Dietrich Weber

-

Nita had only one thought on her mind at Lou’s. It was the same thought she always had on her mind when she was at work. A single, perfectly clear mental mantra: fuck this.

As far as service jobs went, they were all the same. One long slog of putting up with the worst of entitlement just to have the privilege of handing a paycheck over to your landlord. But work imitated life, and life, as far as Nita had lived it, seemed like indentured servitude to an apathetic society where the best thing you could do was steal moments of dignity through a feral commitment to independence. And to think her manager had the gall to say she didn’t smile bright enough for the customers.

“Hey.” The man at least got a nod, something neutral and not immediately pissed. Just the mutual acknowledgement of someone else who didn’t seem to think the world was all sunshine and lollipops. She even gave a single huff of amusement at his attempted joke before giving an only partially teasing reply. “Yet.” Her thoughts went immediately to her conversation with March, the one where she’d tried to assure her that Sentinels had her respect, that it was a two-way street. And Nita still didn’t believe a single word. The lower members of the Houses were disposable, and she’d signed up well aware that she was being used. She’d worked service jobs before, after all, and she was used to trading in her dignity when she needed something. 

“Tragically cigarettes aren’t on the menu, but the sausage is usually so burnt it smells like one, so…” She trailed off with a vague shrug, doing an impeccably bad job at being a waitress or even just engaging in small talk. But she’d never pretended to be good at either, so who was there to disappoint. 

***

Small things. Trivial things. Common thoughts of frustration, boredom, disdain. It was the impression he got when he started combing through her mind. He couldn’t help but feel somewhat relieved with just how simple it was to get in. She was either untrained in guarding her thoughts or not practicing the techniques. He leaned towards the former, since he knew she was well aware that he was part of House Endine. And regardless of whether she knew he was a telepath or not, the smarter choice would be to assume he was. Until proven otherwise. 

It was a practiced art, one he’d gotten good at. Holding a conversation with her about cigarettes, smiling at her jokes she gives back to him and not letting on that anything was brewing beneath the surface. Not giving any indication that he was digging, digging, digging. Watching her thoughts and her feelings and her emotions stir and searching for those memories, that connection he could make to throw the door open further. 

What was curious to him, was the thoughts she had about her own House. About Valerian, March, about the Sentinels, about the feelings of being used. A strange thing and he tries to dig deeper, to follow the threads to previous memories and see what else he could find. 

“I’ll try the sausage,” he tells her, looking down at the menu as his mind worked away. “And hashbrowns, if I could?” he asks politely, closing up the menu and putting it back into it’s place against the rack on the counter. 

“I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop,” he makes small talk, shaking his head. Later, he’ll wonder what it says about him that he’s better at conversation when his mind’s working like it was, than when he was trying to make real conversation. “You know? I don’t feel different. I just...I thought it would be different, I guess.” 

✦

The succinct answers he gave did little to soothe that quiet feeling of guilt, but he’d already agreed and there was little point in taking the request back now. It still felt like a necessary next step, the easiest solution to the problem of Sam, and if there was someone else he should’ve asked, reluctance to use their abilities seemed too common a trait among telepaths. A restriction the young man next to him hadn’t shared, and he decided it was safer not to wonder too long on just what it said about him that he was willing to utilize that.

He shook his head at the question, and while he would’ve liked to know weeks ago, that was hardly Dietrich’s fault. It was his own, and if that moment at the Solstice hadn’t been nearly as violent as his introduction to the woman, it was still closer to Athena than he should’ve allowed her to get. 

“We’re not on a deadline,” he said. “Sooner is better, but I’ll leave it up to you. Whenever you have a moment.” He offered a quick smile, even if there was no indication it was really needed. He still thought it was important to offer, important that he knew it wasn’t something Monty was simply demanding of him.  “Thank you. I do appreciate it.”

***

Didi nodded. A simple thing at the information he was given. No time frame, but he’d have an answer quickly. He knew what he was capable of. Knew that while some highly trained Gifted individuals could hide thoughts in their mind, there were ways of getting information out of them, still. Whether he’d need to deploy those tactics with Sam, he didn’t know. But he’d be ready. He always was, when it came to these things. 

There wasn’t really a concern for his safety or wellbeing in all of this. He wasn’t going to go off and deliberately look for a fight or danger, but it wasn’t a worry he really had. Not when he could usually see the fight coming, especially if he opened up his mind to watch for it. And if it still came up on him, if it still caught up to him?

He’d taken a tire iron to the face. It was the last time anyone had ever laid a hand on him. He honestly didn’t know how he’d react to it. But he knew he’d probably have to find out sometime. Maybe even during his Sentinel training. 

