The long green hair is throwing me off. I didn't realize I'd ended up in an anime-style world. I half expect to see pointy ears, but the heritage tag said human, so that's probably out... probably. The bloodline tag read Dryad at 'Mid,' so maybe his bloodline affects his body more than people at 'Minor,' like Archie.
I should double-check mine.
[NAME: JEIMS ARCHER
[HERITAGE: PRIMORDIAL HUMAN
[BLOODLINE: ALLS FAIR RANK EX PEAK
[SORTIS: LOCKED
Yeah, I should have guessed. Multiple godly blessings should probably result in this. If I remember correctly, EX in the system actually correlates to the Celestial tier, number ten out of the twelve tiers. Primordial Human is only one tier up from High Human placing it at the fifth tier. So, basically, they averaged me out at the seventh tier, the Mythical tier. Is this math or just coincidence? I don't know. Do I care? At this point, no, but I may in the future.
Rowan, or dad, I guess, is a good-looking man, leaning more towards pretty than handsome, really. It's one of the reasons I was expecting the pointy ears. He has a fae-like bone structure that I assume is the result of his bloodline. He sits taller in the saddle than Reegan, making me think he was a tall man, though not as tall as Uncle Archie.
Speaking of Archie, the man was practically chomping at the bit. His poor horse was probably suffering an anxiety attack with all the nervous energy floating around. This was mirrored by Aunt Lucy, who looked like she was about to vibrate out of phase. This atmosphere breaks when the horses reach within fifty feet of us, and Aunt Lucy starts running towards Archie with an excited grin plastered on her face. I guess she really does love the big guy.
Archie's response was a giant shit-eating grin and to jump off his horse, dropping his halberd in the process, and run towards his diminutive wife with arms wide open. It looked like an ogre charging at a half-step loli with ill intentions. I say half-step loli because Aunt Lucy doesn't really have the feeling of a loli; she's just a bit short. I don't know, is there such a thing as a bondage loli?
Archie reaches down and scoops Lucy up into the air, spinning her around before pulling her into a ridiculous embrace. Now, she looks like a loli. It's actually kind of a sweet scene. Uncle Archie keeps walking forward despite being in a lip-lock with Aunt Lucy. Eventually, the rest of the procession arrives and dismount. Archie's aide retrieves his halberd and horse. After getting directions from Rowan and one of the manor's servants, the group, minus Reegan, Archie, and Rowan, follow the servant around towards the stables.
Reegan steps forward, and I'm not sure if it's arrogance or indifference, but he's just so stiff that I have a growing urge to flick him in the ear, just so he shows some sort of emotion. He's not a bad-looking guy, a little short maybe, definitely shorter than my mother and maybe only an inch taller than Amanda. His worst feature is that he looks like he either smells something off-putting or that everything is tedious. Maybe both.
Amanda steps forward and drops a dainty curtsy. "Husband."
Reegan barely acknowledges her presence with a nod and then looks over to grandfather. I can see the difference now. Grandfather is stiff and a little dispassionate, but he is not indifferent. He still has affection for grandma Estelle. Reegan is completely indifferent. He has no interest in her at all other than maintaining appearances, and the worst part is that Amanda knows this.
"Father," Uncle Reegan says. "I'd like to talk to you in your study about a potentially lucrative venture out of Ru'Ahn. I think it would be a good opportunity and would help our family to grow."
Grandfather nods, though I'm certain I saw his eyes roll slightly. "Yes, of course, son. Why don't we hold that until everyone has settled in, and after lunch, we can discuss the idea over a brandy."
It is such a stark contrast. On the one side, you have this nigh robotic stick in the mud talking business immediately upon arrival after who knows how long. Barely a nod to his wife. On the other side, you have a physically mismatched couple that is rubbing noses and whispering sweet nothings back and forth, barely keeping enough decorum to not fuck right here in front of everyone.
And stuck in the middle is poor Amanda, who feels no love and probably feels like a stranger in her own house. Fuck that. It's not exactly what this ability is made for, but I extend my senses through my Lust Intent and poor my feelings through it to try to reach Amanda. I'm not going for sexual feeling, though, so I'm not sure how effective it will be.
I lock my eyes on her petite figure and envision hands press to her back and run them up to her shoulders. She twitches, a little shocked that she feels something. She looks around to see where it is coming from and sees me watching her. I run the Intent down her arms and change it from hands to arms—the arms wrap around her, applying pressure. Our eyes are locked, and I pour as much care and affection as I can through the link. A tear forms in her eye, but before it falls, she catches it and wipes it away before she turns back to the front.
Mom starts to move, and I drop the Intent. Amanda felt it; I just hope what she felt was what I was trying to convey. I turn my head and see Rowan moving as well. I guess it's time for the first meeting.
"Jeims, this is Rowan. Your father. Rowan, this is Jeims. You son," Amelia says with a gentle smile. It's cheesy, but I do all the expected tropes to keep everyone happy. Yeah, yeah, goo-goo ga-ga and all that nonsense. Smile, I'm the center of attention. Well, of their attention anyway.
Lucy and Archie are in their own little world, and the only reason they haven't stripped each other naked is that there are observers present. Amanda is trying not to look at me, grandpa and Uncle Reegan are still discussing the trip and opportunities, and Estelle was slowly getting annoyed that we're all standing outside when there is a perfectly good manor we could be doing all this in.
