TenfoldShields
Lounging on a Hoard of Words
- Pronouns
- He/Him
i think you misunderstand what i'm going for here
Advance Australia Fair [Old World of Darkness]
i think you misunderstand what i'm going for here
WanderingEye
smol skeleton
[X] Tell Lakshmi exactly what the fuck's wrong with you.
- Location
- Mountains and rivers
- Location
- Spain
[X] Tell Lakshmi that you're glad she knows where her priorities are.
No. of votes: 13
Da Boyz, Omegahugger, TenfoldShields, Revlid, Romv, toxinvictory, Nidhoggr, Wade Garrett, Envariel, will408914, cB557, Broken25, ertniter
[X] Tell Lakshmi exactly what the fuck's wrong with you.
No. of votes: 11
LaRed, LupineVolt, hcvquizibo, Bludflag, Tarock Star, Kyrina, Yonatan, The Laurent, veekie, Sucal, WanderingEye
No. of votes: 13
Da Boyz, Omegahugger, TenfoldShields, Revlid, Romv, toxinvictory, Nidhoggr, Wade Garrett, Envariel, will408914, cB557, Broken25, ertniter
[X] Tell Lakshmi exactly what the fuck's wrong with you.
No. of votes: 11
LaRed, LupineVolt, hcvquizibo, Bludflag, Tarock Star, Kyrina, Yonatan, The Laurent, veekie, Sucal, WanderingEye
Ridiculously Average Guy
I'm you, but stronger
- Location
-
[X] Tell Lakshmi that you're glad she knows where her priorities are.
This is the best answer given arguing with family/between siblings.
Nobody can hurt you as much as those who know you best~
This is the best answer given arguing with family/between siblings.
Nobody can hurt you as much as those who know you best~
[X] Tell Lakshmi that you're glad she knows where her priorities are.
Chapter Five: A Chance For Renewal
ZerbanDaGreat
Daemon Noble of D E M O G R A P H I C S
- Pronouns
- They/them
"I'm glad you know what's really important," you say. It's not really something you think about. Not something you mull over long and hard, searching for just the right response. The words just fall from your mouth, coming easily. Nastily.
"Do you?" Lakshmi snaps, her hands on her hips.
"At least I don't pretend to be white so that people will like me."
Slap. The impact is immediate. Instinctual. Your left cheek stings and smarts, burning like fire. Lakshmi's hand must hurt just as badly. The sound seems to echo, lingering unnaturally. Filling the hallway before finally ebbing away, replaced with nothing but silence. The vaguest notes of your breath, her breath. You look at her. She looks at you.
"That's how it felt," you say.
She says nothing. She just forces her way past you. For a moment you consider grabbing her, stopping her. Yelling at her. Apologising to her? You don't know what you want. You don't act, and like that she's gone. Soon you hear the distant sound of the front gate opening and closing.
You go to your bathroom and wash your face. Your cheek is still stinging. The red mark is still bright on your face.
You and Lakshmi do apologise to each other. Eventually. But it's a rote thing, a mandatory thing. There's no real conviction behind the words as you both get it over with as soon as possible. The things that were said, left unsaid, still linger between the two of you. Slowly congealing like tar. You can still see her, sure. You exchange a few words with her when you bump into each other around her house, light small talk about how things are going at school. But that's all.
Dad's trying not to be too angry at you. He believes your story about David provoking you. He just doesn't let that excuse you. For the next three days, whenever he gets home you have to sit through lectures about thinking before you act, learning patience and temperance. It all goes in one ear and right out the other. Perhaps more accurately it just hits the barrier. A barrier identical to the one between you and Lakshmi, finally complete after years of slow, inexorable buildup. The man feels like a stranger, sometimes. Always busy, always fobbing you off to Ms. Jenkins, always keeping Mum at arm's length from you. Always hiding things from you. Now you're just angry. He doesn't understand what it was like, how could he? If he knew what it was like, if he was really in your shoes, he'd have done the same thing. He's ignorant and a hypocrite for presuming he can lecture you like this.
Mostly he's angry about you getting yourself kicked out of the best school he could find for you. You didn't like it that much anyway. But Dad simply won't let it go now. That was the only nondenominational school he could find that was up to his standards, he keeps saying. But now that you're out it comes down to a choice between faith and education, and he's going to choose education for you. And to make matters worse you got yourself expelled in the first term of a school year. The mad scramble to arrange your enrolment in the new school so you can catch up on your work and be ready for second term, on top of regular work-stress, leaves Dad tetchy and irritable. You happily stay far out of his way, only emerging in common ground when absolutely necessary. The wall grows thicker.
A suitable school is found, close enough to home that you can take public transport. Dad leaves again the instant he can, citing unavoidable work things. You don't really care. The house is so quiet and empty with him away and Lakshmi at school that it's hard to focus on your schoolwork, your senses instinctively straining to hear Ms. Jenkins' movements about the place. You keep getting sidetracked. Your mind wanders.
None of your friends call you again.
