Callan's Decision
Callan / Les
Callan / Les
For much of her life, Callan had been taught that, in order to survive in this world, one had to shine brighter and more beautifully than any other.
The Bijous were a family of jewellers. Fine craftspeople whose dedication to the art of perfection had earned them a spot at the heights of society. They knew beauty and elegance like the back of their hand, cut and polished flaws out of unseemly rock until it gleamed a precious jewel.
For a gem, perfection was everything. It was what caught the eye and fetched a high price. It was what all coveted for special occasions. For a gem, perfection was worth, value, and gems that weren’t perfect weren’t worth anything at all. Cracks, chips, unsightly stains - no one ever purchased such low-quality jewelry.
Callan's family fashioned themselves the same way. The Bijous considered themselves diamonds, and as such they held themselves to a rigorous set of standards - beautiful and excellent, poised and graceful. High-grade. Flawless, for in their high society world, any flaw meant loss - of value, of worth. Their livelihoods.
Perfection ensured the survival of the family’s good name, financially, physically, in health and reputation. Nothing less could do.
Callan could not remember if she had ever truly been happy with her lot in life. She was a diamond, the next head of their name, and her family had demanded perfection of her as they did all their gems. Duty came before pleasure, they’d said; for the sake of the family, personal desires were a luxury they could not afford.
Perhaps had her brother still lived, things would have been different. He had always been far better, more proper, an heir than she ever was. Took to his station like a fish to water. She’d simply been walking in his shoes.
…How surreal, to think about him. It’s been so long that she barely recalls the sound of his voice anymore.
Ferric always had a way about him. Everyone who saw and spoke to him always said he was such a polite, graceful young fellow. A charismatic sort, with a disarming expression on his face and an excellent sense of decorum.
He’d been made for the spotlight. Quite literally! He’d been the heir to their family long before Callan ever was, and he’d been every bit the flawless diamond that their family desired.
Funny how some of Callan's earliest memories of him were of him complaining about how dull his lessons were.
She considers herself lucky - no one else ever heard the little thoughts in his head, she’s certain. How he hated sitting up straight, how he wished he could sneak out sometimes, how much he just detested diamonds simply because their parents never stopped talking about them.
“They always expect too much,” Ferric might grouse, “Dinner this, friendship that. We aren’t actually diamonds, you know.”
Callan wouldn’t have known. Ferric was the eldest, and the future head of their family. Their parents paid far more attention to him than they did to her, their young second born. Left to her own devices, she’d been more concerned with tea parties and playthings than anything else.
It was, as she recalled, a bit of a lonely existence. But Ferric had always been there for her, no matter how busy his own life became. How often would he take her to pick flowers in the gardens, or go for little treasure hunts? Why, he’d even tolerated her tea parties!
Let’s get away from all of this family nonsense, he’d say. Do something fun. Callan remembered it clearly. No matter who he was, or who he had to be, he’d always tried to make her happy.
And she'd been happy. Long before all of this family nonsense settled upon her shoulders. Like a yoke. Just…an oblivious, happy child. Like any other.
“Diamonds are cold things. They can’t love, can’t hug. They aren’t alive like we are. Even if it’s flawless, a rock is still just a rock. No matter what our parents say.”
She remembers the way Ferric had stared off across the water as he’d said those words one day, watching the stone he’d thrown sink to the bottom of the estate pond. The look on his face had been hard to read.
“Family is everything, Callan,” He’d said, “It’s warmth. Love. Support. It’s about being there. That’s family. Not diamonds.
“No amount of lifeless diamonds will ever compare to the warmth of what family is. Don’t forget that.”
Callan, so very young and little, had promised not to forget.
And indeed, she hadn’t. Callan had not forgotten.
Was family not the reason for her to fill his shoes when he passed so suddenly? Was it not for family that she was elected to take on the duties expected of the future head of their house and business, with him no longer present?
Ferric had passed. She was the next in line. It fell to her to pick up the pieces and learn all that he had.
No, perhaps she had not been happy about it. Perhaps she had indeed detested the stress and expectation put upon her. Many tearful nights spent in private, many woeful days of stress and toil and the feeling that none of it was fair. But her family was everything to her. And for Ferric, who had sacrificed so much for them, who had walked this path before her - she had to do what was necessary to keep his memory alive.
Out of warmth, out of love, out of support for her family and the dear brother she had lost, she had taken up his mantle without complaint. Through each etiquette lesson and lecture, she had supported her family in all the ways they’d desired of her, meeting their expectations and refining and polishing herself into a perfect gem.
She would learn all her brother had learned. She would become a diamond as dazzling and flawless as the rest, just like her brother had once been. For her family, for their livelihoods and their future, Callan would be perfect.
There was beauty in accepting that.
------------------------------------
When Estella was born, Callan once told Les that she had never seen a more flawless jewel in her life.
Estella, her dear daughter. How happy Callan had been to be blessed so with her birth. The sweet way she’d looked at her, the way she had cooed and babbled with the articulation only an infant could muster. Callan could still remember it all so vividly. Even today, it could move her to tears.
Callan had sworn to do right by her the first time she saw Estella’s little face. Many years had passed since the fateful day she’d taken the family yoke, and in that span of time their name had only flourished and grown, their business prosperous and healthy. Callan had indeed done right by her own, another diamond set in the Bijou family crown, and Estella would have the world in her little hands if Callan had any say in it.
If only Callan didn’t have to worry about her child’s future. The reality was, Estella would one day be the next head of their family, owner of the family’s business and assets. She would be a glittering, high-society gem - and a target for all those high-society vultures seeking to undo her and ruin everything her family had built.
It had been for Estella’s own sake, to give her the best possible chance at life in this high-society, high-stakes world of theirs, that Callan taught her daughter the traditional lessons learned by all their family. Etiquette, protocol. Matters of business. If there were complaints, they were gently shushed, and if there were unseemly behaviors, they were carefully corrected.
Duty always had to come before pleasure when perfection was what ensured their family’s success. The Bijous were a family of diamonds and their flawless brilliance assured their security. Any stray look, any foul word, could well spell their demise. Unacceptable.
Her daughter had to shine brilliantly more than any other when she finally took over as head of household. For Estella’s sake and the future of their family, Callan had to make certain of it.
And yet, when the time came, when her wonderful daughter was grown and ready to begin working beneath her parents–
–Estella had not wanted any part of it.
Back then, Callan could not quite understand it.
