auspex_caelo | Paternal Impostures

Entry tags:

Paternal Impostures

“My dear Felix,

“I write this letter in the same haste with which I travel to meet you. Forgive its brevity, but there is much to be arranged if I am to arrive in time, and I hope that our swift reunion will make up for a short communication. I was delighted, of course, to learn from your brother of your betrothal, though I am sorry that I have heard nothing from you concerning the young man in question. I must confess I am sadly confused that Stratos mentioned no details at all beyond the act of his existence, and at the very end of his letter!”

“I can presume that you will be returning to Bruma for the ceremony, and though your brother said little I infer that this will take place soon. Thus I have obtained an immediate leave of absence from my post; I will hope to meet you and, of course, your husband-to-be, in our home before Evening Star.

“My warmest regards to you, my son, and to your betrothed,

Father.”

Felix folds the letter, where he’s slouched sideways in one of the few decent chairs in camp. He looks across the commander’s tent to Stratos, standing in front of the map-laden table that takes up most of the space. The firelight from the braziers reflects red from the cloth walls and tints the shadows, but Stratos can see his expectant expression before he asks, “Well?” he asks.

Stratos knows his expression is… less than cheerful. He’s known that their father would have to return home for the wedding, like every other relative they can bring home in time. He should welcome that - he does welcome it, the rare opportunity to bring them all together for a glad celebration. Still, there is a reason he insisted Felix send the news, why he’s hardly spoken of their father at all in the past months. If he’s noticed, perhaps Felix has put the blame on his own necromantic exploits still tainting their interactions, limiting what Stratos will and will not say to him.

He doesn’t know how his elder brother’s throat tightens when he thinks of Nereus Caelus, the lead weight in his chest. He doesn’t know what Stratos saw in the Nightmare a year past that still haunts him, or why he’s afraid of whether he’ll be able to look his father in the eye.

It was only a nightmare. It was only an illusion, he tells himself. But he knows illusions play on truth, and Stratos is afraid of what truth he might find in that vision of his father. In Nereus Caelus speaking as a torturer, urging him to take up the tools for the greater good.

Felix certainly divined that Stratos wasn’t going to be happy: he’d shown up bearing cake and offering to make some tea for his brother, and that was enough to prompt the tribune to drop what he was doing and muffle the tent. Both cake and tea sat untouched on the other side of the table, forgotten the moment Felix uttered the words ‘Father’s on his way.’ Stratos knew the man better than his brother, but he understood the trepidation. Nereus Caelus was a distant presence in both their childhoods, kind in person but fearsome in reputation. A man they both feared disappointing. A man whose fond approval, they both suspected, had much to do with how little he knew of his sons’ day-to-day proclivities.

It’s a childish view of a man who is, after all, just a man, high-ranking Imperial wizard or not. But it’s hard to grow out of that image when they’ve so rarely met him as men themselves.

“So we have less time than we planned,” he says. Neither of them has spoken about the wedding as happening any time before the new year; he hasn’t prepared himself to face his father yet. Nor worked out a solution to the many secrets that the wedding risks exposing. Jim is a second brother to him already, but Stratos gets headaches just thinking about Felix’s insistence on finding his husband in another plane of existence… He glowers at the floor. “I’ll have to make my own arrangements - you, of course, had better start ‘traveling’ home… there’s a limit to how swiftly we can organize a wedding in any case, but I need to begin gathering our relatives. Gods only know where Lartia is, I’ll have to ask Marcella, and as for what we say to her…”

“You seem to be taking this surprisingly well.”

“Felix, I have no idea what aspect of my demeanor seems pleased to you. I’m always thankful to see Father, of course, but the amount of work we must see to-”

“Well, yes, but aside from that- aren’t you worried about how he found out? You haven’t so much as asked me who else I’ve told, nor demanded to know who else found their way in.” Felix gave him a closer look. “Did you tell him, after all? You were so insistent I should do it…”

“No. I did not.”

“But it was in your letter. Unless the letter was forged-”

“I sent it.”

“But then- you know who altered it, don’t you?” Felix read his brother’s silence with faint incredulity. “What am I missing, then? Someone has tampered with your letters - and we both know how dangerous that is. It can’t have been Celann or Yolande or one of your well-meaning knights. They know more about illusions than they pretend, but they’re far too honorable. So who-”

“Felix. I know you tend not to view me as such, but I am an experienced tribune of the Legion. I don’t lose my head when crises occur, much less a problem I can quite easily deal with alone. Don’t concern yourself with it.”