You finally start school at the new place. It's all-boys this time - seems 'co-ed' wasn't high on Dad's priority list now that you and Lakshmi are going to different schools. It's hard enough on the first day, being introduced to classes that have already been through weeks of school together. Already been through three years of high school together, in most cases. And then, of course, there's the fact that the place is Anglican. There's an hour-long Chapel every Thursday after lunch, and a Bible Studies class period on Fridays. You don't make a big deal about it. Why should you make a big deal about it? None of the kids seem particularly inclined toward god-bothering. Plenty of them seem just as bored with Chapel as you are, as happy as you are to treat Bible Studies as a bludging session. But there's still that little voice in the back of your mind. A little truth that makes itself known. It's just not worth it to make a big deal about being Hindu. You don't need special treatment. You should just stay quiet about it. Safest that way. You don't know anyone and you don't particularly want to know anyone, either. More walls sprout.
July rolls around. Dad says he has to be in Brisbane for a week for a conference, but he'll be back to celebrate your birthdays on the weekend. Lakshmi says he doesn't have to wait up on her, she'll just head out to the movies with her friends on the 14th. You lie and say that's what you're doing too.
The 14th dawns. Your phone vibrates. A text from Dad; 'Happy Birthday! xxooxo'. You check the time, and wait. Soon enough you hear the sounds of movement and chatter as Lakshmi has breakfast and gets ready for school. The jingle of keys, the door opening and shutting. You wait. The car starting, rolling back down the driveway. The gate halves powering apart. The low-pitched whine of the tires creaking against the asphalt and the car takes off down the road, out of earshot.
You ring school and tell them you're sick. Your husky, early-morning voice is somewhat convincing but they still want a doctor's certificate or some shit. Honestly you don't care. You just hang up and slump out of bed. Can't just stay inside all day, no matter how much you want to. Ms. Jenkins will be back sooner rather than later. Besides, you don't have anything to do.
Your eyes alight on your bow case.
The hours pass in a blur. There's no thought in your head. No distractions. You don't have to worry about school or Mum or Dad or Lakshmi. The world shrinks until it's nothing but you, your bow, and the target. Draw, hold, release. Wind up the tension in your muscles to breaking point, then let fly. A satisfying rhythm, a soothing rhythm. One shot flows into the next.
You're startled out of your reverie by a hand on your shoulder. Time's up. The club's closing for the night. Plus, as the range instructor illustrates by passing you his binoculars, you just ruined one of your arrows by splitting it in half. Not that you accomplished an amazing Robin Hood-esque feat of marksmanship in a daze, of course. The arrows are just clustered so thickly around the vicinity of the centre ring that splitting one simply became a statistical certainty. You planned to spend a lot of time here. You brought a lot of arrows. The guy asks you why you were here all day, all alone on a school day. You tell him the truth. He heats up a sausage roll and hands it to you with a Coke, free of charge, on the way out. You smile weakly and thank him.
You make it home. No one's there to greet you. Ms. Jenkins must be out chaperoning, or just chauffeuring. You take the ice cream out of the freezer and go to your room.
Dad takes you out to Indian for dinner on Saturday, just the two of you. He's friends with the owner, Sanjay. And Sanjay happens to have the second-best butter chicken and cheese naan on the menu that you've ever had in your life. It's... nice. It's an attempt. The food's really good and he mentions seeing the new Star Trek with you next week - not at home 'from a friend' but in the theatres, for the authentic experience. You chat a little about Star Trek. He admits to being a huge fan of the TV shows when he was younger. It's kind of funny to imagine Dad as a hardcore Trekkie, doing the salute and everything. He says he thought the JJ Abrams movies were pretty crap, just being war movies instead of highbrow exploration of philosophy and ethics in a post-scarcity spacefaring sci-fi. Not that there's nothing wrong with a good war movie, he's quick to add before you can mumble out something about liking the Abrams ones. In any case, he says he heard the third reboot one is a lot better. You smile a little, say you'd like to see it with him.
He asks about school. The mood sours. You decide not to stay for dessert. He asks for the cheque and you leave.
No Second Birthday again. Mum's busy, tied up in her own business. She Skypes you and Lakshmi in October, same time as usual, but it isn't the same. At one point you may have even been approaching excited to tell her how much better at archery you are now. Instead, when she asks all you can do in reply is shrug and mumble.
You spend lots of time with Rob. Well, sometimes not 'with' strictly speaking. A lot of the time you're just there to do your homework, there to be somewhere quiet that isn't shut up in your room at home. There to stretch out on the lawn of an unfamiliar garden where no one you know can see you. Of course you chat from time to time, from sports to movies to what you're working on in the syllabus. You eventually tell him about your archery hobby - it didn't start out very secret, but these days it feels secret what with all the practice you get when you're all alone. He suggests bringing it to Dad, maybe thinking of making a career out of it. You're an athletic kid and you're young, he says. You can do it. You think of the wall between you and Dad. You lie and say you'll think about it.
