Lesser
(Les/ Callan/Kade)
(Les/ Callan/Kade)
“Is that my favorite granddaughter I see?”
On the living room floor of the Bate household, two young children look up from their coloring sheets.
At two and a half years old, Kade and Emma are still learning to remember the faces of people they haven’t seen in awhile. Repetition is a necessity at that age, their mother would say; they have to be taught and corrected over and over in order for them to understand something long-term.
The Squishy at the door is someone they almost don’t recognize. Tall, with angry looking eyes and dark gray skin and fins on his mantle and a large mustache that hides most of his expression. Maybe he’d be a scary person, too, had they not remembered him at the last second.
He only stares at them for a few seconds before his expression brightens in a big smile and he kneels with open arms. “Emma! Why, I almost didn’t recognize you! Come here, dear girl!”
This is Les, and he is their grandfather. A stalwart Squishy that used to not come around town very often, but after the birth of his grandchildren he had begun making more of an effort in order to see his family. The twins’ eyes light up - recognition, enthusiasm, affection, and with a clamoring of squeals and bird whistles they both hop up to run and greet him.
Les scoops Emma up the moment she’s in reach, laughing at the sight of her. “Why, look at you - I’ve missed you so much! Looking more and more like your mother by the day, I can hardly believe…!” He presses a peck to her mantle and she giggles at the way his mustache brushes against her.
As Les does this, Kade runs on up to him and chirps with his arms held up, and as Kade does this, another Squishy emerges from behind Les. This one is orange, with softer eyes and a softer face and shiny things adorning her arms and fins, and as Kade looks over at her, she gasps.
“Kadren! Oh, there you are!”
Callan is the grandmother of the family. In a lot of ways her husband’s opposite, she’s a much more expressive and open sort than Les is. It would be impossible for the twins not to recognize her for how much she looks like their mother, and Kade immediately diverts course to go chirping into her waiting arms when he sees her. “Hello, my little dear! My, have your wings grown a few inches since I last saw them? Oh, we really do need to visit more often…!”
Kade giggles at the kiss that gets pressed to the top of his head. His laugh comes out as a peep, a rapid chip-chip-chip that makes Les raise his eyebrow.
“Ellie,” He says, vaguely exasperated, “Is that boy still chirping? I thought he’d have learned some words by now. How are we going to understand what he needs while you’re gone?”
Ellie, for her part, tries not to roll her eyes beside them. “Dad, learning more than one language takes time. Lots of kids don’t speak ‘til they’re four, you know. He’ll get the hang of it! Won’t you, jellybean?”
Kade shuffles in Callan’s arms. She has to adjust her grip so he doesn’t end up slipping out, but holding a toddler takes a bit more effort than holding a little baby. Little arms reach out for his mother as he makes a whistling noise in his throat and Ellie brings him right over with a coo.
“See there?” She says, “He can understand you just fine, even if he can’t quite say the words yet. If he wants to show you something, he’ll lead you right to it!” Hopefully. Toddlers don’t always have great judgment. It’d be fine.
Truth be told, Bate and Ellie hadn’t been quite so sure about letting the grandparents babysit when Callan had called ahead and asked about a week ago. The children were still young, and they hadn’t let anyone babysit before. They also didn’t really have the best history with Ellie’s parents, which was its own issue. It’d have been better to let the neighbors watch them, if anything.
But Les and Callan seemed willing to do anything to see Ellie’s children, even if it meant setting aside their old ire for Ellie’s husband. A few years ago, they wouldn’t have stepped within miles of Kalmari beyond the socially obligated Squidmas visit. Now, they showed up a lot more than they used to, and they were much less frosty than they had been. They adored the kids, clearly, and the kids adored them right back. Bate himself couldn’t remember the last time he got on with them this well.
And, well. Les and Callan were the only living grandparents they had. If they were clearly making an effort, then his children deserved the chance to have that chance to know their family.
Still didn’t make it any less nerve-wracking to prepare for it, though.
“Now, I have food ready, lunch and dinner are in the fridge, and there’s fruit and some cheese snacks if they get hungry between meals. Try to have them in bed by seven but I won’t blame you if they put up a fuss and end up going to bed later!” Ellie rattles all of this off to her mother as though she had rehearsed the entire thing, knowing her to listen more to what she was saying than her father who was preoccupied with a child tugging at his facial hair. “Call if you have any questions, okay? Any at all!”
“Oh, come now, Estella, we’ll be just fine,” Callan titters. “Don’t worry about a thing! Go and enjoy yourselves! You two deserve a break and I am terribly eager to begin spoiling my grandchildren in your absence.”
As the two trade words, Bate makes his way over from the kitchen, giving Ellie a nod as he comes closer. His attention skims down toward their son in her arms, who sees him and chirps - a word for attention, something only Bate knows although Ellie has been learning.
“You be good now, okay?” He says, taking the boy into his arms and giving him a gentle hug. “No trying to fly off of the kitchen table like you did two days ago…!”
“Bwuah!”
Bate looks over. Emma has thus far been mostly preoccupied by her grandfather’s mustache, though she pauses when she turns and sees her father coming over. Bate can’t help chuckling as he takes her into his free arm and presses a kiss to her mantle. “You too, Emma. Be good, don’t give your grandparents a hard time!”
Emma giggles, most of the words probably passing through one ear and out the other. It’s the thought that counts.
It’s a little hard for him to hand them to their grandparents when everyone says their goodbyes and it’s time for him and Ellie to head out the door. The children had been told over and over that their grandma and grandpa would be coming to see them, and that they’d be staying with them for a little bit while mom and dad were away. They’d prepared as much as they could for this to go smoothly.
But anything could happen. Kade and Emma were just toddlers and toddlers were unpredictable. Who knows what could go wrong. If something happened and he wasn’t there…
“Bate.”
Standing frozen on the steps leading to his house, Bate glances over. Ellie, beside him, puts a hand on his arm with a warm look. “Everything will be alright.”
He hesitates, looking off towards the road leading into town.
The kids are at a rowdy age. They’re always getting into trouble, and he’s had to watch them vigilantly to make sure nobody gets hurt for the past two years.
Maybe he’s just been so focused on keeping them out of trouble that being able to unwind without anyone to look after isn’t something he’s used to anymore.
“...Yeah, I think you’re right.”
It isn’t often that either of them get to have time to themselves these days. It’d be nice to have a little break for once.
Callan gives one final departing wave to the couple from the threshold of the doorway before she finally clicks the door shut. Kade, in her arms, squirms to be let down with a peep, and though she is perhaps a smidge disappointed to let him go, she does so with no fuss.
“Just us now, little ones!” She declares, “My, now that we’re here, I’m hardly sure where to start…!”
What should they do, she wonders? What game should they play? Should they go for a walk? What did young children prefer? Callan isn’t sure, but she is bound and determined to make the most of it. She knows she is incredibly lucky to be here and does not want to waste it.
It is still truly a miracle that Estella and her husband had allowed her parents to come see the children in the first place, after all of the unfortunate events of the past however many years. Callan can still hardly believe she’s here, honestly.
Beliefs? They were both quite different. Differences? Well, they certainly had them, and that was hardly likely to change. The younger generation was of a type she might never understand.
But she was graceful enough to put that to the side if it meant seeing her grandchildren. What had she been so fussy about anyway, to be aghast as she once was at Bate’s appearance? Little Kadren looked just like him and she could only adore his squishy cheeks and his tiny wings.
“Callan, come look here, would you? You should see Emma’s markings; why, she looks like a spitting image of you!”
Les, on the other hand…
Callan’s attention is drawn over to her husband. Held in one arm, a calloused gray hand traces over the top of Emma’s mantle where a splash of pale orange clashes against the rest of her saffron coloring. “And look,” He beams, “her feet have it as well! A bit of a rarity, isn’t it? Lucky girl.”
A spitting image of Callan is rather an apt statement. Although her own markings are far more symmetrical and refined, Emma looks not one bit different from herself, barring her violet eyes and lack of fins. Callan steps over to take a closer look, nodding with a hum when she catches the details. “Yes, yes. I’m sure Estella is quite proud that her child looks so much like herself.”
Though perhaps not quite as proud as Les himself is.
Callan had dearly hoped that his…sentiments would not have trickled down to his own grandchildren. One could hardly call Kadren an outsider when his mother was a Squishy, surely.
Alas, old men were set in their ways and such had not been the case.
One could not help how one felt, she supposed. He treated both children with decency and was hardly as vitriolic as he’d once been. If only he weren’t so obvious about his preference sometimes, which brought her annoyance to no end.
As Les totes Emma off to the couch in the living room, Callan takes a glance around her. Kadren is no longer in sight, and this makes a shiver of uncertainty settle awkwardly within her. You do not leave a young child unsupervised, and here she was already making mistakes.
“Kadren?” Callan calls, “Have you wandered off? Come here, dear!”
Thankfully, her worries appear unfounded. She hears a tiny pitter of feet on the floor just a moment before she sees Kadren’s little form round the corner, running towards her in a most adorable fashion. He chirps, a greeting, she’s sure.
“There you are!” She beams. “You had me a bit worried, dear! Come, why don’t we go to the living room? Your grandparents brought presents for you!”
It’s a tradition that Les and she must bring a present every time they visit, and perhaps one other reason why the twins remember them so well. Kadren beams at the word - presents - and Callan chuckles as she takes his hand, walking with him to the living room couch where Les is already seated with Emma on the floor.
“Now, let’s see–” As Callan takes her place at her husband’s side, she leans over the side of the couch with a mutter and pulls out the gift she’d brought. It’s a professionally wrapped round little thing and she watches as Kadren goes to completely tear the paper up for the prize inside. “What do you think, dear?”
In Kadren’s hands is a teal blue ball, just small enough for both he and Emma to bounce around without issue. When he squeezes, the ball barely budges in his grasp, and he holds it up with a whistle. “I’m glad you like it, Kadren! I had it custom-made, you know- a bit of North Novan leather in there will keep it quite durable!”
She watches as Kadren coos and chirps over it, squeezing and bouncing it in his hands and hugging it close for reasons only a toddler could name. There’s a big, bright little smile on his face and Callan feels herself light up at a job well done for how much he likes it.
She’s quite proud of herself, personally, for how the little toy came out and for having such forethought about its durability. It would certainly withstand whatever it was toddlers got up to; both he and Emma would love it.
Speaking of, Callan turns her gaze to check on her granddaughter while her grandson is preoccupied.
…Hm.
She does not remember Les bringing that present in.
On the floor in Emma’s arms is a brightly colored box of clay dough and molding kits. The first thing she notices about it is that it’s large. It practically dwarfs her grandchild in size, too big for Emma to even reach the top of, let alone hold. Callan sees why; every surface of the box is a litany of colorful images showcasing a massive variety of clay dough, molds, and plastic utensils, too many for Callan to count. On the front, advertised in high-definition detail, she sees what appears to be some sort of play oven, the focal point of the package shown with its many different functions and uses for play.
Callan immediately thinks that this play set is out of the children’s age range. Many of them look like choking hazards, more suitable for a child of three or perhaps four under adult supervision. When she looks closer, she finds that her suspicions are not without merit either; there is a clearly noted 3+ in big, bubbly font on the corner of the box.
Callan watches, gobsmacked and silent, as Emma tries valiantly to open the thing with no success. Beside her, Callan hears a fond chuckle. “Do you need help there? Here, let’s see what your grandfather can do.”
Les stands and redirects Emma towards the coffee table to help her set everything up, and as he does, Callan glances down towards Kadren with a pinch of something cold in her stomach. He’s staring, she sees, watching the way his sister gets handed an open tub of blue clay when the box is opened up.
She sees him glance down at the ball in his hands, his expression considering. When he looks back up, it’s just in time to see Emma being handed a star-shaped cookie cutter.
Unceremoniously, Kadren drops his toy and goes to join his sister.
The whole thing leaves Callan mystified. She watches, wordlessly, as little Kadren takes a seat at the coffee table and little Emma hands him the star-shaped cutter in her hand. Both of them seem happy.
She knows that this display is inconsequential in the grand course of things. Emma and Kadren are playing together and having a good time, and that’s the important part. But still, she can’t help but feel a little…disquieted.
Quietly, so as not to disturb the children, Callan moves over to join them, sitting beside Kadren and reaching over to help him with a stubborn tub of clay that won’t pop open. She holds her peace long enough to help them finish setting everything up, saying not a word to her husband and letting him enjoy himself.
