[ He's still as a statue, not missing a single beat of his story. Roland doesn't even move to take another bite, content to just sit back and watch Tidus destroy his muffin. He's observant enough to know this was a story that meant something to him, something authentic and real. Not his usual jokes, poking fun at Roland's age, none of the jest that he's come to associate with the teen. This mattered to him, more than anything he's seen thus far. ]
Your talent for it runs in the family. [ He looks up, and his hand moves to hook inside the handle of his mug. ] Back home, tattooing things like that on your body was commonplace too. Especially the more well-known athletes. Like a memory engraved on you forever, even after you retire from the game. [ He watches Tidus carefully, eyes quiet and searching. There's something else about what he said that pokes at Roland's intrigue. Thankfully, he levels himself enough to match whatever energy Tidus is granting him. ] Is he the reason why you started playing too? On the same team even?
[ The unspoken thought: did Tidus play to be better than his father, or did he play out of love, to uphold the family reputation? Roland would let Tidus explain that. If at all. ]
Edited 2020-08-02 05:31 (UTC)
no you made your date bed, now lie in it from the future
[ Tidus stuffs a piece of the muffin into his mouth, refusing to make eye contact. Refusing to raise his head so as not to make it obvious, as if he's more interested in his food, that this isn't prodding at a raw nerve. Or a reservoir of emotions new and old that don't know what quite to be. ]
I wasn't trying to be him or anythin'. [ Like the defensive that slips out, an implication or remark (an accusation to his ears once upon a time) that he'd learnt better to respond to in the public. But this wasn't Zanarkand; this wasn't the fans or reporters asking him, saying, telling, You're Jecht's son--but can you be Jecht? in every word asked. He could speak as he felt.
But it's sharper than Tidus means it to be, or he knows that to be sharp at all isn't fair, and he sounds embarrassed as he says- ] You get big teams in each side of the city and section. The Zanarkand Abes are in the A-East, you got the Duggles in C-South. No reason to join any other team if that's where I grew up.
[ So he says, and he says it well with that dismissively youthful tone, a cover, an easier way to approach this conversation with what's already fluttered up from his stomach and left a twisted mess for him to deal with deeper. His father, the last time he saw his face; his old man, the ghost of his alcoholism and his refusal to ever be wrong and anything other than a bully; Jecht, the Blitzball star that would be remembered passionately, always.
It's unfair, to be so dodgy about him--to refuse the idea of a comparison, like it's offensive, and have that be the impression he leaves with someone. When he got better. When he deserves better. Tidus fiddles with a piece of the muffin between his fingers, sighing a little as he goes on- ]
He was a good Blitzball player--one of the best. And he was a good guy. He wasn't the best dad, but. He did his best at the end.
[ He searches for something else to say, but pops the broken muffin into his mouth and chews instead. ]
[ He didn't expect the sting, but it's a subject he tends to shove all the way back down, where no one can see his fear; where his thoughts are his alone to suffer. But he keeps his gaze trained on Tidus, he doesn't dare look away. At the end of the day, voidtrecker or not, he too, shared the same fate as the man in Tidus's memories, the man plaguing his subconscious even if it only shows in the small things - when Tidus refuses to look back at Roland, when he eats for only the sake of keeping his hands busy.
He wasn't the best dad, but he did his best in the end. ]
Makes sense. [ Is all he can muster up first, as he takes his half-empty mug, coffee cold and granules of the grind sinking into a murky darkness at the bottom. He wonders what Tidus's father really did; if he had left on such a sour note that his shadow and his reputation both haunt the youth to this day, a titan that he hasn't really faced, not yet, not really. Most of all, Roland wonders if his own story will follow this road. Watching William grow up without him, watching himself grow old without William by his side, getting better, becoming healthier - ]
... I find that when it comes right down to it, children tend to be better than their parents. [ He remembers Evan and King Leonhardt - how both forgave Mausinger in a flash, even though Mausinger betrayed him, killed the King, deposed the king's son without batting an eyelash. He had never felt more pride than on that day, when Evan forged bonds anew, as if it was not his father's killer shaking his hand, signing the Declaration. What a kid. ] And, going by that logic - [ He wills his throat to clear, and he shifts his tone to sound conversational, easygoing. His hand closest to Tidus starts grabbing his fork by the handle. ] - then you're definitely not your old man. Nor should you try to be him.
