Closed Unexpected Ties

[Ricky Maze]

Unexpected Ties
Summer 33rd 514 AV, 10th Bell
Location: The Syliras Theater

It had been the start of a beautiful yet overly warm day for Ricky, the walls of Syliras had to them a sort of smell that didn't quite match the same aroma of home. He wanted to smell the sea again and all the glorious scents the winds carried over throughout the bay, but of course the only so called sea that came close to home was the Suvan Sea itself. He remembered it well, the very sea he'd traveled across to reach Alvadas once. It'd been such a long time since he'd passed through here, practically two years since the return trip to Zeltiva had been made. That was back when his four legged faithful companion seemed to still kick about, though he was far from a spring chicken considering his age in dog years. Still Odis was a sporty companion with a strong loyal connection to Ricky, and in the end he went down serving his master with no regrets. Now of course Ricky believed there was more, so much more to the story that he himself couldn't help but believe there was some sort of truth in the theory.

Still he couldn't help but wonder just what exactly his own Godfather would think, how Odis felt about this whole trip if he were here to witness it all in person. Perhaps somewhere in the next life the Deities permitted him to watch from afar, if not spiritually remain with him along this whole journey. Of course even when he felt eager to leave and head home, he couldn't quite rush the two that had traveled with him just yet. Unlike him both Telion and Hannah had more rest to retain after their endeavor to reach Syliras in the time they'd made, and even then they didn't get to experience the full effect of Rak'keli's healing powers from a priestess either. All the same today was more or less a trip down memory lane for Ricky since he'd already visited this place once before. He had to admit the first time he was here he didn't rightfully go anywhere really, he'd only stayed indoors if not out at the docks while his four legged companion healed that season. Of course today was lead to low expectations as Ricky'd come to expect practically the unexpected, anything could easily happen on a day like today.

Like now. He'd already roamed around the Bazaar and managed to find himself a new lute to purchase, a wonderfully crafted instrument that he bought from a woman people called Sina. His initial thought was to return back to the Traveler's Row where they rented a room so he could show it to his wife, but in turn he found a sense of wanderlust combined with that of a innate desire to try and get a bit of practice under his belt. He wasn't a stranger to the lute after all but then again he hadn't been acquainted with one again in so long either, therefore he would definitely have to work out the kinks in relearning the notes as well as practicing a few sounds. Mainly he just wanted to come up with a melody, a tune that sounded well with the lullaby his beloved had managed to sing so many nights now. It was Martin's own lullaby actually, but seeing as how the couple had to leave their child back in Zeltiva, the very fact the lullaby served purpose in putting them to sleep helped served as a comforting reminder on their journey. Thus Ricky stumbled into a part of Syliras he'd fully explored, some turns off and on led him to discover the location of a courtyard where few buskers and merchants seemed to be gathered.

It was the rumored theater Syliras had to offer, or so Ricky had heard through the words of murmured topics. It was a popular place to relax and take an easy day off, as well as a good place for some to try and make a little coin. For Ricky it served best as a place to simply sit down and find that old muse he'd once had, and in turn hopefully pick up on that tune he needed to make his melody come to life. The fisherman took a spot against a column that was tucked a bit of ways from the majority of those gathered here, a simple spot where he didn't really think on how much he would stand out from the rest. Oddly enough his size as well as "accent" as many Syliran's claimed were odd to them, it wasn't often that one would come to meet an actual man from Zeltiva his size. If anything it made Ricky feel weird, as though he were setting an example of how Zeltivan's were. Yet he wasn't, there was no absolute example other than sailors and scholars... and Ricky was neither so he hardly had thought to dwell on it. All the same it was easy to spot him if one wanted to notice him, a mere glance would give away a large fellow in but a white vest and green linen trousers as he sat against the column, attention solely devoted to the beautifully crafted wooden instrument in his hands.

Hmm... 'ow's it go again? He took a moment to think about the lullaby and then listened closely to the other buskers not to far away, a complacent smile on his face as he contemplated just how he thought his chords should sound when he would try to strum and learn the notes once again. Somet'in soft but not t' slow, needs t' be a good tune t' mellow out t'. He thought further as he stroked the hair on his chin, it was then he murmured to himself the same words in the lullaby as he would strum once or twice while moving his fingers along the neck of the lute, in turn search for the sounds he sought to match the mood he wanted for the lullaby.
"Come sail on de tides o' weary sailor, come sail on de gentle waters o' love. Where de shores o' home are waitin', where Oi'll be waitin' for yew, my sailor my little dove." Nothing matched yet... but he didn't give up, he continued to listen closely as his fingers traveled further down the lute, the notes took a deeper tone as he slowed to a position where he thought he discovered where the first part of the sound would begin.