Realizing that it probably wasn’t the best idea to just go quiet and Monty’s thank you and show of appreciation, he gives the man a look. “You’re welcome.” 

Uly didn’t manage to keep the smile from their face when the other gave them more than an one worded reply, good, great. It was working, at least Uly figured they had managed to make the other a little more comfortable than he had been at the start of the conversation, which was an amazing change, and mostly made them feel like they had created a valuable connection. It wasn’t much different from working in a hospital and trying to get answers to questions from a patient trying to keep things hidden - from friends, from parents. They felt the same kind of relief now as they had in those situations. As if they were a step closer to helping someone. Though it wasn’t the same now. 

“Why did you want to be transferred here?” they asked, as they nodded. “Endine, that’s the house that owns the Hospital,” they stated. “I know a few people from Endine, or have met them thus-far. Do you like it?” 

Their smile was returned a little looser, a lot guiltier as well. “Me neither,” they said. “I have thought about it, but standing in line with screaming children and far too bright lights… not to mention the loud music,” they sighed. “It is making it less enticing.”

***

The question borders on something Didi didn’t want to answer. On something he’d managed to keep from even the House itself, which was saying something since telepathy ran rampant among their ranks. One thing he’d been trying to balance was to remain just enough a silent player in all of this as to not rouse them to the type of suspicion that would have someone read his own mind, but at the same time trying to remain under the radar. He didn’t know how long it would last. How long before his past caught up with him. Before whoever had been standing in that hallway, waiting for him, showed up here. 

Life for a life, he guessed. Though when did the cycle end? 

“Necessity,” he answers, aware that it’s as vague as can be and he offers a small smile before he adds, a bit hesitantly, “It didn’t matter where I went. Anywhere but New York.” 

And that’s all he says about it, glad when they move onto something a bit safer, such as Endine. He nods his head, lips downturned because he has nothing bad to say about the House. Won’t praise it, because he didn’t think he knew it well enough. But they were inducting him during this festival and he supposed there was something to be said about him being accepted. 

“It’s nice, I guess.” 

He’d been to Lou’s diner a handful of times, but if he could remember seeing Sam David here, he didn’t recall it. As far as he knew, the first time he’d met her had been on the Solstice and while they’d started off on a decent foot, their conversation had dissolved into a mutual parting based on Sam’s distaste for the Endine house. He hadn’t known how ingrained that had been in her until Monty had sat him down and asked him to get inside her head. A venture he had agreed to, no room for judgments or revelations about whether he wanted to use his power. It didn’t matter what he wanted, because he didn’t allow it to. Funny enough, he’d even say he didn’t want it to matter whether he liked doing something like this or not. 

He found his place on a stool at the counter, menu in front of him and a glass of water already given to him. He gave the menu real thought, because he found the easiest way to go about this was to not make a big deal out of it. He knew what information he was looking for, just not what form it came in. He’d search and he’d delve and while talking to her would make it easier to get those memories to the surface, it wasn’t required. He could have sat here and knew what each and every person in this restaurant had on their minds today. If he spent long enough, pushed hard enough, he’d get something on all of them. And he’d leave here with more secrets than he’d had walking in. 

But he wasn’t here for them. Just Sam. Who was behind the counter working and it wasn’t until she came over that he looked up at her. “Hey,” he greeted her with the same reserved candor he gave to everyone, regardless of whether he was trying to read their minds or not. He’d already reached out, already opened himself up to her thoughts. 

“Guess neither of us were sacrificed.” 

✦ 

It didn’t surprise him when Dietrich agreed, and he tried to ignore whatever guilt came with that. He didn’t really expect he would, despite giving him the option. And it wasn’t just some exercise he was putting in front of him, but a question that he legitimately wanted the answers to.

“Sam David,” he told him easily. “You may remember her as the initiate that threw a tornado at Athena. Albeit a much more harmless one than the one she threw at me.” Which was probably better for everyone involved, because attacking the head of Endine would’ve gotten her more than the slap on the wrist attacking a mentor had. All the same, as selfish as it was, he thought it was a good test of the young man’s skills, and the potential for an answer that had been sitting in the back of his head for months.

“I want to know why she did it. Why she hates us.” What it was she blamed him for, like having the answer might somehow give him the answer to the woman herself. Still, he hesitated a moment on saying anything else, because it felt almost cruel to ask Dietrich to go looking for ghosts when he was still handling his own. “I want to know who died on her.”  

**

While the name didn’t draw a reaction from him, he did know who Monty was referring to. He’d spoken to the woman in question before the ceremony at the Solstice and while they’d both commiserated about being in a similar spot age-wise among all the other Initiates, their conversation hadn’t exactly ended on a high note. She’d been threatening, albeit mildly and he’d picked up on her hate for Endine through just that conversation. Now, Monty confirmed that she did have a hate and was looking for an answer to that question. 