“Don’t-? I’m the one who just got ratted out to Father! He’s going to Bruma, and neither of us are supposed to be there - Jim won’t be there, and Uncle probably doesn’t know anything yet… what in Oblivion are we going to tell him, Stratos?”

“I don’t know, Felix. Perhaps you should bend your attention to that question instead. You do have a wedding to prepare for - in our world as well as the other. I should go to it.”

Felix knows when he’s being dismissed - and thankfully, for once he takes the hint. Folding the letter and swinging his feet to the ground, he tucks the paper away and pulled out his PINpoint as he stands. There’s a look in his eye that spells out his displeasure at once more being left out of his brother’s schemes. But instead of saying so he says, “I at least thought you’d panic more about planning the wedding.”

“Oh no, little brother. That’s your job.”

He has the tiny satisfaction of seeing Felix look startled - and alarmed. He manages a scowl before he’s gone, off to Yorktown to find his fiance and break the urgent news.

Stratos sighs heavily, alone with his maps and the slow buffet of the mountain winds against the tent’s heavy cloth. He lifts his voice only a little, but the tone says everything.

”Nekomata.”

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There's someone in his chair.

Well, that's not quite right, is it? After all it is Stratos Caelus sprawled sideways with his legs dangling over the arms of the, much more comfortable it should be noted, chair that is stationed next to the table. Gazing up at the ceiling with the bored expression of a man who is having his time wasted to be called upon right now of all times.

Tribune Caelus gets to watch his own eyes slowly drag themselves across the tent to meet his own.

"You rang?" Of course it's his voice speaking back to him. "You know I'm supposed to be attending one of your stupid meetings right now. What gives?"

Edited 2018-11-10 21:31 (UTC)

He spins on his heel, eyes sharp when they land on his mirror image. It's practically an unspoken confirmation of all his assumptions and suspicions, summed up into one incredibly disconcerting picture. It's a vision of himself, utterly familiar and yet- unrecognizable. Like looking into a mirror after the first time he cast an illusion over himself.

"You-" No, first things first. He checks himself, opens his mouth to order her, and checks his words again. When he speaks, he does so coolly and deliberately, despite the tension in his voice.

"Would you kindly remove yourself from my seat?"

It's the small things about Stratos Caelus that have earned him Nekomata's undying respect and trust. Things she feared she'd lose when the truth of their arrangement became clear in the nightmare still exist. He knows it would take but a change in phrasing to compel her to do as he asks.

They both know it all too well.

And yet he deliberately gives her a choice. And so, because of that, Nekomata pulls herself out of the seat and the illusion of Tribune Caelus falls away as she stands up. In the fluid motion of her raising from the chair she seems to shrink and shift to the eye until a slender catlike demon with golden eyes and twin tails curled up over her shoulder stands in front of the Tribune's chair. She makes an 'all yours' gesture with her hand, sweeping it across the seat as she stands out of the way.

"Nyo seriously, it took me hours to get up there and then you summoned me back. What's up nya?"

Edited 2018-11-18 23:09 (UTC)

In most people's eyes - and in his own - Stratos is far from a man to look kindly on demons. Everything in his upbringing says that such creatures are to be feared, mistrusted, and one never places their wellbeing on a level with that of one's fellow mortals.

But whether he acknowledges it or not, Stratos doesn't think of Nekomata as just some daedra. Whether or not he ever breathes a word about it, when push comes to shove she is not an expendable monster whose pain he can ignore. He made that choice a year ago. He's too honest to pretend he can take it back.

The tribune does come around the table and sit in the chair: he wasn't planning to do so before but now it's a matter of principle. Neko will sit wherever she pleases and so long as it's not on his person he won't object further.

There are more important issues at hand. He fixes her with a direct stare.

"You've been tampering with my letters."

He cuts such a respectable figure, sitting in his seat like he does. Respectable and utterly boring. Though Nekomata knows he's truly anything but. Even if many of his interests are about as scintillating as watching the grass grow. The second most comfortable seat in this place is the one Felix had been lounging in, but Neko won't take it on principle.

