Post by Deleted on Mar 19, 2019 6:35:36 GMT
Omar had found old pictures a few days after Yang left. Centuries old portraits of himself in various states of dress and undress. Portraits of a few of his sons and daughters. Nothing racey with his children thank the heavens. His fingers had traced over the faces of the ones he knew were dead. Spanish Flu, Scarlet Fever, Rickets, the one toddler boy who wouldn’t stop crying. Omar had held that four year old and his mother till they stopped breathing. Whatever it had been had almost killed him as well. He sort of wished it had.
Lupus had killed four of his children. So many had died. Of the forty seven he’d fathered, there were only maybe five still alive. Jane was one. The others were who knew where, and his oldest was probably on his deathbed anyway. Omar had stared at his family tree and watched his heart bleed into the cracked paint. He put them all back how he found them and left before he broke down and was punished for looking at all. Age had never bothered him, not really, but every day here and he felt the weight of time settle into his bones more and more.
A few weeks after Yang had left Omar was cleaning the sitting area and trying to stay away from Davie, who had woken up in a right bad temper and had wasted no time ripping Omar’s nerves and what little happiness he’d woken up with apart. Omar moved slowly, though his joints didn’t creak and his face showed no wrinkles or lines, sometimes the old scars burned from the damaged and overly sensitive nerves. Sometimes his bones felt like glass and he was ready to break. Sometimes, he just felt old. And it was hard, less and less creatures as old or older were around each year. Omar had always lived because there was nothing else, people needed him, loved him, but he would step aside if they asked. Fall asleep and never wake up. He didn’t know where this came from so suddenly, but it was a siren’s song.
“Hiding?”
Omar got off his knees and stood, turning to face his master, once lover, but always nightmare. “Cleaning Davie. Just cleaning” his voice was a soft sigh.
“Don’t tell me this was all I needed to break you!” Omar watched the cruel smile and returned it with a faded smile of his own.
“Funny, how I once loved you. I would have died for you”
The smile fell off Davie’s face and something flickered in his eyes. “Once?”
“I never saw how cruel you were. And made myself believe your lesser cruelties were kindnesses” a part of Omar was as shocked as the look on Davie’s face, but most of him was beyond caring. The love he’d felt was gone, probably for a few years now. He was still devoted but it was no longer blind, still cared for Davie but as a master and the person he knew better than he knew himself. It wasn’t romantic, but he did still depend on Davie. “You caused me so much misery. I was borrowed by your friends. My partners often died, and I haven’t held most of my children in years. And I thought-I thought you wanted to protect me” the disgust in his voice shook him.
The slap shook him more, though.
“The American Ideal doesn’t suit you, pet” Davie said calmly as Omar brought a shaking hand to his stinging cheek. Pet. He hadn’t been referred to as that since….
“Are you going to retrain me then? Make me love you again?” The bitter bite in his voice covered his resigned and panicked emotions. “I haven’t been “pet” since I was seventeen” he’d been so naive too. Naive and incapable of understanding what love was, what real affection from a loved one was.
“Heh, can’t be that hard. You fell for that child. That little blueberry. Maybe, I should kill her. Let you watch as-you little Bitch![/i]” Omar had punched Davie, he’d felt his nose break under his hand. It was so fucking cathartic, and terrifying. He’d never hurt Davie before. Blood spurted between Davie’s fingers as he assumed his Unseelie form. Omar stayed where he was, more shocked he’d finally punched his master than he was really interested in fleeing. Where would he even go? He couldn’t even leave the house.
Davie lunged for Omar and slammed him against the wall, choking him. Omar grabbed the wrist and squeezed, not afraid anymore. He felt the wrist shatter in his grip and Davie grabbed him by the hair with his good hand and began dragging him away from the room. Omar stumbled after, his hands trying to get at Davie’s and make him let go. But with the random jerks to his hair and the quick pace Omar couldn’t get a good grip. “You should be grateful! Time and again I saved your life, kept you safe from the Raven Prince’s whims! Your son River wasn’t so lucky! He can’t walk without a cane now, do you want that to happen? Or fuck, remember Thaddeus?” A soft cry from Omar. How could he forget? Thaddeus had been turned into a monstrosity. Killing him had been the only kindness Omar could give him at the end.
