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Author Topic: The Search For Meaning [Solo, One-shot, TW]  (Read 322 times)

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Offline nephero

The Search For Meaning [Solo, One-shot, TW]
« on: February 06, 2018, 05:43:26 pm »
[flagged for some seriously fucked up family dynamics, verbal and emotional abuse, past and present.]

   Ren didn’t like being cold. But some things just sank right into your bones no matter how much you tried to stop them. The cold seeped, the ice lingered, pressing into every joint and every nerve ending until it was hard to move at all.

   Ren didn’t like being cold, but the numbness in his hands made it so he couldn’t be anything but. He had given Chu succinct answers from where he sat, presently alone at the curry house just a few blocks from his most recent hotel. That was one thing he was learning to appreciate about this particular city; Yvrie had plenty of curry houses, and plenty of them started “mild” off burning hot.

   Which he was thankful for. The spice-induced heat helped to bring a little bit of feeling back into the rest of him, something that he’d been losing at a steady yet alarming pace for the past several weeks. This past 24 hour cycle, however, had resulted in a sharp drop, and now he could barely manage to get his fingers to lift his spoon without rubbing his hands vigorously first.

   It was… damning. But what was there to be done about it? What could there be done about it? Ren knew he needed to simply sit back and accept this was just how it would be, and yet…

   And yet, here he was. In Yvrie, sitting on the heated patio under the glow of vibrant lamplights, waiting. Waiting for the only person he could think to talk to. Waiting for the only person he wished he’d never have to talk to again.

   It didn’t take long for him to show up. Ren wasn’t sure what exactly that level of punctuality meant; it could have meant anything, or nothing at all. After all, his birthgiver never seemed to give much rhyme or reason to why anything was done, just that, somehow, in some way, it was always because Ren had supremely fucked up.

   Well, Reitrael Dei wasn’t wrong. Not today, anyway. Ren sat up a little straighter in his seat, before remembering he didn’t give a shit what his birthgiver thought of his posture, and went right back to putting considerable effort into his next spoonful of chicken curry. After all, why sit through a lecture hungry?

   “I see the years haven’t improved your manners,” Reitrael stated, matter of factly and with the kind of long-suffering sigh that leaked into every word without any additional breath. It was an art form unto itself; a shitty one, in a shitty gallery, full of shitty people and probably made of literal shit. Ren swallowed it regardless and gestured at the seat opposite him, which his birthgiver was already in the middle of taking.

   “Hello, bibi. I’m glad you could make it.”

   Reitrael hummed, a short, soft sound as he looked around at everything but Ren, raising one tanned hand to summon a nearby waiter.

   “The yellow curry, chicken, extra hot, and skip the vegetables.” He said, again with that same kind of sighing word structure that had Ren involuntarily gritting his teeth. Which, of course, Reitrael automatically noticed and waved a hand at him admonishingly. “Don’t do that, Erenys, you’ll spend the next decade at the orthodontist. Oh, and a bottle of wine. I don’t know, white and sweet? What do you think, Erenys?”

   “I think it’s three in the afternoon.”

   “Don’t try to be cute, it’s just embarrassing. I read the news, you know, I know you and your coworkers don’t care about what time it is.” The waiter, the poor bastard, looked incredibly uncomfortable, and for a moment Ren was forced to take pity and give her a quick nod of agreement.

   “White and sweet, then.” He said, and she took off almost immediately. Which was a shame, because that meant the only person left for Ren to put his focus on was, of course, Reitrael himself. Which was more than a little hard to swallow.

   It wasn’t as if Reitrael wasn’t pleasant to look at— quite the opposite. The elf was tall, angular, regal in stature and carriage and seemingly made of sunlight and spun gold. To any random passersby, he was beautiful. To Ren, who knew far better, Reitrael was— at best— a reminder of just who Ren could have been. In another time, another place, another reality, Ren could have been looking across the table at another version of himself. His height, the freckles that were hidden so thoroughly against equally dark skin— all of it had pointed to what could have been. House Phaeton, if things hadn’t gone as they had.

   Which was why Ren had invited his birthgiver to an early dinner-late lunch in the first place. Because things had gone as they had. Reitrael had chosen, for one reason or another, to make Ren. In whatever way anyone chooses to make a child, but most importantly, had chosen to do so without his Resonance.