Instead she rests her fluffy butt on the edge of the table in a lean more than a sit while she waits for the urgent news.

"Oh, that. You've thrown away no less than eighteen of those stupid things in the last six months, you know? You're welcome, by the way. I figured I'd do you the favor and just finish the damn thing and send it myself. Everything but the last few sentences I copied right out of what seemed most consistent in your throwaway letters."

He should be furious. He should shout and threaten and ultimately forbid her from doing such a thing without a shred of leeway in the command.

He finds himself asking, "Why,, Nekomata?"

Stratos knows - is sure that he knows - she means him no harm. But neither has the feline demon shown the least interest in his family life before. If she happens to know rather too much about his feelings toward his father, well, that's Stratos's problem to deal with. Surely?

Nekomata sighs.

Of all the questions he could ask her, he chooses the one that's the most problematic for her. Theirs is a relationship based on unspoken truths. Acknowledgements neither of them wants to concede to or admit. But again, instead of demanding, Stratos asks. Of course he does.

It would be easier if he didn't. For a moment the cat demon nearly pulls on her human disguise, but she pauses. It might make the point she needs, but it may also give him the wrong idea. Well, she can sort that out properly. Her golden eyes glow steadily before Stratos is face to face with himself again. At least this way there won't be any subtext she has to worry about.

"Because I'm your proxy." She uses his voice, his face, but this time she also mimics his own expression back to him. Gone is her ambivalent posture. Her lax demeanor and bored expression. "And more importantly, you're my friend. D...don't make me say that aloud again, okay?"

Neko knows why Stratos didn't send that letter. She knows why he's struggled for so long to get much of anything done when it comes to his family. And she doesn't care about them nor about any other human in this world or any other. Except...if Stratos cares about them, then she has to in some capacity. That's her job.

"I did it because you couldn't, and because if you put it off for much longer, it would give you trouble."

It's a surprise, to realize that she's as uncomfortable discussing their arrangement out loud as he is. It's a strange thought to him and yet it kindles an odd sympathy in him. Their reasons may be different - their mindsets certainly are - but at least he's not the only one feigning his cool.

Your friend? he wonders. He stares into his own eyes and nods, very slightly, stifling the impulse to ask questions that would make her repeat herself.

"I hadn't thought you were paying such close attention to my personal affairs. It hardly seemed necessary for your assignments..." His gaze shifts to the flag-pocked map spread out across half his table. Back up to his illusory double.

"Is that how you see yourself? Carrying out the tasks I can't bring myself to?" Unasked, at that.

It would also be a hell of a thing to explain if Celann or Yolande or worse, anyone else, walked into the tent now. Nekomata's more than aware of just how sensitive most of what Stratos deals in is, especially where she's concerned. When Stratos moves his gaze back to Nekomata after looking at the map she's at least in the guise she should be in this world.

The illusion he hand crafted himself for her to wear. Imperial uniform and everything.

"I don't pretend to know what you need a lot of the time, or the rules of your world. This one's a special case. I got a real good look at why this in particular gives you such a...discomfort." Hassle is probably not the right word to use, even if it's the one she'd choose in all cases.

"When I get orders I follow them, and even when I don't I have standing orders to fall back on. And lacking that I've got a sweet side job in the Nexus I can always fall back on. This was different, and you know why."

"Reasons I'd prefer not to discuss," he says shortly, but his expression softens a little. He's a man raised to be suspicious of otherworldly beings, and it's hard to consider their contract as any normal sort of friendship. From the sound of it she has no desire to think of it that way either.

And Stratos himself... is not used to anyone else knowing so much of his inner life. Felix comes closest, but these days Felix is making an educated guess at his thoughts more often than not.

But. Nekomata was trying to help, in the way only she could. He can understand that. He can even admit that it's the kind of thing he'd do, if he thought a friend needed a nudge in the right direction.

"I don't care for such interference without my knowledge," he says. "Especially in personal matters. However. I... appreciate your intentions. And your initiative in acting in my interest."

Nekomata knows very well how deeply the man feels; he's just not given to sentimental talk and perhaps that suits her. But he does have some appreciation of what it means for the prideful demon to go out of her way to help him like this.

"You nyot wanting to discuss them is the problem!" Her carefully crafted Imperial accent slips with her annoyance and Stratos can practically see her ears standing as upright as her tails even if neither are visible right now.

