deercountry | 08 . family drama

Entry tags:

08 . family drama

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.

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[ 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?

Edited 2022-07-05 23:06 (UTC)

[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.

[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.

[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.]

[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.

[ 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. ]

Edited 2022-04-25 20:00 (UTC)

[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?

[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.

Edited 2022-04-27 00:12 (UTC)

[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?

[Paul watches solemnity beyond Oscar's apparent years fall across him. He understands better now than he did on the beach, or even on the couch, where it comes from. The words that the no-longer anonymous stranger cast before him like dark pearls are heavy on his mind.

Paul believes Oscar understands loss the way that birds understand the wind, and he wonders, for an absurdity of a moment, how Oscar might react if Paul told him that the black eyed man he's so afraid of understands it too. That they've both told Paul the same thing about it, in almost the same words.

Never, Oscar says, and Paul believes him. He doesn't need every gory detail spread out before him like augury.]

No. It doesn't. [He runs his fingernail along the stem of the herb in his palm.] I've always hated losing anything. Even small things. It's not one of my better qualities.

[He allows time for that to settle. He doesn't look around him for the fern, which has long since stopped being exactly the point of all of this, if it ever was, but he thinks about it.]

You're afraid he'll take things from you. [A soft note of sympathy, an undertone of understanding.] What happened didn't help.

...It's not that at all.

[Oscar said simply, as if he were explaining a plot point in a book rather than an example of his own personal torment. The words didn't convey much and, knowing this, he called back to their conversation on the post that encouraged anonymous gossip which had exploded beyond measure. He had divulged a great number of personal details on that post-- a fact which he regretted, but couldn't take back. Instead, trailing his fingers along the fuzzy stem of his tomato plants, he elaborated.]

His eyes look like the woman who tortured me.

[He let the words hang there. Although he said it in the same plain tones as earlier, Oscar understood that it was a heavy bomb to just drop out of nowhere. Stories of shared loss would have no impact on his own problems, because there were no excuses.

It was loss which had pushed Salem over the edge into madness. Loss which propelled her to defy the gods repeatedly until they cursed her to be undying and fueled the flames that drove her to destroy humanity.

As much as he wanted to explain, he instead just shook his head.]

It was almost a year and a half ago by this point. It's been just about a year since she took my leg. But, I guess injuries like that keep hurting after it's over.

[A shrug. He still carried the scar on his chest from his encounter with her. His leg was still missing; Ruby's eye, lost due to hallucinations related to that woman, was still a robotic facsimile based on Atlesian tech.

It was a hurt that wouldn't heal the normal way.]

I told you. I panicked. I was just trying to get information, to make sure you were safe.

[...with that, he finally looked up and met Paul's gaze.]

But. You're well aware of the danger. You're too smart not to be.

[ 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?

[ 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. ]

[Thoughts of reiterating what he meant, trying to explain himself better, fall aside as Oscar continues speaking in his soft, matter-of-fact tone. Paul is silently attentive, his eyes fixed to Oscar's face as if held there by magnetic force. When he speaks of being tortured, losing his leg, Paul winces faintly, troubled by guilt he doesn't know how to name.

He knows about holding things at a distance. The necessity of doing so, if a person wants to survive. If some things are allowed to sink their teeth into a soul, they'll never let it go, or so Paul has every reason to believe. The past is a poison to sip lightly, lest it overtake you.

He understands. After all - there's a reason he said things and not people.]

...I wasn't able to sleep through the night for months, after I came here. [Now he looks away, fixates on the tiny bud of a still-closed flower.] I don't understand exactly what you went through, but I understand...scars.

[It's not a well-kept secret. It's also nothing so terrible to be ashamed of. Admitting to it still feels like a vulnerability, but he's beginning to learn that's what people need, in moments like these. Show me your throat, I show you mine.]

All power is dangerous. Where I come from, that's something you know, or you don't survive long enough to know anything else. [He lets out a soft, controlled breath.] I know not everywhere is like that. I should have thought about it. I overlooked it, and you paid the price. So maybe you were right about me the first time. I wasn't smart enough to see that danger, was I?

[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.]

You made that plain enough when you jumped in to defend him from an anonymous ghost.

[The sass turned back on with a raised brow. Power was a concept he understood in his bones, but was still learning about on a conscious level. In many ways, it was like having the keys to an endless library with contents that were unknown beyond mere surface level understanding. As much as he railed against exploring that library, the shadows within it had already taken a hold in his soul.

Such effects couldn't be swept aside. He was changed no matter what he wished.

No matter what, he was always paying for the mistakes of another.]

It's okay. This isn't the first time I've done something I knew could be dangerous without telling anyone first. Those times ended up... pretty bad, but it worked out.

[Even if he knew he was giving Jaune heart attacks with every time he decided to go walk about without warning.]

