+ Fallacy, a 100themes Challenge +
Sarehptar
Theme: 16, Questioning
Characters: Kharl, Ruin
Pairing: None
Warnings: Awkwardness... and I poke fun at MPREG. XD
Need to Know Info: You all should know Ruin by now...
Title Provider: Field of Innocence (Evanescence)
I Still Remember the Sun, Always Warm on My Back... Somehow it Seems Colder Now
"Where is my mother?" Ruin asks, in the steady and unavoidable voice that only children can wield. Kharl stills, the heavy book in his hands quickly forgotten. The golden light of the library's high windows picks at Ruin's dark hair, dying his hard crimson eyes a dull orange. There is a quiet solemnity to the down-curve of his delicate, pale lips. Kharl stares, taken aback and frightened. "Where is my mother?" the boy repeats, and something in the glint of his eyes says there can be no escape this time.
"Ruin…" the Alchemist sighs deeply and wonders if he has put off answering for too long. He makes a move to invite the tiny child onto his knees as is their custom, but Ruin stands firm, fragile arms crossed, pout and determination flaring on his face. "You're," the lilac-haired man begins and then pauses, thinking over his words carefully. He knows they will be heavy, they will be unwanted, and they may cause pain. "You're special."
"Is she dead? Or did she leave us?" the little boy asks, and there is a detached briskness in his voice that unsettles Kharl—how can any child ask such a horrible thing so bluntly?
"No Ruin," his voice is bracing and tentative, "you're different than other demons. You don't have a mother." The boy blinks slowly, the words drifting over and over in his head.
"That's not possible," he says finally, confusion more than evident. "There has to be a mother and a father." Kharl curses himself again for waiting until now, when Ruin is clever enough to understand the way the world works.
"It's different in our case," he wonders at how strange that must sound, and also cruel, "you were not 'born'—you were created."
"Created," Ruin repeats, but he does not question, "by only you." The Alchemist nods because he's not sure what else to say. The boy fixes him with another level stare, and asks without the slightest shame, "did I grow inside you?" There is a moment of uncomfortable silence, while Kharl wonders if he should laugh or shudder.
"No," he answers finally, "I crafted your body with magic." Something in the boy's eyes dies little by little, and the Alchemist feels as if he has said something wrong.
"Then I'm not your son." Crimson eyes dare him to refute it.
"You are. We share the same blood."
"So do some of your other creations." It is a sharp retort, too harsh from such a small body.
"But you are different."
"Because you made me that way?" Kharl says nothing in reply because 'yes' and 'no' are both wrong choices.
"Ruin, do you understand what makes a mother a mother?" The boy does not know what answer is expected, and he stumbles over a few words while he thinks. "Love is what gives a mother her title, makes a child more than simply another small being. It is not the circumstances of your existence that make you my son—it is the depth with which I care for you that does."
The boy crosses the short distance between them to accept his father's embrace, but there is dissatisfaction drifting darkly in the air between them. Ruin wonders if his father will one day make a demon he likes more.
Kharl kisses the top his son's dark head and feels cold.
Next up, Theme 17: Blood
It was no accident, but that is what he will say later when Garfakcy asks why his finger is bandaged.