"Well, well, where to begin? Your father was a young thing at a time, full of brim and vigor, as well as... let's say, an insatiable wrath. I could tell that he was rather gifted in the summoning arts -- on the level of some lesser witches, I'd say -- but as you know, none of that talent was his.
"He had approached me withe a haughty arrogance and began to explain himself in a tone that I had never fathomed a human to be able to speak to me in. He ha been... searching for me," a painstaking look crossed the scarred face; she was trying to approach the subject without revealing her own feelings. "He had read of a witch long before either of our times, in some long-forgotten tome. A witch who had sacrificed her soul to pierce the very fabric of reality and allow her daughters to be the very first to draw beings from an altogether new plane of existence, as you know it to be: R'lyeh. I, and therefore you as well, are descended from one such daughter.
"He wished me to bear a child, hypothesizing that a witch born with the pedigrees of two renowned summoner lineages, with the added power of the demon already bound to him, would be omnipotent with her powers; a new god under our tutelage. He was wrong, if you are anything to go by, but your potential is that of some of the greatest Witch Mothers in our history.
"We had gotten to know each other a great deal over the months of trying for conception and the resultant pregnancy. He defended the cottage we called home, and was well-spoken despite his initial abrasive behavior. He had also told me of home. Of his back-stabbing family's ways, and of his even pettier little brother; spiteful of his success. He told me that his mother had been the one to summon and bind that soul-using creature to him -- as was a common ability and occurrence in their household -- in order to grant him any magic at all, as well as to avoid scandal. It was preposterous for me to fathom, but the way in which he spoke, and the anger I could feel that was coming from his very depths...
"The unfortunate thing was that your birth showed me the man that he truly was without the demon's influence. He was meek, apathetic to most matters, and simply pathetic; I had learned that I was more in love with the demon than I was with him. And, as I have said, it was because you were born. What I have long since deduced was that his lack of pride and caring in anything he did was the source of the demon's power over him; your existence was his pride and joy, detracting from that. It was only a few years after you were born and a few months before you were taken that he became deranged and began accusing me of your abuse; of injuries that were severe, yet I had no hand in. At first, I had taken notice like a cat does a fly, but closer to the time of your abduction... I began to suspect that it was his- or rather the being still tied to him's doing.
"The next thing I knew was that I was waking up to a cold spot next to me, and your crib empty; you having been spirited by that father of yours without my knowing." What followed next was a long pause of silence. Riley simply stared into her drink, taking the occasional gulp, while Cygna did the same to her. Eventually, this broke into a Q&A. Riley asking her questions such as: "When did you cast magic on him then? You said you did it only once..." To receive answers such as: "To bind your father's demon to you... upon his eventual death, but without the side-effects he had experienced; you are your own person." But the only way to receive those were for her to answer some of Cygna's own questions -- questions she already knew the answers to -- about her daughters life up until now. For once, Riley actually felt as if she had a mother- had always had this caring maternal figure in her life. The hours they had spent together could actually be considered... fun. And toward the end, in the evening, at the thought of having to leave her mother, Riley broke down in a sobbing drunken mess that was crying and wiping her snot all over her mother's shoulder.
"Shh, shh," her mother hushed "You've had too much to drink in the time we've spent together; just sleep now. Sleep." Eventually, the disgusting noises her daughter was making lulled into the peaceful slumber, that of a small child cradled in the nook of their parent's arms. The mother simply chuckled at her offspring's behavior. "Barkeep," she eventually called, "I'll take the room on the right. And to the rest of you hooligans," she turned to the rest of the room, "I'll pay you all handsomely to... evict whoever it is that occupies that room now." Another chuckle left her lips.
~~~
A gruff "hmph" came from Horace at the sight of Fion at his doorstep. The boy, while he figured him to be the best way to ensure a good life for his niece and adopted daughter, was at the very moment a nuisance. One that had to either be gotten rid of or... utilized. "Riley and I had-" he stopped, only briefly aware that he was about to tell the truth. The best way to get the boy to follow was to tell a truth, he devised, but how much of it to tell, and with how much of it... creatively added, was the real question for the man. "Riley ran off after us disagreeing... about you, specifically."
Fion raised an eyebrow at Horace's statement, shifting around within his cloak. Riley and her uncle arguing about him? That was...strange. He couldn't particularly imagine that he'd be a topic to argue over, unless her uncle had forbade her to take Bureau jobs again or something similar. Well, if they were going to bring him into their argument, he might as well get involved in it. "Wonderful. Not that I'm particularly interested in your familial drama, considering I've got enough of my own, but I suppose I might as well come along if you're running off to find her. Any idea where she went?"
"Ha," he chuckled as he was glad the boy had decided to come along; a smirk apparent. "No need to know where she's going; she had that bear of her's trailing behind the entire time; we just need to find which gate she left from and then follow the tracks. It shouldn't be hard. But first-" He disappeared back inside his small house, leaving Fion at the doorstep. The crashing of wood could be heard from where the boy stood, and by the time Horace had returned, a talentium axe -- the head of which being larger than both of theirs combined -- rested on his shoulders which was held by only his left hand. "Now, if there aren't any questions, let us be off," he said before pushing past the boy far ahead onto the streets.
Fion followed after Horace, impressed by the strength that it took for the man to hold that axe with but a single hand. "Lead the way. Shouldn't be hard to ask people if they saw a little boy with a bear come passing by."