[Lissa Maze]

Lissa Maze There was no other way to say it: Lissa was wilting. She wiped sweat off her forehead, an effortless look of displeasure covering her face. It was too hot. As a lifelong resident of Syliras, she should be comfortable in all the weather it had to offer, but her body had never quite gotten that message. Working in heat, she thought miserably, was rather a terrible way to spend one's morning. It was particularly bad when that work had involved dark, musty spaces and heavy lifting--namely, stable work. It had been a bad day at work. As Lissa ambled through Syliras, pausing on occasion to stretch or rub painful limbs, she thought through her day--again. As if living the morning hadn't been bad enough. It really had started the night before. For some reason--thinking back, she couldn't remember why--she'd been in a mood. Not just a bad mood, but a restless, mobile sort of mood...so she'd been outside until late, brooding. Eventually she'd settled herself on the ground leaning against a closed stall in the Bazaar. It had enough foot traffic to be a sensible sort of place to sit alone at night, but there was nobody she knew. It wasn't too near the orphanage (not that they would be out so late--another reason she'd left) or the stables enough to see those she knew. For once, that was precisely what she had wanted. Lissa tried to remember why she'd taken them out. She knew what that old picture looked like--the smiling couple, her parents--she knew it by heart. She didn't even need to look at the image to see it in her mind, but she looked anyways. Then, for some reason, she took out the letter. That stupid letter from her father. Why had she taken it out? She mentally scolded herself for that. It was purposeless frustration, that. She knew what it said well enough, and she couldn't read it herself. It always hurt to think about that. Little children could read--people she thought of as idiots could read! And yet this simple skill still eluded her. It had taken most of her self control to fold the letter and the picture instead of shoving them, crumpled, into her pocket. Then, the wandering had commenced. A brief flirtation with a walk through the closing Bazaar had been rejected, and the stables seemed too contained. She'd ended up walking through Syliras near where her childhood had been spent, peering into stores and enjoying or wincing at memories of a childhood spent among the shelves. Eventually the wandering had taken her to The Rearing Stallion. She'd hung around outside for a moment, wondering...in all her life, she'd never actually entered the place. She'd seen her mother walking or stumbling in and out, but never gone in herself. Should she go in? Get drunk like her mother did, stumble home....the idea repulsed her. The girl had turned and half-run back to her room at Traveler's Row, falling into bed. In the morning she almost wished that she'd gotten drunk. Hangovers had to be a good excuse to wake up in a dreadful mood, right? She'd just woken up, realized she was late for work, and run in a tired stupor to the stables. It was already hot in the morning, and it only got worse as she worked. Getting there late left her with the worse jobs--and some of the other grooms got to cool off the horses with sponges and water outside. Lissa shook her head, weariness finally having overtaken a bad mood. The girl looked around, finally taking in her surroundings. She had wandered through much of the city (she suspected that she had made at least one circle) and ended up near the theater. That was as good a place as any to take a rest. She was off work for the rest of the day, but not quite willing to spend much money (though better clothes to stay cool in summer had been an appealing idea), and in need of somewhere to go and something to do. The theater provided both. A mid-day crowd was gathered near the middle; Lissa paused, listening just long enough to hear Amelia Sorian's voice rise above the crowd's appreciation, and moved on. She wanted a quieter space for now. Off to the side, a melody caught her attention. It wasn't certain, the player clearly still getting the hang of his tune, but it was pleasant, and the girl moved towards the sound. A man was singing. A few lyrics led her to think it was a lullaby, but not one she'd heard before. He had an accent...perhaps this was a Zeltivan lullaby? Was this what her father would have sung if he'd stayed with her mother? With uncharacteristic quiet, Lissa leaned against a column and listened, eyes half closed. The melody eventually came to an end or a pause, though, and she straightened up, stepping in front of the man and blinking from the shift from shadows to sunlight. "That was very nice," she said, and wished that she had thought of something better to say. "It was a lullaby, right? I mean, it sounded like it might be. Not one I've ever heard, but it was nice. I thought maybe it was something people sing where you're from--I've never lived anywhere but Syliras, not since I can remember, so I wouldn't really know." Assuming her welcome, the tired girl sat down on the grass near the lute playing man, and smiled. Sitting, after such a morning, felt good.

