weathering_it | Family Makes the Ride Worthwhile

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Family Makes the Ride Worthwhile

Certain things have changed on Naugus’ grounds since the last time Viatorus paid the Ixis a visit. A few structures have been built in the chao garden to give them refuge from the cold during the winter, wooden lean-tos and tiny mock homes complete with mini doors and chao-height windows with tiny shutters to close them. The largest body of water has been made safer with a low bridge to cross it. And now that spring is arriving and the ground is warming slightly it seems that a few furrows of ground have been prepared for later planting. In fact, all around the castle the ground has been disturbed or cordoned off with low fences to mark future sites of gardens to be.

And of course the greatest change of all must be the dozen Overlanders taking up residence on the grounds. Each of them is busy, not paying mind to the time or to the inevitability of guests arriving but working on their future gardens or mending clothes or ensuring the stability of the chao homes. Each of them is dressed in plain beiges, browns, and reds, and they all look like they’ve stepped directly out of the 1930s with their suspenders and cabbie hats, though their overly-thick gloves and heavy boots should be familiar to Isidor as Azerothian vogue. Evidently they live inside the tower, as no human structures have been built for them to stay, though they have added a few comforts for themselves. The most obvious is a massive, U-shaped outdoor benched table designed to comfortably sit the entire family and potential friends. And right now, that table has been set for a meal.

It seems all the dishes and utensils are made of the green crystals Naugus is known to conjure, which makes the whole affair of eating at an oversized park bench uncharacteristically classy. No food is set out yet, but someone is already sitting at the table. Someone perhaps not quite human. She can’t be more than three feet tall, though her seat on the bench has been specially designed to rise her up to a comfortable level. Her arms are long, her legs short, and her head, with its pixie cut, naturally pink hair, is disproportionally large compared to her body. Frankly, she’s got the proportions of a human baby with the face of a woman in her thirties. Isidor might recognize her as a gnome, and like any good gnome she’s busying herself with a stack of schematics and calculations spread across her plate (and the neighboring ones as well.) Now and then she looks up from her writing to check the path to the tower in hopes of catching sight of the promised guests.

When she finally sees them she hurries to weigh her papers down with her plate. She leaves the bench in a hurry and scuttles over to them before they get too far onto the property. Rather than extend a hand for a shake or even bother to greet them she puts one hand on her hip and holds the other palm up to stop them.

“Before you two sit down, listen: Harrowheart isn’t going to be here. He stopped by earlier to say they’re extending his shift in Acherus, so he’s out there…” she waves her hand and flippantly guesses, “Eating souls? I thought it was only right to tell you before they noticed you, in the event you wanted to leave. Which I hope you don’t, if I might be so bold? Some of them really want to meet you. Especially Odilia, and I hate disappointing her.”

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It's difficult for Viatorus not to become entranced by the other's description. Listening to Matt talk about it is like rediscovering magic all over again. The joy of it is worth being patient for. Tamminy's question is one that gets him to hesitate, and his eyes slide to Isidor who seems to sense that this is her cue.

She doesn't immediately look up from her dinner as she begins to answer. "We're not in complete seclusion. We are just more discerning than most about who we interact with. Viatorus still helps non-mages from time to time, for example." She takes a small bite of her dinner, chews, swallows, and then turns to Tamminy properly. "And we can't choose to be mages in the same way you can't choose to be a gnome. There is no purpose to it. It is what we are, it's as simple as that. Pursuing magic builds our magical society, and expands our ability to help future mages and non-mages alike, but it isn't a choice. You are or you are not."

Viatorus waits a beat to make sure Isidor's speech is over before he turns to Matt again. "And we don't have paladins on my world. We have divine magic, but no paladins."

Isidor's explanation strikes a chord with Tamminy that's lost on the humans. She frames her face with her palms and grins at what she hears. "You're mages from birth! Genetically? Oh, my! That's incredibly interesting! My ex-wife was a professor of biology and her closest colleague was obsessed with discovering the potential genetic links that connect some people to the ley lines more strongly than others. Oh, if he could have been here he would have been pestering you two for a blood sample." She shrugs one shoulder and chuckles, shakes her head and gets back to the meal. She, at least, seems to have no interest in drawing any precious Durant blood. One hopes...

Meanwhile Matt smiles at Viatorus, interested in that little tidbit of information he's given. "They're new for us, too. We didn't have paladins on Azeroth until the Second War, which was right around when I was born. That's when the Silver Hand was first founded."

Lawrence, his mouth half-full of food, comments, "To fight the orcs and kill their death knights, right?"

Well, that quiets Matt right up. He looks down at his food immediately and resumes eating in total silence, blushing with embarrassment at his brother's blunt commentary.

