Suikoden: Apprehension
Title: Apprehension
Fandom: Suikoden series
Characters: Primarily Flik
Word Count: 780
Rating/Warnings: No restrictions or warnings
Author's Notes: Alternate universe. I should assign all these eventual AUs numbers.
Started: November 1, 2010 (12:04 a.m.) | Finished: November 1, 2010 (2:34 a.m.)
Riou had given him a confused look when he had mentioned having something “personal” he needed to check on, but did nothing to stop him. It wasn’t surprising; the journey from the Toran border to the capital had been a long one, and they would be spending nearly a week in the city while Riou spoke with President Lepant and did some of his own exploring. The young army leader probably just thought he had other places he wanted to explore on his own.
Well, “on his own” meaning himself and Viktor. Viktor liked to invite himself along.
Varkas still remembered them from their shared past, still remembered how involved they had been at each turn of the Gate Rune Wars. Could he look the other way while they headed out of the main city for a short while? They would be back before nightfall, without a doubt.
And so they slipped out of Gregminster, heading northwest to the estate nestled in the forests closer to the river. It was a much shorter journey than heading to Lenankamp-Viktor had originally thought that was their destination, but quickly caught on as they headed west instead of south. He asked if he was nervous at all, knowing he wouldn’t get a truthful answer in return; there was a certain apprehension the entire way there, and it bled into their quick battles with the local blade bunnies and other creatures.
Flik was distracted with questions. What would he say? What could he say? He wasn’t acquainted with Odessa’s cousin-would he turn them away? He tried to prepare himself for the possibility; all he was riding on was a faint hope at the moment.
Viktor whistled as they approached their destination, clearly impressed. The Silverberg manor was large, with well-tended gardens and a manor house that showed its age in the form of ivy that crawled across the stone walls like green veins. A gardener watched them warily as they headed for the front doors, unsure what to do with the two men who had clearly not been invited onto the property. Another servant answered the door before Flik could knock, lifting at least one point of apprehension that had been nagging at him. He requested to speak with the head of the household, stating both of their names and explaining that yes, they were in fact acquainted with the family.
Even though their names brought about a flicker of recognition in the servant’s eyes, she resolutely told them to remain in the foyer while she fetched the master. Viktor perused the poetry on a painting hanging nearby, ignoring a sarcastic remark from the sword strapped to his back. Flik rolled his eyes, staring up the grand staircase to the upper floors of the house. At some point in her life, Odessa had wandered these halls, walked down these stairs…
George greeted them with a gruffness that reminded him of Leon, but he spoke more than Odessa and Mathiu’s isolated uncle. The visit was somewhat unexpected, but at the same time not-there had been rumors of the Liberation Army leader having another beau after Achilles, and he had kept that in mind over the years. Honestly, he had expected an appearance sooner, with the war three years gone. Flik fought the urge to apologize, knowing that they had left many with questions after the invasion of the imperial palace. But his apprehension was quickly ebbing away with each word George spoke. He knew why they were there, and he was not adverse to the idea that lingered in Flik’s mind. They could go out to the back, where his wife was with the children.
Children? Apparently the family had welcomed a son into the world just last year, which led to George warning them to be quiet as they passed through the house to enter the backyard gardens. A lovely young woman sat in a patio chair under the sunlight, holding a baby swathed in cloth. Across from her sat a little boy, his head buried in a book. When George called out, it was the boy who looked up and climbed out of his chair to meet them. Again, Flik found his mind racing as he beheld the boy-a stranger with hair darker than either George or his wife, with curious eyes that shone a familiar color: the same captivating blue that followed him into his dreams even now.
Not waiting for fanfare from George, he knelt to be at eye level with the boy. Somehow looking at those eyes brought his mind into focus again.
“It’s nice to meet you, Albert. I’m Flik. I’m a friend of your mother.”
Fandom: Suikoden series
Characters: Primarily Flik
Word Count: 780
Rating/Warnings: No restrictions or warnings
Author's Notes: Alternate universe. I should assign all these eventual AUs numbers.
Started: November 1, 2010 (12:04 a.m.) | Finished: November 1, 2010 (2:34 a.m.)
Riou had given him a confused look when he had mentioned having something “personal” he needed to check on, but did nothing to stop him. It wasn’t surprising; the journey from the Toran border to the capital had been a long one, and they would be spending nearly a week in the city while Riou spoke with President Lepant and did some of his own exploring. The young army leader probably just thought he had other places he wanted to explore on his own.
Well, “on his own” meaning himself and Viktor. Viktor liked to invite himself along.
Varkas still remembered them from their shared past, still remembered how involved they had been at each turn of the Gate Rune Wars. Could he look the other way while they headed out of the main city for a short while? They would be back before nightfall, without a doubt.
And so they slipped out of Gregminster, heading northwest to the estate nestled in the forests closer to the river. It was a much shorter journey than heading to Lenankamp-Viktor had originally thought that was their destination, but quickly caught on as they headed west instead of south. He asked if he was nervous at all, knowing he wouldn’t get a truthful answer in return; there was a certain apprehension the entire way there, and it bled into their quick battles with the local blade bunnies and other creatures.
Flik was distracted with questions. What would he say? What could he say? He wasn’t acquainted with Odessa’s cousin-would he turn them away? He tried to prepare himself for the possibility; all he was riding on was a faint hope at the moment.
Viktor whistled as they approached their destination, clearly impressed. The Silverberg manor was large, with well-tended gardens and a manor house that showed its age in the form of ivy that crawled across the stone walls like green veins. A gardener watched them warily as they headed for the front doors, unsure what to do with the two men who had clearly not been invited onto the property. Another servant answered the door before Flik could knock, lifting at least one point of apprehension that had been nagging at him. He requested to speak with the head of the household, stating both of their names and explaining that yes, they were in fact acquainted with the family.
Even though their names brought about a flicker of recognition in the servant’s eyes, she resolutely told them to remain in the foyer while she fetched the master. Viktor perused the poetry on a painting hanging nearby, ignoring a sarcastic remark from the sword strapped to his back. Flik rolled his eyes, staring up the grand staircase to the upper floors of the house. At some point in her life, Odessa had wandered these halls, walked down these stairs…
George greeted them with a gruffness that reminded him of Leon, but he spoke more than Odessa and Mathiu’s isolated uncle. The visit was somewhat unexpected, but at the same time not-there had been rumors of the Liberation Army leader having another beau after Achilles, and he had kept that in mind over the years. Honestly, he had expected an appearance sooner, with the war three years gone. Flik fought the urge to apologize, knowing that they had left many with questions after the invasion of the imperial palace. But his apprehension was quickly ebbing away with each word George spoke. He knew why they were there, and he was not adverse to the idea that lingered in Flik’s mind. They could go out to the back, where his wife was with the children.
Children? Apparently the family had welcomed a son into the world just last year, which led to George warning them to be quiet as they passed through the house to enter the backyard gardens. A lovely young woman sat in a patio chair under the sunlight, holding a baby swathed in cloth. Across from her sat a little boy, his head buried in a book. When George called out, it was the boy who looked up and climbed out of his chair to meet them. Again, Flik found his mind racing as he beheld the boy-a stranger with hair darker than either George or his wife, with curious eyes that shone a familiar color: the same captivating blue that followed him into his dreams even now.
Not waiting for fanfare from George, he knelt to be at eye level with the boy. Somehow looking at those eyes brought his mind into focus again.
“It’s nice to meet you, Albert. I’m Flik. I’m a friend of your mother.”