They play together for a little bit when the twins finally have it all situated. Eventually, though, she and Les take their leave to once more settle on the couch to watch them play. Callan surreptitiously tucks the smaller plastic utensils back into the box as she goes.
Without looking at her husband, she asks him with an air of civility, “You did tell Kadren that the gift belonged to him and Emma both, yes? To share? Like the ball we purchased?”
“Hmh.” A no, then.
“I’d not want him thinking the gift was for Emma alone, yes?”
“Come now, Callan, I don’t see what the fuss is about. Look at him, he’s quite happy. Everything’s fine.”
Callan feels her eye twitch. She takes a slow, measured breath so as not to do something unseemly.
It was fine. It would be fine. The size of a toy did not equate its value and the children were indeed happy and none the wiser.
It would not do to ruin a good day over one measly little incident. If the children were unbothered, then Callan would endeavor to keep her good graces as well. She wanted this day to go smoothly and was determined to make it so.
Fortunately for her, the next few hours end up being quite uneventful barring what she assumes is the characteristic toddler drama. She admits that she is rather unprepared for just how…attentive she has to be.
The twins are absolute darlings, to be sure, but Callan finds that she often has to keep after them to make sure neither of them are out of sight. If they wanted to play, it had to be in the living room. If they wanted their bedroom toys, they’d have to bring them out here. No running in the kitchen, dears. No climbing the shelf for that box! Callan finds herself quite embarrassed when young Emma cries over it.
It’s more than she’s used to doing in her older age. Though she loves them and certainly doesn’t regret babysitting, by the time lunch has arrived she is more than a little worn out and is eager for a small break. Therefore, she hastens through the kitchen to prepare what her daughter has made.
“Les,” Callan calls back, “Can you bring the children from their room? It’s time for them to eat!”
Bring the children he does, toting Emma into the kitchen on one arm while Kadren wanders in behind him with an insistent chirp. “Yes, you’re hungry,” She hears Les say to the boy as he puts Emma in her high chair, “You’ll get your turn in a moment.”
Callan wonders to remark on it - but then Kadren is placed into his high chair and immediately takes to devouring his chicken nuggets, so she supposes Les must not have been wrong about that.
Children settled, both content, Callan is only too happy to let herself go laze on the couch for a much-needed rest. “Keep an eye on them, would you,” She sighs. “I believe I’ve overspent myself these past two hours.”
Les grunts beside her, an affirmative without words. She’s thankful for it as well, because everything in her buzzes with fatigue. Manual activity and running around were Les’ strong suit, certainly not Callan’s.
She’d only intended on resting for a short little while when she’d leaned back and closed her eyes. Being able to just… sit down without having to pay much attention to anything simply felt so nice that, when the lull of exhaustion reached her, she found it difficult to resist slipping under.
Les would be fine. He had things handled and would wake her up when the time came.
…
Les did not have things handled and did not wake her up.
Callan’s eyes, instead, snap open to the sound of a wail.
She has no clue what time it is or even where she’s at. Her heart pounds in her chest with a terrible fright and she sits ramrod straight, looking around frantically with wide, terrified eyes.
“I– Kadren? Emma? Children, where–”
The crying comes from the kitchen; she does not hesitate. All exhaustion forgotten, running on adrenaline, Callan moves faster than she has in years and will surely feel it later.
What had happened? What was wrong? Had Les not been watching them? All of these questions run through her mind as half-thoughts feeding on the dredges of sleep, half-aware and disoriented. They couldn’t have gotten in trouble the second her guard was lowered. Surely.
She expects…she isn’t sure, actually. Something terrible, to be sure. Such a cry could mean nothing but.
But all she sees when she gets there is two children in their seats, empty plates in front of them, and her husband holding a cookie just out of the reach of a crying Kadren’s outstretched grasp.
Callan sees red.
“What are you doing!”
Les jumps as though burnt. There was hardly a thing that could frighten him so, and to see the way his expression pales at the sight of his wife only tells her just how much he knows he’s messed up.
“Callan, hold on–”
“What are you thinking? Are you daft?”
“I was just–”
“That is your grandson. That is a toddler! Have you no shame!”
Callan feels like a rubber band pulled taut, ready to snap at any second. She can’t stop shaking. She has to concentrate to even breathe, and it takes everything in her not to do something woefully rash.
In all her years, she never thought Les would have sunk so low. To hold his prejudice was one thing, but to do this…
“I was trying to get him to say please,” Les bites lowly. Callan wants to slap him.
“I don’t care what you were trying to do. This is inexcusable. Estella would have your head if she were here to see this and you know it.”
Callan marches her way over and yanks the cookie out of his hand. A tiny, furious part of her wants to outright crush the thing - but Kadren sniffles beside them, and Callan is now keenly aware that she is being watched.
She wants to yell. Wants to give Les no small amount of what-for and let him have it. Everything in her bites to be let out with great force.
Instead, she takes a slow, deep breath and gently hands the cookie over to her grandson. “Here you are, dear.”
Young children are, fortunately, often easily soothed. Though he hiccups, his crying largely abates and he takes the treat with a coo, popping it into his mouth and chewing without a care in the world.
Callan gives Les a hard look. Beneath her gaze, he shifts. “Callan,” He starts, “I–”
“Don’t,” She cuts, and is quite glad her voice comes out rather calm, “go and ‘Callan’ me, Les. You know better. I’m only not giving you an earful right now because children are present and I, for one, would actually like to enjoy this day with my grandchildren. But so help me, if your attitude makes Kadren cry again, Estella will hear about this.”
The warning hangs thick in the air, heavy with the promise in her words. They both knew she would do it, if push came to shove, and they both knew that it would not be pretty.
Les says nothing.
“Now,” Callan huffs, “Why don’t you take their ball from the living room and go outside while I clean them up and get things finished here? We will be out shortly.” And maybe some fresh air would help Les come to his senses, but that remains unspoken.
As her husband takes his leave and grumbles under his breath, Callan looks between the two children who look right back at her with big, curious eyes. They both look so innocent, far too sweet to have to deal with any of this, and she has to swallow back a great, exhausted sigh.
This was supposed to have been a nice day.
“Let’s get you two cleaned up, yes?” She says. “I believe you both are overdue for some sunshine right about now…!”
And after these past few hours, Callan thinks she is due for some air too.
…
Now, if one had to ask, Callan was the kind of woman who much preferred the convenience of city life. It was one reason she hadn’t deigned to come visit Kalmari as often as she should have. All family drama aside, the fact remained that Kalmari was, in her opinion, just…a little bit boring. Though she’d never have said that out loud.
She often thought that she couldn’t see why Estella would choose to live here when she’d had everything she could ever need back home. Moving out where there was nothing to do simply made no sense.
She did have to admit, though - standing out here, she might be beginning to understand a little bit.
Callan stands at the threshold of Estella’s backdoor and breathes in the fresh air, feeling the breeze brush against her face and toy at the jewelry hanging from her fins.
In front of her, the land opens wide, untethered and unbound by any walls or boundary lines. It is a veritable little meadow that stretches on into the forest a ways ahead, blanketed in green grass and the rainbow hues of flowering plants and other such foliage, kept tidy just enough to keep the children safe as they play.
With no indoor rules or walls to keep them restrained, the little ones are free to be as rowdy as they please and certainly they act it. Kadren and Emma shriek and yell louder than Callan has ever heard as they chase after their new ball, a chorus of laughter and half-made words and whistling chirps echoing between them as the toy is kicked and thrown every which way. Of course, there is no fencing to keep them separated from the rest of the world, and Callan does not care for it at all. But, if nothing else, Les is a warrior at heart; he would catch them quickly.
She glances at him from the corner of her eye.
Settled on a bench placed against the back wall of the house, her husband watches the children diligently with an expression on his face that Callan can’t read. One hand pulls idly at the end of his mustache in the absence of his pipe, a motion that tells her he’s deep in thought. He’s not said a word since the incident from earlier, and Callan has not said anything to invite him to.
She ponders on if he’s wondering what to say. Whether he’s thinking of an apology or an excuse.
It’s a shame that she even has to ask herself that.
The silence stretches between them with the weight of a tension that, thankfully, goes unnoticed by the children a ways away. Both of them are as still as statues, neither one willing to move and disturb the peace. How long this goes on, Callan does not know.
Eventually, from beside her, she hears a great sigh.
“They are both our grandchildren. Things…could have been handled better.”
He’s not looking at her, still. His expression remains difficult to read.
She doesn’t say anything. And when she remains silent, he finally lets out a breath. “It won’t happen again.”
It’s about as good an apology as she’s going to get.
Callan watches the children for a few more moments, listening to the sounds of their laughter and watching how they tumble in the grass. Blissfully unaware and blissfully happy. They would probably be parched by the time they wore themselves out.
“I believe,” She says steadily, “I am going to get the little ones something to drink.”
And then she retreats further into the house, a tad too hastily. It feels a bit like running away.
The kitchen is the same as when she had left it earlier, tidied up from the kids’ lunch and without a hair out of place. Compared to just a bit ago, it feels a little surreal to hear how quiet it is now with nobody else in the house.
The scene from before remains burnt into her eyes. It’s a terrible afterimage that appears each time she closes them and she can’t make the sight leave her no matter how she wishes to. The anger and the betrayal are there, still, buzzing somewhere under her skin. Seeing Les’ frustration, openly on his face, and his grandson openly distressed in front of him…
She finds herself pondering the nature of her husband, and at what point he changed so severely. Stubborn, prideful, perhaps not the most pleasant to get along with, but he had never been so…cruel. He had only been trying to make Kadren speak, he said, but Kadren could not. How was that fair? How much of what Les claimed was even true, knowing his favoritism ran deep?
Callan takes a breath and puts a hand to her mantle, squeezing her eyes shut against the headache she feels starting to build.
She didn’t know what to believe. What happened to the man she married so many years ago?
As Callan stands there by the kitchen sink and tries to make sense of things, she becomes distantly aware of the sound of something outside, just faint enough she almost can’t hear it. She’s not sure what it is, but to hear it from here, it must’ve been loud.
A handful of seconds later, she hears the back door slam against the wall. Her heart leaps in her throat, everything in her jumps, she whirls around with wide eyes–
The sound of Emma wailing greets her the same moment a breathless Les barrels into the kitchen, wide-eyed and wild. He holds Emma in a vice grip in his arms, and Callan almost can’t hear him over the sound of her shrieking. “Get the first aid kit. Now.”
“Dear?” Callan startles, “I–?”
“Callan, she’s hurt.”
And then she sees the blood.
Everything in her stops dead at the sight of Emma’s mantle, overlaid and smeared with a blaze of dark, viscous red that rolls down thickly towards her eyes, trailing from a wound that Callan can’t see clearly for all of the blood–
“Sweet NOVA–” She cries, “Les, what happened–?”
“The boy, his talons, what else, Callan–”
“I know, I know–”
Everything flies out the window. Callan has no other thought but for the wailing child that she is responsible for, operating on autopilot with every part of her cold with the tremors of adrenaline and terror.
She rushes for the bathroom with Les just at her side, praying it’s nothing, praying they don’t need to go to the hospital, praying that her parents forgive them. Her heart pounds with the panic in her chest and, for just a few moments, she forgets anything else exists.
Unfortunately, a few moments is all a toddler needs.
Outside, the plaza of Kalmari bustles with the onset of the afternoon crowd. Most of them are locals, with faces that are easy to recognize and names that are easy to remember. Squishies, the majority of them. But if someone looks close, they might be able to see a few out of towners.
It’s easy to watch them go by without quite seeing them, to pay attention to nothing in particular about the visitors except for the fact that they're different. It used to be that the town barely tolerated an outside presence at all. The locals didn't have a rule outright banning them, exactly, but they'd show you when you weren't welcome. The growing diversity of the community is a new thing, still; it’s nice to see that people seem to be treating the others well these days.
“How are you feeling?”
Ellie twitches and looks over.
Across the table, Bate gazes at her with a small frown on his face. “You’ve been staring out the window for some time. I don’t think you’ve even touched your food since it got here.”
She glances down at the immaculate spread of food in front of them, a collection of little dishes that look more like art than anything edible. It definitely wasn’t the usual fare, nor was coming out to a place as fancy as this for lunch, but it was a special occasion. Why not splurge a little?