Personal preference was a luxury no Bijou could afford. Still, Estella had been clear - she did not wish to run or own any part of the family business whatsoever. She did not wish to be head of household. Did not wish to mingle among her prestigious peers. Did not wish to marry any of her suitors. Estella did not wish to do any of it. She refused to walk the footsteps of her ancestors.
Rebellious, she was. Far more than Callan could ever recall anyone in their family being.
Why? Callan had been fraught with fear asking herself this question. Why did Estella not wish to preserve what their family had built? What had happened to inspire such…such disrespect? Had Callan erred? Gone astray in her teachings? Callan did not know.
It would have been the death of them all if anyone had seen, much less heard of Estella’s defiance. They were a family of diamonds– They were supposed to be flawless. What would people think? What would they do? Imagine the disgrace! The Bijous would be the laughingstock of their entire society! Cast away like junk, imperfect and broken and worthless.
To be imperfect… To be worthless… A broken diamond? Her Estella?
The mere concept made Callan feel ill.
Immediately, she attempted to rectify the situation. If Estella didn’t desire the family business, then being a doctor would have been a fine alternative, surely. Prestigious, proper. And perhaps, if Callan were lucky, time and education would have matured her daughter’s oddly rebellious way of thinking.
But her daughter had not wanted that either. Instead, Callan’s daughter - her Estella, a diamond, a flawless jewel - had settled in that ramshackle town where she had only been sent to study. Moved into what was practically a shack. Refused to leave. Become a nurse, of all things.
And married, of all people, an outsider. Coal to the Bijou family’s flawless diamond brilliance.
Callan had sacrificed and toiled for her family. She had striven to be flawless and beautiful and had been proud of the success she had brought to her name. For her family, she’d been perfect. And they’d thrived.
How could one girl tear down everything they had worked so hard for? Why?
Because Estella believed that how she personally felt mattered, even if it came at the expense of everyone else. That if she did not find joy in doing something, then she should not have to do it. Nor would she.
Callan could not understand how her child could be so selfish.
Les had been the one to make the decision to reduce contact with their daughter. Callan had not objected. Visits would be piecemeal and courteous, and neither of them would tolerate seeing their child with her husband longer than they absolutely had to.
Even in the face of disgrace, Callan retained her sense of decorum. No matter how she mourned and fretted, how much sleep she lost, how she agonized, she was still a diamond.
Estella had no respect for who they were. Her family, her kin, came second to her whims. A foolish, foolish child she was, so far astray that her mother could help her no longer.
Callan could have only prayed that, one day, Estella would look back and realize what she’d lost.
----------------------------
How ironic it was.
What is a Bijou with no family to their name? What is a Bijou when the only family they could dedicate themself to refuses to associate with them? Because of their own ineptitude, no less.
Callan had never expected to be a grandmother in her life. The thought had never even occurred to her. Kadren and Emma, those precious little souls. She never could have believed she would one day be blessed so.
Strange how someone could come around to something when persuaded so. Estella had been rebellious, and Callan intolerant of such foolishness. But grandchildren? How two cute little faces could change things so.
Les had been…less amiable. But Callan, she had been so excited, eager enough even that she’d set aside her differences just to see those grandbabies of hers. And how eager Estella and Bate had been to show her, to share with her this part of their lives.
Why?
Why had Estella and Bate allowed them the grace to see those children?
Why had Estella and Bate allowed them to babysit?
The memory of that night is still so fresh in Callan’s mind. Bate’s anger, Estella’s words that cut to the core– Kadren could be so articulate when he had the means; the little crudely drawn depictions of himself so miserable and sad beside his grandfather were heart-wrenching in a way that Callan still could not grapple with.
She had tried so hard to keep Kadren ignorant to his grandfather’s neglectful bias. Failed, utterly. That day had almost cost Kadren dearly.
Perfection, Callan had been so long told, had been key to their success. If she were perfect, her family would remain safe. If she were a diamond, their future would be secure.
Everything Callan had ever done had always been with her family in mind. There was nothing she would not do if it meant that her loved ones thrived.
Perfection had done nothing. The security of her name, the future of her house? It had not been Estella who had shattered a family apart so irreparably. It had not been Estella cutting and chipping and working a stone until it cracked under the pressure.
Callan and Les almost cost poor Kadren so much, and they’d paid dearly for it.
Now Callan’s family was gone. And there was only herself to blame.
-
To attempt to go back to a normal, every-day life after suffering unbearable loss is an impossible task.
The car ride had been woefully quiet. Their arrival home, uneventful and heavy. She’d not recalled a word spoken by her husband, and she’d not recalled herself doing anything but crying.
How much time had passed since their departure from Estella’s home that sad, fateful night? Callan often struggled to recall. She’d locked herself in her suites upon her arrival home and thereafter had spent much of her time drowning in her sorrows by her lonesome. Staff turned away, appointments cancelled - she could barely get out of bed most mornings let alone attend any work.
She couldn’t bear the thought of acting as if life were still the same when she’d lost everything.
Estella did not want to see or hear from her parents ever again. She did not want them around her children and did not want them in her or her husband’s or her children’s lives any longer. That was her final word and Callan had not heard from her since.
How could one ever go an eternity without the sound of their grandchildren’s laughter, their coos and little chirps? Without the feeling of being embraced by arms too tiny to even wrap around her own?
In her bedroom, surrounded by beautiful, perfect things, in a bed of lavish and luxurious fabrics, it all felt so empty compared to that.
Callan has spent endless nights replaying it all in her mind, asking herself what she could have done differently. Praying that all of this was somehow a dream, some woeful nightmare that she might soon wake up from.
The pictures that Estella had often sent her of the grandchildren, photos and colored drawings, were the only things that ever seemed to draw her focus anymore. So many little mementos from before Estella had cut them out of her life. Mementos which she would never receive again.
And through all of this, all these weeks and months as she lay in her grief, her husband, Les…
…Callan did not know what to think of Les.
Kadren and Emma were as much his grandchildren as they were Callan’s. No, Les was by no means perfect. Les was far from it. His actions, too, had consequences. The way he had presented himself that day had shaken Callan to the core and she would never see him the same again.
The way he presented himself now… Should Callan have been surprised, in retrospect? It still left her beside herself.
He did not cry, of course. He did not complain. He, in fact, said nothing at all. Les simply…went back to work. Buried himself in business, that blasted tobacco pipe in his hand.
Les simply moved on.
And Callan could not understand it.
Did he not mourn them? His family, his grandchildren? Did he not mourn their loss? Did he not see his wife torn apart in grief, isolated in her bedroom? Did he not care?
Where was the man she’d married? Who was this man she saw now? What changed?
Discarding his own family… No wonder Estella and Bate detested them so.
