[tobias & avith & tristan]: your father is here to see you
Who: Tobias, Avith & Tristan
When: The day after this post
Where: The lobby?! of the Golden Hour
Ratings & Warnings: TEENAGERS.
The day was overcast and muggy. It made Tobias' injured hand sting and itch with the sweat the collected under the bandage, but he bore it without complaint. Slowly, it was healing. The Citadel was healing too, a lighter glow to its candles once Allen had been removed. He didn't quite know what the Occia meant by stating that putting him in an inn was her compromise - she was doing exactly as she was told. But that was the way with teenagers. It was best when they thought what they were doing was their own idea.
The Hour's guards eyed them with suspicion when they approached. His repaired Cancellarius' cloak lay heavy against his back, fastened with the pin of the Citadel. His waist was empty, however. He'd come unarmed, save for Avith. Should Silas Bergost make an appearance, he had his brother with him. There were other reasons he'd brought him, too. Once, Avith had asked him about his family and Tobias didn't know how to answer. Now he could show him. He owed him that much.
"Tell Tristan Wellington his father is here to see him, please," he muttered to a guard. Proceeding to the entrance hall, he felt a stab of jealousy and disgust all at once. So many wonders lay in this building, twisted by the greed and avarice of the Hour. The singing tree was one of them. Tobias could tell it was not how it was meant to be - some branches were bent strangely and missing metal leaves. He eyed it curiously from where they stood, but went no further. His head turned to look at his brother, one side of his mouth quirked up in a wry smile. "You were brave to come."
As ever, Avith seemed unaffected by the weather, looking as still and stern as ever, looking as out of place at the Hour as he did anywhere else. He was actually uncomfortable, a condition exacerbated by the heavy Cancellarius cloak he wore, and hated this type of weather more than any other, but to complain of such things seemed beyond him. Only a handful of people would know that his mood was actually better than it had been in past days, the whole matter concerning the Occia and her brother having gotten under his skin. She may only have been a teenager, but one to whom his life was dedicated. Her words held weight.
Admittedly he was surprised at Tobias' desire to go check up on his nephew, though he suspected there were multiple reasons for it. Coming to the Hour gave him a strange feeling which he recognized after a moment's confusion. It was like fatigue that just barely covered fear, a kind of exhausted mourning. Everything seemed too clean, as though people had been cleaning every nook and cranny. Even now, looking further down the hallways, he could see people scrubbing at the cogs that made up the wall adornments, pouring water on them to flush them of the soap used to clean them. He frowned briefly- what were those gashes in the wall? Were those claw marks?
Tobias' words brought his attention back to him. "How so?" he asked, looking to the metal tree again. Mechanical birds lovingly crafted from a variety of metals stood still, staring at nothing. He knew a little of pneumatics, an interest of his brother's back home, and with some tinkering could fix bits and pieces, but little more. He couldn't imagine giving his life to such things. Then, he supposed, people thought the same of them and the Occia.
A hand clapped the top of Avith's shoulder as he joined him in gazing upon the metal tree. Very interesting. He wondered if Tristan knew anything of it.
"My family has never been so easily--"
Tristan was excited!
It'd been nearly a month since he'd arrived, and thus, nearly a month since he'd seen any of his family; the sound of sandals slapping against stone was clearly audible as he practically burst into the entry hall, visibly excited. It didn't take long for Tristan to notice that the man standing before him wasn't his father, not in the slightest-- his face fell rather readily, settling into a sullen expression the likes of which only a teenager could twist their expressions into.
He spared a glance over at Avith before turning a vaguely angsty glare at Tobias. "Oh. It's you." You tricked me, were the words left unsaid. They hung thick and heavy in the air, a nice compliment to the haze left in the wake of a werewolf's rampage.
"--gotten along with," he finished quietly once Tristan had come to sulk. His eyebrows rose at the reaction. I may as well be, he thought, and let his hand drop from Avith's shoulder and motioned to him instead.