"It serves me fine if you don't talk to me about them. I'm not good with you lot and your hangups. But you're pushing away the bone cages you actually like because of this. Your i..." Don't call Felix an idiot even if it's the truth Neko. He'll only get mad. Deep breath, and sigh.

"Your brother. Your old man. You need to take yer own Beldr'damned advice and face your fears before they eat you alive. Felix is about to be somewhere you can't get to or watch over him from for a long, long time. Your old man's gonna be coming soon, yeah? Take advantage of it."

She throws her arms up in a helpless show of frustration.

"This whole thing is a mess. You know how I know? Because the person takin' care of you is me."

"Nekomata." His tone is one of warning, anger simmering beneath it. There's tension built in every muscle, he realizes, and suddenly the demon, the chair, the tent, everything feels too close. He all but throws himself to his feet, pacing across the floor. He needs space, more space to quiet what's crackling inside him, buzzing in his ears.

He forces himself to stay calm. Buries himself in the old familiar demands of rank and duty. Breathes deep for a couple of seconds.

"Your point - and your concern - is noted. But there are some burdens I cannot ask my family to bear. Felix has more than enough worries assailing him, and my father... even if I wanted to tell him, I can't imagine what I would say." Perhaps Marcella would understand, or his uncle, but does he want to mar the upcoming celebrations with his problems? He shakes his head.

"You cyan do better than me."

It's the only point the demon repeats, her human disguise showing her golden eyes for a split second of defiance before she's stepping back wordlessly out of his space and giving him the room he needs to pace. She's seen this cycle time and again right after the nightmare, when his nightmares were so bad she'd have to charm him to get him to calm down.

She hopes, for his own dignity, she doesn't have to do that for him now. Even if it would further prove her point.

"I want you to be right. It would be easier on both of us if you were." She sighs and curls her tails unseen around herself, though the posture she takes is one Stratos may recognize in her even with her demonic features hidden like they are now. "Tell me what you need then. An' I'll do it."

If no one else can, if Celann and Yolande are no good either. The Nekomata will do whatever it takes. She can't let this keep tearing Strtaos apart. Whatever it takes for Stratos Caelus to get his shit together is something she'll do. Even if not gladly. "I ain't ever failed one of your jobs yet an' I'm not about to start now."

He wouldn't have told Nekomata either except that she already knows all about it. And even if he doesn't want to say it, he's lucky for that. For having someone there in the nights when he threw himself out of his bedroll in a panic. Someone who knows that Tribune Caelus is not as sound of heart and mind as he pretends.

"These things fade with time," he says. He's said it before, a mantra he holds to - must hold to, given the course of action he's chosen.

"My father is on his way to our family home. I... will need you to cover for me when I return there to meet him."

It's an even trade for everything Stratos Caelus knows about Nekomata and demons in general that she'd rather no human know. The true nature of a demonic contract places much more power in the hands of humanity than they realize, despite the very real dangers in making one. Ownership of a soul is serious business and for a mage who's by all accounts going to live much longer than the ordinary man it's a long sentence of servitude.

Still.

Neko doesn't regret her choice. If she had to be lashed to anyone in this multiverse, Stratos Caelus is probably her best option.

"I thought you took leave for that. Am I covering for you for unfinished business here, or are you really expecting me to pretend to be you around your family?"

"I'm requesting leave to prepare for the wedding, but I expect my father to arrive well before I'm permitted to go. Given the circumstances, I'm not going to leave Jim and Felix to handle that by themselves." It's just too delicate a situation, and Jim needs someone there who can cover for him if need be.

"So no, you'll be glad to hear I don't expect you to sit through any family stories. But I do need to make sure I can be seen at my post should anyone come looking."

"So it's the usual then. Instructions and correspondence via PINpoint, an' then I get to stand around giving meatsacks orders and pretending I'm not enjoying it until you get back."

On the other hand it means she gets to stay in Stratos' tent while he's gone and that will be nicer than her usual hangouts, especially with winter closing in fast around here. It's not a bad gig, getting to pretend to be in charge for a while. Just don't think too hard about how a demon knows the inner workings of your camp better than most anyone else, Stratos.

"I'll keep a low profile, Boss."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Paternal Impostures

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject