Blake hesitated at the door to her room. It was hardly a second's hesitation, but compared to the flightiness that had overcome her since returning to Menagerie she might as well have stood still for half an hour looking into the capital B hanging on the closed and foreign door. The Datura- her family's true name- had moved into this house after she disowned them for the White Fang. Despite this, they had kept a room for her to return to for the past six years. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open, which glided on its hinges. Though a thin layer of dust topped the furniture, the room wasn't a time capsule. It had been redecorated tastefully over the years; Three large bookshelves obscured an entire wall, filled with everything from children's books to Sienna Khan's Third Crusade. Framed sketches of hers also hung proudly on the walls. She fought the urge to outright tear down the charcoal likeness of Adam, before stowing it out of sight behind a dresser. She saw Sun standing in the doorway uncharacteristically quiet as she picked up a book by the title of Belladonna Lilies, whose front cover sported a pair of women eerily similar in appearance to her and Weiss. A note on the inside read "Happy 16th, Pumpkin. -Papa" and Blake flinched before setting the novel on her desk to read later, underneath a beautiful watercolour painting of a flower garden. The photorealistic style was distinctly Mistralan, and the name Bromios was hidden among the crocus.
A man no younger than fifty walked around his apartment, wrapping objects in newspaper and towels before packing them into boxes. He moved with the vigour of someone with places to be. Two solid knocks on the door announced the arrival of a very familiar face, though one that became increasingly absent in recent months. Bromios paused for a moment with a half-wrapped glass in his hand to greet the person towards who he would always be welcoming.
"Hello Adam."
"Hey." The teenager looked at the cardboard boxes that took up much of the floor. "What's going on? Are you moving?"
Bromios sighed. "I've just… had a wave of inspiration. I've been debating about moving for a while, actually." it was almost a lie.
"This isn't…"
"Sienna hasn't affected my decision, Adam."
"I wanted to let you know that I'm going out to Vale in a few days. Sienna wants someone with more field experience leading protests. We've never had too many issues, but we're expecting things to change around a little bit." Bromios kept his opinion of the new methods to himself, while the voice in the back of his head gave a small shrug when he turned to it. The glass in his hand slid into a box and he picked up another.
"If that's the case, we should certainly go out for brunch sometime; I'd love to visit Vale at some point. Unfortunately, I won't be able to see you off. I have to make sure no one's cheating me out through all the paperwork." A folder containing well over a hundred twenty pages sat on the kitchen counter. Adam glared at it.
"How are you going to afford a new place?"
Bromios raised his empty hand. "Don't worry, I have it planned out."
"But if humans get in your way…"
"I have it planned out, don't I?" The two of them were quiet for a while. Adam's hands tapped his pants in a rhythmic order, poorly convincing himself that his guardian of ten years was being wholly truthful. He eventually tried to open up the conversation again.
"Dad…" Bromios visibly flinched forwards, Nearly dropping the paints in his hands.
"I'm not your father Adam. We know this." He turned and faced him for the second time, ramlike horns curling down each side of his head. Painful memories surfaced for both of them. The lynching of the Taurus family had become international news. Even the SDC marked it as… historically accurate. "Actually Adam… you should visit their grave before you leave. Make sure they can rest well." If the bull faunus had words to say they never came out. Instead his head turned so sharply to the side he could have snapped his own neck, and he gently pushed away his guardian's comforting hand. The pair of brown boots exited the apartment door, leaving it open behind him. After a moment's hesitation Bromios leaned out the doorway and tossed an artfully made whittling knife to him, the symbol of a wilting rose engraved on the mother-of-pearl handle. Adam caught it deftly in his right hand and slipped it cautiously into his shirt pocket.
"Keep it." Bromios told him firmly. "You loved whittling as a kid. Keep at it." Adam was highly doubtful that he would. He reflected for a brief moment; the man was old and becoming complacent with the world. It was up to him and Sienna to push humans into changing.
"Thank you, Bromios." He nodded his head, closing his eyes as he did so. "I'll be sure to keep this on me." Adam turned away for the final time and walked away, his shoulders set and square as Bromios returned to his packing. On his way out he passed the mailbox marked Bromios Arc and glanced inside one last time, pleasantly surprised to find nothing addressed to him. He walked on, hoping that he wouldn't be stopped before he could stow the knife away in some safe place. Even if it were the tiniest edge, some paranoia-stricken officer would have more than enough power to confiscate his inheritance. Or, at least, the physical part of it.