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Chapter Text

He sat stiff, arms a contrast were draped haphazardly over the chair’s arms, though one was set straight enough so that his fingers could drum against an arms edge.  Having ordered the child to sit he waited and was if not promptly obeyed spare spite and attitude whilst being obeyed.  Nails tapping against wood as the white clad boy situated himself at his elder’s feet, the child indulged a traditional repose.

Even’d not call the posture proper or comfortable.  To rest upon both knees, head down, hands clasped, spoke of something prayerful to the most impious.  It was only he child’s adherence to ceremony (head resolutely down) that allowed Even’s face to twist into a sneer.  If his tone was a mite flat, well such was the result of upholding to so placid a façade while emotions riled the insides.

“I’ve spoken to Ienzo, I’d like your version now.”

The boy looked up at that, breaking off from protocol of a traditional bent.  It was a riot of accidental color, the child’s hair, shifting from black and white, zebra style to the most awful combination of fucia and green with a vaguely glitter like sparkly about the spikes atop the boy’s head.  The black was turning green… sea sick green… and the pink was sparkling.  Mentally making a note to scold Ienzo about considering the color sensitive when he got to his shenanigans, Even tried not to stai at the bot’s head.

Not an easy fear when considering how as the boy before him nipped his lip a sky blue blush was overtaking the green and creeping about the pink like a blueberry stain.

“Why,”  not bitterness here, nor resignation, the boy held no inflection even as he asked.  “If Ienzo told you-“

“Each truth has a side, as truth is a fickle thing.  Personal perspective.  Thus I know his side,”  Even drawled, stilling the ra-ta-ta-tap of his digits with effort.  “His side is not your side.  To pass proper judgment upon the scenario I must hear both.”

Silence reigned awhile.  More than used to that one’s rule Even waited as the boy considered something with utmost seriousness.

“What’d he say?”

Really, whispered were Ienzo’s preference, when this boy, normally so loud and boisterous took a page from his younger sibs book it was quite disquieting.

Lifting an eyebrow Even met blue eyes, grateful that Ienzo’s spell work hadn’t altered those, and let the boy read what he could in the blond man’s expression.

“I’d rather not taint the data pool thank you.”

“Uhm… what?”

Ah yes, not a scientist, Even traded tracks with only a blink to tell that tale.

“What Ienzo said is between me and him, as what I say to you is between the two of us.  Furthermore, were I to tell you what Ienzo said you’d just agree with what I say to avoid perceived conflict.  You’d done that before and I don’t make the same error twice.”

To bluenette.. soon to be tealette’s wince was answer enough.

“Well?”

“So… Ienzo was acting all… quiet, weird.  We’d been out; coming home and he’d been getting all quieter.  I asked what was wrong.”  With a huff the boy reacquainted old anger he’d once upon a time never acknowledge much less indulge, Ven pressed on, teeth gritted.  “I.. I don’t like liars, He knows that.  But I didn’t’ say anything until we got back.  You... you weren’t home and he was still acting all off and he couldn’t say why and he lied.”

As if that sole sin held all the worlds’ woes.  For Ven though, perhaps it had.  A lie had certainly been the crux of his world, and the revelation of such had been its fall.

For that, some anger was expected.

The expression of the sentiment though, that was messy.

“Then?”  Even prompted.

“We fought,”  the rug must have been fascinating.  Some secret squirreled away under it’s geometric designs,  Or perhaps the child was contemplating threat count.

“Child.”  To that rare, so rare indulgence of affection Ven looked up.  If there were tears about the eyes at something so rarely given… well Even wasn’t one to tell that tale.  “If you’d “fought” my… excuse me, our… house wouldn’t be standing, you’d both be bloodied and bruised, and the combination of light and dark manas would have drawn every foul creature for miles.  Try again.”

“I… not physically... I yelled at him, alright!”

“No, hence why we are here now.  And yelling at me will get you nothing save a reprimand.  Try again, last attempt.”

Slumping as much as his outré pose would allow, the boy groaned.  The bared head was a fetching silver.  Shame it wasn’t to last.  As Even waited the hair pinked, a metallic pink that defied nature and synthetic and really… where did Ienzo get these ideas?  Between glint and glitter and the slow spread of what was and what was to be it looked as if the boy sported a head of blushing snow.  Blinking, to both banish the thought and to check his visual feet for contaminants he sight returned to reveal the same metamorphosis and the odd thought remained.

Since fancy was beyond him Even’d blame Ienzo and let it go at that.

“You weren’t home, “ as if this were a valid point, some pardoning statement.  “And he ... he just treated this girl so wrong, it was wrong, and he didn’t apologize then, and wouldn’t even say it was wrong even now and…

“And how did he treat this girl, whose plight was so dire you didn’t bother to recall her name?  It must have been villainy at its peak to rile you up so.”

To that bit of wit the boy’s mouth opened and closed, no words came out.  Setting his hands before him, fingers against fingers, the lot all angular and pointed, he set his chin on the nails.  The bite was a warning that he need not be too biting, but he dared not be too lenient either.  There must be a balance.

“So you decided to comment upon his misbehavior to him taking the role of an adult.  While ambitions did you not think it a mite inappropriate to appropriate an adult’s prerogative?  Regardless of that I must say your reprimand was quite vigorous.  So much so that a neighbor called me at work to complain, at length.”

“I.. uh.. didn’t know… about that…”

“I didn’t bandy that information about.  Though my coming hone two hours early was a bit of hap stance hm?”

Ven winced, did so quite well, and something like embarrassment flared brighter than the anger that’d been so poorly hidden before.

“Regardless of Ienzo’s actions, your actions caused a little old lady some massive upset.  We’ve spoken, she and I, you’ll be weeding her garden in compensation come tomorrow morning.”

“Alright.” A squirm, the carpet was considered again, but not quite quick enough… checking the urge to swear Even bit his lip, the boy missed it, small mercies.  “Can I go now?”

Had he not seen… well he had and there was no unseeing.  There had been a glint of gold amongst the blue, and to that Even seriously weighed pros and cons and settled on a compromise.

“You’ve two hours to tell me the truth of it, that or you will write it down in a letter.  Either must be completed before dinner, is that understood.”

“Yes sir.”

“Then consider yourself confined to your quarters for the duration.  You may make one trip for a snack and water, but that is all.  I’ll see you at Dinner at the latest then.”

“Yes sir.”

Better than “yes master”, the first he’d been addressed by the boy.  That had been such an unpleasant shock that he’d lost hi whole train of thought for the afternoon, the whatever of that conversation simply gone, as subject, intent, and meaning had left Even.  It’d taken two moons to weary the boy of that habit.  Still, watching the child rise, Even had to admit it was a lean comfort.  He’d take what he could, of course, but considering how much more there was left.  It was progress, but it was a sliver.  Blessing and curse, both that.

With this boy though, there could be little else save these extremes.

“Ventus.”  The boy’s back to him, obviously so intent on getting away from here, from punishment, that he’d blocked Even out entirely.  “We all make mistake. This is not the end of the world. Just remember this, please.  You are a child, all expectations of the world to the contrary, let yourself be such.”

“Why?”

Was that bitterness? Did the eyes burn gold? He could not tell, did not try to differentiate.

Gold or blue, Ven or Van, the boy was one and the same. Ocular mutations were utterly irrelevant to who the boy was, still…

“Because you are.  And what you are is as it should be.”  Lips quirking into a grin, Even had to add.  “And adulthood is highly overrated.  The only certainty of such is death and taxes, both are rather drab affairs.”

Really, the boy oozed bafflement as he shrugged and went to his room.  It was a fascinating and (if he were feeling a bit cruel) amusing phenomenon.  It was worlds better than say foot stomping and door slamming that Ienzo had favored him at the end of their talk.

Heaving a sigh Even closed his green eyes and told the headache to go elsewhere, preferably now.

No luck there, but still, he’d tried.  It was all he could do.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Gold’s Worth, part one

Gold was a precarious thing, Even mused, as he opened the fridge.  Really the “fridge” was a metal box, he  kicked the plug back under it as he gripped the handle.  He wasn’t.. cheap, not nessescarily, because honestly, they didn’t have the money to use electricity flippantly.  As to how it kept things chilled unpowered, well such was the joy of being an ice spell caster.  A quick glance at the inner walls showed the present coat to be holding nicely, but he did pick off a few icicles that were growing a mite ambitious.  Satisfied with his efforts he pulled out the milk and left  it to defrost while he rummaged about the uppermost shelves for cups

It took longer than normal as they were behind on cleaning and since both boys were in trouble he’d best leave the lot undone so they had something to do.  Also… he and water didn’t mix. That whole Demy fiasco had taught him that if nothing else he was not one for the water, the water inclined, and no matter his intelligence he should avoid what plumbing he could.

Finally, finding a bit of plastic drinkware (glass was too fragile a thing, he could destroy it in a moments inattention) he considered the spits about the rim, dubbed them likely water spots, and set it besides the milk.

It was tricky, working around the step ladder, a necessity considering that all the shelves were obscenely high up and the fact that he was the only one in house with something approaching a respectable height,  Though bent oddly managed, and got to pouring, all the while his mind was rattling over facts.  Gold was precious considered the stuff of kings, he could chatter about its autonomic and chemical facets for hours, list potions that needed the infusions of it, or the scrapings of it, physical characteristics, and even a few Radiant’s texts about the spirituality of the stuff.

Perhaps it was the fact that he was a potion maker of the fourth class specializing in healing compounds , alpha transfigurations, with a few second class status in incinerations, transfusions, identifying and manipulating metamorphasi compounds and-

Well what he had been had been an entitled doctorate laden ass.  Heaving a sigh Even closed his eyes… Just for a moment.  The milk was more frozen than liquid; still he was a patient man, if nothing else.

There were really no comparison to what he was and where he was now.  Now his titles were long and rather overblown jargon, perhaps the Twilighter’s title of “alchemist” fit best though it was the things of their fancy than say an actual title.  Regardless of what he was, what he did was chemically transition one thing to another, make them into compounds, and sell the stuff.  Gold was child’s trick done by those of the first level of skill, and the making of it was grunt work. Painfully easy to synthesize, it took five minutes in any well stocked lab to make, and a week’s efforts he could be rich, a month’s more leisure labor and he could set down enough money to make himself, Ienzo, and Ventis obscenely wealthy.  Had he no knowledge of economics or a scratch of fiscal responsibility he would have done so, and paid off whom he needed to too keep the consequences subdued for at least the course of his life.

Satisfied with the state of fullness of his cup he put milk to fridge, found another ambitious icicle, and plucked it out. Ice was oddly enthusiastic in spreading under his gaze, something that he really didn’t mind, but considering where they live and how they lived he’d probably have to set one of the boys to shoveling the front when winter reared its head.

Until then, in the middle of spring, it was a distant thought, and kept the mental note to find a shovel for said clearing of the yard company.

The trip to the living room from the kitchen was a doorless affair.  The walls were ringed round with bookshelves, most of those empty save the few of the nearest.  Those were partially stocked with curiosities, Even’s notes, and the texts from Radiant he’d managed to smuggle out during his escape.

All in all, book wise his house was a sad state of affairs.

Still children had been dubbed of higher import, and he was a fugitive, so the living had taken precedence over the inanimate, it was… an odd way to do things.  Bizarre, outré, and feeling distinctly strange he folded himself down upon the couch that was both mauve and far too soft for its own good.

A halfhearted reach under the mass that should have been supporting him –it was trying it’s damnedest to consume him, unlike the Dark it could not be warded off with an ice spell so he just endured the plush-  and he’d fished out his not-so-secret stash of oatmeal cookies.  Some were missing, hence the title of not-so-secret, and considering his charges and the one with a sweat tooth he suspected Ven the culprit.

He’d have to remember to ask during dinner.

This world was so strange, with its mild winters that left no icy scars in spring and the people who spoke oddly and called munny money of all the silly things.  It was a different life, and he was still living, and busied by its small little details that weren’t life or death decisions, so he shouldn’t complain.

Perhaps if he told himself such, or a bit more often he’d find less reason to do so.

