The Sight

Chapter 3 - I fail a skill check

Sobriety hits me like a freight train. I wake up to alarm bells or something, ringing through the fort. Flynn mumbles to ignore it and pulls a pillow over his head. I decide to not ask any follow up questions and curl up hugging a pillow.
The next time I wake up sun is streaming in the moss covered window and I am sick as the proverbial dog. I mumble 'hospice' and 'Dr Kevorkian' a few times but Flynn ignores me, just helping me to the bathroom to vomit . There's nothing on my stomach but that doesn't stop me from trying to heave my guts out into an ancient porcelain toilet.
Flynn loyally helps me back to bed, where I lay there moaning. I desperately want to end all of this and the idea to just jump out the window won't leave my head. I'm shaking uncontrollably and sweating. Flynn brings me a cold coke but I throw it back up as soon as its passed my lips.
After what feels like several hours of this Neath shows up, bearing a bottle of scotch.
"You're beautiful and I love you," I say, holding out my shaking hands. I like scotch better than vodka.
"Just don't tell anyone," he winks.
"Will that help?" Flynn asks, incredulous.
"I don't know but he'll die more comfortable," Neath says.
He lets me do a couple of shots out of the bottle and half fills a coffee cup.
"You drink that and you're the one babysitting him all night," Neath advises.
"Got it," Flynn holds up his hands, "Come on though."
Neath rolls his eyes and lets him do a shot out of the bottle. "Pizza okay?"
"From the wharf?" Flynn asks, hopefully.
"I'm not your fairy godmother. No. I'm not going on the mainland. Commissary pizza," he says.
Flynn shrugs.
"Get back to work. You. First and last time I give your sorry ass a drink," Flynn says, topping off the coffee cup.
"Understood completely," I say, still shaking.
I don't know if the alochol helps but I appreciate it. I spent the next few hours sipping it and sleeping. I wake up the smell of pizza, and staggar into the main room to find Flynn curled up watching Jurrassic Park on his laptop, with what is possibly the worst pizza I have ever seen.
"It's gross but it's pizza," Flynn clarifies, "You care what we watch?"
"I'm going to be watching the back of my eyelids," I say, sipping my scotch. It's good scotch too which I think was nice since I'm going to die.
I try a piece of pizza, it's gooey with cheap cheese, way too much tasteless red sauce, and the crust is thick and greasy. Perfection in my current state, I know it's bad but like, I'll take it. I manage to choke down a piece before I'm nodding off again. The scotch is at the very least a good sleep aid. I down the rest of the coffee cup and pass out to the sounds of people getting eaten by dinosaurs.
I wake up at midnight feel much more lucid. Flynn has gone to bed but he left the laptop on some Netflix show I don't know. I turn it off to save the battery and crawl back in bed.
When I wake up the sun is shining in the windows and my phone is on. 2% but it says its eight am. I feel hungry, and a hell of a lot better. Not totally there, but intensely more lucid, so much so it actually hurts.
I can smell coffee and the sounds of general activity from the kitchen. My bag has my clean mental hospital stuff, so I put on a plain white t-shirt, elasticlass pants, and toe into my shoes. My other clothes are vomit stained and soaked with sweat.
"Morning," I say, coming to lean in the doorway.
"Hey, you got me out of drills twice, nice going. You feeling better?" Flynn asks, cheerfully.
"Infinitely," I smile thinly.
"I told El you were starting to come around, she's gonna come over. Coffee order?" He asks.
"Am I gonna get an Americano with three additional shots of espresso or is this like the pizza?" I ask.
"This is us using Colm's Nespresso machine which he bought with Council funds but conveniently put his office and we sneak in and use, becuase we're assholes.  I mean, you and me totally aren't supposed to, but El is THE ElderBlade it is her fort she can use it," Flynn explains.
"Dark as possible, espresso, no cream," I say.
"Gotcha," Flynn says, texting. He has an android with a cracked survivor type case. He has anime stickers all over his though.
"I was out yesterday, did I say anything?" I ask, frowning.
"The phrase ' just fucking shoot me' came up a few times," he says.
"Yes, and I think I owe Neath a life debt for scotch or my hallucinations are fucking brilliant,' I say, accepting a cup of pour over coffee.
"Nope, he was here, and enjoy it while it lasts he will not enable under age drinking again, seriously—he's El's uncle, I don't know if it was said," Flynn explains.
"I did get that much, how come he doesn't have her—job?" I ask.
"He's a younger sibling, and his mom was regular, no sight, so he's not legitmate, strictly speaking. That's why he's here, like me. A lot of people thought the past elder blade, Luc Maddock, should have deligated to Neath or another warrior but he always wanted El," he explains.
"Hm," because she's a girl I presume.
"Are you—sure you're up to this and feeling okay?" He frowns.
"Yeah, intensely better, why?" I ask.
"Your a little—," he spins a hand.
I raise my eyebrows.
"Your aura is—,"
I cock my head.
"Different."
"Well I was drugged out of my head so," I say, going to sit down.
He takes a long pause then, "Do you ever blink?"
"Not really that was a side effect of the drugs," I say.
"Was changing your expression also a side affect of the drugs?"
"I suppose," I say, leaning back. God I haven't been this sober since I was eight years old and feral in Edinburg. That was a good year.