Omar was thrown by his hair into the bedroom. “You should beg me for forgiveness, beg for River. Maybe he can come here”
“I learned long ago not to believe gilded promises. Not from people like you”
He was kicked in the stomach and grunted/whimpered as he fell back. River was his oldest. He looked so like his mother. She was an elf. And had tried to protect her son. Her own people had betrayed the baby, and River had been given to the Prince as an apology. Omar had seen him a little. Each time he was more sickly, pale, haunted. But at least he was alive. If that was all he could take from this, at least River was alive.
“Let me go, Davie” he sounded faint, blood rushing in his ears drowning out all else. “You could kill me and I wouldn’t care. So do it. End me or let me go” either way he’d be free of his torment.
“You ever try to go back to me, and all your loved ones die” one last kick for good measure before Omar could get up. Hand to his side, he edged around Davie before limping quickly out of the room. Tears fell hot and fast down his cheeks as he moved as quickly as possible to the door. He felt free, terrified, sick and so tired. So old. The door didn’t shock him and he burst out into cold air. It was raining lightly, the cold rain that cut into your skin like needles. He moved aimlessly. He didn’t know where he was going really. Just away from Davie before he changed his mind. His bare feet were going numb and the thin tank cling to him and did nothing to protect him.
Somehow, he reached the park. He laid down on a bench and closed his eyes. Numb. And it felt good.
~*~
“I don’t think one of ours is in the park” said Roman doubtfully, but he took the trip anyway, his umbrella twirling as he moved to the area.
Well, it was an Other, but not one of his group. It took getting closer to see who it even was. The troll singer that had been missing! Roman whistled low and crouched to check pulse. Normally tanned, Omar’s skin was waxy and pale from the beginnings of hypothermia. Cold too, but he was alive. Why he was so badly dressed for the weather Roman had no clue. Just then, Omar shifted and batted Roman’s hand away. Roman sighed.
“Bud, you can’t stay here. You’ll die. Where do you live? I’ll take you home”
Omar shifted and whimpered. “Jane...baby…” okay, so he was hallucinating. Maybe hospital would be better. Or take him to whoever Jane was and let her decide. He went for the second option.
“Omar, listen to me. Where is Jane?”
“Jane?”
“Yes. Where is Jane?”
“...home” he seemed to be struggling to remember. “Ohm Village apartments, G23” he fell back against the bench and his breath softened. Roman sighed. Curse him and his bleeding heart. He pulled the other redhead into his arms and fell into the shadows around them. This Jane was going to get the shock of her life, but fuck it Roman wasn’t going to let someone find Omar dead on the bench. Why? No idea. Maybe the troll made him remember being in similar situations.
~*~
“Namine, dad will be home before you know it, you’ll see” Namine managed a weak smile at her adoptive sister and nodded. Omar had a habit of getting in and out of sticky situations, usually with help but he always came back with a smile and kind word.
Darkness seemed to gather in a corner though and Namine backed up to Jane, terrified that maybe Vanitas was going to get them. Instead, a different criminal stepped out of the shadows. Roman Torchwick, his face was on the wanted posters. Namine screamed softly and Jane picked up a pan and held it menacingly.
Roman held a hand out, the other hand holding...someone? “Relax ladies, this is a peaceful call. Who’s Jane?” Jane gave him a look but stepped forward. Roman nodded and moved to reveal the other figure. It was Omar. Jane rushed forward, intent on saving her dad. Roman put a hand out.
“I found him on a bench in the rain. You should get him looked at. I’ve gotta go before I give your friend a heart attack” he waved and stepped back in the shadows and was gone. Jane sank to the floor and touched her dad. He had come back but he wasn’t smiling. He looked half dead and suddenly seemed like what he was; an old, old man in a twenty year old’s body.