Lawrence, however, continues speaking as casually as can be. He points his fork at Viatorus and says, "Harrowheart says you're a dream mage." Tamminy opens her mouth, and though Lawrence can't see her he must have expected it, because he raises his voice as he continues, "DOCTOR PHOTOVOLT SAYS dreams are just thoughts you have when you're asleep."

"They aaaare!" she strains. "Trust me, I know neurology! You can see neurons firing in sleep the same way they do during thought in wakefulness!"

"Oh?~" Lawrence asks, leaning back, locking eyes with Tamminy. "I can see it? 'Cause I've never seen it, Tamminy. Can you show me right now?"

Tamminy clenches her fists. "Lawrence! I'd need a magnetic resonance machine for that! You know I don't have one!"

Lawrence raises his eyebrows and tips his head. "So I can't see them, which means you're proofless. Annnnd since I'm a stupid human peasant who thinks everything is maaaagiiiic... I'm gonna trust the wizard on this one." He looks to The Wizard then and holds his robot hand palm-up as he waits for answers. "Is a dream just a thought you have when you're asleep, or what?"

Tamminy grits her teeth and watches Viatorus in desperation. You're killing her! You're all absolutely killing her.

"I'm not sure he would have been so excited about the paperwork involved with that request," Isidor quips lightly. She smiles, but she's only partly joking. Durant blood is more precious than diamonds, or ancient scrolls.

Viatorus blushes slightly on Matt's behalf, and nearly goes cross eyed watching the fork being pointed at him. Beside him Isidor tenses, but Lawrence is more interested in concocting an argument than starting a physical fight. As much as she wants to help him out of the spotlight, she can't see a graceful way to do it, so she watches the three of them while Viatorus squirms under their gazes.

"Yes, and no," he says eventually. "I've seen scans of dreamers before, and I know what the brain looks like when it's dreaming. It is a series of thoughts, b-b-but it's also much more than that. People are much more than that. The body, mind, soul, and will... They're all interconnected. While we're asleep they're the most connected, because the subconscious mind is free of the conscious one. In dreams we are our honest selves, our True Selves, in a sense. With all of us, neurons and will together."

Listening to all of this thoughtful talk brings a pleased little giggle from Mrs. Weatherhill, who may or may not follow but is certainly charmed to hear all of it. Tamminy nods thoughtfully and a smile grows on her face as she listens to his perspective. It's an interesting one, and one which she's ready to accept – especially given the fact that it supports her own understanding, at least in part.

"So, if I'm following..." Lawrence says, then clears his throat. "Tamminy's part right... Which also means she's part wrong... That's really all I could have hoped for."

He goes back to eating and Tamminy massages her scalp. She should have known that stupid reply was coming. As a consolation Anna reaches past Isidor and pats V's shoulder gingerly. "I thought it was a very good description. Thank you, Viatorus."

That little pause gives Lawrence enough time to concoct an unsavory thought. He grins, hurries to swallow his food, and blurts out, "When Harrowheart used to write us he told us all about his dreams."

Odilia lowers her brow thoughtfully as she recalls his letters. She begins to shake her head but before she says anything Anna challenges him, "No he didn't? I remember he... Said that when you're in Outland you can hear the sound space makes? And that it's hard to get to sleep?"

Lawrence, on the verge of laughing, presses the issue. "No, yeah, he definitely told us all about his dreams... His dream to fuck a goat!"

While Mrs. Weatherhill's eyes go wide and fixate on her food Mr. Weatherhill barks, "Lawrence!" Lawrence only laughs, and both Robin and Michael join him. Jacob whispers something in his daughter's ear, but she's as unfazed by the language as her father's excuses.

Anna leans forward to get a look at Lawrence and scolds, "Are you talking about Farina? Don't talk about Farina like that!" She puts her hands flat on the table and assures Viatorus and Isidor, "He never made love to a goat, I swear."

A few seconds of silence pass before Tamminy leans back and whispers behind the Durants' backs to Lawrence, "I knew his game was bad, but he couldn't even score with a goat?..." Lawrence wheeze-laughs and leans over for a low five, which Doctor Photovolt is more than happy to supply. Hardtman looks on in grave disappointment but says no more.

The compliment from Anna and the general agreement from some of the others encourages Viatorus more than Lawrence's twist. While he doesn't approve of using the topic of dreams to hurt someone, it does make a change from the subject being mocked altogether. Besides which, the mention of Harrowheart's dreams catches both of the Durants' attention again. Isidor chokes on her drink when Lawrence delivers his punchline, and Viatorus goes stock still and tomato red.

Isidor is still struggling to breathe, but needs to get out a, "What?" before her mind runs away with the mental image Lawrence has so happily supplied.