It was when Monty said he wanted to know who had died on her that Didi studies him for a second. The words blunt and nothing he outwardly reacts to. On the inside, he shuts down whatever emotions that may stir before he can even feel them. Death was death. People died all the time and there wasn’t a person in the world who wasn’t going to experience that loss and that future. And the fact that he even had those thoughts in his head now was frustrating to him. Numbing something inside of him, when Monty was the one who took him to those weekly sessions to try and find a better way to deal. 

“Okay,” he tells him simply, again. And it doesn’t occur to him this time that he should be saying more, or that he should be offering reassurances that he could handle this. His mind already on the task at hand and distracted by shutting down the effort he put into being able to hold simple conversations. 

“When do you need to know by?”

It was a quiet acknowledgement and Dom’s eyes flickered to his, unsure if Didi was genuinely curious or he was just going through the motions - indulging Dom because he was the Heir to his House. It was a slightly discomfiting thought, that perhaps all Dom had been doing for the past half hour or so was imposing his presence on their previous initiate turned member in a misguided attempt to take his actual role and position seriously. 

“Uhm…Yeah. But you know, we don’t have to if you don’t want to. It’s still yours after all.” Dom fumbled with his words as he suddenly fumbled with the object in his hands, and he felt his panic rise somewhat thinking how the younger man would react if it slipped through his fingers. Gingerly, he placed the trinket back on the counter, using the edge of his finger to gently nudge it Didi’s way. He avoided looking at him directly. 

“I mean…it could be an interesting experiment and all, but all my experiences before didn’t really end up the way you want them to.” Dom felt he was babbling ever so slightly at this point. “You have Dev’s burnt hair, and I damaged one of Athena’s bookends along with a pair of Monty’s shoes, which he had to throw away after, and really it’s perhaps totally ill-advised at this point but…” He swallowed, his throat dry. “If you’re up for trying, we could do it back at HQ?” 

***

There’s a quiet frustration for himself when the man suddenly fumbles with the idea. Not sure if he’d sparked it by his ineptitude for conversation or if Dom was having second thoughts. But he tries to offer him a somewhat encouraging smile even as Dom carries on, telling him all the things that had gone wrong with previous experiments. All the things that he’d fumbled and the consequences. They seemed small, in comparison to what Didi would consider a total failure. 

“I get off in a couple of hours,” Didi tells him, his own way of saying that it’s a plan. That he won’t back down from this, that he’s entirely up for a little mischief and chaos. Because as much as he liked to lay low, keep a low profile, there was also the part of him that wanted to see what a trinket like this could do. And more than that, wanted to see what Dom could do. What the man was capable of, and get to know him more. 

If they were in this House Endine together, and if Dom was heir, that meant they would probably be spending a lot of time together. Growing up, in sorts, in each other’s presence and he didn’t know where he was going to be five, ten, twenty years from now, but if it was that he found a place here with Endine, he wanted to get off on the right foot. 

“We’ll only make a little chaos.” 

✦

Monty slid into the seat next to him, and if he’d put aside most of his reservations before he’d come here, for a moment they resurfaced with an abrupt intensity. He was still young, he was still dealing with the aftermath of witnessing something far too traumatic, and part of him wasn’t sure right now where the line was between being used and being utilized. He didn’t want to be responsible for the first. But if it were anything he was remotely capable of he would’ve done so already, and his attempts to figure out this particular mystery on his own by simple research hadn’t left him anywhere but frustrated.

“I want to ask you to look in someone’s head for me,” he said bluntly. And if it was something Dietrich had already agreed he was capable of and had few qualms about, Monty still included an addendum on the end, in case he felt any pressure for it. “You can say no.” 

**

Monty sits down next to him and he doesn’t need to be able to read his mind to know that he’s about to ask something serious. They’d spent enough time together for him to at least to be able to pick up on those cues. Still, he’s not sure if he expects the words that come out of the man’s mouth next or not. His Sentinel training still very much just starting, just getting under way and he hadn’t really thought Monty would set him to work until he’d proven himself a bit more. But there’s no surprise on his face, nothing more than a simple turning down of his lips and a nod. 

“Okay,” he tells him in response, to both the idea that he’d read someone’s mind and that he could say no if he wanted to. He didn’t want to. He’d meant it when he said that he didn’t have a problem using his powers, he just wanted to be in control of when he used it. Wanted to make that decision, even if it was just whether or not to do what someone commanded. Monty wasn’t commanding, he was asking, and Didi had already decided early on he’d give the man what he asked for any time he could. 

“Who?” he asked, curious. 