...I'm not used to having the time to plan things out. Power is dangerous, but so is not acting when you see an opening. Where I'm from, a moment's decision can make the difference between life or death no matter how much power or experience you have.

Huntsmen and Huntresses don't have long careers. And, I don't think my predecessors did either after they were chosen by their fate.

[ Gideon grimly nods in agreement, relieved to not feel like an outsider for the first time all night. Family dinner is not a phrase she's confident she could even string together, and the concept itself makes Gideon feel...weird. She's not sure what else to call it. Empty, maybe? Or missing something. ]

Yeah. I can see why.

[ That last bit makes Gideon's eyebrows raise. ]

You don't? Then why are you here? [ Not said in the way that implies Gideon doesn't want Faith to be here -- she's glad she is. More like: why put yourself through this if you don't have to? ]

Well, for the month I do. They were worried about it being just as bad as the Octobers of the dream, and I didn't want to put my roommate in danger so I figured this place could use the extra fighters if it really was as bad.

[Faith would have been fine. Faith would have thrived in an apocalypse, she's the one that monsters have nightmares about, she's the biggest monster on the block. But obviously... Tara wouldn't. So they're here. At Willow's house.]

I'm friends with Ruby, Ange and Willow, but not... y'know. Inner circle or anything. Ozpin and I don't really get along. [Something something chased him out of his house with a crossbow and then hunted him halfway across Trench.]

[Paul watches the wall of wryness come back up, a distance unusual in someone Oscar's age (but what does that matter, with someone like him?), with a bitter twist of salt at the back of his own mouth. They're perhaps a meter apart in space, but worlds apart in context.

It's a wall he's tried and failed to scale before. He half-closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath, fixes the faces of the people he came here for in his mind.]

I don't blame you for acting on the knowledge you had at the time, according to your understanding of things. You saw an opportunity, and you acted. I've done the same.

[He has to work from base principles. He has to try to persuade Oscar to see his perspective, even if he doesn't understand it. They may never achieve a joint context, but perhaps they can still achieve communication.]

You assume he's the one I'm defending. He doesn't need me to defend him, and he didn't ask me to.

In your world, when people transgress against someone powerful, who is it that ends up harmed? [He tilts his head back, looking up at the filtered light through the greenhouse roof.] It's not the king who suffers most in a war, is it? Unless your universe is much more enlightened than mine is, I doubt it.

I don't want anyone to suffer through that. Not you, not the people who live in this house, and not the people who live in mine. Whatever you think of my methods, I want you to understand my motives.

...Everyone gets hurt, Paul.

[The words were spoken with a seriousness of understanding. Although Oscar didn't have it in his memories yet, he knew that his struggles back on Remnant end up resulting in the floating city of Atlas falling despite all of their best efforts. Safety wasn't guaranteed for the people they helped escape, because no one knew what was waiting for them in the desert city of Vacuo that they had convinced a veritable demigod to help them construct a portal to. With certain death on one side of the spatially folded passage and a desolate wasteland potentially filled with monsters on the other, Oscar couldn't imagine the sheer levels of terror everyone must have felt.]

And, even if you don't wish it, there's often suffering anyway. Putting yourself forward to take the fall doesn't spare others-- it sets them up for a different kind of pain if you don't succeed.

[Says the kid who ran off in the midst of an explosive firefight to try to talk the General down from enacting full scale Martial Law.]

I hate to say it, but it's a gamble. I knew the odds of success with anything were slim if my hunch was right, but that was why I went to get information first instead of just... approaching.

...It sounds like our motives are similar. But, Paul. What are you planning?

[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.]

[Oscar's question is answered first by Paul putting his hand over his eyes, his head tipping even farther back, his throat bare and exposed as if he's in perfect safety here. He drags it down his face with a hollow laugh, a dry hah more exhale than amusement.]

You sound like - [he meets Oscar's eyes, his mouth twisted in a slight smile] - like someone I used to know. He'd agree with you, which is another way of saying you're right, and I should know better.

[It's possible Gurney might not appreciate being compared to a teenage boy with a tender greenhouse - but Paul thinks he wouldn't mind it. He might even have found it funny, in his sharply wry way.]

What am I planning. [He pauses, a drawn out span.] To get the fern back, if you'll give it to me. To make as much of a peace between your house and mine as I can, for whatever that's worth to anyone else. Isn't that enough? Can't it be?

[There's too much of the plaintive in his voice, an unseemly desperate thread. Isn't it enough? Can't it be? He asks himself that every day that he strives to be the kind of person who might answer yes.

(Of course it's not. He knows that. But what else can he do?)]

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08 . family drama

THE DINNER

THE SLEEPOVER

FOR GIDEON

FOR HARROW

greenhouse interlude | oscar pine

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Dinner Time

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gideon nav | ota

during the dinner

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During the dinner.

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AT BONE HOUSE

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