"Tristan, this is one of my brothers-in-arms, Cancellarius Avith Rempel." Would the boy prove himself petulant and shy away from Avith? If he were smaller, free of the storm of hormones and cockiness that plagued those his age, he could imagine him hiding behind his mother's leg at the sight of the man beside him. "Brother, my nephew Tristan."
Avith arched a brow at Tobias before he turned his head to see the young man come down the hallway. He did look remarkably like what he imagined a young Tobias to look like. Even the petulant expression looked similar.
He wasn't about to voice that to either of them, though.
"Rempel alone. Is fine. You are well?" he asked, hoping it didn't seem too much like a demand. He seemed to be unhurt, but there had been a person or two gone by with bandages.
His mouth settled into a thin line at the introduction, but-- Tristan attempted to force his expression into something a bit more personable. Why was Avith here, though? He hesitated, folding his arms around himself, feeling very put off. His uncle smugging around the Hour after a catastrophe he could probably handle, but also bringing a friend along? The most intimidating one too, probably. Of course they'd be great friends, wouldn't they?
Aghhh. "A pleasure to meet you and yeah, I'm fine, I didn't get hurt." Another brief moment of hesitation, and Tristan scratched at the back of his head. "I spent most of the night on the roof, where they couldn't reach us. And I got there early, so they never had a chance to attack me." How would Tobias react, if Tristan had ended up a werewolf last night? -- He'd probably kill me, and he couldn't help but feel a little dejected at that realization.
"A blessing that you weren't hurt," Tobias rumbled, eyes trailing over all of Tristan that he could see for bumps and cuts. If his nephew had been attacked, he'd have been dead. There was no accounting for the boy's own clumsiness, though. "I can't imagine others were so lucky, however."
The roof? Avith glanced upwards with a frown. The expression did not make him look any friendlier, but at least it was not directed to the young Wellington. He nodded. "I'm... glad to hear it." A group of neophytes walked past, looking at the two of them strangely, but quickly away when Avith met their eyes. He frowned again slightly.
"How do things fare?" he asked Tristan. The idea of standing there if there was something that could be done made him uncomfortable.
A blessing. Why did it sound so insincere? Maybe, he was just over thinking it. "A blessing," he echoed dully, crossing his arms once more. He was torn between being defiant and being grateful; after all, for all the family he had, Tobias was the first-- and so far, the only-- person to ask after his well-being. It'd only been a day, sure, and maybe not everyone knew?
But still, well, it was an odd feeling. "They're uh. Okay. Everyone's just kind of picking up the pieces." Talking to such a quiet man was starting to affect his speech, a little. Blathering on in endless sentences just seemed rude in comparison to Avith's small, deliberate pauses.
Tobias crossed his arms as well, the action unconscious. "Your Magus knows should he need aid, all he needs to do is ask." His tone indicated that icicles would form from the hellhound's mouth before that would happen. Godric would never bend a knee to the Citadel, even if all of his people were dying in spades.
"Have you spoken to your mother?" 'You ought to' went unsaid.
Avith watched the two of them as they crossed their arms, and had to stifle the urge to do likewise. He was curious as to what had happened, but it seemed it would be out of place if he were to ask. Everyone that passed by looked either suspicious or tired. Strange to think of- he'd only been outside the gates perhaps a week or two ago, and it had felt nothing like this. It was a full moon thing, wasn't it? "I can fix... simple things. If there is need for that," he interjected, almost absently, his attention divided.
"Not yet." Some of us are busy. There was the briefest moment of guiltydog there, but-- man, who was Tobias to tell him what to do? Just his jerkface uncle, that's who.
Ah, wait, didn't that mean he did have the authority to say things like that? "I think that most of the things that need to be fixed are people. But thank you for offering to help without waiting for someone to swallow their pride, instead," TOBIAS.