Head lolled back, blond locks losing color in the gloom that he’d lit no light to fight back; he considered the ceiling and honestly didn’t taste the first bite of indulgence.

Fickle, sadistic light, had found it’s place above his head.  Turning mundane to gold by the thinnest skeins of illumination, the poorest man’s illusion, it wasn’t even solid seeming.

But it was there, and he was where he hadn’t wanted to be, exactly where he started.  Looking at gold that should, could’t be there… but was.

The only mercies was this illuimation wasn’t of a malicious bent.

Feet scraping against each other, he worked off one shoe than fought a bit for the other.  Uncaring for pain or effort or th new marks on the old furniture he had his mind only for one thing.

The gold.

He hated the stuff, had mildly disliked it during his training and grown to loath the stuff after seeing that… boy.  There were no other terms he’d indulge save “boy” or perhaps Vanitus, which was the child’s name.

Vanity, Vanitus the word play was unavoidable, and the mad child of no ones-birth had been an arcane made automation of some mad “Master” a tribute to the decaying old fools vanity.  Child form of a man. Both were cosmos warriors armed with oversized keys, both were mad, and the older, the creator had fallen from grace of some order of Departures.  Departed departure…  Drinking, more to wash out the grit of crumbs and a taste he knew he should of enjoyed but couldn’t Even considered Van.

He’d been a prime made target for… possession Eraqus had called it.  Really possession seemed too tame.  The child had so little mind outside some  multibranched script and bare bones route learning about maintenance he hadn’t registered any other functions save those of self preservation.  Not even the most advance brain scans had come up with much, nothing save route and routine all dug in with biochemical additive so obsession was the only route and deviation couldn’t’ happen.  Biologically the child was programed, on a cellular level, not much to take over there.

You could trigger the script, thus those so preoccupied with keys and light had found out much to their horror.  Still that “horror” must have been subdued, as none had bothered to tell Even what to avoid.  He’d had the dubious pleasure of tripping one of the “speeches” while tending what was supposed to be an placid, druggedup magic deprived child and perhaps it was the black eye from when the brat had fought back trying to get to some woods or other that had been the last straw.

In higher probability it had been that he’d had to hook the ungrateful brat to life support after the child had gone into collapse trying to do stupid preprogramed things that he really hadn’t been up to doing in the first place.  Regardless his eye had throbbed something fierce when he’d stormed out of the medical offices and into one of those “enlightened” meetings. His side trip to placate a frantic Ienzo, silly child hadn’t known when to let gossipers be gossipers and ignore the drama about him, and knock out Ven who’d somehow gotten it into his fool head to “visit” his “brother”, in a fit he’d sleep spelled them both.

Regardless he had been in a very bad mood, and the megalomaniac ramblings about the Key a Key whose name he still couldn’t think, much less pronounce (it changed every time, even in his recollections) and Kingdom Hearts, and Hearts of the World and how all power would be his… from a thirteen year old no less!

Even had not been a happy man.

On recollection neither had been Dilan, who’d been sent out with a token guard to deal with “the darkness problem”, nor had Aeleus who’d been sent to fight monsters, add Braig who was always a wild card to the mix ranting about security breaches and restless civilians, a King from a kingdom of anthromorphic mice, some old swordsmaster… keyblade whatever he was, add in some ranting about prophecy and a batch of very unhappy people who hadn’t had the opportunity to touch base and thus weren’t prepared to hear what was really going on…

All Even recalled was that he’d called Ansem out on his human experimentation (after all, created synthetically or not, Van registered as a human) quit, been exiled for blasphemy (because Ansem would never admit to what he was doing, never publically or privately), Aeleus had blasted out the chairs under everyone’s feet after perusing Even’s notes on the Van files, and read further on the proposals for Ven, the mere suggestion they use Ienzo’s budding powers of illusion to placate the restless peoples thus taking the “populace problem” off the table had been badly received… at least someone  had shot out the windows screaming about how wrong that was, and Dilan had shish-ka-bobed some junior guards with his little resignation stunt.

The last indignity of the lot was that someone (the blond suspected Lea, the brat just had timing like that) had slipped into the water way and tripped the sprinkler systems.  It’d hailed, but then Even had been furious and he wasn’t apologizing for that spat of damages.

Nor was he of mind to pay for anything.

Reviving his charges he’d fled, flown far and hard enough that Ansem was little more than a madman’s fancy and there were a few solar systems between king and subject so that if not safe, they were safer.

So he’d thought, hoped, and perhaps even in the quietest aspects of his soul, had prayed.

He’d discounted Eraqus, fools error that, and Eraqus was a whole other bundle of issue right there that he didn’t want to think about right now.

But the gold above, the gold about Ven’s eyes was warning.

He’d have to think about it, sooner rather than later, and definitely before eventually rolled about.

Chapter Text

Golds worth

Part 2

Even recalling all the excitement of that day made him tired, though a few months separated him from it.  He’d ran about Radiant donning disguises that he though were transparent but held just long enough that physical measures were hardly needed.  He’d been a busy man liquefying all of his assets, pausing only long enough to push two patents for far less than they were worth, and had taken all his money, Ven and ienzo, and had fled.  Twilight Town was a solar system away from Radiant, and though the powers that be of this place were aware of Ansem in a vague sense they had no concrete form of contact.  That, more than the worlds technological advances (as close to Radiant as he could find in their hurried flight) had been what decide Even to try this place as home.

And if there was a rumor that the President (they eschewed Kings here, the politics were baffling and backwards) was at odds with Ansem even before certain testimony had come to light via Even’s efforts.  Well that had been for the betterment of everyone.  Another layer of safety. The powers that may be might change hand ritualistically after a tally of some sorts but the whole ideology of these people was so against high handed power plays that Ansem’s actions had been dubbed enough of a stigma to keep Even and his lot safe for generations.

Or rather supposed safety.

Even wasn’t a man much bothered by guilt, but he’d had to make a number of hurried decisions back to back and knew even when he started that some of them would be bad ones.  He’d been confident though that his canniness would get them through and for most involved it had.

Save for Van, that mad broken thing. Even had dubbed the child a security risk he dared not and had moved on, silencing Ven’s protests when they came up with “laters” that he never ment.

