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wardenswateringhole · 8 months ago

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Reclamation - Chapter 1

-death mention

Cut for length. Enjoy.

Keys twirled around Emmet’s finger as he walked toward his home. His mind sorted through several different lists in his head. All the paper work done? Check. Trains checked and secured? Check. Depot Agents debriefed and schedules made? Check.

When one list finished another began. Was the new hire squared away? Did they receive their required employee materials? Was their uniform going to be available on their first day? Yes, yes and Yes.

Did he need to go shopping? Milk and eggs were stocked. Maybe he should pick up some soda? No. Not this time. Did he need more batteries for the joltiks? Battery supplies were holding for now. Could pick up extra treats tomorrow. The team were doing an extra good job on the battle line. They deserved it.

Next list was ready. Could they do better? What strategies felt fun and new? Were they getting stale? Maybe it was time for a change. Would that bring more challengers? More challengers would be nice. Challenger numbers felt too low…

When was that meeting again? It’s written down somewhere. What was it about? Challenger numbers being too low. Share holders had a problem with that? Not sure why. Things were just fine.

There was no need to worry. None at all.

Emmets mental rambling came to a halt as the key jingled and the door to his home opened. A white coat and hat were hung with care and shoes were slipped off and place by the door. The tune of an overly energetic children’s show could be heard playing on a television deeper into the abode. The smell of spices and warm food wafted through the air pairing logically with the sounds of sizzling and chopping coming from the kitchen. “I’m home!” Emmet voice rang out through it all. An instant response of happy giggling and the sound of small footsteps rushing toward his location could be heard. Two young boys came around the corner, their faces bright and excited to see him. He made to kneel in greeting them before he noticed one was traveling far faster than the other. Emmet tried to stop the inevitable. “Emery! Wait! Brake--!” Emery lost his footing almost as soon as the words left Emmet’s mouth. The other boy watched on as Emery barreled straight into Emmet’s crotch, causing the tall man to crumple like paper. Emmet’s form flopped to the floor, curled in the fetal position and desperately pulling air into his lungs as the pain blurred his vision. He only vaguely made out the two silver headed forms standing over him. A small voice reached his ears through the blood roaring in them. “Sorry, Dad…” A third taller figure soon appeared. They waved the children away and leaned down to Emmet. Soon Emmet was being led to a sofa in the living room by the dark-haired figure. They were much shorter than him but still managed to support his weight. The smell of food clung to them. As he stretched out on the sofa, the children reappear carrying an icepack. She gently chided the rambunctious boy. “Emery, what have we said about slowing down and watching our step?” “Speed, not haste, Momma.” “That’s right.” Emmet’s voice croaked out. “Please drive more safely in the future…”

The boy nodded sullenly. Even though it was obvious he was sorry, his mouth still remained stretched in a smile. He was very much an almost exact copy of his father. The everlasting grin remaining plastered on his face through everything. The other child looked on with bright eyes and a thumb tucked firm in his mouth. He also sported the same hair and face as his brother and father. Unlike them however, his mouth stayed bowed in a frown. It usually stayed hidden behind the fist attached to the thumb he currently coveted. The boy tugged at Emery’s arm and pointed to a pile of papers and crayons in front of the TV. Emery’s face lit of instantly. “Great idea, Iggy! Let’s show dad what we made!” They scampered over and grabbed a couple of sheets before returning and holding them up proudly for Emmet to see. They were both drawings of the boys with Pokémon of various kinds riding on trains of dubious design. The one Emery held had a train that looked to have flames coming out of the smokestack, while the other looked like it shot electricity out of its wheels. “We’re gonna have a battle train just like you when we grow up! This is totally what it’s gonna look like!” Emmet raised his head and looked over the drawings with as much interest as he could muster. His voice was a bit less strained as the pain in his groin began to subside. “That’s great, boys! Yep! But which train will you two take?” The children turned the papers back toward themselves and inspected their work closely. Emery frowned as best as his face could let him. “We don’t know… Iggy says mine is better, but I like his more. We can’t decide.” “Hmm…” Emmet stared at his sons thoughtfully. He was incredibly thankful they had inherited his interest in trains. He didn’t know how he would have felt had they gained an interest in, Dragons forbid, planes. They carried a healthy interest in Pokémon as well, despite not being ready for their first Pokémon yet.

Above it all, Emmet could not get over how much the pair looked exactly like him and Ingo when they were children. Many joked that it was Emmet that truly birthed them. His wife, Lela, would vehemently disagree. No one could deny the twenty-four hours of labor she endured to bring these children in the world only for them to look nothing like her. Emmet had remained by her side the entire time, save for the time he had fainted, and the doctors had to tend to him alongside her. A bump on the elbow and an IV needle seemed trivial compared to what she had gone through and the sheer amount of joy he had felt seeing his children’s faces for the first time. Tiny, pink, and covered in tiny translucent tufts that would eventually grow to the silver locks they now sported. It didn’t feel that long ago... “Why not try to combine your designs in some way?” Emmet felt he would have been blinded had he actually seen the light bulbs flare to life in their little heads. Their eyes went wide and bright as his words. “That’s a great idea, dad! C’mon Iggy!” The other child nodded enthusiastically before they both ran off to their room with drawings in hand. Emmet chuckled weakly as Lela came to sit on the floor next to where he lay on the sofa. “Dad imparting more great wisdom?” “Yep. You know it.” She rested her head on his shoulder and ran her fingers through his hair. He sighed as her nails grazed his scalp gently. “How are you holding up?”

Emmet’s smile flattened as his eyes drifted to a picture on the wall. It was of Ingo in his subway boss uniform, saluting the camera with his trademark frown. A black band was wrapped around the corners of the frame. Other photos sat around it in various candid moments that had been caught of the subway boss. One of him laughing at something with a cat like smile, another with cake smeared on his face most likely during a party. Another of him and Emmet in the middle of roughhousing and staring at the camera like they had been caught committing a crime. They were all cherished memories Emmet had chosen to display in tribute to his long lost brother.

“I’m holding…” He responded after a long silence. He nuzzled his face against Lela’s head. “You?”

“Same…”

Emmet sighed deeply. “Seven years today… I had actually forgotten until I saw the flowers…”

Lela looked at him in surprise. “They’re still leaving tributes to him?”

Emmet nodded. “Every year. I thought it would stop. But no. He’s still remembered.”

Emmet new full well it would continue long into the future. Every year, on this day and during their birthday, flowers and small offerings would appear around a plaque dedicated to Ingo’s memory and the tragedy that took him. It was always hard to see, a stark reminder of his other half being gone from this world. It was also comforting in a way. The world still remembered Ingo. Ingo did not leave the world without leaving his mark on it. People still celebrated the fact that he had existed in the first place. Emmet could only hope to be remembered as favorably as his brother was when his time came.

“It almost feels like Ingo is still alive…” Emmet mused. “Like he could walk through the door at any moment…”

Lela nodded. “We both loved him dearly…”

Emmet scoffed. “And that love brought us together…”

“Yeah…” Lela kissed Emmet’s forehead. He regarded her a moment. His eyes seemed to be searching for something in her face. To him, she looked as beautiful as the day he married her. Her dark hair and emerald eyes always struck him as enchanting. It bothered him slightly the boys didn’t get her eyes. Deep and lustrous. He could stare at them all day. If something didn’t seem to haunt him every time he stared into them too deeply. Though it was his own reflection, it always looked like Ingo was staring back at him.

“Is there something wrong?”

Emmet hesitated but the words fell from his mouth anyway. “Do you regret it?”

“What?”

Emmet’s eyes widened slightly realizing the thought had come out his mouth instead of staying in his head where Lela couldn’t see. “Marrying me…” Emmet trailed off. “I mean… You belonged to Ingo first…”

“Emmet. We’ve been over this…” Her arms wrapped awkwardly but affectionately around his head. “Do you honestly think that I would not have taken your proposal and had your children had I not loved you?”

“Hmm… No.” Emmet replied flatly snuggling into the embrace. “It’s just… I… don’t feel I deserve this… You, the boys, this home… It feels like Ingo was cheated out of this life…”

Memories of Ingo speaking of how he had dreamed of the idyllic domestic life rose in Emmet’s head. He had caught Ingo looking at rings on his phone at one time. It had made Emmet giddy when he first realized what Ingo was planning. Now the memory made him sick to his stomach.

“We live as happily as we can in his honor…” Lela replied, trying her best to calm Emmet’s worries. “You know Ingo would be beside himself with worry if he knew we were miserable without him.”

Emmet nodded. He could not deny that Ingo was selfless to a fault. He would bend over backwards to ensure his loved ones were well and taken care of. The same conversation would most likely happen if the roles had been reversed. But they weren’t. Emmet was alive.

Ingo was not.

“You are right.” Emmet pressed his face into Lela’s shoulder. She could hear him sniffing against the fabric of her shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“Are you cooking what I think you are cooking?” His voice was muffled from his face still buried against her clothing. She laughed and pushed away from Emmet.

“Maybe. You’re just going to have to wait and find out.” She stood and smoothed her apron before looking back down at her husband. His eyes were tired.

“Why not relax before dinner? You know the boys are going to want you to play with them after eating.”

Emmet nodded as a yawn crept up almost as if on cue. Lela laughed once more and smiled sweetly at him. “I love you, Emmet.”

“I love you too, Lela.”