He could not throttle his nephew in public. He could not throttle his nephew in public. He could not throttle his nephew--
Tobias let out a loud sigh and scratched a set of gloved fingers over his cheek. It was the best he could do. His eyes slid to Avith momentarily, then back to his nephew. "But you are as yet unharmed," he said, eyebrows lifting at the yet. "Find your mother. She overworries."
It was a little sad, in a way. Something horrific had happened, and the only person to come check up on him was, of all people, Tobias, who'd had no troubles showing his disdain for his nephew's life choices. Of course, getting into the fray would hardly help matters. If anyone was acting in an insufferable manner, it was Tobias... but that was something he could bring up later, perhaps.
"Unfortunately," he said, "the extent... of help. I could offer. Is already past. We come too late." He looked over to Tobias. "...I only hope. Such a thing. Does not occur a second time." Here or the Citadel.
(Was that a threat?) "I'll write her. She'll be fine." Who was Tobias, to tell him of his mother? All he had was his faith in Cita. He didn't trouble himself with his family, so why now?
Ah, right, to rub everything in Tristan's face. Obviously. "It shouldn't-- I don't know. The Adepts are saying it won't happen again, and I can't really do anything but trust their word." He shrugged slightly, unsure. "Everything's okay at the Citadel though, right?" He wanted to joke about, maybe, he made the wrong choice, but-- maybe if it were only Avith. But then, would they even be speaking? Either way, it wasn't a sentence he wanted to say in front of his uncle, even if it was in jest.
His face tilted away from Avith as if the other man's gaze carried force. It usually did, when Avith deemed him insufferable. Little elbows to his ribs or squeezes to the inside of his shoulder that were both brotherly and warning all the same. "Yes," he said gruffly, in answer to both of them.
If Avith got too annoyed with him he wouldn't take him to see the puppies. His eyes roamed Tristan's face, brow knitting at the residual tug of concern he felt for his nephew. He huffed and looked away again. "What were you doing, then," he started, and waved a hand. "Before the attacks?"
Avith continued to look to Tobias, his expression seemingly unchanged, though the look away meant Tobias had read him clearly. That was right. Puppies.
He looked back to Tristan, not wholly comforted by those words, but it was as he said- he would simply have to put his trust into the adepts. They'd done well so far- this was the only thing of such a scale to happen in recent memory, as far as he knew, at least.
Well, that was a good question. He wouldn't be in Tyrol at all if not for the Citadel, so what was possible within the Hour was something of a mystery to him.
"Studying, of course." Tristan found himself growing crosser and crosser with his uncle as each second ticked by. His gloating presence was nothing new, but everything about this visit-- the timing, the announcement, the trickery-- it was just tacky, tasteless, even for Tobias.
If only Avith were a better influence on him. "Do you even care if its anything besides the Epistles?"
"I do," he ground out and shifted uneasily on the spot. Avith had to be hearing he same conversation. Had his warning made sense now? Irritation made his jaw tense tighter as he spared a glance to the other Cancellarius.
"I am here now." 'When others are not' went swallowed instead of said. "If you would like us to leave, only say so."
Am I my brother's keeper? Avith thought to himself, and stifling a sigh knew already the answer. "Forgive us," he said to Tristan, returning the look to Tobias before back to him. "We have also... been facing difficulties. Though nothing... quite like this," he said, not wishing to downplay what had happened at the Hour. "Our own behaviour ... could be better. Have your studies... been halted. Because of this?"
"Would you even leave if I asked?" He highly doubted his uncle respected his wishes that much. He'd still shown up to the Hour, after all.
Tristan turned his whole! body then, facing Avith entirely. He would be the better man here and just ignore Tobias' constant needling, and not bring himself down to his relative's level. "They have. Everyone's too busy caring for the injured," a side-glance at Tobias couldn't hurt his superior position, "but I think we'll be alright by next week." Truthfully, he had no idea. That was just sixteen year old optimism talking for him. "You're not running into anything that bad at the Citadel though, right?"