"Don't worry, it's cute, I promise," Robin assures with a knowing smile. "You see, when Peter left Westfall he wrote to us all the time about all the strange things he saw on the way to the Dark Portal and past it, into Outland. Back then I thought it was so wild, leaving home and going straight to another world." She chuckles and shrugs one shoulder. "Now that I'm living it I realize life is pretty much always business as usual all the time, no matter what. ...Except in those rare moments where you're running for your life."

She waves away that brief aside and continues telling the story. "Anyway. When he got to Outland he met the people who lived there, right? Folks who called themselves Draenei, which he told us meant 'exiles.' They'd spent thousands of years battling the Burning Legion, and by the time the Alliance got to Outland there were hardly any of them left."

Matt leans forward and quietly, politely interrupts to add his own details. "There used to be more of them until the orcs killed them. Peter told us that when you step through the Dark Portal you walk down a thousand-stair flight of steps, and when your feet finally hit the ground it crunches under your boots, because it's all just... bones. There's a road that stretches through the desert for miles and it's all made up of the skeletons of Draenei sacrificed by the warlock Gul'Dan to power the Dark Portal."

Robin continues, "The orcs call it the 'Path of Glory.' Isn't that grotesque?" Estella next to her shakes her head. "Barbaric. Evil," she mutters. Robin nods, then continues with her story. "Anyway, when he finally met living Draenei and stayed in their village with the rest of his unit he realized right away that he loved everything about them. Their language, their culture, their technology. They didn't have much left after it all, but he said what they did have was more advanced than anything he'd ever seen. They had all sorts of futuristic inventions powered by magical crystals. In the swamps of Zangarmarsh they built cities inside of the mushrooms that grow up as tall as the Stormwind Cathedral. They even had space ships once! That's how they traveled the stars fighting the Legion."

Lawrence clears his throat and sets his hands on the table. "You're missing the point," he says gruffly. "You're telling all these pointless story details. The point is that they look like goats."

Anna reaches across and cuffs him on the back of the head, but he doesn't retaliate. He said what he wanted to say and no punishment can erase the facts.

"They don't look like goats," Anna explains delicately. "They just... Have goat legs. And horns on their heads. And tails. But not goat tails? He said they look like lizard tails, sort of? And their skin is smooth, like a human's, but they're sky blue or pitch black or perfectly white. Their eyes glow white because they're all full of the Light. And he said all the women were gorgeous, just like magical people from another world are supposed to be. And there was this one that he met, a woman named Farina – who sounded very nice and shouldn't be called a goat!" Lawrence gets a side-eye here.

"Peter and his unit stayed in Farina's village for a year to help the Alliance gain ground in Outland. They became really close. He wrote to us all the time to tell us about life there in the village with the Draenei and Farina. We learned everything about her." She laughs as some of the others at the table nod their heads almost mockingly. Evidently they heard a lot about this woman.

"I sort of wish we could have met her," Heather admits, which gets more genuine nods. "She loved plants and taught my brother all sorts of strange things you can do to make them grow differently. They used to go animal-watching in the forests, which he said he liked because it was nothing but quietness. If it weren't that they were on a different world I'd have thought it would get boring after a while, all the stuff she liked, but he never made it sound that way. I could tell he was happy there. Really at peace. Even though we weren't there with him, it felt like we knew him more through that year of letters than we ever did growing up with him."

Matt and Michael most of all seem to agree with that sentiment, but every adult at the table nods quietly along with them.

Edited 2017-04-11 15:47 (UTC)

As if sensing a long and fantastical story is about to commence, Viatorus settles himself in for the tale about to unfold. He's more than thankful for the chance to control his own dinner portions as now he can appear to have all but finished his small dinner and focus on the important part of the meal. Isidor is a little more balanced in splitting her attention between food and friends, but it's hard for her not to get distracted by the discussion as it unfolds.

"Draenei," she repeats. "Harrow- Peter pointed them out to me before…" She spies her brother giving her a tight lipped look. "What?"

"You need to learn to draw," he says quietly.

"Oh you'll see them too, don't worry," she replies dismissively and turns back to the conversation. It's not long before she wishes she hadn't. She wishes they were talking about anything other than this. Where her brother beams and listens, entranced, she strains to smile and not look rude in continuing to eat. Here and now of all places and times she wanted to be controlled and calm. Instead she finds herself wrestling quietly with emotions she wishes could at least understand. Viatorus glances to her every so often, but she thinks she's hiding it well enough.

"It sounds magical," Viatorus breathes. "And she sounds wonderful. I wish I could have met her too, and seen a village of Draenei."

"Lawrence is right," Isidor says quietly. "They do look a bit like goats. Tall, blue goats. Or blue satyrs with glowing eyes."