"My sentiments exactly. However-" he gave Fion a sideways glance, "I'd cut the names, kid; unless that is you think you could go toe-to-toe with a veteran of the Talentless Strife." They had already reached the western gate. "Guard," the gruff man ha called out, "Have you seen a girl followed by a large bear at all?" The man in uniform thought for a moment before giving the pair a shrug of the shoulders. "No girl, but there was a little boy who matched your description not more than an-" He didn't have time to finish as Horace was already rushing past him. "Well then, if we hurry, we still may be able to catch her."
"Oh, look at that. Even the guard agreed with me." Fion deadpanned as he ran alongside Horace, smirking. They followed after the bear tracks on the ground, which seemed to just be a few hours old. Still, after a few minutes of running, Fion grew impatient. With magic, he could move far faster than Horace could, and there was really no point in staying alongside the man any longer. "I'm going on ahead." Fion said as an aura of wind blazed into existence around him. "Catch up with me later." And with that, he dashed on ahead, charging off faster than he thought Horace could follow.
"Quit fooling boy," Horace responded calmly as he seemingly popped into existence in front of the boy, barring any further progress with the handle of the axe. "I have reason to believe that... Riley has been consorting with that mother of hers, as of late, so running off on your own isn't exactly the greatest of ideas. Not to mention going at such speeds will make tracking impossible."
"What." Fion stopped in his tracks, looking rather irritated. "And you didn't mention this at first, why? I thought she just had some kind of tantrum about something. If you'd mentioned her mother first, I might've been more inclined to listen to you, you know." He sighed, resting one hand on his hip. "Fine, we'll do this your way. Next time, at least tell me if it's actually serious."
"Huh, and here Richard had implied that you had learned your manners when you were younger," Horace snarked in response; trying to turn his attention away from the reasons as to why he had concealed the other witch's involvement. "Generally, it goes without saying that the older, more experienced ones take the lead; I figured you knew that, but now that I'm remembering, you were kicked out of that military academy." He smirked; insulting the boy, no matter how much it might have fazed him, gave the veteran no small amount of pleasure. "Now, let's continue on before Riley does anything she may regret..."
Fion shrugged, letting the insult pass. "I graduated from the Academy of War two years early. Got kicked out of the actual military itself. Taking orders isn't really my thing, but fine. Lead the way. Not like Riley's known for making rational decisions anyway." He started following after Horace again, while silently wondering how the man knew Richard. The old manservant had been a notable fighter in the service of the Seyour family in decades past, so perhaps that had something to do with it. Regardless, he'd simply ask later. Right now, they still had to find that idiot before she did something stupid again.
Horace simply eyed the boy with his response. So he doesn't really know... However, that was something for another day. "Of course she's not; she is a woman after all," he commented before finally shutting up.
~
The tracks eventually stopped at what could only be called an over-sized metal grate over an equally-sized hole all dug into the side of a hill. Over this grand entrance-way was a simple sign, announcing the fact to any wayward traveler that happened to find the place that it was called "the Burrow". "Seems to be the place." Horace remarked casually as he approached the door.
"Oh for the love of-this damn hole?" Fion facepalmed. "Of course Riley comes to the most run-down little town in Dansila. Let's just go and find Riley already. Too many people have tried to stab me in this place for me to want to stay that long." He sighed, recalling past jobs he'd taken as a mercenary. For some reason, criminals always tried to run to the Burrow, and the place was a nightmare for anyone trying to fight alone in the underground caverns.
Horace cocked a brow with Fion's response, as he pried the grate open. It was surprising to him at first that the boy knew of such a filth-ridden little place -- he himself only knew of it from the Bureau's own files, and that he had driven Riley away from this place at almost all costs -- but it made sense that this boy who had been living as a mercenary had found this place; most of them do, in the end. "So, would you prefer I do the asking around, or would you like the honors? You may know more people here than I do."
Fion nodded, taking the lead. "Fine. I know a few people here. Going to cost me a bit of coin, though." And so he lead Horace through the underground town, knocking on several doors and handing money over to the people inside before asking about a little boy. Not many had seen Riley, but one informant finally pointed Fion and Horace in the direction of the tavern, to which Fion sighed. He should've just started there in the first place. After all, it wasn't as if this hole had any other attractions.
A few minutes later, the two entered the tavern, and Fion made straight for the bartender, putting some coins down on the bar counter. "You seen a little boy come by? Short, brown hair, carrying a polearm around?" He asked bluntly.
The bartender started to reach for the coins, but realized something and pushed the money back towards Fion. "Sorry, I don't give out information on customers."
Fion raised an eyebrow while pocketing his money. Strange. He'd asked this tavern keep for information on targets he'd gone after in the past, and the man had always delivered, even if they had been paying him for a room. Then again, Riley's mother was quite the powerful witch. It was more than likely that she'd convinced the man to keep quiet, whether it be through magic or sheer intimidation. Walking away from the bar counter, he turned to Horace. "Search the rooms. He's holding out on us."
"Aye, captain." Despite the joke, Horace believed the boy held the authority to be in an actual position of command in the military -- possibly with his own squad -- were it not for his already spotty past with such types.
He began kicking in the first door, despite any and all protests from the bartender as well as the unwelcoming glares of the other patrons. There was nothing to it, however, as the room was filled with but a single, unfamiliar man. "Well, let's check the next one..." And so he did. But when the bottom of his boot hit the wood, and the frame gave way-
~~~
Riley awoke with a start, and a pounding head, to the consoling touch of the witch, who sat in a bed-side chair. "So," she began with a start, "How was that for a signal, my dear?" She laughed, before turning her expression dour. "Now, be quick, some pests can be heard outside, and it'll be a nice exercise for your new powers."
A coy smile.
And, in the room next door, the man mumbled happily in his sleep, even as his door was splintered an unhinged with a resounding crash. "Mom."
