priorcommitment | if they only knew how thin the ice they walk on is

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trixa iktomi

if they only knew how thin the ice they walk on is

As often as Ishiah had once berated Robin for not knowing his own limits and being reticent about asking others for help, the peri often fell into similar habits himself. There was a touch less self-awareness, of course. Robin Goodfellow knew very well when something was too much for him, and ran just about as often from life and his troubles— Ishiah, on the other hand, was precisely the opposite, convinced that he could handle himself and all of the responsibilities foisted onto him, until all at once it became too much and left him floundering with no way to break the surface of the water.

Those days, the problem was Caliban.

Perhaps that wasn't the best way to describe it. Caliban wasn't, after all, a problem in of himself. The island had removed the most practical concern that the once half-Auphe brought about with him, and sharp though his tongue could sometimes be, for the most part he was as decently well-behaved as someone in his position could be. Niko had done a miracle of a job, raising a child with an X written on the back of his head, with the worst melting pot of genes imaginable, into a young man who knew how to respect. The average American parents couldn't even say that much.

But the point was, however well Caliban had been brought up under the hands of his guardian, Ishiah wasn't well-equipped to take that man's place. When peri came to Ishiah, he knew precisely where they'd been, the lives they once knew, and could retrace his own steps well enough to be as helpful as could be. This was different.

This had him waiting on Trixa Iktomi's doorstep, brow furrowed in thought. He knocked on the door.

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"S'Open."

Standing at her miniature still, Trixa looked over at the closed door, wondering who had come by to darken her doorstep. She wasn't exactly expecting anyone at the moment, but with Freddie having his issues over those three little words he was or wasn't saying or taking back or whatever the hell was going on with him she wouldn't be half surprised if her neighbor was in need of a drink. And since she was closer than the bar... if it was Freddie, he'd be in luck. Trixa was straining the berries and fruit pulp out of the last batch of vodka, finally, she'd hit on a mix of fruit and herbs that didn't taste cloyingly sweet, but still cut the acid-like burn her home brew tended to have.

She was oddly proud of the accomplishment, too, never having been one to make for herself what she could con, borrow, or steal out of others and she had to admit, part of her was looking forward to sharing. Even if her favorite drinking partners from home weren't here to share it with her.

...Ye, Gods, what kind of Trickster was she becoming? Making things, missing friends, getting settled? Her Mama would kick her ass and laugh doing it, but Trixa didn't feel like she had any other options. She was good and trapped in this place, she hated it, but damn if she wasn't trying to make the best of it.

"Shit." Concentration wavering, she'd managed to spill the alcohol, a fragrant puddle pooling on her table. Looking about, she started to set the beaker of half-strained liquor aside so she could wipe it up, hoping that Freddie, or whoever it was, was capable of opening the damn door themselves.

Edited 2011-04-09 00:23 (UTC)

Ishiah stepped lightly into the hut as soon as he was invited, the bit of hesitation always reserved for her in case Trixa wasn't in the mood to see him— something that was not uncommon between tricksters and peri, the two being vastly different in habits, in morals, even in humor. Of course, as far as shining examples of peri and tricksters went, Ishiah and Trixa both were a bit unusual, and only further humanized (in a way) by Tabula Rasa itself. Where a friendship would have been strained before, those days Ishiah felt that Trixa was very near the best friend that he had on the island, and certainly the only person he could be completely earnest and honest with.

His gaze upon the alcohol spilling toward the edge of the table, and his brow raised lightly as he walked on over, his head turning about to search for any sort of cloth available to help mop up the liquid before it dripped to the floor. Unfortunately, it was a bit difficult to tell what he was allowed to use, and what he wasn't. And Ishiah wasn't keen on soiling his shirt.

"Need any help?" he asked instead, staring at the liquid with a raised brow.

"Nah." Trixa kept casting about for something to clean up with and finally cursed silently. "Actually, yeah, can you hold this?" She motioned to the beaker in her hand.

This was her home - at least until she got a separate room for the still - and she needed to keep it as clean as possible. She was particular about her home space, it was the place she could decompress in, where she had no illusions to maintain, no attitude to keep. She was redecorating, there were scarves hung about and she'd moved the furniture about half a dozen times - it was Home. She didn't want it to smell because she left some fermenting berries under the table.

"What's up, buy the way? Wasn't expecting to see you."