Callan had never meant for this to happen. Callan had never meant to break her family apart. All she had ever wanted to do was help them, keep them safe. She’d wanted the best for her daughter more than anything.
How someone in their family felt about something did not matter when their livelihoods were on the line, she’d been taught. To be safe, to be healthy, it meant sacrifice. It meant being as flawless as the finest jewels. It meant being a diamond.
But being a diamond had not stopped her poor grandchildren from getting hurt. Being perfect had done nothing at all to prevent Kadren’s suffering. She’d only wanted the best for them, but the best hadn’t been enough.
Family was warmth and love, Ferric said - not diamonds. Warmth, love, and being there.
What did it say that Les, Callan’s own husband and Estella’s father, had never been there for either his child or grandchildren? What did it say that Callan had never tried to be there either, up until just a few short years ago when Kadren and Emma were born?
She could not imagine what Ferric would think of her, seeing her now.
Les was but a stranger to her, and she was but a stranger to the only family she had left. What did she do now? What could she do?
She did not know. The more time passed, the less she became able to bear it. She had not ever, ever wanted this. She had not ever meant for this. She’d have taken it all back if she could.
What did she do?
Ferric…
Had he not been there for her? The way he spoke family ought to be? Despite their parents, despite whatever it was their society demanded of them, he’d always been there to make her happy.
He’d sacrificed himself for it, Callan often thought. To be the next head of their family, it required sacrifice, and perfection. He had been perfect, she thought, not because he desired it - NOVA knew he did not - but, perhaps so she herself would not have to be. So she could be happy. It seemed like the only sound reason he did not otherwise do what Estella had done and left.
Callan had devoted herself to their family in his memory, for his sake. Become a diamond, out of love, out of desire for her family’s security. As he sacrificed, so she would too, so her family would be safe.
But
Ferric had sacrificed himself - to make her happy.
Had Callan ever done that? Sacrificed herself to make Estella happy?
No. She had not.
(Personal preference was a luxury no Bijou could afford, her parents said.)
Callan had never been there in the way that truly mattered. Had never thought she could be there.
But she has been wrong about many things in life, she knows by now, and if Ferric had managed to be there for her, to make her happy, despite everything…
Who was to say she could not?
Was that not what he had wished for her? To be there, for their family? Properly?
The thought of going back… It sounds too good to be true after everything that has happened already. Utterly foolish, it is.
But still - the idea would not leave Callan’s head, now that it was there. Because the fact was that she could not bear this anymore.
She did not want to be apart from her family. They were all she had and they were everything to her. If she could undo what had been done, she would. If she could make up for everything she’d lost, everything she’d ruined, she would - and she had so very much to make up for.
Diamonds and gemstones were just rocks. The finery that surrounded her meant nothing compared to the family she’d lost, and she would happily give it all up if it meant seeing them again.
It’s probably far too late, she knows. After so many chances given and squandered, Estella did not wish to see her again and neither did Bate. But even in spite of that, Callan still wanted to try. She wanted to make up for lost time, to be there in the way she never had been, even if all it amounted to was begging for forgiveness at their unresponsive door.
Callan had not ever been there for her family in the way that she should have been.
But perhaps, if her family were so willing–
–She still could be.
-
-
-
There is beauty that surrounds Callan as far as the eye can see as she makes her steady way down the hall towards Les’ offices.
She walks gracefully, despite the heavy weight of what she carries in her hands. The suitcase swings a bit awkwardly in front of her with her steps - she has to reposition it every few moments so that it does not continuously hit her in the legs.
Callan is unused to such a labor as this, perhaps, more unused to it than she ought to be, but still, offers of assistance were refused. She had been the one to clean up her own room and she had been the one to pack her own things. She would also be the one to carry them with her.
Marble halls, beautiful, flawless, and unblemished stretch before her, set with arching, beautiful windows that allow sunlight to alight upon unblemished, polished stone floors. There is not a speck of decay, dirt, or weathering to be found, and when she left, staff would begin cleaning the floor where her feet once trod.
The massive double doors that rise to eventually greet her stand larger than life itself, carved with intricate imagery of those ocean Squids from which Les descended. The gazes of those figures meet her own with, perhaps, something like judgement - sizing up her worth.
At one time, she had admired such intricate detail, distant though her interest was. Now, it feels like staring at little more than a slab of wood.
Callan steps forward and pushes the door open.
Les’ office is a continuation of the estate around which it was built. The ceiling arcs high, marble surrounds them. Portraits, books, trophy things, work materials, these decorate his space with organized finesse, all clean, all polished, diligently upkept. Callan steps forward and stares at her husband settled behind his desk.
He’s a cutting figure that strikes a great contrast surrounded by his precious and luxurious things. Rugged, rough-skinned, a pipe that rests idly in his mouth as he stares down at some agreement proposal or other, Callan could remember the first time she had laid eyes upon him.
He had been chivalrous then. Charming, proud, always there for her. He had saved Estella’s life at the risk of his own and still bore scars to prove it.
Now he won’t even look at her.
Callan drops her suitcase to the floor. The sound echoes with a loud bang.
Only then does Les look up. Steely eyes meet her own, his expression unreadable. Callan wonders how she must look in his gaze, and then decides she does not care. She returns his expression in kind.
“I,” She states, “am leaving.”
Les raises his eyebrow. He places his pen down and reaches up to draw his pipe from his mouth, letting out a slow breath of smoke that dissipates before he responds. “I don’t recall you having a business trip scheduled. Very well. When will you be returning?”
“I will not.”
He stares. The office is silent.
“I cannot do this anymore,” Callan says, finally. How her voice does not tremble, she does not know - she has certainly spent more than enough time crying about it. “It has been six months since we last heard from our daughter. Six months. How can you bear to sit there and act like nothing ever happened?”
Les twitches, barely. Callan watches as he picks up his pen and looks back down at his work, avoiding her, avoiding all mention of his family.
“Rather abrupt time to be having this conversation, isn’t it? Let’s talk about this another time, Callan. Go back to your quarters and later we can–”
“I will not!”
Her voice raises. Callan looks at her husband and feels the tremble of growing tension within her limbs, restrained and ice-cold.
The fury she has felt, the indignation at the unfairness of it all, the bile of disgust– all of it rises within her, clamoring for a way out. When was the last time she’d ever felt this way?
(Six months ago, in Estella’s kitchen. Les had been the cause of her ire then as well.)
“Lester Carlyle Calder, I am done. I refuse to go along with your foolish behavior. I will not be apart from my family any longer.”
