Monday afternoon: Charles and Kylun

[x-kylun.livejournal.com]

In which Charles passes on what he's learned about Kylun's parents.



Kylun entered Charles' study with his usual self-assurance muted, hope and trepidation and not a little fear locked fast beneath a shield of monastic self-discipline; he took a seat gracefully, but the tension in his body was plain.  After a breath to center himself, he met Charles' eyes.  "Have you learned something about my parents, Professor?"

"Kylun," Charles nodded in greeting, offering the man seated before him a quick, small smile. "Understand, this is merely conjecture and possibilities... though I do admit it's more than I expected," he paused, then continued, "the province of coincidence perhaps offering... a possibility." He picked up the folder on the corner of his desk and pulled out a photo from it, handing it to Kylun. "Simply put, here it is... does this mean anything to you, or jog any memories, Kylun?" he asked gently.

A copy of what was obviously an old, yellowing photograph, the picture was indistinct, and Kylun held it for a few moments, studying it carefully, with no sign of recognition on his face.

Then his breath caught, and his grip on the picture shifted to cradle it gently.  "This--the sweater, I was wearing it the day I was taken, the day I came to the monastery.  It is still . . . I could not wear it often, when I joined the order, but I kept it, and Sa'tneen and I, we meant to give it to our first child . . . and the face, now, yes, yes, of course--"  He raised his eyes, unbelieving, to meet Charles' once more.  "This is a picture of me.  As a small boy, before my fur grew, before--before everything.  How did you get it?  Who gave it to you?  Do they know where my parents' graves are?"

Release his breath slowly, Charles leaned back in his chair, shaking his head ever so minutely in astonishment, even as he smiled - this time the expression remaining in place. "Of all the things..." chuckling lowly, he handed Kylun the folder, this time. "Noel and Jane McKay. There are a few other pictures in the dossier, including one of them," he added, before Kylun opened the folder. "There will be a blood test required," he added, after a moment's pause, "but you should know that the people in this file... are not dead."

Kylun froze, the folder half-opened.  "That is impossible," he breathed.  "I saw them--I saw, I told Zz'ria they were--they could not have--what had been done to them, what I saw, and how much more I know now I could not see, they could not--!"

He squeezed his eyes shut, nostrils flaring, clenching his will around the hurricane of his emotions and forcing them to subside.  They did not quiet easily, but after a long moment his eyes opened again.  "I saw two corpses," he said flatly.  "I was made to look at them, and though they were a man and a woman . . . more than that could not be told.  He said they were my parents, but I, I was a child, and half out of my mind with fear . . ."  Kylun laid the folder down gently on the table, stroking its cover.  "And if this is true . . . then he lied, a simple lie, easy as breathing for a priest of Necrom.  And then the monks came, and only I survived to tell them what had happened . . . and by then I believed, for by then I knew that my parents' murder was the least of his cruelties."

With a deep, shuddering breath, Kylun wrenched his mind away from the past.  "Noel and Jane McKay," he said slowly, tasting the words, testing them against the void of his earliest years, and shook his head, in wonder more than in negation.  "What was their son's name?"

"Colin." The words were spoken carefully, as though in an attempt to buffer the shock Kylun was under. "Colin McKay."

---

Credit to meallanmouse for finding and aging it for me.

Comments

[x-rahne.livejournal.com]

Oh, heavens.

"That is impossible," he breathed. "I saw them--I saw, I told Zz'ria they were--they could not have--what had been done to them, what I saw, and how much more I know now I could not see, they could not--!"

He squeezed his eyes shut, nostrils flaring, clenching his will around the hurricane of his emotions and forcing them to subside. They did not quiet easily, but after a long moment his eyes opened again. "I saw two corpses," he said flatly. "I was made to look at them, and though they were a man and a woman . . . more than that could not be told. He said they were my parents, but I, I was a child, and half out of my mind with fear . . ." Kylun laid the folder down gently on the table, stroking its cover. "And if this is true . . . then he lied, a simple lie, easy as breathing for a priest of Necrom. And then the monks came, and only I survived to tell them what had happened . . . and by then I believed, for by then I knew that my parents' murder was the least of his cruelties."

What really rocked me back here wasn't just the emotion, the discovery, but that he could stop in the middle of it and think and realize... and understand what must have happened instead.

[x-rahne.livejournal.com]

Also, I adore the cut-tag.

[x-siryn.livejournal.com]

What she said. Just...beautiful.