#fc!drabble

[spellswordkhint]

remember them (a drabble)

[2. Aiding another through their grief.]

This was the first time in ten years that Khint had seen Captain Minette. 

The man had been his commanding officer some years back, a giant with a booming voice and a gentle hand. His squad had wholeheartedly respected their stalwart captain– looked up to him. Khint had been no different, the wide-eyed trainee that he had been. He was the man they could turn to no matter the problem, who pushed them along when they were overwhelmed. This was one of the men who had taught Khint to be the person he was today. 

He had seemed so invincible then. Unflappable. 

Seeing the same man with bowed head and shaking shoulders was sobering. 

Khint quietly sent his children off with a coworker, neither Jackal nor Amira questioning why. When their father looked that somber, it would have been cruel to. Besides, they’d both seen how Khint’s gaze had wandered to a man in the crowd, how his posture had become military straight. He obviously had something to do. 

And he did, approaching his old captain with a hand on the shoulder and murmured condolences. The board had lit up moments ago with a face-- Andrew Minette, a boy who looked so much like his father. There wasn’t a question as to why the captain was there. 

They both wished they had met under better circumstances. That it hadn’t been at a memorial, at a mourning for a loved one, at a reminder of mortality and human error. But, as the captain reminded, there could be time for that later. For now, it was time for such things. 

“A time and a place for everything.” Khint was mimicking Captain Minette’s words from years ago, earning a nod. 

“A time and a place.” 

Khint held him as he cried. A time for questions to be asked, but for there to be answered. Why was it time for Andrew to die? No parent should have to outlive their child. He’d told him not to go to Aurora, it was dangerous. He’d told him to come home after the booms began. But Andrew had stayed. And now he was gone. 

All that Khint could do was rub soothing circles on his back. He could understand to a certain point. He was a parent too. But in the end, he hoped he would never fully understand the captain’s pain at all.

[spellswordkhint]

REMEMBER THEM | A drabble, perhaps? :D

[1. Preparing for the Memorial.] 

The Khint household was strangely quiet. Usually, despite there only being three people who lived there, the home was filled with a low hum of noise, of clattering pots and of television chatter, of conversation and the pattering of feet. Today, it was just... quiet. 

The television was off. Any talking was done in low tones, whispers and murmurs that didn’t seem able to pierce the air, even with Jackal’s harsh voice. There was stagnation in the place of energy. Solemn was probably the best word for it. 

The family had spent the morning preparing to head for the memorial, eating a light breakfast and getting washed up like normal before getting dressed. Such routine wasn’t particularly a difficult task, nor time consuming, but everything felt slower today, heavier. 

Amira had picked out her own dress. It was a muted, light blue, down over her knees, and tripped with white. Khint had frowned and nearly scolded her on it, it wasn’t quite something of mourning. Amira had stopped him, shaking her head. One of her preschool teachers had been caught in a boom. This was her favorite dress. Besides, she figured, if those who had died could see them all mourn, they would probably like something cute and subdued over something boring and subdued. Khint couldn’t argue with that logic. 

Jackal had gone through half of his wardrobe before giving up and going to Khint for help. None of his clothing was quite good enough for a memorial, he complained. Nothing special enough. Khint had sat him down, and went through his clothing. A button up shirt and some slacks were eventually chosen, finished off with one of Khint’s own ties. Jackal seemed satisfied, relaxing with a sigh. Something about not disappointing “his folks”. 

Khint has simply decided on a suit. He had many, and it was appropriate. Something the media could see him in, and something somber enough for the occasion. There had been good people who had died in the last month. They at least deserved that much. 

The three managed to get out the door not long after. Even with a rented pod, it would take a while to get to the park. At least it would... give them some time.

[seekerofstarlight-blog]

Memento Mori

Memorials were stupid. Funerals, they were stupid too. And most of all, death, death was stupid.

Ephemera couldn’t figure out why Kilim had insisted on a stupid triad-wide ceremony. He said it was to honor those who had passed in the past month: from terrorism, from the booms, from all of those little peculiarities that had cut lives short. He said it was to put those things in the past, to look forward to the future. All that Ephemera could see, though, was show boating. Nothing had been done to solve the booms, or the source of the assassination attempt-- or what had been done was useless at best. The senator was just a weak little man trying to look like he could do something about such trying times.