Without a word, Ishiah immediately stepped up to take the beaker into his hands, holding it carefully and trying to keep any of the liquid from dipping further. It didn't take a whiff to figure out what it was by color and container alone, and the peri even managed a brow quirked in amusement as he looked down into the glass, wondering how much time Trixa must have put into the process, into perfecting it. Tricksters were, almost as a rule, clever and quick to pick up on new skills, not hindered in the least by the fact that most of them had lived an impossibly long time. While standing there, he allowed himself to look through the rest of the hut, where small changes had been made here and there since his last visit.

It looked like she was settling in. And Ishiah wasn't sure how to feel about that.

"Niko disappeared from the island," Ishiah said, half-distracted. "I wanted you to know that, first. I wasn't sure if anyone had told you, or if you'd noticed on your own."

"Did he?" Trixa didn't have any surprise in her voice, although she'd suspected, she hadn't been sure, but still. Poker faces all around. She kept an eye out for the younger Leandros and since the elder was usually close, she'd noted the absence. Still, it was nice to have confirmation from her point of view, one less thing to worry about.

Even if it did bring up memories and feelings she'd been trying hard to get rid of. She'd lost a brother after all, she knew the sudden vacuum that appeared, the instinct to keep looking over one's shoulder only to find that no one was there. It was an ache that never went away and she felt for the kid.

She quickly finished wiping up the mess and took the beaker back from Ishiah, trying to finish straining the liquid so she could talk to her friend without the distraction.

"How you holding up? I know you're close to them."

Practically, Ishiah shook his head. "Not entirely true, Trixa. Niko was... a friend, I would say, toward the end of his time here on the island. But back in Manhattan, he'd always been slightly suspicious of me, kept me at a distance. I don't blame him. There, it was the smart thing to do, given a contact reticent to offer any details about himself," he considered quietly, staring down at his suddenly empty hands and reaching out for the cloth Trixa had left behind, drying his hands off on a clean corner. "Caliban has always been the brother I've been closer to, in a manner of speaking. But..."

He sat down in an empty chair, hands folded neatly on his lap as he looked up at Trixa.

"But the two of them are meant to be together, have lived their entire lives together. Without Niko's presence around, I'm not entirely sure what should be done about Caliban, and so I suppose I am here to ask, too, whether you've any experience with..." He breathed warily. "Parenting. Figuratively speaking."

And with that, Trixa took a good, long drink of her brew, because if she was going to have a conversation like this? Damn if she was going to have it entirely sober. Parenting advice? From her? That was... well, when she thought about it, it actually did make a kind of sense. She knew she was one of the few people Ishiah'd even consider having this conversation with, and depending on what Zeke had told him..?

Zeke. She took another drink at the memory. Two kids, hiding in the back room. Zeke and Griffin, the two halves to a powerful whole, never to be separated, always together, and needing a home. However self-serving her motives had been, knowing what they were, knowing what they probably would be, the fact remained the same.

"I guess you could say that, sure. I've done some parenting in my time."

She offered the bottle to Ishiah, no reason he should have to stay sober for this, either.

He gave the bottle a brief glance. Human bodies were, perhaps, a great deal more prone to addiction than a peri's had ever been. He could still remember the way that days felt, shortly after Robin's disappearance, all a blur of movement and vertigo. Even over something comparatively small (in that Ishiah was not shaken, though Caliban surely was), the peri felt the temptation to give in. To forget for a time, which his sober self never allowed him to do. But he shook his head, holding up a hand instead, lips pressing together.

"No, thank you," he murmured. "You may have had millions of years to develop a tolerance for avoiding temptation, but I have never had the same."

Instead, he turned around and folded his arms neatly on the table, thumbs brushing along his fingers before turning a careful look over to Trixa, to the sudden need she had to drink. "I don't know... what to do with a personality as stubborn as Caliban's. Peri can be difficult shortly after transformation, but all are similar. None quite so volatile as he is, or quite as self-loathing."

Trixa paused a moment before moving to a chair and straddling it, still holding the bottle and watching the liquid swirl and slosh about. She wasn't sure what to say, Caliban wasn't Zeke, their attitudes, while somewhat similar, were fed by different problems. Zeke's coming from not being equipped to deal with free will and Caliban's... well, she wasn't exactly sure what a half-Auphe's laundry list of problems could be. But she wagered it could be pretty long.

