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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"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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