Tobias watched his nephew's display with a bland look, though his lip curled once Tristan's attentions were away from him. The boy was nothing like Tobias' brother. Why couldn't he be more like his father?
It served Avith right that he should be so fussy about how Tobias talked to his own nephew that now he had to deal with him. Relieved from blood duty and leash, he took it upon himself to wander past the new fast friends towards the metal tree. He cupped an elbow and dropped his face in his hand as he examined it, leaning in curiously. What was the point of all this?
Avith looked after Tobias, and gave an apologetic look to Tristan, which may or may not have been obvious. He did not express himself as well as he'd like, but did not focus on the matter. Tobias would be Tobias. But he would have to apologize to Tobias as well and balance it somehow. Tobias had been... more forward as of late, since the curse had fallen.
"It is not... of great importance. To those outside it." That much was true. He had no wish to speak of it with anyone inside the Citadel, much less outside of it. "As do you. So we trust. It will be sorted soon."
He kept an eye on Tobias regardless. The tree was an oddity, sure enough, and like to catch the other man's attention.
"No one else has come?" he asked Tristan, frowning slightly.
"... No, no one else has. Yet." Tristan was quiet a long time, the room silent except for the grinding of teeth and the whistling of birds.
He looked at Tobias.
He looked at Avith.
The long-suffering sigh of a teenager escaped his lips. "Thank you for coming to see me, uncle," he ground out between tightly clenched teeth, staring resolutely at the wall. Did his family really care so little for him? Agh. Hopefully Tobias wouldn't rub his nose in it like an errant puppy, or something.
"Mm?" He'd been too absorbed in looking at tree to notice his newphew was on speaking terms with him again. His head jerked up, puzzled, until he replayed what had been said in his mind. His mouth pulled to the side, hesitant. He was reluctant to make excuses for the woman who left him and the brother who took her in, or any of the rest of his family, really. "I'm glad you're well," was all he could manage awkwardly, then returned to look at the tree with such intensity it was as if he intended to bore through it with his eyes.
"Do you know anything about this?"
Avith folded his arms in the midst of the silence, looking at once more natural and more imposing as he did so. He looked from Tristan to Tobias, lips twitching at the sound that escaped from the young man before his words, wondering how Tobias would respond to it.
He was then surprised to hear Tobias accepting the statement, though he was careful to keep that from showing. He knew Tobias did not get on well with his family, to what extent he'd never been sure. If he could at least, if grudgingly, get on with Tristan, perhaps it would do him some good.
He gave Tristan a brief nod, encouraging him to answer what he could of his uncle's question, and lingered behind the two of them. Perhaps, if it was a girl, he could call the dog Bashirah...
Tristan's mouth twitched a bit. "Not really. I think my friend Amelia tried to explain it to me, once," but she was pretty and that was distracting, "because she works with a lot of mechanical things, but honestly I haven't spent enough time with them to really have the head for it," so if you want one for the Citadel you're out of luck, uncle.
"It's nice though. It gives," simple-minded "visitors something to look at," when they're done being rude to their family, "and there isn't a lot else here that rivals it, I think."
"I doubt it as well." It was charming and puzzling to look at all at once, he decided, instead of a mockery of Cita's beauty. It was only because he was sure Godric had nothing to do with it. If the Magus did, it would have more ruffles. Something equally pretentious around it.
Tobias gave the tree one last look at the tree and straightened. Avith was brooding and his nephew was still.. his nephew. He cleared his throat. "Avith and I have another appointment.."
"Well, I wouldn't want to keep you or anything," and inwardly, Tristan was relieved this awkward reunion wouldn't continue to drag on any further. He shuffled a bit, unsure exactly how one sent one's uncle and coworker off after they visited you at your place of study? Work? Living? All three, really.
Well, "thanks again," edged out reluctantly and not without a touch of bitterness. "And good luck with your, uh, appointment." So leave for it already, okay?
"We're going to see a woman about puppies," he said cheerfully, and brought a heavy hand down to ruffle Tristan's hair as he passed him on his way out.