Les pauses, his pen just shy of hitting the paper. When he looks back up, what Callan sees is less than pleasant.
He stands in one smooth motion. His chair is pushed away without ceremony and the sound of his footsteps are heavy on the floor as he makes his way around his desk to finally come and meet his wife head-on.
It is unlike Callan to stand up to her husband in this way. But she has done it before, and she will do it again, and so when he glares at her, she glares back with vehemency. “You,” Les grits out, “are willing to throw your entire life away. Everything we’ve worked for, everything we’ve built. Our business, our wealth. Our marriage. For them? Stop speaking nonsense, Callan. NOVA knows how long you’ve spent locked in that room of yours.”
“I am not throwing anything away, Les,” Callan retaliates, “Listen to yourself - speaking about our own daughter, our grandchildren, as if they were–were…worthless commodities! Do not speak to me about throwing something away when you’ve already thrown aside our family as if they were nothing.”
“I have not thrown them away, Callan. I care about Ellie and Emma as much as you do.” He huffs, mindless of the way Callan’s eyes go wide. “I have far more patience to deal with her choices than you realize. When she comes back–”
“She’s not coming back!”
The shriek that leaves Callan is unrecognizable.
The tension in her, the anger, the disgust, the grief of years upon years, all of it cracks and shatters like a stone into dust. Callan speaks and her words feel as if broken shards, chipped and ugly and sharp, and she lets it all tumble out without one single care of how it sounds. “She hasn’t called, she hasn’t texted, she has not written! It has been six months and not a word! Don’t you see? Our Estella doesn’t need us anymore! She hasn’t needed us for a long time! She’s found her happiness without us!”
Les freezes.
“We left her alone when she needed us. We forced her into this– this role that she did not ask for, this image of perfection that has done nothing except leave us all broken, hurting, and miserable! Why would she ever want to come back when all we ever tried to do was break her. Why, Les.”
Imperfect and trembling, Callan reaches down and grabs her suitcase, yanking it up with incredibly unladylike force, aggression she does not recognize. She does not care.
She looks at her husband who stares with a slackened, unreadable expression on his face. “I have made many mistakes in my life, Les. I once thought that I and my family had to sacrifice ourselves for the sake of our livelihoods. I thought we had no other choice. I can tell you now– I was wrong.
“I will not repeat my mistakes again. I will not continue this cold, ruthless cycle of perfection built and perpetuated by my ancestors. Not for wealth, or status, or whatever else it is these high-society pick-pockets so boast about. Estella, Bate, Kadren and Emma are my family no matter who they are, and I will not lose them.”
Her hands squeeze the handle of her suitcase.
“I am going to Kalmari Town and I am going to beg for Estella and Bate’s forgiveness. I can only hope and pray to NOVA that they find it in their hearts to grant me the grace of one more chance. I certainly do not deserve it.”
Callan looks around, at the office around her, at the beauty that has surrounded her nearly all her life. She looks at her husband who gazes upon her, unreadable and unrecognizable both. He stands there without a word and Callan cannot find it in herself to care what he’s thinking. She is far beyond that now.
“Please, think about your family, Les. They are everything. Far, far more than all of…this, that surrounds us. Do you truly not think so? Please, come with me. Your daughter needs you. Your grandchildren need you. Things can change if you find it in yourself to try.”
She doesn’t expect him to respond. After all this time begging him to open his heart to a family that he had never accepted as his own, all this time witnessing just how abhorrent he could truly be, there was no hope ever expecting him to change. Not now, perhaps not ever.
Frozen to the spot, surrounded by the finery and success that he and their ancestors have built, Les does not move.
Of course not. Whoever this is, it is not her husband.
Perhaps it never had been.
“Very well.” Callan says. “Goodbye, Les.”
With nothing but her suitcase and her own will, Callan departs, leaving her home of marble and beauty behind her.
-
Once upon a time, Callan had been a beautiful jewel, one that shined brighter and more beautifully than any other. Those high-society vultures, eager for a piece of her status, her wealth, had all known her over the years as a pinnacle of success.
She had shined, and gleamed, and sparkled, as flawless and beautiful and brilliant as a perfect, flawless diamond– and in the end, she lost everything she ever had.
Now, Callan was as chipped as the rest of them. Chipped, cracked, flawed, broken, worthless, what have you, she no longer cared. Not anymore.
Ferric lingers in her mind, a sacrifice that had not been necessary, a warm presence that had always held her when she cried. Happiness… Money could not buy that. Diamonds could not equal it.
The happiness and love of one’s family was worth far more than any diamond ever could be. It had taken her far, far too long to realize that.
Standing there at the door of Estella and Bate’s home, with nothing but a small suitcase in hand–
–She swears, she will not lose her way again.
Callan takes a deep breath, reaches out her hand, and knocks.
The Bijous were a family of jewellers. Fine craftspeople whose dedication to the art of perfection had earned them a spot at the heights of society. They knew beauty and elegance like the back of their hand, cut and polished flaws out of unseemly rock until it gleamed a precious jewel.
For a gem, perfection was everything. It was what caught the eye and fetched a high price. It was what all coveted for special occasions. For a gem, perfection was worth, value, and gems that weren’t perfect weren’t worth anything at all. Cracks, chips, unsightly stains - no one ever purchased such low-quality jewelry.
Callan's family fashioned themselves the same way. The Bijous considered themselves diamonds, and as such they held themselves to a rigorous set of standards - beautiful and excellent, poised and graceful. High-grade. Flawless, for in their high society world, any flaw meant loss - of value, of worth. Their livelihoods.
Perfection ensured the survival of the family’s good name, financially, physically, in health and reputation. Nothing less could do.
Callan could not remember if she had ever truly been happy with her lot in life. She was a diamond, the next head of their name, and her family had demanded perfection of her as they did all their gems. Duty came before pleasure, they’d said; for the sake of the family, personal desires were a luxury they could not afford.
Perhaps had her brother still lived, things would have been different. He had always been far better, more proper, an heir than she ever was. Took to his station like a fish to water. She’d simply been walking in his shoes.
…How surreal, to think about him. It’s been so long that she barely recalls the sound of his voice anymore.
Ferric always had a way about him. Everyone who saw and spoke to him always said he was such a polite, graceful young fellow. A charismatic sort, with a disarming expression on his face and an excellent sense of decorum.
He’d been made for the spotlight. Quite literally! He’d been the heir to their family long before Callan ever was, and he’d been every bit the flawless diamond that their family desired.
Funny how some of Callan's earliest memories of him were of him complaining about how dull his lessons were.
