Whumper having a bad day so they go and vent to their well conditioned pet Whumpee and cuddle them. Whumpee just sits their and listens silently, trying to give them the comfort they want right now.
It also means "straightforward" and "simple" and "honesty and frank", as a name especially; and I believe the 'repair' is also more of the sense of 'to be corrected', 'to be set straight'.
And what does Nao have to do with Tenko's (presumably) original quirk? Unless you mean in the sense that he inherited her supposed possible healing quirk? The way she inherited her parent's implied quirks of "Reality" (Mako) and "Thousand Ferry"? And the way Nana has a flying quirk because her name contains the kanji for "green vegetables" and Kotarou's name is "thick bright arc" also reflect his quirk?
Like, it's not impossible! But it's rather far-fetched. What is that >_> supposed to mean.
Alright, so it’s not actually Garrick’s bday (he won’t tell me when it actually is), but I wrote a little something about it. As context, he just Alderon that it was his birthday (he’s turning 27) and Alderon kinda responded weirdly, and then disappeared on him. This is before the deal ended.
I’m tagging the people I have on my turning series tag list. If you’d rather I not tag you for other things, please let me know.
“Alderon?” Garrick called, leaning as far out the manor door as he could while keeping both feet inside. “Alderon?”
He waited for a moment, eyes straining to catch any flicker of movement. When none was forthcoming, his frown deepened. He bit at his lip, trying to decide if he should risk stepping out of the manor. If Alderon wasn’t answering, he was either too far out to hear—which Garrick thought unlikely—or had his nose stuck in a book somewhere, completely deaf to the world around him.
Or in trouble.
Garrick shook his head at the automatic worry that surged in his gut. It was far too early to suspect foul play. And even if that was the case, he should be hopeful, not worried. Alderon’s death would mean his freedom.
The thought didn’t relieve his tension. Staring out at the courtyard, Garrick wished he’d catch sight of a familiar cloak, or hear a deep voice answer his call.
A stiff breeze made him shiver and finally close the door. He returned to the ballroom and sat on the steps, still frowning.
His only option was to wait. If Alderon wasn’t back by sunset, he reasoned, he should at least check the courtyard. Alderon couldn’t fault him for looking within the manor’s property. Stepping beyond the gates was out of the question, so hopefully Alderon was just around the corner. If he wasn’t…
Garrick sighed. He didn’t know what he’d do. Alderon wasn’t the most comforting presence, but the manor without him was a lonely place. And if Alderon was hurt or dead somewhere, Garrick didn’t know how he’d even figure that out. The thought made the knot in his stomach tighten.
A creak echoed down the hall. Garrick half stood at the sound of the manor door closing, heart thumping in his ears. When Alderon appeared, cloak and all, at the entrance to the ballroom, the worry in Garrick’s stomach dissipated. He bore no injuries and held a book in his right hand.
“There you are,” Garrick said, adopting a relaxed smile despite the remaining tension in his shoulders.
Alderon blinked. “I heard you call. What is the matter?”
“Nothing. I just didn’t know where you were. You’ve been gone for hours.”
“I was in the woods. If there is nothing you need me for, I will return there.”
“Wait,” Garrick called as Alderon made to leave. Alderon raised an eyebrow at him. Was it his imagination, or did he seem a little off? His answer was certainly more clipped than Garrick had expected. Garrick frowned and started to close the distance. He stopped, surprised, when Alderon took a step back. “Why are you reading out there?”
Alderon shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. “I simply felt like it.”
“You’ve never done that before.” When that didn’t get him an answer, he continued, “Can I go with you? I’d like to spend some time outside.”
“I do not think that is a good idea. You should stay here and take some time for yourself.”
“I’ve had hours to myself,” Garrick pointed out. “And I don’t really like it. This place is too big for one person.” He frowned again and stepped forward. “What’s really going on?”
Alderon hesitated, but then squared his shoulders. “It is nothing. I simply thought you would enjoy some time alone.”
“If I’d wanted time alone I’d just spend it in my room. Besides, you’ve never worried about that before. Why are you being so weird?”
“I am not,” he insisted. “I just…” He stopped, face scrunching in a way that told Garrick he was gathering his thoughts. His eyes darted to and fro, not quite meeting his. “I merely thought that…as it is your birthday…the best gift I could give you was my absence.”
Garrick blinked, and blinked again. The notion seemed so ridiculous—so ironic—that he wanted to laugh out loud. But he could tell from Alderon’s pointed look over his shoulder that he was being quite serious.
“You don’t have to get me a gift,” Garrick blurted out, not quite sure he trusted himself to say anything else without stirring the tight knot of anger that had formed in his gut. He breathed in, and out, forcing it to loosen. Any missteps around Alderon would only incur his wrath; besides which, he didn’t see any point in arguing that the best gift Alderon could give him would be to let him go. “I wouldn’t even really call that a gift.”
“You should want to get away from me.”
Garrick shook his head. “You say that, but I don’t. Not really. I’m not afraid of you, Alderon, and I don’t hate you, either.”
