ange and stuffing her own face.

Eventually she does get the feeling something is up and she kind of looks the other girls way. They had fought together once or twice and she had spent a bit of time with Gideon at Paul's party. But she didn't quite understand what this was coming from.

Eventually she'll speak up.]

Hey. You uh-

Want to play some Mario Cart?

[lipochrome]

[ Gideon blinks, as if shocked, or stunned out of whatever weird shit she was pulling. Ruby asks a question that's she's not quite sure how to parse -- something about a game, maybe? If you play it?

She doesn't want to seem weird, though. Or weirder than she already is. So after a moment's hesitation, she manages to respond with: ] -- Oh. Uh. Yeah. Sure?

[ very smooth. nice work, griddle. ]

What's Mario Cart?

after dinner

[clocktowers]

[ The table is cleared, the dishes shuffled away and their guests waved off to socialize. Paul has already been swept off somewhere by Oscar, and Ozpin is peripherally aware of their conversation as a distant thrum of secondhand emotion. He does not try to pry. Instead, he thinks he might, however briefly, extricate his companion from Ruby's rather high-energy clutches. ]

Miss Nav? [ She isn't his student, but the formality is polite habit. ] Would you care for a cup of cocoa? We do have tea, if you prefer.

[lipochrome]

[ Who the fuck is Miss Nav? It takes Gideon a moment to realize oh, shit, the weird green professor is talking to her, and she turns around a bit too quickly once she's realized she's the dumbest person in the universe. ]

Oh, uh, sure? I'll take the hot chocolate stuff. [ hopefully that's what cocoa is. Gideon is, like, ninety-nine percent sure, but it's that one percent that's kind of stressing her out. ] Thanks.

[ this is a very weird offer to make to a total stranger, so she adds: ]

What's...up?

[ nice. very smooth. ]

[clocktowers]

[ An unhelpful habit, then; he resolves to simply Gideon. His answering smile is mild and fond, reassuring. ]

Nothing of note. It's become uncommon that we find ourselves entertaining new company... I was rather hoping you'd indulge an old man in conversation.

[ He turns away, towards the kitchen, his head tipped in invitation. ]

THE SLEEPOVER

[necrolord]

FOR GIDEON

[necrolord]

[lipochrome]

[ When Gideon Nav walks back from one large, ugly house to another, she's uncharacteristically quiet and unusually fast. She says very little to Paul, who is either preoccupied with his own problems, doing her a solid, or both. Either way, Gideon isn't paying much attention to him.

God had made her an offer, weeks ago, and Gideon didn't take it. She figured it was a lie, or a con, or some other way to manipulate her. But now, as Gideon walks up the stairs of a house she might as well call a home, she realizes none of that mattered. Keeping her distance hasn't kept Harrow or Paul or even Kaworu safe. All it's done is add unnecessary strain.

The house is cold, and Gideon knows she's the person letting the chill in.

For once, Gideon does not linger at any doors. She barely knocks on the one to God's study. After a single rap, she pushes the thing wide open, takes a deep breath, and starts talking before she can turn right back into a big fucking coward. ]

I'm ready. [ The words feel hot and heavy on her tongue, and she feels like she's ran ten miles, but she can't stop now. She can't keep fucking up. ] You -- you once told me you and Harrow lived as family. I'm, um. Ready. To do that.

[ There. That feels better, right?

Right? ]

[necrolord]

[ When she finds him, he is in a chair beside the desk, bent over papers as he so often is. The man who became God who became a pretty ill-equipped father, all things considered, looks utterly caught off-guard: not by her presence at his door, but by the way she pushes her way in and stands there looking oddly bare and uncertain in the doorway. His black-hole eyes take in the hunch of her shoulders, the lines of taut muscle like she's ready for a fight.

He sets down his papers. Exhales a slow breath. ]

I realize I didn't start us off on the best foot. What with the missed birthdays and the... [ he makes a gesture, deeply abstract, like something popping. Something breaking. One little gesture for the shitshow of betrayal, for the ruins they started in.

