#ziel real name is malthus but his father calls him malty bcuz it's cute <3

[jean-dieu]

A Father's Love

"Malty?"

No answer whatsoever. The man narrows his eyes for he knows Malthus is near. If the kid doesn't answer to his name, it's always because he's hiding somewhere. That is something he's certain of, but where did the little tiefling manage to camouflage this time is a whole other question. The boy was good at being sneaky, for the best and for the worst. Keeping track of his son's hiding spots has been proven useless as he somehow always manages to find a new, better location.

"For Abadar's sake Malty, we're going to be late for today's service and I'm not going without you once again." He says in a stern, loud voice, hoping his natural authority would be enough to scare the child out of his secret little hideout. But the cleric's warning is only met by silence once again. Hopeless, he turns around, scrutinizing every cupboards, tables, chairs, curtains where the spade of a scaly tail or the point of small horns could maybe be spotted, but nothing.

He sighs. He knows they are getting late, and his position in the Church of Abadar can't allow him such leniency in his schedule. An idea crosses his mind, but bribing his own child, really? Is this his idea of education? He glances at the clock, and clenches his jaw. Time really isn't in his favour, and he needs to leave now.

"… Oh well. I suppose I'll leave without you. Too bad, I was planning to get a few cherry tarts after the service, but-"

He can't even finish his sentence that he feels something grabing his shoulders from above. It's enough to send shivers down his spine, and he swiftly raises his head, his eyes meeting with the little tiefling's one. And there he is, he mutters internally. Nimbly hiding between the wooden beams of the ceiling, securing himself with his tail, the soft glow of his yellow eyes betraying his position if only he had thought of looking up!

"Cherry tarts?" Malthus echoes enthusiastically, crawling back in his father's arms like a snake as the man reaches for him. "How did you even manage to get there…" He mutters for himself, both scared for his son's safety and impressed by his abilities. The cleric looks at him for a moment in silence, trying to keep a stern and angry face for the sake of it, before dropping the act. The little tiefling, on the other hand, looks half sorry, half very proud of himself. A small apologetic smile creeps on his face, flashing his sharp crooked teeth as he seems to await whatever punishment his father will deem fit for his unruly behaviour.

Silence again, then a sigh.

"Well, aren't you a mischievous little thing…" His father says in a defeated voice as he helps his son climbing on his shoulders as they both leaves for their usual church. "Come on. You delayed us more than enough, no need to waste more time."

"So, no cherry tarts I guess?" "Oh, you really don't deserve them, little rascal" His father frowns, before half-smiling "But I can't let my own son go hugry, can I?"