Flynn doesn't get the chance to ask anymore, because Elin arrives with a tray of coffees, as well as breakfast rolls. Clearly pre-packaged but I'm suddenly hungry. The coffee is in chipped souvenir mugs from the Olympics, which is interesting but I decide not to ask. Elin is dressed in a track suit, dark blue with a strange insignia I just guessed is our cult. The pin of a sword is on one lapel, I assume because she's the blade. Her hair is pulled back in two french braids then wrapped up into a bun. No sword today but it looks like she came from a work out.
"Back in the land of the living?" Elin asks, handing me a cup of still hot coffee. So whatever office she pilfered it from is close.
"If that's where we are, I wouldn't hazard a guess," I smile, slowly.
"Is he not creepy sober?" Flynn asks.
"He looks fine," Elin says, looking at her phone one more time. She has a glittery otter box case and inside a baby blue phone. I catch a glimpse of her home screen and it looks like a landscape. "How bad was it? Neath said you were puking your guts out."
"I'm not complaining I got to sleep in. Twice," Flynn says.
"Better now that it's over," I say, lining my fingers up.
"All right, if you're feeling up to it I'm writing you into drills tomorrow," Elin says, "Not tonight, I don't want to have to med-evac you out."
"No complaints here," I say.
"Plus we have to get you to the commisasary for your uniforms, pick your sizes, plus any personal items you need. Normally you'd do all this in processing downstairs, and be assigned a general schedule. But. Because of your age I'm not throwing you in with everyone else. Juvenile record or not you're still a minor, which happens just not very often," Elin says.
"A few people have said that—elaborate," I say, holding out a hand.
"Most people who have the sight, just randomly, trick of DNA some recessive gene—aren't that good at it. They can see things generally and monsters go for them," Elin says, "Shadows, think they hear footsteps, that kind of thing."
"General haunting nonsense," I say.
"Correct. You—even on a fuck ton of drugs you saw entire creatures enough to describe them," Elin says, "Which means you're as strong as one of us."
"Old families," Flynn clarifies.
"Oh. So you think my birth family is one of the cult," I say, spinning a hand.
"I don't think anything, genetics can be weird—and since you don't have contact it doesn't actually matter but I'm sure Colm will think it will," she says.
"Fair. I mean if my biological father is one of the—enlightened—then he may well not know I ever existed because it was a one night stand with a mortal," I say, "So irrelevant. I don't actually care to break up a family or the like it's thirteen years late. I don't need a family. I don't nor ever have needed anyone I can't walk away from in thirty seconds."
"That's a quote from Heat," Flynn says.
"And it's a good quote," I say, toasting him with my coffee, "This is actually okay."
"Right it's not that bad I'm ordering more pods," Elin says.
"so sorry for the side track, go on," I say.
"No you're fine, ah, so, I spent last night going over the schedule, and I'm putting on drills with Flynn, you two are our only minors right now except Colm's son Freddy but he lives with his dad and I live with me," she says. I assume she means being her she has her own quarters.
"Fine by me," I say.
"You're general guard, right now no shifts or patrols till we assess your weapons skills," Elin says.
I nod, serenely, like my dumbass strategy in any fight isn't to insult as many people as possible then keep insulting them while they beat the shit out of me.
"If we do do a mission you're shadowing one of us and we have to go out with adult Guards, but that is not right now, tomorrow after drill we'll go down to the vault and you can see what weapon clicks—not everyone can handle all weapons, like I'm the only person who can handle Lucidity, but like generally only certain weapons bond with certain people, I can use most of Flynns but like my uncle's axe will not even let me pick it up," Elin explains.
"Fun," I smile a little.
"Purchase card, this gets you credits at the commissary. Credit card for any missions, this is an expense account someone like me reviews it so, if you're out in the field and buy food that's obvious but I'm going to at least want the story if you total a rental car," Elin explains.
I smirk, taking the two slim cards, "You have such a good assessment of my personality and driving skills."
"Get him down to the commissary fitted, and settled in so we can do drills in the morning, I'm gonna try to use this to get us onto the mainland to get him some clothes he does not need to walk around like this when he's not at drill," she says, gesturing to me generally.
"I have clothes and live like a person. My foster mum has two duffle bags of my  things," I say.
"Colm has to do those requests because he and I were in a duty paperwork war and he won that," Elin says, rolling her eyes, "I asked him why he didn't take any of your stuff I got mumbled at. We'll try to get it."
"It's no contact I assume? Do you know what my foster mother was told?" I ask.
"Some line that you were taken for treatment and testing and are fine but they're evaluating a fit in a new home. Sometimes it's something nice like you found long lost family," Elin says, sympathetically, "You can call and say you're fine if you want when we're back on the mainland but for safety you need to ensure that they are satisfied you're gone. Monsters come after us a fair amount. "
"I see us getting onto the mainland to look for the Fury?" Flynn says, eagerly.
Elin raises her eyebrows, smiling.
"This wouldn't be the thing that picked off a bus?" I ask, picking up a scone.
"Yeah. Black Furies are deadly, untabmable. Most dragons are tamed, but these things get woken up. They're killers. My father killed one once, and my blade is the only thing that can, so that makes it my responsibility to end," Elin says, "They don't show up a lot, but when they do..."
"Buses get lifted. Right," I say, "I'm glad to help I make a great distraction."