[Ricky Maze]

There was a sudden soft but forward voice that managed to pull out of the shell of thoughts he'd withdrawn himself in, a squint of his eyes happened as he looked up from the lute into the highlight of the day to find that a young lady had found herself standing before him with a gentle smile on her face. Her compliment was met with a simple but all the more humble smile from Ricky that in turn greeted her as well, "T'anks lassie, me wife's better at singin' it den Oi am fer sure." She then took a seat on the ground next to him with curiosity centered around the general song, no doubt a good enough topic to get a decent conversation going between the two of them.

All the same Ricky welcomed her presence, for one she seemed quite nice and friendly, and all the more reason was due to the fact she was a native here. Since Ricky had to recuperate in his own terms he might as well meet a few Sylirans while he stayed here after all. At first Ricky nodded when the question was brought up, but then in turn he would fully explain just how it came to be a lullaby and in turn where its inspiration came from. "De song is based from a sailor in Zeltiva who gits t' see de world, but never forgets where 'is 'ome is fer one. Mainly t'ough its a song me love sings t' our boy, t' put 'im t' sleep when bed time rolls roun'. Since we 'ad t' leave 'im behind fer de trip 'ere t'ough she's sang it t' me, as it reminds us both o' who's waitin' on us at 'ome." He finished with a humble tone as he looked sincerely towards her, of course usual habit dictated he avoid any signs of direct eye contact though.

All the same this girl would be able to see that Ricky was by far a foreigner to Syliras, if his accent and unusual size wasn't a straight indication then surely enough his clothes, the tattoos on his shoulders, even the way he smelled could've very well hinted at this as well. With a glance cast towards the other buskers the deep blue eyes squinted for a moment as he listened in on their tunes, namely what the mandolin player was strumming seeing as how it was similar to the instrument in Ricky's hands. The fisherman had a sense of a calm demeanor about him as he held a soft smile on his face, his gaze then redirected back to the girl that had taken a seat next to him. "Oi'd t'ought Oi'd git some practice in an' make an actual song outta dat lullaby, but alas me finger's aren't as nimble as t'ey could be." He admitted modestly with a chuckle, a quick wipe over the small sheen of sweat over his brow with his forearm. "Me names Ricky by de way, pleasure meetin' ya miss..."

The trail off was more or less an open indication for her to pick up, to return with a name of her own while the two continued their friendly conversation she'd started.

[Lissa Maze]

[

Lissa Maze OOCSO sorry about the massively delayed reply. Also, I'm not having Lissa make a connection yet. She was just thinking about the picture and the letter the night before, so there will be some feeling of suspiciously familiar things, but I thought it was unlikely to be an immediate connection...the end felt a bit odd but with the name and the setup from her night before thinking about it all I thought there ought to be something? You are completely welcome to go where you wish--push it now or let them figure it out some other way/time in the thread. As the man spoke, Lissa hooked an arm behind her head in a stretch. Belatedly she realized that it might look like she was not listening, and she stopped--but she still thought that was silly. Stretching didn't take her ears, and listening didn't take her arms, and yet people seemed to think that one simply blocked the other. Still, she didn't want to end a new association so quickly. JHe spoke with an odd accent, but not an entirely unfamiliar one. Syliras being a port city, one heard all sorts of accents. She had delighted in trying (with no success) to mimic them as a child, but a different type of voice still peaked interest. His explanation of the song, though, was much more fascinating. "De song is based from a sailor in Zeltiva who gits t' see de world, but never forgets where 'is 'ome is fer one. Mainly t'ough its a song me love sings t' our boy, t' put 'im t' sleep when bed time rolls roun'. Since we 'ad t' leave 'im behind fer de trip 'ere t'ough she's sang it t' me, as it reminds us both o' who's waitin' on us at 'ome." Immediately, Lissa assumed that the sailor from Zeltiva must be this man. It had to be about him--quite perfect for a love song to his family. A song about family for family...that, she thought for a rare wistful moment, would have been nice. Her mother hadn't been much of a composer. She hadn't sung lullabies that Lissa had been old enough to remember, nor been much of a type for telling stories. It wasn't that she minded them, but she...didn't. Lissa had gotten her stories and songs from elsewhere, then, and made up as many as she could. Songs, though...she loved songs, and never learned much of them. One of the many childhood dreams Lissa had gone through was being a great musician. That one never fu.lly faded, though now Lissa rather thought that she'd settle for being able to pick out a tune (or carry one). She didn't notice his apparent concentration on the other buskers, but rather picked up the conversation. "You must have lots of stories from being a sailor," she said, smiling. "I"ve never beeen out of Syliras that I remember--well, I know I wasn't actually born here, but that's just because my mum was traveling when she had me, I've lived here all my life except that bit, which was hardly a handful of days really, and I don't remember them..." She was rambling, and she knew it. Something was nagging at Lissa's mind, persistent and annoying and just out of reach. He looked familiar, but she was sure she'd never seen him before. She tried to think back, the past few days, at the docks, at the Bazaar...she couldn't remember his face. It didn't fit, either. He was too oddly almost-familiar, and yet utterly new. The girl tried to take off the feeling as he spoke again, having let her own meaningless ramblings trail off time before. The man's voice luckily interrupted her uneasy wonderings, for a moment. "Me names Ricky by de way, pleasure meetin' ya miss..." Lissa didn't realize until that moment that they hadn't even introduced themselves. As she supplied her own name, she shifted a bit, and a piece of paper fell out of her pocket, ending up betweenthem on the ground. Distracted, she forgot to supply her last name as she usually would, replying just with "Lissa". If Ricky saw or picked up the paper, he would see that, unfolded by the jumble of falling and wind, it had an old but decent sketch of a man and a woman apparently out together. The man looked strikingly like Ricky, though clearly a different person. If he did not pick it up, though, Lissa would herself and show it to him. "Drat," she muttered, patting her pocket to check for the letter. "It's my parents in the sketch, you know, I never met the father but my mum had this sketch...you look kind of like him, you know." That, she realized, was why he looked familiar. He looked rather like her father--another sailor.