He isn’t wrong, though. Her food is still as perfectly presentable as it was when it had first arrived, undisturbed and untouched. It makes a flush of embarrassment dust her cheeks - some splurge that would be if she let it go to waste - and she reaches down hastily to grab her fork. “Ahh, sorry! I must’ve gotten distracted…”
As she takes a bite and starts to focus on the meal in front of her, she can hear Bate hum thoughtfully across from her. “Is something on your mind?” He says gently. “You can always talk to me, you know that.”
Oh, she knew that well. Of everyone in Kalmari, everyone in the universe, there wasn’t a person that Ellie trusted more to talk to about whatever was in her mind. Fiercely loyal to a fault and yet so kind at the same time, he was as much an anchor for her as she was for him. She thanked NOVA all the time for what a blessing it was to have met him.
Still, she hesitates.
She just didn’t want him to worry, was all. Bate had already been uncertain enough as it was this morning when they left, and now he was having so much fun, and so was she! She didn’t want to spoil a good day just because she happened to be feeling a little off-kilter.
“Just wondering how the kids are doing,” Ellie shrugs finally. It’s casual, and she makes sure to keep her tone light as she takes another bite. “Mom and dad are probably spoiling them rotten with dessert, I can feel it.”
Bate groans with mock-dread. “Oh, you don’t have to tell me that. They’re going to be bouncing off the walls for the next week.” His face twists humorously and Ellie almost wants to laugh. “But I’m sure they’re having fun, at least. Probably more fun than we’re having, honestly; your parents love them to death.”
“Ha! You’re not wrong. Every time they visit it’s something else. A new toy, a new game, new something. Kade and Emma’s poor closet is bursting at the seams.”
“We’re going to have to go through it again soon…”
Ellie chuckles to herself in agreement, feeling the lull settle between them as they both take the time to eat. She knows that Bate has more he wants to say. She can feel it in the gentle weight of the air between them and the way he looks at her, expectant but without pressure. He can read her better than anyone else.
“Don’t worry about me,” She smiles, finally. “I’m having fun, honest, and you should too! Come on, let’s finish this up. It’d be nice to go see the beach when we’re done.”
He stares at her for a good second. Debating, probably.
And then his wings sag as he lets out a breath, the subtle tension easing out of him as he nods. “Alright. If you say so. I do wonder if the beach has changed any since we were there last, though…”
As they settle into their lunch, Ellie thinks about what he’d said. He was right; her parents adored the children. The worst she and Bate have to worry about is a sugar crash and some upset little ones thrown off of their routine for the next few days.
Everything is fine.
And yet.
She still can’t quite shake this feeling.
-----------------------
Time has a way of running from people.
It’s easy to get lost in the moment. Focus on something and forget the rest of the world exists. Time is relative and if someone pays more attention to the fun they’re having or the stress they’re feeling than the world around them, then they wouldn’t know to look up until after the sun meandered its merry way past the horizon line and the sky turned dark.
Such was the case for a lot of people. Such was especially the case for one Bate and Ellie, who were having too much fun basking in each other to notice the world change until they couldn’t see but three steps in front of them.
Although sheepish, Bate can’t find it in himself to care too much. Spending time with Ellie is the best way to spend time, and even if it runs away from him he considers it time well spent. When was the last time he got to go out to lunch with her? When was the last time they got to go for a walk on the beach? To stroll through the plaza and the town’s outskirts and to go for a flight through the height of the clouds, something they so rarely ever got to do these days?
Ellie would echo the sentiment, humming along to herself with a pleasant sort of weariness as she holds his hand and lets him help lead them both back down the way towards home. The dark casts deep shadows lit only by sidewalk lamps and the dim glimmers of houses a distance away, but despite that they traverse the path with ease borne of muscle memory. She can only be utterly content with the way the day ended, even if it ended up going on a bit longer than they meant it to.
When the two arrive home, they both make sure to stay quiet as they fiddle with their things and gently crack the door open. The children had to be asleep by then, and they didn’t need to cause a ruckus and go waking them back up.
Neither are exactly sure what to expect when they peer into their home. Bate joked on the way over that maybe it would look like a war zone. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to be the case; everything is exactly as they had left it, no stray toys anywhere and nothing they can see broken or out of place.
The only difference to the living room is the presence of Ellie’s mother, who sits on the sofa in a prim and proper position with her hands folded over her lap. She doesn’t seem to notice them for a few seconds, only startling when she hears the sound of shuffling coming from the front door.
Callan blinks several times at them, beaming quickly and sitting straighter as they both step inside. “Ah. You two have returned…!” She says pleasantly.
Ellie beams over at her. “We’re home!” She murmurs, just loud enough to be sure Callan can hear her. “Sorry we’re late. We sort of got a little distracted…”
“Oh, think nothing of it. You two deserve to have a rest. I take it you both enjoyed yourselves?”
Enjoying it was maybe an understatement. “Oh, we had so much fun! It feels like so much has changed since we were last out running around, it’s crazy how time flies…”
“That it is, my dear, certainly.”
“Though, it is nice to be home now. It’s funny; you need such a break from parenting, but the moment you have it you start missing the kids and wanting to come right back. They don’t tell you much about that in parenting books.”
“I would think not.”
“How were they? I noticed neither of you called. Did everything go okay?”
No response.
Ellie blinks. “Mom?”
Callan twitches, as if just startling back into herself. Where her eyes had sat glued to the nearby window in a glaze, now they gaze upon Ellie with some measure of surprise, and a note of something that Ellie can’t make out. “Pardon?” Callan asks. “Could you repeat that?”
Ellie stares.
Now that she’s actually paying attention, it’s hard to miss just how…still her mother seems to be. She sits so politely on the sofa that it honestly looks uncomfortable, and Ellie sees the way she squeezes her hands, so tightly they almost go pale.
Every part of her is a taut wire, riddled with tension and painfully stiff. Her shoulders sit hiked up and she almost doesn’t look like she’s even breathing. Callan stares at her and Ellie can’t help but notice just how red her eyes are.
She feels something cold crawl down her spine.
Ellie opens her mouth, her brow furrowing-
“Callan, I searched the forest all over, I can’t find him–”
And then
everything sort of
Stops.
…
“What?”
Ellie stares.
Les is there now. From outside. He looks panicked. She thinks it's such a strange thing to see, when her father is ordinarily so fearless.
She doesn't understand what he means.
“What?”
Neither of her parents will say anything. Neither of them will move. She doesn't understand why. Everything had been going so well. Right?
Right?
Les glances down the hall.
Surely not.
Surely not, Ellie thinks. Surely not, she thinks as she pushes Bate aside and makes her way down the hall. Surely not, she thinks as she grabs the door to her children's room and swings it open loud enough that she hears her daughter startle awake in her bed.
Surely not surely not surely not
Ellie steps over and yanks back the blankets of Kade's bed.
-----------------------------
In the living room, Bate listens to the grandparents stutter and stammer and talk through a haze.
They tell him in breathless mutters. They had looked away for just a second. Only a second. That they had looked everywhere, Les had done everything he could, but Emma had gotten hurt, a little accident while they were playing outside, and they had only looked away for one second.
Everything they say goes through one ear and out the other. Everything in his body feels both numb and inhumanly weightless.
They left Kade alone. A toddler alone outside. When? How long ago? How could they? Why didn’t they call him? Why didn’t they say anything?
He thinks he’s shaking, but he can’t be sure. He thinks he smells the ozone of lightning, but he isn’t certain. The loom of his wings and the breadth of his talons cast heavy shadows over Les and Callan’s forms and neither of them can do anything but shrink back and duck their heads and pray they don’t die.
Memories float by. The insults spoken under their breath over his bestial form, the refusal to look at him. Old and set in their ways. Kade was his father’s son and why would his grandparents ever think otherwise just because of shared blood.
Why is he still standing here, Bate wonders. Why, when none of it matters, because Kade is still out there, and another second standing there is another second that Kade could die.
And he is not going to let that happen.
As Ellie runs frantically back into the main living area, as she shouts words to her parents that pass him in a blur, as Emma’s cries of confusion echo through the whole house, Bate turns. Heedless of all present, he steps towards the front door.
“I’m going to find my son.”
He’s out before anyone has a chance to say anything. Even if they did, he wouldn’t have heard.
The night air greets him with the weight of an oncoming storm, rumbling faintly in the distance. As he spreads his wings wide - a sight to behold, like a Demon Beast ready to take off - he can feel the burgeoning of thunder clouds beginning to roll through, impossible to miss no matter how pitch black it is.
Bate takes off in one mighty sweep, a powerful flap that sets him alight into the air and another beat of his wings that shoots him off like a rocket. Again, and again, flying higher and higher until he blends into the ichor black clouds above as though they were old friends.
Everything in him trembles. Every part of his nerves buzz with the restraint of someone barely keeping it together by a single thread. Something in him cracks at the realization of all his worries and all his fears, a gut feeling proven right after two and a half years trying so hard to ignore it.
It all festers. Crawls up to the surface in a boiling pit of too many emotions to name. Anger, despair, fear and panic - guilt.
The wind stings at his face without mercy or care.
Bate opens his mouth and screams.
Lightning cracks across the sky and screams right along with him.
-----------------------------
Somewhere, hidden away, a young child jerks violently awake to the sound of a thunderclap.
He doesn’t know where he is.
Something presses against him. Scraping against his hands and wings, pressing into his belly and feet, something surrounds him all over, threatening to smother him. He doesn’t know what it is. He can’t see it.
He can’t see anything.
He swings his arms and legs and wings every which way in a blind panic as he lets out a muffled cry. It hurts to move; something scrapes his hands, something falls on his back, something catches on his wings. Everything presses against him and he fights with all the strength he can muster, driven by terror and the panicked desperation to survive.
In the depths of a pitch black forest, so dark that it’s impossible to see anything, flurries of movement abound amidst the great roots of a mighty tree. Among the quiet sounds of nature, there is a shuffle as dirt shifts and gets shoved aside. The trees stand and watch as the entrance of an old, long abandoned burrow prepares to collapse in on itself.
And then Kade scrambles free with a cry, popping frantically into a world that he doesn’t recognize.
He stumbles across the ground with a weak chirp in his throat, catching on the detritus beneath him and tripping over fallen tree branches and rocks. His arms flail out, hands grasping blindly for anything he can reach. Nevertheless, he falls.
Groggy, panicked eyes glance at the world all around as little lungs take deep, frantic breaths of humid, stormy air. Everywhere, unseen, the forest of Kalmari stretches on in an impenetrable obsidian thicket, reaching into the overcast sky through which only the faintest glimmer of moonlight peeks through.
It’s dark.
He doesn't know where he is.
He’s scared.
Kade had wanted to see his parents. They had left and he missed them a lot. He also had not wanted to stay home, though, because he kept making his grandfather mad, and his grandfather was scary when he was mad. His grandfather doesn’t like him.
He doesn’t like his grandfather either.
Kalmari forest is nice. He likes it a lot. It’s always so green, and bright, and noisy, full of lots of different kinds of birds and chirping, and his brother lives there too. The family goes on walks through the forest often and Kade loves to play in the brush with his sister. There’s no reason not to wander off that way to see his parents, in his little head.
But he’d wandered for a very, very long time. So long, in fact, that he’d gotten tired of wandering and went to take a nap.
Now he doesn’t know where he is.
Kade stands there, shivering, surrounded by the dark and unable to see anything at all, not even himself. Tears sting at little wide eyes as his heart pitter-patters fast in his chest. Every part of him is locked up, too afraid to make any noise and too afraid to move, because if he does, something will get him.
He’s hungry. He’s tired. He hurts all over and he doesn’t like it at all.
He’s scared. He wants his parents.
He wants to go home.
Thunder cracks.
It’s louder than anything this child has ever heard. It’s louder than anything anyone this side of West Nova has ever heard.
The force of it is ungodly - it rips through the world like it’s a living thing, ramming against the trees with violent fury and deafening the fearful woodland creatures into punished silence. All the force of a divine god’s rage rattles Kade right down to the bone, and for a second he forgets he even exists.
Everything hurts. His ears, his teeth, everything. The air leaves his lungs violently and he can’t breathe. His stomach hurts and he wants to be sick.
Shivering, fighting for air, he frantically takes a winded, raspy breath–
Kade screams and bolts.
In the depths of a pitch black forest, so dark that it’s impossible to see anything, a child runs blindly on frantic, tired legs with no idea where he's going. He stumbles, tripping over tree roots and rocks and gaps in the dirt below him, and his arms flail out frantically to catch himself. Nevertheless, he falls, and it’s only through sheer adrenaline that he manages to scramble to keep going, regardless of pain or ache.