She considers herself lucky - no one else ever heard the little thoughts in his head, she’s certain. How he hated sitting up straight, how he wished he could sneak out sometimes, how much he just detested diamonds simply because their parents never stopped talking about them.
“They always expect too much,” Ferric might grouse, “Dinner this, friendship that. We aren’t actually diamonds, you know.”
Callan wouldn’t have known. Ferric was the eldest, and the future head of their family. Their parents paid far more attention to him than they did to her, their young second born. Left to her own devices, she’d been more concerned with tea parties and playthings than anything else.
It was, as she recalled, a bit of a lonely existence. But Ferric had always been there for her, no matter how busy his own life became. How often would he take her to pick flowers in the gardens, or go for little treasure hunts? Why, he’d even tolerated her tea parties!
Let’s get away from all of this family nonsense, he’d say. Do something fun. Callan remembered it clearly. No matter who he was, or who he had to be, he’d always tried to make her happy.
And she'd been happy. Long before all of this family nonsense settled upon her shoulders. Like a yoke. Just…an oblivious, happy child. Like any other.
“Diamonds are cold things. They can’t love, can’t hug. They aren’t alive like we are. Even if it’s flawless, a rock is still just a rock. No matter what our parents say.”
She remembers the way Ferric had stared off across the water as he’d said those words one day, watching the stone he’d thrown sink to the bottom of the estate pond. The look on his face had been hard to read.
“Family is everything, Callan,” He’d said, “It’s warmth. Love. Support. It’s about being there. That’s family. Not diamonds.
“No amount of lifeless diamonds will ever compare to the warmth of what family is. Don’t forget that.”
Callan, so very young and little, had promised not to forget.
And indeed, she hadn’t. Callan had not forgotten.
Was family not the reason for her to fill his shoes when he passed so suddenly? Was it not for family that she was elected to take on the duties expected of the future head of their house and business, with him no longer present?
Ferric had passed. She was the next in line. It fell to her to pick up the pieces and learn all that he had.
No, perhaps she had not been happy about it. Perhaps she had indeed detested the stress and expectation put upon her. Many tearful nights spent in private, many woeful days of stress and toil and the feeling that none of it was fair. But her family was everything to her. And for Ferric, who had sacrificed so much for them, who had walked this path before her - she had to do what was necessary to keep his memory alive.
Out of warmth, out of love, out of support for her family and the dear brother she had lost, she had taken up his mantle without complaint. Through each etiquette lesson and lecture, she had supported her family in all the ways they’d desired of her, meeting their expectations and refining and polishing herself into a perfect gem.
She would learn all her brother had learned. She would become a diamond as dazzling and flawless as the rest, just like her brother had once been. For her family, for their livelihoods and their future, Callan would be perfect.
There was beauty in accepting that.
------------------------------------
When Estella was born, Callan once told Les that she had never seen a more flawless jewel in her life.
Estella, her dear daughter. How happy Callan had been to be blessed so with her birth. The sweet way she’d looked at her, the way she had cooed and babbled with the articulation only an infant could muster. Callan could still remember it all so vividly. Even today, it could move her to tears.
Callan had sworn to do right by her the first time she saw Estella’s little face. Many years had passed since the fateful day she’d taken the family yoke, and in that span of time their name had only flourished and grown, their business prosperous and healthy. Callan had indeed done right by her own, another diamond set in the Bijou family crown, and Estella would have the world in her little hands if Callan had any say in it.
If only Callan didn’t have to worry about her child’s future. The reality was, Estella would one day be the next head of their family, owner of the family’s business and assets. She would be a glittering, high-society gem - and a target for all those high-society vultures seeking to undo her and ruin everything her family had built.
It had been for Estella’s own sake, to give her the best possible chance at life in this high-society, high-stakes world of theirs, that Callan taught her daughter the traditional lessons learned by all their family. Etiquette, protocol. Matters of business. If there were complaints, they were gently shushed, and if there were unseemly behaviors, they were carefully corrected.
Duty always had to come before pleasure when perfection was what ensured their family’s success. The Bijous were a family of diamonds and their flawless brilliance assured their security. Any stray look, any foul word, could well spell their demise. Unacceptable.
Her daughter had to shine brilliantly more than any other when she finally took over as head of household. For Estella’s sake and the future of their family, Callan had to make certain of it.
And yet, when the time came, when her wonderful daughter was grown and ready to begin working beneath her parents–
–Estella had not wanted any part of it.
Back then, Callan could not quite understand it.
Personal preference was a luxury no Bijou could afford. Still, Estella had been clear - she did not wish to run or own any part of the family business whatsoever. She did not wish to be head of household. Did not wish to mingle among her prestigious peers. Did not wish to marry any of her suitors. Estella did not wish to do any of it. She refused to walk the footsteps of her ancestors.
Rebellious, she was. Far more than Callan could ever recall anyone in their family being.
Why? Callan had been fraught with fear asking herself this question. Why did Estella not wish to preserve what their family had built? What had happened to inspire such…such disrespect? Had Callan erred? Gone astray in her teachings? Callan did not know.
It would have been the death of them all if anyone had seen, much less heard of Estella’s defiance. They were a family of diamonds– They were supposed to be flawless. What would people think? What would they do? Imagine the disgrace! The Bijous would be the laughingstock of their entire society! Cast away like junk, imperfect and broken and worthless.
To be imperfect… To be worthless… A broken diamond? Her Estella?
The mere concept made Callan feel ill.
Immediately, she attempted to rectify the situation. If Estella didn’t desire the family business, then being a doctor would have been a fine alternative, surely. Prestigious, proper. And perhaps, if Callan were lucky, time and education would have matured her daughter’s oddly rebellious way of thinking.
But her daughter had not wanted that either. Instead, Callan’s daughter - her Estella, a diamond, a flawless jewel - had settled in that ramshackle town where she had only been sent to study. Moved into what was practically a shack. Refused to leave. Become a nurse, of all things.
And married, of all people, an outsider. Coal to the Bijou family’s flawless diamond brilliance.
Callan had sacrificed and toiled for her family. She had striven to be flawless and beautiful and had been proud of the success she had brought to her name. For her family, she’d been perfect. And they’d thrived.
How could one girl tear down everything they had worked so hard for? Why?
Because Estella believed that how she personally felt mattered, even if it came at the expense of everyone else. That if she did not find joy in doing something, then she should not have to do it. Nor would she.
Callan could not understand how her child could be so selfish.
Les had been the one to make the decision to reduce contact with their daughter. Callan had not objected. Visits would be piecemeal and courteous, and neither of them would tolerate seeing their child with her husband longer than they absolutely had to.
