#zaer

Everything was dark. Blacker than black. Shadows upon shadows, it was as if light itself had never penetrated the space. It hadn't had it? This was part of the void, filled with black, monstrous beings beyond Talah's worst nightmares. He could hear the skittering, but he felt it first. Dropped on his belly, they were slimy yet sharp, bulbus yet scurrying. They burrowed into his flesh, slipped under his skin, feasting on his insides and leaving a disease, a corruption behind.

"Javinth! Help-" Talah whimpered, hoarse from his own screams. Something bigger was pinning him down, sharp stabbed through his shoulder, slicing and peeling the muscle from his arm. The more he fought the heavier the feeling on his chest. Tighter. Cutting and cracking… ripping him open and squeezing down on his ribs until they oozed with bile that just as quickly turned into more tiny skittering blobs.

He couldn't breath. It hurt. More than it had all hurt before. More than training, more than dying. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to be corrupted. He just wanted to be himself he and had worked so hard to become himself. "Make it stop… Dad!"

Suddenly something gripped his shoulders. Something real had him making, equally suddenly, the corruption and darkness seem like illusions. The darkness started to fade, to grey, to warm light. Something comforting was calling him name.

"Talah!" Zaer's voice was stern with worry, but not without warmth, matching the grip he had on the boy's shoulders as he tried to rouse him from the first sleep his son had in days. The first sleep he'd managed to get the boy take since surgery. "Wake up." He ordered.

Talah complied with a sudden gasp of air and a sputtering cough after. He hurt. His chest was still tight, still felt like it was skittering, and chewed through, even now awake he could hear the scratching and clawing in the distance until Zaer spoke his name again; demanded his focus. "You're going to pull your stitches."

It had been three years since the last time he died, almost to the day. Three years of black out, medicated sleep. Three years of medicines and shifts in lifestyle. Three years, putting him nearly to eighteen, he should be able to handle trauma from his childhood. In order to get the results he wanted, he had to forgo the potions that kept the nightmares at bay, but after three long years, he was no more prepared for them than when he returned home.

Once Talah was aware of himself, his father, and wasn't going to try to lash out from his dreams, Zaer's hold on him relaxed and the quiet warrior gently brushed the boy's hair back from his forehead to also check his temperature.

"I'm okay… just another bad dream." Talah flopped back against his pillows with an exhausted sigh. He wasn't getting anymore rest, not this morning, and soon enough it would be time to change the bandages wrapping his new pecks and he had to blink back the internal horror that they would be covered on corrupted black veins. It was just a dream. "Coffee? … maybe pancakes? And bacon?" Talah offered big, pleading puppy eyes at his parent, not that he needed to as the old elf got up to start a new day a bit too early.

"Call for me if you need anything, no getting up until you're healed." Was all Zaer offered like he was one more precious whelp to raise and heal and not like he had spent the whole night nearly sleeplessly worried about Talah; watching over him knowing before too long he'd be all grown up and his job would be done.

Aren’t u tired of being nice? Don’t you wanna go absolutely apeshit feral??

A hundred bucks was a lot for the teen to ‘find’ out and about. Even if he didn’t own much, his list of wants were even smaller than the sparse bedroom he inhabited in the Swiftfire household. It was also too much to keep on one’s person in the middle of a crowded city. So how best to spend it? First things first, the adult shop. ....Which took one look at this seventeen year old features and kicked him right out. He could theoretically sneak in, and take whatever he pleased, and not even bother paying for any of it, just to show them... but that didn’t change the legal tender in his pack waiting to be spent.

Zaer needed a new belt, and scabbard after the last round of whelps chewed through the repairs he managed to put into it. Why didn’t they just chew on the shields? They were so much more sturdy. He could though, actually pay for the thing which was an improvement to his usual spending habits.

Then there was the smoke shop that knew him well. Most of the employees had known Talah through multiple incarnations and while he couldn’t risk being fourteen going inside, standing over six foot now, it was much less likely they were going to card him. His tobacco leather was falling apart at the seams, and hadn’t held actually tobacco, let alone papers in years considering it was easier to just get cigarettes from Zaer than anything loose. He was tempted again to buy up a hookah and stuff, but even if he got one, keeping up on the habit wasn’t cheap and the money in his pocket wouldn’t last. He moved on to one of his favorite clothes shops and picked up a fresh compression tank top to wear under his armor. Again they tried to prod him into something enchanted or more complicated but he shook off the attendant. He kept spells on his body to a minimum without checking with a trusted mage first and it wasn’t exactly his favorite topic to bring up with any of them in the first place.