So maybe she should start at the beginning. "Self-loathing? How so?" She wasn't Dr. Phil, but self-loathing was usually the root of many evils and there was probably good reason for it.

Edited 2011-04-17 20:16 (UTC)

Ishiah knew that Trixa was unusual, for a trickster. Not as much in the sense that she had learned to settle down over time— as far as Ishiah was aware, that tendency was one which was cropping up increasingly over the years for tricksters, as human society stretched its vines all across the globe, and it became harder to fall unnoticed under the radar. (Conversely, many tricksters simply couldn't bear to ignore the draw, the appeal of having so many subjects to tease and throw about.) Instead, what set Trixa far apart from any other trickster Ishiah had known, indeed including Robin himself, was that she had taken two young peri under her wing and watched them grow. While Ishiah didn't want to assume that she saw it as parenting as much as he did, as much as Zeke had, it made her the ideal contact for discussing the matter of Caliban.

He was grateful that she didn't simply turn him away.

"As you are aware, I'm sure, Caliban is half-Auphe," Ishiah began, chin slightly raised. "His mother, too, was no shining example of a parental figure. Yet he has, for the most part, turned out admirably as a person, thanks to the presence of his older brother in his life. But as a result, Caliban feels that he is a negative burden on Niko, to the point where he is now claiming to be happy at there even being the chance that Niko might be out there without him, unsaddled by this weight. On a practical level, there is no reason to change these thoughts. But I want... for Caliban to be happy."

It took Trixa a moment to answer, caught as she was by the similarities she suddenly noticed. Zeke and Caliban were very different, but that feeling of guilt was striking. She knew that Zeke sometimes felt a burden to the rest of them, Griffin in particular. His nature had been as dangerous in its way as Caliban's was to his. And Caliban's nature? True, it wasn't an issue here but she still flinched inwardly every time she thought about it.

Fucking Auphe. The only things in the world that seriously scared her and here was someone asking her how to help one. A half-one. Whatever.

"I think, and this is a guess, that first, there's no way in hell he's actually happy. Relieved maybe, a little pleased, but sure as hell not happy. And second, given his..." How to say it? "His lineage, there's a huge potential for destructiveness."

She set the bottle aside, standing at the table for a moment to collect her thoughts. "There is no pain, none, that compares to losing a brother. So he might claim to be happy, but he's not." Turning back, she looked at Ishiah with a slightly worried expression on her face. "But you already know that, don't you?"

The question was vague enough that it could have been referring to any number of things. The fact that, for instance, Ishiah had taken up more of a paternal role than he ever had before with Caliban, an unusual bond between peri and man that was hardly natural or easy considering their dispositions. But what Ishiah saw immediately, almost a flicker through his peripheral vision, was a sheet of red. Copper, more accurately, the strands thin and fine, but matted with blood. Most days, Ishiah didn't think immediately of Cambriel anymore.

But when he did, the emotions hit to the heart fairly quick.

"I've... lost a number of brothers over time," Ishiah considered slowly, his eyes wandering off and focusing in the distance. "Maybe that makes it different. I've never had the one person, the singular bastion of support. It's always been a wide net, and for a long time the loss of any individual was a risk we were expected to simply bear. Cambriel was the first where it..."

His voice drifted off, dissolved into a deep inhale. "Of course he isn't truly happy, and unless Niko returns, he may never be in the same capacity. But discontent doesn't need to be actively dwelt upon."

"No it doesn't, but if it's repressed it can have some nasty consequences. Is he the type to lash out?"

She had the feeling he was. Auphe or no, she'd noted he had attitude to spare and a lifetime of those genes working on him had to have some effect, even if it was just psychological. And that worried her. If he was a powder keg and Ishiah was volunteering to sit on it? That could get ugly.

"Is there some way you can get him to work it out? I doubt he's the therapy type, but there's gotta be something."

"I often wonder if he is. I have to say, he hasn't lashed out as often or as deeply on the island as he occasionally did back in Manhattan, which leads me to wonder if it's the change in lifestyle, if it's the perceived difference in self, or if it's related to the physical changes altogether," Ishiah went on, readily talking about the details he'd considered for years, ever since meeting Caliban. Never before had the world seen a half-Auphe, after all. There was only so much they could assume.