...Alright, maybe that was a little harsh, on reflection. What could someone do about the people who had died? The best that anyone could do was to promise that no one else would die meaninglessly, and try to carry on as best they could. That was what Kilim was trying to do, really. It was to mourn, to move on-- 

It wouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did. Ephemera looked out the window from where he sat curled on his old, vinyl chair, knees tucked up to his chin, and at the city below. Aurora looked empty-- hollow. With many clubs and bars closed, not many people had reason to be out in the early morning, and despite the regulated weather and projected blue skies, things seemed grey. It made him feel sick. Aurora of all places wasn’t supposed to mourn, it was a city of now, of lights and life, that was why he’d chosen to live there. But for this one damned day, that didn’t seem to be the case. 

He didn’t want to go to the stupid memorial. His gaze, more overcast than sun, turned away from the outside as he tucked his face into his knees. But if he didn’t go, his friends would judge him: what sort of unfeeling freak was he, not going to mourn the dead? He didn’t want to leave his apartment. But he didn’t want to stay, either, it was cramped and cold with just him in it. He wanted to be alone. But he knew if he was, he would fall into a spiral again, just like the last time. That had been when he’d still been in Meridian, when he’d been in a darker place, when he’d been seeking any way out.

This was the absolute worst, and he didn’t know what to do. He never knew what to do when he got this way, and did it hurt. There was no way around it: he would have to go, have to try to stay positive and not think about-- 

His com buzzed, lighting up with a message. 

Ephemera forced himself to uncurl and pick up the device, screen glowing softly in the dark. He hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights when he’d woken up this morning. That had been hours ago, and the light was hurting his eyes. He squinted, then smiled, relaxing. Prosper. Just the person he needed to hear from.

Good morning, how are you doing?

Not as bubbly as normal, but he could work with it. Just knowing she was thinking about him was good enough.

Doing fine! Just doing some early-morning stretches, y’know. ^w^ You? 

You know, hanging in there. You’re going to the memorial today, right?

Ephemera paused, faltering slightly as his fingers hovered above the keys. 

Yeah, I guess. Do I have a choice? Haha

That would have to do. Hopefully he sounded cheerful enough. Normal enough.

Well, you do, technically. I’m going with my mom, just the two of us.

Of course she was. Prosper and her mother seemed to be all about these sorts of things. He wouldn’t blame her, he couldn’t. Knowing them, they would be there bright and early, dressed to the subdued and modest nines. 

Well, have fun.

Ephemera bit his lip, worrying it between his teeth as he thought about his next message. 

I don’t think it’s supposed to be fun, Eph.

He laughed a little, but it was strained. Of course not. 

You know what I meant... Hey, Pros? 

He stopped typing all together after that, staring at the screen, fingers always poised to type, but never writing a word. 

Yeah? 

A few moments passed. 

Eph? You still there?

Eph? 

You’re worrying me. 

Fifteen minutes had passed before he finally responded.

Sorry, spaced out. It’s nothing. Never mind.

He would leave it at that. It had been a stupid thought. A stupid question that gnawed at his mind since the memorial’s announcement. She didn’t need to hear it, or try to answer. It wasn’t anything she would need to worry about. 

But it still bugged him. 

...Would she mourn for him, when he was gone? Because if so, he didn’t want her to. 

[spellswordkhint]

Troubled Kid

“...Don’t you have anywhere else to go after school?” 

A month. It had been little over a month since this boy had started showing up in his office, having been cited for disruptive behavior and disrespect by every school official possible. It happened almost every day-- he’d be walked into the office, sat down, and be nagged by whoever brought him in. Then he and Khint would stare at each other for a while, and he would leave. 

After a week’s worth of visits, the staring turned into talking. After another week’s worth, the boy stopped leaving, only departing when the headmaster himself did so. After yet another, the visits turned from compulsory to voluntary, the boy just walking in without need of escort. It was odd, although not unwelcome. 

It was only now that Khint was asking why. 

“Huh? Why? You want me gone, Chief?” 

Chief-- it was something the boy had started calling him. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t mind it. 

“No, that’s not it. I’m just curious.” 

There was a bit of an awkward silence as his student fidgeted, like he was struggling for an answer. 

