Funeral of Hearts

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.