   Ren paused in his train of thought to consider the elf he’d never met. Not really, of course. He was sure there had been a fleeting moment, infant to adult, where his birthgiver’s Resonance had looked down upon him, bundle of dark hair and blue eyes that he was, and had realized Ren had not been his. Had it been obvious before that? Or had it been a complete surprise? How had he felt? All questions Ren had never asked, nor would he ever get the chance to do so. The Resonance had died, one way or the other, before Ren had any kind of mental capacity for recognizing he had disappeared forever. Reitrael certainly never spoke of him beyond any passing remark, and there had been no photos left behind. Like he’d been forgotten entirely, and knowing his birthgiver, Ren wasn’t sure that wasn’t the usual case.

   “So. This is rather far north for you to travel. Did you think to alleviate some kind of guilty conscience during a work trip?” Reitrael asked, not bothering to soften the bluntness of his words. Which was fine. Ren was too used to that to really feel the bludgeoning anymore.

   “That kind of requires having a guilty conscience,” Ren replied, just as carelessly. For a moment Reitrael’s golden eyes narrowed, and for a moment Ren felt a bitter sense of glee in knowing he’d been the one to cause it. But he couldn’t let his birthgiver know that, and so instead focused on taking another bite of curry, patting at his mouth with a napkin to catch any excess sauce. “No, I was— am on vacation. And had a few questions that I really could not for the life of me find anyone better qualified to answer than you.”

   “Oh?” Reitrael said, falling for a moment into the trap of assumed flattery. He’d always had a bit of an ego (more than a bit), and Ren had learned very quickly when he was younger to use that to his advantage as much as possible. Or, in this case, use it to stick the knife in as deep as possible. Just on principle.

   “Mm. Seeing as you’re the only person I know who came out of fucking your Resonance over looking healthier than ever. I had some questions about that.”

   Reitrael’s eyes narrowed again, dark lashes framing the golden yellow of his irises until all that was left was a pair of bright slits. It was remarkable how someone who was made of such a warm color could look like they’d been birthed from an iceblock. But, Ren supposed, he had to learn to hate the color yellow from somewhere. Still, the momentary power shift didn’t last, and Reitrael sat back in his chair with an utterly knowing smile.

   “What did you want to know?”

   Ren had been expecting him to make a biting remark. Had been expecting a backhanded insult or some other manner of verbal trap. It was utterly unlike Reitrael to be so direct, and for a moment Ren didn’t know where to go from here. He’d been expecting to jump through hoops, and yet here he was, already at the finish line.

   Which, of course, was probably exactly how Reitrael had wanted it. The absolute bastard.

   Ren caught himself before he could start grinding his teeth again, and carried on like nothing had happened at all. It was the only winning move he’d ever had, even if “winning” was a generous sentiment.

   “I suppose… I suppose why you did it. You had your Resonance, why would you cheat on him?”

   “And what difference does that make? Having my Resonance as I did?”

   “All the difference? He was your soulmate.”

   “Soulmate. Look at you, using human words like they mean anything.”

   “They do mean something.”

   “No, they don’t. Nor do our words, for that matter.”

   “Follow-up question, are you just a complete psychopath or is that just for my benefit?”

   “Would you like me to say yes, I’m only ever mean to you, specifically?”

   “No, I want to know what you were even trying to accomplish!”

   “I wasn’t trying to accomplish anything. Certainly not you. Or were you hoping I’d somehow ascribe meaning to your existence after all these years?”

   “I think after a lifetime of being your son, I already know that’s a moot point.”

   “Well,” Reitrael sighed again, sitting back in his chair just as his food arrived, one eyebrow arched delicately and with zero regard for the servers standing right there, “you are the one who seems interested in moot points this evening. So instead of beating around the bush and wasting everyone’s time more than you already have, no, I never actually intended to have you.”

   “Again, an answer to a question I never asked,” Ren growled, letting his agitation bubble to the surface despite himself.

   “Don’t make a scene, Erenys, it’s uncultured.” Reitrael said over a sip of freshly poured wine, waving away the servers who had already begun their hasty retreat once more.

   “Says the man who basically spat in the one thing our culture holds sacred. So, what, your soulmate didn’t mean anything but arbitrary social actions do?”

   “We all ascribe our own meaning. Stop trying to get me to create it for you.”

   “I don’t give a shit about some kind of existential answer to myself!”

   “Then why would you ask about how I could possibly have made you?” Reitrael said, already losing his patience in the kind of way that had him scooping up his food somehow at Ren. He’d always been good at that: doing the most mundane things in your direction. However, something made Reitrael pause just as he was about to take a bite. He looked at Ren, and then slowly put his spoon back down. “…You’ve found yours.”