[ Roland wonders if he will tell himself the same thing, when the time comes. That he did his best. That he did everything, everything for Will, so that he wouldn't have to live in a world so torn by war.
Without warning, the Chief Consul quickly pierces the remaining torn up muffin piece on Tidus's plate with his fork and puts it in his mouth, chewing. He wiggles his eyebrow once, hiding under his bangs, a sharp look in his eyes. ]
[ There's a conversation here that Tidus doesn't want to have. Questions he could ask about Roland himself--Were you a father?--that he could assume by what he says, more he could know about the man he's come to like, respect, more that he could share about himself.
But he can't. He won't. There's a knot in his throat all the way from that mess inside his gut, and it's too soon, it's not right. Cutlery clanks all around and the acoustics of morning conversation sound from the upper floor and below, and this isn't the time to be upset. Not the time to figure out his feelings or this sudden discomfort that's heavier in him than it should be.
So maybe he can be glad at some later point for the fork that enters his vision, the jesting motion Roland makes when Tidus does look up. A small escape that's hard to drag himself towards when he still looks back down, conflicted, but- ]
I'll order the stuff in a sec. [ He squeezes his hands into fists on either side of the plate, then lets them rest flat on the table. ] You put everything down?
[ He'd rather not address it now, but later. All of that there in that moment. Pretend it wasn't there. ]
Let me double check. [ Roland doesn't move quite as snappy, but he does eventually unfold his arms and reach for the forgotten notebook. He clicks his pen and he writes in his usual fast scrawl, eyes sometimes darting back to Tidus to see if he's uncoiled. ] Pays to be sure. Even if somebody's got half a thousand points to spend in a day.
[ He throws him another smile, but it's more endearing than it is joking. Roland reads through it, makes sure every item he remembers is listed and then some, before handing it back to Tidus with a gentle slide on the table. ]
Yeah. [ Tidus stands, taking the notebook and resting it to the side of his tray to pick up at the same time. A look finally taken in Roland's direction, a better, if emptier smile flashed his way. ]
I'll use the terminal downstairs if it's free.
[ It's a 'see you later', whether it's sooner or later they do. The space will be good for him to get out of his own stupid head. But alas, poor destroyed muffin left to be chucked out and not even eaten after all that rip and tearing... ]
[ Roland stands as well, and takes Tidus's tray in his free hand so he can hold the notebook better. He doesn't mind it. He doesn't mind whatever it is Tidus has to feel because it's part of the process - to breathe, take it all in, reject it, then come back to it all over again. So he smiles like he understands, and maybe he does, as he moves out of the chair and angles himself to the dishwasher. ]
I got this. Maybe I just didn't do chores right last month. Who knows. Heh. Do what you have to do. I'll get my routine going before we hit the platform. [ And he means that in more ways than one. ]
See you around. Happy shopping. [ He nods and that's Tidus's exit, clean and as he needs it. Roland will be cleaning up the plates, maybe nabbing a bite of that torn up muffin. In the back of his mind, he hopes old wounds will no longer reopen for either of them. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
blitzcheer) wrote2020-04-28 11:07 am
(Forgot a minor correction - this is Grasshopper 16, not 31!)
Your talent for it runs in the family. [ He looks up, and his hand moves to hook inside the handle of his mug. ] Back home, tattooing things like that on your body was commonplace too. Especially the more well-known athletes. Like a memory engraved on you forever, even after you retire from the game. [ He watches Tidus carefully, eyes quiet and searching. There's something else about what he said that pokes at Roland's intrigue. Thankfully, he levels himself enough to match whatever energy Tidus is granting him. ] Is he the reason why you started playing too? On the same team even?
[ The unspoken thought: did Tidus play to be better than his father, or did he play out of love, to uphold the family reputation? Roland would let Tidus explain that. If at all. ]
no you made your date bed, now lie in it from the future
I wasn't trying to be him or anythin'. [ Like the defensive that slips out, an implication or remark (an accusation to his ears once upon a time) that he'd learnt better to respond to in the public. But this wasn't Zanarkand; this wasn't the fans or reporters asking him, saying, telling, You're Jecht's son--but can you be Jecht? in every word asked. He could speak as he felt.
