Hello loves! While I haven't been writing, I have been working on updating some issues that have been hanging around on the layout! The Character change box is now at the bottom of the page, beside the up/down arrows! Green and Gold dragon flight dates have been shifted to the bottom of the page, where the (useless!) discord widget was located. Where the dragon flights were in the header, is now replaced by a Monthly Event box! This will be updated at the start of each month, with a fun mini-event you can take part in, if you want to! Thistle!
23.Jun.12, 09:30 PM
You have a daughter
Talian's expression was unchanged. He sat there in transfixed silence, his tawny eyes locked mercilessly on B'jin's as the information sank in. A daughter?
There were so many potential responses, so many emotions rushing wildly through his mind and heart. Was he angry? Sad? Worried? Who was the biggest victim of all? Was it really him, who would would probably never have a chance to see his little girl? Fiora, who'd live the shamed life of an unwed mother and probably suffer through a compromised career, all to raise the child of her disappeared partner? Or was it the little girl herself, who would never know her own father?
It figured, Tal thought. After all his careful efforts not to be like Talerian, he was still a deadbeat dad.
He sank a little bit in his seat, face unchanging as he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a drink. He closed his eyes, vaguely conscience of some tears dripping slowly from his eyes. His throat ached, too much to speak but not enough to cry. He appeared altogether tranquil, the only sign of his utter shock and cocktail of wild emotions coming from his white-knuckled grip on the bottle.
"No...I don't," he said at length, his voice quavering only slightly. He was the epitome of calm, his gaze steady and his fingers oddly still when normally they might have been twitchy and anxious. He realized in those long seconds that after such a long time away from home, with so many days and months dragging on, that he didn't much care anymore. He wanted to care, he really did. He wanted to explode. He wanted to scream at B'jin for doing this to him, but for what?
He knew he had a daughter, but he just didn't feel like it. He could pour over the situation with his mind and analyze it, he could assign blame and imagine outcomes or scenarios, but it didn't feel right. He wasn't there for the news. He hadn't watched as his partner's stomach swelled. He hadn't given her the medical care and guidance that he'd promised. He hadn't felt the baby kick or held Fiora's hair back for her during morning sickness. He hadn't been there to panic when her water broke, or to hold her hand when she went into labor.
He wasn't there to hold the little girl now.
It wasn't his. It would never be his, not now.
He sighed, rubbing a couple errant tears away and cutting his eyes away from B'jin. His body was rigid and almost statue-like, but his eyes revealed his true feelings. He was crushed, so crushed that he could barely feel it himself. He was ashamed for this unexpected feeling of detachment, the inability to sob and explode like he felt he was supposed to. He just couldn't believe it. How could something like this have happened in such a short time? How could such a thing happen when he wasn't there?
Maybe he was just in shock. Maybe it could come crashing down on his head later and he'd feel like drinking himself to death. He took another drink of wine and wiped his eyes again. His eyes were watering more readily now, threatening to spill into gushing tears at any moment. That moment never came.
Instead, he shook his head and spoke in a strained voice: "I know her name...We picked out names a long time ago, one for a boy and one for a girl. We left mine out of both of them, since it's s-so close to my father's. We used hers and her mother's." He paused to swallow. His name was left out. Fiora had protested at first, saying that the father's name deserved to be part of the child's, but Tal couldn't stand the idea of his own father's name being perpetuated. It seemed like it was for the best now.
He slumped forward, resting one elbow on the table and rubbing his temples. "...It doesn't matter anymore, though. Thanks for telling me." His words were empty, barely hinting at the conflicted feelings lurking under his weary, far-stretched demeanor. It was bad news he expected, but he'd never been good at handling bad news. He finished off the bottle and let out another sigh; wait, he finished it? But hadn't he only taken a couple drinks in the last few moments?
Or had it been more?
"...I'm glad she's going to be all right, though," Tal added at the end. His voice softened slightly, lined with just a hint of affection. Love. That child would never truly be his, but he still loved her. He loved both of them. He always would. But he couldn't be part of their lives now, and pretending otherwise was going to kill him if he didn't stop.
It was over.
Talian's expression was unchanged. He sat there in transfixed silence, his tawny eyes locked mercilessly on B'jin's as the information sank in. A daughter?
There were so many potential responses, so many emotions rushing wildly through his mind and heart. Was he angry? Sad? Worried? Who was the biggest victim of all? Was it really him, who would would probably never have a chance to see his little girl? Fiora, who'd live the shamed life of an unwed mother and probably suffer through a compromised career, all to raise the child of her disappeared partner? Or was it the little girl herself, who would never know her own father?
It figured, Tal thought. After all his careful efforts not to be like Talerian, he was still a deadbeat dad.
He sank a little bit in his seat, face unchanging as he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a drink. He closed his eyes, vaguely conscience of some tears dripping slowly from his eyes. His throat ached, too much to speak but not enough to cry. He appeared altogether tranquil, the only sign of his utter shock and cocktail of wild emotions coming from his white-knuckled grip on the bottle.
"No...I don't," he said at length, his voice quavering only slightly. He was the epitome of calm, his gaze steady and his fingers oddly still when normally they might have been twitchy and anxious. He realized in those long seconds that after such a long time away from home, with so many days and months dragging on, that he didn't much care anymore. He wanted to care, he really did. He wanted to explode. He wanted to scream at B'jin for doing this to him, but for what?
He knew he had a daughter, but he just didn't feel like it. He could pour over the situation with his mind and analyze it, he could assign blame and imagine outcomes or scenarios, but it didn't feel right. He wasn't there for the news. He hadn't watched as his partner's stomach swelled. He hadn't given her the medical care and guidance that he'd promised. He hadn't felt the baby kick or held Fiora's hair back for her during morning sickness. He hadn't been there to panic when her water broke, or to hold her hand when she went into labor.
He wasn't there to hold the little girl now.
It wasn't his. It would never be his, not now.
He sighed, rubbing a couple errant tears away and cutting his eyes away from B'jin. His body was rigid and almost statue-like, but his eyes revealed his true feelings. He was crushed, so crushed that he could barely feel it himself. He was ashamed for this unexpected feeling of detachment, the inability to sob and explode like he felt he was supposed to. He just couldn't believe it. How could something like this have happened in such a short time? How could such a thing happen when he wasn't there?
Maybe he was just in shock. Maybe it could come crashing down on his head later and he'd feel like drinking himself to death. He took another drink of wine and wiped his eyes again. His eyes were watering more readily now, threatening to spill into gushing tears at any moment. That moment never came.
Instead, he shook his head and spoke in a strained voice: "I know her name...We picked out names a long time ago, one for a boy and one for a girl. We left mine out of both of them, since it's s-so close to my father's. We used hers and her mother's." He paused to swallow. His name was left out. Fiora had protested at first, saying that the father's name deserved to be part of the child's, but Tal couldn't stand the idea of his own father's name being perpetuated. It seemed like it was for the best now.
He slumped forward, resting one elbow on the table and rubbing his temples. "...It doesn't matter anymore, though. Thanks for telling me." His words were empty, barely hinting at the conflicted feelings lurking under his weary, far-stretched demeanor. It was bad news he expected, but he'd never been good at handling bad news. He finished off the bottle and let out another sigh; wait, he finished it? But hadn't he only taken a couple drinks in the last few moments?
Or had it been more?
"...I'm glad she's going to be all right, though," Tal added at the end. His voice softened slightly, lined with just a hint of affection. Love. That child would never truly be his, but he still loved her. He loved both of them. He always would. But he couldn't be part of their lives now, and pretending otherwise was going to kill him if he didn't stop.
It was over.
