Night's Children: De Rerum Natura
Part Three: Ethos
The shot glass slammed down on the table, and he felt anger course within him when he discovered its effect was only a slight blurriness in his vision. He cursed the Atrox under his breath, not for the first time, because it wouldn't even let him get drunk properly. He lifted a finger into the air, the silent signal for more, and the bartender placed another shot of bourbon down on the counter. Zahi tossed his head back and downed it effortlessly, and another finger shot up.
After about the sixth one, the bartender began to look at Zahi with concern, but one stare into his fiercely burning eyes told the bartender to mind his own business as he returned to cleaning out glasses.
Another. And another. Still no achingly sweet stupor assaulted him, and he realized he was beginning to run up quite a tab. He placed his elbows on the countertop and breathed in slowly. His head was spinning and he couldn't even blame it on the alcohol.
A bitter taste found its way into his mouth as he remembered the conversation with Art back at the apartment a little over an hour ago. On the one side, he was irritated with the kid's naivety, and annoyed at his pitiful assumptions. On the other, he felt remorse flow through him because he realized what he was doing. He had failed Trysten, and now he was pushing Art away in his misery. Fingers clenched around the empty shot glass. He couldn't grieve, it wasn't his place. Zahi had been dealt with more than his share of misery over the years, and he wasn't about to jump back in.
Why couldn't Art just follow his lead?
He tossed back another shot, stupid kid.
A stupid kid with stupid regrets.
He wasn't even sure which kid he was thinking about. Art and Trysten had melded in his mind, and he felt like he could hold Art accountable for Trysten's shortcomings.
Even as he thought it, he knew he was just avoiding blaming himself.
Art. Trysten. Both children, children he had promised to protect. The bitter taste acquired intensity as his mind subconsciously drifted back to a pair of beautiful emerald green eyes and a breathtaking smile. Eyes and a smile that, once upon a time, he had fallen in love with. He exhaled, he had failed them both, Stanton and Serena. While he could honestly give a rat's ass about Stanton, old grudges tended to die hard with him, the mere prospect of disappointing the almost ethereal Witch Goddess made him want to lie down and forget forever. Inwardly, he thanked whatever god was listening that Trysten, for the most part, followed his father in terms of appearance, and Zahi didn't have to face the damning viridian of those eyes each and every day.
A sour smile spread across his features, not one of joy or even sick amusement. It was the type of smile that a man made when he severed all attachments from everything. He called for another bourbon, and raised his shot glass in the air, "Pour vous, ma belle." He muttered, the swirled the amber liquid for a moment, "Et vous, mes freres." He added as an afterthought before he slammed it back. This time, the drink gave him a burning sensation as it wormed its way down his throat and he exhaled sharply from his nostrils.
"Isn't it bad luck to toast to the dead?" Came a low voice from the side of him.
Zahi let out a snort of disbelief, he hadn't even heard the…stranger approach, "I enjoy taking chances," He muttered, ordering another bourbon.
"I can see that," Came the stranger.
Silence reigned as Zahi once again attempted to douse himself in copious amounts of alcohol, until the words came out of his mouth before he realized he was thinking them, "And to what do I owe your glorious company?" The question was a far more scathing tone than he had ever used before.
"To what do I owe your hostility?" Was the smooth reply.
"You're not him anymore, you won't fool me." Zahi responded, still facing forward.
"I'm just the same as I was a week ago, Lance." The sound of a stool being pulled out echoed, as the stranger with the all too familiar voice sat down beside him, "Just more aware."
Zahi snorted and began to trail his fingers up and down the glass. He knew why he of all people would be here, for him. And he wasn't exactly looking forward to the next confrontation, "Art?" He asked.
"I'll be visiting him next."
He sighed and leaned back slightly, "You never answered my question." He looked at him, straight into the hauntingly blue stare, "Why are you here, Trysten?"
A smug grin, that would have never appeared on the real Trysten's face, crawled across his features. Zahi inhaled sharply at how the simple expression made the reclusive, sad little boy he had known morph into Stanton's twin at his most sadistic. "It's willing to take you back, Zahi. You and Art."
He wanted to deny that the statement sent a delicious thrill up his spine, but Zahi would have been lying, "And if we refuse?"
The grin faded, replaced by a cold and determined glare, "Then I've been given permission to eradicate both of you."
A snort escaped his nose as he ordered another shot, this time he nursed it, "And after that, then what?"
Trysten's upper lip twitched, "The Atrox's affairs are none of your concern unless you accept my offer." He continued smoothly.
The French teen took a sip of his drink, "Allow me to venture a guess? The Incinti want you to track down and recruit or kill all of those that were once close to you, in order to ensure commitment." He held up a finger, "I'm obviously the first, due to the fact that you think I'll be an easy conversion because of my own weakness. You think I'm like some pathetic ex-junkie itching to get another fix." His eyes coolly evaluated Trysten, attempting to see if he got a reaction. It was there, hidden underneath the faintest of scowls, he lifted another finger, "Then you'll go after Art. Depending on whatever my fate has in store for me, Art will be powerless. If I rejoin, you believe that Art's willpower will shatter, and he will follow. If I choose to be defeated, and you know you have the power to destroy me, than Art will be such an emotional wreck he'll be an easy takeover." He almost chuckled at the deepening of Trysten's scowl, "Kindly correct me if I'm wrong."
"Are you finished stalling?" He ground out, obviously irritated.
"Not quite," Zahi continued, taking another sip. "Because we're not all that are on your hit list, are we? There's still shy, quiet Riley Zalank to think about." He laughed, "Your vicariously living hope, who you burdened with your fall almost as much as you burdened Art and I." His tone picked up a detached amusement, "If you're going to destroy her, you should have gone after her first. There's been a lot of rumors circulating around that Tymmie's been very interested in what happens to the Lecta."