A year passes. This time the 14th falls on the last week before school starts back up. You take the opportunity to sleep in. When you do wake up you don't even check the time, just throw on the first set of clothes you find and shuffle out barefoot into the house. You beeline for the kitchen, still blinking and rubbing sleep from your eyes. Doesn't seem to be much light coming through the windows. Must be the middle third of the day or so. You take a spoon from the cutlery drawer and a tub of yoghurt from the fridge.
"Ah!" A half-yelp of surprise greets you as you turn. There's an unfamiliar teenage girl standing in front of you, all dolled up and ready for a night out. She's a bit early for that, it seems. She blinks at you, uncomprehending. "Uh... hi?"
You slowly peel the lid off the yoghurt and lick the excess off the underside.
"Lakshmi didn't say she'd be inviting any boys," she ventures.
You scoop up a spoonful of strawberry yoghurt and put it in your mouth.
"You a... secret boyfriend of hers?" she guesses.
"You're in my kitchen," you reply with a mouthful of yoghurt.
She goes red in the face and promptly flees with all due haste. You just turn around and go to the cupboard, getting out a fresh glass to pour yourself some OJ in between mouthfuls of yoghurt. Now that your senses have fully awakened you can hear the chatting in one of the further-off rooms, punctuated by bouts of giggling. Fucking Lakshmi. Sure you never specifically asked her not to bring friends around but you would've thought that would be a pretty fucking obvious thing she could not do. Not that you care what her shitty friends think. Certainly not as much as she does. But it would've been nice to have some warning.
You pull out your phone and tap the screen a few times. You have your OJ, finish your yoghurt, have another glass of OJ and finish that too. You sprawl across the couch and just lie there, possessed by no particular desire to bother turning on the TV. Soon enough the doorbell rings. You get up. Lakshmi goes to the door as well. She stops mid-stride when she notices you. Maybe even she forgot that you live here. You say nothing, don't even look at her. You just open the door, thank the pizza guy, and take your order into your room. Lakshmi doesn't say a word.
Another year passes. It's the mid-year term break again. Lakshmi's out with her friends again. You're stretched out on the white leather couch, finishing up the last of a bag of chips. You're watching TV but you're not really watching it. It's more like it happens to be existing in your general vicinity while you face forward. All the sound and colour just slides right off you. Your head is completely empty of thoughts. Sadly not the good way.
Your phone rings. Dad, according to Caller ID. You consider letting it ring out for a moment. On the eighth ring, you hit 'accept call'.
"Hey."
"Hey, mate! How are you?"
"Fine."
"Fine?"
"Mhm."
The connection's not very good. There's crackly background noise, the sound of pure randomness as the line tries to fill in what isn't there. Dad coughs to clear his throat.
"Well you don't... you don't sound fine, Meghanada. And that worries me."
"Does it?"
A crackling rush of static as he sighs. "I'm sorry I've been jet-setting so much recently, buddy. Work's picked up too much and I keep telling them I need more time to spend with you two but they just won't listen to me."
"It's fine," you say with a shrug, even though he can't see you. "You see us plenty."
"Maybe, yeah. But then again I'm not really the one you wanna see more of, eh?"
"Huh?" you say stupidly.
"Listen. I was meant to keep this as a surprise, but I think it's better you know right now. I dunno. Might help perk you up a bit. But I talked with your Mum and we've been working on her schedule together, and we got you something special. Just for you."
You sit up, the leather creaking. "What d'you mean?"
"I'm pulling you out of school on your 18th so you can fly up to the Gold Coast and see Mum," he says. "There's two return tickets to India waiting for you. Call it an early gap year. You can just finish Year 12 when you get back - I've already made the arrangements."
You're completely silent.
"... you there, buddy? Did we drop out?" Dad asks, slightly worried.
"N-nah, heh, we're good," you stammer out. "I just, um..." You sniff, kneading your eyes. "Thanks dad. That's a really great birthday present."
He chuckles. "Don't mention it. Besides, Mum says she has one just as good all lined up for you when you get there. I don't really believe her but, hey, what do I know? I'm a man."
You laugh. "See you soon, Dad."
"Seeya."
When the day comes you're... you can scarcely believe it but you're excited. Would you even venture to say 'elated'? Maybe! You're not sure and you don't really care. You don't remember feeling this excited or energetic or enthused or any other e-word about something in about three years. You're actually organised in advance for once in your life. Your suitcase is all packed and ready to go, your phone charged, your wallet in your pocket, everything in order. You've said your goodbyes to Lakshmi, such as they were - the wall is still there, but at least now you have something nice on the horizon to see when you turn away from that particular problem.
Speaking of the horizon. You look out across it as you sit on your suitcase out the front, basking in the dying light of the sun. Letting your eyes drift closed, the gentle breeze that heralds the coming night taking the edge off the heat. Pretty warm for a Winter afternoon. It'll be downright freezing in an hour or two. But you're sure you'll be safe in the car, or in the plane, by then. Dad said either he or Ms. Jenkins'd be around by about 6. You dig out your phone to check. 6:12. You consider the number, then shrug. It's fine. Three more minutes, then you'll call him. Even if he's late, you don't really care. You're willing to give him plenty of slack for this.