Not sure what to make of this, Viatorus turns to the Weatherhills. "Have you met any Draenei?"

Everyone looks to each other as if to pool their collective memories. Have they ever seen a Draenei? Eventually they're all shaking their heads

"Draenei don't have business in Westfall, really," Mrs. Weatherhill says. "The Alliance sent a night elf druid to help our lands during a few hard seasons, but he's the only non-human we've ever seen."

Tamminy 'hmmmm!'s thoughtfully, grinning as she does. Mrs. Weatherhill playfully swats the air in her direction. "You know you're part of the family, Tammy! You're an honorary human as far as we're concerned."

Tamminy laughs and sits straight with her chest proudly puffed. "A high honor, certainly." Whether she believes that or not she's at least willing to play along.

Mrs. Weatherhill smiles sweetly before she turns back to the Durants and says, "Don't Tell Peter, but as much as I wanted to meet Farina I have to admit... I'm relieved we never did. I'm not sure I'm ready for any of my children to be in an... Interracial relationship." She has the sense to be a little bit embarrassed of her opinion, though apparently not embarrassed enough to have not said it in the first place.

Robin rolls her eyes and whispers something to Estella, who laughs under her breath and whispers back. Anna and Matt look uncomfortable at their mother being openly racist at the table. Mr. Weatherhill, though, is dead quiet as he watches Lawrence pull a strange sort of face, a twist of his lips that's barely keeping him from laughing. And Tamminy is wrestling the exact same expression. Mrs. Weatherhill, some people must find you very funny!

Lawrence soon composes himself enough to speak without smiling. In fact, he's got something rather serious to say. "Harrowheart," and he pauses pointedly there, "Told me he was interested in someone again. He wouldn't tell me who, but he did describe them. Said they were... Beautiful and cute at the same time. Powerful with magic. That they had lovely, dark hair, and gorgeous eyes, and a wonderful smile, and every time he sees them it makes him smile too." He rolls his eyes and they settle on Viatorus, whom he affixes with a long stare. Eventually he clears the air saying, "Stupid romantic stuff." And news which everyone seems to take in stride. Nothing out of the ordinary, really.

"But," he says, and once more pauses. "They're a breather." And that raises some eyebrows. All around the table faces contort in thought, each mind working out how they feel about this. Nobody is immediately offended, and certainly not disgusted, but some find it easier to handle than others. Anna especially seems unsure of this news and looks to Lawrence to tell them more. He, of course, has to bask in the momentary power and attention before he spills any more details.

"We talked about it, and he's not sure what to do going forward. Because now he's the Farina in the situation." Whatever that means everyone at the table seems to get it. The realization dawns on them and they begin to nod in somber understanding.

"I'm sure if you'd met her you would have changed your mind," Viatorus offers, hopeful for Mrs. Weatherhill's liberal side. After all, how prejudiced had he been when he first saw Harrowheart's terrifying figure? "I think it's different when you meet someone."

Isidor smiles gently at her brother's optimism, but it's short lived when Lawrence speaks up again. She purposefully breathes slow and calm, still as she watches everyone, including her own brother become thoughtful. The Dreamwalker wonders silently why Harrowheart never mentioned anything, but on recalling his own dramas with relationships, quickly decides he knows the reason why. All that thinking means he isn't asking the question Isidor wishes he would ask. It's left up to her.

"What... What do you mean 'he's the Farina'?" she asks, trying to sound curious instead of anxious.

Anna sees Lawrence part his lips and hurries to speak before he can. She's sure she can approach this more diplomatically than her brother can.

"When Peter met Farina, he was... Twenty three? Farina was six hundred years old. He told us that's young for a Draenei. Some of them have been around for thousands of years. They don't die of old age like we do. If the two of them fell in love and made a life together, eventually there would be a day when she was still around and he wasn't. She told him it hurt too much to think about falling in love with someone whose life would be over in just a few years. I... Imagine fifty years didn't feel like much to someone who had already been around ten times that long."

Everyone lets that sit for a moment, silent and uncomfortable with the kind of talk that doesn't feel right for a dinner with friends. Lawrence, unperturbed, fills in the unspoken blank.

"He's probably gonna live forever, you know? Harrowheart, I mean. Nobody really knows for sure, but it's not like he's falling apart, and he's not exactly getting any older. We're all gonna be bones and robot arms in the ground some day and he's gonna be... I don't know. Here. Alone."

Robin puffs out her cheeks and slowly exhales in the silence that follows. Lawrence goes for a second serving of carrots and doesn't mind the way his silverware clinks against his crystal plate.

Isidor turns from Anna and Lawrence to face the table properly once again. She hadn't considered that. A thousand things and she hadn't considered Harrowheart's impending immortality. It didn't seem quite the same thing, living forever, when he's already dead. She's as silent and as uncomfortable as ~~most of~~ the Weatherhills.