Lela walked away to finished dinner. Emmet made himself comfortable. His eyes drifted back to the wall dedicated to Ingo. Fate had played a cruel trick in taking Ingo away. What would Ingo think, Emmet wondered.

What would he think of his brother leading the life that was obviously meant for him?

“I wish you were here, Ingo…” Emmet muttered, closing his eyes. “I truly do.”

#wardenwrites #Emmet #Subway boss emmet #Ingo #Subway boss ingo #Oc Lela #Oc Emery #Oc Ignius #Pokemon

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umberleedevoted · 1 year ago

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#17 Where

It had been about ten day since Lela was found on the beach; assumingly dead. Between the adequate care of young Stephane, cleaning and dressing her irritated sucker shaped wounds, and her daily prayers to Umberlee, Lela felt stiff and limping, but on the mend; able to walk the deck at least. She found herself anchored in a small port about 3 days outside of Havensport. They anchored a few hundred yards from shore, and the captain would row in to trade fish and gather resources. These frontier settlements were starting to pop up all along the coast. Lela stayed on the boat though, she was still in pain, and the last thing she wanted to do was raise any eyebrows.

“Quaint isn't it?”

Lela’s contemplation was broken by her young medic. In her deep thought, he had sidled up next to her and leaned over the rail in almost a mimicking fashion, looking towards the little fishing port.

“Hm?” she quizzed

“It’s quaint. Quiet. Charming. It’s just a nice little village”

Lela looked the young man up and down. He was young. He still blushed and averted his eyes if Lela disrobed to change the bandage. His frame was thin; his clothes tattered; but his eyes. He had a genuine kindness that Lela thought was so rare.

“I guess so…” she responded lightly. Understanding that the young man just wanted to break the silent tension.

“I make up stories sometimes... “ he didn't look at Lela, but she figured he was talking out loud just to kill the silence.

“I make up stories…”

“Dad will row into shore to stock and sell, and I’ll stay here. When I finish up chores I watch people, or even just the windows and lights if we’re too far out, and make up stories.

“Those ones are happy...”

“The baker loves the guard…”

“That kinda thing…”

“The guard?... Ooh risque”. Lela finally turned her head. And gave the young caretaker a brief and disarming smile. He blushed and looked back to the port.

Lela really was grateful. Between all the prayers and sleeping off her bought with the horror, she understood that this young, awkward boy, who is skilled enough to dress a wound, but not trusted to haul in a net by his father, saved her life.

“Make up a story about me,” She smiled as she prodded the young ward verbally. She leaned against the railing backwards, propping herself on her elbows.

“Wha-” he cocked his head like a gull

“Make up a story about me. I wont be mad, I’m curious. It’ll be fun!”

Lela turned her back on the shore and leaned against the railing.

“Well-uh. Dad says-”

She interrupted

“I don't care what fishing stories your da’ has. (slipping into a mocking country brogue) Look at me and tell me a’ story bout me’self!

“It's been almost a tenday. And you haven't told me how you got your wounds. But it was big. Too big. You're brave or stupid or somethin between em...”

She smiled and inclined her head at him to continue.

“You worship the sea, but you don't fear it...”

“What makes you say that?” she chuckled.

She worked hard to keep her smile disarming, the boy was opening up.

“I almost died...” she added.

Ive been changing your bandages for a tenday, and in all that time, you've only asked questions, mainly “When can I get in the water?”

When he spoke for her he mocked her higher disarming voice pretty well.

She raised an eyebrow in challenge and they both let out an honest chuckle.

There was a comfortable silence for a moment, and Lela crossed to a small locker by the rail to sit down.

“Keep going”

Stephane crossed to the small mast about 10 feet from Lela and sat against it on the deck.

“You are brave”

“You love the ocean”

“You know ships”

“Mhmmm…” she agreed

“You don't necessarily trust anyone but you’re good at faking it.”

There were several long beats of silence as Lela exhaled through her pursed lips.

“Hells kid,what makes you say that?”

“No insult intended Lee, just; I don’t know, I can see it. When someone talks you watch their eyes and hands… not their mouths... and when the oars fell over the other night you grabbed your boot knife like the city guard was coming to hang you.

“Hmpf” she sat motionless and looked at the deck

“Sorry... if that was mean…” he started, but she quickly interrupted

“No you’re spot on right kid. I mean… Damn.”

They sat like that for a moment, a long moment, until Lela needed to diffuse the young man’s skilled analysis.

“Hey Steph, I'll tell you about the time my old shipmate Sebastion mistook a pod of dolphins for a school a’ mermaid?”

The night faded into stories, like the lamplight of the distant town, the only sound to be heard was the listing of the ship.

#d&d #lela salt #dungeons and dragons #journal #journal 17 #oc #avalon #d&d character #water genasi

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