@didixweber

The feeling wasn’t quite guilt, though Monty thought it was something he should’ve felt more of. He had reservations, which was a much kinder way to put it, allowing for him to be fully aware why he should be hesitating more, but only really explained why he’d waited so long. The conversation he’d had with Dietrich during the Solstice still in the back of his mind even after it had dissolved into simple carnival games to wear down the evening. But there’d been no hesitation or doubt in him in the moments before, when he’d told Montgomery he didn’t have any reservations himself about looking in someone else’s mind if he asked him to. 

Which was what it had come to, a decision solidified by a tornado tossed at his head of house, no matter how benign it had turned out to be. It had him seeking out the younger man while the day was still early, not even through breakfast yet. “Good morning, Mr. Dietrich,” he said. “Do you have a moment?”

***

A glass of orange juice, toast, and a comic book was making up Didi’s morning. Sitting at the table in Endine headquarters, taking solace in the quiet of the morning before the place started up with the hustle and bustle from everyone else. He had the day off, no plans and he had yet to start his formal Sentinel training, so it left him with the unique predicament of not having anything to do but relax. As past time he’d found himself to be poor at. 

Though Monty’s presence and words had him looking up from the comic in front of him, nodding slightly at the man as he slid the comic away from himself slightly, sitting up in the chair a little more. He wasn’t sure why the man was seeking him out. It wasn’t his day of the week to take him to therapy and there weren’t any trainings to be had today. If it spiked curiosity, and quite frankly a little bit of nerves in him, he tamped in down quickly as he licked his lips and remembered to vocalize, like his therapist was trying to get him to do. 

“Sure.” 

***

As soon as he answered, Nita narrowed her gaze, immediately more on guard despite the mutual awkward discomfort they shared. The problem was ‘on guard’ for Nita was the opposite of helpful in the presence of empaths and telepaths, bringing the very worst of her thoughts and emotions bubbling to the surface in a mix of paranoia and memory association. Flashes of familiar faces, of distant voices on too short phone calls, of fear and burning hate and the satisfying pain of bruising knuckles–

Focusing on his second comment, she scoffed and offered a blunt response. “Well I’m not one of them.” Unintentional as it was, the response worked equally to express two points: that Nita didn’t really consider herself a part of House Valerian and that, even if she was, she certainly wasn’t one of the ‘good’ things he had heard about. “So try any mind shit with me and I will ruin your whole week. Maybe month if I really want to make a point,” she threatened in a fashion that was not unfriendly, simply matter-of-fact. Hearing the call to head on stage, she left him with a mild shrug. “Otherwise we’re cool.”

***

Well I’m not one of them she says and Didi glances over at her, unsure if she’s cracking a joke at first or not. But the follow up statement tells him just about everything he needs to know. She didn’t like Telepaths, or Empaths, or maybe just Endine in general, but whatever the case, it was a pretty typical response when someone found out what he could do. He gave a small smile to her, wanting that cigarette more than anything else right now, but he’d wait until after the ceremony. 

“Okay,” he answers and it’s all he gives her. Not one to bicker, not one to put effort into a confrontational discussion like this because there was nothing to gain from it. Not when he wasn’t actively looking for something in return. He’d tried the small talk, he answered questions, and while in the back of his mind he knew that he should actively be trying to make friends, it was still something new for him. Still something he simply wasn’t good at, or versed in, or equipped for. It wasn’t confrontation he was afraid of and it wasn’t the threat of what or how she’d ruin his week or month with -- it was simply that he’d deadened himself to the world for a very long time. Turning that off again? It scared him on his best days. And on his worst...

A moment of pause. This was going to be hard, they had faced conversations like this before, they had faced people before who didn’t wish to talk, who were holding back, keeping to themselves. Usually with good reason. Fear, misunderstanding, annoyance. There was a lot that could be up with the other that they didn’t know about. They wouldn’t pry about that, though they wanted to know if Didi was just very shy, if he didn’t want to talk, or if something else was up. They licked their lips, wondering, not sure how to continue the conversation, what direction they could take it that would result in an actual conversation. 

They nodded. “I’ve landed in the right town then,” they stated. “What brings you to Asphodel then?” they asked, though maybe that was something he wouldn’t wish to talk about either, so Uly plucked their mind for another question. “You been on any of the rides yet?” 

***

Didi was aware of his own lack of social graces. His own inability to adequately hold a conversation without the other person trying to pull information from them. It was something he was working on, but it meant something that Uly was still there. Even a stranger, even someone he’d never met before, was giving him the time of day and sharing in a pastry he’d bought from the stalls around them. It made him instantly like them. 

It’s why he answers the question with more truth than he’d normally give. Feeling lighter, and less like he needed to hide than he had in a while. “I’m joining House Endine. I joined in New York, but asked to be transferred here.” 