Puppies!!!!1!
When: The day after this post
Where: The lobby?! of the Golden Hour
Ratings & Warnings: TEENAGERS.
The day was overcast and muggy. It made Tobias' injured hand sting and itch with the sweat the collected under the bandage, but he bore it without complaint. Slowly, it was healing. The Citadel was healing too, a lighter glow to its candles once Allen had been removed. He didn't quite know what the Occia meant by stating that putting him in an inn was her compromise - she was doing exactly as she was told. But that was the way with teenagers. It was best when they thought what they were doing was their own idea.
The Hour's guards eyed them with suspicion when they approached. His repaired Cancellarius' cloak lay heavy against his back, fastened with the pin of the Citadel. His waist was empty, however. He'd come unarmed, save for Avith. Should Silas Bergost make an appearance, he had his brother with him. There were other reasons he'd brought him, too. Once, Avith had asked him about his family and Tobias didn't know how to answer. Now he could show him. He owed him that much.
"Tell Tristan Wellington his father is here to see him, please," he muttered to a guard. Proceeding to the entrance hall, he felt a stab of jealousy and disgust all at once. So many wonders lay in this building, twisted by the greed and avarice of the Hour. The singing tree was one of them. Tobias could tell it was not how it was meant to be - some branches were bent strangely and missing metal leaves. He eyed it curiously from where they stood, but went no further. His head turned to look at his brother, one side of his mouth quirked up in a wry smile. "You were brave to come."
As ever, Avith seemed unaffected by the weather, looking as still and stern as ever, looking as out of place at the Hour as he did anywhere else. He was actually uncomfortable, a condition exacerbated by the heavy Cancellarius cloak he wore, and hated this type of weather more than any other, but to complain of such things seemed beyond him. Only a handful of people would know that his mood was actually better than it had been in past days, the whole matter concerning the Occia and her brother having gotten under his skin. She may only have been a teenager, but one to whom his life was dedicated. Her words held weight.
Admittedly he was surprised at Tobias' desire to go check up on his nephew, though he suspected there were multiple reasons for it. Coming to the Hour gave him a strange feeling which he recognized after a moment's confusion. It was like fatigue that just barely covered fear, a kind of exhausted mourning. Everything seemed too clean, as though people had been cleaning every nook and cranny. Even now, looking further down the hallways, he could see people scrubbing at the cogs that made up the wall adornments, pouring water on them to flush them of the soap used to clean them. He frowned briefly- what were those gashes in the wall? Were those claw marks?
Tobias' words brought his attention back to him. "How so?" he asked, looking to the metal tree again. Mechanical birds lovingly crafted from a variety of metals stood still, staring at nothing. He knew a little of pneumatics, an interest of his brother's back home, and with some tinkering could fix bits and pieces, but little more. He couldn't imagine giving his life to such things. Then, he supposed, people thought the same of them and the Occia.
A hand clapped the top of Avith's shoulder as he joined him in gazing upon the metal tree. Very interesting. He wondered if Tristan knew anything of it.
"My family has never been so easily--"
Tristan was excited!
It'd been nearly a month since he'd arrived, and thus, nearly a month since he'd seen any of his family; the sound of sandals slapping against stone was clearly audible as he practically burst into the entry hall, visibly excited. It didn't take long for Tristan to notice that the man standing before him wasn't his father, not in the slightest-- his face fell rather readily, settling into a sullen expression the likes of which only a teenager could twist their expressions into.
He spared a glance over at Avith before turning a vaguely angsty glare at Tobias. "Oh. It's you." You tricked me, were the words left unsaid. They hung thick and heavy in the air, a nice compliment to the haze left in the wake of a werewolf's rampage.
"--gotten along with," he finished quietly once Tristan had come to sulk. His eyebrows rose at the reaction. I may as well be, he thought, and let his hand drop from Avith's shoulder and motioned to him instead.