The rest? He bought up as many sandwiches as he could haggle out of the deli. Reed would have done a better job of it, but he wasn’t bad. Talah pushed his way back to Murder row from the various shops, wandered the back allies into the forgotten corners and slums that made up the invisible parts of Silvermoon. Each begger’s cup and tent, whether he recognized them or not got a small meal. ...Maybe he should have held off on getting a fresh supply of tobacco, there were more tents than he remembered there being...

The hushed tones of an argument suddenly rose in exclamation snapped Talah awake in his bed. It quieted almost as instantly, but it was clear he hadn’t imagined it from the continued murmur from down the hall. He strained his ears to listen further, trying to avoid prying himself from the warmth of his bed early. He thought he almost caught a word, but the echo of an old house, the twitch of his ears, the pounding in his own chest, they all fought for his attention too hard.

It was nearly dawn, the etching of shapes coming into focus with the soft blue light making everything seem one milky grey color. The promise of a bright morning was still far off, dulled, and not yet committed to providing the light of day. The chill in the air brought goosebumps across his shoulders as Talah pulled his groggy frame from the warm nest of covers. He didn't bother binding himself up in leathers just yet. Curiosity got the better of him - the sense of safety his parents had worked so hard to provide had finally taken root enough to ignore the minuscule dangers of being exposed under his shirt.

Even as he opened his door, the individual words were too hushed to hear, almost hissed in their frustrated rush to spill their contents, meaning he could tell they weren't coming from Zaer. And even in the pauses, the warrior father was silent, or perhaps too quiet even for an assassin’s hearing. Talah slipped silent and bare feet out into the hall, pulling the sweater over his head to keep warm. One of the ones Flynn had gifted him over the holidays.

He approached the bathroom, inching closer to the master suite when the click of the door knob made him freeze. He didn't hide, though, like he once would. This was his home. His family. There was nothing he needed to flee from, but perhaps the instinct to not get caught still gripped him from somewhere primal. So he waited. Still as death itself, he was poised like an alerted deer in the forest.

“What will you tell him?” Zaer's deep tenor finally rang out through the crack in the door. It didn't sound as it should. Something was wrong and the anxiety seized the teen like a vice. Zaer was upset. No, even frustrated or emotional l he didn't sound…

It came out so broken, Talah didn't even wonder who ‘him’ was, suddenly ready to run in and defend his parents from this new threat.

“He’s probably still asleep, I don't want to bother him if I don't have to. Tell him whatever you think is best.” Flynn responded as he opened to door to see their son standing right there in the hall. Surprise spread across the man’s face, and then something else joined the expression Talah couldn't quite place - his attention was too focused on the duffel bag his dad was carrying.

Flynn left without a further word. Heading down the stairs, the sound of his steps pounding so loud in Talah’s ears the boy barely noticed Zaer coming out to join him in the hall, or that he reached for the hem of the warrior’s sleeping shirt. They stayed still until the final slam of the door left the world silent again.

“He’s not coming back, is he?” was all Talah could manage.

Zaer released a deeply unsatisfied sigh, and only answered, “Go pack your things.”

One more affectionate pat and Talah sprinted off in denial. Finding the first window he could that would show where Flynn was going, swapping to a different window, then another to keep him in sight as long as possible. He didn't call out, or cry, or beg; just watching until the brunette was out of sight and remained in place for the longest seconds in his short, fractured memory.

Future uncertain, past untraceable, there was soon nothing left to do but follow orders; comfort in doing as he was told. There was a brief acknowledgement that Zaer was waking Leona and Rennistraz with the news, but it was dampened and dulled. He would help look after them soon, but for the moment the boy needed... what did he need? He needed to pack. Talah went to the room with his things to bind himself in leathers and pack. All his training hit like a truck, taking over and held him together as each strip of armor hugged him tight. It had just been a place, like any other. Nothing he should have relaxed into and he would try harder not to get attached next time.

“Zaer. I'm ready to go.”

I don’t know if I’ve ever kept a journal like this or not, but I want to have a more complete history of my thoughts than what Leona’s dossiers can fill for me. I mean, for one she left herself out completely. Silly girl, what is she doing forgetting to add possible the most important part of my memories now? Well… I mean, not -the- most important part of my memories, but like, I don’t know.