The second question has him giving a small smile, but he shakes his head. “No,” he looks over his shoulder at the carnival rides making noise down the line from them. “Have you?” 

♧♧♧

Dom hesitates, looking at Didi for permission before gingerly taking the object in his hands. It was weighty, considerably so, and Dom twisted it around carefully, letting his fingertips brush against its edges, feeling it out in his hands. Relics, charms and the like - they all fell under the jurisdiction of Oleander and Dom, with his kind of magic, honestly had no clue how to work or create them. Which was perhaps what inspired his fascination in the first place. 

House Valerian’s magic has always been the most physical, the most rooted to the natural world. Their command of elements was an act of will, giving order to a force that was inherently wild, fierce, chaotic. House Endine on the other hand perhaps had the most “human” of all gifts - the manipulation of thoughts, emotions - silent but insidious, quiet but destructive. Then you have House Oleander, perhaps one of the rarest of Houses in the entire of the Gifted community, the one most entangled with the “supernatural” - magic that existed beyond mortal understanding. Alchemy was just a part of that, and Dom’s knowledge of the gift was middling at best. To say that they imbued magic into objects seemed too simplistic, a trite summation of the gift, when in reality it has spanned millennia, deeply rooted in the history of nations, in its cultures. 

And he was holding a small piece of it in his hands. 

“It may backfire.” He cautioned. He’s only done it a handful times, with mixed results. Once, the curse he accidentally activated singed the ends of Dev’s curls and she refused to talk to him for a good week. They can laugh about it now. Sort of. “Especially since we’re not sure what it does.” 

***

Didi’s quiet through it all, watching as Dom takes the small trinket from him, turning it over in his hands. While he’d been mostly fascinated with history and especially the history of magic, his own collection of trinkets like this had remained just that...trinkets. Nothing with any real magic associated with them anymore. Long since depleted and he hadn’t really known anyone who had the capability of changing that. 

But Dom seemed to think he could. Seemed to think he could bring it to life and he doesn’t need the other man to tell him that they’re unsure of the consequences for that thought to already be crossing his mind. He knows that, he acknowledges it, but there’s still that intrinsic curiosity to see it in action. To see what a trinket like this was capable of. It was a side of a Gift that he simply didn’t possess. 

Telepathy had it’s benefits, but it was an observer’s gift. He wasn’t an empath, couldn’t manipulate emotions or act on the things he saw in people’s minds with any sort of control. He could simply watch and if he’d studied and worked on his own concept of that power and how it manifested, he still had his qualms about it. Still felt like when he read someone’s mind, he was stuck behind a closed door, unable to change whatever played out in front of him. 

This trinket could be something different. Even if it wasn’t his own gifts that brought it to life, he could watch it happen. It offered him the possibility of having more than simply a bystander’s gift, whatever power it wound up being. 

“Maybe,” he gives a small shrug, that it was that easy to simply brush off. “But it may not?” 

✦

Whatever else he thought about it, Dietrich didn’t show any sign, kept to himself like so much of what he’d buried. For a moment it left Monty gauging the younger man, something painful at the realization of just how many similarities he could pick up, while at the same moment being such opposites. Even without knowing who he’d been before, he was sure that there’d been so much more to him. More that had gotten shut away, buried beneath a seemingly disinterested and detached demeanor, because that was what he needed to protect himself. 

He’d been the opposite. He’d been nothing, some shell of a person, and tried to build up something around him in its place. 

Regardless, he didn’t need the initiate to reiterate words he’d already given him. Yes, he was willing to do that, and yes, he trusted those decisions in Monty’s hands. Which still surprised him some days, despite how hard he’d worked for the title he held now and whatever loyalty that had earned him. His awareness split between confidence in what he had, and that quiet uncertainty in the back of his mind that swore he didn’t really deserve any of it.

It was just one more thing he’d prefer to keep to himself, one more thing that had a grateful smile flickering to life on his lips when he affirmed that trust too. Just as simply, and just as certainly. Along with a nod that said he wouldn’t go digging through his thoughts. Not binding by any means, but a line at least acknowledged between the two of them. He didn’t know that it would ever make him want to be less careful, but it was nice to hear.

“Thank you,” he said. Simple gratitude offered back, though for a moment he thought there was more he should say, promises he was more than willing to make that he would never abuse or betray that. One more thing that felt slightly darker than the venue might warrant, so he put it aside for the moment. There would be plenty of time after the Solstice, now that he knew for sure he was willing to be trained as a Sentinel. “Now. More importantly: what have you gotten to do for fun, and what would you still like to do?”