"Tristan, this is one of my brothers-in-arms, Cancellarius Avith Rempel." Would the boy prove himself petulant and shy away from Avith? If he were smaller, free of the storm of hormones and cockiness that plagued those his age, he could imagine him hiding behind his mother's leg at the sight of the man beside him. "Brother, my nephew Tristan."
Avith arched a brow at Tobias before he turned his head to see the young man come down the hallway. He did look remarkably like what he imagined a young Tobias to look like. Even the petulant expression looked similar.
He wasn't about to voice that to either of them, though.
"Rempel alone. Is fine. You are well?" he asked, hoping it didn't seem too much like a demand. He seemed to be unhurt, but there had been a person or two gone by with bandages.
His mouth settled into a thin line at the introduction, but-- Tristan attempted to force his expression into something a bit more personable. Why was Avith here, though? He hesitated, folding his arms around himself, feeling very put off. His uncle smugging around the Hour after a catastrophe he could probably handle, but also bringing a friend along? The most intimidating one too, probably. Of course they'd be great friends, wouldn't they?
Aghhh. "A pleasure to meet you and yeah, I'm fine, I didn't get hurt." Another brief moment of hesitation, and Tristan scratched at the back of his head. "I spent most of the night on the roof, where they couldn't reach us. And I got there early, so they never had a chance to attack me." How would Tobias react, if Tristan had ended up a werewolf last night? -- He'd probably kill me, and he couldn't help but feel a little dejected at that realization.
"A blessing that you weren't hurt," Tobias rumbled, eyes trailing over all of Tristan that he could see for bumps and cuts. If his nephew had been attacked, he'd have been dead. There was no accounting for the boy's own clumsiness, though. "I can't imagine others were so lucky, however."
The roof? Avith glanced upwards with a frown. The expression did not make him look any friendlier, but at least it was not directed to the young Wellington. He nodded. "I'm... glad to hear it." A group of neophytes walked past, looking at the two of them strangely, but quickly away when Avith met their eyes. He frowned again slightly.
"How do things fare?" he asked Tristan. The idea of standing there if there was something that could be done made him uncomfortable.
A blessing. Why did it sound so insincere? Maybe, he was just over thinking it. "A blessing," he echoed dully, crossing his arms once more. He was torn between being defiant and being grateful; after all, for all the family he had, Tobias was the first-- and so far, the only-- person to ask after his well-being. It'd only been a day, sure, and maybe not everyone knew?
But still, well, it was an odd feeling. "They're uh. Okay. Everyone's just kind of picking up the pieces." Talking to such a quiet man was starting to affect his speech, a little. Blathering on in endless sentences just seemed rude in comparison to Avith's small, deliberate pauses.
Tobias crossed his arms as well, the action unconscious. "Your Magus knows should he need aid, all he needs to do is ask." His tone indicated that icicles would form from the hellhound's mouth before that would happen. Godric would never bend a knee to the Citadel, even if all of his people were dying in spades.
"Have you spoken to your mother?" 'You ought to' went unsaid.
Avith watched the two of them as they crossed their arms, and had to stifle the urge to do likewise. He was curious as to what had happened, but it seemed it would be out of place if he were to ask. Everyone that passed by looked either suspicious or tired. Strange to think of- he'd only been outside the gates perhaps a week or two ago, and it had felt nothing like this. It was a full moon thing, wasn't it? "I can fix... simple things. If there is need for that," he interjected, almost absently, his attention divided.
"Not yet." Some of us are busy. There was the briefest moment of guiltydog there, but-- man, who was Tobias to tell him what to do? Just his jerkface uncle, that's who.
Ah, wait, didn't that mean he did have the authority to say things like that? "I think that most of the things that need to be fixed are people. But thank you for offering to help without waiting for someone to swallow their pride, instead," TOBIAS.