It's Viatorus who tries to continue the conversation, albeit very quietly. He turns to Lawrence to softly ask him a question that he'd left the dreamwalker with his casual rambling of fatality."Do you, um, do you, maybe, think you, um, could turn into a... a-a-a, well, a full robot some day? Since-Since you're part- you're part robot already."

Lawrence may be a gruff man inside and out, but he's not above being patient for Viatorus' question. He leans in to better hear him, but doesn't interrupt or mock his stutter. But if any of that gives Viatorus the impression that he's going to be reasonable in his response he's got another thing coming.

"FUCK no!" Lawrence shouts, startling Anna and bringing a frown to his father's face. "I hate this thing! I hate technology! If I have to get another Light damned robot part I'm just gonna go ahead off myself! Pull the trigger!"

Anna gasps, "Lawrence!" Tamminy pats her arm and leans back so that she can speak to Viatorus.

"Don't listen to him, he's just being a Lawrence. I assure you, in theory it's entirely possible to turn a person into a full-blown robot! I made that arm for him, and I know I could make any other limb just as easily -- which is to say with a lot of effort and trial and error. I think we could overcome the loss of an organic torso with a complex chemical filtration system until all the organic parts of the system were replaced. The hardest part would be the brain. Would we leave it in tact in a robotic shell, or in a few generations will we have the technology to extract a person's thoughts and emotions and place them into a computer? Can a personality be an operating system? And what happens to the soul at that point? Of course we could put the soul into the robot with magic, but would it still be connected to the mind? I'm not sure I'm prepared to answer those kinds of questions. That's why I'm satisfied researching photoelectricity, not giving people... Robotomies."

Lawrence, satisfied with his moment of Being a Lawrence, soon calms down. As if he hadn't just had a major outburst he casually adds to Viatorus, "I'm thinking about having Harrowheart turn me into a worgen, though. Maybe it'll fix my hairline..." He runs a hand through his hair and cups his palm over the thinning spot on the crown of his head.

"We're all thinking about it, actually," his father says. "None of us see the downside of it. Winters wouldn't be so cold, physical labor would be easier. And... I know my son is lonely without anyone like him around. It might bring us all closer in the end."

The unexpectedly loud outburst from Lawrence makes Viatorus jump in his seat and startles him so much he doesn't manage to form his usual rapid fire apologies before Tamminy takes over. The hypothesising and unanswerable questions are familiar territory, but he continues to glance to Lawrence until the man seems to have thoroughly calmed. It's only then that he smiles weakly and nods in agreement with Tamminy's conclusion and thanks for the thoughts.

Once it becomes certain that Lawrence isn't an actual threat to her brother, Isidor also calms. She's far more interested in the topic that follows. It's just on the tip of her tongue to ask if that would conflict with Mrs. Weatherhill's feelings on 'interracial' living. "Really?" she asks instead. "Don't you think that would feel strange? To change what you are like that. Wouldn't you feel like you'd… lost a part of who you are?"

"What we are isn't what we look like," Hardtman says softly. "It's the things we've experienced, how we relate to each other, and who we want to be inside. We decide for ourselves who we are in our actions and in our words."

In a calm and even way Lawrence says to Viatorus, "Am I not the same person I was before because I lost my arm?" His mechanical fingers flex before Viatorus to prove his point and even, just the tiniest bit, he smiles.

"You're definitely more of a whiner," Robin says with a laugh, spoiling the moment but bringing a soft and genuine smile to Lawrence's face. For a second there he really does resemble his brother, until he elbows her and she 'oof!'s, giving him a certain kind of satisfaction.

He returns his attention to Viatorus and confirms, "Maybe I'm a bigger whiner, but I'm still the same person. We all want to believe Harrowheart is the same person he used to be even after everything that's happened to him, too. I don't know if he believes it, but I think it's true."

"The same," Anna begins thoughtfully, "But... Happier? Now that he's someplace new. And I think we're all happier, in a way? Ever since we left Westfall we... Really learned a lot about who we are." She looks around the table to take in the sight of her family and friends. "Right?"

Some nod immediately, but others take a moment to survey the scene around them. Jacob and Heather consider their daughter and their son, Matt stares at his palms while Robin turns her eyes toward the work they've done on Ixis Naugus' land. Mr. Weatherhill reaches out to hold his wife's hand, and she takes it with a smile.

Softly Hardtman whispers, "You're right. I think we've all learned that finding out who you are... Sometimes it means taking a big chance. Making a change you never thought you could, and seeing what you're made of when you come out on the other side."