Even in the face of disgrace, Callan retained her sense of decorum. No matter how she mourned and fretted, how much sleep she lost, how she agonized, she was still a diamond.
Estella had no respect for who they were. Her family, her kin, came second to her whims. A foolish, foolish child she was, so far astray that her mother could help her no longer.
Callan could have only prayed that, one day, Estella would look back and realize what she’d lost.
----------------------------
How ironic it was.
What is a Bijou with no family to their name? What is a Bijou when the only family they could dedicate themself to refuses to associate with them? Because of their own ineptitude, no less.
Callan had never expected to be a grandmother in her life. The thought had never even occurred to her. Kadren and Emma, those precious little souls. She never could have believed she would one day be blessed so.
Strange how someone could come around to something when persuaded so. Estella had been rebellious, and Callan intolerant of such foolishness. But grandchildren? How two cute little faces could change things so.
Les had been…less amiable. But Callan, she had been so excited, eager enough even that she’d set aside her differences just to see those grandbabies of hers. And how eager Estella and Bate had been to show her, to share with her this part of their lives.
Why?
Why had Estella and Bate allowed them the grace to see those children?
Why had Estella and Bate allowed them to babysit?
The memory of that night is still so fresh in Callan’s mind. Bate’s anger, Estella’s words that cut to the core– Kadren could be so articulate when he had the means; the little crudely drawn depictions of himself so miserable and sad beside his grandfather were heart-wrenching in a way that Callan still could not grapple with.
She had tried so hard to keep Kadren ignorant to his grandfather’s neglectful bias. Failed, utterly. That day had almost cost Kadren dearly.
Perfection, Callan had been so long told, had been key to their success. If she were perfect, her family would remain safe. If she were a diamond, their future would be secure.
Everything Callan had ever done had always been with her family in mind. There was nothing she would not do if it meant that her loved ones thrived.
Perfection had done nothing. The security of her name, the future of her house? It had not been Estella who had shattered a family apart so irreparably. It had not been Estella cutting and chipping and working a stone until it cracked under the pressure.
Callan and Les almost cost poor Kadren so much, and they’d paid dearly for it.
Now Callan’s family was gone. And there was only herself to blame.
-
To attempt to go back to a normal, every-day life after suffering unbearable loss is an impossible task.
The car ride had been woefully quiet. Their arrival home, uneventful and heavy. She’d not recalled a word spoken by her husband, and she’d not recalled herself doing anything but crying.
How much time had passed since their departure from Estella’s home that sad, fateful night? Callan often struggled to recall. She’d locked herself in her suites upon her arrival home and thereafter had spent much of her time drowning in her sorrows by her lonesome. Staff turned away, appointments cancelled - she could barely get out of bed most mornings let alone attend any work.
She couldn’t bear the thought of acting as if life were still the same when she’d lost everything.
Estella did not want to see or hear from her parents ever again. She did not want them around her children and did not want them in her or her husband’s or her children’s lives any longer. That was her final word and Callan had not heard from her since.
How could one ever go an eternity without the sound of their grandchildren’s laughter, their coos and little chirps? Without the feeling of being embraced by arms too tiny to even wrap around her own?
In her bedroom, surrounded by beautiful, perfect things, in a bed of lavish and luxurious fabrics, it all felt so empty compared to that.
Callan has spent endless nights replaying it all in her mind, asking herself what she could have done differently. Praying that all of this was somehow a dream, some woeful nightmare that she might soon wake up from.
The pictures that Estella had often sent her of the grandchildren, photos and colored drawings, were the only things that ever seemed to draw her focus anymore. So many little mementos from before Estella had cut them out of her life. Mementos which she would never receive again.
And through all of this, all these weeks and months as she lay in her grief, her husband, Les…
…Callan did not know what to think of Les.
Kadren and Emma were as much his grandchildren as they were Callan’s. No, Les was by no means perfect. Les was far from it. His actions, too, had consequences. The way he had presented himself that day had shaken Callan to the core and she would never see him the same again.
The way he presented himself now… Should Callan have been surprised, in retrospect? It still left her beside herself.
He did not cry, of course. He did not complain. He, in fact, said nothing at all. Les simply…went back to work. Buried himself in business, that blasted tobacco pipe in his hand.
Les simply moved on.
And Callan could not understand it.
Did he not mourn them? His family, his grandchildren? Did he not mourn their loss? Did he not see his wife torn apart in grief, isolated in her bedroom? Did he not care?
Where was the man she’d married? Who was this man she saw now? What changed?
Discarding his own family… No wonder Estella and Bate detested them so.
Callan had never meant for this to happen. Callan had never meant to break her family apart. All she had ever wanted to do was help them, keep them safe. She’d wanted the best for her daughter more than anything.
How someone in their family felt about something did not matter when their livelihoods were on the line, she’d been taught. To be safe, to be healthy, it meant sacrifice. It meant being as flawless as the finest jewels. It meant being a diamond.
But being a diamond had not stopped her poor grandchildren from getting hurt. Being perfect had done nothing at all to prevent Kadren’s suffering. She’d only wanted the best for them, but the best hadn’t been enough.
Family was warmth and love, Ferric said - not diamonds. Warmth, love, and being there.
What did it say that Les, Callan’s own husband and Estella’s father, had never been there for either his child or grandchildren? What did it say that Callan had never tried to be there either, up until just a few short years ago when Kadren and Emma were born?
She could not imagine what Ferric would think of her, seeing her now.
Les was but a stranger to her, and she was but a stranger to the only family she had left. What did she do now? What could she do?
She did not know. The more time passed, the less she became able to bear it. She had not ever, ever wanted this. She had not ever meant for this. She’d have taken it all back if she could.
What did she do?
Ferric…
Had he not been there for her? The way he spoke family ought to be? Despite their parents, despite whatever it was their society demanded of them, he’d always been there to make her happy.
He’d sacrificed himself for it, Callan often thought. To be the next head of their family, it required sacrifice, and perfection. He had been perfect, she thought, not because he desired it - NOVA knew he did not - but, perhaps so she herself would not have to be. So she could be happy. It seemed like the only sound reason he did not otherwise do what Estella had done and left.
Callan had devoted herself to their family in his memory, for his sake. Become a diamond, out of love, out of desire for her family’s security. As he sacrificed, so she would too, so her family would be safe.
But
Ferric had sacrificed himself - to make her happy.
Had Callan ever done that? Sacrificed herself to make Estella happy?
No. She had not.
(Personal preference was a luxury no Bijou could afford, her parents said.)