A police car rolls down the street. Not really much cause for alarm. They cruise through the community fairly regularly, just checking things out. You tune them out, mostly. Only take notice when you see Dad waving at them as they pass by, or the few times you saw them park so he could chat to them. It's a safe neighbourhood and they're one of the reasons it feels that way. No, you notice because it slows to a stop right outside your house. You hear the distant sound of a handbrake engaging, and two doors opening as the cops get out, but the engine keeps running. You stand, begin to slowly walk forward. One cop steps forward, eyes hidden by aviators, one hand on his hip. The other motions for you to open the gate. You do, obviously. You head to the keypad and punch in the code. There's a soft click as the electronic lock gives way, and the steel gate slides out of the way. You step out into the driveway, and the cop mirrors your motion.
"G'day," he says, hands resting on his hips. "Your sister home too?"
"Uh... yeah?" you say slowly, glancing over your shoulder. "What's this about?"
"Well, uh... wish I was here under better circumstances, mate, but it looks like things haven't really worked out that way." He adjusts his cap, his leather jacket rustling. " 'fraid there's been a bit of an incident."
"What?" Your brow furrows. "What kind of incident? Something happen with Dad?"
"Look, just so you know, neither of you are in trouble." The cop raises his hands, patting the air a little to assuage your worries. "But I'm afraid I'm gonna have to ask you and your sister to come with us down to the station. There's been a security breach and Mr. Dane's made his preference known that this is how he wants situations of this kind to be handled."
You're... you're not sure how to take this. It's a lot to process all at once, pretty much the definition of a hard one-eighty in how you expected today to go. You squint against the practically horizontal rays of the setting sun, peering at the cop's face. His mouth is smiling, but you can't see his eyes.
[ ] Agree. After all, Dad knows these guys. No time to waste fucking around because you have a funny feeling.
[ ] Say you'll go get Lakshmi. Bring her up to speed once you're inside, ask her what the Hell she thinks is going on and what you should do.
[ ] Ask the cops for ID and call Dad. Maybe you're just being paranoid, maybe not. You don't care. It'll only take a minute.
[ ] Tell them to back off and keep your finger near the button to close the gate. Something doesn't feel right. And honestly, you're in a shit mood anyway.
"Do you?" Lakshmi snaps, her hands on her hips.
"At least I don't pretend to be white so that people will like me."
Slap. The impact is immediate. Instinctual. Your left cheek stings and smarts, burning like fire. Lakshmi's hand must hurt just as badly. The sound seems to echo, lingering unnaturally. Filling the hallway before finally ebbing away, replaced with nothing but silence. The vaguest notes of your breath, her breath. You look at her. She looks at you.
"That's how it felt," you say.
She says nothing. She just forces her way past you. For a moment you consider grabbing her, stopping her. Yelling at her. Apologising to her? You don't know what you want. You don't act, and like that she's gone. Soon you hear the distant sound of the front gate opening and closing.
You go to your bathroom and wash your face. Your cheek is still stinging. The red mark is still bright on your face.
You and Lakshmi do apologise to each other. Eventually. But it's a rote thing, a mandatory thing. There's no real conviction behind the words as you both get it over with as soon as possible. The things that were said, left unsaid, still linger between the two of you. Slowly congealing like tar. You can still see her, sure. You exchange a few words with her when you bump into each other around her house, light small talk about how things are going at school. But that's all.
Dad's trying not to be too angry at you. He believes your story about David provoking you. He just doesn't let that excuse you. For the next three days, whenever he gets home you have to sit through lectures about thinking before you act, learning patience and temperance. It all goes in one ear and right out the other. Perhaps more accurately it just hits the barrier. A barrier identical to the one between you and Lakshmi, finally complete after years of slow, inexorable buildup. The man feels like a stranger, sometimes. Always busy, always fobbing you off to Ms. Jenkins, always keeping Mum at arm's length from you. Always hiding things from you. Now you're just angry. He doesn't understand what it was like, how could he? If he knew what it was like, if he was really in your shoes, he'd have done the same thing. He's ignorant and a hypocrite for presuming he can lecture you like this.
Mostly he's angry about you getting yourself kicked out of the best school he could find for you. You didn't like it that much anyway. But Dad simply won't let it go now. That was the only nondenominational school he could find that was up to his standards, he keeps saying. But now that you're out it comes down to a choice between faith and education, and he's going to choose education for you. And to make matters worse you got yourself expelled in the first term of a school year. The mad scramble to arrange your enrolment in the new school so you can catch up on your work and be ready for second term, on top of regular work-stress, leaves Dad tetchy and irritable. You happily stay far out of his way, only emerging in common ground when absolutely necessary. The wall grows thicker.
A suitable school is found, close enough to home that you can take public transport. Dad leaves again the instant he can, citing unavoidable work things. You don't really care. The house is so quiet and empty with him away and Lakshmi at school that it's hard to focus on your schoolwork, your senses instinctively straining to hear Ms. Jenkins' movements about the place. You keep getting sidetracked. Your mind wanders.