He hears a lot of things around him. He doesn’t know what any of it is. To him, it’s all one big crashing buzz, a racket of hissing and howling and snarling coming from above and beside and below. Coming from behind.
In Kade’s mind, there’s a monster chasing after him. He doesn’t know what it looks like or how close it is to reaching him, but he knows that it’s loud, and that it’s big, larger than life, larger than the whole wide world.
It’s angry.
It’s mad at him and he knows that because it yells at him when he runs. It hisses when he trips, it howls when he tries to fly away. When he chirps frantically for help, it chirps back from the trees to say please. When he falls and feels bark hit his face and wails, it drones in the sky to be quiet and Kade puts his hands over his mouth so he won’t make another noise.
He envisions a terrifying face covered in fur, and big, angry black eyes glaring at him, and a big, angry gray body that smashes everything in its way. It doesn’t like him. He’s bad. He does everything wrong and he’s bad.
Overhead, the roaring sky deafens the world. Kade puts his hands over his ears and stumbles over the empty air of a missed step.
He falls.
And the crashing waters of a ravine eagerly swallow him up.
.
.
.
.
“You’re safe now, buddy. I’ve got you.”
The night stretches on, in a sort of weary, quiet way.
The storm that hit Kalmari would be known as one of the most violent and out-of-season weather events on record for at least the past few decades. Though it only lasted about thirty minutes and bore no rain, the sheer force of its thunder and lightning and the whip of its wind forced many to take shelter in their basements. Being struck down hadn’t been out of the question - there would be more than a few scorch marks and burnt trees in the outlying fields when people went to check the next day.
Later, the townsfolk would call it the work of a Demon Beast causing trouble somewhere in the atmosphere. Maybe two of them had gotten into some kind of fight, since the town ended up remaining largely unscathed. In the end, they wouldn’t know; the raging weather settled as abruptly as it started.
Atler wouldn’t call his father a Demon Beast by any means. Guy was far from it. He loved his family and he wouldn’t hurt a bug if he could help it. But with that little lightning party he threw, he couldn’t blame anyone for thinking that way.
“Got him right out of the river. Lucky too; would’ve drowned if I’d been a second late.”
“I see.”
Atler sure didn’t blame him either. His own feathers were ruffled just thinking about it.
Poor Kade had gone through the wringer and nobody could imagine how miserable the child might’ve been. Miss Ellie had thrown a fit when she’d seen her son held in Atler’s wing, sweating and hot off of a marathon sprint home after Atler had given her the call. Atler stayed out of her way and let her do whatever it was nurses did, and pointedly did not look at her parents while paramedics were called to take his brother to the hospital.
He’d been missing for awhile, she told him between a million thank yous that he really didn’t deserve. A babysitting accident, nobody had been watching him, he’d been gone all day.
Considering who her parents were, and how quiet they were as she rambled on, he…wasn’t surprised. Kept that to himself, though.
Getting Bate’s attention about his child’s recovery was a trickier matter, because a man on an angry hunt who didn’t have a phone was hard to track. Ellie hadn’t a thought to spare towards it when she was too busy taking her child to get medical attention. Atler hadn’t been sure what to do.
In the end, though, his pops ends up coming home on his own. With his wife absent and Atler standing at the door, it had fallen to his first child to lay everything out while he stood there crackling at the pauldrons. Atler could never be afraid of his father, but no bird ever liked lightning.
“I can’t thank you enough, Atler. I don’t know what anyone would’ve done without you.”
“Don’t need to thank me, pops. He’s my brother, of course I’d do anything for him. Besides, oughta be thanking you for that show you put on out there! Loudest thing to wake me up in my life.”
It’s a weak attempt at a joke in a really crappy situation. Thankfully, he sees Bate sport a brief little smile, just for a second.
They don’t talk about the grandparents holding their silent vigil on the living room couch, or the looks on their faces as they wait for their inevitable judgment. Callan’s face is utterly ruined with tears and the flush of constant crying, and beside her Les sits with his stony gaze pinned to the wall. Bate paces, bouncing from the twins’ bedroom and back to the living area, and the house phone is pinned to his ear in lieu of him booking it after his family to the hospital. Atler knows; he doesn’t trust them to watch either of his children now after what’s happened, their biases be damned.
Ellie and Kade arrive home in the wee hours of the morning. Poor squeaker is a sad sight to see and it breaks Atler’s heart almost as much as it makes Bate crumble. Bandages, bruises, a chipped talon, and despite how dead to the world he is in his sleep, the kiddo can’t seem to stop shaking. He’d been lost in the forest all day and he’d needed fluids and x-rays among other things to ensure no risk of dry drowning or complications down the line.
Bate holds him with such infinite care, and yet his wings are hiked like he’d maul anyone who even thought of coming near him. Ellie slowly, painstakingly, eventually manages to get Bate to put the boy to bed. Eventually.
Atler had meant to leave, now that his job was done. With Kade safe and everything settling down, the tension in the air starts to hang like a live wire, crackling and two seconds from boiling violently over. The fear flies off of his father and, steadily, simmering fury takes its place. The two on the couch quail beneath it.
His father was never prone to anger, but when he got angry… Well. Again. No bird ever liked lightning. And whatever happened was not going to be pretty.
“Atler?” Ellie says gently.
Atler pauses before his wing can touch the doorknob. “Yes, miss Ellie?”
“I know you’re tired, and I’m sorry for all the trouble. But if it’s alright, could you…stay in the children’s room and watch them for us? Just until we’re done here. It…would mean a lot.”
He hesitates, glancing at the family hovering in the living area. Les and Callan aren’t looking at him, too focused on Bate who looks two seconds from vaulting himself at them over the coffee table.
Ellie gives him a tired, pleading look.
Atler swallows a sigh and nods, turning to head down the hall.
…
Everyone in the living room remains silent as the door to the children’s bedroom clicks quietly shut down the hallway.
Nobody speaks. Nobody moves. Les and Callan stare at Bate and Ellie and say not one word.
Bate gives them a long, hard look of contempt. “You two haven’t changed a bit, have you.”
He moves, taking two steps forward and raising his arm. Neither of them expect to come out of this unscathed and both of them squeeze their eyes when his shadow passes over them.
Something slaps gently on the coffee table.
“Look at that.”
Les slowly cracks his eyes open.
On the coffee table in front of him, there are several pieces of paper. He can’t make out the details from this angle, only a series of colorful scribbles, and he reaches over slowly to pick the papers up.
It takes a moment to register what he and Callan are looking at. On each sheet of paper, several drawings are done crudely in crayon, clearly by the hand of a young child. Some, neither of them recognize. Others are familiar, little trees and lopsided faces that make various expressions.
Most of them are people, however, and it isn’t difficult to recognize them as members of the family. Ellie and Bate. Emma and Kade. All of them have smiling faces, far too big for their cartoonish faces.
There are drawings of Les and Callan too. Many of them, they see.
Les hesitates as he hears Bate speak before them. “I thought you two changed. I thought, if not for me, or even your own daughter, you would’ve cleaned up your act for your grandchild. I trusted you.”
Each and every drawing of Les on each piece of paper sports a frown in some way, shape, or form. Each depiction of Kade present beside him looks woefully upset, in the way only a child can convey. His frown, drawn with an incredibly heavy hand, almost seems to take up the entirety of the child’s likeness, and there is a smattering of blue marks all over that one can only assume to be tears.
“My son almost died today, because he’s different. Because he’s an outsider. Because to you, he’s lesser. Is that right? Because you think he’s lesser than you?”
Kade frowns in his drawings while his grandparents smile over his sister beside him. Kade cries in his drawings while his grandfather smiles and holds Emma in his arms. All of these coloring sheets are littered with such imagery, and Les feels himself frown as Callan takes a trembling breath beside him.
Ellie looks at them dully from her place at her husband’s side. She knew her parents’ prejudices just as well as Bate did, and she dearly, dearly wished she felt more shocked than she was.
“I thought you changed,” She mutters brokenly under her breath. “I thought you were better than this. But to take your…your bigotry out on a child… Your grandchild, of all people!”
There are no words she can say that would ever describe the full extent of how she felt towards them. Her child almost died, and all just because he was an outsider.
Les says nothing. There’s nothing for him to say.
Ellie takes a deep breath. Her face pinches, almost like she wants to cry, but in the end her tears have all dried out. She can spare none of the two in front of her, and doesn’t want to anyway.
Her voice comes out incredibly calm. “I’m sorry. But I can’t have either of you in my or my children’s lives anymore, after what’s happened today. Like it or not, I am Kade’s mother. And until you learn to actually embrace that and see him for who he is… I don’t want to see either of you ever again. Understand?”
Bate and Ellie watch as Ellie’s mother crumples into a tearful fit. Beside her, Les remains an unreadable wall but for the frown on his face. Neither of them know what’s going on in his head and neither of them care.
Finally, after what feels like an eon, Les places the paper in his hands back on the table and stands up. He takes a long, slow breath, and exhales quietly.
“Ellie. Bate. I will not argue with your decision. You have every right to make it after what has happened today, and I apologize for the mistakes that have been made that have led to this. I hope that, one day, you two might find it in yourselves to forgive us, and to allow us a second chance. I care about my grandchildren very much, and I want to be in their lives. Both of them.”
It’s the biggest apology Ellie and Bate have ever heard from him, and it rings so very hollow.
“We will be out soon.”
Bate watches them both as they move to gather their things.
Beside him, Ellie lets out a long, weary breath and takes his hand. He squeezes back, for her comfort as well as his own, watching a distraught Callan give her daughter a heavy look as she follows her husband out of the living room.
Bate cares little for Les’ words. One can say so many things, but actions always speak louder. A man willing to leave his daughter to get married on her own was not a man who would ever have looked favorably on whatever children she had. Not if they were the child of someone he inherently viewed as lesser.
Les is only sorry he won’t get to see Emma. And that would never change.
It feels a bit like the ending of a long, terrible chapter in his family’s lives, Bate thinks tiredly. At least now, he could rest assured knowing that his children were both safe - and that they were both loved.
On the living room floor of the Bate household, two young children look up from their coloring sheets.
At two and a half years old, Kade and Emma are still learning to remember the faces of people they haven’t seen in awhile. Repetition is a necessity at that age, their mother would say; they have to be taught and corrected over and over in order for them to understand something long-term.
The Squishy at the door is someone they almost don’t recognize. Tall, with angry looking eyes and dark gray skin and fins on his mantle and a large mustache that hides most of his expression. Maybe he’d be a scary person, too, had they not remembered him at the last second.
He only stares at them for a few seconds before his expression brightens in a big smile and he kneels with open arms. “Emma! Why, I almost didn’t recognize you! Come here, dear girl!”
This is Les, and he is their grandfather. A stalwart Squishy that used to not come around town very often, but after the birth of his grandchildren he had begun making more of an effort in order to see his family. The twins’ eyes light up - recognition, enthusiasm, affection, and with a clamoring of squeals and bird whistles they both hop up to run and greet him.
Les scoops Emma up the moment she’s in reach, laughing at the sight of her. “Why, look at you - I’ve missed you so much! Looking more and more like your mother by the day, I can hardly believe…!” He presses a peck to her mantle and she giggles at the way his mustache brushes against her.
As Les does this, Kade runs on up to him and chirps with his arms held up, and as Kade does this, another Squishy emerges from behind Les. This one is orange, with softer eyes and a softer face and shiny things adorning her arms and fins, and as Kade looks over at her, she gasps.
“Kadren! Oh, there you are!”
Callan is the grandmother of the family. In a lot of ways her husband’s opposite, she’s a much more expressive and open sort than Les is. It would be impossible for the twins not to recognize her for how much she looks like their mother, and Kade immediately diverts course to go chirping into her waiting arms when he sees her. “Hello, my little dear! My, have your wings grown a few inches since I last saw them? Oh, we really do need to visit more often…!”
Kade giggles at the kiss that gets pressed to the top of his head. His laugh comes out as a peep, a rapid chip-chip-chip that makes Les raise his eyebrow.
“Ellie,” He says, vaguely exasperated, “Is that boy still chirping? I thought he’d have learned some words by now. How are we going to understand what he needs while you’re gone?”
Ellie, for her part, tries not to roll her eyes beside them. “Dad, learning more than one language takes time. Lots of kids don’t speak ‘til they’re four, you know. He’ll get the hang of it! Won’t you, jellybean?”