“Well, uh. Don’t really have a place to go. Me and my folks don’t really get on.” He frowned, looking down. “Er... well, me and my adopted folks, anyway. Not sure what happened to my parents. I think they changed their minds about havin’ a kid or somethin’.” 

Khint was silent, unsure of how to respond to that. He was used to hearing about students’ plights, more so than the counselor, but that never meant he knew how to handle it. 

“So... yeah, this is the only place I’ve got. At least you give a shit about me. Or you’re paid to.” 

More quiet, and the boy started getting nervous. 

“I mean-- I, uh, shit... I’m just gonna go now.” The student stood up, tugging at his clothing awkwardly. They didn’t fit him as well as they should, and were frayed. 

“...Wait.” 

He froze, looking at Khint in an unsure manner. 

“...You’re welcome in my office whenever you like, Jack. And if you do not want to return home, you are welcome in mine, you understand?” 

Jack’s eyes became wide, near teary. 

“Y’...y’really mean that, Chief?” 

Khint nodded solidly. 

“Every word. Now. How about you sit back down, and I’ll help you on your homework.” 

“Yessir!”

[seekerofstarlight-blog]

Voicemails

Ephemera stared at his tablet, the small-clip board like machine lit up with a notification. One missed call. One message. He recognized the number, but didn’t have it registered as a contact. Although he had a lot of contacts registered, this one would remain nameless.

He sat down, the old, checker patterned arm chair making a soft sound that was equal parts creaking and compressed cushion as it bared his weight. One message. He would have to check it, or it would blare on his screen until the end of time. That would be annoying. It would be reminding, guilting. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to hear what it had to say.

But he put in an earbud and touched the icon for his voicemail. The audio file played.

Ephemera? It’s Mom! Oh please pick up. We heard about the booms. Are you alright?

There was a brief pause, then a sigh.

It’s not safe, you know? Being all alone in Aurora. Especially now. Your father and I have been talking, and we think you should come home. Your room is how you left it, and its much safer here in Meridian—

He pressed stop on the voice message. He’d had just about enough of that.

Ephemera heaved a sigh. Well, that was expected. Any excuse to bring him home. It was so stifling... He swore, she only called him when…  He looked out the window to the bright neon outside to the sparkling lights.  

“Why did she call at all…?”

[spellswordkhint]

Times of Trouble

“Stay inside today, Amira.” 

“But Dad--” 

“No buts.” Khint’s voice was harder than normal. Harsher. It didn’t leave room for argument, and Amira knew it, quieting and staring at the floor. She didn’t understand why he wasn’t letting her her go and play with Lilla, the girl next door, or letting her walk to the corner store to pick up more of her favorite cookies. He wasn’t saying why either, and it would be useless to ask. She knew her father well enough to realize that. He was in one of his moods. 

So she sighed and nodded obediently, trudging up the stairs. Her father always had a good reason for his protective moods, she knew. Whether it was because of a recent trip to the hospital, or a threat of any kind, it was good intentioned, if not stifling. He didn’t mean to be intimidating. But... he seemed more on edge today than any of the times before. The set of his brow was too furrowed, his shoulders too rigid. It was almost scary, if she could be afraid of her father. 

...Oh well. She would just have to play video games inside instead. Her father knew best about these things.

--

Khint collapsed in his chair, head in his hands and eyes fixed in front of him. An attack on the Cipher. Was nothing sacred? Nothing safe? He sighed heavily, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to relax. It was likely that an attack on the Cipher didn’t mean that everyone in the triad was in danger, but still, he was shaken. The NDC didn’t seem to know what to do, the Cipher was no longer safe... He almost wished he’d never heard about this situation, especially from his old friends NDC. 

Amira would have to stay inside for the day. It would make him feel better, knowing that she was safe, knowing where she was. It was unfair. The Cipher had even told him so. But if anything happened to her... well, nothing would happen to her. He would make sure of that. He would let the triad crumble around him before he let anything happened to Amira. 

[spellswordkhint]

Fated, Finally

The day that Khint received his little red envelope was spent sitting at home, staring at the embossed outside like it would rear up and bite him. For such a small, flimsy thing, it felt impossibly heavy in his hands, more so than his first stun-gun, more so than his NDC diploma. It was just a piece of paper, he told himself. A piece of paper with a name, and probably contact information. The same piece of paper some other person would get with his number, address, and email. He didn’t have to do anything drastic with it. He just had to look at it, and possibly make a phone call, if he was feeling brave enough. 