The banter and play between the Weatherhill siblings gets a large smile from the scholar who leans back slightly to give Lawrence and Robin space to elbow each other to their hearts' content.

"Maybe you're not the same, then, but better?" Viatorus chimes in, hastily adding, "N-Not that you weren't good before, I mean, but... You've grown."

Isidor doesn't look convinced. The corner of her lips pulls in uncertainty. "But changing species... That's different. That's big. It's not just an experience. That's changing your very blood." She hesitates, trying to figure out how best to word it. "Don't you feel like that would be disconnecting from your ancestors? From the blood that ties you to your world?"

Viatorus' correction of his statement gets a few good-natured laughs and encouraging nods. He gets it! The family is ready to foster that mindset in their own ways. Even Lawrence nods, if more reserved in his enthusiasm than the rest. The kid's on the right track, he can commend that.

But Isidor...

"Who gives a shit about that?" Lawrence asks her, then scoffs. This woman is horrible and so are her ideas.

Hardtman, though, seems to think otherwise. He places his palms on the table and calmly says, "Our guest does, or she wouldn't have asked. And if it's important to our guest, then it's important to us. Let's show some grace and answer her honestly."

It shames Lawrence, if only enough to make him look at his once more empty plate in frustrated thought. If anything, his father defending Isidor probably isn't going to make him like her any more, but at least for now he bites his tongue.

Hardtman continues on unperturbed. "It's a hard question to answer, Ms. Durant, I won't lie. My answer might not be the answer that would change your mind if you were in my situation, but I can at least tell you my own story." He takes a deep drink of his water before he begins, which he's in no rush to do.

"My grandfather was born in a place on our world called the Arathi Highlands. The Kingdom of Arathor dates back to the beginning of humanity thousands of years ago. It's where we first discovered magic, where we made our first allies, and where the seven human kingdoms began. Being an Arathi human was – is – a great honor. But one day when he was a young, successful man my grandfather was presented with an opportunity to be gifted a small parcel of land in Westfall if he would take himself and his trade down there. Of course this was decades before the droughts hit, back when Westfall was a fertile but more dangerous place. It was a good offer back then, and not an easy choice to make. He had to sit down and really weigh his options.

"On the one hand, he could stay true to his roots and honor his ancestors and the ancient lands they were buried in... On the other, he was a freshly-married man with a child on the way, and it was his duty to do everything he could to secure a prosperous future for his family. In the end, he thought he found a way to do both. He looked back at the history of Arathi and realized it was the starting point of humanity... But that humanity had only become a great race because of its willingness to forge its own paths. Brave men and women set out from the highlands with no proof of their destinations – only hope for their futures. Eventually, over many generations, those people formed kingdoms which stretched across the entire world... The Kingdom of Arathor was everywhere, he realized – not only in the lands of her people or the people of her lands, but in their new lands, too, and all the people who lived in them. Our blood was in our veins, but also in our art, our culture, our trade, and our thoughts. Who we were became what we did, and what we did changed the world.

"When I was a young boy my grandfather told me that he learned a great many things when he made his final choice. Throughout my childhood and until I became a young man looking to forge a future for myself he taught me those lessons. And one of them was this: Your past only exists to create your future. Every choice a man – or a woman – makes in his or her life, they make it for a day they haven't yet lived. Sometimes they make choices for days they know they won't live to see. A thousand years ago a group of humans left their only safe-haven for the far-off mysteries of the unknown world, hoping only to be safe for one more day. A hundred years ago a man left his homeland in search of prosperity for his child who was soon to be born. A few months back a man and his family left their world behind for a mysterious new place, where now they work the land in hopes that in the seasons to come something good will grow. All of them are the same story, Isidor. The story of my blood is of risk, and change, and hope for the future, and it's told just by me being here today. It's the story of my children's blood now, and their children, too. No matter what any of us do, the blood of the first Arathi people will always be a part of us. Even when our stories are long forgotten, what ties me to my ancestors is that I've existed at all. It means they've succeeded in some tiny way.

"If I became a worgen tomorrow that could never take away what gives my blood its meaning. Nothing can change my sixty years as a Westfall man, or turn me into anything but the grandson of an Arathi man, or disappear a thousand years of Arathi men and women that lived and died as part of my story. As long as I was, I am."

He reaches for his glass once more and takes a long, long drink then. When he sets his empty cup on the table once more he very quietly chuckles, humbled and embarrassed at having said so much. "And what I am is very thirsty, because I don't think I've spoken that much at once in years."

After the relaxed approval moving around the table, Lawrence's outburst catches Viatorus off guard (again) and he flinches. Isidor, however, expected some kind of reaction, but she reflexively stiffens and straightens at the aggressiveness, affording him a side glance but nothing more.