None of your friends call you again.
You finally start school at the new place. It's all-boys this time - seems 'co-ed' wasn't high on Dad's priority list now that you and Lakshmi are going to different schools. It's hard enough on the first day, being introduced to classes that have already been through weeks of school together. Already been through three years of high school together, in most cases. And then, of course, there's the fact that the place is Anglican. There's an hour-long Chapel every Thursday after lunch, and a Bible Studies class period on Fridays. You don't make a big deal about it. Why should you make a big deal about it? None of the kids seem particularly inclined toward god-bothering. Plenty of them seem just as bored with Chapel as you are, as happy as you are to treat Bible Studies as a bludging session. But there's still that little voice in the back of your mind. A little truth that makes itself known. It's just not worth it to make a big deal about being Hindu. You don't need special treatment. You should just stay quiet about it. Safest that way. You don't know anyone and you don't particularly want to know anyone, either. More walls sprout.
July rolls around. Dad says he has to be in Brisbane for a week for a conference, but he'll be back to celebrate your birthdays on the weekend. Lakshmi says he doesn't have to wait up on her, she'll just head out to the movies with her friends on the 14th. You lie and say that's what you're doing too.
The 14th dawns. Your phone vibrates. A text from Dad; 'Happy Birthday! xxooxo'. You check the time, and wait. Soon enough you hear the sounds of movement and chatter as Lakshmi has breakfast and gets ready for school. The jingle of keys, the door opening and shutting. You wait. The car starting, rolling back down the driveway. The gate halves powering apart. The low-pitched whine of the tires creaking against the asphalt and the car takes off down the road, out of earshot.
You ring school and tell them you're sick. Your husky, early-morning voice is somewhat convincing but they still want a doctor's certificate or some shit. Honestly you don't care. You just hang up and slump out of bed. Can't just stay inside all day, no matter how much you want to. Ms. Jenkins will be back sooner rather than later. Besides, you don't have anything to do.
Your eyes alight on your bow case.
The hours pass in a blur. There's no thought in your head. No distractions. You don't have to worry about school or Mum or Dad or Lakshmi. The world shrinks until it's nothing but you, your bow, and the target. Draw, hold, release. Wind up the tension in your muscles to breaking point, then let fly. A satisfying rhythm, a soothing rhythm. One shot flows into the next.
You're startled out of your reverie by a hand on your shoulder. Time's up. The club's closing for the night. Plus, as the range instructor illustrates by passing you his binoculars, you just ruined one of your arrows by splitting it in half. Not that you accomplished an amazing Robin Hood-esque feat of marksmanship in a daze, of course. The arrows are just clustered so thickly around the vicinity of the centre ring that splitting one simply became a statistical certainty. You planned to spend a lot of time here. You brought a lot of arrows. The guy asks you why you were here all day, all alone on a school day. You tell him the truth. He heats up a sausage roll and hands it to you with a Coke, free of charge, on the way out. You smile weakly and thank him.
You make it home. No one's there to greet you. Ms. Jenkins must be out chaperoning, or just chauffeuring. You take the ice cream out of the freezer and go to your room.
Dad takes you out to Indian for dinner on Saturday, just the two of you. He's friends with the owner, Sanjay. And Sanjay happens to have the second-best butter chicken and cheese naan on the menu that you've ever had in your life. It's... nice. It's an attempt. The food's really good and he mentions seeing the new Star Trek with you next week - not at home 'from a friend' but in the theatres, for the authentic experience. You chat a little about Star Trek. He admits to being a huge fan of the TV shows when he was younger. It's kind of funny to imagine Dad as a hardcore Trekkie, doing the salute and everything. He says he thought the JJ Abrams movies were pretty crap, just being war movies instead of highbrow exploration of philosophy and ethics in a post-scarcity spacefaring sci-fi. Not that there's nothing wrong with a good war movie, he's quick to add before you can mumble out something about liking the Abrams ones. In any case, he says he heard the third reboot one is a lot better. You smile a little, say you'd like to see it with him.
He asks about school. The mood sours. You decide not to stay for dessert. He asks for the cheque and you leave.
No Second Birthday again. Mum's busy, tied up in her own business. She Skypes you and Lakshmi in October, same time as usual, but it isn't the same. At one point you may have even been approaching excited to tell her how much better at archery you are now. Instead, when she asks all you can do in reply is shrug and mumble.
You spend lots of time with Rob. Well, sometimes not 'with' strictly speaking. A lot of the time you're just there to do your homework, there to be somewhere quiet that isn't shut up in your room at home. There to stretch out on the lawn of an unfamiliar garden where no one you know can see you. Of course you chat from time to time, from sports to movies to what you're working on in the syllabus. You eventually tell him about your archery hobby - it didn't start out very secret, but these days it feels secret what with all the practice you get when you're all alone. He suggests bringing it to Dad, maybe thinking of making a career out of it. You're an athletic kid and you're young, he says. You can do it. You think of the wall between you and Dad. You lie and say you'll think about it.
A year passes. This time the 14th falls on the last week before school starts back up. You take the opportunity to sleep in. When you do wake up you don't even check the time, just throw on the first set of clothes you find and shuffle out barefoot into the house. You beeline for the kitchen, still blinking and rubbing sleep from your eyes. Doesn't seem to be much light coming through the windows. Must be the middle third of the day or so. You take a spoon from the cutlery drawer and a tub of yoghurt from the fridge.
"Ah!" A half-yelp of surprise greets you as you turn. There's an unfamiliar teenage girl standing in front of you, all dolled up and ready for a night out. She's a bit early for that, it seems. She blinks at you, uncomprehending. "Uh... hi?"
You slowly peel the lid off the yoghurt and lick the excess off the underside.
"Lakshmi didn't say she'd be inviting any boys," she ventures.
You scoop up a spoonful of strawberry yoghurt and put it in your mouth.
"You a... secret boyfriend of hers?" she guesses.
"You're in my kitchen," you reply with a mouthful of yoghurt.
She goes red in the face and promptly flees with all due haste. You just turn around and go to the cupboard, getting out a fresh glass to pour yourself some OJ in between mouthfuls of yoghurt. Now that your senses have fully awakened you can hear the chatting in one of the further-off rooms, punctuated by bouts of giggling. Fucking Lakshmi. Sure you never specifically asked her not to bring friends around but you would've thought that would be a pretty fucking obvious thing she could not do. Not that you care what her shitty friends think. Certainly not as much as she does. But it would've been nice to have some warning.
You pull out your phone and tap the screen a few times. You have your OJ, finish your yoghurt, have another glass of OJ and finish that too. You sprawl across the couch and just lie there, possessed by no particular desire to bother turning on the TV. Soon enough the doorbell rings. You get up. Lakshmi goes to the door as well. She stops mid-stride when she notices you. Maybe even she forgot that you live here. You say nothing, don't even look at her. You just open the door, thank the pizza guy, and take your order into your room. Lakshmi doesn't say a word.
Another year passes. It's the mid-year term break again. Lakshmi's out with her friends again. You're stretched out on the white leather couch, finishing up the last of a bag of chips. You're watching TV but you're not really watching it. It's more like it happens to be existing in your general vicinity while you face forward. All the sound and colour just slides right off you. Your head is completely empty of thoughts. Sadly not the good way.
Your phone rings. Dad, according to Caller ID. You consider letting it ring out for a moment. On the eighth ring, you hit 'accept call'.
"Hey."
"Hey, mate! How are you?"
"Fine."
"Fine?"
"Mhm."
The connection's not very good. There's crackly background noise, the sound of pure randomness as the line tries to fill in what isn't there. Dad coughs to clear his throat.
"Well you don't... you don't sound fine, Meghanada. And that worries me."
"Does it?"
A crackling rush of static as he sighs. "I'm sorry I've been jet-setting so much recently, buddy. Work's picked up too much and I keep telling them I need more time to spend with you two but they just won't listen to me."
"It's fine," you say with a shrug, even though he can't see you. "You see us plenty."
"Maybe, yeah. But then again I'm not really the one you wanna see more of, eh?"
"Huh?" you say stupidly.
"Listen. I was meant to keep this as a surprise, but I think it's better you know right now. I dunno. Might help perk you up a bit. But I talked with your Mum and we've been working on her schedule together, and we got you something special. Just for you."
You sit up, the leather creaking. "What d'you mean?"
"I'm pulling you out of school on your 18th so you can fly up to the Gold Coast and see Mum," he says. "There's two return tickets to India waiting for you. Call it an early gap year. You can just finish Year 12 when you get back - I've already made the arrangements."
You're completely silent.
"... you there, buddy? Did we drop out?" Dad asks, slightly worried.
"N-nah, heh, we're good," you stammer out. "I just, um..." You sniff, kneading your eyes. "Thanks dad. That's a really great birthday present."
He chuckles. "Don't mention it. Besides, Mum says she has one just as good all lined up for you when you get there. I don't really believe her but, hey, what do I know? I'm a man."
You laugh. "See you soon, Dad."
"Seeya."
When the day comes you're... you can scarcely believe it but you're excited. Would you even venture to say 'elated'? Maybe! You're not sure and you don't really care. You don't remember feeling this excited or energetic or enthused or any other e-word about something in about three years. You're actually organised in advance for once in your life. Your suitcase is all packed and ready to go, your phone charged, your wallet in your pocket, everything in order. You've said your goodbyes to Lakshmi, such as they were - the wall is still there, but at least now you have something nice on the horizon to see when you turn away from that particular problem.
