tristranthorn | [027] OOM - Meet the Parents

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[027] OOM - Meet the Parents

As every good traveler knows, there must be a destination for which to head towards - otherwise, there is aimless wandering which makes for wasted time, wasted resources, and a more or less miserable time.

But as any good observer knows, Tristran and Yvaine do not follow rules whatsoever.

So the two companions - still terribly (and pathetically) in love - are doing exactly what good travelers do not: they are wandering aimlessly, wasting time and resources. Whether they are having a miserable time remains to be seen, though it is unlikely that they are even able to follow that part of the rule, anyway.

"You know," Tristran starts thoughtfully, turning to glance at the star, "it has come to my attention that you haven't met my family yet."

Why this thought suddenly springs up in the young man's mind is a mystery, but now that it has taken precedence in the forefront of his thoughts, he believes it important not to let it go.

"Before we left, I told my father about you," he continues. "And I am positive that my mother - my other mother - and my sister want to meet you too. What do you think?"

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The door is closed.

Very firmly closed. And locked from the inside.

The chair propped up under the doorknob as a makeshift barricade might be a bit much, but it's more of a silent statement than a real means of defense against the outside world.

Dinner was long.

Dinner was long and she was expected to actually eat it. Which was fine in and of itself, but then there were the questions - during which there were attempted explanations of things that neither of them really had answers for and further concerns about how she was far too skinny and did she want some more chicken - and then there came the whole nonsense of Tristran's Mother still being alive. (The woman somehow manages to cause trouble even when she isn't present to do so.)

And yet, somehow - Mother knows how, quite frankly - she's fairly certain that they were invited to visit again soon. Whenever they'd like. She's also fairly certain that Tristran's father had called her 'simply divine,' but that one she's managed to write off as some sort of vivid hallucination caused by far too much potatoes and having to eat her vegetables.

She rather thinks that she would like to sleep for at least a week and a half.

"Honestly Tristran," she mutters, muffled into the fabric of the pillow. "Did you tell them anything beforehand?"

It really was - well, for lack of any other word: exhausting.

Even now, after all of his rambling and awkward pauses, and questions that continuously streamed from his family's mouths like the food that seemed to appear out of no where (which he enjoyed immensely, if anyone asks), he isn't sure just how much they now know.

Tristran begins to take his jacket off, flinging it to the foot of the bed.

"Well," he starts, settling at the edge of the bed to pull his boots off for the moment, "...no. Not really, I suppose."

He turns to look over his shoulder at her. "I only got up to telling them about you when they wanted to see you. I didn't exactly have much time."

Plus there was the whole pathetic can't-wait-to-see-her-again feeling, while he was away.

Stop being charming, narration - we're trying to be cranky here.

She makes some vague sort of attempt to glare over at him, one very blue eye narrowing in a nearly threatening manner. (Not that it makes terribly much of a difference whether or not the glare is impressive, seeing as his back is to her - but it's the thought that counts.)

"That's hardly the point, dear," she replies, flicking his arm. "They're - well, they're - how shall I put this delicately? They are very good at interrogation."

Plenty diplomatic, she thinks. Much better than 'utterly terrifying when determined to get answers.'

The narration can do whatever it darn well pleases, thank you very much. And if that includes charm, well, so be it.

He starts to laugh a bit. "Yes, that is one way of putting it," he says with an easy shrug. "When you've got a daughter like Louisa, I suppose it all comes rather naturally. And nothing really surprises my mum and dad, either."

After all, look at their history. Mucking about with magical beings, raising half-Faerie boys, and generally being ~~odd~~ quirky - it isn't any wonder they've more or less made Yvaine part of their family already. (And the two haven't even hinted at marriage.)

(And just why haven't we hinted? Are we not good enough for hints? A girl could get ideas about her place here.)

"Clearly," her lips quirk slightly, still rather conveniently hidden somewhere against the pillow. "It probably makes me a terrible daughter, but I am very grateful that we don't have to do this the other way around."

She shifts slightly, pulling herself upright.

"It was more than enough the first time."

(Well, we can always donate some hints if you really want.)

Tristran nods, shifting as well, so he is better seated atop the bed.

"I wouldn't even know how to answer your mum or your sister's questions if I ever met them," he says. "So I suppose I'm grateful too."

(We don't need your donations here. This isn't charity-marriage, buster.)

"My mother would have questions," she laughs, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "My sisters, on the other hand, would be perfectly content to divide you amongst themselves for curious inspection. No questions asked."

(No? Oh. Must have the wrong house, then.)

"Either way, I'm not sure I'd be able to handle any of it."

He can imagine himself being pulled apart by a bazillion number of glowy, twinkling women for so-called 'curious inspection.'

"In fact, I'm quite certain I would not be able to handle any of it."

(Be sure to leave a pamphlet. The recycle bin is a bit empty.)

"Baby."