But it's sharper than Tidus means it to be, or he knows that to be sharp at all isn't fair, and he sounds embarrassed as he says- ] You get big teams in each side of the city and section. The Zanarkand Abes are in the A-East, you got the Duggles in C-South. No reason to join any other team if that's where I grew up.
[ So he says, and he says it well with that dismissively youthful tone, a cover, an easier way to approach this conversation with what's already fluttered up from his stomach and left a twisted mess for him to deal with deeper. His father, the last time he saw his face; his old man, the ghost of his alcoholism and his refusal to ever be wrong and anything other than a bully; Jecht, the Blitzball star that would be remembered passionately, always.
It's unfair, to be so dodgy about him--to refuse the idea of a comparison, like it's offensive, and have that be the impression he leaves with someone. When he got better. When he deserves better. Tidus fiddles with a piece of the muffin between his fingers, sighing a little as he goes on- ]
He was a good Blitzball player--one of the best. And he was a good guy. He wasn't the best dad, but. He did his best at the end.
[ He searches for something else to say, but pops the broken muffin into his mouth and chews instead. ]
https://i.imgur.com/R7NGVsc.jpg
He wasn't the best dad, but he did his best in the end. ]
Makes sense. [ Is all he can muster up first, as he takes his half-empty mug, coffee cold and granules of the grind sinking into a murky darkness at the bottom. He wonders what Tidus's father really did; if he had left on such a sour note that his shadow and his reputation both haunt the youth to this day, a titan that he hasn't really faced, not yet, not really. Most of all, Roland wonders if his own story will follow this road. Watching William grow up without him, watching himself grow old without William by his side, getting better, becoming healthier - ]
... I find that when it comes right down to it, children tend to be better than their parents. [ He remembers Evan and King Leonhardt - how both forgave Mausinger in a flash, even though Mausinger betrayed him, killed the King, deposed the king's son without batting an eyelash. He had never felt more pride than on that day, when Evan forged bonds anew, as if it was not his father's killer shaking his hand, signing the Declaration. What a kid. ] And, going by that logic - [ He wills his throat to clear, and he shifts his tone to sound conversational, easygoing. His hand closest to Tidus starts grabbing his fork by the handle. ] - then you're definitely not your old man. Nor should you try to be him.
[ Roland wonders if he will tell himself the same thing, when the time comes. That he did his best. That he did everything, everything for Will, so that he wouldn't have to live in a world so torn by war.
Without warning, the Chief Consul quickly pierces the remaining torn up muffin piece on Tidus's plate with his fork and puts it in his mouth, chewing. He wiggles his eyebrow once, hiding under his bangs, a sharp look in his eyes. ]
You're better.
nbd nbd just Father Feelings
But he can't. He won't. There's a knot in his throat all the way from that mess inside his gut, and it's too soon, it's not right. Cutlery clanks all around and the acoustics of morning conversation sound from the upper floor and below, and this isn't the time to be upset. Not the time to figure out his feelings or this sudden discomfort that's heavier in him than it should be.
So maybe he can be glad at some later point for the fork that enters his vision, the jesting motion Roland makes when Tidus does look up. A small escape that's hard to drag himself towards when he still looks back down, conflicted, but- ]
I'll order the stuff in a sec. [ He squeezes his hands into fists on either side of the plate, then lets them rest flat on the table. ] You put everything down?
[ He'd rather not address it now, but later. All of that there in that moment. Pretend it wasn't there. ]
BIG OOF 8(
[ He throws him another smile, but it's more endearing than it is joking. Roland reads through it, makes sure every item he remembers is listed and then some, before handing it back to Tidus with a gentle slide on the table. ]
Go crazy.
wow are we wrapping a thread?? scandalous
I'll use the terminal downstairs if it's free.
[ It's a 'see you later', whether it's sooner or later they do. The space will be good for him to get out of his own stupid head. But alas, poor destroyed muffin left to be chucked out and not even eaten after all that rip and tearing... ]
how dare we close clean, who ARE WE ANYMORE
I got this. Maybe I just didn't do chores right last month. Who knows. Heh. Do what you have to do. I'll get my routine going before we hit the platform. [ And he means that in more ways than one. ]
See you around. Happy shopping. [ He nods and that's Tidus's exit, clean and as he needs it. Roland will be cleaning up the plates, maybe nabbing a bite of that torn up muffin. In the back of his mind, he hopes old wounds will no longer reopen for either of them. ]