“Dad, what happened?”
No answer for several minutes then;
“I won my freedom”
But Jane had to wonder at what cost.
Lupus had killed four of his children. So many had died. Of the forty seven he’d fathered, there were only maybe five still alive. Jane was one. The others were who knew where, and his oldest was probably on his deathbed anyway. Omar had stared at his family tree and watched his heart bleed into the cracked paint. He put them all back how he found them and left before he broke down and was punished for looking at all. Age had never bothered him, not really, but every day here and he felt the weight of time settle into his bones more and more.
A few weeks after Yang had left Omar was cleaning the sitting area and trying to stay away from Davie, who had woken up in a right bad temper and had wasted no time ripping Omar’s nerves and what little happiness he’d woken up with apart. Omar moved slowly, though his joints didn’t creak and his face showed no wrinkles or lines, sometimes the old scars burned from the damaged and overly sensitive nerves. Sometimes his bones felt like glass and he was ready to break. Sometimes, he just felt old. And it was hard, less and less creatures as old or older were around each year. Omar had always lived because there was nothing else, people needed him, loved him, but he would step aside if they asked. Fall asleep and never wake up. He didn’t know where this came from so suddenly, but it was a siren’s song.
“Hiding?”
Omar got off his knees and stood, turning to face his master, once lover, but always nightmare. “Cleaning Davie. Just cleaning” his voice was a soft sigh.
“Don’t tell me this was all I needed to break you!” Omar watched the cruel smile and returned it with a faded smile of his own.
“Funny, how I once loved you. I would have died for you”
The smile fell off Davie’s face and something flickered in his eyes. “Once?”
“I never saw how cruel you were. And made myself believe your lesser cruelties were kindnesses” a part of Omar was as shocked as the look on Davie’s face, but most of him was beyond caring. The love he’d felt was gone, probably for a few years now. He was still devoted but it was no longer blind, still cared for Davie but as a master and the person he knew better than he knew himself. It wasn’t romantic, but he did still depend on Davie. “You caused me so much misery. I was borrowed by your friends. My partners often died, and I haven’t held most of my children in years. And I thought-I thought you wanted to protect me” the disgust in his voice shook him.
The slap shook him more, though.
“The American Ideal doesn’t suit you, pet” Davie said calmly as Omar brought a shaking hand to his stinging cheek. Pet. He hadn’t been referred to as that since….
“Are you going to retrain me then? Make me love you again?” The bitter bite in his voice covered his resigned and panicked emotions. “I haven’t been “pet” since I was seventeen” he’d been so naive too. Naive and incapable of understanding what love was, what real affection from a loved one was.
“Heh, can’t be that hard. You fell for that child. That little blueberry. Maybe, I should kill her. Let you watch as-you little Bitch![/i]” Omar had punched Davie, he’d felt his nose break under his hand. It was so fucking cathartic, and terrifying. He’d never hurt Davie before. Blood spurted between Davie’s fingers as he assumed his Unseelie form. Omar stayed where he was, more shocked he’d finally punched his master than he was really interested in fleeing. Where would he even go? He couldn’t even leave the house.
Davie lunged for Omar and slammed him against the wall, choking him. Omar grabbed the wrist and squeezed, not afraid anymore. He felt the wrist shatter in his grip and Davie grabbed him by the hair with his good hand and began dragging him away from the room. Omar stumbled after, his hands trying to get at Davie’s and make him let go. But with the random jerks to his hair and the quick pace Omar couldn’t get a good grip. “You should be grateful! Time and again I saved your life, kept you safe from the Raven Prince’s whims! Your son River wasn’t so lucky! He can’t walk without a cane now, do you want that to happen? Or fuck, remember Thaddeus?” A soft cry from Omar. How could he forget? Thaddeus had been turned into a monstrosity. Killing him had been the only kindness Omar could give him at the end.
