Nairn sighed at the boy, and reminded himself, Haulean was just a boy. Barely grown. A child he'd raised since the age of six, watched grow into a young man. Delicate, more delicate than Nairn liked in his urchins but... he never tried to harden the ones who were more gentle. There was something about the gentle-souled children that the man appreciated.
The C's wizard. Simple, to the point. The boy had a right to know, he was in this too. The words were sharp, though not directed at Haulean. Eventually, Nairn was reading aloud with his son curled against him. And while he did not cuddle the child as another might, there was comfort in the fact he didn't shove the boy off of him.
Eventually, they ran out of letters to read. And Nairn rested his chin atop Haulean's head, steadily breathing, as he let his gaze fix ahead, hands in his lap. Silence, for a while, before he grew tired of the child's sobbing.
Haulean. His voice was soft, Count to ten, out loud, with me. He counted, slow and steady, and when they reached ten, he held up a hand. Inhale. Exhale... His plan was to lure his son into calming down; meditating, using Nairn's own breathing and heart-rate to gather himself.
It was certainly a shock to know the identity of the one that wanted to hurt Nairn. It didn't make any sense... Nairn was the best thing to ever happen to the Coterie, as far as Haulean was concerned. Maybe he was a little biased. But really, even without knowing their blood ties, he'd felt that way. So why was someone after him? He'd have to unpack that later, and not pester Nairn with asking stupid questions like 'how do you know'? and 'why?' because... well now really wasn't the time, plus he trusted the older male implicitly. If he said someone was after him, they were.
The letter-readings were an emotional whirlwind for little Haulean. At times he wept hard, others he was borderline lulled asleep with just the barest trickle of tears. Under less distressing circumstances, Haulean might've been a bit sheepish at the hard documentation of literally every time he'd snuck out of the Coterie to visit her over the years. Nairn maaaaaaay or may not have been aware of a good few of those visits.
However. The more recent the letters got in his mother's timeline, the harder it was to contain himself. She'd known she was going to die, and had kept it from him. She'd been making preparations for quite some time. So yes, by the end, the boy was once again utterly distraught, however much he tried to reel it in. Even after Nairn had stopped reading, he clung and wept into his chest, until his name was spoken, and he was bade to count.
This would not have been the first time they had done something like this, and Haulean trusted in the process... and of course, in... his father. Obediently, the boy began to count along with him, as best as his ragged and broken breaths would allow. Then came the breathing. No protests came from Haulean. He continued to obey, as he cuddled into Nairn and rested his cheek against his chest, as he had so many times before. In.... out... in... out... Over time, he settled down. And boy did his head ache. But he took solace in the warmth of Nairn's lap, and the sound of his voice and heart. Some might've found the sound of the latter unsettling, but it long since become a sound of comfort to the boy.
He'd even fallen back on an old habit of idly toying with a stray lock of Nairn's hair... gently curling it around his finger, playing his thumb over the silken coil for a bit, and unwinding it to just lightly run it through his fingers, always careful not to tug. Over and over, without even thinking about it. There had been times in the past when he might've started braiding it, but not tonight. He hadn't the steadiness or dexterity for it, nor the mindset. Tonight he just wanted the familiar contact.
Once the boy had calmed down, Nairn began to gather the letters one-handed, stacking them carefully. Once that was done, he murmured, C'mon. You'll stay in the guest room, back at the house. It was implied that he'd stay quiet about the news regarding his parentage. We'll just tell Megara your mom's gone. That was all she needed to know, after all.
He'd nudge the boy to stand, and push himself to his feet as well, offering the stacked letters to the boy. You know the way? I'm late for a date. But he wasn't thinking of going to his date; he was thinking of finding Ruth...
The house... yes he knew the way. But. Was that the best idea? Oof. Haulean was too tired to argue. But he stood, when bade, and took the letters. Petite hands clutched the stack of papers like a lifeline, and he couldn't quite bring himself to look up at Nairn just yet. If he did, he was afraid he'd see something that would hurt his heart, and he'd start crying again.
When asked if he knew the way, Haulean nodded hollowly. Yes, he knew the way. "Y-you go on, I'll... go in a bit." he mumbled. "Need to... gather my things. 'N clean up a bit." His face was a mess, and he was bleeding slightly from his lip, his neck, and his palm. Yeah he needed to wash up just a little bit.
"H-have a good... date." Gods this was just weird now. Maybe he shouldn't go to the guest room. Maybe it'd be better if he just stayed right here. Yep. That was what he'd do. As soon as Nairn left, he planned on crawling right back into bed and sleeping til next week. Or next year. Or forever. Yeah... forever sounded nice.
