Spit out the Bone (M)

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Two weeks later

Gradually, the void of black warped into something vaguely familiar.

Shadows danced along the cracked plaster walls of a bedroom as candles burned in oil lanterns over the doorway. The pungent smell of cool, rising damp wafted into the Telgradian’s nose, stirring his senses in a way he would have preferred to not have experienced. As he slowly opened his eyes and adjusted his focus, Telos could see that the sudden presence he had sensed that had jarred him from his slumber belonged to a face he knew all too well. Framed by hair the colour of oak, a man peered at him from over the other side of the room. His chair blocked his view of the door.

"Shinsou?"

How many days had passed since he had wiped his memory out, the Telgradian wondered? As Telos sat up, only the irises of his son in his room stood out on first glance. Across Shinsou's lap lay Enpera, his sword, and he gripped it just a little tighter as his father's eyes steered towards it. The Telgradian briefly sat up before glancing towards the window and began to take in the reality of today; a freezing cold, snowy dawn. Sleet began pelting the glass, and suddenly the view of the looming expanse through the flawed transparency was distorted by thick streaks of white.

"Surprised to see me?" Shinsou asked sarcastically.

Telos stared icily through the window, thinking upon the significance of everything. How did Shinsou recover his memories? Why was he here? It wouldn't be for anything friendly, judging by the atmosphere and and the way his son kept his weapon close and his grip on it tense. He could feel the weight of his queries inside him, tearing at his hazy mind.

“Am I your prisoner?”

The question crumbled from his mind as his eyes fell upon a second bed. Upon it, well within his reach, were assorted pieces of his inventory. Included were his sword, which lay atop his folded drakescale coat that Shinsou seemed to have returned. It occurred to him quickly that if he were a prisoner here, wherever here was, his son wasn’t doing a very good job of securing him. This led Telas to believe something else entirely was happening to him. Surely, no-one was stupid enough to capture someone and leave their weapons out on the bed next to them.

"You know me much better than that." Shinsou's retort was weighted with a cold, matter-of-fact undertone that left very little room for doubt. "But here is the thing; I'm not quite sure if I understand you. I know you tried to wipe my memory, again, but you either didn't do a good job of it or you purposely botched it up. I don't believe for a moment that a man as powerful and as experienced as you could fuck that up unintentionally. So, what gives?"

Unhindered, and unchallenged by his keeper, Telas rose from the bed. He hobbled slightly to the window he had been looking out of before, rolling his tongue over his teeth and clicking it in bemusement as his golden eyes fell upon the nameless whitescape.

"A man named Crennick Wilfhelm of your Brotherhood tried to give the Council of Five your location, and I decided to act before any of the other Telgradian hunting parties found you."

"Director Wilfhelm?" Shinsou scowled at the implied treachery from his own people. Crennick had always been keen to get shot of the current leadership, and Shinsou could only assume that once he had found out about the Telgradians hunting him, the backstabbing little shit had taken the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. After a moment, he turned back to Telos. "I'll deal with him soon enough, but, regardless, you didn't answer my question."

"Yes, I did." Telas's voice raised a decibel.

The wooden chair creaked beneath his mass as Shinsou leaned forward, his coat draping over the sword still balanced across his legs. The room was only dimly lit, considering the few candles, and the raging storm that blocked any moon or stars that might be present. As such, it was difficult to make out his father's expression as he stood at the window. What he was able to see resembled mild curiosity, and what might even be amusement, both of which was a surprise to him. In a similar situation, any other person would be all sharp lines and frayed nerves.

"So, are you saying that you did this to protect me, or were you working for Crennick all along?" came Shinsou's abrupt question. Truthfully, he knew the answer already - Telos was a father before he was a member of the Telgradian Council of Five, and there was no way he would have worked with a foreigner to hand his son over unless it served him some good purpose. However, until he knew more about what was going on, Shinsou would remain on his guard.

"I found an opportunity to redeem you through death, and so no-one from either Telgradia or the Brotherhood will be hunting you anymore now. You can use that time to plan what you are going to do next."

He felt the Shinsou's gaze sweep over him, and when he spoke, Shinsou did not bother to mask his skepticism. "You don't know the Brotherhood like I do. They will figure the truth out in a couple more days. Why? Because I was the one who trained most of their snouts. If they are worth their salt, and they are, we can expect a knock on the door any time soon. I don't know about you, but I'd rather make the first move than be caught with my pants down. What are you going to do now?"

There was no answer offered for the final question, as Telos was not entirely sure what to do himself. Instead, he nodded. "I never met this Crennick personally. His right hand man, Tyrin, was the one who met me. All I know is that he is staying in a safehouse in Radasanth. If you want to get to the root of your betrayal, he'd be the best start. But Shinsou, I implore you; don't do anything stupid. Never go back to Telgradia. You're dead; use that to your advantage."

The Salvic air carried its characteristic bitterness to the tavern, biting at the dancing flames of the candles that illuminated the cramped lodgings. It wasn’t any warmer in the shade where Shinsou stood on the creaking boards, yet the Telgradian did not shiver nor fidget to stave off the chill; an advantage of being immune to harsh conditions. Instead, he strode to the door, and stopped to turn the handle.

"There will be plenty more joining me come the end of the week. You can count on that."