Of course everyone preferred the Stoner’s cheer filled explanation and tour of the City and it’s amenities. Megara was all to willing to entertain the stupid, answering their remedial questions without a hint of sarcasm. He tried it and got a smack for it. Ruth would never understand why she put up with his antics, his drinking, the verbal abuse he’d hurl her way as he raged at the world.
Weakness was not permitted when dealing with his father, yet Kellam would always find something in his son to gripe about, punish him for. Not once could the younger man recall a time where his father had offered him a kind word. And now here he was, with some of the other elders perched around one end of a kitchen table having tea, with him, the pariah of their clan.
Kettle filled, Ruth’s palm rested against the ceramic to bring the water to temperature. In the few moments he’d relax a little as Kellam agreed the Stoner was preferable company. “I will tell her on her return… but I’m going to stick my neck out and bet you’ll likely deem her unworthy.” He’d place the kettle back into the centre, meeting his father’s stare to make his point. “She’s far better at it than either of us would be. You need to be a people person, and we have… varying degrees of success when it comes to that skill.” Not that Ruth believed his father had that ability at all, but he’d take the jabs when he could.
Yes, the clan, it was always someone else, never the family. The healer's lips pursed, arms folded over his chest while he mulled over their needs. “Mmm, Outside is fine, we have a dormitory, but I doubt they would be ready for you all at such short notice.” Then, at hearing of some being sick and injured, Ruth’s shoulders rolled awkwardly. “That’s an easier thing to remedy. I can tend to them. There with the clan, or here. There are a number of clinic’s set up if they don’t want the hands of the clans ‘disappointment’ up in their business.”
Shaking his head, Ruth picked up a cup and went to find something on the counter.
Weakness was not permitted when dealing with his father, yet Kellam would always find something in his son to gripe about, punish him for. Not once could the younger man recall a time where his father had offered him a kind word. And now here he was, with some of the other elders perched around one end of a kitchen table having tea, with him, the pariah of their clan.
Kettle filled, Ruth’s palm rested against the ceramic to bring the water to temperature. In the few moments he’d relax a little as Kellam agreed the Stoner was preferable company. “I will tell her on her return… but I’m going to stick my neck out and bet you’ll likely deem her unworthy.” He’d place the kettle back into the centre, meeting his father’s stare to make his point. “She’s far better at it than either of us would be. You need to be a people person, and we have… varying degrees of success when it comes to that skill.” Not that Ruth believed his father had that ability at all, but he’d take the jabs when he could.
Yes, the clan, it was always someone else, never the family. The healer's lips pursed, arms folded over his chest while he mulled over their needs. “Mmm, Outside is fine, we have a dormitory, but I doubt they would be ready for you all at such short notice.” Then, at hearing of some being sick and injured, Ruth’s shoulders rolled awkwardly. “That’s an easier thing to remedy. I can tend to them. There with the clan, or here. There are a number of clinic’s set up if they don’t want the hands of the clans ‘disappointment’ up in their business.”
Shaking his head, Ruth picked up a cup and went to find something on the counter.
01-14-2024, 04:16 PM