He was not currently even feeling brave enough to open the envelope to look. Sure, he could take down someone armed without hesitating, but opening a fating envelope was a bit too much for his heart. If he didn’t open the envelope soon, he knew, Amira would come home from playing with her friend next door and open it for him. And that seemed more mortifying than anything. Anyone could be who he was fated with. If it was anyone strange, if he opened it himself, he could keep it quiet from Amira, at least. If she opened it...

It took him some time, but Khint sighed and finally nudged the lip of the envelope open with his thumb, taking great care not to rip it. It took more time for him to lift the flap of paper up and pull the message out.

Kell Kilim. 

Well, he supposed that could have been much, much worse. He knew Kell, distantly. He was a member of Senator Kilim’s court, after all, so they’d met. Besides, Amira was oddly addicted to Neon Goss, even the late showings of it. He often had to make her go to sleep, or shut off her tablet completely, especially when they said something she had to ask about. So it was a plus that he knew who she was. And, to his knowledge, she wasn’t an unkind person-- Ugh. He didn’t know. Maybe it wasn’t quite such a good thing that he knew who she was already at all. What was the basis of the fating anyway? 

Maybe he was overthinking it. Fating wasn’t just romantic. Maybe the Cipher thought they would be good friends. Or something. Fating wasn’t even a sure-fire thing. If it worked out, it worked out. If it didn’t, nothing had to come from it.

...Why did he agree to get fated. He didn’t know what to do at all with all of this. He continued to stare, this time at the gold ink. Well, he had her address and phone code. He at least owed her a call, if she didn’t call first. He looked down to the device on the table next to him. Just one call. After he was more steeled in his resolve, he could manage that.

[spellswordkhint]

The Trials of Single-Parenthood

The time of the fating festival came and went the same every year, at least, that was what it seemed like. Hundreds, if not thousands of people, flocked to find their match, the masses ranging from excited young women to older men who had yet to find their sweet hearts on their own. To be honest, Khint found it all a bit nauseating. He didn’t dislike romance, that wasn’t the issue. The sentiment of finding someone to share your life with in one way or another was appealing, but something about the entire experience of fating... well, the implications and process made him a bit unnerved. 

But that was possibly because of the crowds. Or his discomfort with emotional issues in general. Children were simple. Adults were emotionally all over the place, and hard to deal with. 

This year’s fating wasn’t going to be any different. Khint would avoid the crowds, stay home, and possibly take Amira to an event or two that had very little to do with the actual fating. Last year one of her teachers had gotten fated, and there had been a party for that, but that was as close to the true festivities he would get. Normally, this behavior would result in pouting and whining from Amira. Her disappointment that her father wouldn’t be looking for love, or at least a friend, usually waned quickly. She knew how stubborn he could be, and that she couldn’t get him to budge.

...Somehow, this year was different. She was persistent this year.

“Just once, daddy? The nurse told me she would be going this year.” Amira proffered for about the tenth time since they started dinner. Khint didn’t know why she was so focused on the school nurse-- rather, the head of the school nurses-- and getting them together. While the woman was pretty, and very kind, and Amira did like her quite a bit, Khint barely knew her on a personal level. Children could get the wildest ideas. 

“No, Amira. I told you, I have to--”

Amira interrupted him abruptly... she never interrupted. “You get time off, you don’t have to do anything.” She pouted, fixing him with the sternest look she could muster. “You’re just scared.” 

There was a drawn out silence where the two stared at each other. Amira, of course, was the first to crack, lip wobbling very slightly. She hadn’t meant to be so harsh and hurt her father’s feelings. Although, it was hard to tell exactly what he was thinking with that expression. “I’m sorry, daddy, I just...”

Khint sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose, looking down at the table as he leaned an elbow on it. There was no getting out of that argument, was there? Especially with an expression like that. After all, maybe he was scared. 

“...Alright, alright. Just once. And there’s no promises as to what may happen.” 

Amira lit up, although still teary from her prior worry. “Don’t worry, daddy. Whoever gets fated with you must be the best sort of person!” 

That sort of logic was going to get him killed. Or worse. His luck tended to be... interesting.