Logically he hadn’t dared move the bot.  The mad child had been at death’s door.  The one forced move from open ward to isolation had left the child in a coma, anything else more vigerous would have been worse.

Or perhaps better.

Taking milk and guilt in a sip, Even  considered his excuses.

There’d been a price on his head, ten million to be exact, it’d topped Braig’s nine million but then the man had been found with human test subjects in his part of the labs where Even had dared defy and run rumors of scandalous nature about his king.  Still thanks to Braig’s antics all the apprentices were suspect, even Ienzo, thus the bounties went for all five of them. While the sum was flattering the sheer amount of munny on the plate was enough to make the most benign malicious via greed.  Thus Even could not go home again, and that hadn’t been a bother.  Not really.

Ienzo had missed Patricia a bit, expected that, but he’d made fast friends which the local library staff and a girl down the street, so that batch of homesickness was nicely abating although Even did note that he’d have to pull Ienzo aside to talk to the boy about appropriate behavior towards women.

Chivalry was not innate with the child, or so the incident that had kicked off both boy’s scuffle had proven, so the child would need a few pointers.  If Ienzo bothered using said pointers was up to the boy, Even’d not criticize too harshly for giving someone the cold shoulder.  He’d just have to remind the boy not to make them all social phyrias

That’d also be something he’d have to mention to Ven… that whatever had been constituted as right and moral was allowed to be interpreted under somewhat looser strictures.

As for Ven… Even wondered if after what Erauqs did if the boy would ever miss Departure.

If he even could.

Another sip, some gnawing required, still Even didn’t care, partook most his liquids as solid anyway…

Could Ven… and Van… really care for Departure, or any of its inhabitants?

Hopefully not.

Because Even had scruples of a sort.  And taking a critically ill child from his caretakers was beyond Even’s deprivations.  Erauqs had no such stipulations.  Not if it were for the greater good.  The old man had taken the child, commented upon purifying his soul of darkness and had gotten Ansem’s blessings to boot.

When the mouse, busy body and king as well, it was an interesting combination, had queried if Ansem was normally so… blasé about questionable matters for the greater good.  Even had had the dubious pleasure of speaking the truth.  He had told the rodent yes, yes Ansem was always like this, and if said anthromorphic abomination needed more examples to look up Even and Braig’s files.  The King had been in Ansems graces back then, and had so done so using the greater good for his excuse.  He supposed the King had been horrified by what he read, because the biped mammalian creature had been off to natter at his Master with his concerns over the tangled lot.

Whatever Yen Sid had consoled or counseled had been beyond Even’s caring and hearing, he’d been busy getting their paperwork in order and trying to get his charges acquainted with their new home.

It’d seemed important, combing schools, feeling out the strictures and morals of this place, and researching what progress they’d made with the arcane. He’d been busy, nose first in a book on Twilight’s history when the knock had come.  The boy’s had gone to the door, intent on answering, or rather Ven had been.  Even had taught Ienzo better, that he was to be fetched, but said fetching had been curtailed by the fact Ienzo was trying to explain to Ven why they didn’t answer the door without an adult.

 “You can’t trust anyone…”  Ienzo groaned,  “It could be anyone wanting anything and…”

“And that’s bad?  What if it’s one of those scout cookie things, Even’d just say no and that’d be bad…”

A flit of temptation had been tempered down when Ienzo had spied Even, and yes, the younger boy had tattled, and yes Even had scolded them both.  Because Ven had been told he’d just forgotten, and Ienzo might have magiked up his allowance pouch just in case and magic was not to be done without supervision, and no Even was not supervising, he was talking, and through Even’s speeches the persistent whoever it was knocked every few minutes.  It was a tame ruckus that while polite grated.  Irritation, not manners, had summoned Even to his door.

And if Ienzo and Ven had followed at his back, eyes wide and wondering (perhaps hoping it was cookies) well Even wasn’t going to drive them off.

It’d be boring and simple and Ienzo would at least learn that little people with little issues were who normally knocked on peoples doors.

The person on the other side was neither little nor with a small issue.

They’d sent Aqua, Aqua with news that was heartbreaking, and she’d wanted comfort as much as been sent to comfort Ven in his grief.

Van had died, a note could have been sent, one Even would have shown to the children and had been done with it.  Aqua had needed more tending than any scrap of paper.  Had clung to Even, then Ven, then Even again because clearly he was some sort of support pillar.  He’d tried to endure, but Ienzo had politely told the woman that Even did not like to be touched (as if Even’s stiff back, clawed hands, and the grit of forming hoarfrost weren’t warning enough) and could she let go now, please?

And Aqua had, torn between horror and grief and then the last bit had stumbled out. An insult, all accidental.  Ven had been invited to the funeral, at Departure.  When no allowances (a ban, specifically, due to the darkness of their hearts) had been made, could be made, for Ienzo or Even Even’d put his foot down.

He lied silkily, never mind the scaring of his throat from an experiment he could scarcely recall, spinning a tale about a temple he favored and how more apporopriate it would be to grieve here rather than there.  Bonding experience with the world and all htat clap trap.  Not once had his voice broken.  Even wasn’t an utter bastard though, he’d put the girl up for the night, a light meal, had consoled, comforted, then gently ejected Aqua from his home.

Because there was no way in the seven lairs of Hell he was letting Ven alone with Erauqs for five minutes much less a full day for services.

They’d found a chapel, watched over Ven while h went through the civilized cycles of his grief on the supposedly holly ground of some nameless light deity. And if there had been a quiet conversation about differing faiths and respecting people’s beliefs while Ven had prayed, well Ven hadn’t minded and both Gardeners had kept their voices down.

He’d been tired from nights of nightmares, of being woken up, and from tending grief that while not his own was wearying.  New to the house, unaware of Even’s particularities, the newest child had turned clingy. He’d been baffled as Ienzo had tried and failed to explain that Even hated contact. 