He could not throttle his nephew in public. He could not throttle his nephew in public. He could not throttle his nephew--
Tobias let out a loud sigh and scratched a set of gloved fingers over his cheek. It was the best he could do. His eyes slid to Avith momentarily, then back to his nephew. "But you are as yet unharmed," he said, eyebrows lifting at the yet. "Find your mother. She overworries."
It was a little sad, in a way. Something horrific had happened, and the only person to come check up on him was, of all people, Tobias, who'd had no troubles showing his disdain for his nephew's life choices. Of course, getting into the fray would hardly help matters. If anyone was acting in an insufferable manner, it was Tobias... but that was something he could bring up later, perhaps.
"Unfortunately," he said, "the extent... of help. I could offer. Is already past. We come too late." He looked over to Tobias. "...I only hope. Such a thing. Does not occur a second time." Here or the Citadel.
(Was that a threat?) "I'll write her. She'll be fine." Who was Tobias, to tell him of his mother? All he had was his faith in Cita. He didn't trouble himself with his family, so why now?
Ah, right, to rub everything in Tristan's face. Obviously. "It shouldn't-- I don't know. The Adepts are saying it won't happen again, and I can't really do anything but trust their word." He shrugged slightly, unsure. "Everything's okay at the Citadel though, right?" He wanted to joke about, maybe, he made the wrong choice, but-- maybe if it were only Avith. But then, would they even be speaking? Either way, it wasn't a sentence he wanted to say in front of his uncle, even if it was in jest.
His face tilted away from Avith as if the other man's gaze carried force. It usually did, when Avith deemed him insufferable. Little elbows to his ribs or squeezes to the inside of his shoulder that were both brotherly and warning all the same. "Yes," he said gruffly, in answer to both of them.
If Avith got too annoyed with him he wouldn't take him to see the puppies. His eyes roamed Tristan's face, brow knitting at the residual tug of concern he felt for his nephew. He huffed and looked away again. "What were you doing, then," he started, and waved a hand. "Before the attacks?"
Avith continued to look to Tobias, his expression seemingly unchanged, though the look away meant Tobias had read him clearly. That was right. Puppies.
He looked back to Tristan, not wholly comforted by those words, but it was as he said- he would simply have to put his trust into the adepts. They'd done well so far- this was the only thing of such a scale to happen in recent memory, as far as he knew, at least.
Well, that was a good question. He wouldn't be in Tyrol at all if not for the Citadel, so what was possible within the Hour was something of a mystery to him.
"Studying, of course." Tristan found himself growing crosser and crosser with his uncle as each second ticked by. His gloating presence was nothing new, but everything about this visit-- the timing, the announcement, the trickery-- it was just tacky, tasteless, even for Tobias.
If only Avith were a better influence on him. "Do you even care if its anything besides the Epistles?"
"I do," he ground out and shifted uneasily on the spot. Avith had to be hearing he same conversation. Had his warning made sense now? Irritation made his jaw tense tighter as he spared a glance to the other Cancellarius.
"I am here now." 'When others are not' went swallowed instead of said. "If you would like us to leave, only say so."
Am I my brother's keeper? Avith thought to himself, and stifling a sigh knew already the answer. "Forgive us," he said to Tristan, returning the look to Tobias before back to him. "We have also... been facing difficulties. Though nothing... quite like this," he said, not wishing to downplay what had happened at the Hour. "Our own behaviour ... could be better. Have your studies... been halted. Because of this?"
"Would you even leave if I asked?" He highly doubted his uncle respected his wishes that much. He'd still shown up to the Hour, after all.
Tristan turned his whole! body then, facing Avith entirely. He would be the better man here and just ignore Tobias' constant needling, and not bring himself down to his relative's level. "They have. Everyone's too busy caring for the injured," a side-glance at Tobias couldn't hurt his superior position, "but I think we'll be alright by next week." Truthfully, he had no idea. That was just sixteen year old optimism talking for him. "You're not running into anything that bad at the Citadel though, right?"
Tobias watched his nephew's display with a bland look, though his lip curled once Tristan's attentions were away from him. The boy was nothing like Tobias' brother. Why couldn't he be more like his father?
