Subtle twitching of the muscles was visible as the man found himself in a peaceful sleep to a nightmare. A bad memory of him and his father. Something that he had no remembered in a while surfacing in his unconscious state. It caused his breathing to change even if he stayed asleep. The sleep that he was experiencing was becoming more uncomfortable by the second.
“I want to be apart of a happier family…”
“A happier family?” A disgusted tone came from the aging Cyrus Emberani the 4th.
Little Sunni nodded his head while his big amber eyes looked worried with his father’s tone but even at the age of eleven, he was showing rebelliousness, “Like mama Daisy’s family. They are happy.”
“Misses Puckett and her family are dirt poor, Cyrus,” The head of the Emberani household said such words with such convincing repulsion that anyone could be convinced that money was the only form of happiness.
The young boy stood there in his father’s office as if he were on a platform getting judged by a court. A nervous tick was beginning to form as he held onto his non-dominant wrist so tightly and began to scratch at it with his nails, “I.. I…” Sunni began stuttering under the intensity of his father’s eyes. “I just…” The young boy couldn’t get his words out in time.
With a belligerent tone, Cyrus spat out, “Can you not fucking speak right? Spit it out, boy,” The emphasis on the boy sounded as if it was poison on his father’s tongue. A curse word.
Sunni flinched at the sudden behavior difference from his father, he knew that anger and wrath were brewing in the man, and tears began to form in his eyes. His lips parted to say something but nothing came out as he fell silent. “And you will stop referring to Misses Puckett as mother or mama. It is quite pathetic how you hold onto a woman that isn’t even family. Betraying your mother like that.”
This caused the young boy’s brows to furrow, “Mother is dead!” He shouted at his father, beginning to mirror the same anger as the older man. “And I can speak properly! I can speak better than you can! At least I can talk about my emotions unlike you! You use mother against me even though I never met her. I only know her through paintings and stories. She’s not my mother! Naomi Emberani was NEVER my mother!” Sunni didn’t mean to explode in such a way but his father brought the worst out of him.
The room fell eerily quiet while his amber eyes locked onto his father’s amber ones. His father began to move around the desk and Sunni took steps back. With each step that was approaching him, he distanced it with at least one step of his own, and he knew he messed up. Telling his father that Naomi was not his mother. It was true. She might have been his biological mother but the only mother Sunni truly knew was Daisy Puckett. However, facts didn’t matter to Cyrus Emberani when he felt like his son was betraying the household.
A strong grip yanked on the boy’s curly red hair causing him to fall to his knees, “Let go!” Tears began to streak down his face as he grabbed onto his father’s wrist to lessen the pain. Cyrus’s eyes showed that he was not absorbing anything from his son, his cries were useless, tears meaningless, and the pain that he would cause the boy would only be seen as a learning curve to the older man. Sunni Emberani would have left his father’s office that day with welts, bruises, and small breaks in his skin from a leather belt and its buckle.
A gasping realization of coming to consciousness, Sunni groaned, as his hands were pressing up against his face. His heart was beating quicker than he would like upon waking and he felt like he got no sleep at all. “What time is it?” He mumbled to himself as his hands fell away while he looked around the room. His body twitched and ached from that dream since he could remember the pain of that memory.
Slowly sitting up and looking around, the man gave himself a few minutes until a sigh was let out. Getting to his feet without knocking anything over, Sunni quickly stripped his clothes and put on a whole new outfit. The fresh undergarments against his skin felt soothing while the clean clothes over them felt refreshing. Combining his hand through his hair for a moment, he looked down at himself and determined if everything looked fine. A faded blue shirt with puffy sleeves and a loose neck that showed a bit of his chest. His pants were a brownish-gray color that was also faded. Worn clothes. Putting his leather vest on which had a nice amount of useful accessories along with pockets and his belt that had a few things attached to it as well.
The man moved over to the door and put on his boots before looking at the small clock that was near it, “Dammit. I passed out for too long… Sya probably needs help. I need to get back to building that house with the boys,” Sunni tried to be quicker with his second boot though his speediness caused him to fall over — a tumbling crash of multiple things and something breaking? The man was in a semi-awkward position on his back, wedged up against something, with the coat stand fallen over him, and a picture off the wall. A hand went over his eyes as he thought about what he just did, “You idiot…,” He began to laugh at himself.