Kade shuffles in Callan’s arms. She has to adjust her grip so he doesn’t end up slipping out, but holding a toddler takes a bit more effort than holding a little baby. Little arms reach out for his mother as he makes a whistling noise in his throat and Ellie brings him right over with a coo.
“See there?” She says, “He can understand you just fine, even if he can’t quite say the words yet. If he wants to show you something, he’ll lead you right to it!” Hopefully. Toddlers don’t always have great judgment. It’d be fine.
Truth be told, Bate and Ellie hadn’t been quite so sure about letting the grandparents babysit when Callan had called ahead and asked about a week ago. The children were still young, and they hadn’t let anyone babysit before. They also didn’t really have the best history with Ellie’s parents, which was its own issue. It’d have been better to let the neighbors watch them, if anything.
But Les and Callan seemed willing to do anything to see Ellie’s children, even if it meant setting aside their old ire for Ellie’s husband. A few years ago, they wouldn’t have stepped within miles of Kalmari beyond the socially obligated Squidmas visit. Now, they showed up a lot more than they used to, and they were much less frosty than they had been. They adored the kids, clearly, and the kids adored them right back. Bate himself couldn’t remember the last time he got on with them this well.
And, well. Les and Callan were the only living grandparents they had. If they were clearly making an effort, then his children deserved the chance to have that chance to know their family.
Still didn’t make it any less nerve-wracking to prepare for it, though.
“Now, I have food ready, lunch and dinner are in the fridge, and there’s fruit and some cheese snacks if they get hungry between meals. Try to have them in bed by seven but I won’t blame you if they put up a fuss and end up going to bed later!” Ellie rattles all of this off to her mother as though she had rehearsed the entire thing, knowing her to listen more to what she was saying than her father who was preoccupied with a child tugging at his facial hair. “Call if you have any questions, okay? Any at all!”
“Oh, come now, Estella, we’ll be just fine,” Callan titters. “Don’t worry about a thing! Go and enjoy yourselves! You two deserve a break and I am terribly eager to begin spoiling my grandchildren in your absence.”
As the two trade words, Bate makes his way over from the kitchen, giving Ellie a nod as he comes closer. His attention skims down toward their son in her arms, who sees him and chirps - a word for attention, something only Bate knows although Ellie has been learning.
“You be good now, okay?” He says, taking the boy into his arms and giving him a gentle hug. “No trying to fly off of the kitchen table like you did two days ago…!”
“Bwuah!”
Bate looks over. Emma has thus far been mostly preoccupied by her grandfather’s mustache, though she pauses when she turns and sees her father coming over. Bate can’t help chuckling as he takes her into his free arm and presses a kiss to her mantle. “You too, Emma. Be good, don’t give your grandparents a hard time!”
Emma giggles, most of the words probably passing through one ear and out the other. It’s the thought that counts.
It’s a little hard for him to hand them to their grandparents when everyone says their goodbyes and it’s time for him and Ellie to head out the door. The children had been told over and over that their grandma and grandpa would be coming to see them, and that they’d be staying with them for a little bit while mom and dad were away. They’d prepared as much as they could for this to go smoothly.
But anything could happen. Kade and Emma were just toddlers and toddlers were unpredictable. Who knows what could go wrong. If something happened and he wasn’t there…
“Bate.”
Standing frozen on the steps leading to his house, Bate glances over. Ellie, beside him, puts a hand on his arm with a warm look. “Everything will be alright.”
He hesitates, looking off towards the road leading into town.
The kids are at a rowdy age. They’re always getting into trouble, and he’s had to watch them vigilantly to make sure nobody gets hurt for the past two years.
Maybe he’s just been so focused on keeping them out of trouble that being able to unwind without anyone to look after isn’t something he’s used to anymore.
“...Yeah, I think you’re right.”
It isn’t often that either of them get to have time to themselves these days. It’d be nice to have a little break for once.
Callan gives one final departing wave to the couple from the threshold of the doorway before she finally clicks the door shut. Kade, in her arms, squirms to be let down with a peep, and though she is perhaps a smidge disappointed to let him go, she does so with no fuss.
“Just us now, little ones!” She declares, “My, now that we’re here, I’m hardly sure where to start…!”
What should they do, she wonders? What game should they play? Should they go for a walk? What did young children prefer? Callan isn’t sure, but she is bound and determined to make the most of it. She knows she is incredibly lucky to be here and does not want to waste it.
It is still truly a miracle that Estella and her husband had allowed her parents to come see the children in the first place, after all of the unfortunate events of the past however many years. Callan can still hardly believe she’s here, honestly.
Beliefs? They were both quite different. Differences? Well, they certainly had them, and that was hardly likely to change. The younger generation was of a type she might never understand.
But she was graceful enough to put that to the side if it meant seeing her grandchildren. What had she been so fussy about anyway, to be aghast as she once was at Bate’s appearance? Little Kadren looked just like him and she could only adore his squishy cheeks and his tiny wings.
“Callan, come look here, would you? You should see Emma’s markings; why, she looks like a spitting image of you!”
Les, on the other hand…
Callan’s attention is drawn over to her husband. Held in one arm, a calloused gray hand traces over the top of Emma’s mantle where a splash of pale orange clashes against the rest of her saffron coloring. “And look,” He beams, “her feet have it as well! A bit of a rarity, isn’t it? Lucky girl.”
A spitting image of Callan is rather an apt statement. Although her own markings are far more symmetrical and refined, Emma looks not one bit different from herself, barring her violet eyes and lack of fins. Callan steps over to take a closer look, nodding with a hum when she catches the details. “Yes, yes. I’m sure Estella is quite proud that her child looks so much like herself.”
Though perhaps not quite as proud as Les himself is.
Callan had dearly hoped that his…sentiments would not have trickled down to his own grandchildren. One could hardly call Kadren an outsider when his mother was a Squishy, surely.
Alas, old men were set in their ways and such had not been the case.
One could not help how one felt, she supposed. He treated both children with decency and was hardly as vitriolic as he’d once been. If only he weren’t so obvious about his preference sometimes, which brought her annoyance to no end.
As Les totes Emma off to the couch in the living room, Callan takes a glance around her. Kadren is no longer in sight, and this makes a shiver of uncertainty settle awkwardly within her. You do not leave a young child unsupervised, and here she was already making mistakes.
“Kadren?” Callan calls, “Have you wandered off? Come here, dear!”
Thankfully, her worries appear unfounded. She hears a tiny pitter of feet on the floor just a moment before she sees Kadren’s little form round the corner, running towards her in a most adorable fashion. He chirps, a greeting, she’s sure.
“There you are!” She beams. “You had me a bit worried, dear! Come, why don’t we go to the living room? Your grandparents brought presents for you!”
It’s a tradition that Les and she must bring a present every time they visit, and perhaps one other reason why the twins remember them so well. Kadren beams at the word - presents - and Callan chuckles as she takes his hand, walking with him to the living room couch where Les is already seated with Emma on the floor.
“Now, let’s see–” As Callan takes her place at her husband’s side, she leans over the side of the couch with a mutter and pulls out the gift she’d brought. It’s a professionally wrapped round little thing and she watches as Kadren goes to completely tear the paper up for the prize inside. “What do you think, dear?”
In Kadren’s hands is a teal blue ball, just small enough for both he and Emma to bounce around without issue. When he squeezes, the ball barely budges in his grasp, and he holds it up with a whistle. “I’m glad you like it, Kadren! I had it custom-made, you know- a bit of North Novan leather in there will keep it quite durable!”
She watches as Kadren coos and chirps over it, squeezing and bouncing it in his hands and hugging it close for reasons only a toddler could name. There’s a big, bright little smile on his face and Callan feels herself light up at a job well done for how much he likes it.
She’s quite proud of herself, personally, for how the little toy came out and for having such forethought about its durability. It would certainly withstand whatever it was toddlers got up to; both he and Emma would love it.
Speaking of, Callan turns her gaze to check on her granddaughter while her grandson is preoccupied.
…Hm.
She does not remember Les bringing that present in.
On the floor in Emma’s arms is a brightly colored box of clay dough and molding kits. The first thing she notices about it is that it’s large. It practically dwarfs her grandchild in size, too big for Emma to even reach the top of, let alone hold. Callan sees why; every surface of the box is a litany of colorful images showcasing a massive variety of clay dough, molds, and plastic utensils, too many for Callan to count. On the front, advertised in high-definition detail, she sees what appears to be some sort of play oven, the focal point of the package shown with its many different functions and uses for play.
Callan immediately thinks that this play set is out of the children’s age range. Many of them look like choking hazards, more suitable for a child of three or perhaps four under adult supervision. When she looks closer, she finds that her suspicions are not without merit either; there is a clearly noted 3+ in big, bubbly font on the corner of the box.
Callan watches, gobsmacked and silent, as Emma tries valiantly to open the thing with no success. Beside her, Callan hears a fond chuckle. “Do you need help there? Here, let’s see what your grandfather can do.”
Les stands and redirects Emma towards the coffee table to help her set everything up, and as he does, Callan glances down towards Kadren with a pinch of something cold in her stomach. He’s staring, she sees, watching the way his sister gets handed an open tub of blue clay when the box is opened up.
She sees him glance down at the ball in his hands, his expression considering. When he looks back up, it’s just in time to see Emma being handed a star-shaped cookie cutter.
Unceremoniously, Kadren drops his toy and goes to join his sister.
The whole thing leaves Callan mystified. She watches, wordlessly, as little Kadren takes a seat at the coffee table and little Emma hands him the star-shaped cutter in her hand. Both of them seem happy.
She knows that this display is inconsequential in the grand course of things. Emma and Kadren are playing together and having a good time, and that’s the important part. But still, she can’t help but feel a little…disquieted.
Quietly, so as not to disturb the children, Callan moves over to join them, sitting beside Kadren and reaching over to help him with a stubborn tub of clay that won’t pop open. She holds her peace long enough to help them finish setting everything up, saying not a word to her husband and letting him enjoy himself.
They play together for a little bit when the twins finally have it all situated. Eventually, though, she and Les take their leave to once more settle on the couch to watch them play. Callan surreptitiously tucks the smaller plastic utensils back into the box as she goes.
Without looking at her husband, she asks him with an air of civility, “You did tell Kadren that the gift belonged to him and Emma both, yes? To share? Like the ball we purchased?”
“Hmh.” A no, then.
“I’d not want him thinking the gift was for Emma alone, yes?”
“Come now, Callan, I don’t see what the fuss is about. Look at him, he’s quite happy. Everything’s fine.”
Callan feels her eye twitch. She takes a slow, measured breath so as not to do something unseemly.
It was fine. It would be fine. The size of a toy did not equate its value and the children were indeed happy and none the wiser.
It would not do to ruin a good day over one measly little incident. If the children were unbothered, then Callan would endeavor to keep her good graces as well. She wanted this day to go smoothly and was determined to make it so.
Fortunately for her, the next few hours end up being quite uneventful barring what she assumes is the characteristic toddler drama. She admits that she is rather unprepared for just how…attentive she has to be.
The twins are absolute darlings, to be sure, but Callan finds that she often has to keep after them to make sure neither of them are out of sight. If they wanted to play, it had to be in the living room. If they wanted their bedroom toys, they’d have to bring them out here. No running in the kitchen, dears. No climbing the shelf for that box! Callan finds herself quite embarrassed when young Emma cries over it.
It’s more than she’s used to doing in her older age. Though she loves them and certainly doesn’t regret babysitting, by the time lunch has arrived she is more than a little worn out and is eager for a small break. Therefore, she hastens through the kitchen to prepare what her daughter has made.
“Les,” Callan calls back, “Can you bring the children from their room? It’s time for them to eat!”
Bring the children he does, toting Emma into the kitchen on one arm while Kadren wanders in behind him with an insistent chirp. “Yes, you’re hungry,” She hears Les say to the boy as he puts Emma in her high chair, “You’ll get your turn in a moment.”
Callan wonders to remark on it - but then Kadren is placed into his high chair and immediately takes to devouring his chicken nuggets, so she supposes Les must not have been wrong about that.
Children settled, both content, Callan is only too happy to let herself go laze on the couch for a much-needed rest. “Keep an eye on them, would you,” She sighs. “I believe I’ve overspent myself these past two hours.”
Les grunts beside her, an affirmative without words. She’s thankful for it as well, because everything in her buzzes with fatigue. Manual activity and running around were Les’ strong suit, certainly not Callan’s.
She’d only intended on resting for a short little while when she’d leaned back and closed her eyes. Being able to just… sit down without having to pay much attention to anything simply felt so nice that, when the lull of exhaustion reached her, she found it difficult to resist slipping under.
Les would be fine. He had things handled and would wake her up when the time came.
…
Les did not have things handled and did not wake her up.
Callan’s eyes, instead, snap open to the sound of a wail.
She has no clue what time it is or even where she’s at. Her heart pounds in her chest with a terrible fright and she sits ramrod straight, looking around frantically with wide, terrified eyes.
“I– Kadren? Emma? Children, where–”
The crying comes from the kitchen; she does not hesitate. All exhaustion forgotten, running on adrenaline, Callan moves faster than she has in years and will surely feel it later.
What had happened? What was wrong? Had Les not been watching them? All of these questions run through her mind as half-thoughts feeding on the dredges of sleep, half-aware and disoriented. They couldn’t have gotten in trouble the second her guard was lowered. Surely.
She expects…she isn’t sure, actually. Something terrible, to be sure. Such a cry could mean nothing but.
But all she sees when she gets there is two children in their seats, empty plates in front of them, and her husband holding a cookie just out of the reach of a crying Kadren’s outstretched grasp.
Callan sees red.
“What are you doing!”
Les jumps as though burnt. There was hardly a thing that could frighten him so, and to see the way his expression pales at the sight of his wife only tells her just how much he knows he’s messed up.
“Callan, hold on–”
“What are you thinking? Are you daft?”
“I was just–”
“That is your grandson. That is a toddler! Have you no shame!”
Callan feels like a rubber band pulled taut, ready to snap at any second. She can’t stop shaking. She has to concentrate to even breathe, and it takes everything in her not to do something woefully rash.
In all her years, she never thought Les would have sunk so low. To hold his prejudice was one thing, but to do this…
“I was trying to get him to say please,” Les bites lowly. Callan wants to slap him.
“I don’t care what you were trying to do. This is inexcusable. Estella would have your head if she were here to see this and you know it.”
Callan marches her way over and yanks the cookie out of his hand. A tiny, furious part of her wants to outright crush the thing - but Kadren sniffles beside them, and Callan is now keenly aware that she is being watched.
She wants to yell. Wants to give Les no small amount of what-for and let him have it. Everything in her bites to be let out with great force.
Instead, she takes a slow, deep breath and gently hands the cookie over to her grandson. “Here you are, dear.”
Young children are, fortunately, often easily soothed. Though he hiccups, his crying largely abates and he takes the treat with a coo, popping it into his mouth and chewing without a care in the world.
Callan gives Les a hard look. Beneath her gaze, he shifts. “Callan,” He starts, “I–”
“Don’t,” She cuts, and is quite glad her voice comes out rather calm, “go and ‘Callan’ me, Les. You know better. I’m only not giving you an earful right now because children are present and I, for one, would actually like to enjoy this day with my grandchildren. But so help me, if your attitude makes Kadren cry again, Estella will hear about this.”
The warning hangs thick in the air, heavy with the promise in her words. They both knew she would do it, if push came to shove, and they both knew that it would not be pretty.
Les says nothing.
“Now,” Callan huffs, “Why don’t you take their ball from the living room and go outside while I clean them up and get things finished here? We will be out shortly.” And maybe some fresh air would help Les come to his senses, but that remains unspoken.
As her husband takes his leave and grumbles under his breath, Callan looks between the two children who look right back at her with big, curious eyes. They both look so innocent, far too sweet to have to deal with any of this, and she has to swallow back a great, exhausted sigh.
This was supposed to have been a nice day.
“Let’s get you two cleaned up, yes?” She says. “I believe you both are overdue for some sunshine right about now…!”
And after these past few hours, Callan thinks she is due for some air too.
…
Now, if one had to ask, Callan was the kind of woman who much preferred the convenience of city life. It was one reason she hadn’t deigned to come visit Kalmari as often as she should have. All family drama aside, the fact remained that Kalmari was, in her opinion, just…a little bit boring. Though she’d never have said that out loud.
She often thought that she couldn’t see why Estella would choose to live here when she’d had everything she could ever need back home. Moving out where there was nothing to do simply made no sense.
She did have to admit, though - standing out here, she might be beginning to understand a little bit.
Callan stands at the threshold of Estella’s backdoor and breathes in the fresh air, feeling the breeze brush against her face and toy at the jewelry hanging from her fins.
In front of her, the land opens wide, untethered and unbound by any walls or boundary lines. It is a veritable little meadow that stretches on into the forest a ways ahead, blanketed in green grass and the rainbow hues of flowering plants and other such foliage, kept tidy just enough to keep the children safe as they play.
With no indoor rules or walls to keep them restrained, the little ones are free to be as rowdy as they please and certainly they act it. Kadren and Emma shriek and yell louder than Callan has ever heard as they chase after their new ball, a chorus of laughter and half-made words and whistling chirps echoing between them as the toy is kicked and thrown every which way. Of course, there is no fencing to keep them separated from the rest of the world, and Callan does not care for it at all. But, if nothing else, Les is a warrior at heart; he would catch them quickly.
She glances at him from the corner of her eye.
Settled on a bench placed against the back wall of the house, her husband watches the children diligently with an expression on his face that Callan can’t read. One hand pulls idly at the end of his mustache in the absence of his pipe, a motion that tells her he’s deep in thought. He’s not said a word since the incident from earlier, and Callan has not said anything to invite him to.
She ponders on if he’s wondering what to say. Whether he’s thinking of an apology or an excuse.
It’s a shame that she even has to ask herself that.
The silence stretches between them with the weight of a tension that, thankfully, goes unnoticed by the children a ways away. Both of them are as still as statues, neither one willing to move and disturb the peace. How long this goes on, Callan does not know.
Eventually, from beside her, she hears a great sigh.
“They are both our grandchildren. Things…could have been handled better.”
He’s not looking at her, still. His expression remains difficult to read.
She doesn’t say anything. And when she remains silent, he finally lets out a breath. “It won’t happen again.”
It’s about as good an apology as she’s going to get.
Callan watches the children for a few more moments, listening to the sounds of their laughter and watching how they tumble in the grass. Blissfully unaware and blissfully happy. They would probably be parched by the time they wore themselves out.
“I believe,” She says steadily, “I am going to get the little ones something to drink.”
And then she retreats further into the house, a tad too hastily. It feels a bit like running away.
The kitchen is the same as when she had left it earlier, tidied up from the kids’ lunch and without a hair out of place. Compared to just a bit ago, it feels a little surreal to hear how quiet it is now with nobody else in the house.
The scene from before remains burnt into her eyes. It’s a terrible afterimage that appears each time she closes them and she can’t make the sight leave her no matter how she wishes to. The anger and the betrayal are there, still, buzzing somewhere under her skin. Seeing Les’ frustration, openly on his face, and his grandson openly distressed in front of him…
She finds herself pondering the nature of her husband, and at what point he changed so severely. Stubborn, prideful, perhaps not the most pleasant to get along with, but he had never been so…cruel. He had only been trying to make Kadren speak, he said, but Kadren could not. How was that fair? How much of what Les claimed was even true, knowing his favoritism ran deep?
Callan takes a breath and puts a hand to her mantle, squeezing her eyes shut against the headache she feels starting to build.
She didn’t know what to believe. What happened to the man she married so many years ago?
As Callan stands there by the kitchen sink and tries to make sense of things, she becomes distantly aware of the sound of something outside, just faint enough she almost can’t hear it. She’s not sure what it is, but to hear it from here, it must’ve been loud.
A handful of seconds later, she hears the back door slam against the wall. Her heart leaps in her throat, everything in her jumps, she whirls around with wide eyes–
The sound of Emma wailing greets her the same moment a breathless Les barrels into the kitchen, wide-eyed and wild. He holds Emma in a vice grip in his arms, and Callan almost can’t hear him over the sound of her shrieking. “Get the first aid kit. Now.”
“Dear?” Callan startles, “I–?”
“Callan, she’s hurt.”
And then she sees the blood.
Everything in her stops dead at the sight of Emma’s mantle, overlaid and smeared with a blaze of dark, viscous red that rolls down thickly towards her eyes, trailing from a wound that Callan can’t see clearly for all of the blood–
“Sweet NOVA–” She cries, “Les, what happened–?”
“The boy, his talons, what else, Callan–”
“I know, I know–”
Everything flies out the window. Callan has no other thought but for the wailing child that she is responsible for, operating on autopilot with every part of her cold with the tremors of adrenaline and terror.
She rushes for the bathroom with Les just at her side, praying it’s nothing, praying they don’t need to go to the hospital, praying that her parents forgive them. Her heart pounds with the panic in her chest and, for just a few moments, she forgets anything else exists.
Unfortunately, a few moments is all a toddler needs.
Outside, the plaza of Kalmari bustles with the onset of the afternoon crowd. Most of them are locals, with faces that are easy to recognize and names that are easy to remember. Squishies, the majority of them. But if someone looks close, they might be able to see a few out of towners.
It’s easy to watch them go by without quite seeing them, to pay attention to nothing in particular about the visitors except for the fact that they're different. It used to be that the town barely tolerated an outside presence at all. The locals didn't have a rule outright banning them, exactly, but they'd show you when you weren't welcome. The growing diversity of the community is a new thing, still; it’s nice to see that people seem to be treating the others well these days.
“How are you feeling?”
Ellie twitches and looks over.
Across the table, Bate gazes at her with a small frown on his face. “You’ve been staring out the window for some time. I don’t think you’ve even touched your food since it got here.”
She glances down at the immaculate spread of food in front of them, a collection of little dishes that look more like art than anything edible. It definitely wasn’t the usual fare, nor was coming out to a place as fancy as this for lunch, but it was a special occasion. Why not splurge a little?
He isn’t wrong, though. Her food is still as perfectly presentable as it was when it had first arrived, undisturbed and untouched. It makes a flush of embarrassment dust her cheeks - some splurge that would be if she let it go to waste - and she reaches down hastily to grab her fork. “Ahh, sorry! I must’ve gotten distracted…”
As she takes a bite and starts to focus on the meal in front of her, she can hear Bate hum thoughtfully across from her. “Is something on your mind?” He says gently. “You can always talk to me, you know that.”
Oh, she knew that well. Of everyone in Kalmari, everyone in the universe, there wasn’t a person that Ellie trusted more to talk to about whatever was in her mind. Fiercely loyal to a fault and yet so kind at the same time, he was as much an anchor for her as she was for him. She thanked NOVA all the time for what a blessing it was to have met him.
Still, she hesitates.
She just didn’t want him to worry, was all. Bate had already been uncertain enough as it was this morning when they left, and now he was having so much fun, and so was she! She didn’t want to spoil a good day just because she happened to be feeling a little off-kilter.
“Just wondering how the kids are doing,” Ellie shrugs finally. It’s casual, and she makes sure to keep her tone light as she takes another bite. “Mom and dad are probably spoiling them rotten with dessert, I can feel it.”
Bate groans with mock-dread. “Oh, you don’t have to tell me that. They’re going to be bouncing off the walls for the next week.” His face twists humorously and Ellie almost wants to laugh. “But I’m sure they’re having fun, at least. Probably more fun than we’re having, honestly; your parents love them to death.”
“Ha! You’re not wrong. Every time they visit it’s something else. A new toy, a new game, new something. Kade and Emma’s poor closet is bursting at the seams.”
“We’re going to have to go through it again soon…”
Ellie chuckles to herself in agreement, feeling the lull settle between them as they both take the time to eat. She knows that Bate has more he wants to say. She can feel it in the gentle weight of the air between them and the way he looks at her, expectant but without pressure. He can read her better than anyone else.
“Don’t worry about me,” She smiles, finally. “I’m having fun, honest, and you should too! Come on, let’s finish this up. It’d be nice to go see the beach when we’re done.”
He stares at her for a good second. Debating, probably.
And then his wings sag as he lets out a breath, the subtle tension easing out of him as he nods. “Alright. If you say so. I do wonder if the beach has changed any since we were there last, though…”
As they settle into their lunch, Ellie thinks about what he’d said. He was right; her parents adored the children. The worst she and Bate have to worry about is a sugar crash and some upset little ones thrown off of their routine for the next few days.
Everything is fine.
And yet.
She still can’t quite shake this feeling.