***

Monty accepts his answers as the truth, or so he hopes with the way the man responds to him. It’s a gamble, to believe the man at face value through all of this, but it’s a gamble he’d decided early on that he wanted to take. He knew what it was like to get into someone’s head. He knew what it was like to know their motivations, the good and the bad, and he knew that sometimes it was better not knowing. That intentions weren’t always meant to be known and that was entirely okay. Because what was in someone’s mind one day, didn’t mean it would be there the next. 

His father had taught him that. 

The mind was a fickle thing. Being a telepath had given him a fast track into realizing that. Opinions could change, motivations could stagnate or shift, emotions and feelings could fluctuate on a dime. And he thinks his conversation with Monty, about seeing things happening on the other side of a door that couldn’t be opened, was a very real analogy for the way Didi used his telepathy. All telepaths, could see and feel what was happening in someone’s thoughts, but it took a truly talented one to know what to do with them. To know how to interpret what they saw and to understand that it wasn’t like watching a movie where it would be the same twists and turns every time you watched. 

Didi had learned that very early on. Learned to set aside his initial judgement and just go with facts. Instead of reading a person and coming to the conclusion of their favorite color is red, reframing his conclusion to, in the moment, they really enjoy the color red on that t-shirt. It was about perspective and interpretation of what he read in people’s minds. In the early days of playing with his powers, he’d fallen into that trap more than once. It had brought him to where he was now. Reading people he wanted to trust and have a relationship with only when they gave him permission. And leaving his more curious look at researching the way the human mind worked to complete strangers passing by in the streets. 

And he didn’t know how to tell Monty all of that. Didn’t know how to explain that sort of thing to the man or to the other mentors. Didn’t know if he even had to, because he knew he wasn’t the only telepath in Endine, their Head of House was one after all. But he’d learned his powers and how he used them on his own, without any guidance other than his mother to help him out and she’d died early on. 

It was a strange thought, that maybe he’d ask the doctor that Monty made sure he went to see every week, what the best way to tell someone something like that was. Something important, something that he wanted people to understand about himself, but didn’t know how to verbalize. He made a mental note to do just that. ...At some point. 

For right now, his brow furrowed only slightly when Monty asked him what he’s done for fun during the festival and what he still wanted to do. He takes a deep breath, stalling slightly, because all his answers seem lame, even to himself. And he knew Monty would see right through them. 

“I ordered an elephant ear.” He gives and his lack of any other explanation is meant to serve the purpose of letting Monty know he wasn’t really accustom to things like this. He didn’t know how to answer the question of what did he want to do for fun.

***

“Great,” she huffed, letting the kids shuffle off in front of her, forming a line that seemed to blessedly be by age or height or something that left them unperturbed at the back. “Well March assured me we only need to memorize the Latin response to the blood sacrifice, not the whole chant. Or whatever. Oh and something about a troupe of dancing virgins.” Nita offered the insight with half-hearted sarcasm because, really, she wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t true. But she suspected that pre-teens didn’t know any Latin.

“I’m about ninety percent sure she was joking, but who knows. Wouldn’t put it past them to be archaic about the whole thing.” After all, everything in this town seemed steeped in tradition, the sort that gave power and protection to people with the right last name. “So what’re you? Ghost shit or mind tricks?” she asked, blunt as ever. There was every possibility that he was being initiated into Valerian House as well, but she hoped that maybe she wasn’t entirely socially blind.

***

The comment actually got Didi to snort a chuckle out. Something amused at the idea that they’d do something so sinister sounding, but he doubted it, given the age of the majority of the initiates. At least, he hoped it wasn’t as scarring as something like that. The New York chapter, maybe, because it had been an entirely different atmosphere out there than it was here. Something a bit...laid back. Maybe it was just that typical Southern ease that came with where they were. 

At the woman’s question however, he glanced over at her, giving a small half smile. “Mind tricks,” he told her, purposely not elaborating so he could avoid the set of assumptions that always came when people first met a telepath. He studies her for a second though, because he hadn’t really had much interaction with people of the other houses in Asphodel. “I’ve not met March,” he observed to her. “But I’ve heard good things about Valerian.” 

One worded answer, noted, Uly wasn’t about to get curious and ask more, not their type of effort. Except of course when it was about an injury, then they would ask everything to find out what could be the cause. Now they kept it at a low, simply regarding the fact that the other was from New York City, and the response made it clear it wasn’t something he was proud of or felt great about. They nodded, finding it harder to continue a conversation when there was little for him to pry loose. Then again, if anything, Uly was good at getting people to converse, making them comfortable, so they surely would try here. 

“Seafood, huh. Hadn’t expected that either. Not that I mind though, I love seafood, very good nutritional values,” they suggested. “I guess you’re a fan of food then?” they asked. “Because honestly, if it hadn’t been for the food, I wouldn’t even be interested in walking around here. Trying new things, especially local delicacies,” they stated. 