She listens to Hardtman's story as carefully as any tale of her own family history. Lineage is important and she will give it every respect she would give another noble family. Perhaps even more. When he finishes she smiles politely and dips her head in thanks and understanding.

"Our family line was born from the union of a family descended from a great dragon and another blessed by the goddess they worshipped with great power and knowledge. This union brought together the power and principles that made our family what it is today." She's silent for a moment. "If I were to look to become another being, another species, I can't help but feel that would be disrespectful to the people who came before me. They all worked to make our family something to they felt they could be proud, or even prouder, of. To take such a firm step away from them would feel like I was saying the bloodline wasn't good enough for me, or that I wasn't proud of the heritage they left me."

She glances to Viatorus who is staying particularly quiet, making efforts to pick at his remaining food in order to avoid participation in the conversation. Realising his discomfort, she puts on her smile again and turns it back to Hardtman. "There is a difference between a family linked by blood and one linked by deeds of course."

A dragon! Well that wows most gathered, especially Mrs. Weatherhill, who clasps her hands together excitedly. When Isidor is quiet Hardtman nods in understanding, though also with some small amount of disappointment. Perhaps he and Isidor aren't going to see eye to eye on this, but he accepts it.

Lawrence picks up his silverware only to set it down with forced composure. He leans back, laughing like Isidor just has the most interesting small talk in the world, and with a smile jokes, "If that's what you feel about being a worgen, I can't imagine how you'd feel if you wound up undead."

Respect is all she asks for. That she and Hardtman both seem to have an understanding when it comes to their opinions is a good start. It's more than she has with most of the people she dines with.

That small victory is short lived, however, with Lawrence's sly remark. For a moment she's tempted to pardon her brother and herself, making some excuse for their sudden departure. But she's faced worse, she reminds herself. She endures Poenia's company on a semi-regular basis, after all. Her lips press into a thin line and she pulls a smile. A thousand answers race through her head, but she settles on, "Complicated, I would imagine."

Lawrence throws his head back and barks one loud laugh. He wags a mechanical finger at her like she's just told a fantastic joke, and he begins to say something, but before he gets farther than "I'd have thought –" Tamminy makes a loud sound with her silverware and blurts out, "Dessert!"

Lawrence closes his mouth and looks at her as she motions to the boxes the Durants brought with them. "You all just reminded me, we've got dessert still! I've been absolutely dying to find out what's in those boxes. Gnomish curiosity, you know!" She laughs, just a smidge manic about it, and waves between Isidor and the boxes.

"Is it time? Can we have some? And then maybe we can play some music! Lawrence, you should show everyone how good you are with the violin! If you want to go get all the instruments I'd be glad to go with?"

Tamminy, wise woman that she is, has distracted him, at least for now. He hasn't forgotten, of course, because his reply takes some deliberation, but at the very least she's bought him a moment to reconsider making a total prick out of himself in front of family and friends. He rises from his seat, but just as Tamminy turns to follow him he turns back to the group.

"Wait a minute," he says, holding out a hand for Tamminy to pause. "If I'm going to bring the instruments I should have someone tall to help me out. No offense, Tams. How about..." He scans the crowd and finally lands on... "Viatorus? Why don't you come with? Everything's right inside the tower, and nothing's too heavy. Just gonna need you to be careful with the strings."

The change of plans leaves Tamminy slightly anxious, but she at least must not think Lawrence will do Viatorus any harm, because she accepts it all with nothing more than a half-hearted wave and a return to the possibility of desserts.

With the growing tension Isidor had been preparing herself for a sharp remark in return when Tamminy intervenes. Quietly grateful for the distraction, she lets go of a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She's happy to turn her attention to helping with desserts and clearing the table. Just when she thought Lawrence was leaving, he has to go and ask for Viatorus' help and once more she finds her muscles tense.

The dreamwalker jumps and glances over to meet his sister's gaze for a split second, enough to see her uncertainty but no outright protest. Then he looks back to Lawrence and nods, awkwardly clambering out of his seat and trotting over to follow the man. "Yes, yes of course. I'm, um, I'm happy to help."

Viatorus' compliance is, despite his cooperative personality, still somewhat unexpected. Seeing him approach softens Lawrence's expression, and when he's close enough he guides him to the tower with a metal hand lightly resting on his shoulder.

He doesn't speak until the magical gateway of the castle opens up to envelop them. Dramatic as the entrance is, it's still the same old castle inside, aside from the smallest details -- shoes, drawings -- that mark the presence of its new humans.

"You're an okay kid," he says. It's his own attempt to clear the air right off the bat. "Quiet, but not bad. I can see why you're friends with my brother."