Speaking of the horizon. You look out across it as you sit on your suitcase out the front, basking in the dying light of the sun. Letting your eyes drift closed, the gentle breeze that heralds the coming night taking the edge off the heat. Pretty warm for a Winter afternoon. It'll be downright freezing in an hour or two. But you're sure you'll be safe in the car, or in the plane, by then. Dad said either he or Ms. Jenkins'd be around by about 6. You dig out your phone to check. 6:12. You consider the number, then shrug. It's fine. Three more minutes, then you'll call him. Even if he's late, you don't really care. You're willing to give him plenty of slack for this.
A police car rolls down the street. Not really much cause for alarm. They cruise through the community fairly regularly, just checking things out. You tune them out, mostly. Only take notice when you see Dad waving at them as they pass by, or the few times you saw them park so he could chat to them. It's a safe neighbourhood and they're one of the reasons it feels that way. No, you notice because it slows to a stop right outside your house. You hear the distant sound of a handbrake engaging, and two doors opening as the cops get out, but the engine keeps running. You stand, begin to slowly walk forward. One cop steps forward, eyes hidden by aviators, one hand on his hip. The other motions for you to open the gate. You do, obviously. You head to the keypad and punch in the code. There's a soft click as the electronic lock gives way, and the steel gate slides out of the way. You step out into the driveway, and the cop mirrors your motion.
"G'day," he says, hands resting on his hips. "Your sister home too?"
"Uh... yeah?" you say slowly, glancing over your shoulder. "What's this about?"
"Well, uh... wish I was here under better circumstances, mate, but it looks like things haven't really worked out that way." He adjusts his cap, his leather jacket rustling. " 'fraid there's been a bit of an incident."
"What?" Your brow furrows. "What kind of incident? Something happen with Dad?"
"Look, just so you know, neither of you are in trouble." The cop raises his hands, patting the air a little to assuage your worries. "But I'm afraid I'm gonna have to ask you and your sister to come with us down to the station. There's been a security breach and Mr. Dane's made his preference known that this is how he wants situations of this kind to be handled."
You're... you're not sure how to take this. It's a lot to process all at once, pretty much the definition of a hard one-eighty in how you expected today to go. You squint against the practically horizontal rays of the setting sun, peering at the cop's face. His mouth is smiling, but you can't see his eyes.
[ ] Agree. After all, Dad knows these guys. No time to waste fucking around because you have a funny feeling.
[ ] Say you'll go get Lakshmi. Bring her up to speed once you're inside, ask her what the Hell she thinks is going on and what you should do.
[ ] Ask the cops for ID and call Dad. Maybe you're just being paranoid, maybe not. You don't care. It'll only take a minute.
[ ] Tell them to back off and keep your finger near the button to close the gate. Something doesn't feel right. And honestly, you're in a shit mood anyway.
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Dream Logic
An offseason swallow
- Location
- In transit
Huh? I don't trust these guys at all but what can we do?
Refusal is unlikely to work but a delay might help out. Also calling it now, technocracy.
Refusal is unlikely to work but a delay might help out. Also calling it now, technocracy.
- Location
- va
[X] Ask the cops for ID and call Dad. Maybe you're just being paranoid, maybe not. You don't care. It'll only take a minute.
LupineVolt
Now with 200% more Puns
- Location
- Michigan
[X] Say you'll go get Lakshmi. Bring her up to speed once you're inside, ask her what the Hell she thinks is going on and what you should do.
C'mon mending fences through horrible incoming events. I WANT A GREAT SIBLING RELATIONSHIP DAMNIT!
C'mon mending fences through horrible incoming events. I WANT A GREAT SIBLING RELATIONSHIP DAMNIT!
Revlid
blob of bugs
- Location
- England
[X] Ask the cops for ID and call Dad. Maybe you're just being paranoid, maybe not. You don't care. It'll only take a minute.
On the one hand, we have previously shown a less-than-zero tendency toward steering clear of strangers, but on the other hand, seriously Meg.
On the one hand, we have previously shown a less-than-zero tendency toward steering clear of strangers, but on the other hand, seriously Meg.
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[X] Say you'll go get Lakshmi. Bring her up to speed once you're inside, ask her what the Hell she thinks is going on and what you should do.
Wade Garrett
Just trying to do the right thing
- Pronouns
- He/His/Him
[X] Ask the cops for ID and call Dad. Maybe you're just being paranoid, maybe not. You don't care. It'll only take a minute.
Ounce of prevention > pound of cure
Ounce of prevention > pound of cure
Omegahugger
Inattentive Idiot
[X] Say you'll go get Lakshmi. Bring her up to speed once you're inside, ask her what the Hell she thinks is going on and what you should do.
With a bit of luck they'll take her instead of us.
With a bit of luck they'll take her instead of us.
Hmmm...
[ ] Agree. After all, Dad knows these guys. No time to waste fucking around because you have a funny feeling.
Usual reaction when met by an officer of the law. Then again, we're not white. He could shoot us. Uh wait, not the US
A perfectly valid option and what we know is the right thing to do. Also BOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGG
[ ] Say you'll go get Lakshmi. Bring her up to speed once you're inside, ask her what the Hell she thinks is going on and what you should do.
