“Still with the first-name basis, ‘Delia? Or I suppose you want me to add the ‘Cor’ in the beginning?” He hadn’t chosen the name for his daughter, but he had no right to bicker about liking it or disliking it because, well, he hadn’t spent those formative years with her. They weren’t a hugging family, not like he was with his sister, and that saddened him. But he had to move on from it. Ytel patted the horse, done for the moment, wanting to switch gears to the barn where there was shade. Maybe then she wouldn’t glare at him so much. “Did your mom ever show you how to milk a cow? It’s rather therapeutic, actually. Would you like to join me?” He was trying to hide his anxiety of wanting to be ‘the good father’ with his one and only daughter – surprise, maybe he had more, but this was the only one he knew by name, what she looked like, who the mother was, etc – by shrugging it off almost as if it were a game. It always came across as cold to Delia, but he never meant it that way. He loved her, dearly, more than he’d ever loved her mother. That wasn’t love, that was infatuation, passion and curiosity. That was short-term. But even if Delia wasn’t in the center of his life – that would be Irma, perhaps – he still loved her.
He wanted a daughter. Maybe it took him too long to realize this, maybe he didn’t deserve her or her son or any part of her life, but damnit if he wouldn’t go down without a fight. He’d lost enough in his life. Delia didn’t even know about Johannes, only about their parents. She thought Irma was his only sibling. If only. At eleven, Ytel lost his twin brother and he’d never been the same since. Of course he’d grown a lot since those years, centuries ago, but was it something one could ever get over? Like losing a parent. Funny how he didn’t see the similarities between what he was doing to her, and what had already happened to him ages ago.
Before Delia could open her mouth, Ytel gestured her to follow him. He handed the reins to her, a shadow of a grin on his lips. When was the last time she had touched a horse? “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he hushed at the beast, since he smelled strangers. “Bill here is named after the Lord of the Rings pony. He’s not a pony as you can see, but he’s the same color and his mane is even the same shade of blonde. Like ours, almost.” She wasn’t blind, she could see. “He even has the white nose. Same breed, but I can’t for the life of me remember the names.” In any language, he thought. He led Delia to the shed to put away the comb and lock Bill in the stable, then made his way to the cattle. It was surprising that so long ago, animals spread the plague just like humans but now he was working side by side with them, not anxious about that, at least.
Delia rolled her eyes. “Delia is fine, I don’t give a shit. And yeah, you’ll be on first name basis until you start acting like my dad. Sound fair?” She shook her head, though it wasn’t it answer to his question at all, and followed him. “You know, she didn’t teach me how to milk a cow. Her thing was more murder and inflicting fear on the masses. You know, psychopath things.” Maybe it was unfair of her, to be so angry at him for things done by her mother. Maybe. Or maybe it was fair because he had left her there, because he had hardly bothered to check on her, because he was showing this horse more compassion than he had ever dared to show her.
“Yeah, Bill fits him. Did you name him or did Rod?” Or Nolyn, or Eden. God, how had Ytel managed to wiggle his way into this family? The truth was, she wasn’t only concerned for herself with him being present. And she was concerned for herself, she was scared that she would let herself depend on him only for him to vanish again, just like always. But she was worried for Luci; her son had already suffered so much loss. There was more too because Nolyn had been there for her in ways that no one else ever had or would. Thus his family was her family, even Mallory who she had yet to meet at all, and she would be damned if she let her father let any of them down, especially little Eden.
It was so weird, so eery, standing here exchanging pleasantries with this man. Oh, it wasn’t that he had never been around at all, or that he hadn’t cared in the least. He had shown up now and again, had remembered a few birthdays (though she was pretty sure that he wouldn’t be able to cite to her right now), and had never wanted to forget her altogether (that she could prove). But he had left her under the control of a psychopath, had let her feel responsible for reigning in her crazy mother, and had, in the end, allowed that to lead to her being put in a position where she had shot her mother in the line of duty. Crazy or not, evil or not, she was the only family that Delia had ever had consistently until Luci and his father. The thought brought a pang to her heart that she couldn’t quite help.