   It wasn’t a question. Even Reitrael’s questions were rarely questions. And somehow, even at nearly three hundred years old, they always took Ren by surprise.

   “That’s a wild assumption to be making.”

   “And that’s a terrible lie. What, after all this time you haven’t learned even how to do that? You’ve certainly tried enough.”

   “Seriously?”

   “Oh, please, like that time you smoked my cigarettes and tried to pretend you’d just put out a candle. Or, even better, when you used your great-grand-bibi’s prized china to feed the local stray cats. Not like those were irreplaceable or anything, but no, really, they just got paw prints on them all on their own.”

   “Exactly what is the expiration date on my childhood transgressions? I’d like to set aside a time in the future to celebrate never having to hear about that again.”

   “Well, either get better at lying, or stop lying. So, who is it? That commander of yours? Oh, but that’s assuming something prestigious, isn’t it.” Reitrael shot Ren a lifeless smile, and Ren shot one right back at him in kind.

   “Who it is doesn’t matter.” Ren said, matter of factly, wanting nothing more than to leave this entire guessing game behind. But then, that meant he had to finally get to the point, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for that, either. He took a breath, let it out, and took a quick gulp of his own glass of wine to brace himself. “It doesn’t matter at all. It’s not going to happen.”

   Reitrael’s eyes narrowed again for a moment, and something in his expression shifted. He didn’t say a word, which was telling all on its own. Ren decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and carried on, brushing his previous statement under the rug like it’d been nothing more than dust.

   “Listen. I just wanted to know why you’d choose this. So I can make sense of it.”

   “You’re assuming there’s something to make sense of.”

   “Bibi, please. Please. For once in your life, I am begging you, be a fucking parent and help me.”

   Their dinners had no doubt gone long cold, and the wine had long since grown warm. But it didn’t matter. Ren felt none of it; not the way the wine tasted or how it shot straight into his veins, not the warmth of the patio or the strength of the lights. He didn’t feel the table beneath his elbows, and every movement reminded him of just how little his fingers wanted to cooperate with him.

   “I’m being serious, Erenys.” Reitrael said, almost gently. The juxtaposition was enough to get Ren to look up with a snap, staring at his birthgiver for a long, silent moment. Reitrael sighed, and this time the tiredness there seemed genuine. Sincere, in a way Ren had been so sure the older elf was utterly incapable of. “There’s nothing to make sense of. What I did to my Resonance was pointless. What I did with your father was pointless. Keeping you, raising you, all of that was pointless. Because in the end, this is what’s become of it.”

   The Phaeton elf sighed, set his spoon down, rubbed at his face and peered over his clasped hands at his son, eyes flicking minutely as if Reitrael was trying to sit and memorize Ren’s face. Which, for all Ren knew, he was. It was… something. Because in the end all any of them had was their memories. Reitrael hadn’t kept anything to remember his Resonance by, but here he was, sitting with Ren and looking for all intents and purposes like he was trying to make sure he’d remember Ren.

   It was the closest thing Ren had ever felt to fondness. And for a moment his heart clenched, and for a moment Ren wanted to succumb to the wild, impulsive urge to burst into tears and clutch onto his birthgiver like a child. But, like always, Ren swallowed the feeling down, and took a deep breath.

   “I know I’m doomed,” Ren said after a moment, “I mean. I’m pretty sure I always knew it’d be like this. Even before I knew who it was.”

   “You are the psychic.”

   “I’m not that kind of psychic.”

   “No, I know. But maybe that’s kinder. If there is such thing as kindness in this universe of ours.” Reitrael said. “You’re Erenys Dei, my one and only. There was never going to be any fixing that.”

   “…No, I guess not.”

   They sat in silence for a long moment, but for once, it wasn’t the kind of cold, biting silence that Ren had come to expect. There was none of the scrabbling for some kind of clue as to what the “right” thing to say or do was. Because there was none— not in the way that as a young child Ren had tried to navigate, when his birthgiver would make sure there was never a “right” way he could have acted. This time, it was because there was simply nothing left to do but… be. The pair of them, sat at a table in a curry restaurant, and knowing full well there was simply nothing that could ever save them.

   “Finish your dinner,” Reitrael said after a moment, already picking up his own spoon again, “it’s getting cold and you’re too skinny as it is.”

   “Yeah. Okay.”

 

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