“I’m from Texas myself, lots of deep-fried food and far too much fats, this town seems more heavily on the sweets. Which personally, much more to my taste. And now that I know seafood is high on the list as well, I guess my diet might get a upgrade while in Asphodel.”

***

Uly talks about foods, makes the observation that Didi’s a fan of food and while he wouldn’t really call himself that, most of his meals on the cheaper side and a more practical thing than what he thinks a place like this had to offer, he does agree that he has somewhat of an appreciation for the times when he has a good meal. Or just something new, out of the scope of what he normally ate. 

There’s no comment initially, because what he does find interesting is that Uly is from Texas. Not a place he’d been and when he thought of the state, he had probably a very stereotypical view of what the place was like. Cowboys and ranches, guns and southern accents. He didn’t know if it was far off or if the stereotype was stemmed from something more accurate, but he thought they probably had a similarly stereotypical view of people from New York as well. 

Uly, by no means, was someone Didi would peg to be from Texas, and he meant that in the best thoughts towards the other. 

“Gumbo is everywhere down here,” he tells them, in response to Uly wanted to upgrade their diet. 

For a couple heartbeats, he shifted nervously in his seat, as Didi seemed to contemplate his statement in silence. While he’d never been one to be afraid of vulnerability for himself, Teddy knew that it was a common affliction among the Gifted, and a small part of him was afraid that he’d pushed the younger man a bit too far, had been too bold in expressing himself. Not everyone was comfortable with laying their heart bare, and even fewer were comfortable with being the recipient of such a gesture. It was why he often defaulted to humor.

But then Didi spoke again and he relaxed. “Of course,” he answered easily, for once taking on the role of the serious one in their conversation. “Anything mine is yours.” A bold statement, considering he was the heir to Clairmont Worldwide. But Teddy had never been the business type. He was more of the people type. 

He brightened then, grabbing a plate that contained an uneaten pancake and sticking a straw down the center. 

“You can even have all my birthday wishes,” he beamed, pushing the plate towards his companion. He’d stopped making wishes after age seven, simply because during the previous birthday, he’d leaned in a bit too close to the candle and had burnt off his left eyebrow. “Make your wishes. I have twenty-two saved up.”

***

Teddy makes another gesture of friendship and it’s more than Didi really understands or knows what to do with at this point. He appreciates it, he really does, because there were few people he had left in his life who he said those things to him. But Didi’s problem, at this point, was always trust. It was always going to be trust. He had things in his past that made it an incredibly ridiculous notion to have a friend that close who was in the Magistrate. While his past lent itself more to a crime of the police force nature, the fact that he was Gifted also made it Magistrate territory and he sat across Teddy with a smile on his face, but really wondered if the man would be saying the same things if he knew. 

The thought is set aside for the moment, however, when Teddy sticks a straw into a pancake and pushes it across to him, telling him to essentially make a birthday wish and he snorts in amusement. It was such a Teddy thing to do. 

“Save them,” he tells Teddy with a smile on his face, not intending for it to come across as a denial, but he realizes a moment later that it might sound that way. So he clarifies, “Knowing you, we may need them. For your goat scheme.” 

✦

Monty couldn’t help but think it was interesting that claiming they were Special Ops was that comment that made Dietrich smile, the possibility that he might have touched on something that the younger man wanted more than just his job at a pawn shop. The position of Sentinel, the enforcers of their House, a role Monty had played once with slightly less enthusiasm. It was simply where his talents and his training had landed him, absent of any real emotion about it at all.

It almost surprised him, how quickly Dietrich answered. That simple, one word response, where he’d expected more hesitation, or doubt, or even just consideration. He was already aware of one very good reason why, the reason why he’d sat quietly in a therapist’s office with him and listened to him talk. It felt selfish to even ask the question, like one more person in this world just looking to use someone else, no matter how well he thought he could justify it. 

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.” A faint smile accompanied it, doing his best to put humor in the words despite something more honest or not. Still, there was enough confidence in every word that he didn’t really argue them. Utilized, not used, and he would swear to both of them that was all he was offering right now.

“At some point, that’s what I’m going to ask you to do.” Not today, already deep enough into this conversation for what was supposed to be a celebration. And one that in no small part was about the young man in front of him. His induction into this house, a full-fledged member of Endine, and all the bonds that came with it. It should’ve alleviated that slight guilt that came with every part of this conversation right now, because after the Solstice he could say their goals should be in alignment. And he would never ask him to do something that would betray the house. It was where his first loyalty would always be.

It was what kept him quiet a moment longer than necessary, hesitating over the next words before he finally voiced them. “But… you should know. You don’t have my consent. To read me.” 