It served Avith right that he should be so fussy about how Tobias talked to his own nephew that now he had to deal with him. Relieved from blood duty and leash, he took it upon himself to wander past the new fast friends towards the metal tree. He cupped an elbow and dropped his face in his hand as he examined it, leaning in curiously. What was the point of all this?
Avith looked after Tobias, and gave an apologetic look to Tristan, which may or may not have been obvious. He did not express himself as well as he'd like, but did not focus on the matter. Tobias would be Tobias. But he would have to apologize to Tobias as well and balance it somehow. Tobias had been... more forward as of late, since the curse had fallen.
"It is not... of great importance. To those outside it." That much was true. He had no wish to speak of it with anyone inside the Citadel, much less outside of it. "As do you. So we trust. It will be sorted soon."
He kept an eye on Tobias regardless. The tree was an oddity, sure enough, and like to catch the other man's attention.
"No one else has come?" he asked Tristan, frowning slightly.
"... No, no one else has. Yet." Tristan was quiet a long time, the room silent except for the grinding of teeth and the whistling of birds.
He looked at Tobias.
He looked at Avith.
The long-suffering sigh of a teenager escaped his lips. "Thank you for coming to see me, uncle," he ground out between tightly clenched teeth, staring resolutely at the wall. Did his family really care so little for him? Agh. Hopefully Tobias wouldn't rub his nose in it like an errant puppy, or something.
"Mm?" He'd been too absorbed in looking at tree to notice his newphew was on speaking terms with him again. His head jerked up, puzzled, until he replayed what had been said in his mind. His mouth pulled to the side, hesitant. He was reluctant to make excuses for the woman who left him and the brother who took her in, or any of the rest of his family, really. "I'm glad you're well," was all he could manage awkwardly, then returned to look at the tree with such intensity it was as if he intended to bore through it with his eyes.
"Do you know anything about this?"
Avith folded his arms in the midst of the silence, looking at once more natural and more imposing as he did so. He looked from Tristan to Tobias, lips twitching at the sound that escaped from the young man before his words, wondering how Tobias would respond to it.
He was then surprised to hear Tobias accepting the statement, though he was careful to keep that from showing. He knew Tobias did not get on well with his family, to what extent he'd never been sure. If he could at least, if grudgingly, get on with Tristan, perhaps it would do him some good.
He gave Tristan a brief nod, encouraging him to answer what he could of his uncle's question, and lingered behind the two of them. Perhaps, if it was a girl, he could call the dog Bashirah...
Tristan's mouth twitched a bit. "Not really. I think my friend Amelia tried to explain it to me, once," but she was pretty and that was distracting, "because she works with a lot of mechanical things, but honestly I haven't spent enough time with them to really have the head for it," so if you want one for the Citadel you're out of luck, uncle.
"It's nice though. It gives," simple-minded "visitors something to look at," when they're done being rude to their family, "and there isn't a lot else here that rivals it, I think."
"I doubt it as well." It was charming and puzzling to look at all at once, he decided, instead of a mockery of Cita's beauty. It was only because he was sure Godric had nothing to do with it. If the Magus did, it would have more ruffles. Something equally pretentious around it.
Tobias gave the tree one last look at the tree and straightened. Avith was brooding and his nephew was still.. his nephew. He cleared his throat. "Avith and I have another appointment.."
"Well, I wouldn't want to keep you or anything," and inwardly, Tristan was relieved this awkward reunion wouldn't continue to drag on any further. He shuffled a bit, unsure exactly how one sent one's uncle and coworker off after they visited you at your place of study? Work? Living? All three, really.
Well, "thanks again," edged out reluctantly and not without a touch of bitterness. "And good luck with your, uh, appointment." So leave for it already, okay?
"We're going to see a woman about puppies," he said cheerfully, and brought a heavy hand down to ruffle Tristan's hair as he passed him on his way out.
Puppies!!!!1!