06-09-2015, 09:26 PM
We are at war. There will be scars.
It is the smell that gets him, long before there is any question of hearing or seeing. It smells like death, like rot, but in an unnatural way that has him immediately worried. As he gets closer, he can tell that whatever it is seems to be creeping, picking its way through the landscape with a disconcerting subtlety, a strange knowledge that somehow sets every muscle and bone and sinew in his young body on edge.It does not surprise him to see his mother, flanking the creature on the other side. Straia's multicolored body weaves in and among the trees exactly like Erebor's black one, but she does not move on the creature, and he takes his cues from her. They are truly mother and son in that moment, two shadows trailing something undead, something horrific, something (entirely unbeknownst to him) that he is related to.
The thing makes its way out of the forest, and again Erebor lets Straia take the lead. He pauses when she pauses, approaching when she approaches, still silent, warily watching both the nightmare-thing and his mother. And so he doesn't miss it when she pauses, doesn't fail to see the way she looks at the creature with fascination and something else that he can't quite identify. But she is not afraid, and so he is not either. Wary, perhaps, but not afraid.
His mother greets the thing, and calls it father, and the boy is slightly taken aback as he puts the pieces together. His weight shifts back onto his haunches and he draws in a sharp breath. Perhaps his mother will be able to tell that he is a touch surprised, but there are so few clues, so few cracks in his martial demeanor that might give it away.
He has heard of Rodrik, heard how he held the throne before Straia. He's heard plenty of things, but none of it has been recent. None of it has prepared him for this moment when he will meet his grandfather. Luckily, he's saved from having to respond immediately by the arrival of Kavi. It's shaping up to be a proper family reunion now, much like the one where his mother had first summoned him from the burnt husks of the pine trees to meet Kavi and Bergamot. But at that little gathering, no one had been a rotting corpse.
Kavi greets Rodrik with a quip, and Erebor is busy looking between the three of them, trying to figure out the exact topography of the relationships. He isn't sure how to react to Rodrik; should he call him grandfather and reveal himself? Should he wait for Straia to introduce him? For the first time in quite some time, the black boy is actually at a loss for words. And so he says nothing, tucking himself into their group with his eyes fixed on Rodrik, uncharacteristically silent.
Erebor
Native Prince of the Chamber
warship x straia