An awkward silence hangs, after it. God stands into it— the creak of the chair across hardwood seems very loud— and he steps the few quiet paces across the study to her. For a moment there is nothing between them but a great tense silence, between his black eyes and her gold ones. He looks into hers as though searching for something in them, or as though he might memorize the color.

Then he reaches out to set a hand on her shoulder. ]

I'm not very good at this, [ says God, and gives her shoulder an awkward little squeeze. There is, for a moment, something earnest in his face: some clumsy pain, scrunching up the edges of his horrible eyes. ] I've said that bit already, I think. But we could learn it together, you and me.

[lipochrome]

[ Even this newfound loyalty doesn't keep Gideon from hating the way he says missed birthdays, all flip and easy, like that's what she'd ever be angry about. But, Gideon tells herself, there's no rule that you have to like your family. You just have to...not hate them, maybe.

Gideon does not break the silence. The room does not feel especially silent to her, what with the sound of blood rushing to her head, pounding between her ears. She's lived with Harrow long enough to know that this is what it feels like to be caught in a trap -- even if it's a trap she's walked right into, on purpose.

No. She can't go there. Not if this is going to work. It's not a trap, it's a test. When God sets His hand on her shoulder, Gideon does not flinch, nor does she buckle under the weight. She looks into his eyes, those fucked-up black holes, and she sees the earnestness, and she clings to it like a raft in the storm. He wants this. She wants this. She's making the right decision.

If her stomach feels weird instead of warm, it's only because they're both learning, right? ]

Yeah. Yeah, sure. [ a beat. a confession: ] It's new for me, too.

[ in the interest of learning, of trying: ] What are you, uh, working on?

FOR HARROW

[necrolord]

[ This has been a long time coming.

When Harrow arrives— she always comes when he summons her, always folds herself neatly into the chair across from his, always humors his tea tray and conciliatory glass of water— she may well realize that something is different, this time. God is in one of his melancholy moods, which are varied and almost universally horrible. This one is sweetly nostalgic, his gaze drifting to some great inward distance, contemplating something that never rises near enough to the surface to make out.

It's probably not reassuring when he diverts them from talk of necromancy, only a little ways into the visit, and begins with: ]

And how are things with the others?

AT BONE HOUSE

[peripheries]

[The house is quiet and he doesn't like it. The silence makes everything feel sterile, lifeless, like the SEELE facilities when everyone left. Or his solitary room at NERV. He could play the piano to feel the space but... he doesn't feel like it. He's got a bad case of "teenage ennui".

Also, he's hungry. Which is new. He often eats when others eat but he rarely feels hungry. But now, his stomach is twisting furiously in its demand for food. Perhaps something to do with a slight but noticeable gain in height and broadening of slim shoulders.

So now he sits backwards on a chair, staring down the rice cooker as if he could force it to cook faster by sheer will. Yes, all he's making is rice. He doesn't know how to do much else other than use vending machines.]

[necrolord]

[ It's funny, having the house quiet again. In recent years he's gotten used to the bustle of a flagship; in recent months he's been fond of the teenage chaos. God is very practiced at being alone, but that doesn't mean he prefers it. Also: even God Himself has to perform the tradition of pacing a kitchen aimlessly deciding what to make.

So here he is in the kitchen doorway, considering the moody slouch of teenager by the rice cooker. It's a start. ]

Glad to see you cooking. What's for dinner?

[peripheries]

Rice. I'm not... I don't know what else to make.

[Considering his normal lack of appetite, he usually lets Paul or Gideon choose and then helps out where he can. So, it's both a bit of "don't know what" and "don't know how". Rice is at least easily made in a machine.

...A really slow machine.]

Maybe with an egg on it.

[necrolord]

[ God nods somberly, as though he understands the emotional state of rice-maybe-with-an-egg-on-it down to his bones. ]

We could spice things up a bit, chop some mushrooms to go with. Make a real stir fry. There's got to be something in the fridge.

[ He breezes past Kaworu to their funny moonlight-and-Coldblood ice chest, drums his fingers on the door as he takes stock. ]

If the others are out at a fancy dinner, we should throw our own, eh?

[ It's a peace-talks-slash-attempted-deprogramming dinner, but there's no point sitting around bored while it goes on. ]