Beginner's guide to Motherhood
Day 4: Family @tamlinweek
Everything is fine. Most major threats are gone. All the courts are rebuilding. So, why. Why is it, that only two months after the initial rumors started, that Lucien had to learn from a gathering of almost all the high lords that the High lord of spring was missing? On a completely unrelated news, one of the most famous traveling band of all of Prythian got a new member! He has no clue as to what is going on but these children won't leave him alone. Please leave him alone, he's just trying to remember what his name is.
Need I say more? I was really debating between whether his was gonna be gen tam, or tamquin, or tamris, or return to my roots, tamcien. Lets leave it at a tentative tamcien shall we?
“What do you mean, he’s missing?”
“...”
He looks around the room, no one meets his eyes. To his left, Thesan clears his throat; “I see that no one told you?”
It was phrased as a question, but please, as if the answer wasn’t obvious enough. Lucien’s gaze was on him within seconds, eyes sharp and expression tense.
He normally wouldn’t take this kind of tone with people, especially not in a large gathering. Even if it wasn’t almost all of the highest powers on this continent in this meeting. Much less a high lord that he is fairly friendly with. But- this is an extreme case.
“And what,” he practically seethes, “exactly, do you mean by that?”
Two months.
It has been two months. And no one, no one, told him. To be fair, he has been away from Phrythian for far longer. But you’d think that it would be common courtesy to inform family and friends of someone you are aware is missing. Which.. admittedly, he is by all technicalities neither. So perhaps he shouldn’t be so shocked it took 2 whole months to find out Tamlin is missing.
Lucien isn’t quite sure what to think about the slimy heaviness in his gut. He can figure that out when he finds Tamlin- which he will. He has to.
Since the war, Tam had been getting better, Lucien knew that. They’ve been corresponding, he’s been working on rebuilding spring so Lucien helped with what he could. Gone were the days where folks would go days with nothing more than a vague idea where their high lord was, gone was the uncertainty from an unstable high lord. For the most part.
Lucien knows there are a bunch of unprocessed thoughts or feelings, but Tamlin won’t talk and there doesn’t ever seem to be a time for that. Later, he tells himself, later, when everything settles down. Later. Later, when he finds him. He can’t imagine, what would it be like to lose another-
Mother.
There are people working with him, every day, all day. So how is it that he’s missing? For so long? What if-. No. Lucien gives himself about two more minutes of panic. He stops outside of Tamlin’s new office. It’s fine. Taking one more deep breath, he pushes the door open, and begins mapping out logistics. Figuring out last sightings, older plans, thinking of Tamlin’s preferred haunts. He’s known him for a long time, he knows him well. Very well.
At least I hope so.
The thought saddens him, but that is not the focus for now, his… friend is missing.
How hard could it possibly be to find a wayward high lord?
. ~ about 9 weeks ago ~ .
One of the downsides of waking up in a faceful of blood, carcasses, and mud, would definitely be the absurd smell of it. Another would be the foul feeling of everything getting in places it shouldn't be. He tries to push himself up, but his limbs feel heavy and he can barely breathe. A minor inconvenience. The light breeze every so often makes things feel less, well, there. It makes the mess feel less sticky, less hot, less dirty, and overall just slightly better. Only for a moment though. The sunlight that brushes past the parted leaves from the high trees negates any mild comfort the breeze offers.
A minor inconvenience
He’s been through worse.
Once more he tries moving. Once more it feels as if he was pulling his muscles and skin apart. Giving up, he looks around, apart from his immediate Heavy as his limbs feel it really shouldn’t be this hard, so why is it that it’s so damn hard to move?
A faint stirring at his side quickly answers his questions and the stirring soon materializes on his back in the form of a small faerie. A soft gasp rang out, in the small clearing and was soon followed by a teary sniff and-
“Mama?”
What.
Sitting upright with a speed that shouldn’t be possible with the sheer amount of pain from his abdomen, he glances around frantically for the kid… only to realize that he accidentally threw that young child off.
Cauldron damn him.
Pushing aside the pain he quickly turns to the child. At first glance, the child is covered in injuries. Looking more carefully, it wasn’t hard to tell that said injuries are only an illusion caused by the sheer amount of filth that covers the child. Said filth probably also covers him. He stares at the unknown child. The child blinks. A tear stained face lights up as they notice his gaze on them, they smile with such brightness that could rival the sun despite all the filth covering them. They stand up and reach for him-
“Mama!”
Instinctively, he knows it is entirely possible. He can conceive. In fact something gives him the feeling that he has had that specific conversation at some point. With someone Important. Maybe. Probably.
But- he glances around, surely this is not..?
He opens his mouth, “Kid- oof,”
It has catapulted itself to him, and knocked the wind out of his lungs. It wiggles around a bit and clings to his chest with a force to be reckoned with. The rustling of leaves catches his attention as another pair of children - although slightly older - tumble out from the undergrowth of the forest.
They stare at him. He stares back.
He’d say their gaze was wide and innocent, but then he'd be lying.
…
While they were indeed very innocent-looking, his instinct tells him that there is no way that they are up to something good.
. . .
The silence was really starting to grate on his nerves, especially since the youngest in his arms has also taken up to watching him.
. . .