-----------------------
Time has a way of running from people.
It’s easy to get lost in the moment. Focus on something and forget the rest of the world exists. Time is relative and if someone pays more attention to the fun they’re having or the stress they’re feeling than the world around them, then they wouldn’t know to look up until after the sun meandered its merry way past the horizon line and the sky turned dark.
Such was the case for a lot of people. Such was especially the case for one Bate and Ellie, who were having too much fun basking in each other to notice the world change until they couldn’t see but three steps in front of them.
Although sheepish, Bate can’t find it in himself to care too much. Spending time with Ellie is the best way to spend time, and even if it runs away from him he considers it time well spent. When was the last time he got to go out to lunch with her? When was the last time they got to go for a walk on the beach? To stroll through the plaza and the town’s outskirts and to go for a flight through the height of the clouds, something they so rarely ever got to do these days?
Ellie would echo the sentiment, humming along to herself with a pleasant sort of weariness as she holds his hand and lets him help lead them both back down the way towards home. The dark casts deep shadows lit only by sidewalk lamps and the dim glimmers of houses a distance away, but despite that they traverse the path with ease borne of muscle memory. She can only be utterly content with the way the day ended, even if it ended up going on a bit longer than they meant it to.
When the two arrive home, they both make sure to stay quiet as they fiddle with their things and gently crack the door open. The children had to be asleep by then, and they didn’t need to cause a ruckus and go waking them back up.
Neither are exactly sure what to expect when they peer into their home. Bate joked on the way over that maybe it would look like a war zone. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to be the case; everything is exactly as they had left it, no stray toys anywhere and nothing they can see broken or out of place.
The only difference to the living room is the presence of Ellie’s mother, who sits on the sofa in a prim and proper position with her hands folded over her lap. She doesn’t seem to notice them for a few seconds, only startling when she hears the sound of shuffling coming from the front door.
Callan blinks several times at them, beaming quickly and sitting straighter as they both step inside. “Ah. You two have returned…!” She says pleasantly.
Ellie beams over at her. “We’re home!” She murmurs, just loud enough to be sure Callan can hear her. “Sorry we’re late. We sort of got a little distracted…”
“Oh, think nothing of it. You two deserve to have a rest. I take it you both enjoyed yourselves?”
Enjoying it was maybe an understatement. “Oh, we had so much fun! It feels like so much has changed since we were last out running around, it’s crazy how time flies…”
“That it is, my dear, certainly.”
“Though, it is nice to be home now. It’s funny; you need such a break from parenting, but the moment you have it you start missing the kids and wanting to come right back. They don’t tell you much about that in parenting books.”
“I would think not.”
“How were they? I noticed neither of you called. Did everything go okay?”
No response.
Ellie blinks. “Mom?”
Callan twitches, as if just startling back into herself. Where her eyes had sat glued to the nearby window in a glaze, now they gaze upon Ellie with some measure of surprise, and a note of something that Ellie can’t make out. “Pardon?” Callan asks. “Could you repeat that?”
Ellie stares.
Now that she’s actually paying attention, it’s hard to miss just how…still her mother seems to be. She sits so politely on the sofa that it honestly looks uncomfortable, and Ellie sees the way she squeezes her hands, so tightly they almost go pale.
Every part of her is a taut wire, riddled with tension and painfully stiff. Her shoulders sit hiked up and she almost doesn’t look like she’s even breathing. Callan stares at her and Ellie can’t help but notice just how red her eyes are.
She feels something cold crawl down her spine.
Ellie opens her mouth, her brow furrowing-
“Callan, I searched the forest all over, I can’t find him–”
And then
everything sort of
Stops.
…
“What?”
Ellie stares.
Les is there now. From outside. He looks panicked. She thinks it's such a strange thing to see, when her father is ordinarily so fearless.
She doesn't understand what he means.
“What?”
Neither of her parents will say anything. Neither of them will move. She doesn't understand why. Everything had been going so well. Right?
Right?
Les glances down the hall.
Surely not.
Surely not, Ellie thinks. Surely not, she thinks as she pushes Bate aside and makes her way down the hall. Surely not, she thinks as she grabs the door to her children's room and swings it open loud enough that she hears her daughter startle awake in her bed.
Surely not surely not surely not
Ellie steps over and yanks back the blankets of Kade's bed.
-----------------------------
In the living room, Bate listens to the grandparents stutter and stammer and talk through a haze.
They tell him in breathless mutters. They had looked away for just a second. Only a second. That they had looked everywhere, Les had done everything he could, but Emma had gotten hurt, a little accident while they were playing outside, and they had only looked away for one second.
Everything they say goes through one ear and out the other. Everything in his body feels both numb and inhumanly weightless.
They left Kade alone. A toddler alone outside. When? How long ago? How could they? Why didn’t they call him? Why didn’t they say anything?
He thinks he’s shaking, but he can’t be sure. He thinks he smells the ozone of lightning, but he isn’t certain. The loom of his wings and the breadth of his talons cast heavy shadows over Les and Callan’s forms and neither of them can do anything but shrink back and duck their heads and pray they don’t die.
Memories float by. The insults spoken under their breath over his bestial form, the refusal to look at him. Old and set in their ways. Kade was his father’s son and why would his grandparents ever think otherwise just because of shared blood.
Why is he still standing here, Bate wonders. Why, when none of it matters, because Kade is still out there, and another second standing there is another second that Kade could die.
And he is not going to let that happen.
As Ellie runs frantically back into the main living area, as she shouts words to her parents that pass him in a blur, as Emma’s cries of confusion echo through the whole house, Bate turns. Heedless of all present, he steps towards the front door.
“I’m going to find my son.”
He’s out before anyone has a chance to say anything. Even if they did, he wouldn’t have heard.
The night air greets him with the weight of an oncoming storm, rumbling faintly in the distance. As he spreads his wings wide - a sight to behold, like a Demon Beast ready to take off - he can feel the burgeoning of thunder clouds beginning to roll through, impossible to miss no matter how pitch black it is.
Bate takes off in one mighty sweep, a powerful flap that sets him alight into the air and another beat of his wings that shoots him off like a rocket. Again, and again, flying higher and higher until he blends into the ichor black clouds above as though they were old friends.
Everything in him trembles. Every part of his nerves buzz with the restraint of someone barely keeping it together by a single thread. Something in him cracks at the realization of all his worries and all his fears, a gut feeling proven right after two and a half years trying so hard to ignore it.
It all festers. Crawls up to the surface in a boiling pit of too many emotions to name. Anger, despair, fear and panic - guilt.
The wind stings at his face without mercy or care.
Bate opens his mouth and screams.
Lightning cracks across the sky and screams right along with him.
-----------------------------
Somewhere, hidden away, a young child jerks violently awake to the sound of a thunderclap.
He doesn’t know where he is.
Something presses against him. Scraping against his hands and wings, pressing into his belly and feet, something surrounds him all over, threatening to smother him. He doesn’t know what it is. He can’t see it.
He can’t see anything.
He swings his arms and legs and wings every which way in a blind panic as he lets out a muffled cry. It hurts to move; something scrapes his hands, something falls on his back, something catches on his wings. Everything presses against him and he fights with all the strength he can muster, driven by terror and the panicked desperation to survive.
In the depths of a pitch black forest, so dark that it’s impossible to see anything, flurries of movement abound amidst the great roots of a mighty tree. Among the quiet sounds of nature, there is a shuffle as dirt shifts and gets shoved aside. The trees stand and watch as the entrance of an old, long abandoned burrow prepares to collapse in on itself.
And then Kade scrambles free with a cry, popping frantically into a world that he doesn’t recognize.
He stumbles across the ground with a weak chirp in his throat, catching on the detritus beneath him and tripping over fallen tree branches and rocks. His arms flail out, hands grasping blindly for anything he can reach. Nevertheless, he falls.
Groggy, panicked eyes glance at the world all around as little lungs take deep, frantic breaths of humid, stormy air. Everywhere, unseen, the forest of Kalmari stretches on in an impenetrable obsidian thicket, reaching into the overcast sky through which only the faintest glimmer of moonlight peeks through.
It’s dark.
He doesn't know where he is.
He’s scared.
Kade had wanted to see his parents. They had left and he missed them a lot. He also had not wanted to stay home, though, because he kept making his grandfather mad, and his grandfather was scary when he was mad. His grandfather doesn’t like him.
He doesn’t like his grandfather either.
Kalmari forest is nice. He likes it a lot. It’s always so green, and bright, and noisy, full of lots of different kinds of birds and chirping, and his brother lives there too. The family goes on walks through the forest often and Kade loves to play in the brush with his sister. There’s no reason not to wander off that way to see his parents, in his little head.
But he’d wandered for a very, very long time. So long, in fact, that he’d gotten tired of wandering and went to take a nap.
Now he doesn’t know where he is.
Kade stands there, shivering, surrounded by the dark and unable to see anything at all, not even himself. Tears sting at little wide eyes as his heart pitter-patters fast in his chest. Every part of him is locked up, too afraid to make any noise and too afraid to move, because if he does, something will get him.
He’s hungry. He’s tired. He hurts all over and he doesn’t like it at all.
He’s scared. He wants his parents.
He wants to go home.
Thunder cracks.
It’s louder than anything this child has ever heard. It’s louder than anything anyone this side of West Nova has ever heard.
The force of it is ungodly - it rips through the world like it’s a living thing, ramming against the trees with violent fury and deafening the fearful woodland creatures into punished silence. All the force of a divine god’s rage rattles Kade right down to the bone, and for a second he forgets he even exists.
Everything hurts. His ears, his teeth, everything. The air leaves his lungs violently and he can’t breathe. His stomach hurts and he wants to be sick.
Shivering, fighting for air, he frantically takes a winded, raspy breath–
Kade screams and bolts.
In the depths of a pitch black forest, so dark that it’s impossible to see anything, a child runs blindly on frantic, tired legs with no idea where he's going. He stumbles, tripping over tree roots and rocks and gaps in the dirt below him, and his arms flail out frantically to catch himself. Nevertheless, he falls, and it’s only through sheer adrenaline that he manages to scramble to keep going, regardless of pain or ache.
He hears a lot of things around him. He doesn’t know what any of it is. To him, it’s all one big crashing buzz, a racket of hissing and howling and snarling coming from above and beside and below. Coming from behind.
In Kade’s mind, there’s a monster chasing after him. He doesn’t know what it looks like or how close it is to reaching him, but he knows that it’s loud, and that it’s big, larger than life, larger than the whole wide world.
It’s angry.
It’s mad at him and he knows that because it yells at him when he runs. It hisses when he trips, it howls when he tries to fly away. When he chirps frantically for help, it chirps back from the trees to say please. When he falls and feels bark hit his face and wails, it drones in the sky to be quiet and Kade puts his hands over his mouth so he won’t make another noise.
He envisions a terrifying face covered in fur, and big, angry black eyes glaring at him, and a big, angry gray body that smashes everything in its way. It doesn’t like him. He’s bad. He does everything wrong and he’s bad.
Overhead, the roaring sky deafens the world. Kade puts his hands over his ears and stumbles over the empty air of a missed step.
He falls.
And the crashing waters of a ravine eagerly swallow him up.
.
.
.
.
“You’re safe now, buddy. I’ve got you.”
The night stretches on, in a sort of weary, quiet way.
The storm that hit Kalmari would be known as one of the most violent and out-of-season weather events on record for at least the past few decades. Though it only lasted about thirty minutes and bore no rain, the sheer force of its thunder and lightning and the whip of its wind forced many to take shelter in their basements. Being struck down hadn’t been out of the question - there would be more than a few scorch marks and burnt trees in the outlying fields when people went to check the next day.
Later, the townsfolk would call it the work of a Demon Beast causing trouble somewhere in the atmosphere. Maybe two of them had gotten into some kind of fight, since the town ended up remaining largely unscathed. In the end, they wouldn’t know; the raging weather settled as abruptly as it started.
Atler wouldn’t call his father a Demon Beast by any means. Guy was far from it. He loved his family and he wouldn’t hurt a bug if he could help it. But with that little lightning party he threw, he couldn’t blame anyone for thinking that way.
“Got him right out of the river. Lucky too; would’ve drowned if I’d been a second late.”
“I see.”
Atler sure didn’t blame him either. His own feathers were ruffled just thinking about it.