"Oh the powers that be are against her doing it," Flynn says.
"We do need more research, I don't even know where it's nesting—yet," Elin says, "I'm trying to track it, your sighting helped."
"You hear back from the dragon people?" Flynn asks. 
"Some old families can bond to dragons, we blame them for waking it up I issued a warning that they need to own up or help," Elin says, "And yes, they're sending a representative in a few days to 'help' so sorry can't believe it no they would never—yeah I assume they woke it up even by mistake."
"Drama, I love it," I say.
"Never boring. All right—I've got revisions, you good showing him around?" Elin asks Flynn.
"Yeah, sure, you coming to the mess for dinner?" Flynn asks.
"No, don't do that to him. Come to my room I'm in the process of wearing Neath down into getting us takeout he's doing a mainland run today," Elin says, holding up her phone, "Allergies? Speak now if you don't like Chinese."
"None I eat anything," I say. It's a standard answer. No preferences, nothing to remember me by, never a worry. Easy way to get by in foster homes. I learned all too quickly the odd request like no cheese on pizza, would end iwth argument and being forced to eat it anyway.
"Okay, dealers choice then, all right, I'm going to get to studying," Elin says.
She heads back to her room, and Flynn and I polish off the last of the scones, our mouths too full of scone to say anything of meaning. After affirming that I have nothing better to wear even down to the commissary, Flynn and I depart. He's in a graphic t-shirt and jeans, and the trainers from beneath his bed. It seems uniforms aren't required when not on drill. That said, compared to my hospital clothes, I'm eager for just uniforms.
The fort is in a semi-circle, with near Roman architecture in the hallways. Most of the other inhabitants of our floor are stirring, mostly in PT gear though some in street clothes.
"Over eighteens, eighteen through twenty one is our squadron, but we're technically just junior guard till we turn eighteen. Like we said, it's you and me and Freddy, then of course Elin but she's technically a full member. She passed all her trials at twelve becuase they let her," Flynn says.
"Let? Combat trials?" I ask.
"Not actual, just tests like exactly like our drills but you have to do it right and have so many successful missions," he explains, leading us to a stairwell.
The commissary is on the first floor, across from a mess hall which looks busy even at this non-lunch hour. We aren't going in there though, instead Flynn guides me sharply thorugh another set of oak doors.
"Avoid it like the plague, Elin usually gets us out of it so take what we can get," he advises.
the commissary itself is basically a standard mini mart type of situation, with a grocery on one side and home stuff on the other. In this case, there's rows of PT uniforms identical to what Elin was wearing earlier, but there's a small selection of shoes and a few choices of socks and undergarments.
Flynn guides me there first, rapidly chattering through recommendations on sizes and materials for the socks. I go with his recommendations blindly, getting a pair of lace up shoes my size.
"Three shirts, three pants, then each month you get like $200 for the market, I always just buy food," Flynn elaborates.
I get the shirts, pants, and underwear, and apparently we each get one zip up jacket. Flynn guides me through the wracks, quickly pointing out which shirts are better quality than th others. They're all basic, no style, with the same little logo on all of them. On closer inspection it's a sword crossed with an axe, inside a firey wheel. I generally assume it's the cult symbol or rather the guard insignia, and leave it at that. Flynn sees fit to narrate though.
"The sword is lucidity, the only blade able to kill a dragon, the axe is held by the captain of the guard who traditionally carries an axe. Right now Roy is captain, and Neath is his second, the wheel of fire is the center of all magic, any mortal who enters get's their deepest desire and their worst fear granted. It's location is unkown but some claim they've been there—the last ElderBlade, El's dad, he claimed he'd visited there after a vampire hoard captured him, no one actually believes it and it's not like we need to find it anyway," Flynn narrates, helpfully infact.
it sounds like the sort of stupid shit I'd get involved in so I keep my mouth shut, instead trying to guess sizes. I still usually wear youth stuff, and these are all adult clothes. Finally I just use both my braincells at the same time and go to women's. It's still the exact same style but the sizes are a bit smaller. I do grab the smallest boxers they have though and hope they'll fit.
"Here," Flynn holds up a backpack.
"I don't need a backpack."
"I've seen your backpack, yes you do," he says.
I roll my eyes, walking past him.
"I think I liked you better chatty when you were high," Flynn groans. As soon as he says he winces a little, "I didn't mean—,"
"I know what you meant. It's fine. I'm well aware I'm a wiseass with the personality of sandpaper," I say, snapping my fingers, "But it's better than the alternative. I don't think about death so much."
"Whose death?"
"Mine. And everyone's," I say, going on towards the pharmacy portion of the commissary. I actually have toothpaste and a toothbrush, and bar soap, I was ready for the hospital. I do snag some excedrine, for the caffeine if nothing else, along with a few bandaids and gauze, as well as Listerine. I know myself. At worst if I need the alcohol to mellow out I can drink the listerine. If not then it's fine antiseptic when not if I get hurt. I'm mindful to pack it all into one small basket. The clothes I can discard, everything else of value like the first aid stuff can go in my bag. Nothing I can't walk away from.
I'm busy trying to find a price tag on socks, when Flynn pulls me down beneath the rack of clothes.
"What are we doing?" I hiss.
"Shh, Colm's right there, this is a gut reaction," he says.
