Logs:Fathers and Sons
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| RL Date: 18 December, 2015 |
| Who: Drex |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: Drex ponders fatherhood. |
| When: Day 1, Month 8, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Ethran/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions, Itsy/Mentions |
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| It wasn't true, of course, that he never had a father, though he often liked to pretend otherwise. He remembered bits -- a stern, deep voice; the smell of a cigar burning; the distracted pat to his head as one might acknowledge a pet's good behavior. He wasn't one to linger, to try and rememeber: the memories made him anxious in a way that was completely unmanly, and often ended with him buried deep in his cups. Still, Ethran made him wonder: will I be a better father? He reassured Farideh otherwise, but the fact that he couldn't be sure, even in the honesty of his own thoughts, bothered him more often than not. There were many things that he accepted were part of his life, now, that he'd never dreamed would be. Living in a Weyr, albeit part time, for one. A girl like Farideh, for another. But a baby was definitly right up there in the list of things he'd never even conceived as being in his daily life. He hadn't written Itsy yet. He ought to -- she would find out, sooner or later, and some part of him -- a big part of him -- yearned for the open sea. The Pirate Queen II called to him -- he longed to be away from all the people who were constantly in fear of the slightest sneeze, or the slightest contact. In his dreams, he could convince Farideh to let him take Ethran with him -- for safety. In his reality, his sleep-deprived brain balked at the notion. Even with a full time nanny, Ethran cried near constantly, and was always pooping or eating. He didn't hold it against the kid, though -- after all, his life amounted to much the same, except he substituted drinking for the crying. Sometimes, he stood staring at Ethran's sleeping form, wondering why he didn't immediately, completely love the weird looking baby. That's what was supposed to happen -- so everyone said. Love at first sight, and all that idiotic, poetic diatribe. Except he didn't. He wanted to. But the kid's ears stuck out and he always smelt of poop and the times of coming home late and drunk and sleeping in were non-existant. He and Farideh hadn't even thought about sex in as long as he could remember. He was just fucking tired. And yet it made him wonder if it were him; if he was broken in some way, because he couldn't love his funny-looking-son. It kind of crept up on him, in the end. It was the smell, first. His son had a smell (when he didn't smell of shit), that made him want to press his nose against Ethran's chest and breathe in, deeply. It was the way his eyes -- eyes that reminded him of Farideh -- stared up at him, so innocent and wide-eyed. The way Ethran's fingers curled, reflexively, around his own, gripping as tight as any sailor might in a storm tossed ship. The way it made him imagine, one day, teaching the boy, his son, how to tie a proper knot, how to trim a sail, and how to climb the rigging. The way he dreamed of the things he loved: the sea, his ship, his Captain, his girl. And without much fanfare, how those dreams included Ethran, too. |
Comments
Jocelyn (19:55, 19 December 2015 (PST)) said...
<3!
No one is immune to biochemistry. Not even pirates. XD
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