It was perhaps that sight of Even, bent double, shaking, hands clasped about his frame, some breakdown tail end of, that they’d both stumbled in on that had brought the lesson home.  Even had tried, and failed, to simply be what the boy needed.  Ienzo, more canny to the older man’s whiles, had wheeled Ven away.  Some overheard chatter about the ambulance had brought Even to some level of sense, and Even had managed a rather stilted explanation though he shook through the lot.

Different was something Ven was not used too, it was something he’d been shielded from.  Evens level of difference surly seemed madness, but the child, with grief in tow, could not be expected to adjust seamlessly.  The episode was more Even’s fault than anything else, something Even had confessed too.  (“I get these urges, to not be myself.  I think there is a solace in pretending what I’m not , and I should have explained, because that pain would have been so little compared to what this is.”) And the wonder, the shock that had graced the boy’s face (how often had an adult ever admitted fault to him, an error, never so the scientist suspected) but once assured he was not dying  Ven had put the phone down.

Then had promptly broken down.

He’d been scared of being scared, scared that the dark would take him then.  Take him from Ienzo and Even because it’d taken everyone else. Ven couldn’t indulge a part of the dark, that was bad, and he was bad and…

With a sickening crack plastic, and ice, and iced milk, shattered.  Courtesy of the wall and velocity and physical laws he knew by different names than those about him were taught.   Still the facts were the same. And the results predictable. 

And the crack, crash, smash of impact did nothing to alleviate the pain festering in his heart.

Guilt rejoined him, never mind its long absenteeism.  It knew it’s way to his heart quickly, despite all his declarations to the contrary. He should have taken all three… he really should of…

Rationality to the rescue:  But logic, and reasons, and time, and flight and…

And what had it mattered, really, when one boy was dead, and it was his fault.

Chapter Text

Gold's Worth

part 3

If his hands shook, as he ran them through his hair, Even wasn’t one to tell.  Fro a while he stared at nothing and thought nothing, then when the nothingness got to be too much he close his eyes.  Claims to the contrary, the masses did not sleep to light, did not find dreams in the light beyond the eyes.  As soothed as he dared be he bonelessly sprawled on the couch.  Only the niggling of responsibility and some stomping from up high recalling him to said responsibility, got him to open scrunched up eyes. There were damages to consider.  Sparing a glance he assessed the wall.  No dents, but the mess on the floor would be melting shortly and he didn’t want to damage the carpet.

A flick of his gaze and the lot was nicely refrozen with a fresh batch of frost about the lot to round up any rebellious water droplets that had the audacity to form under his negligence.

It took effort to get to sitting; still he managed, seeking support from where there was none.

The parallels were painfully obvious, so much so he winced at their realization and lost his grip.

The fall was minor and there were little damages at its end.  Still he was winded, almost wheezing the blow hit that hard.

Ven had been so happy.  So damned happy.  He shaken off the depression of Vanitas’ death a bit because he had something from the past.  Something untainted, the keystone to how the child defined love and loyalty and it had been untouched by Ven’s Master’s fall.  He’d taken Ienzo a few times to popular public parts of Twilight so that he could acquaint his old family with his new.  And Terra and Aqua had seemed accommodating, of Ven, of Ienzo, of Even and all his little rules and regulations.

Even had not been a trusting man, would never be, he’d watched with grim determination and was prepared to do anything to these interlopers dare they strain his patience an inch.  They’d been baffled by his demeanor, but tolerant of the cold front for Ven’s sake.  As time had passed Even had grown complacent.  Ansem was beyond them, and they were beyond him, they’d all be safe.

After all, Even had played like for like, banning Erauqs from Twilight and the man was civilized unlike certain Kings he’d seemed uninclined to break a word given.

Reasons were simply that, word with clause attached, an agreement of what was expected with expectations, little wonder so few held up.

He’d not expected children to be in cahoots with anything malicious. After all, per Radiant’s laws they’d have five more years before the eldest (Aqua) was considered legal and therefore given leash to indulge all those adult vices of betrayal and prejudice.

He’d not expected duplicity from a man claiming to be a warrior of the light (stupid that, he’d known kings with a hundred flaws who staked similar aspirations saving that enlightenment not the blade, was there route of choice) or even much of a threat.  But neither had he calculated on Aqua being duped or Terra’s docility.  They’d all played into Eraqus’ insane efforts stop Master Xeno-whatever-his name Compile that to Even’s compliancy, helped along by how unarming  a happy Ven was….

 And Ven and Van had suffered for it.

As for how the dead could suffer, simplicity itself, they weren’t dead.

When cruel ploy had failed Eraqus had resorted to abduction by proxy.  Thus Terra and Aqua’s part in this play.  It had been a child’s ploy, so cliché he’d never expected and the retrieval had wrenched more than Ven’s eyes open.

He wondered, idly, how the two other children were doing.  Those that weren’t his, that he would never take in no matter what.

Those best friends of Vens.

Past tense that.  Light and Dark and the void between, he hoped the boy would be resolute in that when he was resolute in so little else!  Because one rescue didn’t redeem a sin that grievous.  Not when there was a ghost made ocular ringed round about the eyes.  A mind once untainted now sullied almost to madness by memories that weren’t his, were never meant to be his.

Even that Dark Keyblade master hadn’t meant it to go that far.  One would destroy the other (Van obviously) with the other unwitting play to his own suicide.  Euthanasia of a sorts before the whole universe was swallowed by a dark as deep as death.

There’d been a mercy in that, cruel yes, but it was more than the light had offered.  The boy’d been awake and broke and both ripped and wrenched by the arcane apparatus he’d been bound to.  Across from him a bloodied set, a match save there was no occupant to make it’s symmetry perfect.

Wavering between fur y and fear, desperation and the resolute urge to freeze the very air in Eraqus lungs and laugh as the bastard drowned in his own blood, Even had only noted the device.  Then his attention had been arrested by screens and reading a language that he only sort of knew.  Whatever was done was done, so said the progress bars, teeth gritting he’d gotten to pulling out needles and disrupting runes so that their excess of mana didn’t flow into the boy and cause some sort of internal damage.

When Ven had not responded to his name, only when Aqua had dared that horrid other name and those eyes had opened gold.  No pupil, no iris, just an expanse of burning feral metallic, then Even had realized just what was complete.