The grin widens for a moment before she does her level best to look utterly solemn. And innocent. That too.

"Scared of a couple girls, Prince Charming?"

Then again, there might be inappropriate-touching involved. It's probably best that it won't occur. Ever.

(Hey. The printing isn't very cheap, you know - this is TRUBLACK inkjet printing.)

"If, by a couple, you mean the entire sky of stars, Yvaine," he says squarely, turning to give her a very impressive SRS LOOK OF SRSNESS.

Plus, yeah. The inappropriate touching is definitely not something he would look forward to, as flattering as it might be. He is certainly not that sort of boy.

(That's some high-quality hinting there. The management will take this under advisement.)

"Oh, I hardly think that all of them could get their hands on you at once, dear," she rests her chin against his shoulder, ignoring his Look in favor of crossing her eyes.

(Well, you know. 'All in a day's work' and that sort of thing.)

"There would be more than enough," he says, rolling his eyes, before he has a thought. He straightens a bit. "Unless that is what you wanted."

He is vaguely reminded of when they'd gone to Fulkeston; there had been far too many girls, then, too many of them wanting a piece of him. It was as though he had suddenly become a very delightful dinner. He was no where near used to that sort of attention and he has a feeling this would be no different.

Fulkeston was miserable - much worse than her sisters.

She can, at the very least, yell at her sisters without fear of town-wide revolt.

"Yes, of course," she blinks her eyes back into focus, arcing a brow. "Because I've always been terribly good with sharing my things."

He flops an arm over his face.

"Well, I'm not a thing, for starters," he says, voice muffled slightly by the fabric of his shirt. "But that aside, I suppose it's a reassuring notion if we ever got into that situation."

Beat.

"Which we better not."

Ever.

"My favorite thing?" she chimes, smiling winsomely - though the effect is slightly lost through layers of fabric - and shifting herself comfortably into the vacated space at his side.

The buzz of her skin is still muted - after being prodded repeatedly the novelty kind of wears off. He makes her forget that she's odd even among the odd things here.

"We won't," she adds reassuringly. "Falling is a rather one-way trip, Tristran."

"You never know when it comes to this place," he says, pausing for a moment.

"Or when it comes to us."

Weirder things have happened, still. You know, what with sky pirates, fighting for the goblins, giant birds trying to eat them, a set of insane uncles (not to mention slightly unhinged birth mother), and telling stories to crazy villagers for eternity. And let's not forget the witches who tried so hard to cut the heart out of the love of his life. Ah, and then there was the dead unicorn.

Okay, so they don't exactly have the most impressive track record. At all.

No big deal.

"We will figure it out if and when it happens then," she's hoping that it stays an if for as long as is possible. "One would hope that we'll have enough time to recover from this debacle first, at the very least."

He uncovers his face, smiling as he pulls her closer towards him, one arm protectively snaking around her waist.

"Thank you for doing it, Yvaine," he says. "My family loved you, as I knew they would."

Well, all right, his parents definitely loved her. Louisa might take a little bit more work.

"If you say so, dear."

She's a little uncertain on the whole thing, but she's willing to believe him if he's convinced. A couple sips too many of faerie wine is just as valid of an explanation, really.

She smiles anyway. He's comfortable.

"I like this Mother much better than your other one."

And Louisa doesn't particularly have to like her - she can handle sisters either way. Parents are far more terrifying things.

"She's far more ..."

How shall we put this?

Sane?

... Yeah.

"Well, she's certainly different. I don't know my other one. And though I misunderstood her at first, I realize now how much she's done for me - and for my father."

Sane is possibly a diplomatic approach to the whole thing, yes.

And judging by the quiet laugh and the quick kiss pressed to his jaw, that particular thought-train was very neatly caught onto - and heartily approved of.

"They do fit rather well," she agrees, smiling softly before poking him lightly in the chest. "And I rather think your father is better at teasing you than I am. I will, however, put that down to having far more time to practice."

"They do, don't they?" He smiles happily, flinching only slightly when Yvaine pokes him. "I'm glad for it, too. Having all this out in the open seems to have done better for them."

He laughs.

"He's always had that talent, though. My sister and I provided him with endless hours of amusement. Am I really that easy to tease?"

"I'm pleased that there is some further benefit of this then," she replies, smoothing out the poking-damage with her fingers. "I'm rather fond of the outcome of their parenting, I must admit."

Her head tilts, contemplating him.

"And you're getting better at sticking up for yourself, at least."

It's much more fun when he teases back.

"Well, I suppose I have you to thank for that," he tells her, grinning. "After all this time, it would be a shame if I didn't learn something."

He shrugs slightly, despite being more or less reclined against the fluffy pillows.

"Would have been a waste of my precious time, really."

Cause, yanno, her social calender is totally booked solid otherwise.

She nods sagely, "And it's always important to learn new things, after all."

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