Omar was thrown by his hair into the bedroom. “You should beg me for forgiveness, beg for River. Maybe he can come here”
“I learned long ago not to believe gilded promises. Not from people like you”
He was kicked in the stomach and grunted/whimpered as he fell back. River was his oldest. He looked so like his mother. She was an elf. And had tried to protect her son. Her own people had betrayed the baby, and River had been given to the Prince as an apology. Omar had seen him a little. Each time he was more sickly, pale, haunted. But at least he was alive. If that was all he could take from this, at least River was alive.
“Let me go, Davie” he sounded faint, blood rushing in his ears drowning out all else. “You could kill me and I wouldn’t care. So do it. End me or let me go” either way he’d be free of his torment.
“You ever try to go back to me, and all your loved ones die” one last kick for good measure before Omar could get up. Hand to his side, he edged around Davie before limping quickly out of the room. Tears fell hot and fast down his cheeks as he moved as quickly as possible to the door. He felt free, terrified, sick and so tired. So old. The door didn’t shock him and he burst out into cold air. It was raining lightly, the cold rain that cut into your skin like needles. He moved aimlessly. He didn’t know where he was going really. Just away from Davie before he changed his mind. His bare feet were going numb and the thin tank cling to him and did nothing to protect him.
Somehow, he reached the park. He laid down on a bench and closed his eyes. Numb. And it felt good.
~*~
“I don’t think one of ours is in the park” said Roman doubtfully, but he took the trip anyway, his umbrella twirling as he moved to the area.
Well, it was an Other, but not one of his group. It took getting closer to see who it even was. The troll singer that had been missing! Roman whistled low and crouched to check pulse. Normally tanned, Omar’s skin was waxy and pale from the beginnings of hypothermia. Cold too, but he was alive. Why he was so badly dressed for the weather Roman had no clue. Just then, Omar shifted and batted Roman’s hand away. Roman sighed.
“Bud, you can’t stay here. You’ll die. Where do you live? I’ll take you home”
Omar shifted and whimpered. “Jane...baby…” okay, so he was hallucinating. Maybe hospital would be better. Or take him to whoever Jane was and let her decide. He went for the second option.
“Omar, listen to me. Where is Jane?”
“Jane?”
“Yes. Where is Jane?”
“...home” he seemed to be struggling to remember. “Ohm Village apartments, G23” he fell back against the bench and his breath softened. Roman sighed. Curse him and his bleeding heart. He pulled the other redhead into his arms and fell into the shadows around them. This Jane was going to get the shock of her life, but fuck it Roman wasn’t going to let someone find Omar dead on the bench. Why? No idea. Maybe the troll made him remember being in similar situations.
~*~
“Namine, dad will be home before you know it, you’ll see” Namine managed a weak smile at her adoptive sister and nodded. Omar had a habit of getting in and out of sticky situations, usually with help but he always came back with a smile and kind word.
Darkness seemed to gather in a corner though and Namine backed up to Jane, terrified that maybe Vanitas was going to get them. Instead, a different criminal stepped out of the shadows. Roman Torchwick, his face was on the wanted posters. Namine screamed softly and Jane picked up a pan and held it menacingly.
Roman held a hand out, the other hand holding...someone? “Relax ladies, this is a peaceful call. Who’s Jane?” Jane gave him a look but stepped forward. Roman nodded and moved to reveal the other figure. It was Omar. Jane rushed forward, intent on saving her dad. Roman put a hand out.
“I found him on a bench in the rain. You should get him looked at. I’ve gotta go before I give your friend a heart attack” he waved and stepped back in the shadows and was gone. Jane sank to the floor and touched her dad. He had come back but he wasn’t smiling. He looked half dead and suddenly seemed like what he was; an old, old man in a twenty year old’s body.
“Dad, what happened?”
No answer for several minutes then;
“I won my freedom”
But Jane had to wonder at what cost.