The urge to freeze Erauqs to some floor and leave the man to die of exposure was supplanted by a more driving need.

To keep the contents of his skull inside his head.

It had taken the three of them to subdue the mad thing that had been a child.  A chance of battle, Braig’d call it.  Dodging some light with fangs and chains and fighting the amorphous things  that spawned from shadows rasping secrets a sane mind couldn’t comprehend, and the things that their shadows had become…  It was madness, made madder than mad when some of the girl-wizards spell weaving had ripped a chunk of the chapel’s ceiling and the very sun had turned malicious.  Between biting out healing spells -and the suns very rays were biting back, spans of blistered flesh and charred hair for one and all- and the screams….  Void’s depths the screams that had blended with pleas to make it all stop… it had been nothing less than stupid chance when a light blasted bit of statuary had thrown him out of the scrum.

An impact with a wall and the clatter of medical supplies raining about his ears.  Blinking back stars he’d realized his find, and though inelegant he tossed together a quick tranquilizer.  Daring malicious light and dark and a span where everything had burned he’d bodily tossed himself on the boy, ripping child from a conflict of his soul made material via the arcane.  One physical tussle later, an easy one, considering Even’s height and how small the child was, and they’d been granted a peace of sorts via inoculation.

It wasn’t just the chapel, sans roof, one wall, that bared damages so deep and varied (scorch here, ice bloom there, disquiet dark in some light abandoned corner) that standing was quite the feat.  It could have, should have were he a kinder man, been a moment that bound them together.

With the frustration of betrayal and sheer stupidity, his and there’s, raging in him Even had snapped up what was his and left the other two to pick up the pieces of their lives.

Still, sometimes, when he lingered between exhaustion and benign, he had to wonder, what had they done with the pieces.

As for him, a gesture, more firm than regard refroze what was trying to thaw again, well he knew what he did.  Was doing. Was trying to do.

Breathing was part of it, heart slowed, breath steady he managed for sitting and got to standing with minimal fuss.  Satisfied his balance was sure he dragged himself from spill to kitchen.  A quick hunt found him what he needed.  Ice pick in hand, he took it to stain that was more ice sculpture than anything else.

And tried not to see the parallels, about untenable and excisement, and the fault of ice in it all.

Chapter Text

He had two letter to read, two letters in two languages by his two wards. Perhaps it was a theme of the day? Perhaps not.  Since Ven was more fluent in his mother tongue than in the symbols that Radiant taught it’s children Even let the lingual alteration go uncommented upon.

In truth he had little to say about what he read.

Even read better than he spoke of Ven’s mother tongue.  The conjugations were tricky and he had to mouth a few of the odder words until the phonics helped him puzzle the lot.  A bit of mental stimulation helped to mellow his mood, one that had been… precarious per rumination.

 He was not a cruel man.  Strived to be kinder than the man who had contributed to his birth, and because he strived, and strived so hard, kindness was not an innate trait.  Hence he was not, for it was not natural.  He took to his literature in silence, spared them commentary as he’d not been spared.  His own journals had been bandied about when he was growing up, no secrecy, nor privacy.  In this he spared them.  Satisfied and with plans in motion he set the literature in his lap and got back to eating, joining both children in pedestrian things of consumption.

Ven’s weary “Should we be eating while he isn’t?” was… sweet he supposed others would call it.  Regardless of nominatives the consideration had summoned a smile unrelated to the text.

Ienzo’s “Yes, we always read at the table.” And the resulting squawk of outrage on Ven’s part might have spread that smile a mite wider.

Maybe.

“Ienzo, ask,”  Even growled, dropping whatever mirth he might be showing and stopping the hand that hand been sneaking about plates to their goal with mere inflection.  “Manners.”

The groan was more instinct than out and out defiance, but Even let his regard turn a touch hostile and that stopped any further insolence.

“May I have a roll please, Even.”

“Yes you may.  Mind your tone.”  Tipping his silverware, spoon unused, but considering salad was the repast of the moment such was expected, he sought to spy from an angle… hoping against hope… But nothing, save blue, no matter the angle.  “Salt please Ven.”

To Evens request the boy started, almost hopped and there might have been a glimmer of gold to the boys gaze, just for a moment, but it was buried under a rush of blue.  Satisfied dinner would only be highlighted by drama and nothing dangerous Even took the offering with a thin smile and applied it to the topping to his salad.

If Ven and Ienzo gave him an odd look for his flavoring tastes well that was his decision.

Thinking of Ienzo the boy caught  Evens eye and tipped his head at Ven.  The concern, so openly telegraphed skatted over the othe hcild’s head, but then it always did.  It was not only blantant but justified.  Neither ward not guardian knew how Eraqus had punished his wards, and in all probability Ven had never been bad before.  Purified light incarnate and all that, he’d simply skipped over the impulse of testing boundaries in steed of simply oozing tranquility and quelling darkness about him.  He’d never been angry, or frustrated, nor had he been taught how to deal with those sentiments when they manifested.  Granted Even had been working on it with the child, small progresses all around, and he found that Ven was regularly bottling up most emotions save the approved under his Master. 

Taking that in consideration it was a very good thing it had only escalated to a yelling match.  Arcane expression was still very much a danger but not one scheduled for today it seemed.

He had a limited emotional scale, happiness and hope and good will and good cheer were the most readily to bubble to the surface, but confusion was fast to follow, to snap up to the surface in place when the boy was offered any stimulation of any negative slant.

Does not compute, organic edition.  Chasing a last bit of greenery with a fork Even considered, and the skewered his lettuce leaving a void of pits and scars. When the scrapes and screeches from his side of the table became a mite much Even left the mess, that last bite, spread about a ruin.

If Ienzo was staring at him in concern, well the boy was canny like that and more than recognized when Even was screwing up his nerve for something unpleasant.  Ven had finished wrestling his sandwich and morose mood and was simply busy with bread and sliced cheddar, setting one atop the other and making a sandwich of sorts and eating that with pleasure where he’d grumblingly taken to his salad.

“Ienzo, I want that paper on cure potions to body mass ratio completed. Each step elaborated and explained without any short cuts if you would.   You may use my computer that has no internet access to type the final draft once I’ve seen the second draft.”

