Private The Docks Dinner for Two, Drama for Three

[Tanya Keltoi]

All she could do was squeeze the younger todd’s shoulder as he gave vent to his grief. There were no words she suspected could be of comfort and so Tanya gave none, only offering a low, comforting hum from deep in her chest as she rocked gently.

Daniil’s confirmation only seemed to pull her thoughts further awry. There came the immediate kick to reject and insist that Caden was using the most hurtful scenario he could conjure simply to injure Daniil for whatever reason; the creeping certainty that the marten was speaking a truth he had been holding on to for years. How old could he even have been at the time for a beast of Daniil’s age to have never known? The heat was prickling beneath her fur again, a restlessness shown in the rapid twitch of the end of her tailbrush. It sat at odds with what her recent words had unlocked within herself, shifting of acceptance towards the transition between Armina and Vaelora. The aunt in her would always grieve her niece; the mother in her began to understand.

When this was over she was going to extend the offer once again to discuss what memories she had of his mother from their adventuring days and perhaps learn more about Vaelora in the process.

“Alright, alright,” she soothed, “first thing is you focus on yourself for tonight. Get yourself some rest and you can work out what you want to do in the morning.” One paw reached for the internal pocket of her jacket and her eyes focused on the act. It helped protect from betraying any intentions beneath what she was about to offer. “I’ve got the key here for my offices: if you want somewhere to at least rest for the night you can do worse’n have the privacy there. There’s me ketch and the BlackShip, ‘course, but you’ll have more beasts to answer to before you can settle in. All three are options. I can pop over and grab some bits for you, jus’ tell me what you’d like me to bring back.” Come on, give me a reason.

 

[Daniil Ryalor]

Daniil quietly tried to brush the tears from his cheeks with his paw as he considered the option. "I... It'd really appreciate that. Going to your office," he clarified, looking to his great-aunt. "I really just need a change of clothes, and..." He hesitated before adding, "and the knife, if you can find it. You'll know if when you see it; it has a stain on it that has never come out. Not that I really tried," he admitted, his gaze dropping to look at his keees as his footpaws dangled over the water. "My dresser is the one on the right-paw side of the bedroom as you come in the door. Oh," he recalled, "and maybe my notebooks too. They'll be in the sitting room on the side table by the window." He looked over at her, his trembling smile a little more stable. "Thank you, Aunt Tanya. I... I'm not okay right now, and I don't think I will be for a while, but I'm better than I was."

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

Relief needed to be pushed down rapidly once given Daniil’s assent. The sweet todd deserved the conversations with Caden to come, but her vengeful imagination was swiftly running to a place she was unwilling to take him, too. Now she was armed with an excuse to scope out the home.

“Good lad.” The sturdy little key caught guttering lantern lights, its metal shining a ruddy copper for just a moment before being pressed into her nephew’s paw. “The offices’re pretty much empty once the sun goes down; only time you’ll get someone at the door it’s an emergency or a runner, both who you can send to the BlackShip.”

A moment passed in silence. Her thumb turned one of the multiple rings she wore until it was upside-down. “You don’t need to thank me, Daniil,” you really won’t want to soon, “I’d hate to think you havin’ to keep all of this to yourself. It’s no small piece of news. As for where you and Caden go from here…give yourself time. Me an’ Jesh had…” He kitnapped my firstborns and got lost somewhere pretending to love me; I’d never felt so betrayed, but there were no fatalities. “...we had some complications over the years. Best thing you can do is give yourself time so’s you don’t do anything stupid.” Even now she at least possessed self-awareness enough to realise the hypocrisy in her words. She gave him a small smile and reached out to tap at the hilt of the weapon he carried. “I do just ‘ave to ask, though…that looks like a Ryalor blade if I ever saw one. Not so far off what my first husband carried. Was that always yours?”

 

[Daniil Ryalor]

Daniil clutched instinctively at the handle of the katana, cradling it like its mere presence gave him comfort. "It was hers," he explained. "My mother, Vaelor- Armin- whoever she really was. Uncle Talinn had it made for her. She named it 'Requiem'; I never really understood why, but I kept it and the name to remember her by. I wanted to be a good prince, like she was a good princess. I guess I've only ever bungled it," he admitted, tears coming to his eyes. "I don't want to bring shame to her memory."

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

Whether it was nostalgia, something deeper, or merely avarice for a shiny new toy Tanya did not disclose, though she gave a wistful sigh as she gazed over Requiem. “I’d always fancied meself one of those,” she said. “Those are rare beautiful things. Tradition’s a nice enough thing in itself, though I’d not know: never had a legacy to carry on, meself. Perhaps that’s why me an’ your uncle can’t see eye to eye on so many things.”

The paw which had tapped the hilt rose now to instead tap Daniil between the tear-damp eyes. “Oi, now, don’t take yourself down that path: I don’t think there’s a single thing you could do to shame ‘er memory. From all I know of you, and it ain’t much, you strike me as kind. That’s one of the rarest commodities in this city to hold on to, but it can’t take you the whole way. You got to trust to standin’ on your own two paws to carry her name forward an’ don’t you buckle for no beast. You manage that and hold to your kindness and you won’t be a good prince, you’ll be one of the best.

“Hear me, though: if you was a pauper with nothin’ to your name but the clothes on your back and mud in your pockets your mum’d be just as proud so long as you’re happy. Maybe you just need to decide what that looks like for yourself.”

 

[Daniil Ryalor]

Daniil looked at his aunt in surprise, then the tears started to flow again. "Thank you, Aunt Tanya," he quietly sobbed. "I... I need some time, I think, to figure out what that means. If you don't mind, though, I... I'd like to hear your stories about my mother, when you're ready to tell them. And I can tell you about her as the mother I knew."

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

Another pat to Daniil’s shoulder, and Tanya had to fight the impulse to ruffle his headfur like she might have her youngest. Maternal instincts aside, she had to remind herself of the todd’s age: she would support him in his pain, but perhaps this was an opportunity for him to find that spine of his own beneath the soft heart. She only hoped he’d find a way to protect that softness from the cynicism of the world.

“Aye, I’d like that a lot. Who knows? Maybe ‘tween us you and me’ll find all those spaces in between Armina and Vaelora, see the whole’ve her. I figure that would do us both some good.” There was still a part of her which wanted to resist; a part of her screaming that this Vaelora was a fiction, a substitute the Ryalors had formed out of fear and obligation to make something palatable out of pain. A roiling discomfort nagged that one bad day and Tanya would become a name scrubbed as clean as Armina’s from history. Tonight had gone some way to soften her resistance towards Vaelora herself, find an appreciation. She’d never be able to know what had transpired, not truly, but she could begin to see her niece in a light more divorced from her own feelings.

That did not go so far as to soothe her intentions.

“Right then, me bucko. You feelin’ alright to get yourself comfy in my office or want to sit ‘ere a while longer? Best you pass me your own key, also: might not be best if I break in to go get your gear.”

 

[Daniil Ryalor]

Daniil sniffled loudly and rubbed at his snout with the back of his paw before getting to his footpaws. "I'll be fine," he promised, not quite meeting his aunt's eyes. He hesitated before spreading his arms slightly, offering her a hug. "Thank you, Aunt Tanya. For... For caring about me. For being here."

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

Though she pursed her lips momentarily though the act of rising to her footpaws, Tanya did not question the nature of fine. Considering all he’d been through she’d be surprised if he was, but provided he was safe she was content. At least if it soothed the sleepless hours to come there was a good bottle of liquor on her desk.

She never had been one for hugs, but age had softened Tox towards them: she readily embraced the younger fox. “’Course. You’re family, Daniil. I ain’t a Ryalor and doubt I’ll ever live up to the standard they expect of one: that’s a weight you need to carry. You can always put that down ‘round me.”

 

[Daniil Ryalor]

Daniil hugged his aunt tightly, or at least as tight as his grip got, which was far from remarkable. He held the embrace for probably a beat longer than was strictly comfortable before letting go, looking slightly abashed and awkward as he averted his gaze and shifted his weight from footpaw to footpaw. "Right," he remarked, seemingly disconcerted for a moment. "I... I guess if Mum was Armina after all, that makes me an adopted Rainblade too then, huh?" His chuckle had the slight strain of someone reevaluating his entire life. "I guess I'll have to figure out what that means."

A thought of momentary horror entered his mind, and he exclaimed, "Oh, 'Gates, I'll have to break the news to Mileya when. I see her. Oh, she'll be..." He paused, not actually sure that she would be distraught. A few arguments resulting from her gentle suggestions that maybe he was overly idolizing their mother now crept back into his memory, colored differently by this revelation. "Well, she'll feel some sort of way about it," he assessed. "I'll figure out what to tell her." He blinked as he realized, "You probably haven't met her yet, have you?"

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

Mild surprise registered on her face at the realisation. He was right. Having a further link to Daniil was delightful, though the implications remained weighty in themselves. Poor sod, being a Rainblade-Ryalor. Worst of both worlds, me boy, but we’re lucky to have you. Tanya gave him a sad smile and squeezed his arms.

She watched the younger todd’s expression shift as he continued to process the wider implications. Likely there would be more considering the Ryalor web of family ties, and she did not envy the responsibilities he would be assuming. Perhaps, though, they might yet prove the making of him. “I ain’t, no,” she admitted. “I think I’m out’ve step with a lot of the family, still. Be nice to finally get to meet more, though. It’ll all work out one way or another, but for tonight it ain’t your priority. Get yourself rested if ye can.” She wiggled her pawfingers in a gesture to take his keys. “Daresay you’ve plenty to think on as it is, don't burden yourself with more if you can 'elp it.”

 

[Daniil Ryalor]

Daniil nodded, reaching into his jacket pocket, then patting around as he remembered where he'd secured his house key, pulling it from an inside pocket instead. "I'll try," he allowed, a touch rueful as he smiled at her advice. "I don't think I'll be of much use to anyone, really, not for a bit. Thank you, Tanya." He hesitated before adding, "Don't hurt Caden, please. I... I'm still figuring out how I feel about all this, but I..." He shook his head, letting the thought drop. Disentangling his complicated feelings about his step-matricidal lover was too much for him at the present moment.

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

Tanya’s smile was reassuring; she even managed to push the care so far as to reflect in her eyes, easily enough managed by thinking on genuine affection. She withheld from giving Daniil a verbal promise, however. Her own violent impulses remained at war with grief and love: it felt nigh impossible to reconcile the wild little kit with the apparently steady adult Caden had become with the news of what he was. Once more she began to feel the knot of guilt in her stomach tighten over her decision to leave the city. “You take your time,” the vixen replied, a touch softer as the key vanished about her person. “I’ll go get your gear and drop it with you soon.”

~~

Much had changed in the city, but its old cut-throughs and routes, for the most part, remained as they ever had been and Tanya found herself making good time on her way to the brownstone condo. A furtive glance confirmed that the street was otherwise quiet for the moment as she padded to the door and gave a quick, smart rap. Silence. She left it a further seven seconds before deciding that Caden was either still not home or otherwise engaged.

Ears pricked for a breath, a grunt or any shift of fabric, the fox let herself inside and, noting the darkness which settled in the hallway, relaxed her shoulders. One in her line of work could never fully relax, but this was as good as it could get. Part of her was disappointed; the greater part felt relief to buy herself a little more time to think on her intentions. All her minds’ eye could see was Caden when he was a tiny, fuzzy kit as she stumbled through raising a toddler for the first time. Things had been so uncertain then. How had that not changed?

It wasn’t difficult to gather Daniil’s things as he’d described, though the knife eluded her on a first pass. Perhaps she’d been too preoccupied – it would hardly be the first time. Tanya shook her head vigorously and, arms laden with clothing and notebooks, slowed herself down to focus on assessing each room. This was an opportunity, after all.

 

[Asta Dalgaard]

Asta rushed home from the Ministry of Niceties. Though her body was weary from a full day of Rangeblade training, excitement buzzed through her at the prospect of spending the night and the entirety of the next day with Whisper playing music and composing. She only needed a quick stop to pick up her lute and musical supplies before continuing on into the Trenches where Whisper lived.

There was low lantern light glowing from the condo windows, and when Asta unlocked the door to enter, she slung her bow on its holder in the foyer, dropping her bag to the ground and unceremoniously kicking off her boots. The young jill made for the main hallway towards her room to change her clothes.

"Caden, Daniil, I'm home!" she called out. Then she stopped in her tracks as she passed the lounge. A vixen stood in the room. Asta locked eyes with her. Recognition dawned a moment later as she realized she knew the fox, but still her heart hammered in her chest and she took a full step back, every muscle tensing to dash away for the front door.

"Hello, it's Tanya, ja?" Asta's gaze darted to the belongings gathered in the vixen's arms, brow furrowing in confusion. "Why are you here? Is anybeast else home?"