[Ricky Maze]

oocLOVED how you presented the opportunity in a subtle manner. The decision to take it down the turn your about to read totally came naturally too, I went ahead and worked with the idea a little too since she would've shown him the sketch anyway, but if I overstepped any boundaries then let me know. I'll get them fixed right away.

There was a soft laugh that echoed from the man when she called him a sailor, a gentle look returned towards her before he would respond and then follow up with a proper introduction. "Oi ain't no sailor lass, raised by a couple sure but certainly ain't no sailor." He mused towards her, and then of course the exchange of names followed as his attention shifted down to the lute once more. She said her name was Lissa, a name that held its own sway over the tongue. It was one that felt pleasant to say as he mentally spoke it in his mind, a soft smile on his face as he looked over at the space of the ground between them. Something had hit the ground, fallen out of her pocket and would've like been lost if gone unnoticed.

Ricky reached down to grasp it but not to open it, instead he handed it back to her, saying "Ye dropped dis" in the process and in returning nodding towards any small thanks she gave. She then decided to unfold the parchment in order to show him what it was, a pleasant smile found its way on Ricky's lips as he then took the sheet by a corner to gaze down at the drawing on the paper. What he saw was a woman who looked to resemble the girl next to him though her features were more prominent, likely because the one who sketched this had a difficult time trying to decide which perspective he wanted to go for. The resemblances was there though, beautiful with a look of life in her eyes as the man next to her held his arms around her lovingly.

"Yer mum's beautiful, Oi can see where yew get yer looks from." He complimented without any means of flirtation or flattery or behind it, it was after all a friendly sense of observation given to her. When she pointed out the fact that both Ricky and the man in the picture, who was her father, looked so much alike he paid more closer attention to his face in turn. What he saw was the face of somebody he thought he knew at first, someone he knew for a fact was dead by now. "Huh, odd. He kinda looks like somebody Oi once knew fer sure." He noted as he denied the notion that it was his own father, he doubted Burten would've gone around having more children in the time he'd thought to been dead for the past eight years he went missing. Yet there was something about the image that was just unshakeable, because even if this man in the image was the girls father he strongly looked like his dad. There was only one absolute way to determine this, and that was to look for the most obvious sign that would've given it away. "Oi t'ink..." There was... was that the scar that resided over Burten's eye? It wasn't etched on the paper very well, likely a detail that could've faded out or may have very well just not drawn in.

"No, never mind. It ain't 'im, bears a close resemblance t'ough." He shrugged as he handed the sheet back over to Lissa. "So yew live wit' yer mum den, yer pa a traveler o' somet'in?" He asked her in a friendly manner with hopes the conversation would continue to flow.

[Lissa Maze]

[

Lissa Maze At his correction – "Oi ain't no sailor lass, raised by a couple sure but certainly ain't no sailor” – the girl couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed. A sailor would be so exciting, interesting. So many places a sailor would go, so many things they would see! So many stories, people—so much of the world a sailor must see. Still, the Zeltivan was interesting in his own right. Lissa was on the verge of asking what the man did, if he was in fact not a sailor, but the small disturbance of her dropped drawing pushed the question from her mind. The girl could not imagine losing it. She knew it by heart, true, but it didn’t matter—having the picture was still the important part. As she showed the drawing to Ricky, Lissa took a moment to look it over again herself. Funny how memory preserved things, she thought. So many memories became fuzzy at a distance, and yet a memory of this picture preserved it better than life. The lines had been sharper when she was a child, clearer; now, the picture showed its age. The edges blurred, adding softness to the image, making it a bit less distinct. She wondered, for a moment, what her father had been like. Though Lissa was in many ways impractical, a sensible core knew that her parents had probably only known one another for a very short time. Her mum had only really told her that her father was a man named Burten Maze, and she’d passed along the surname to Lissa. She had no memories of her father, not even stories…so she’d made them up. The picture usually stayed hidden away, a piece of truth that just got in the way of a better tale. She smiled, not just as his comment about her mother—who had been beautiful, especially in her daughter’s eyes—but also at the picture. Memories it brought back. Her mum had somehow looked less like a Vantha than Lissa, in whom the Inarta blood had seemed to fade. They did, however, look quite alike. Mother and daughter. She was curious to hear that the man said he reminded him of someone, too—and she had to ask. “Who’s that you’re saying he looks like?” the girl asked, taking back the old sketch and folding it away safely. Back in her pocket, where the dratted letter was. A moment later, though, Ricky spoke. ” "So yew live wit' yer mum den, yer pa a traveler o' somet'in?"” She had to smile, though not very happily. Talking about her family without…well, elaborating—talking about them truthfully wasn’t very exciting, or very fun. ”Not exactly,” she said, shifting again. ”I live by myself now. My mum left…eight years ago,” she admitted, skipping neatly over the circumstances. No need to relive her mother’s drunken disappearances with a near stranger, not after her private angsty stroll down memory lane the night before. ”I spend a few years at The Welcome Home and near the end of last season I moved out by myself—I am fift—I mean, I am sixteen now,” she said, a bit flustered. It had been a very short time since her birthday, and she still said it wrong. How embarrassing. ”Well, anyway, I never met my da. Don’t’ even know anything about him really. My mum gave me this picture when I was a kid and told me his name was Burten Maze and that’s all she knew either so stop asking.” She was frowning a bit. Why had this stranger made her think about them? Wasn’t she old enough to be a person without being asked about her parents like a child? She thought about the letter again, and a frown became more visible etched on her face. He’d waited too long to send her anything, talk to her. It didn’t mean anything, the letter. A father and a brother? A fantasy in a letter, more like. That’s what words seemed like to the illiterate teenager. A fantasy. Ironclad truths created by a scratch and ink on paper—magic or nonsense. That’s all it was.

[Ricky Maze]

"Someone dat's no longer a part o' dis world unfortunately." He would answer in a softer voice, the words clearly stained by a painful memory of the blood that was on his hands. The blood that belonged to his own father no less, and the regret of not being able to save him in turn. Ricky couldn't deny that deep down he still felt torn about the loss, but he had far too much to do and go on with to simply stop and dwell on Burten's death. Like now. He was in Syliras, waiting until they were ready to depart. It wouldn't be long until they were bound home, and maybe... just maybe when he returned they would pay a visit to the grave.

Of course the recovery of the topic with Lissa's mother made the conversation continue to flow, avoiding that awkward pause that would've been doomed to follow in the process. He listened closely as he continued to pull at the strings some, a humble look of understanding cast towards Lissa as she explained her story to him. So she was orphaned. In turn finally came to the age where she could take care of herself, it was a hard reality to live in but even so she seemed to be getting along well enough. His heart felt more for her than it did for his loss in truth, while he hadn't any parents to rely on anymore he was a more appropriate age to handle it. Lissa though she never was, her father had never been there for her and in turn her mother left her. That was a cruel thing to think about, and it resulted in Ricky wondering just what could drive a person to act in such a manner.

Love was a complicated manner when it came to family, maybe she just didn't feel like she could raise the daughter by herself. Or maybe she wanted to find the father, whoever this man turned out to be. With the brief summary on the old sketch he figured that the man likely didn't want anything to do with a family, or that he may have not known that Lissa was born if he were a traveling sort. Either way he truly felt for Lissa, such a fate was cruel and unfitting for one so young such as her. Yet upon her mentioning of a name his practice with the strings grounded to a dead halt as his eyes would fly up from the lute towards the space before him. Burten Maze.

What. De. Petch. That name. There was no way in Mizahar that another one could exist with that name, nobody would dare to pretend their this person either. Because for one Burten wasn't anybody worth impersonating nor knowing for that matter, yet this man who was apparently was the father of Lissa was also... father of Ricky? It didn't make sense, but the lineage was quite clear to him now. Me Pa... is 'er Pa? He nearly cringed at the sudden realization, a sharp grind of his teeth led him to take the revelation in as he started to think about how all this was possible. Burten.... he did have trips that he had to go onto, and there was a time or two where Ricky went along, yet for the chances to have more children.... it was possible but at the same time it didn't make sense, Burten was solely focused on raising Ricky since his own birth.

So then how? How did his the man in that sketch come to resemble his father, how did this girl know of the name that could only fit the person who raised him. It didn't make sense. Ricky finally turned to face her, the resemblances of her mother present to be sure but the instances of his father, he had to find whatever traces were possible in order to be sure. This would be the first time he would look a stranger in the eyes, dead on in the eyes no less, as he tried to see what connections he could see. They resembled the same stare of course, even if she would be unnerved by it. There was a soul, a deep soulful look in her eyes that could only be inherited from the same man that would be his father. How? How in the world did she have that same stare? This made little sense for Ricky to grasp at, but he knew good and well that the facts all led up to it.

Even if the facts were few there wasn't any denying the possibility, and seeing as how he knew the truth he might as well go ahead and accept that possibility as reality. However astonishing it may come across. "Yer Pa traveled a lot den, an' he looks a lot like a man Oi once knew." His eyes faltered from her for a second, the stare soon changed to a sincere look as he shared with her the outcome of his father and in turn the conclusion of what he'd put together. "Oi 'ad a Pa dat traveled off an on when needed, t'ough he's dead now because Oi couldn't save 'im. Oi t'ink t'ough dat he..." He swallowed hard before he said these next words. "Oi t'ink yew 're 'is daughter now, cause de only man Oi know t' 'ave dat name is the man who was also me fat'er. Burten Maze." There would be a moment spared for her to allow it to sink in, and surely enough if Lissa were to make the connection then she would know, that what Ricky just said was something that would probably seem completely farfetched at first. And that was the realization that they were both brother and sisters.

[Lissa Maze]

Lissa Maze OOCSO MANY APOLOGIES. My internet has been essentially down for the past four days—my dad tried to fix something and it’s been out for almost all of each day. I don’t understand these things but it’s finally working again. I have a reply that I’d written off-site and it’s been ready to go for a few days. Ack. Sorry. It’s not perfect because I wanted to check parts of the posts before but at this point, just need to post it. Might not be on much today, big sister visited and ended up nastily sick so I’m trying to cheer her up. Lissa winced slightly at the realization that she'd tread on this man's memories. He was clearly closing the subject of the past. Luckily the conversation moved on quickly and she was able to avoid what seemed like a painful memory for the Zeltivan. That meant, of course, that they had moved on to her least favorite memories. He was clearly sympathetic, which somehow did not help her. She didn’t want sympathy. She wanted to be rid of it. It had been seasons and seasons since Lissa had wished for her mother to come back for more than a quick moment’s time. It wasn’t that Lissa was an unfeeling person—but her mother didn’t really deserve to be missed that much. It had been more than the past eight years since Lissa’d had a remotely interested or caring mother. She didn’t mind her life since then. It had really gotten better; the orphanage had been full of caring, attentive people. It had been an odd change, but certainly not a bad one. Now she was grown up and ready to be on her own. Sort of. Something changed when she said her father’s name, something strong enough that Lissa stopped, trying to study his face. Why such a reaction? She didn’t know him—either ‘him’, this Ricky or her father—and it made it harder to read his face. The girl soon gave up, but she still felt…skittish. Nervous. As if something had happened right in front of her without her knowledge, which in fact it had. Lissa looked away from the other, glancing towards the crowd around the buskers as her mind wandered. They seemed to be finishing a performance, and the crowd was starting to disperse…and as another song began, her head jerked, surprise overcoming the girl. Her eyes might have shown mistrust, if such an emotion may be read in eyes; she was clearly surprised-and uncertain-about something that had just transpired. He knew the name Burten Maze, and he thought her father looked familiar. If a face and a name were both right…it must be the right person. He knew her father. She felt a wave of anger at him, for knowing the man she had every right to know, when he had no right—no right to know him instead of her. Lissa had spent her whole life convinced that she didn’t need the mysterious Burten Maze. He’d left; he was probably just a regular person, a boring person, nothing like the stories she created to replace him. He was the kind of person who knew about a daughter and did nothing but send a letter after fifteen years. That had to say enough about him. Despite her long-held conviction on this matter, the girl wasn’t comfortable with it. Something was going on, something this man knew that she didn’t. Something about the father she’d (metaphorically—she hated the expression) written off long ago. And that, despite her best efforts, got to her. Lissa looked up again and found herself met by an intent stare. She was surprised, but met it, looking directly back at him, trying, again, to read him. What was he looking for in her, she wondered, and shortly after he told her. And her mind seemed to shut down for a few seconds, a day, a season—however long it was that she didn’t understand. Father. Brother. Ricky. Burten. Her hands reaching into her pocket and, numbly, the girl took out the thinning, folded piece of paper. Covered with those meaningless symbols she couldn’t understand, it mocked her. A detached corner of Lissa’s mind shrugged. It shouldn’t shock her so. The right name, the right city. The right age. Has a son. Fits all described in the letter, reacted to her father—their father—Burten Maze’s name. That part of her was silenced, though, and quickly. She finally looked back at Ricky, confusion showing plainly on her face. “My brother,” she finally said, quietly, handing him the letter. “You’re that Ricky.” It was still sinking in, overwhelming the sixteen-year-old. She didn’t seem to notice that she was shaking slightly as she said it. “You’re my brother.”

