#dotu lotor

Lotura

Summary: A small excerpt of Lotor's grand adventures concerning fatherhood.

He burnt the tip of his tongue on hot coffee, the immediate sensation caused him to jerk back only to spill hot liquid on the hairs of his chin, the documents on his desk and unfortunately his lap.

His scowl deepened, eyeing the stained paper work with annoyance. Though to be fair most of them were complaints, carefully worded protests against his current decrees, but complaints nonetheless. Truly, it was no true loss that a couple of drops of hot coffee got on them.

The sight perfectly articulated his current disdain. Placing the mug, Allura's favorite mug, that had mice dotted all around it, he remembered his strength, remembered that it was far too small for his hands, and that his dearest wife would likely chastise him for accidentally breaking it.

Actually-his eyes darted around the room, it was long dark outside. Well, not totally dark, he could still make out hues of dark purples and blues that were slowly fading as the moon rose higher. Because he had slightly propped his office window open, he can taste the faint flavor of salt. The tides were receding.

Sighing, he leans back, cracking each individual knuckle. It was quiet.

Too quiet.

Quiet like an omen.

He hadn't seen hide nor hair of his children since dinner. They had classes and training that they attended throughout most of the day. When they weren't occupied they either lazed around the house during the hotter times of the afternoon or ventured outside with their peers when it had cooled.

He grimaced. Paperwork could wait,he needed to ascertain that his children were indeed alive, in one piece and that nothing had caught fire.

Exiting, the hall lights were on, but no child in sight. He had left Kisari and Vax'ha with Ular, but he did not see them or hear them, nor did he call out for them. Quiet like an omen. Allura would never forgive him if any of their babies had gotten hurt under his watch, and he'd never forgive himself either for being negligent.

Distracted by the eerie quiet he nearly tripped and stumbled, his quick reflexes kept him from soaring face first into the hard floor.

His scowl is more prominent..he finds that what he had tripped over Is Kisari's stuffed-he squinted at it, the name of the animal is somewhere on the tip of his tongue, but it's lost in the rattle of his sleep-deprived mind.

Long neck, with brown spots - a gift from a Terran dignitary whose name escapes him, not that he cared in the slightest. However the toddler is nowhere in sight-his frown hardens.

He looks around "Kisari?"

No answer.

"Ular?"

No answer.

"Vax'ha?"

No answer.

Quiet like an omen.

It's not like her to leave her beloved toy about so carelessly "Kisari?"

His call is answered by a blood curdling scream, Vax'ha's more specifically. He learned not to panic, not too much anyways, children scream over anything, as time has come to teach him. Instead of his previous goal, he journeys up the third floor where the children's bedrooms lay, and finds the hallway oddly immaculate. He isn't sure whether to be impressed or suspicious, but finds the kids' bathroom door wide open.

It reeked of mud, usually it smelled like urine, courtesy of his sons' atrocious aim, and strongly scented bath bubbles.

He expected blood. A whole lot of blood, splattered on the white tiles and in between them. Broken bones sticking out of flesh and skin. A cut hand to a lesser extent, or worse a split skull. Allura would never let him live it down if something that serious happened on his watch. Despite not knowing the reason behind Vax'ha's shrieking he can already taste the bitter guilt on his tongue.

But, to his relief, none of the ugly, gruesome scenarios came to fruition. Instead of mangled bodies he finds Vax'ha taking refuge on top of the closed toilet seat, cheeks red with anger and equally angry tears.

And he finds the object of her distress-Kisari.

Tormenting her.

or rather with the mask she's wearing, that covers her whole head is the object of the torment. Gnarly and uncanny, the strange, animalistic noises the toddler makes isn't helping the matter.

"Stop it!" Vax'ha yells again "I said stop it!" Kisari ignores her cries and continues the guttural, growling noise she's making in the back of her mouth, savoring her sister's anguish in childish glee.

"Daddy!" It's then he is noticed "make her stop!" She stamps her feet against the porcelain "she won't stop!" He sighed, walking over, yanking the mask off the toddler's head, her dark eyes blink upwards.

"Kisari, why are you terrorizing your sister?" He doubts he'll get answers, but asks nonetheless.

"Papa?" Her brows knit together.

"Don't papa me, why are you tormenting Vax'ha?"

"Cause."

"Cause isn't an answer" he replies patiently "and where did you get this?" He had it stored somewhere in the basement, a priceless artifact from a bygone era, made of feathers, faded in color, and wood so old, the trees it was made from have long been extinct. It is or was a type mask meant to intimidate enemies on the battlefield when his people had only been a small group of small, yet thriving tribes.

Of course they were that no longer. They no longer have need of these, but it was a wedding gift from the Witch chosen from her old assortment of ancient collections.

He had kept this in the storage room. How did Kisari get a hold of this was the unanswered question.

Did someone leave the door open?

"Found it!"

"Where exactly?"

"On chair" she meant couch. What was this doing on the couch? He turns it in his hands before placing it on the counter, and yanks Kisari from the floor, and in his arms. Vax'ha angrily rubs her tear-stained cheeks.

"Where's Ular-"

"Everyone move!" Lyra stormed into the room in a hail of ivory hair “Vax'ha get off the the-” too late, she ended up puking onto the white tile floor while clutching her stomach. It all happened within the blink of an eye, he could barely react as An’tok came stalking in after her.

“I told you not to get up!” he yelled at her.

“Shut-up….” she mutters, as he keeps her from keeling over.

“Hey!” another voice enters the fray “there’s the mask! How did it get there?! Are you throwing up!?”

Quiet like an omen

Lotor sighs. It was going to be one of those nights

Diplomatic Errands 

“How very suspicious of the witch to have even let me slip into this dinghy party with a plus one, especially just to talk to someone who’s planet we’re burning to shreds a couple days from now.“

Would DotU Lotor even have the comprehension that VLD Galran-looking Keith isn't DotU Keith?