With his hand still on Viatorus' shoulder he leads them to what passes for a living room in Naugus' castle. There's an uncomfortable-looking stone throne currently covered in pillows, and many more pillows and bedrolls laid out around the room. No doubt this is where the family does their sleeping, all dozen of them and a baby together in a room. In the corner are the instruments Lawrence had hinted at: a violin, a banjo, a guitar all resting quietly against a wall.

Lawrence frees Viatorus from his touch and waves him over to the instruments, but before he picks them up he blocks the way and looks his brother's friend in the face.

"I got somethin' serious to talk to you about, though, if you think you're ready to hear it. I wanna ask you something, and I want you to be honest, if you can." That statement sits for a breath or two before Lawrence finally asks, "This person my brother is interested in... Do you have any idea who they are?"

Edited (I took away V's good vibes because he doesn't deserve it :|8) 2017-04-14 22:50 (UTC)

Watching her brother walk away with a man who doesn't seem all that stable makes Isidor's stomach clench, but now is not the time to be the overprotective sister. Pushing down the sick feeling in her stomach, she smiles and turns to the remaining Weatherhill's to help them clear the table and set out dessert.

It feels strange to have a near stranger hold him by the shoulder and talk to him with such familiarity. Then again, Lawrence does resemble Harrowheart a little, in the way he looks and speaks. So perhaps he's not that much of a stranger.

He smiles and nods his thanks at Lawrence's compliment, but tries to look attentive and serious for Lawrence's serious question. It's not one he expected and he blinks a few times. "Oh." He blinks some more and looks away, embarrassment sneaking onto his face. "No, actually. I-I-I feel a little bad, really. I've been so... wrapped up in my own troubles with... um, with, uh, relationships, that I never thought to ask Harrowheart about how he's doing with them. I'm... I'm, um, not very good at asking about that sort of thing anyway," he admits sheepishly.

He looks at Lawrence and then turns his gaze around the room as he thinks. "Dark hair and a powerful mage... I suppose there's my sister and I. There's... also a mage named Felix and his brother... Stra... Stratos, I think? I can't remember. My sister's always been a little better at remembering people's names. I know they're mages, and I think they have dark hair too? I... I can't think of anyone else."

This time there's concern in his eyes when he looks back to Lawrence. "Do you have to give them a message? Like my sister had to give to... to people who... who hoped to be more than friends?"

Viatorus mentions his sister and himself and Lawrence's head crooks closer, eyes wide. Aaaand then he goes listing off strange names and Lawrence's eyes have already glazed over. He only barely shakes himself awake when he realizes Viatorus is asking him a question, and still he has to piece it back together retroactively.

"Huh? Uh, sure. Sure. Whatever weird shit you people do, yeah, uh, us too." Though the more he thinks about it the more it comes together. This boy is utterly clueless in matters of love and his harpy of a sister swoops in to 'give a message to' all prospective lovers... It's probably for the best that he brought him someplace private to divulge this coming secret.

He takes Viatorus by the shoulder and lowers his head to be on level with him. "My brother might look strong, but I wanna tell you something right off the bat: He's a delicate guy inside. He cries a lot – basically about everything, all the time – and he especially doesn't handle rejection well. He takes it way too personally. So when I heard he was interested in someone, I knew I had to look out for him. Right? I mean, I might be a shit human being, but I try to be a decent older brother. And that means keeping my brother from getting hurt too bad. And that means when I find out he's interested in someone, I need to step in and make sure that when he finally gets up the nerve to ask them out they're ready to let him down in a delicate way. Because, I mean... He's my brother, and I love him, but I know he's kind of in a... Unique sort of... Situation. He's not something most folks are interested in, and I get that, but I just don't want him to have to hear that from the person he's got feelings for. I don't want him to spring his emotions on someone and get dumped harsh in the heat of the moment. That makes sense, right?..."

He dabs the back of his human hand against his forehead and stops for a breather. He's rambling, but the idea of cutting to the chase feels so strangely uncomfortable. There are too many sordid facts to sort out when dealing with reality. Nevertheless, stalling isn't going to solve this. He's just going to have to say it.

"What I'm trying to avoid saying is... Viatorus... You realize the person he's in love with... Is you?"

Love is an awkward enough topic without speculating on your friend's love life, but Lawrence does seem entirely earnest in his questions and concern. It doesn't make it any more comfortable as the older man shares his experiences of his brother that feel so private. Viatorus finds himself trying not to squirm as he feels more and more rude for listening to all of this. He finds himself desperately wishing Isidor was here instead of him. Even moreso a second later.

Viatorus' face drops, cheeks flushing bright red and eyes going wide. "No!" He yelps suddenly. Lawrence must be wrong. He must be. "H-H-He can't! He doesn't! He can't! I-I-It's not like that! I'm engaged! He's met my fiancée!"

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