[Ricky Maze]

oocNo worries! Shit happens mate. It was a good post all the same too, hopefully RL starts easing up a little eh?

There was just something there, something they both indiscriminately knew about the same person, and yet they both found it difficult to comprehend such a fact that it was in fact that same man. Father. Fisherman. Sailor. These were just a few words that easily described what Burten was, but to discover that he had fathered more children in this world? Shocking to be sure, yet even if such revelation was ever so grandeur, there was a deep profound sense of doubt that denied such a trifle could ever truly occur. Yet Ricky couldn't deny it now, he knew and she too knew. They had to be siblings in this case, and even when the powerful thrust of realization washed over her face, she too had yet another thing that would all the more confirm what exactly made their lineage possible.

A note. More importantly a letter that had to belong to her, and upon reading it the first name was in fact addressed to Lissa. Ricky had to see for himself what exactly his father, their father, had to say to her. He had to know. When did Burten learn of her existence? Why didn't he mention her to Ricky? Why didn't he even bring her home with him? There was something beneath it all that stirred, something that made even every questionable wonder seem petty in regards to his father. Did Ricky truly know who his own dad was? There was a time where he would've believed it, that is until the period in which he believed Burten to have been dead. Yet if that was the case then surely... no. Lissa said she was sixteen, and Burten had been gone for eight years. So it was before his father went missing, before Ricky himself came to the age of manhood and lived on his own.

Son o' a bitch... Burten wasn't able to approach her. Why? What reason did their father have for never facing his daughter? He was... is her father. Yet he felt feelings for Lissa's mother, feelings that he hadn't felt since... Ricky's own birth. That felt painful for him to read, to think that he was not only the cause of his mother's death, but in turn the heartbreak that was brought on his own father. How Burten was able to take him in and raise him... that made Ricky truly wonder if his father had such a good spirit. Did the thought to leave Ricky on someone else's doorstep ever occur? Did he even want Ricky after losing the woman he loved? There were questions, questions that brought heartbreaking insecurities to the fisherman's attention. Yet he read on, he had to know more. The mention of Ricky came next, a fitting example of a family figure or so he claimed. Was that because his father knew Ricky was expecting a child at the time? Did Burten believe Ricky to be a good father? Damn him. Damn these questions. There was still half a letter he had to read.

What's this then? He knew his time was coming? Somehow Burten predicted that he was going to die, did he believe it was to happen the day Ricky went with Hannah to help her instead? Was he intent to set that up on purpose, to see if Ricky would side with him instead of her? No... how could he? Burten insisted Ricky to go with Hannah, but if he did that and knew he was dying soon... then why didn't he find some way to stop it? Why did he allow himself to die so quickly? There was a few more things Burten mentioned about Ricky, things that he gave little care to pride himself in. Sure he was strong and independent to a fault, but in turn he himself denied that he was such a capable individual. His father was too proud of him, too firm in the silly belief that his son could truly be such a person. But what was this then?... something about a family curse? Doomed to suffer tragedy after tragedy? Ricky's eyebrows rose and then furrowed as he tried to comprehend this, the idea farfetched to grasp at first but somehow slightly believable in the end.

