On the outside, it might appear that at any moment a duel would ensue. The tension between father and son thickly clung in the air around the gathered elves. If anyone shuffled their feet in awkward silence neither men noticed. After searching the counter Ruth found some cooking wine, hiding how he topped up his mug by looking back over his shoulder. He almost grinned as his father admitted his gratitude, even if it was only surface deep in sentiment, spoken in front of witnesses was a victory in itself.
Yet, as was with their families run of luck, the satisfaction was short lived. Ruth was not heartless, at his core he cared for people. Ridiculed them for their foolishness, but he took his oath as a healer seriously. And then anger gripped him, his eyes narrowed, “You couldn’t keep one from getting injured?” Leaning against the counter the younger man would shake his head, biting his lower lip to stem anything harsher slipping out. After a sigh he nodded again, “Fine. Then I’ll come back with you shortly and do what I can in the immediate.”
Ruth stared for a long minute and then his attention fixed off into the distance. Bobbing a shoulder he tried to quickly count up roughly, though the awkwardness brought on by being asked such a thing, from a man he was supposed to loathe too, had him hesitantly answer. “...A while, I come and go, depending on my work. It has me leaving for weeks at a time, but I stay mostly to repay Megara and her kindness. Don’t tell her I said that.”
Kellam’s jaw tightened at the comment about him not being able to keep one of the Healer’s healthy. As if he chose who came down with sickness or not. Not to mention the hazards they came across trying to get through Orlais and Ferelden unscathed.
You know as well as I do, working with the sick in poor conditions puts them at an even greater risk. It hasn’t exactly been a cake walk getting here. Though it was the safer choice than waiting for the darkspawn to wipe us out in Orlais. Eleven, he thought to himself, eleven fell to the blighted darkspawn before they made it out of Orlais. Not that he needed to explain himself to Ruth of all people. As far as Ruth’s answer to Kellam’s awkward question, he was a bit surprised how detailed Ruth was in answering it. He expected a brush off at best. Which only made it more awkward.
Paranoid whispers flitted through his mind, thinking absurd thoughts, but it was a Tuesday, so when wasn’t he thinking paranoid absurd thoughts. A mental image of Ruth plotting to overthrow Kellam’s leadership of Clan Ghilain flickered into his mind, a scowl on his face the result of said thought. He didn’t trust Ruth, the voices wouldn’t let him.
You’re work, so this that you’re doing here, is just, repaying Megara? He had no interest in telling Megara anything about his son, at the moment he was torn between feeling the need to be inquisitive about what Ruth actually gets up to, and feeling the need to be validated that his son had amounted to not much of anything worth while.
There was a mischievous glint in his eye, noticing the muscles of his fathers jawline tighten. Recklessness and a pounding hangover urged him further, questioning, “As well as you? Are you a healer? No.” He set his cup down on the counter. “Your talents are far different. It seems I’ll need to also give a lesson in triage then.” He’d shrug, head then dipping to hide the slight smugness of his grin.
He’d never wanted to be Keeper. Ruth experienced enough hardship under his father that it would have driven any sane second out from under him.
Of course he wouldn’t mention anything to Megara. The Stoner, however, upon finding out their shared last name would no doubt seek him out, partly to satisfy her curiosity and the rest to perhaps fix the bond. Of what bond she may have referred to, Ruth had no idea. As far as he was concerned he had severed it the minute he had crossed the camp's boundary. “I don’t need to explain my arrangement with the Stoner, just that I’m quite capable of doing it. It benefits both our goals so let's leave it at that, yes?”
Picking up his cup, he’d play with it a moment to stem the agitation and need for distance. There was no immediate escape and likely, he’d be stuck with these people for the next few hours. The cooking wine hit his throat and while it wasn’t the most foul tasting thing, it gave him a kick, action finally decided upon. “Well. I’m sure we’ll continue to have more delightfully awkward talks on the way there. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go get dressed more appropriately and we can get the immediate concerns, like people potentially dying, remedied. Yes?”
A quick glance, and additional, “Enjoy your tea,” and Ruth turned, intending to return to his room.
It was a useless act talking to his son. He’d probably never understand him, or why the fates had deemed that Ruth survive while his mother, Kellam’s wife, was taken so cruelly from him, all to protect this useless waste of a space son.
His brain was far too full to take a step back and see his words for what they were, cruelty. The world was a cruel place, especially for elves. In his mind treating Ruth like he had, had been his way of caring. Yes, yes of course. He was positive Ruth wouldn’t be where he was today if it hadn’t been for Kellam’s cruelty, that any success Ruth had over the years, were all related to the how good a parent Kellam was. The boy really ought to thank Kellam, but he wasn’t going to hold his breath.
Very well. Things weren’t well, but he was hoping all would be soon. He was hoping he would learn a lot by being in Arlathan, there was even a small, very small, part of him that was glad to see his son in one piece, though he’d never say that out loud. He didn’t say anything else, just sipped at his tea and occasionally looked like he’d sucked a lemon when he thought about his son.
