Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG
[1062] – Y05.062 – Father and Son III

[1062] – Y05.062 – Father and Son III

“Who gave you permission to be so cute?” Lanarot asked, her hands upon her waist, tutting at the little boy.

“Is always daddy’s fault,” Jirot accused, shaking her head lightly, letting out an exhausted sigh. “What am I to do with you?”

“I understand you two want to bully me, but isn’t it all mummy’s fault for being so beautiful?” Adam replied, feeling the intense pressure of the two children he had corrupted to bully him so deeply.

Jirot blinked, furrowing her brows, her eyes falling upon her mother, who smiled so warmly. “How it can be mummy’s fault? What are you saying, daddy?”

“Daddy…” Little Jarot pouted up at his father, his lower lip quivering.

“How can I say such a thing, of course it’s my fault,” Adam said, the pain of his son’s pouts now far more real.

Jirot’s eyes remained glued upon her youngest brother’s ears for a long moment in the dawn’s lights, while the eldest of Adam’s children sat nearby, her tail swaying behind her so joyfully, her siblings’ tails also doing the same. Their youngest sibling smelled so much like their mother and father, just like their youngest sister.

The children didn’t notice their mother and father sharing a look.

“I’m… going to go do some work,” Adam admitted, feeling the intense glare of his daughter.

“Mummy!” Jirot pouted.

“Must you work?”

“An order came in recently for some… noble. I want to make sure it’s… dealt with before…” Adam paused, feeling the tightness within his chest. “I should…”

Vonda reached out to Adam’s hand, noting the way the half elf continued to tense up. “Of course, darling. Jirot, your father must finish his work, and then he will return and play with you.”

Jirot pouted, her leaf shaped ears drooping. “Okay…”

Adam finished enchanting that day, returning back to replace Jirot almost tackling him along with her eldest siblings. He hoisted the twins up, allowing them to smother him, spending the entire evening with them. Every so often, Xarot would awaken, the boy cackling lightly, but Lokat made sure to check upon him and his cousin multiple times a day, along with the Iyrmen who had been sent over by the extended estate.

Cirot and Sirot had forced their way into the shared estate to watch over the newborns, while also playing with the little twins.

“Weren’t you two meant to be-,” Adam began, only to realise how his words could have sounded.

“We were tasked with completing our duties before we were allowed to work,” Cirot said. “We found out today.”

“We regret not fighting against it,” Sirot admitted, her heart aching deeply.

“No, you did the right thing,” Adam assured, suddenly feeling awkward. “How’s your father?”

“He is still meditating.”

“Meditating?”

“The deaths hurt father deeply.”

Adam blinked. He wasn’t sure if he was that close to Fakrot, or if Fakrot was that close to his twins, but hearing that his uncle was meditating so deeply caused his heart to dampen. ‘Should I go see him?’

“Jurot said to ask you,” Cirot whispered.

“About what?”

The pair remained silent, feeling the heaviness within the air. They glanced towards Jirot and Jarot, who were both reading to little Virot and Damrot, the babies giggling and squealing each time Jirot acted out the scene.

Adam shook his head. “It’s going to be okay.”

“…”

As the days passed, Adam continued to enchant, only stopping upon the thirteenth, where he spent the day spoiling his cousin, Churot.

“Here,” Adam said, revealing the magical weapon he had enchanted earlier in the year.

“Hope?” Churot asked, staring down at the axe.

“Yeah,” Adam replied, before hugging the teen. Adam hadn’t realised until that day how old Churot had become, and yet the boy was almost the same as he was all those years ago. Taller, though still thin, still quiet, and still wishing to remain beside his grandfather. Katool and Lanarot, the pair had grown so much in the last six years, but Churot was almost the same, save for his love of numbers, and how tall he had become.

‘Ah. You’ve grown too, huh, Churot?’

“Thank you, cousin Adam,” Churot replied, hugging the half elf back.

“It is a good weapon,” the one armed Jarot said. “It will go well with your shield.”

Adam remained at the extended family estate with the rest of his family. He didn’t notice his wife’s eyes upon him, whereas she noticed the look within his eyes. The half elf was engraving the scene within his heart.

Even now they had yet to speak of it.

The Rot family gained many visitors that week. The likes of Okvar, who greeted the newborns, before bringing the twins to his chest, embracing them so tenderly.