A curse on our family? Dat explains all de shyke Oi've been t'rough den. He mused at best as he continued to read on, pretty sure that he found this section of the letter insane by now. At that point however the rest was practically the same, even the form of writing reminded Ricky of his father as he went on about family and how it came first above all. Yet... there was just something Ricky found hypocritical about it. If family was first for his father, then why didn't he bring his other child home with him? Why didn't he see to it that Lissa, or anything other bastard child of his for the matter, was brought home to Zeltiva? There was something he hadn't the ability to figure out and it only led to disturb him nonetheless, deep down he felt upset about reading it as he handed the letter back over to Lissa with ease. "Aye. He mentions me aight, even admits yer 'is daughter..." He wasn't sure how he should feel about it, should he be excited to hear it? Should he... apologize to her? Tell her he's there for her? He didn't even know her, yet even so she was his younger sister he never knew about.

"Oi... Oi'm sorry, Oi..." There was a momentary chuckle when he spoke, his lost stare at the ground then redirect towards her as he gave a sincere look. "Oi dunno what t' say. Oi've always wanted a brot'er or sister but... never t'ought it'd actually 'ave 'appened." What was he saying?! He had to get a grip of himself, this girl was his sister. "Oi mean! Don't git me wrong, Oi ain't upset in learnin' yew 're dat sister! Oi just, Oi t'ought if it ever were t' 'appen it would'a been under different circumstances." Clearly his father had a LOT of explaining to do... only the trouble was: He's dead! So how exactly did one learn secrets from a dead man? Plain and simple you didn't, at least not without the 'right' people that can be around. Ricky would have to try and see if he could find anybody who would be able to help him when he got home. For now though... he had a sister to get to know, and he already understood some of her pain through the torment of their pasts.

"Listen. Oi know me, Oi mean, our Pa said yew could count on me. He isn't entirely wrong on dat regard eit'er, seein' as 'ow Oi do care fer me family. So," He then offered her a small but humble smile, "given de fact we just met Oi'm 'ere fer ya. As yer older brot'er it be me obligation t' 'elp ya out any way Oi can."

[Lissa Maze]

Lissa Maze Questions swirled through Lissa’s mind as she let the man—Ricky—her brother---she let…let him read the letter. The letter from her father, who was his father, and therefore their father. The concept was still a strange one, and the words strange still. Something in the girl’s mind was vaguely disappointed, at the sudden solidity of Burten Maze. She knew what he said in a letter, and what her mother had known. Combined, that made maybe a handful of a person, if that. It left room for…interpretation. Creativity. It left room for her to imagine what she liked, and ignore the uncomfortable truths. For the biggest fact she knew about her father was that he’d known about her—proven by the petching letter—and hadn’t done anything. Writing, in her mind, simply didn’t count. She didn’t care about it, as she had convinced herself over the years. But now there was something—someone—someone solid. Someone alive and real who’d been described in a letter and, worse, who knew the man she’d written off. She wasn’t sure that she was a very good judge of people, but to Lissa’s eyes he cared about Burten Maze quite a lot. And…she thought back to earlier in the conversation. She wasn’t sure, but she thought that the letter-writer had been right. Ricky had been vague but seemed to say that the man who looked like her father, who had turned out to be[/b] her father, was gone. Lissa wasn’t sure how she felt about it, or if she felt about it, yet. Ricky seemed to be frazzled by her. He was rather funny, in fact, tripping and tangling his words around themselves. She had to smile. He seemed more confused than her, and she was…confused. She couldn’t think of a better word, but she wished for one that made confused look tiny. ”No, it’s…it’s alright,” she heard herself saying. ”It’s kind of odd for me to. I mean, I wanted another—I wanted a sibling all my life. And I guess that two seasons ago, I found out I had one. More than one. He says I’m his younger daughter. That means at least another daughter, right? Maybe one of them is sorta…my age,” she mumbled, wistful. And then realized that she’d messed up more than him. ”No! I mean, I’m…it’s very nice to, er, meet you. I guess I never quite believed what folks said was written there.” Oh, [i]shyke—a grown-up brother didn’t need to know that his little sister was…ignorant! Couldn’t read! Didn’t know the word for couldn’t read! ”But, it’s…it’s real nice to have a real brother, not a paper one.” She listened to what he said about family, and the small smile on her face changed. Formerly faint amusement at their mutual inability to form a good sentence, it became…happy. Cared for family? He had a baby! She had a…a nephew! A half-nephew? No. At some distances the half could get erased, since it was far enough anyways. She could meet him. Or not. Or maybe Ricky was just saying these things because he was supposed to, but Lissa didn’t believe it. It wouldn’t work if that were true—though what “it” was and why it should work, she didn’t know. She sat for a moment, just listening, letting herself absorb the change. ”so, what do we do now?” She certainly didn’t know.