Alderon froze, and Garrick mirrored him. As per usual, his mouth had moved before his thoughts caught up with it, and he’d said something beyond foolish, something he hadn’t quite realized was true. But it was. At first, Alderon had been intimidating, and scary, and Garrick had hated him; For his cruelty, his indifference, and his constant reminders that Garrick would die, sooner rather than later, by his own hand. But as those dropped off—as the mask slipped—what lay underneath was no more terror inducing than what lay underneath any other person’s outward appearance. Alderon acted scary and in control, and, like most forces of nature, Garrick was sure he was those things. But he was also a man who read books in his library, whose quiet cries in his sleep often woke Garrick from his own slumber, and whose touch was exceedingly gentle for a vampire about to bite his victim.
Knowing all of that, Garrick couldn’t hate or fear him. He’d even admit to enjoying Alderon’s presence as much as he might anyone else’s.
Well, maybe not aloud.
“Then you are a fool,” Alderon said at last, eyes flashing red as he finally met his gaze.
Garrick shrugged, even as the word stabbed needles into his spine. “Then I’m a fool,” he agreed. “It doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t ask for you to leave, and that I didn’t have much fun while you were gone. I’m a people person, and you’re the only people this person has.” He smirked at the disgusted curl of Alderon’s lip as he said it; proud, at least, that he’d gotten some other reaction beyond Alderon’s dramatic bullshit.
It was Alderon’s turn to blink at him, before running a tense hand through his hair. Garrick wondered how he managed to do that every time without getting caught. “I suppose I should have asked if you would like to be left to yourself. I just did not know what else I could give you that would not seem…laughably pathetic.”
“Why are you so obsessed with getting me something? It’s insulting.”
Garrick winced because, again, his mouth had run away with him. He squared his shoulders, though. It was out there now, and Alderon really deserved to know what he thought. Even if it meant some anger.
Surprisingly, however, Alderon looked away instead of calling him out on the blunt words. “I figured it might be. But to ignore it seemed even more foolhardy.”
“Ignore what?” Garrick asked, with both the sinking feeling and the hope that he already knew.
“That you are a life,” Alderon said, reaching out as if to touch, but stopping just short of doing so. He clenched his hand instead, casting his gaze upon as if it were a worm he’d stepped on instead of a part of him. “A young one, with hopes and dreams and…events to celebrate.” The hand fell to his side with a slump of shoulders that made Alderon seem small and defeated. “Not just some faceless person who has crossed my path, but a man I know the name and…age of.”
“So I actually seem like a person to you,” Garrick said flatly. The hard knot of anger had returned, twisting and curling in his gut until his hands became fists. He wanted to see some kind of hope in this situation—that Alderon really was as compassionate and loathe to hurt as he seemed—but his words just made Garrick want to lash out. “And that scares you, so you ran away instead of facing it.”
“Yes,” Alderon said simply, calmly, even though a slight twitch told Garrick he’d hit a little too close to home. “I needed time to think, and I thought you would enjoy my time away. I see now I have misjudged.”
Garrick just barely bit back a swift retort. It took more than a breath to calm him down this time; he wanted to scream until his lungs gave out, to shake Alderon until he realized how utterly dense he was. He needed to stay calm, though. Coaxing out Alderon’s compassion was an intensive, laborious endeavor, one crucial to his survival, and he wasn’t about to lose months of progress just because Alderon had no tact to speak of.
At last, he folded his arms, if only to have somewhere to put his frustration. Looking to the side was easier than meeting Alderon’s gaze head-on, so he glared at the floor, and forced his voice to stay even and steady as he spoke. “So, what now?”
“I believe I will leave that choice up to you.”
That made him look around, eyebrows shooting up. “Me?”
Alderon tilted his head. “You do not have many choices in this situation. Perhaps a better gift is to give you as many as I can.”
Garrick’s eyebrows rose even higher. He was so stunned by the offer that he couldn’t even find the words to remind Alderon that giving him a “gift” in this situation undermined the sentiment.
“Though I suppose I should not call it a gift,” Alderon continued, as if he’d read Garrick’s mind. His eyes darted to the side and back again. “Simply consider it a part of the deal, if that is easier.”
Garrick barked out a laugh. He couldn’t help it. Despite Alderon’s cold nature, he really did have a flair for the dramatic. And, even though anger still churned in his gut, Garrick had to admit that as roundabout as it was, Alderon was trying.
“What?” Alderon growled, shooting him a glare.
Garrick caught his breath and shook his head. “Nothing. That’s just not what I expected you to say.”
Alderon sniffed. “Well, either way, it is up to you. I can return to the woods until nightfall, or I can stay.”
“How about,” Garrick suggested softly, “I do what I want to do, and you do what you want to do, and we do it together? That way it’ll be like any other day.”
The tension in Alderon’s body seemed to leave him all at once, and Garrick smiled. Neither of them wanted to pretend, but that didn’t mean things had to be unpleasant, either. Giving Alderon a way out of his wrongful sense of obligation seemed like the best choice.
“If you wish it, then that is what we’ll do.” He gestured to the rest of the room. “After you, Sir Knight.”
Arty's green pupils are from its creator's psiionics, its eyes are naturally pure black. More like voids than eyes, really, but don't look too closely at them if they don't have pupils. You might feel a little dizzy.