“You must visit me too,” Okvar said. “Rasam also misses you.”

“I come later, okay?” Jirot assured, bowing her head to allow the old man to ruffle her hair, the girl shyly smirking.

“Okay.”

Adam even spotted the familiar faces which had brought him to the Iyr, the likes of Argon, Tazwyn, Eshvah, Kandal, and Dargon, each who appeared together.

“We are sorry for coming so late, but Dargon had not yet returned,” Argon said, clasping the half elf’s forearm.

“I hope you have brought enough gifts to spoil my children, my nieces and nephews, and of course, my adorable cousins.”

“What of your sister?”

“Do I need your help spoiling her?” Adam joked, allowing the Iyrmen to greet his youngest children, each also gifting each of his children additional gifts.

Wahruv also came to give his gifts and greetings, also saying his greetings to his aunt and uncle, Arokan and Rokan.

“Your daughter looks healthy,” Wahruv said, shaking Jurot’s forearm.

“Yes. She eats well.”

Wahruv smiled, before greeting Adam, shaking the half elf’s forearm, feeling how light his grip was. “Xarot, he sleeps well?”

“Like a baby,” Adam joked. “How’s family?”

“Well,” Wahruv said, glancing aside to the children, who were snoozing off to one side. “I shall take my leave.”

Adam watched as the Iyrman stepped away, though raised his brow as the Iyrman stopped. Wahruv turned, their gazes meeting for a moment.

“Do you still have that copper?”

Adam smiled slightly. “I keep it with the rest of my treasure.”

“During the nightval festival, I will come for it.”

Adam smiled politely, the pair acknowledging the future that would not come to pass, before the Iyrman left.

Once Wahruv retured, he glanced towards Shamir, who was also deep in thought. It was then he understood what Ashmir might have been thinking, before the young Iyrman sat to one side, dwelling upon his thoughts. He recalled how he had fought Jurot and Adam just a few years ago. He had barely defeated Jurot, and then had lost so easily to Adam, who had held back.

Yet, today, the half elf seemed like a shadow of his former self. He looked down at his forearm, feeling the echo of Jurot’s grip. He replayed the scene within his mind. Years ago, he had defeated Jurot, though it had taken him great effort, though he was several years older.

‘He really is the Mad Dog’s grandson,’ Wahruv thought, closing his eyes, realising the difference of himself and the Iyrman today

Finally, Adam had completed his enchanting. He remained at the shrine for a long while, sitting, his thoughts keeping him company, as well as the Iyrman who had been tasked with watching over him.

“Daddy, I counted, and you are done today,” Jirot said.

“Who do you think you are? Counting so well?” Adam asked, planting a firm kiss on the girl’s forehead.

“I am Jirot.” The girl brushed her hair behind her ear confidently. “I am so good at numbers and letters. I am too smart for you, daddy.”

“You are.” Adam rubbed his cheek against Jarot’s cheeks, the boy cuddling up to his father’s chest.

“You are finished now?” Jirot asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I’m finished, but I need to speak with the Chief.”

“Why?”

“It’s about…” Adam looked down into Jirot’s amber eyes, seeing his own reflection within them, noting the bags under his eyes. “Daddy is a little sick, and the Chief is going to help, because he is so nice.”

“The Chief is always so nice. We must bring him a gift.”

“What should we bring him?” Adam asked.

“The best gift!”

“Oh yes? What’s the best gift?”

“Yummy food.”

“You really are so smart,” Adam said, kissing her forehead. “Should we bring him some crisps?”

“No, all the cips are mine and they are Jarot’s.”

“Then what should we bring him?”

“Potato.”

“Crisps are potato.”

“Huh?” The girl glanced up towards her father. “What are you saying, daddy? Cips is cips and potato is potato.”

“That’s the secret, dear, they’re always potatoes.”

“Cips are potatoes?”

“Always have been.”

Jirot blinked, before giggling wildly. “Daddy! You are so silly! Cips are not potatoes! You cannot trick me.”

Adam smiled. “Then, shall I show you how to make crisps?”

“You can make cips, daddy?” Jirot asked, her eyes growing wide. “Pizza and cips? Wow! You are so talented!”

Adam glanced aside to little Jarot, who stared up at him innocently. ‘Is she still bullying me?’

Even now, with the limited time Adam had, he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Jirot is brutal.