Callan had never been there in the way that truly mattered. Had never thought she could be there.
But she has been wrong about many things in life, she knows by now, and if Ferric had managed to be there for her, to make her happy, despite everything…
Who was to say she could not?
Was that not what he had wished for her? To be there, for their family? Properly?
The thought of going back… It sounds too good to be true after everything that has happened already. Utterly foolish, it is.
But still - the idea would not leave Callan’s head, now that it was there. Because the fact was that she could not bear this anymore.
She did not want to be apart from her family. They were all she had and they were everything to her. If she could undo what had been done, she would. If she could make up for everything she’d lost, everything she’d ruined, she would - and she had so very much to make up for.
Diamonds and gemstones were just rocks. The finery that surrounded her meant nothing compared to the family she’d lost, and she would happily give it all up if it meant seeing them again.
It’s probably far too late, she knows. After so many chances given and squandered, Estella did not wish to see her again and neither did Bate. But even in spite of that, Callan still wanted to try. She wanted to make up for lost time, to be there in the way she never had been, even if all it amounted to was begging for forgiveness at their unresponsive door.
Callan had not ever been there for her family in the way that she should have been.
But perhaps, if her family were so willing–
–She still could be.
-
-
-
There is beauty that surrounds Callan as far as the eye can see as she makes her steady way down the hall towards Les’ offices.
She walks gracefully, despite the heavy weight of what she carries in her hands. The suitcase swings a bit awkwardly in front of her with her steps - she has to reposition it every few moments so that it does not continuously hit her in the legs.
Callan is unused to such a labor as this, perhaps, more unused to it than she ought to be, but still, offers of assistance were refused. She had been the one to clean up her own room and she had been the one to pack her own things. She would also be the one to carry them with her.
Marble halls, beautiful, flawless, and unblemished stretch before her, set with arching, beautiful windows that allow sunlight to alight upon unblemished, polished stone floors. There is not a speck of decay, dirt, or weathering to be found, and when she left, staff would begin cleaning the floor where her feet once trod.
The massive double doors that rise to eventually greet her stand larger than life itself, carved with intricate imagery of those ocean Squids from which Les descended. The gazes of those figures meet her own with, perhaps, something like judgement - sizing up her worth.
At one time, she had admired such intricate detail, distant though her interest was. Now, it feels like staring at little more than a slab of wood.
Callan steps forward and pushes the door open.
Les’ office is a continuation of the estate around which it was built. The ceiling arcs high, marble surrounds them. Portraits, books, trophy things, work materials, these decorate his space with organized finesse, all clean, all polished, diligently upkept. Callan steps forward and stares at her husband settled behind his desk.
He’s a cutting figure that strikes a great contrast surrounded by his precious and luxurious things. Rugged, rough-skinned, a pipe that rests idly in his mouth as he stares down at some agreement proposal or other, Callan could remember the first time she had laid eyes upon him.
He had been chivalrous then. Charming, proud, always there for her. He had saved Estella’s life at the risk of his own and still bore scars to prove it.
Now he won’t even look at her.
Callan drops her suitcase to the floor. The sound echoes with a loud bang.
Only then does Les look up. Steely eyes meet her own, his expression unreadable. Callan wonders how she must look in his gaze, and then decides she does not care. She returns his expression in kind.
“I,” She states, “am leaving.”
Les raises his eyebrow. He places his pen down and reaches up to draw his pipe from his mouth, letting out a slow breath of smoke that dissipates before he responds. “I don’t recall you having a business trip scheduled. Very well. When will you be returning?”
“I will not.”
He stares. The office is silent.
“I cannot do this anymore,” Callan says, finally. How her voice does not tremble, she does not know - she has certainly spent more than enough time crying about it. “It has been six months since we last heard from our daughter. Six months. How can you bear to sit there and act like nothing ever happened?”
Les twitches, barely. Callan watches as he picks up his pen and looks back down at his work, avoiding her, avoiding all mention of his family.
“Rather abrupt time to be having this conversation, isn’t it? Let’s talk about this another time, Callan. Go back to your quarters and later we can–”
“I will not!”
Her voice raises. Callan looks at her husband and feels the tremble of growing tension within her limbs, restrained and ice-cold.
The fury she has felt, the indignation at the unfairness of it all, the bile of disgust– all of it rises within her, clamoring for a way out. When was the last time she’d ever felt this way?
(Six months ago, in Estella’s kitchen. Les had been the cause of her ire then as well.)
“Lester Carlyle Calder, I am done. I refuse to go along with your foolish behavior. I will not be apart from my family any longer.”
Les pauses, his pen just shy of hitting the paper. When he looks back up, what Callan sees is less than pleasant.
He stands in one smooth motion. His chair is pushed away without ceremony and the sound of his footsteps are heavy on the floor as he makes his way around his desk to finally come and meet his wife head-on.
It is unlike Callan to stand up to her husband in this way. But she has done it before, and she will do it again, and so when he glares at her, she glares back with vehemency. “You,” Les grits out, “are willing to throw your entire life away. Everything we’ve worked for, everything we’ve built. Our business, our wealth. Our marriage. For them? Stop speaking nonsense, Callan. NOVA knows how long you’ve spent locked in that room of yours.”
“I am not throwing anything away, Les,” Callan retaliates, “Listen to yourself - speaking about our own daughter, our grandchildren, as if they were–were…worthless commodities! Do not speak to me about throwing something away when you’ve already thrown aside our family as if they were nothing.”
“I have not thrown them away, Callan. I care about Ellie and Emma as much as you do.” He huffs, mindless of the way Callan’s eyes go wide. “I have far more patience to deal with her choices than you realize. When she comes back–”
“She’s not coming back!”
The shriek that leaves Callan is unrecognizable.
The tension in her, the anger, the disgust, the grief of years upon years, all of it cracks and shatters like a stone into dust. Callan speaks and her words feel as if broken shards, chipped and ugly and sharp, and she lets it all tumble out without one single care of how it sounds. “She hasn’t called, she hasn’t texted, she has not written! It has been six months and not a word! Don’t you see? Our Estella doesn’t need us anymore! She hasn’t needed us for a long time! She’s found her happiness without us!”
Les freezes.
“We left her alone when she needed us. We forced her into this– this role that she did not ask for, this image of perfection that has done nothing except leave us all broken, hurting, and miserable! Why would she ever want to come back when all we ever tried to do was break her. Why, Les.”
Imperfect and trembling, Callan reaches down and grabs her suitcase, yanking it up with incredibly unladylike force, aggression she does not recognize. She does not care.