She's already dispatched the servants to their posts and ordered lunch prepared. I can see her patience waning rapidly. I end my baby show and reach over to Cindy, who is standing by. Maybe I can move this show on if I fuss for my lunch.
"Oh, it must be lunchtime," Amelia says, handing me off to Cindy.
"Yes. I think it is," Estelle says, pointedly and taking Amanda's arm, turns towards the manor. "Why don't we all go in instead of standing out here like a bunch of vagrants."
.
.
.
Lunch was tasty as always, my compliments to the breast. The after-lunch entertainment was less interesting as my father desperately tried to get me to say 'dada' for like twenty minutes.
"Rowan, he's only six months old. Most babies can't even start to comprehend that different sounds mean different things until nine months," Amelia says. Normally true, but I cheat, mom.
I look my father right in the eye just after his last "Say dada," and say, "Mama."
Perhaps dropping that bomb was more than my parents could take, but they absolutely lost their shit.
"Did he just..."
"He did!"
"Can you say it again? Say mama again."
"Or dada. Can you say dada?"
"Come on, say, mama. Say, mama."
"Dada. Dada. Dada."
The whole while, Cindy just stood there in relative shock. I reach out my arms and say, "Cindy."
That broke them. They both go silent as their gears grind to a complete halt and smoke metaphorically pours out their ears. Cindy smiles radiantly and picks me up. "Aren't you a sweet boy," she says. Nope, I'm not, but I'm now going to take a nap on her soft pillow-like breasts—sweet dreams to me.
.
.
.
The night started a little less pleasant as Amelia and Rowan hadn't seen each other in more than a year. Obviously, keeping their hands off each other was not in the cards, and my poor ears were one room over. Fortunately, my guardian angel Cindy came at exactly the right moment.
"Why don't you sleep in my room tonight, Jeims. Let's give your parents a night to themselves," she says. I just cooed in response. I ended up sleeping in Molly's crib that night, and instead of listening to my parents bump uglies, I fell asleep to the dulcet tones of Cindy rubbing one out. I'd offer to help, but she seems to want to do it herself.
The next morning Cindy seems a bit melancholy and lonely. Seeing the happy couples probably reminded her that she's romantically alone. Well, if she ever needs a lover in the future, I volunteer as tribute.
On that topic, as we enter the practice yard, I see Amanda watching my parents spar. Rowan is rocking an impressive bow and using some type of plant magic to supplement his fighting style. Mom, of course, is using a sword. Thick roots rise up and slash at her as Rowan launches an arrow. Amelia spins the blade slicing the arrow in half while jumping backward. Sword lights arc through the air mowing down roots like grass.
Three more arrows whistle through the air while a sneaky little vine wraps around Amelia's ankle. Spinning, Amelia slices through the vine with a backhand while performing improbable acrobatics to catch one of the arrows evading the rest, only to continue the spin and return the arrow back towards Rowan, much to his surprise.
"When did you learn to do that?" he asks, touching his cheek where the arrow knicked him.
"While you were away galavanting with Archie," she replies while trying to maneuver through the gauntlet of vines and roots, launching sword lights to cut paths through the obstructions.
"And here I thought you were lazing around while I was out winning honor and prestige."
"Oh, please, as though mother would allow that. I've probably had more life and death fights in the past three months than you have in the past two years."
"That's because I've gotten smarter. I don't let my battles get to life or death anymore," Rowan says, a green glow emanating from his eyes. Thick bushes erupt from the ground throughout the practice yard. Only our elevated position allows us to have any sort of view of the combat below.
Suddenly, Rowan appears behind Amelia, a full fifty feet away from his previous position with his bow drawn and an arrow nocked in place.
"You lo-" Rowan attempts to say that she loses, but the sword resting against his carotid artery cuts him short. Almost literally.
"Predictable," Amelia says. "You've definitely lost a step. Fighting normal soldiers is not good for your progress. This is why you should visit more often."
"It's only for four more years," he says as the bushes, vines, and roots recede into the ground.
"If I went with you, we could shorten that," she replies in a sing-song voice.
"And leave Jeims with your mother? Does that sound like a good idea?" he says as he walks towards where we're seated. "I doubt Jeims would be happy about that."
"Hmm. You have a point. Mom would probably have him slaughtering feral goblins by his first birthday. Still, it's not fair. You're going to be missing most of Jeims' firsts."
"Haha. Yeah, just try to get him to say 'dada' by the next time I visit."
Huh, I forget that people are all into these so-called milestones—first words, first step, first tooth, etc. Well, I already gave them my 'first' word, I can probably roll out a few more in the week he's here. Walking isn't a problem; I've been doing that for a while now. Teeth... I suppose I can experimenting with biokinesis to push one through.
I forgot that parents get excited about their kid's accomplishments; I never wanted them myself. Even though I was always pretty good with them. Babies and animals always liked me. I had a 'calming energy' that made them feel safe and comfortable. At least that's what some of my more witchy friends always said. As I'm thinking of this, I notice Amanda stealing glances at me. I wonder just how messed up she is from her time with Reegan. Maybe she feels safe and comfortable with me. It's a start.
I reach out towards her and babble like I want to be picked up. I'm pretty good at this whole baby talk thing. It's a combination of nonsense sounds, drunk slur, and articulate gesticulation. When it comes together right, the meaning is clear.