Second attempt! I’m not sure I’ve ever kept a journal. I want to know what happens to me in my own thoughts. I mean, Leona’s dossier is really handy and it was able to put together a lot of extra information that was grey at first and some that still seems fuzzy. But she left herself out She left out a lot of important details for some silly reasons.

I keep listening in on the Atlas communicators and it’s hard to go a few days without someone mentioning wanting to or planning to kill Hidden at this point. It’s not the first time someone’s wanted to kill my boss, or even the first time one boss wanted to kill another, but they seem oddly adamant about the whole process. Like they’re actually going to go through with it. Maybe I’ll ask Zaer one of these mornings.

Oh! Zaer. He’s quiet, and big. I want to be that tall someday too. He really likes dragons and never gets enough sleep. Zaerbear. He’s teaching me how to raise the little hatchlings that need the extra care. I think he’s thankful for having an extra pair of hands in the morning. Sometimes we even get things done early and can manage to relax and… well not ‘talk’ he doesn't say much which is just fine by me, but he answers my questions when I have them. He’s adamant about asking for things rather than stealing them. Like I asked for this journal instead of stealing it. Its, well frankly it’s a pain, but I haven’t been told I can’t have something yet so I can indulge him. I can listen to him.

This writing out thoughts is harder than I thought.

Anyways, I don't see him much during the day, but when he promises to come home for dinner he just about always makes it on time. Flynncakes is extra happy those nights.

Flynn is a pain in the ass.

Flynn is awesome at everything.

Flynn never shuts ups.

Flynn and I are complicated. He’s like Zaer’s opposite. Chatty, bubbly, and he constantly thinks he knows me before I do. ...Sometimes he gets really really close and it’s not fair. He’s more emotional than Zaer too, but he hasn’t hit me yet, so it’s so far a good emotional. He’s the one to whine to if someone else is being a jerk first. I bet he would be great at punching someone else if I ever needed him to.

He likes cooking a lot. Remember. Cooking Training. Its easy to remember him from there because the cooking part is actually… there’s someone that wouldn’t let me call it fun I -know- that much, but I can’t figure out who yet. Fun has to be play, not training. And she’s pretty enough I want to listen to her, but for some reason her voice escapes me. Lee mentioned someone I hated the voice of... Neri, maybe that’s her... But Flynn! He makes the best cookies. If I can’t remember anything, at least remember milkshakes. ‘Milk’ that cow as much as I can.

Leona didn’t put herself in the dossier much. She doesn't have a whole lot of edge, but she’s my partner. She’s sort of an operative, but a really terrible one. She gets mad when I call beach balls stupid, but she’s really pretty when she puffs up all mad. She thinks anything adult is weird so don't hold your breath Talah. That’s right. That’s my name now. Talah. Hidden wants me to be Fodder, but screw him. I’m Talah.

I think that’s it for tonight. I should climb up on the roof for the last smoke and clean my gear. Oh! Vel. Mom. She gave me dinner money and cigarettes tonight. She seemed very out of it, but I wasn't sure if that was normal or not so I didn't ask. I think her and Zaer must have a conspiracy going because every time I ask her for something she gives it to me. I think. It feels right at least to write that so I’m going with it.

Leona has a bank job coming up. I think I’m going to help her with keeping an eye on the guards even if I'm not suppose to help. I also convinced her to talk to another operative about it. She can’t tell Reed for some reasons. What did Reed do to piss off Hidden this time? What is he planning? Maybe this Shade character can help me figure it out. I should be able to make at least one more entry here before that happens, and I doubt the worst will happen, but just in case…

Don’t forget the little red girl, she likes me a lot.

Be wary of Atlas.

Fuck Reed and whatever he’s planning.

Don’t lose your Dad’s again.

Keep distance from the Hot Headed Wet Blanket.

Don’t die.

Lee named me Talah.

Since moving into the Ryder estate he quickly took on the rhythm of the manor like it was his own. Adaptable. When he wasn’t busy spending time with Leona or teasing Neri at the archery range he started to make it his business to ‘shadow’ one of his new guardians. Only it looked rather a trailing duckling than any reconnaissance.

In the mornings he trailed Zaer, helping with the most vulnerable of hatchlings he brought home and even started cleaning up the makeshift nursery to give the dragonsworn more time to pack and prepare for his day at the Atlas Rookery. Neither man nor boy spoke much, only what was necessary to ensure this bottle was grabbed there, blanket put here, or perhaps the occasional question on dragon physiology. A little premature red hatchling in particular helped the pair bond, the one time Talah was really inquisitive in the early hours, even if the newly crowned father figure worried the kid was bored with him, it never showed. They didn’t touch, not after the last time Talah had jumped as if struck over nothing, but the teen often stood close enough to share in his mentor’s personal bubble as he watched, learned, and mimicked.

As it neared breakfast time, and Zaer was already gone for the day, the youth would keep crouched on the end rail of their bed, no matter how many times he startled Flynn awake he would wait patiently for the man to awake, always with the hope - not expectation - of getting fed. The one time he had stolen cookies to his perch had left him just barely scolded, but it was enough to wait for a proper meal or take none at all.

With the rogue he was far more chatty. Snarky. Full of troubling stories told in ways that seemed too innocent. “This mission that most people wouldn’t survive was amazing,” was a frequent confession. Blindly ignorant to simple pleasures of life, “What’s a milkshake?” Wasn’t the last question demanded of the demonic guardian. He talked of Leona a lot… but he tried not to too much. It was only that his memory was so clear when it came to her. There had only been the one muddy moment between them and even then she had filled in the blanks, as embarrassing as they were. Not that he told Flynn about that moment…

He took his cooking training with the same seriousness as he did from the dragonsworn: watched, learned, mimicked. The fact that Flynn rolled his eyes every time he called it ‘training’ and not simply ‘fun’ wasn’t lost on him, but he lacked the language to accurately describe it otherwise. Neri would have demanded that anything ‘fun’ not be treated with such a studious nature and shaken his shoulders until he loosened up, so it was clearly not fun.

Man if she would just keep that awful voice to herself… she would be alright, but the moment that ‘GOR!’ passed her lips the illusion was shattered and lamented such while he paced after the lord of the estate about his daily routine.

It was almost like the boy enjoyed spending time around Flynn, almost. Then he would hear Leona on the comm and with a brush to the elder’s arm he would simply be gone. Left, forgotten, abandoned… at least until dinner time, where he returned just in time to clean up and settle at the table without apologies as he begged for a meal. Teenagers. Maybe for once he could be one and not...

Fodder. He repeated the name in his mind over and over until it felt like second nature again. Standing in Hidden’s office, Leona’s mind warped by the poison he demanded of her… he tried to remain calm and on the outside he was still the assassin he had been forged into, but inside now was Talah, wishing he had told Zaer where he was. And the sadistic boss before him could read every bit of him, inside and out.

He argued with his ‘boss.’ The older man, more manipulative, monstrous, mesmerizing. He had to give Hidden credit for having everything so well in hand. For having them exactly where he wanted them. They argued over Leona, over dragons again and the pit in his gut of how disappointed Zaer would be in him for even entertaining the notion of enslaving them burned in his chest. I don’t mean it Dad… It's just to keep Leona safe for now!

Hidden reached over to touch under Talah's chin, practically affectionately as he read into his features. He had been at this job far too long, knew the boy in all his incarnations… he saw when he was losing his focus. Himself on a razor sharp edge, there was only one thing that could be done to protect them both. He would at least aim for scars Fodder already had, no need to mark up his fourteen year old frame more than necessary. The moment he could distract the boy the dagger sank in. No apologies. No explanation. He would get what he wanted and Fodder would understand again.

The punch to his back stung, wet, sharp and led to the broken slice through his chest he knew all too well. It was the same waxing pain his had had felt only days before through his hand and left a bleak looking future. He couldn't listen to whatever Hidden whispered to him, let alone what he told Leona then. It was just imperative that they get out. She had to be safely away from him before he died, there was no telling what the massive rogue would do to her…

"Please just...if you get hurt, even if it's something little, please don't hide it okay? I won't ever get mad at you for getting hurt..." Flynn’s voice rang through his thoughts over the pain and while Leona fussed and panicked over where to go, Talah was certain. For the first time in many tiny, short lives, the boy found adults he trusted. They would protect them. Protect her when he was gone again. It would be okay. Just explaining all that… all that came out was “The parents.” And off the two went. ...Why couldn’t he trust them just a moment sooner? It spat in the face of everything he knew, but he held onto the notion. ‘Please don’t hide it okay?’ ...I won’t hide it Dad… I promise.