![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: The Youngest
’Verse/characters: : Wild Roses, Sebastian du Lac d'Sabaey, Isael Sabaey, (Ruadhan Sabaey)
Prompt: 037: "Sound"
Word Count: 463
Rating: G
Notes: continues from 010 prompt.
’It should have been me’? Sebastian shook his head slowly, only half listening to the now weeping-choked words. Uncle, my father spent three hundred years convinced it was you, and his the hand that did it.
If nothing else, the man crying at his father’s tree behaved like the man his father had described, and he found himself slowly convinced that this really was a walking, breathing living ghost, a never-known uncle back from the dead.
Sneaking a last glance around the cloaking evergreen at the ghost, he turned back towards the house--and jerked back against the rough bark as he registered another presence.
Ruadhan’s youngest son, mostly hidden behind a tree of his own, lifted a finger to his lips in a silent shushing gesture, a small, shy smile behind the finger.
Moments later, assured of temporary silence, his cousin beckoned Sebastian to join him as he walked away from the lake.
As they drew out of earshot in eerily silent woods, Isael cast a glance at Sebastian, then looked back at the trees. “For a bard,” he said softly, “the man can be damnably secretive at times. I don’t think anyone at home even knew he had a single brother, let alone enough to hate and love in such unequal measures.”
Sebastian blinked at his cousin’s profile, then blinked again as he caught the edge of a pattern in the corner of his eye. “ . . what did you know of him, then?” he asked, half curious and half to make conversation.
“A bard, first foremost and always. Older than he looked, and prone to disappearing for years at a time. . . Kind, in a careless sort of way.” Isael shrugged his near shoulder. “He and I didn’t cross paths much, before he brought me here--" a half-careless gesture to the woods, and beyond it the world and the Family.
“He hasn’t changed much, then, from the man my father told stories about.” Sebastian’s mouth twitched into a small smile. “I wish that were reassuring.”
This earned a brief, sun-bright grin. “He’s not, very.” The silence of the woods grew a little deeper as Isael’s smile faded, and he lifted his head to contemplate the crowns of the trees. “But he’s good at what he chooses to do, from what I’ve seen. And that is reassuring, just a little.”
It was a pattern. Faint and more in the patterns of silences than in noise, a melody of lack. No trick of Ian’s, this. Brilliant and mad their great-grandfather had been, but he’d been no musician.
The light dawned, and he cast a half-awed look at his cousin.
Bard’s son, that you could tell by his face, and the pull of his smile.
But was he a Trickster’s son, as well?
’Verse/characters: : Wild Roses, Sebastian du Lac d'Sabaey, Isael Sabaey, (Ruadhan Sabaey)
Prompt: 037: "Sound"
Word Count: 463
Rating: G
Notes: continues from 010 prompt.
’It should have been me’? Sebastian shook his head slowly, only half listening to the now weeping-choked words. Uncle, my father spent three hundred years convinced it was you, and his the hand that did it.
If nothing else, the man crying at his father’s tree behaved like the man his father had described, and he found himself slowly convinced that this really was a walking, breathing living ghost, a never-known uncle back from the dead.
Sneaking a last glance around the cloaking evergreen at the ghost, he turned back towards the house--and jerked back against the rough bark as he registered another presence.
Ruadhan’s youngest son, mostly hidden behind a tree of his own, lifted a finger to his lips in a silent shushing gesture, a small, shy smile behind the finger.
Moments later, assured of temporary silence, his cousin beckoned Sebastian to join him as he walked away from the lake.
As they drew out of earshot in eerily silent woods, Isael cast a glance at Sebastian, then looked back at the trees. “For a bard,” he said softly, “the man can be damnably secretive at times. I don’t think anyone at home even knew he had a single brother, let alone enough to hate and love in such unequal measures.”
Sebastian blinked at his cousin’s profile, then blinked again as he caught the edge of a pattern in the corner of his eye. “ . . what did you know of him, then?” he asked, half curious and half to make conversation.
“A bard, first foremost and always. Older than he looked, and prone to disappearing for years at a time. . . Kind, in a careless sort of way.” Isael shrugged his near shoulder. “He and I didn’t cross paths much, before he brought me here--" a half-careless gesture to the woods, and beyond it the world and the Family.
“He hasn’t changed much, then, from the man my father told stories about.” Sebastian’s mouth twitched into a small smile. “I wish that were reassuring.”
This earned a brief, sun-bright grin. “He’s not, very.” The silence of the woods grew a little deeper as Isael’s smile faded, and he lifted his head to contemplate the crowns of the trees. “But he’s good at what he chooses to do, from what I’ve seen. And that is reassuring, just a little.”
It was a pattern. Faint and more in the patterns of silences than in noise, a melody of lack. No trick of Ian’s, this. Brilliant and mad their great-grandfather had been, but he’d been no musician.
The light dawned, and he cast a half-awed look at his cousin.
Bard’s son, that you could tell by his face, and the pull of his smile.
But was he a Trickster’s son, as well?
no subject
Date: 2005-10-27 03:53 am (UTC)From:And Ruadhan's trick, taught to Isael.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-27 03:55 am (UTC)From:*nods* This makes sense. Thankee.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-27 04:05 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2005-10-27 04:09 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2005-10-27 02:48 pm (UTC)From:*blinks at self, facepalms*