The suspicious option, but still passive. I mean, we just opened the gate for him, so there's the implication we'll cooperate, but on the other hand, it means talking with our sister. Bleh.
[ ] Ask the cops for ID and call Dad. Maybe you're just being paranoid, maybe not. You don't care. It'll only take a minute.
The responsible thing to do would be to ask for an ID before we open the gate. Doing this now will just rapidly turn the situation awkward, and if they have ID's, do we even have a way to verify if they're real?
[ ] Tell them to back off and keep your finger near the button to close the gate. Something doesn't feel right. And honestly, you're in a shit mood anyway.
The paranoid option, but hey. They specificaly said we are'nt in trouble and they won't answer the question if our dad is ok. So you know what? If we are not in trouble, we don't have to actualy let them in, either, or go with them somewhere without answers.
I choose the "Officer, am I being detained" option:
[X] Tell them to back off and keep your finger near the button to close the gate. Something doesn't feel right. And honestly, you're in a shit mood anyway.
TenfoldShields
Lounging on a Hoard of Words
- Pronouns
- He/Him
It's kinda interesting tbh, we have a better relationship with the dude who, like, who's kind and nice enough to us but also doesn't have a particularly major link to us than we do with our own dad. Like this update and the update before it say that Meghanada doesn't always even talk to Rob that much. A lot of the time he's just there doing homework or hanging out or enjoying the garden.
It's low obligation and so it's low stress and, like, honestly I think a big part of it is that we just don't feel like we can meaningfully disappoint him so it takes a lot of the strain away.
Honestly we probably spend more time with Rob than we do with dad at this point. Considering how Rob's right there and dad's always at work. I wonder if Ms. Jenkins has something similar with Lakshmi?
fuckin' savage
...Heh. It's kinda neat, y'now? Dad's not really trying to be distant and shit. Part of it's just the fact that he has a high demand job and part of it's the fact that I don't think he not so much groks what our damage is as doesn't really know how to properly address it (because "I feel like you're ashamed of me" is a pretty tetchy thing to fix when you have shit going on like "one parent only shows up once a year" and "every evening spent had to be begged off work"). But he helped put this together for us and honestly it's probably one of the best things that could happen to us. Spending more time with Mom. Actually getting to go to India. Getting out of this big empty house and breaking up the rut and going to Do Stuff.
Like GO, CONNECT WITH YOUR HERITAGE is the foundations for a shitty fish our of water date movie but it is something that's preoccupied Meghanada a lot. Lakshmi's fit in really, really well. We pretty consistently haven't. And each major twist and turn in our life has sorta pulled us away.
But yeah. Choice.
I don't think Lakshmi's going to be a tremendous amount of help. She's not going to instantly back us up or anything and is more likely to go "I don't fucking know either" than anything. And just telling them to fuck off or rolling over immediately is...well the latter seems out of character and the former doesn't seem wise so there ya go.
[X] Ask the cops for ID and call Dad. Maybe you're just being paranoid, maybe not. You don't care. It'll only take a minute.
Asking for ID is mostly a time buying thing while we call dad. If there is some shit going on why hasn't he tried to reach us? And then there's the fact that he's a little late and it's all...it all seems a little off. If we can raise him he can confirm. If we can't it tells us something on its own. Either way it sorta cements that Meghanada isn't super anti-authority or anything but is willing to tell authority to hold the fuck up while he gets his shit in order.
Maybe? I mean they've got the mirrorshades. But they're talking about dad like he's a superior or, mm, more like they're his security detail honestly.
Dunno.
I mean this is oWoD (and I think we've forgotten that a little) so this is probably our first brush with the secret world and stuff. But still, since it is oWoD there's way too many possibilities about who it could be and why.
Dream Logic
An offseason swallow
- Location
- In transit
Thinking technocracy if only because vampires don't need/do police detail, wolves are terrorist, hunters are probably not, changelings just don't fit.
By process of elimination they're either normals or techies(or normals being used by techies).
Also I'm paranoid and may have to eat my shoes.
By process of elimination they're either normals or techies(or normals being used by techies).
Also I'm paranoid and may have to eat my shoes.
- Location
- Mountains and rivers
[X] Say you'll go get Lakshmi. Bring her up to speed once you're inside, ask her what the Hell she thinks is going on and what you should do.
My incredible powers of intuition are telling me Meghanada is an angry, angry kid.
I'm running on 3 hours of sleep. What's it supposed to mean?
... Maybe I shouldn't dig into wounds of one's own making.
Uh, no? Whether someone's a hypocrite or not has no bearing on how right their words are.
My incredible powers of intuition are telling me Meghanada is an angry, angry kid.
I'm running on 3 hours of sleep. What's it supposed to mean?It's outright painful to see someone make the same mistake I did.
spend
excitement
I admit; that made me laugh.
I hope you feel proud of yourself, because I sure as fuck am not happy with ruining a family for 3 years.
... Maybe I shouldn't dig into wounds of one's own making.
TenfoldShields
Lounging on a Hoard of Words
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Oh yeah I'm actually super satisfied with how this turned out tbh.