Sunni decided to get himself out of the situation and clean everything up. The small porcelain trinket he had somewhere by the door got knocked down and shattered. Picking up all the pieces carefully, he made his way over to his desk and placed everything neatly on the piece of furniture. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to fix you later when I have time,” He whispered to the little shattered figurine before leaving the room. Closing his door behind him, he made his way down, and he came upon a disaster.
His face looked shocked — where is Syraeia!? — and why did half the patrons look so unhappy? What was happening!? The man was not focusing on any faces in the tavern in particular but he quickly moved around the tables and people. A few patrons commented about not getting anything for the last however long while others were unbothered and didn’t even notice they hadn’t been served in quite some time. Everyone was being apologized to and orders were being brought out quickly.
That was until he got to a table with familiar faces, Jonathan and Joseph, “What is this?” Sunni sounded shocked while he looked at their table. “Have you two been drinking?” His voice raised slightly while his fingers and thumb began to rub at his brow and forehead. “Nevermind. Don’t answer that. You two enjoy the rest of your day off,” The filtering through emotions was somewhat intense as the boys had wide eyes as if they realized they messed up. Jonathan began to stutter. Joseph tried to explain. Sunni waved them off, “It’s fine. You two are fine. You don’t need to explain or apologize or anything,” Those words were clearly for reassurance though the boys didn’t look reassured at all.
Waving them off, he shook his head and walked off to the other tables. He noticed the royal guards from Lunaris and he approached them before he realized that they needed refills on their drinks and so on. Going up to the bar, he looked at the written notes and glanced at the guards as he spoke quietly to himself. Going around the bar and in the back, Sunni was able to pick up four pints of ale in one hand since they had handles along with the food tray in the other.
Moving around the place easily and quickly, he smiled at the royal guards, “I’m sorry if you have been waiting a long time for refills. Distractions happen here in Dawnhaven though we welcome you with the best hospitality that we can,” Placing the drinks down and the food. He made sure they were neatly placed in front of everyone and the platter was in the middle. “Enjoy. If you need anything or have any comments or concerns, you can come ask me,” Sunni smiled at them before moving away.
Going around and making sure a few of the last patrons had hot stew, drinks, and so on. By the time he got behind the counter, he was combing his hair with his hands in a stressful manner. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. “Where is Syraeia?” He whispered to himself.
As he opened his eyes, he looked around the inn and was happy that everyone seemed to get their requested items. Leaning up against the wall and crossing his arms, he was determining if he wanted to drink or not, though it was only noon-ish. He couldn’t feed into the temptation of relaxing at the moment even if he wanted to do so, so badly. Sunni covered his mouth with his one hand as he observed everyone in the inn, being quiet, and just waiting for social cues to tell him where he should go or who he should help.
That was when he noticed he missed one person in the corner and he stared at her — Elara… Why couldn’t Syraeia be here to do her job? Where was she?
An anxiety-ridden breath could be heard shakingly inhaling and exhaling behind his hand as he went into the back of the kitchen. He didn’t know what to do but he washed his hands out of something to ground him and his thoughts. Wiping them off on a towel and rubbing at his temples, “I… Shite… why does she have to be here… right now..” The man murmured to himself before opening his eyes. A huff of breath out and he came out of the back, went around to a few tables, and talked for roughly a moment. Everyone was happy with their current state.
Sunni walked up to the table where the woman who looked like a moon-touched goddess sat. “Welcome to the eye of the beholder, do you need help with anything? We have a decent amount of drink items and food at the moment,” He had said those lines way more confidently to others only moments ago along with being more of a salesman. The light underlying shake in his tone could show that he was nervous and he didn’t want to interact with the woman though he didn’t want her to be disappointed with the experience at the inn with the lack of structure that was happening. "My name is Sunni by the way," He smiled slightly goofy as he was trying to hide the storm of conflict inside of him. One hand was placed on his waist to the hip area while the other found itself in his pocket. The man was trying to not look uncomfortable by crossing his arms in front of his chest.
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