She looks at her husband who stares with a slackened, unreadable expression on his face. “I have made many mistakes in my life, Les. I once thought that I and my family had to sacrifice ourselves for the sake of our livelihoods. I thought we had no other choice. I can tell you now– I was wrong.
“I will not repeat my mistakes again. I will not continue this cold, ruthless cycle of perfection built and perpetuated by my ancestors. Not for wealth, or status, or whatever else it is these high-society pick-pockets so boast about. Estella, Bate, Kadren and Emma are my family no matter who they are, and I will not lose them.”
Her hands squeeze the handle of her suitcase.
“I am going to Kalmari Town and I am going to beg for Estella and Bate’s forgiveness. I can only hope and pray to NOVA that they find it in their hearts to grant me the grace of one more chance. I certainly do not deserve it.”
Callan looks around, at the office around her, at the beauty that has surrounded her nearly all her life. She looks at her husband who gazes upon her, unreadable and unrecognizable both. He stands there without a word and Callan cannot find it in herself to care what he’s thinking. She is far beyond that now.
“Please, think about your family, Les. They are everything. Far, far more than all of…this, that surrounds us. Do you truly not think so? Please, come with me. Your daughter needs you. Your grandchildren need you. Things can change if you find it in yourself to try.”
She doesn’t expect him to respond. After all this time begging him to open his heart to a family that he had never accepted as his own, all this time witnessing just how abhorrent he could truly be, there was no hope ever expecting him to change. Not now, perhaps not ever.
Frozen to the spot, surrounded by the finery and success that he and their ancestors have built, Les does not move.
Of course not. Whoever this is, it is not her husband.
Perhaps it never had been.
“Very well.” Callan says. “Goodbye, Les.”
With nothing but her suitcase and her own will, Callan departs, leaving her home of marble and beauty behind her.
-
Once upon a time, Callan had been a beautiful jewel, one that shined brighter and more beautifully than any other. Those high-society vultures, eager for a piece of her status, her wealth, had all known her over the years as a pinnacle of success.
She had shined, and gleamed, and sparkled, as flawless and beautiful and brilliant as a perfect, flawless diamond– and in the end, she lost everything she ever had.
Now, Callan was as chipped as the rest of them. Chipped, cracked, flawed, broken, worthless, what have you, she no longer cared. Not anymore.
Ferric lingers in her mind, a sacrifice that had not been necessary, a warm presence that had always held her when she cried. Happiness… Money could not buy that. Diamonds could not equal it.
The happiness and love of one’s family was worth far more than any diamond ever could be. It had taken her far, far too long to realize that.
Standing there at the door of Estella and Bate’s home, with nothing but a small suitcase in hand–
–She swears, she will not lose her way again.
Callan takes a deep breath, reaches out her hand, and knocks.
-The End-
Artist Comment:
December 3, 2025
-----------------
If you figured it out before I posted this, then huzzah for you- you're amazing!!
Ferric is the older brother of Callan! He was the original heir to the Bijou family fortune and legacy. Unfortunately, he passed away due to a muscular illness, and Callan had to fill his roll to be next in line. He was the only one who taught Callan that family, bonds and love is the most important thing in the world. No amount of riches, or diamonds could ever compare to the love and warmth of family. After almost losing everything that matters close to her, Callan leaves her home in the city, and goes to Kalmari Town. And, if you read the other stories I posted in the past, she's happily part of Kade, and Emma's life! =D Her relationship with Ellie is slowly healing, and she's learned to accept and appreciate Bate into her life. Also, after the separation, Callan now uses her maiden name- Bijou, in the future. ovo Callan still has her riches, so she uses it to spoil her grandbabies....in moderation per Bate and Ellie's request.
For ref- this story takes place after this story here, (Where Kade almost dies when Les leaves him outside to tend to Emma) but before this story here (Where Callan lives with Bate and Ellie after the separation)
FYI, Ferric would've been best Uncle for little Ellie.- allowing her to play with the family diamonds, or sneaking out late at night to look at the stars. He would've been the best role model for her. ;v;;;;
So! What happens to Les?? Les will eventually get a continuation, I've drabbled about it during my little hiatus, so I'd like to flesh it out a bit more. But he will eventually return, and have his story posted. For now, I think it's time to work on some comic pages, yeah? =D Thanks for waiting!
--
The AMAZING literature written for this illustration was commissioned by my good friend, Dogblog. (dA- Shadowrealmprincess) ^v^ Thank you soooo much for your hard work like always! For minor characters like Callan, Les and Ferric, it's nice to know I have someone who puts so much love and effort into my lore and character building! It's much appreciated. ;v;;;
December 3, 2025
-----------------
If you figured it out before I posted this, then huzzah for you- you're amazing!!
Ferric is the older brother of Callan! He was the original heir to the Bijou family fortune and legacy. Unfortunately, he passed away due to a muscular illness, and Callan had to fill his roll to be next in line. He was the only one who taught Callan that family, bonds and love is the most important thing in the world. No amount of riches, or diamonds could ever compare to the love and warmth of family. After almost losing everything that matters close to her, Callan leaves her home in the city, and goes to Kalmari Town. And, if you read the other stories I posted in the past, she's happily part of Kade, and Emma's life! =D Her relationship with Ellie is slowly healing, and she's learned to accept and appreciate Bate into her life. Also, after the separation, Callan now uses her maiden name- Bijou, in the future. ovo Callan still has her riches, so she uses it to spoil her grandbabies....in moderation per Bate and Ellie's request.
For ref- this story takes place after this story here, (Where Kade almost dies when Les leaves him outside to tend to Emma) but before this story here (Where Callan lives with Bate and Ellie after the separation)
FYI, Ferric would've been best Uncle for little Ellie.- allowing her to play with the family diamonds, or sneaking out late at night to look at the stars. He would've been the best role model for her. ;v;;;;
So! What happens to Les?? Les will eventually get a continuation, I've drabbled about it during my little hiatus, so I'd like to flesh it out a bit more. But he will eventually return, and have his story posted. For now, I think it's time to work on some comic pages, yeah? =D Thanks for waiting!
--
The AMAZING literature written for this illustration was commissioned by my good friend, Dogblog. (dA- Shadowrealmprincess) ^v^ Thank you soooo much for your hard work like always! For minor characters like Callan, Les and Ferric, it's nice to know I have someone who puts so much love and effort into my lore and character building! It's much appreciated. ;v;;;
Species © Nintendo/ HAL Laboratory
Interpreted characters created from said species © Rhylem
Interpreted characters created from said species © Rhylem
