Same day delivery

Ruth snorted, a short, dry sound that didn’t quite match the tension in his body. For someone who smokes so much elfroot, she is remarkably wise. He rolled his eyes upward, as though Megara’s knack for having the right words at the worst times were a cosmic joke. The attempt at humor barely carried, but it was something.

His gaze flickered back to Kellam, scrutinizing him for a moment before he spoke again.
How to… he hesitated, the word sticking like a splinter in his throat. Parent? The hollow laugh that followed was sharp, bitter, and self-deprecating. If he dwelt on it, Megara had stepped into that role… but there had been someone before her. Amara. She was always better at it. At least from what I remember.

Ruth shifted uncomfortably, the bark digging into his back as he leaned further against the trunk, using it for support. The idea of Kellam parenting felt foreign, alien, almost. Not wrong, but like something out of place, a picture tilted just slightly off-center. His memories of his father were a collection of sharp edges, harsh words and beatings, not soft corners and gentle words.

The surprise of not being immediately scolded or dragged back to the infirmary was... unsettling. Ruth studied Kellam’s face again, searching for a crack, a tell, a reason to pull back before something inevitably blew up in his face. So... what are you here for? His voice carried an edge, suspicion curling around the question like barbed wire. Whatever this was, Ruth doubted it was about him. It was easier to assume it wasn’t, to brace for disappointment rather than risk hope.

He let the question hang in the air, watching Kellam carefully, his narrowed gaze a shield as much as a challenge. Not here to lecture, not here to fix anything... What’s left?

Ruth’s gaze dropped, his fingers toying absently with the forgotten cigarette in his lap. The suspicion softened for a moment, overtaken by something rawer, something he rarely let surface. You know what’s funny? I’ve gotten pretty good at knowing when someone’s about to leave. Or fuck me over. There’s a look, or a tone, or just... something in the way they breathe. And it always comes. Like clockwork. He let out a shaky exhale, his voice quieter now, stripped of its usual sharpness. I stopped asking why a long time ago. Stopped trying to figure out if it was something I did, or just... who I am. It’s just easier to expect it, you know? That way, it doesn’t hurt so much when it happens. He gave a hollow chuckle, but there was no humor in it, only a brittle sort of acceptance. So, yeah... forgive me if I’m a little suspicious of what you’re doing here.

@Kellam Yoesif