Really he might as well said “go play” instead of “slave over paper and formula for the next three hours” considering how cheerfully Ienzo popped out of the chair and got to going.

“Ven, we’ve a surplus of dishes,” none clean now, not that the boy knew that, “I’ll help.” 

Seeing the alarm that offer called forth Even had to consider it was somewhat justified. Remembering his last run in with the plumbing and the damages… but on second thought that was six months ago so how had the boy heard about- Ah, Ienzo the boy did love to trot out tales. Even would have to scold the boy about it next opportunity he got,  “I’ll dry, less likely for damages that way.”

Ven’s answering smile was bright and sunny, all things considered it couldn’t be any other way.

Chapter Text

A Differnt Type of Sanity

part 1

Clasping then setting aside the folded step stool, he leaned it against fridge because there were few other places to set it. The kitchen was really an ambitious nook with shelves too high and tiled floors and a sink piled high with dishes.  Opening one of the cabinets that were all but nailed to the ceiling Even set a towel upon the faux wooden base while a mere step behind him, Ven was fiddling with the water.

“Colder if you would.”  He didn’t have to look back, simply knew that there was steam and that uncanny tension about his shoulders eased only when he knew the water was if not cold at least cool.

“Soap?”  Ven queried.

The boy’d never remember, refraining from rolling his eyes the scientist  murmured, “on the fridge left corner.”  And the scrape and scramble, scramble on Even’s part as there was that need not to  get too close, the proximity was jarring enough without contact, both were situated.  Humming a cheery tone Ven got to cleaning, while Even waited and watched, drying cloth wound about his fingers while the boy worked.

Of course the child had to pick some grating chipper song…

“I will admit,” Even drawled, taking the first glass offered with a grimace.  “I do miss one thing about Radiant, the servants made life so much easier.”

No response, save brush over silverware and a near sizzle as bubbles spawned under the boys scrubbing.

“Did you have servants where you lived?”

“No, we did everything ourselves, cooking, cleaning, and all that.  Except Terra, he couldn’t cook; he just burned everything, so he was banned after we all got sick a few times by Mas- by Him.”

A few forks were thrust his way, scraping off the bubbles he passed one back that had a bit of greenery about the prongs.  After explaining why it was being returned, and pointedly returning it hilt first, and with an order to rinse off the soap pre pass up they went back to work.  Or rather Ven worked, Even waited.

“You didn’t seem to enjoy the meal I made.”  Guilt, near visible in the color spectrum besides, the boy certainly tensed up and was flushing nicely.  “The salad, you only ate under the pressure of our regard and took no pleasure in the eating.”

“I don’t like greens, ‘cept apples, apples are good and green.”

And a fruit, not a vegetable, something Ven might not know the difference between.  Really, good clearly meant being kept stupid if this was the depth of the boy’s practical knowledge.  Checking a sigh of sheer irritation -the child’d misunderstand that it was directed at Erauqs and take up guilt without cause and would not be debased of it without hellish effort- Even added a quick tutorial on practical nutrition to the boys “things we need to learn” list and decided then and there to take the child shopping.  Hands on learning was better than words most times and the child might actually like eating with them if he could pick a few of the meals.

“Not everyone does.”  Was all Even said, keeping plans and pedestrian plots to himself.

“Do you?”

And there… all accidental, the child found a snag of sorts.  There were a number of was Even could respond.  Explain that the minor brain damage he’d sustained while others had inflicted an antidote for the incurable had killed his sense of taste. He could have explained the “disease” which he’d learned years later wasn’t one, could have…  Well what he did was shrug, though the child was ill placed to see it there were enough reflectors about he might be tipped off. “Food’s food young man, as long as it’s not rotting and fills me I scarcely care.”

The next batch of silverware was pointedly not sheathed in suds and not pointing pointedly end at Even.  To that Even smiled.  Smart boy.

“Sooo…”  The boy shuffled, a quick glance over his shoulder told Even the blond.  Once again, ever and always unless chemicals were applied under an adults supervision.  Part of Ienzo’s punishment he was not to cast illusions for a fortnight, that part of the punishment was met with a grumble but Ven’s hair had subsided to natures drive after their chat. A mercy Even was very grateful for.  “Ienzo’s in trouble?”

“Yes, he is.”

Some scrubbing, slower paced then the efforts before, the plate was more than clean, but it got the brush a second time, then a third as some internal vista was contemplated.  More than used to silence, but not liking how he couldn’t see the boy’s expression, or the waters waste, Even cleared his throat.  To that the plate was offered, then retracted and set under the spray so that the soap was off.

“As I’ve stated before, magic is not a toy, but a tool. It is only to be used against others in matters of self-defense.”

Quiet, another plate, than the last came up and the water was turned off.  The boy chased droplets with a sopping cloth, a rather futile effort that Even watched for a little before stepping back then reaching for the contents of another cabinet. Stash of towels taken in stock he decided to waste one and move laundry day up a notch.  One offer latter and the lot was becoming dry instead of smearing about.

“Am I in trouble?”

“Yes because though what Ienzo did was wrong, what you did was wrong too.”

“Two wrongs don’t make a right.”

The last sounded dejected, and recited, an interesting combination that Even did not comment upon.

Save one deviance.  “Yes and no, but then I don’t subscribe to black and white thinking.  Have you ever been in trouble before?”

The head shake and hunched shoulders said a lot.  But not enough not enough that it was safe to make assumptions of a benign sorts.  Here were others to consider.  One other really.

“Has Van ever been in trouble before?”

A jolt, a hop aborted, then the boy looked up, and there was more gold than white to his eyes. The black pupil was a pin prick nearly lost in that unearthly illumination.

“What do you think?”

Most men would have hopped back at the first sign of demonic manifestation. Because that’s what Ven- Vanitus was, a demon child of unhallowed birth by a dark obsessed mad man, stripped of all natural additives that made one able to assimilate into society.  The demon child had no such thing as parents and nurturing and sanity…  Having seen more than one test tube reared subject and having heard all that before Even was unbothered.  Unnatural did not ruffle Even and his heart didn’t even pick up pace as the boy’s dark side glared at him with a regard that burned.  

