Day 6: Childhood
I know I'm already horribly behind on @arkhangelssky's OCtober, but I'm determined to catch back up to some degree today!!! Gonna start with a bit of character study into Moloch's childhood, especially since I don't plan on it coming up much if at all during The Flock. Enjoy!
"Moloch, if you ask when we can go back out again this week, I'll make you stay here with Grandpa."
The boy sighed heavily, back pressed against the front of his father's desk. The study was big and lavishly decorated, and while there were plenty of reasonable seating options, Moloch found his favorite place in the room was seated on the scratchy grey and black rug in the center of it. It also gained extra points for being somewhere that he shouldn't sit, that infuriated his aunts whenever they had company come from outside the commune.
"I don't get it. Why don't we just live out there with normal people? Everyone here is so dumb." he huffed, not bothering to hide his annoyance at the situation as he began picking at the carpet tufts. The sound of his father shifting in his chair had him stop, Moloch instead quickly smoothing over the place that he had begun to fray. The last time he had been caught doing it, one of his aunts had punished him with the switch across his hands, leaving welts on the skin that still hadn't healed fully.
"The Flock has been in the family for multiple generations. In order to profit from it, we need to remain as figureheads. I was like you once too, Moloch. You'll understand once you get older."
There it was, his least favorite phrase: You'll understand when you get older. It mocked him, the implication that he was too young and stupid to understand simple concepts. Frankly, Moloch was sure that in terms of ten-year-olds, he was in the top percentile in intelligence. At least high enough that his family could stop treating him like a baby, or worse, like one of the members of the cult they ran.
"I think I'm old enough." he muttered, to which his father only chuckled softly in reply.
"So did I when I was your age. My father, your grandfather, proved me otherwise by putting me in charge of things for a week. By the third day, I finally gave up and he beat me for failing. I realized that the beating was far less of a punishment than what would have happened had I continued trying to prove him wrong. I wasn't ready, and neither are you."
Moloch stood up, turning to face his father, hands pressed against the surface of the desk. "Let me be in charge for a week. I can do better than you did. I know I can, and then you can stop acting like I'm a kid!"
The man grinned at his son, amusement written on his face but something cold in his eyes. It was something Moloch admired about his father, the way he was capable of looking so friendly until you met his eyes. Moloch had tried to practice it a few times in the bathroom mirror, but he simply couldn't figure out how to look as if he cared.
"Moloch, I know you're capable. Can we settle this by agreeing to have you supervise the next ritual?"
That piqued his interest. "Can I even stay for the end of it?" The few times he had tried to sneak in and observe the sacrifice, one of his obnoxious aunts had managed to spot him and pull him away before the knife had met skin.
"If you promise not to be sick, then yes, you can watch the whole thing." His father bookmarked and closed the book he had been writing in, a worn, leather-bound copy of the Flock's scripture that the man made notes in for sermons. "There's one scheduled for next week. If you really sit down and focus with your tutoring from your grandfather, then I might even let you lead the chant."
While the chanting aspect was far less appealing, Moloch nodded in agreement, not wanting to lose out on the viewing as a whole. "I can try, I guess."
"Good. Go find your grandfather then, Moloch. I have a meeting in a bit, so I need to prepare." His father stood, making a shooing motion out of the room.
The annoyance bubbled back up, but Moloch bit it back and chose to leave obediently, but not in the direction of the living room where his grandfather was probably reading, but instead his bedroom. He had his own research to do if he was going to be prepared for the ritual, and this would be way more interesting than anything else the Flock had to offer in the next week.