He was aware what that implied, that it exposed certain weaknesses just by saying it out loud. That single thought that was all too prevalent when he was around Dietrich, even if he always felt slightly guilty for it. An implied amount of secrecy on his part, though it was almost funny how much of that was abound in their house when they had skills like the telepath in front of him. Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence, the ones capable of digging through someone else’s heads the ones who valued privacy most. “Do you still trust me?” 

***

It wasn’t eagerness to prove himself that had him saying the words. It wasn’t an eagerness at all, if he really had to put a label to it. It was...hope, maybe. Hope that someone would understand. He was quiet, he was distant, he was a fly on the wall and he was that way because that’s what he’d made of himself. That’s what he’d become. But beneath it all, he was observant in ways that only that chosen lifestyle allowed him to be. He had a desire to know what was going on around him. To learn, the understand.

Most of all, he wanted someone, it didn’t even have to be Monty, to understand why he wasn’t afraid to use his powers. Why nothing he gained from using them would be worse than what he’d already experienced. His own personal hell, living in someone’s mind in their darkest hour with the darkest outcome. But beyond that, the part that no one knew about him, was what had come after. 

Those months that followed. When he’d sought his revenge. When he’d paid back in kind what those people had driven his father to. It gave him a perspective he hadn’t known he was looking for. Three of them, with the same fate set in front of them, and three unique thoughts coursing through their mind in the face of death. Begging, disbelief, calling out for help. And it was strange, to Didi, that not a single one of them thought of a loved one or family member. He’d known they’d had them. Had people they cared about. But their final thoughts had been so...selfish. Where his father’s had been so in a different way, the people who hadn’t chosen their own deaths hadn’t and it was a unique experience. 

And he didn’t know if anyone else understood that kind of revelation in the same way he did. Not something he’d ask Monty, or would even tell him about with a blunt honesty. Not something he’d ask the other telepaths, because before all of it, he’d just been a kid using his powers to cheat at poker. 

Monty tells him that he doesn’t have his consent and Didi nods. Nothing that hurt his feelings or made him bat an eye. The mind was a very personal place. Something unique to every individual. Nothing that should be invaded on that type of level by someone who you were supposed to trust. The worst kind of violation Didi could image, to have someone know the deepest, darkest thoughts of the mind. It’s why when Monty asks the question, he just nods again. 

“Yes.” 

➼

The clouds suddenly clear! Sun comes blasting down onto their table only! Let there be light! Okay. None of that happens but Didi laughs. A small snort, something louder and more upbeat than Osun’s had the pleasure of seeing. It feels like his laughter and smiles are something that must be given like precious gifts. Osun would love to help draw more out of him, if only for Didi’s sake. Although, selfishly, Osun simply loves to make others laugh.

“Just over two years, I was an older initiate too, actually. I sort of knew him briefly before joining Endine. I was an intern at Sacred Heart and of course made myself known to most people there,” Osun says, irritating or endearing was a personal opinion on that particular habit of the over-eager intern Osun, “Then I heard about Endine and pestered Athena for details.” 

It’s a short, sharp but sweet summary of Osun’s journey. Less words maybe suit Didi, but Osun has a feeling he sometimes wants to say more, simply doesn’t know what to say. Or isn’t comfortable. He’s a very complex fellow, perfect Endine material.

“And yes,” Osun adds very solemnly, “Over two years of friendship, and he still refuses to go see the babies.”

***

Didi tears off a bit of his scone and takes another bite as Osun talks. He finds it interesting that they had been an older initiate too. The Solstice was coming up and so far, he’d noticed that most of the initiates were much younger. Children. And while Didi was in his early 20′s, he was still far beyond the majority demographic for age of initiates. He wondered what Osun’s reasoning was. If they’d just not found a House that worked for them, or if they’d come from a place that didn’t have strict houses like Asphodel. Or New York, for that matter. 

Though he gives a small snort when Osun tells him Monty still refuses to go see the alligators with them. He didn’t know the reason, even if there was one and he wasn’t about to take advantage of their budding trust in each other by asking Monty to go with the understanding that it’s not something he’d normally do, and a refusal might do more harm than good. If he trusted Monty, he wanted the man to trust him in return. 

His thoughts turn back to being an older initiate. The idea that Osun was too. The question on the tip of his tongue on what made it that way, but it was a very real effort to not simply ask it. To have a conversation, something he was genuinely trying to remember how to do after isolating himself for so long. And when it came to conversations, he wasn’t usually one to give away personal information, so he decided to give it a try now. 

“My mom hated gifted organizations,” he explains, like Osun will make the connection for it being the reason why he hadn’t joined when he was a kid. Why it had taken him so long.