His lips pressed more firmly together. "But he is impulsive, and incredibly stubborn. I think he may have only become more so, since meeting Robin, who has a tendency to rub off on those around him," he went on.

"Yeah, Robin likes to rub himself off all over the place alright."

She gave him a joking nudge and a little bit of a leer. It was hard not to, given an opportunity like that. The puck was, well, a puck after all. Such comments pretty much made themselves in her opinion. And experience, too, for what it was worth.

Fucking pantries, man. Who would've thought?

Still she kept her expression somewhat in check, it was a serious worry Ishiah had. And the longer she thought about it, it was a worry she'd have, too, if both Griffin and Zeke had been here and suddenly one of them wasn't.

"Then there's not much I can see for you to do, Ishiah. If he's that stubborn, he's not going to ask for help, even if he needs it. You're just going to have to watch him. Hope that when he needs help, you'll be there to give it... if the kid wants it or not."

Edited 2011-05-02 03:35 (UTC)

"He did, once," Ishiah replied, and had his wings still been functional on the island, they might have stirred into vision just then. Regardless of the fact that he knew Robin would always physically enjoy and even need intimacy of that sort, thinking about it certainly didn't please the peri. "But his interests came to narrow over time, as you were made well aware. As most of Manhattan was made well aware."

Exhaling shortly, the peri shook his head lightly, dislodging thoughts of Robin that were sure to go nowhere (there wasn't a way to bring the puck to the island by choice, after all). Caliban was of greater importance just then.

"But how do I know when he needs help?" he asked quietly, stormy blue eyes more muted in color as he peeked over at Trixa. "When is it simply trying to endure, and when does one need to step in?"

"You have to- hell." Running fingers through her hair, she sighed and closed her own eyes. "It's not a science, Ishiah, you're not going to be able to just measure his scowl and know. You gotta... feel it out."

She thought back to Zeke, the way the very air would feel like it changed around him before he burst into violence. The way she could see it in Griffin's eyes. All the subtle signs collected and analyzed in seconds the way only someone who's known what to look for from years of experience. How does someone learn that except through bitter, bitter experience.

"Watch him, be there for him, and if he looks like he's going to hurt himself, do something. The rest... just gets played by ear. It's pretty much the basis of all parenting. Fake it 'til you make it."

The basis of all parenting, Ishiah thought to himself, eyes roving from side to side as he wonder just how much confusion God had throughout all of it, building order into the word, overseeing it from above. Lips parting, almost as though to speak, Ishiah only closed them again as he ran a hand through his hair, frustrated over how unhelpful (insightful though it was) Trixa's advice turned out to be. There was a great deal to be learned from experience, and even more to be said for adaptability, Ishiah knew, but he knew doubly that he wasn't precisely the best person to turn to for either.

That he had already advanced so far was saying something, and that had been over the course of millennia.

"Clearly, you're much better at it than I am," Ishiah said softly. "I suppose I've been around Caliban long enough to see when something is out of the ordinary. Guiding him without some level of retaliation, inward or otherwise, will be another issue entirely."

"Retaliation?" Trixa snorted, if Ishiah couldn't handle a petulant human male... well, he was a peri, even if he had been around humans for as long as he had been, so maybe a little awkwardness was to be expected. Still, she kinda felt for him.

"I don't think it will come to that, will it? Kid didn't seem that unhinged to me."

"Not physically; I don't think there's anything I could do around here that would trigger such a response from him," Ishiah shook his head, waving his hand dismissively; even if Caliban did decide to throw a punch or two, the peri couldn't imagine that he would have too much trouble settling such a fight.

"More that he puts up so much resistance. Actually, some time ago, the bookshelf offered me a slew of books about how to raise children. Out of curiosity, I flipped through a couple and they didn't seem too far off," he considered.

"Maybe he's just a stubborn male. He's not going to talk about his feelings, and if you ask he'll push away?"

Taking a final swig from her bottle, she set it aside with a heavy sigh, uncertain what else she could offer her old friend. Yes, she had experience with kids, but it was limited. And Zeke and Griffin hadn't been your ordinary strays. None of the kids she protected, moved to safehouses, sent to new, supernaturally-friendly families were exactly normal.

"There's no one right answer. You're going to have to play it by ear."

"A lot of help you've been," Ishiah joked, after a moment's pause, before allowing himself to close his eyes. Though he was weary, in some ways, Trixa had still provided exactly what he needed. Directions too clear, too strict, he would have followed to the letter; on the other hand, being told that he wouldn't be able to predict every step along the way left him no excuse. He needed to be able to adapt on his own, better learn Caliban's idiosyncrasies.

He rubbed his fingers against his forehead, working out the wrinkles there.

"My hair is likely going to start going gray any moment now," he said lightly. "Perhaps that'll give me a more authoritarian air."

"If it makes you feel any better, it'll be hard to see in all that blonde." She waved at his head with something of a resigned sigh. Any gray hairs on her head will stand out like a... gray hair in a sea of dark. Shit. She might actually be here long enough to age. Moving restlessly, she absently started re-arranging a few things as her mind traced back. How long had she been here? Almost a year, minus a month or two, wasn't it? And all that time...

"I'm not going anywhere." It was part a reminder to Ishiah that she was his friend in this place, that whatever happened with Cal, if he didn't want to deal with it alone, he didn't have to. But mostly, it was a comment on her situation. She wasn't going anywhere. Even if she wanted to.

"I know," he said quietly, his tone sobered. He was under no false impressions, knew that as soon as the two of them returned to their world, it was likely that their friendship would grow thin. Certainly, all signs suggested that they wouldn't even retain memories of Tabula Rasa at all. But the island was its own world, its own place, and it had changed the situation enough that Trixa had become one of Ishiah's closest friends.

He didn't mind that.

"And I think gray might suit you. With your luck, it'll come in pleasant streaks," Ishiah joked, a corner of his lips raising.

"Alright, that's it, featherbrain. You. Out." Smiling, she chucked the liquor-soaked rag at Ishiah's head. Not with any accuracy, just in his general, head-like direction. Obviously, the serious part of the conversation was over and while she enjoyed a good joke, Trixa didn't necessarily want it at her expense.

"Or I won't supply you with anymore free alcohol." Which was somewhat counter-intuitive when she was holding out a small bottle for him to take with him.

He allowed himself a small smile, nearly a laugh, as he caught the sodden rag in a hand and gave it a slight wrinkle of his nose. Fought the impulse to immediately find a pitcher of water to rinse his hand off with. But instead, with a softer smile, he handed it back over to Trixa, expression fond.

"I'm in the habit of being brutally honest, so I've heard," he remarked in turn, before taking the bottle she offered in turn, running over its surface with a calloused thumb. Nodding his approval, he added, "Thank you, Trixa. Truly."

"Brutally honest, huh. Guess that's a word for it." She took the rag back and tossed it on the table. She was a neat person by preference, but she didn't mind the occasional mess.

She watched him with the bottle, almost studying it, wondering what was going on in that peri-head of his. Had she said the right things? She wasn't sure if she had, but she'd been as honest as she could have been and she figured that had to be good enough. So when he thanked her, she nodded.

"Anytime, gotta stick together all of us, right?" Solidarity. Some of her favorite friendships had started that way.

Strangely, the more Ishiah thought about it, the more ways in which he could see himself being categorized in the same group as Trixa. Once, they were immortals. Once, they had fought in a war to create a safe grounds, where any creature could stay without fear of persecution. Now, they were only three out of an entire world that had made it to Tabula Rasa, three of a group that used to be twice that size. And although their circles of friends did not entirely overlap, there was that bond that tied them together as well.

"Whether we need to or not, I'm sure we'll stick together regardless," he said at last, raising the glass again in thanks as he made his way over to the hut's entrance. "If there's anything you need, you know where to find me, Trixa."

"Sure do, neighbor." And it was reassuring to a point. The way her regular patrons were, the way her bar was. That little piece of home, wherever it was, wherever it went, there it was. As constant as anything in her life could be.

"Don't drink all that in one place. Better yet, share it with the kid. Get drunk together, see what happens. Maybe you'll get some of those answers you want."

The remark had just enough suggestion that Ishiah found his brow furrowing even as he left the hut, hoping that Trixa hadn't meant to insinuate what Robin no doubt would have enjoyed doing. But he didn't make too much of a fuss over it— tricksters would be tricksters, overturning earth wherever they went, whether in big ways or small.

But he did manage a small wave as he crossed the space between her hut and his own.

"I'm not sure I'll ever find the answers I want at the bottom of a bottle," he said to himself.

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if they only knew how thin the ice they walk on is

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