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I am who I am [Phoenix]
IP: 67.81.14.55
Posted on July 30, 2015 at 06:45:47 AM by Brae


Brae came quietly in the door to where his mother lived. Technically it would be his home as well, though he no longer thought of it as that. Not that his family was unkind, or that he did not love them. He just felt a need to support himself, to find his own way, and his own place. But he had come back. Largely because he had one question, that he had not really thought to ask before. Yet he felt he deserved to know the truth now. He was old enough. He did not share much of his mother's looks. Part of him spit on his need to know: if the man could not stick around long enough to acknowledge his son, what did Brae owe him? But a softer part wished there was a plausible explanation. Maybe he did not know. Maybe his mother had never told the man.

"Mom. I would like to speak to you." His serious gaze and tone made him seem older than his fourteen years, no emotion creeping to the surface to wreck the façade. He paused a moment, not quite sure how to broach the subject. He assumed it was not her fondest memory, or else he surely should have heard about it. He pulled out a seat for himself and her, an indication the conversation might take a while. She probably already knew what was on his mind, given she had Telepathy, and wondered not for the first time why he had not inherited that power from her, or at least her Mind Blocking ability. No wonder he felt so few words were necessary to give his opinion or let others know what he was thinking. Or perhaps he would have been naturally reserved anyways.

Rerir kept quiet, tucked in a large jacket pocket. He thought the line of intended questioning a bit dull, but had agreed to keep quiet and self occupied on the promise they would look for crayfish later. Besides, he had done are large amount of exploring and swimming that morning. Once they were both seated and quiet, Brae started again. "I think I'm old enough" he starts, pausing only long enough to think how he should continue "that I should know who my father is. Or at least some information about him." He is not prone for wheedling or begging for facts, but wants to give an easier way to answer (if such can be found) if she for some reason does not know the name. Or cannot bring herself to tell Brae.

Brae resists the urge to kick his feet back and forth under his chair, realizing it would make him look childish, as he was still small. Fidgeting would reduce the tension but may not give him the answers he desires. He recognizes the need to make his mother want to cooperate, since she can choose to tell him nothing or even lie to him. How would he know? He wonders, not for the first time, why she has not broached this subject with him before. Sure, Evelyn and Hels may be too young as yet, but Brae was starting to be a young man, and had been for at least a year now. In his terms, this was a long time, given it was almost 10% of his remembered life. He had yet to fathom the length of life which others clung to, or how a childhood could pass in the blink of an eye.


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