Colm is in fact a row over, but to my surprise he's standing with Neath. They appear to be in heated conversation. Thankfully I can read lips, for reasons not currently important to the plot.
"Well? Is he yours?" Colm is asking, lip curled in scorn.
"No. Don't you think I'd say if he was? Or already have him here?" Neath asks.
"He looks like you. And has the same smart mouth, and sight like that?" Colm says.
"This is apparently news to you but people don't have to be related to have green eyes and light hair. And I'd have said something if I thought that," Neath says.
"You were rather kind with him. He's a delinquent."
"He's fourteen, yeah he's a wiseass, but he's a kid. It's called being nice," Neath says, walking on past him.
Flynn looks at me pointedly, "Could you hear?"
"No," I don't lie.
We wait a few monuments till Flynn deems it safe for us to duck out. By then Colm and Neath are both long gone.
I look briefly at the actual office supplies, real pencils and markers, then think better of it. I don't need to waste the bag space if I run. I have no clue where I am out of the hallucination. I'm happy not breaking it, but sober I'm probably pretty safe. The last time I disassociated this badly it was three months, I was sober, and they claim two people died. I think it was more. I'm set on having my fun, last time was a hell of a trip, but I also want to be careful. 
I leave the pencils and go on towards the food.
"We aren't supposed to take anythign back to the dorm, but drinks are fine," Flynn reminds me, "That said nobody's gonna notice, that is I'm not going to rat you out, if you want a few candy bars or something to hide by your bed. They don't do the inspections on us that much and at worst El will have to make us do pushups. Worth it for the snacks if you ask me."
"Pass," I say, considering I don't know how to do a push-up. I'm used to hospital rules where I truly had to hide food. And those dinners weren't adequate. If I have somthing to drink I'll be fine. I pick a couple of sprite, which are filling, as well as a few cokes since I think I owe Flynn some from while I was really sick. I'm tempted to get energy drinks, but I don't need to mess with my own head. I know from experience alcohol, as a depressant, does better than caffeine even if I'm tempted to have a cup of coffee to wake up.
Flynn picks up a handful of candy bars anyway, and a few packs of gummy bears.  I don't know how much money is on the card so I ignore the treats, in favor of looking at the basic housewares. I don't need anything I can't walk away with, but they're offering and I'd like to be comfortable. I pick a better set of blankets, basic grey but they look warm, another pillow, and a comforter. I also find a pair of rubber shower shoes that should work around the barrack as house shoes, that way I don't have to wear just my trainers or go barefoot. I prefer being barefoot but this place is cold, and I've had athelete's foot too many times to risk it.
Flynn follows me aimaibly, only offering a couple of reccomendations on the blankets.
"We are going to the mainland in a few days," he says.
"I don't have money," I point out.
"That's what hte purchase card is for. You're thirteen no one expects you to have money."
That wasn't how I thought the world worked but I let it go. In homewards they have a few mugs and insulated thermos cups. I pick a large one, that way I can have water by the bed.
"Get a sports bottle for drills, trust me you will want it," Flynn says.
I obey, picking out a pale blue bottle with a sport cap. There's a frozen food section, but Flynn points out we can't take anything up so we pass it. Apparently the adults off probation not actual criminals, for example Colm, can take things to their quarters. I assume so can Elin.
At checkout, a very regular looking lady rings us up. She has no real reaction to us as kids doing this, nor me. I present the cards that Elin gave me, she selects the proper one and then rings me out.
"You have a couple of uniforms left on it, and food, it'll be on your receipt," she says.
"Thank you," I intentionally smile politely, collecting the paper brown bags she packed my things into. Flynn checked out at another register and circles back to join me, sweeping in to pick up a bag. There were four bags and I was struggling to get them all in my arms.
"Thank you," I say, gathering up the remaining three.
"Sure, gummy bear?" he asks, opening a pack of candy.
"You don't have to do that," I say, aware I could have bought them.
"I know, hold out your hand idiot," he says.
He pours the sugary gummies into my waiting palm, generously enough I have to tip my hand so that they don't spill. I've spent too much time in institutions to turn down candy, but even after regular school sharing it still feels foreign.
"Well, my father said they pulled something out of an asylum."
We both turn at the sound of the voice. A leggy teen is leaned against one wall, eating a packet of almonds. He's got dark hair that's cut fashionably into curtain bangs, and overall he looks like Colm. I'm guessing this is his son. He looks like year eleven, so probably Flynn's age.
"Hi Freddy,  great first impression," Flynn says.
"Looks sickly why is it here?" Freddy asks, walking around us like I'm a rescue dog.
"Got in trouble for fucking your mom," I say, automatically. There is no break between what he says and what I said it was pure instinct.
"And got a mouth. Do you have a name, rescue-boy?" Freddy asks.
"Look he just got here and he's sick from those drugs," Flynn says.
"First name Go, last name, FuckYourself," I say, raising my middle finger, "Find something else to abuse, bitch." It's very important that this kid is a foot taller than me and definitely lifts. I will lose this fight. There is no way I will not lose this fight.
"Can't wait till you mouth off in drills, they're going to eat you alive," Freddy just laughs, "Seriously where did it come from? The gutter?"
"I told you, your mom's bed. She sends her love," I say.
At this point Flynn so wisely chooses to drag me away.
"He's coming off drugs let's drop it, Freddy," Flynn says, just tugging me away as Freddy prepares to lunge.
"He's not going to last a day," Freddy says, but he looks red faced.
"Already been here a day, fuckwad, your mom has to sleep sometime," I call, as Flynn simply drags me bodily away.
"What the hell?" Flynn growls, as soon as we're out of earshot. Physically dragging me isn't going well with all of our shopping bags but he's managing.
"Oh. I have an attitude problem," I say, very nicely, "I'm sorry I thought you knew? My file? PDDNOS, ODD, Hyperactivity disorder, childhood schitzophrenia, DMDD, IED, BPD, and the rest of the alphabet soup? I told them it would be quicker to write 'wiseass' but remarkably they quit taking my suggestions."
"Well tone it down. He's an asshole but he's the Grandmaster's son, just ignore him, and don't talk to him. I don't. And please don't make cracks about his mom. In case you didn't notice it hit a nerve," he says.
"That's why I kept doing it," I say.
He groans, "HIs mom left him and his dad. She's back in Canada never sees him."
"Hm. He shouldn't talk shit to me unless he wants what I can dish out," I say.
"Just—don't make it harder for yourself okay? He's not worth you winding up in detention," Flynn says.
He's been nice to me so I concede that. I don't want to get him in trouble. I just have a nonexistent tolerance for jerks. That's my problem. It's why I shouldn't honestly be in society but whatever. Living in the woods, feral was 'wrong' and 'indicative of a mood disorder' and 'unsafe'. 
We hike back to the room, and I mentally try to quiz myself on the route. It's circular so not too hard. I'm panting by the time we reach the top of the stairs and fully out of breath when I make it to the room.
Flynn produces sandwiches from one of his bags, and chips. He also tosses a case of colored pencils at me.
"What—," i stare at them. They're crayola brand, nothing fancy even, but I never get pencils when I"m hospitalized.
"You obviously wanted them. I figured you'd argue with me if I said just to buy them. It's fine you can draw or whatever it's not like you even have a good cell phone," he says.
"Thanks," I say, quietly, looking down at the set and trying to mentally fit them in my bag. Nothing I can't walk away from.
"Here, roast beef or ham and cheese?" He asks.
"Don't care no preference," I say, automatically.
He shrugs and tosses me the ham and cheese. It's pre packed with a little packet of mayo and mustard. I put all of both on the sandwich, and we eat standing in the kitchen. Flynn isn't too dedicated to explaining more of our weird cast system, instead listing th movies he has downloaded and streaming services he has access to. I'm not usually invested in any of that, and watch whatever my foster family picks or is playing in a group home. That sound depressing to say so I just agree and nod.
We spend the next couple of hours me putting things away and cutting tags off, him still narrating various food stores we might get to go to, and what movies he thinks he can download or wants to watch. I don't have a vested interest so I try to just be politely interested.
I cut the tags off the clothes, and distribute it into the meager dresser. It's big enough for these few things, though, and I stack most of it in the top drawer. The PT clothes are better than my mental patient clothes, however I don't want to just dress in PT stuff. So I opt to put on a pair of sweats and a wifebeater that I had for the hospital. Is not casual but it looks a little more practiced. It's cool in here, but I'm used to ignoring it. Most hospitals are super cold and I never had enough clothes or blankets. Age about five I figured out how to ignore it. I like the weight of a hoodie, but I don't have one and the PT zip up doens't look that warm.
I change mostly in the bedroom while Flynn chats, because I have no degree of privacy and he lives here. Once turn my back though to fold my old clothes for the laundry I feel his eyes on me.
"What? Did I bruise up bad from last night?" I ask.
"No, sorry," he says, looking away.
"I wouldn't be surprised if I did—oh you're looking at the scars," I realize, looking over my shoulder to try to see bruises. I have a few but they're not stare worthy. However the long, elegant white scars that lace my upper arm and wrap all the way down to my forearm, are. My left arm is worse than the right because I'm right handed, however my right has a good share too.
"It's fine, seriously. I'm not a cutter," I say, holding up a hand to show cuts on my wrist, "One cocktail of meds seriously screwed me up. They figured depressed was better than hyper and defiant. I was doing this to stay awake and feel something. Months before the group home noticed. then I kept getting razors.  I knew it was the drugs but I couldn't not take 'em. So one day I got sick of it. Slit my wrists and thighs and told them to take me to an ER. They never put me on those meds again and I got a new case worker. This was a couple of years ago. I finally got a better cocktail and group home after that, and then a good foster mom. But this isn't me. It just happened to me."
"Shit," Flynn says, quietly, "I didn't..."
"You didn't tknow. I'm lucky I'm still alive they had me going so bad," I shrug, "I forget it's there. At school I would wear hoodies and shit to cover it up."
"Do you want to borrow something?" He asks, "That way you don't have to talk about it if—as a random example someone like Freddy sees you in the hall?"
"If you've got something you don'T care about. I quit worrying about it, fuck everyone. And what they think," I shrug.
"Here," he sorts in his dresser to find a big black hoodie with a Manchester United logo, "Keep it. I got it when we went to a game just to keep warm I don't like football."
"Nor do I. Thank you, I'll return it when I get my clothes," I offer.
"Keep it, seriously, it's extra anyway," he says.
I accept because covering up probably wold be a good idea. The sweatshirt is two sizes too large for me but it covers my arms. Flynn is texting. I wonder if he's telling Elin I have cutting scars, then decide not to care. If he is it's likely to warn her just to be nice so she doesn't make me repeat it. They've had nothing but good intentions so far, I should trust that. Flynn finally looks up from his phone and declares that it's time to go up and have dinner. Apparently Elin is a floor above us.
Once again we leave, to go track up the stairs. Flynn is wearing slide sandles so I follow suit and wear my rubber sandles too, maybe we'll get to take them off in her room? Or he's just being comfortable.
A few other Guard members are in the halls but they don't really look twice at us. They're in plain clothes as well and either carrying laundry or some dinner item to go and share.
The top floor has a door at the top of the steps, unlike ours which is open to the hallway. Flynn nocks as a matter of form, and Elin quickly admits us to what turns out to be a normal apartment.
Except for the castle like windows along one wall, the room could be any swank apartment in London. The floor shag carpet, on one wall there's an impressive TV set including video game controllers. A sectional and two arm chairs surround a game table that's already set with drinks. On the far end of the room I can see a shiny kitchen, stainless steel appliances and all marble. It's comfortable, clean, and clearly upscale. But on a more sympathetic end, it looks like somebody's home. Shoes by the door. A couple of video games sitting out. A few thick throw blankets, even a couple of stuffed toys set up neatly in a basket by the TV. A book case with classics, as well as a few more personal touches. A well loved copy of fairy tales. A Winnie the Pooh collection. All on the lower shelf. Like baby Elin would pick a story then come crawl into her father's lap on the sofa for him to read it to her. I've been in a lot of houses, and this one is set up, like the occupants cared about each other. It's older furniture it's whatever her father had, soft rounded edges so his baby girl woudln't trip into it., low enough for a toddler to crawl on and a little basket for her toys. It's melancholy in a way, the quiet reminders of someone who should be here.
I shake the thoughts away. This place will become as toxic as any other. I have to remember that. All good memories turn sour once people's true colors show.
Glad you're back.
The inhuman whispering makes me jump, and my eyes go directly to Lucidity, in its scabbard hung by the door. Flynn doesn't react so I'm sure I alone heard the voice. But I don't say anything. I've been crazy long enough not to let it show.
"Commissary go okay? Neither of you want to demand a new roommate yet?" Elin asks, lightly, pointing at us both. She's in an oversized dark grey hoodie. It's an Oxford Alumni thing. Oh must be her father's? Probably it looks like a man's cut. She's wearing it over a pair of short shorts that show off muscled, if bruised legs. She has a couple of large bandiads patching her shins.
"Fall on rock?" I ask.
"Got it one, jog this morning actually after drill," Elin says, lightly.
"I fall down a lot. K-tape and gauze is going to keep that tighter," I advice.
"You do fall down a lot, yeah I got sick of bending over and trying to do it after the shower," Elin says, tugging at one half fallen off bandaid.
"Then sit the fuck down and point at where your medical stuff is," I say, walking towards the kitchen.
"On the counter in the basket," Elin laughs, sitting down obediently, "Are you an expert at first aid or something?"
"No, I spent all my points on constitution. I'm just a dumbass who falls down a lot," I say, picking up a very competent basket of medical supplies.
Flynn looks watchful as if concerned I'll be offended given yes I clearly have cut myself a lot. I suspect she doesn't know that, and I started the conversation so I don't care.
"Thank you, you're an asset to the team," Elin says, amused, sitting down on the long sofa.
"Oh I told Freddy I fucked his mom and I am always a critical failure on dexterity so feel free to revise that opinion," I say, moving her leg to check the bandage. It's nearly soaked through. She got herself good but a few faint scars betray that htis isn't the first time. I'm guessing being an ElderBlade isn'T exactly the safest profession.
Oh of course you take care of her.
So the sword just makes a commentary that's different I'm sure Frued would have a lot to say about that.
"One day. Damn it. Oh well I'll make up with Freddy for you, never speak again," Elin says.
"Ah no can do you're gonna have to shoot me," I say, spraying antiseptic on the wounds. They look clean she cleaned up fine, so I just carefully wipe around them.
"You know you're bloody lucky I bring you food," Neath enters, carrying a greasy bag of take out.
"I know that," Elin says, smiling. Uncle and neice don't a look much alike, he has fairer hair and ruddy skin, while she's dark haired with smooth olive skin. However, they act alike, with a similar self satisfied smile and tilting their heads identically when sassing the other.
Neath glances at us, me, and his expression isn't disdain but something inscrutable. He shakes his head a little, then goes on to the table dish out the food. Maybe he didn't know she hurt herself? It doesn't feel worth noticing she probably does this all the time.
"There," I finish sticking the last piece of k-tape around her shin, "Better?"
"Yeah not bleeding out on the sofa, thanks," she says, helping me gather up the wrap.
"Chicken fried rice, two orders, your sweet and sour shrimp," Neath reads off, handing his niece her fried shrimp, and then handing Flynn the rice.
"And Kung Pao chicken for me and Mongolian beef for you becuase you didn't specify," Neath hands me a big styrofoam box. I actually like that order which surprises me. I was prepared to eat anything.
"Yes the little fried salads," Flynn says.
"Oh my god they're called egg rolls," Elin says, handing us utensils. She and her uncle are using chopsticks. I don't have that kind of dexterity and pick a plastic fork.
"See this is why I shouldn't feed you," Neath says, lightly despite his somewhat surly demeanor, he apparently has no problem feeding us. He continues dispersing food, tossing a packet of it looks like some sort of dessert, at Elin, and tossing an entire greasy packet of wontons  directly at my face. I naturally don't catch them at all, which amuses him.
"You have to call 'skill check' before you do that or something," I say, retrieving them from the floor.
"Tell us what you want to eat and I won't throw different food at you," Neath says, throwing another packet directly at my face.
"If you feed him he's going to want to live with you and not me and now I've got someone to kill spiders for me,"Flynn says.
"He's skinny you should feed him too," Neath says.
The wontons all turn out to be beef. I don't like chicken so I'm pleased with Neath's random order. The others are equally happy, but so obviously more accustomed to the treatment. Someday I'll quit treating any halfway decent meal like manna from heaven. Today is not that day. I eat every scrap, liking the grease off my fingers. If Neath notices my starvation hes' polite enough not to comment.
"I put in for the passes to go on shore. Did you talk to Colm?" Elin asks.
"Yes he did find me in fact. More concerned wtih him," Neath says, "Those two saw they were hiding under a table."
"We didn't want to see him! It was a gut reaction," Flynn says.
"Good gut reaction you probably had baskets loaded with food for your room," Elin says.
I'm surprised Neath didn't lie, seeing us or not.
"What d'you mean concerned with him?" Elin asks, gesturing to me.
"He just wants gossip, if he's connected to a family we have some leverage—we're not always popular, but the Guard is what keeps the regular world, and of course us, safe," Neath says. That was basically true. He doens't really have cause to admit that Neath accused him of being my father. It's irrelavant when he's saying it isn't true. I tend to agree, we're both just blonde haired white guys we don't look that much alike. And he'd know. I feel a little bad, he's being nice to us and has been nice enough to me. He doens't have to he'd admit if I could be his kid. Unless he was embarrassed he didn't know maybe?
"Look, from what I'm hearing there's lots of people with the Sight wandering around, old families all that. I'm probably someone's one night stand. No hard feelings, like I'm going to assume my father didn't and still doesn't actually, know I exist, my fucked up life aside that's not his fault," I say.
"Genetics are complicated you could be related to no one—our doctor who you see tomorrow, Ivan, he came in like you, when I was little. He was a practicing doctor and this Griffen was loose he was the only one who saw it. Perfectly strong sight," Elin says.
"Why am I seeing a doctor? Is it like a physical? Can I not actually?" I ask.
"Yeah surely he had one from before we can use?" Flynn offers, quickly. I glance at him in silent thanks that he's backing me up. He knows about the scars. He doesn't know that's my least concern I just really really hate doctors. I dont' want this hallucination to end.
"Oh I just booked it after drill because I assumed you're going to injure yourself,' Elin says.
"I've never heard something so offensive. And totally accurate," I smirk.
She does too, half hiding behind a forkful of chicken.
"And in answer to your question, El, yeah, you're going on shore against Roy's better judgement. I'm well aware you're going to try to go dragon hunting while you're there," Neath says.
"I'm the only one who can slay it. I agree to as much back up as necessary," Elin says, shrugging, "But I have to find where it's nesting. I've tracked it's somewhere here on the coast all the attacks have been localized. We just need to spread out seers and actually find it."
"And we will, and are, tomorrow you and I and Roy go over patrols. Tonight you go to bed, because you have drills and yes, this weekend for some reason I'm taking you shits to a mall," Neath says, pushing his nieces' foot with his own. She smiles.
We finish up dinner quickly, and I volunteer to help  Elin carry the trash to the kitchen while Flynn and Neath move the chairs back. No one questions that I don't have the upper body strength to move a chair and I think that's beautiful.
The kitchen is modern, if well used. By one person though. It's all clearly Elin's stuff, her bottles to take to PT, some containers for lunches, a couple of unwashed bowls in the skin. I move to clean up that and our few untensils.
"Are you settling in all right?" Elin asks.
"Yeah," I can settle in anywhere. I realize it's probably foreign to her, the idea of never having a home. "I ah—I'm used to moving around. and what I said out there was true. I haven't had any family for so long. It's fine. I don't care anymore whoever they are that gave me up or never wanted me or didn't know about me. Doesn't matter."
She nods, looking down at the trash she's sorting into recycle, "If you change your mind I can try to find something out. But that's up to you. I can't imagine what that's like."
"Good. I mean. I know you had your stuff, you don't—have parents," I say.
"I have a mum. She's normal. My dad—he was with my mum but she didn't want a family like that. He had full custody till he died, i saw her a few times. After he died Neath is, was, my guardian because, obviously, all this. But real world wise my mum was you know, worried about me. So I see her a bit—she thinks I go to boarding school and stay over with Neath, then I go stay with her for some school breaks and holidays. She wasn't the one who wanted the kid, but we work out," Elin explains.
"That's nice, I guess. Your dad sounds cool," I say, gently. I'm glad she got cared for i was wondering who was watching her. She's supposed to save the world or something.
"He was. That's us," she points to a framed picture that's propped in the window.  it's a far away shot of a man and little girl standing on some rocks out in the ocean basically. He's wearing  dark cargos and a plain dark shirt, at a glance he looks like a smaller, leaner version of Neath. In his arms he's holding up a tiny Elin, who is wearing a little green sundress. both are smiling, clearly delighted with the day and one another. Elin leans her head against her father's self assured and happy.
"What happened to him?" I ask, quietly.
"Heart attack. I'd known—we'd known he had serious heart trouble since I was little. He was in heart failure and there wasn't anything they could do. He collapsed out walking on the beach, with me, one morning," she says, softly.
"I'm sorry," I say, aware how hollow it sounds.
"i think he knew, really. That's why he did it. He didn't want to die in some hospital, he took us out there that day and—asked me to go and get some shell he'd seen. I did and, when I turned around he'd collapsed. Most people'd probably think it was cruel, letting me be there like that but. I'm glad he was happy, outside, we were together, having a perfect day. I screamed, it—felt like forever till someone came," she says, taking a breath.
"That's terrible," I say. I can see the appearl of just walking off to let yourself die someplace quiet, however letting his like four year old see it was pretty bad. That said he might not have known he was that sick right then.
"Oh—it's—I'm sure it's nothing compared to your stuff. I mean I live here with my uncle and a dozen minders," she says.
"We're not—comparing stuff. Just because someothing worse happened to me doesn't mean that you can'T be upset about what happened to you that's stupid. If that were true no one else would have the right to be sad ever, because always out there there's something worse," I say.
"That's true. I'm glad I remember him. And he wouldn'T want me sad," she smiles a little, "He'd be glad I'm taken care of. And happy."
You had better look out for her.
I don't react to the sword's threat this time, just smiling at her, "No. He wouldn't. I mean—I know when I'm gone I want anyone who ever knew me to just go on and like, do something stupid and dangerous in my honor. That's it."
"No he wouldn't want me moping about," she says, "If he were here he'd be helping me go fight a dragon."
"I'm not saying I'll be a lot of help but I am a born distraction. I will gladly get set on fire as a part of a distraction," I say.
"Well let's avoid that—here what are you doing?" She laughs when she realizes I'm loading the dishwasher.
"Cleaning up I got dinner didn't I? I'm a foster kid I find chores for myself," I say.
"You two plotting in here?" Neath asks, coming into the open kitchen.
"No, he just cleans things now," Elin says, snapping me with a towel.
"Well go help your Flynn turn on the Xbox, you have like twenty minutes before I force you all to bed," he says, taking the towel from her.
"Okay, that's enough time for him to die twice," Elin laughs, but she obediently goes to help Flynn who is fussing with the TV without success.
Neath intentionally stays, watching me load the dishwasher., "You hear what Colm was saying to me?"
"I didn't hear anything. I read lips," I say, straightening up, "I just said I don't care. What else do you want?"
"It's not true. I promise. You're not my son," he says, "I would know, it isn't possible"
"I don't care either way. No one has ever been there for me. My father's jsut one more person. I'm assuming whoever he is didn't know I exist. So we can just drop it? I don't need you or anyone."
"Let's get this straight. You're not alone anymore. You are not my kid. But you're not alone, all right?" He asks.
"Fine," I've heard htis speech before. They always leave. Or I get taken away.
"You don't believe me," he frowns.
"I don't care. I genuinely don't," I say.
You'd better start caring, nitwit.
The sword is getting intense okay then. That's different.
"Okay," he sighs a little, reaching out to pat my shoulder then thinking better of it, "You feeling better off the drugs?"
"Definitely, improving. Thank you for the scotch by the way," I say.
"Don't mention it. As in literally do not mention it or tell anyone I supplied you with alochol,  he sorts for his hip flask, then pulls out a different one. He holds it out to me.
"Really?" I ask.
"Get you to sleep, you're still riding high off those, the worst ones were seventy tow hours to clear your system," he says.
I accept the hip flask, doing a shot. It's the same good scotch. Burns all the way down, a little woody. Yeah it's good stuff.
"Thanks," I hand it back to him.
"Again, tell no one," he says, putting it back in his pocket, "You need anything else? That's a no to more alcohol."
"Damn. No, a mall would be good so I can quit wearing Flynn's clothes," I say.
"In a couple of weeks," he nods, galncing at the others queuing up the game, "You know how to play tht?"
"No idea," I say.
"Come on then," he says, patting my back, "Hey the new kid says he's really good at that so you two had better put him on a hard level or something."
"Wow really?" I laugh.
"I was always going to do that to you," Neath laughs, doing another shot out of his own flask.
I of course am no good at it whatsoever, which concerns me, and only amuses Flynn and Elin, who trip over one another to tell me how to do it. They don't seem annoyed I can't play though, only entertained by teaching me. Neath watches for a few moments, then breaks us up with reminders that we have drill in the morning. I don't know what drill means but I'm assured it's early. Neath stays behind with Elin.  I ask what drill is and the sword laughs hysterically so I take that to be a terrible sign. Flynn assures me that I'll see when we get ther. For now we go back to our dorm room, where I drop off into a peaceful sleep. My belly is full, this bed is clean and the blankets are warm. I know it won't last. But I'll take it as long as my mind lets me.