Trysten's fingers clenched against the countertop, and Zahi recognized the signs of agitation in the way his jaw ticked, "Stop trying to distract me, Zahi, and make your choice."
Zahi just saluted him with the shot glass, "But you know that it's not just my choice, don't you Trysten? It's as much of my own personal decision as yours was. You're making me be responsible again."
"It's in your nature, your most obvious weakness." Trysten quipped coldly.
"And I suppose it's in your nature to become cruel and callous?" Zahi retorted, "I guess that whole apple falling far from the tree analogy is true after all."
The silence that followed only escalated the tension between the two before Trysten spoke as flatly as possible, "Never make the mistake of comparing me to my father again." His fingers tightened their grip, "I will become so much worse."
Zahi just exhaled, not wanting to indulge Trysten on his pity-train. "You allowed yourself to fall, Trysten, and now you want me to make the same choice. To make the decision for not only myself, but for Art as well." He downed the rest of the bourbon, "If you think that I'm going to just calmly walk into this, then you are sorely mistaken."
Trysten gave a curt chuckle, "I know you want it, Zahi, it's been gnawing at your insides ever since I met you. You want the freedom, you want to unleash your darkness."
"What I want sadly no longer concerns you."
The newest Prince of the Night gave him a calculating look, "But you're resisting, why? There's nothing for you amongst the hopeful. You're only going to end up hurting them, we both know it, the proverbial wolf in sheep's clothing. One day you're going to break, and you'll have no one to blame but yourself. That's your true nature, Zahi, just like it's mine. So why fight it?"
Zahi stared contemplatively out into space for a few moments, his fingers absently toying with the glass. On the shiny countertop, he could see Trysten's polished reflection on the surface, expectantly awaiting his verdict. But, he saw something else in the countertop for the first time, he saw his hesitance, his fear. He saw Trysten's fear of rejection, he saw the little boy he had met five years ago. He saw another person entirely in that counter. His mind drifted to another lost boy, one that he knew now he had to watch over. A bittersweet smile crept onto his face as he slowly pulled out a few bills to pay for his drinks.
"I'm not going to fight you Trysten," He announced coldly.
When he saw the relief flit through his azure eyes, Zahi had the answer he had been looking for. "Then come, we'll arrange a Cold Fire-"
"And I'm not going with you." He continued.
Trysten's eyes flashed phosphorescent, "What?"
"I have something to connect me to this place," Was all Zahi said simply as he pulled on his jacket.
Anger clung to the younger boy's words, "And what would that be?"
Zahi turned around and looked at him for possibly the last time, "Something you've forgotten Trysten." With that, he continued to walk towards the door, not even waiting for Trysten's response.
"I won't offer again," Trysten yelled out after him.
"I know." Zahi whispered to himself, as he closed the door behind him.
He knew Trysten wouldn't follow him, there would be no epic battle that night.
And he was right.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Art had been staring at the kitchen clock for the past two hours, worry overtaking him every time the minute flashed and the door to the apartment remained closed. His eyes continued to train themselves on the digital numbers as they mocked him in the distance. Fear filled him as a million anxieties bombarded his mind. What if Zahi had left him alone forever? What if he disappeared like Trysten? Despite the fact that he was fifteen years old, Art felt like a helpless child.
His eyes refused to blink, and were tearing up due to the dryness.
When he finally heard the door creak open, he almost fell off his chair, "Zahi?!" He questioned pathetically.
"I'm home," Came a muffled, and slightly slurred response.
When Art looked at his older brother, he knew immediately that something dramatic had happened. His eyes weren't as clouded over, and his posture was less carefree. He seemed determined, and Art wasn't quite sure how to handle it, "Did something happen?" He asked carefully as possible.
Zahi met his stare, and Art was amazed at the renewed intensity, "We can get him back." He said sternly, in a tone that left no room for argument.
Art was torn between laughing hysterically in relief or checking Zahi's sanity. Instead, he settled for a wry half grin, "Yeah." There was silence before he awkwardly moved off his chair, "I'm going to go to bed." He muttered, slowly retreating.
Zahi just nodded, looking worn out, "Good night."
"Night." He mumbled, still somewhat in a daze as he entered his bedroom.
As soon as Art had left the kitchen, Zahi went to the fridge and grabbed the other carton of orange juice in the fridge. He carefully sauntered to the sink and unscrewed the lid. He stared at the drink, amazed at how something so trivial seemed to mean so much to him. Taking a huge gulp of the acidic drink, Zahi then dumped the rest of it into the sink before tossing the empty container in the trash can. He knew that having it around would upset Art, and Zahi was, ultimately, responsible.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
The next morning, Art woke up readily and calmly as he stared at his ceiling, his arms folded behind his head. He hated to admit it to himself, but hearing Zahi's careful declaration the night before had reinvigorated him, made him feel less alone. Trysten was gone, but there was a chance.
It was something to look forward to when he got up in the morning.
Art rolled out of bed and went to the kitchen, where Zahi sat calmly at the table, skimming through the newspaper headlines and eating cereal. Silently, he poured himself a bowl and began eating it. About halfway through the meal, he couldn't take it anymore and he asked the question that had been on his mind since Zahi had stormed off.
"Why did you come back?"
Zahi turned the page of the paper, and looked up. He took a moment before simply answering, "You're my family." Then returned to his reading.
And Art allowed himself to smile genuinely this time, and he was thankful that at least two pieces of the puzzle were still stuck together.
They could cope with everything else later.
End.
AN: I know I left you hanging on the Trysten versus Zahi and Art thing, but it will come into play later, I swear. This is just where it needed to end.
Lataz
!nym!