The Good Place (2/2)

Writers: Iluva
Date Posted: 23rd May 2024

Characters: T'mhas, M'rhas
Description: When it comes to disciplinary action, a parent's state of mind makes a world of difference
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 9, day 9 of Turn 11
Notes: Mentioned: M'thos, Lemhask, Varethos, Malaka (NPC), T'lonas

T'mhas

M'rhas

The expectation had been a bath and maybe some klah on the other side of the door, not _this_.

"What are you doin'?" He asked, not sure whether that sounded angry or amazed.

Merhaskel had enough sense to look sheepish, though that was really only because he'd been caught. Their sometimes-painful-sometimes-proud similarities meant Tam _knew_ this kid didn't explain unless cornered. He didn't apologize unless he meant it and he didn't bend unless he (reluctantly) agreed to.

Confused, T'mhas took a moment to survey the scene.

Was he... jealous of his kid's abilities and liberties here? His creativity?

Or could it be that living here, in a Weyr, simply allowed his son to be _this much_ of himself? Someone who felt safe and confident enough in the existence of adult mercy to take these kinds of risks?

Or was it that the Weyr had allowed _him_, T'mhas, to be fully himself, which by extension just allowed his own kid to grow this brazen, this brave, this secure in himself to do something so stupid?

Should he be... proud?

T'mhas grit his teeth. The warmth of Ghraisath's contentment bled across their minds as he tried to figure out what M'thos would do. That method had helped when the kids were smaller and his temper had to be painstakingly curtailed into calm and measured explanations, not wanting to scare them, not really (okay only a little) when reminding them it wasn't safe to try and climb the shelves or kind to dive bomb the neighbour's firelizard once they were up there. These weren't things that came naturally. These things took time. These were deliberate, conscious choices that he had to make again and again.

And again.

And it had all happened here, in this Weyr, in _this_ weyr. The headaches, the triumphs, the challenges and excitements. And looking at _this kid_, he had to remind himself that it wasn't Rhas' fault, or Ghraisath's, or the bloody Search dragon that found him in Agate Valley, either. Maybe it was no one's. Maybe whatever this was was yet another challenge, another _opportunity_ to guide one of those little faces with a vicious stranglehold on his heart.

Strangely none of that made him feel better as he took in the shimmering mess all across the floor, nor did his thinking clear when he listened to Merhaskel 'explain'.

Weak anger surfaced in response, just enough to prove it existed. Perhaps the directionless desire to protect the kid from himself. He couldn't bother Merry now, not when he was busy teaching everyone else's children. No time to teach him, too, these days. And the kid's mother - no Faranth-forsaken way was Malaka getting dragged into this. That was all he needed.

}: Osrynth _is_ at home. :{ Ghraisath said sleepily.

**Why wouldja even tell me that?**

}: Well, his mother loves him, same as you. She could... help? :{

**You know I'd sooner sleep with her than do that.**

The velvety lightness of Ghraisath's laughter pulled T'mhas' lips into a smile.

"Dad...?"

His eyes refocused. He looked down at the perplexed, greasy face staring back up at him in enough oil to coat a bronze dragon, into the grey-green eyes of his mother as they begged for some poorly understood mercy.

Part of the problem was that this was as much his responsibility as a parent as it was his _fault_. The boy was a natural, no doubt, but Merhaskel's nose for trouble may have been encouraged (well, not discouraged) enough that at this point the kid must have _known_ this amused and delighted his father as much as it annoyed and downright infuriated him.

The image of what Rhas' 'plan' was came to him again and he tried to keep his smile from spreading.

Merhaskel. Greased up.

Merhaskel. Ready to dive head first through the barracks.

Merhaskel. A human bowling ball hurtling toward the glisten of empty bottles arranged for pins.

No further thought must have formed beyond that. Nothing but absolute assurance and the promise of hilarity, which was really all his son ever needed. Just some cheap instincts holding a quixotic quick logic.

The possibility of hitting someone or something else, or ending up in a bed of broken glass, or careening headfirst into a wall -- those things simply failed to materialize under that curly mop. For a kid who wanted to Impress so badly he was on the fast-track to bashing his brains into pulp.

Tam groaned a little. He really should have seen this coming. Looking at him, he knew all that had mattered to Merhaskel was some oil for dragonhide, the deadly combination of the initial thought and immediate impulse, and an ear half-cocked for dragonwings.

The kid had something stuck in his hair too, Tam realized. Thick, possibly sticky, laden with flecks of ash or dust, maybe, if they were lucky. That failed to register when he'd first strolled in through the door and caught his son completely unawares, a criminal gleaming in medias res. Ghraisath was still basking in the glorious glow of winning that green, and it was rare for anyone to come in from anywhere but the ledge at this time of day.

Well, as far as he could tell it was just the one kid's misdeeds to address. There _was_ always the possibility that Lem or one of the others was doing something related to this, too, perhaps even simultaneously, perhaps at this minute-- No. He didn't want to know, not right now.

And quite honestly it was nothing short of surprising -- gratifying? amazing?-- how he hadn't stumbled upon something quite like this before. Just how much did Varethos handle before it ever reached their fathers' ears? Nope, he didn't want to know that either.

"Where you supposed to be now?"

"T'lonas...? A... lecture, I think?"

Of course the kid didn't know.

Sighing, T'mhas jerked his head for him to follow. "Get in the bathin' pool."

Rhas slipped and slid and scrambled up after him.

A long, suspiciously quiet stretch of time passed. He might've thought the boy had drowned in there, and that might've had Tam poking his head in to see what was taking so sharding long. The water's surface danced and darted wildly, shining pools of oil and light lapping without rhythm, because as it turned out it required the two of them to violently scrub whatever substance was matted into the hair. Tam didn't even bother to ask. The only real surprise at this point was that the kid still had a scalp.

Now, running a towel roughly over his head, pushing those dark curls this way and that, Merhaskel seemed mildly perplexed that his half-hearted attempts at contrition didn't land. Fresh water pouring in, he hauled a clean shirt and trousers on and started gathering his things.

Nearly as much time and effort was put into making the entranceway floor safe again, with Rhas operating with all the meticulousness of a good samaritan, propelled by some ghostly hope that if he did this _just right_ there was a chance of being spared real consequences. He didn't even fight the expectedly rough embrace when he finished, like seriously. That had to be worth at least a point.

As T'mhas finally sunk into the pool, stretching huge arms out along the rim, his freckled face appeared in the doorway. "You're not gonna tell Dad, are you?"

"No." T'mhas grunted, distantly, as if the question barely registered.

Merhaskel sighed with relief.

"You are."

"What?" Merhaskel started, eyes wide. "Aw c'mon Dad, it's not like I even did it. Why are you mad at me for something I didn't even _do_?"

"I ain't mad." T'mhas laughed. "This is gonna be friggin' hilarious."

Last updated on the May 24th 2024

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The Good Place (2/2)