Poor Kade had gone through the wringer and nobody could imagine how miserable the child might’ve been. Miss Ellie had thrown a fit when she’d seen her son held in Atler’s wing, sweating and hot off of a marathon sprint home after Atler had given her the call. Atler stayed out of her way and let her do whatever it was nurses did, and pointedly did not look at her parents while paramedics were called to take his brother to the hospital.
He’d been missing for awhile, she told him between a million thank yous that he really didn’t deserve. A babysitting accident, nobody had been watching him, he’d been gone all day.
Considering who her parents were, and how quiet they were as she rambled on, he…wasn’t surprised. Kept that to himself, though.
Getting Bate’s attention about his child’s recovery was a trickier matter, because a man on an angry hunt who didn’t have a phone was hard to track. Ellie hadn’t a thought to spare towards it when she was too busy taking her child to get medical attention. Atler hadn’t been sure what to do.
In the end, though, his pops ends up coming home on his own. With his wife absent and Atler standing at the door, it had fallen to his first child to lay everything out while he stood there crackling at the pauldrons. Atler could never be afraid of his father, but no bird ever liked lightning.
“I can’t thank you enough, Atler. I don’t know what anyone would’ve done without you.”
“Don’t need to thank me, pops. He’s my brother, of course I’d do anything for him. Besides, oughta be thanking you for that show you put on out there! Loudest thing to wake me up in my life.”
It’s a weak attempt at a joke in a really crappy situation. Thankfully, he sees Bate sport a brief little smile, just for a second.
They don’t talk about the grandparents holding their silent vigil on the living room couch, or the looks on their faces as they wait for their inevitable judgment. Callan’s face is utterly ruined with tears and the flush of constant crying, and beside her Les sits with his stony gaze pinned to the wall. Bate paces, bouncing from the twins’ bedroom and back to the living area, and the house phone is pinned to his ear in lieu of him booking it after his family to the hospital. Atler knows; he doesn’t trust them to watch either of his children now after what’s happened, their biases be damned.
Ellie and Kade arrive home in the wee hours of the morning. Poor squeaker is a sad sight to see and it breaks Atler’s heart almost as much as it makes Bate crumble. Bandages, bruises, a chipped talon, and despite how dead to the world he is in his sleep, the kiddo can’t seem to stop shaking. He’d been lost in the forest all day and he’d needed fluids and x-rays among other things to ensure no risk of dry drowning or complications down the line.
Bate holds him with such infinite care, and yet his wings are hiked like he’d maul anyone who even thought of coming near him. Ellie slowly, painstakingly, eventually manages to get Bate to put the boy to bed. Eventually.
Atler had meant to leave, now that his job was done. With Kade safe and everything settling down, the tension in the air starts to hang like a live wire, crackling and two seconds from boiling violently over. The fear flies off of his father and, steadily, simmering fury takes its place. The two on the couch quail beneath it.
His father was never prone to anger, but when he got angry… Well. Again. No bird ever liked lightning. And whatever happened was not going to be pretty.
“Atler?” Ellie says gently.
Atler pauses before his wing can touch the doorknob. “Yes, miss Ellie?”
“I know you’re tired, and I’m sorry for all the trouble. But if it’s alright, could you…stay in the children’s room and watch them for us? Just until we’re done here. It…would mean a lot.”
He hesitates, glancing at the family hovering in the living area. Les and Callan aren’t looking at him, too focused on Bate who looks two seconds from vaulting himself at them over the coffee table.
Ellie gives him a tired, pleading look.
Atler swallows a sigh and nods, turning to head down the hall.
…
Everyone in the living room remains silent as the door to the children’s bedroom clicks quietly shut down the hallway.
Nobody speaks. Nobody moves. Les and Callan stare at Bate and Ellie and say not one word.
Bate gives them a long, hard look of contempt. “You two haven’t changed a bit, have you.”
He moves, taking two steps forward and raising his arm. Neither of them expect to come out of this unscathed and both of them squeeze their eyes when his shadow passes over them.
Something slaps gently on the coffee table.
“Look at that.”
Les slowly cracks his eyes open.
On the coffee table in front of him, there are several pieces of paper. He can’t make out the details from this angle, only a series of colorful scribbles, and he reaches over slowly to pick the papers up.
It takes a moment to register what he and Callan are looking at. On each sheet of paper, several drawings are done crudely in crayon, clearly by the hand of a young child. Some, neither of them recognize. Others are familiar, little trees and lopsided faces that make various expressions.
Most of them are people, however, and it isn’t difficult to recognize them as members of the family. Ellie and Bate. Emma and Kade. All of them have smiling faces, far too big for their cartoonish faces.
There are drawings of Les and Callan too. Many of them, they see.
Les hesitates as he hears Bate speak before them. “I thought you two changed. I thought, if not for me, or even your own daughter, you would’ve cleaned up your act for your grandchild. I trusted you.”
Each and every drawing of Les on each piece of paper sports a frown in some way, shape, or form. Each depiction of Kade present beside him looks woefully upset, in the way only a child can convey. His frown, drawn with an incredibly heavy hand, almost seems to take up the entirety of the child’s likeness, and there is a smattering of blue marks all over that one can only assume to be tears.
“My son almost died today, because he’s different. Because he’s an outsider. Because to you, he’s lesser. Is that right? Because you think he’s lesser than you?”
Kade frowns in his drawings while his grandparents smile over his sister beside him. Kade cries in his drawings while his grandfather smiles and holds Emma in his arms. All of these coloring sheets are littered with such imagery, and Les feels himself frown as Callan takes a trembling breath beside him.
Ellie looks at them dully from her place at her husband’s side. She knew her parents’ prejudices just as well as Bate did, and she dearly, dearly wished she felt more shocked than she was.
“I thought you changed,” She mutters brokenly under her breath. “I thought you were better than this. But to take your…your bigotry out on a child… Your grandchild, of all people!”
There are no words she can say that would ever describe the full extent of how she felt towards them. Her child almost died, and all just because he was an outsider.
Les says nothing. There’s nothing for him to say.
Ellie takes a deep breath. Her face pinches, almost like she wants to cry, but in the end her tears have all dried out. She can spare none of the two in front of her, and doesn’t want to anyway.
Her voice comes out incredibly calm. “I’m sorry. But I can’t have either of you in my or my children’s lives anymore, after what’s happened today. Like it or not, I am Kade’s mother. And until you learn to actually embrace that and see him for who he is… I don’t want to see either of you ever again. Understand?”
Bate and Ellie watch as Ellie’s mother crumples into a tearful fit. Beside her, Les remains an unreadable wall but for the frown on his face. Neither of them know what’s going on in his head and neither of them care.
Finally, after what feels like an eon, Les places the paper in his hands back on the table and stands up. He takes a long, slow breath, and exhales quietly.
“Ellie. Bate. I will not argue with your decision. You have every right to make it after what has happened today, and I apologize for the mistakes that have been made that have led to this. I hope that, one day, you two might find it in yourselves to forgive us, and to allow us a second chance. I care about my grandchildren very much, and I want to be in their lives. Both of them.”
It’s the biggest apology Ellie and Bate have ever heard from him, and it rings so very hollow.
“We will be out soon.”
Bate watches them both as they move to gather their things.
Beside him, Ellie lets out a long, weary breath and takes his hand. He squeezes back, for her comfort as well as his own, watching a distraught Callan give her daughter a heavy look as she follows her husband out of the living room.
Bate cares little for Les’ words. One can say so many things, but actions always speak louder. A man willing to leave his daughter to get married on her own was not a man who would ever have looked favorably on whatever children she had. Not if they were the child of someone he inherently viewed as lesser.
Les is only sorry he won’t get to see Emma. And that would never change.
It feels a bit like the ending of a long, terrible chapter in his family’s lives, Bate thinks tiredly. At least now, he could rest assured knowing that his children were both safe - and that they were both loved.
-The End-
Artist Comment:
November 7, 2024
-----------------
KADE! ToT MY POOR BBY!!!!
Wow, now this is a beefy story! So much happened- drama, hurt, pain, loss. Askjhgfds!!! I love how it turned out!!!! Les is in MAJOR trouble here. I'm pretty sure it's a massive understatement, but he's kind of a really bad grandpa. D; Wait till Bate finds out he was accidently smoking in front of him one time. Ack- he's going to lose it!
So! Callan hasn't properly appeared since 2015, and I'd honestly love to get a few more stories of her posted in the future! Of her backstory, and maybe a continuation of this story. She, out of the two grandparents, deserves a second chance. I know what happened to Kade was tragic and absolutely irresponsible on Les and Callan's part. Both parties will need much time to recover and move on from this incident. Bate and Ellie almost lost their child because of this, so the steps to forgive them will be a long road. Callan loves her two grandchildren VERY much, so I know losing contact with them will tear her to pieces. Les is going to need A LOT of time to self reflect on his disgusting behavior towards Kade. He obviously favorites Emma, and if you were able to catch it- Les does not call Kade by his name. He only refers to him as "The boy" or "That boy." Callan does her best to give Kade the love and attention he deserves, but once Emma was hurt, her attention was immediately taken away, and that's when Kade unfortunately decides to run into the forest. ;;;;;
No child should ever feel unloved. Kade shouldn't have to work to try to earn his Grandfather's love. But each and every time he chirps for attention, or wants to be picked up, Les pays no mind to him. He honestly only cares for Emma, because Emma is a Squishy. Kade is a reminder of his daughter marrying an outsider. D;
For now, I'd love to work on a resolution for Callan. I believe she'll be able to mend the relationship with Bate and Ellie. Les' story will be a bit more complicated. And I'm honestly not so sure if he'll ever change.
The original illustration is located in this doodle dump. I decided to change it to this one because the story didn't really focus on the incident with Emma and Kade. Also, the original drabble is located here. I was never satisfied with it, so it sat in limbo for many years before I passed it along to my friend with an updated summary. And, as you can clearly see, they made the story sooooo much richer and emotional!! 8D
-
The amazing literature written for this illustration was commissioned by my good friend, Dogblog. (dA- Shadowrealmprincess) ^v^ It's always a huge honor to work with her~ This was a beefy project I had for them, and she absolutely delivered.
November 7, 2024
-----------------
KADE! ToT MY POOR BBY!!!!
Wow, now this is a beefy story! So much happened- drama, hurt, pain, loss. Askjhgfds!!! I love how it turned out!!!! Les is in MAJOR trouble here. I'm pretty sure it's a massive understatement, but he's kind of a really bad grandpa. D; Wait till Bate finds out he was accidently smoking in front of him one time. Ack- he's going to lose it!
So! Callan hasn't properly appeared since 2015, and I'd honestly love to get a few more stories of her posted in the future! Of her backstory, and maybe a continuation of this story. She, out of the two grandparents, deserves a second chance. I know what happened to Kade was tragic and absolutely irresponsible on Les and Callan's part. Both parties will need much time to recover and move on from this incident. Bate and Ellie almost lost their child because of this, so the steps to forgive them will be a long road. Callan loves her two grandchildren VERY much, so I know losing contact with them will tear her to pieces. Les is going to need A LOT of time to self reflect on his disgusting behavior towards Kade. He obviously favorites Emma, and if you were able to catch it- Les does not call Kade by his name. He only refers to him as "The boy" or "That boy." Callan does her best to give Kade the love and attention he deserves, but once Emma was hurt, her attention was immediately taken away, and that's when Kade unfortunately decides to run into the forest. ;;;;;
No child should ever feel unloved. Kade shouldn't have to work to try to earn his Grandfather's love. But each and every time he chirps for attention, or wants to be picked up, Les pays no mind to him. He honestly only cares for Emma, because Emma is a Squishy. Kade is a reminder of his daughter marrying an outsider. D;
For now, I'd love to work on a resolution for Callan. I believe she'll be able to mend the relationship with Bate and Ellie. Les' story will be a bit more complicated. And I'm honestly not so sure if he'll ever change.
The original illustration is located in this doodle dump. I decided to change it to this one because the story didn't really focus on the incident with Emma and Kade. Also, the original drabble is located here. I was never satisfied with it, so it sat in limbo for many years before I passed it along to my friend with an updated summary. And, as you can clearly see, they made the story sooooo much richer and emotional!! 8D
-
The amazing literature written for this illustration was commissioned by my good friend, Dogblog. (dA- Shadowrealmprincess) ^v^ It's always a huge honor to work with her~ This was a beefy project I had for them, and she absolutely delivered.
Species © Nintendo/ HAL Laboratory
Interpreted characters created from said species © Rhylem
Interpreted characters created from said species © Rhylem