Well then, if they want to win this staring contest they have chosen the wrong opponent. Because he is-
He is-
He can’t-
He-
he's forgetting something,
it all hurts what's going on, he is going to throw up, its all overwhelming, hes can’t remember anything- whatisgoingon,
it smells bad, it hurts, his heart aches, and and-
Something tugs at his shirt. He swings his arm out- Whos attac-
“Mama”
Right, the children. He can’t -won’t- just break down. Something tells him that it’s not often he breaks down like this. Said feeling also tells him something is horribly wrong. He has places to be, and this clearing with rotting carcases isn’t it. That and the realization, he has no clue who he is.
Horrible realization, wouldn’t recommend.
Shoving down all possible emotions, he stares at the children again. The one in his arms looks like it was barely 5 or 6. Soft scales running along her cheeks and arms tells him that it must be a shifter of some sort. Chubby cheeks and teary eyes directed to him stare into his soul, it hurts, his heart aches. It clutches his shirt- well, the tatters of his shirt. ‘It’ also happens to be in a crudely cut piece of cloth, (the tears looked like it was probably ripped by teeth) that happens to be the same shade of white, dirtied by the blood and filth, of his shirt, the happens to have a hole in the middle, leaving his chest and torso exposed to the mild spring air.
The child had chosen to then, without warning, cry. Loudly. Strangely with relief, like crying to him would solve all of it’s problems.
The older children were not helping. Four pupil-less eyes glance at the sobbing one, then pointedly stares at him.
He could almost hear an annoying buzz in his head. He could feel a headache forming. He could feel a horrible sunken dread starting to crawl up from his stomach. The buzzing was feel louder. It was also getting louder, in fact it’s almost as if it was getting closer...?
Something hits him hard and fast, straight on his head. Pressure builds behind his eyes and all he can feel is the tiny hands in his hair- a sprite?, he can hear loud sobbing growing to louder wails. And the presence of more fae drawing closer and closer.
His head hits the ground and promptly blanks out.
“Mama?” He can hear the kid’s sniffles. Mother above, it was not a nightmare?
“Child, that is not your mom!” a sharp, high pitched voice practically yells, right in his ear.
Ow
“He seems like fun.” twin voices echoed eerily as one.
Wow, creepy.
“AURRRG, SHUT IT YOU TWO!”
Ok, this sprite needs to get out of his ear if he still wants to be able to hear by noon.
“Mama…”
"STOP IT!"
“Poor Blue.” Murmurs a wispy voice, gentle and calming.
“He just keeps trying.” Pities a similar voice, if his hearing wasn’t so good-which it might no longer be soon enough- he wouldn’t be able to differentiate the two.
His’s scalp was really starting to hurt from all the hair pulling from Blue. But he can’t be bothered to do anything about it just yet. Perhaps if he feigned unconsciousness long enough they would leave him alone. He wouldn’t mind fading away. Just a bit. Weirdly, he's vaguely aware of where he is. Not the day of week nor his cauldron damned name, but he’s fairly certain he’s in the spring court. One of the more south-eastern forests maybe. Closer to the former wall than the autumn border. A village or two nearby. Probably. Or has one of them fallen. He isn’t too sure.
He moves his arm sluggishly hoping to at least discourage the temperamental sprite, but no luck, he’s still in pain. He opens his eyes again. The atrocious smell hits his nose again. And the weight settled on his chest registered to him, again.
Riiight, children. How inconvenient. If he were alone perhaps he would actually pass out and pray that he wakes up fixed. He gives about two seconds to consider that plan.
Hmmm.
Nope. Judging their sizes and presence, there is no way any of them are old enough to be alone… maybe he should leave them in the village? That might or might not be nearby? He gives this plan a bit more than two seconds. … Fucking fine. He can wallow in pain and misery and confusion later. Send the kids somewhere safe, and then do that. That sounds… better. No guilt in leaving the kids without capable hands.
This time, he carefully reaches the arm that’s less in pain towards his chest, and subsequently the child. Cradling its back he sits up slowly, and opens his eyes.
He can’t have passed out for too long, for one the sun is still up, and it feels about the same intensity as before. It was maybe a bit after the monsoon season as the air was damp, but not too damp. He focuses his vision and meets the gaze of the child, glistening blue eyes tugs at his heart. Before looking around.
The sprite had decided to settle near the other children, and they watched him like hawks. Ranging from curiosity to amusement and seething rage. Even the amused twins- they had to be, their presence was too similar not to be -had a hint of sharpness in their gaze, clearly all of them were protective over the littlest one. They were definitely hybrids of some sort.
And they weren't too much older, at best in their teens, and certainly not mature. Finally the last of this little quartet was, in size, the littlest. Though if he had to guess, probably the eldest. Some kind of flower fae. Ah, that's where blue came from. Bluebells. Makes sense, if not a bit on the nose. He was till glaring at him.
No one was quite willing to break the silence that fell since he decided to sit up. That was fine. He preferred the silence anyways, even the little lizard-child was quiet, no longer sobbing. In fact, she fell asleep, as if his embrace was soothing.
It was a foreign feeling, being trusted like that, but he decided not to dwell on it too much. Focusing his energy and some magic, healing himself sufficiently to move at the very least. He’s fairly certain that something is still broken though.
It’s fine he tells himself, just drop them off, and figure the rest out, it shouldn't be too hard.