Well it itched, and inspired a mild headache when the gaze was met head on. 

Really it was nothing to get excited about.

The first time this had happened in Aeleus’ presence the man had drawn blade from earth and… well they weren’t welcome in that part of Radiant anymore.  Aeleus might have a warrant for his arrest, though the bail prices were absurdly small so that Even could have let the man get caught, paid it, paid off the judges, and the ban would be done. Aeleus never was willing to cooperate with the idea, treating Even as mad when he mentioned it and had stayed away from Radiant ever after.

Except for holidays, Ienzo would throw a fit if the man weren’t about for those.

Had it been anyone but Aeleus Even’d had said something about little people and their superstitions but Aeleus was one of the smartest people in Even’s acquaintance and was massive besides, none of the descriptors fit so Even smirked and savored the clash of it all.

To a smile, Ven… Van… the boy simply started at it losing some of his hostility to confusion.

“What’s so funny?”

“Something completely unrelated to your present state I assure you.”  Even grinned.  “But I do thank you for making me think upon it.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Among other things.  And we’ve a talk to have, one about what’s expected and what has happened before.”  Gold eyes dimmed, their illumination dulling from a cameras flash (save without the ending, it blazed and burned without dulling or even the distance of a microscopes ocular filters between him and it) to something that barely touched the boy’s lashes with a breath of glow.

“I don’t understand…”

“Then permit me the pleasure of elaborating, in long monologue laden with endless detail.  I’d recommend a touch of water, and even if you don’t want one fetch me a cup, the plastic one please, we’ll meeting the living room once you’re situated.”

And with that Even was gone, boots clicking against a substance styled after tile and crossing that floor for a carpet that wasn’t thick enough to hide the fact the base was concrete.

Chapter Text

Folded pages

Sanity part 2

The thread was curled until it coiled, changing from its norm, a trio of lines, by knots and twining of a benign sort. In short it was a curious coagulation of pull and take, a physics problem on a minute scale. As even watched, and perhaps applied a equation to the whole, the boy continued to work, forming an inward spiral interspaced by bindings knits and criss-crosses that made the coil more artistic than say the burner it once resembled. Yellow was the bulk, the main, color, with the red and green counterparts mere accents to the sunny whole.

It was a plodding sort of effort, one that resulted in string being wheeled up an inch at a time, still considering the project was settled in the child’s lap and the dangling threads barely tickled the boy’s knees it seemed safe to assume the lot almost done.

Boy and project took up half of the couch, Even for his part occupied a fraction of the other half, snuggling against the arm, book unread and clasped in his hand. In truth he didn’t want to bother with pretending to read, he watched and waited. He’d never bothered with busy tasks, the whole of arts and crafts was irritating (the tactile sensation torturous in his worse days distracting at their best) to do, but he didn’t mind watching someone else indulge in the silliness.

Finally curiosity got the better of him, considering his profession it was a matter of time. “What is it?”

“Dreamcatcher.”

“And that is?”

Sugar sweet incarnate of light notwithstanding Ven was an adolescent and the look tossed his way smacked of pubescent mix match of irritation, subdued superiority complex, with a bad of pity tabbed on besides. Al in all it was a rather unpleasant draft to be offered. Wrinkling his nose Even watched as attitude was realized then retracted with an internal monologue no less if the wince and flush about the cheeks meant anything.

“It uh… it catches bad dreams.”

Reclining against muffled edge Even considered boy and project, lips quirking in something akin to scorn.

“You assume that dreams are born of anything save the subconscious.”

Though small the boy’s hands were calloused and quick, a few knots was really only a few ticks of the clock. Save they owned no clock and because of that deprivation, and no sun outside to shift shadows, time was harder to gauge. Thus they were reduced to moments. More than a tick, less than an hour, descriptors would just have to do for them for now.

“Back…” Home, something didn’t need to be said. “Well they used to say that bad dreams were servants of the dark. Discordant things.”

Unversed? The idea there-of perhaps, which was the beginning of a festering problem that this Dark whats-his-name wished to start whole worlds down and submerge life in dark never mind the stagnation on extreme would entail? Even tasted the words, mulled over the questions they might lead to, the answers obligations further knowledge might engender.

“Have Ienzo show you some of his books on sleep at a later time, it might prove enlightening.” Was… well not quite an evasion of responsibility, really it wasn’t. “Do you wear it, on your sleeve, or stitch it upon a hat to wear before you sleep?”

“No… you hang it over your bed.” Under Even’s unblinking consideration the boy flushed, a flash of gold colored his eyes but was extinguished under the force of a blink. “You think I’m wrong.” Van murmured tracing knots with a digit.

“I never said that.”

“Ienzo’s only got science books. And I bet one of those science books is about how you think dreams work.”

A chuckle was Even’s response. While the boy worried over a knot Even got on with the task of easing the book down, closing it, before allowing it a short free fall to the floor. “Yes, you’ve quite caught me out. I hope he would indulge his dream literature upon you. I’m a vile influence I know.”

“Because I’m wrong.”

“For someone so young you are awful hung up on right and wrong.” Even noted, lips curling a mite, it was a tight bitter smile. “I hope you’ll learn as you get older that wrong and right aren’t horridly useful tools. They muddy thinking more than straighten it. Perhaps I wish him to share his book, and for you to share your tales about these catchers, and nothing more.”

“Perhaps?”

Blue and only blue looked up upon him. Still the smile offered was almost sardonic. Even slowed his breathing, least his heart pick up pace with a show of unseemly flutter of pride.

“They’re good books, a bit whimsical for my taste, but Ienzo likes soft sciences as well as the hard.” To the baffled look Even softened his tone. “The workings of the mind are twofold. The chemistry.. the things that move around cause things to happen, measuring, weighing those chemicals and gauging their physical effects on the brain would be hard sciences. A soft science would be like… trying to figure out if say… thinking certain things a day can change a behavior. Like thinking positively, will that make a person more positive or just be a mental chore? Ienzo favors the soft sciences, though his tastes are not a carte blanche for him to disregard the physical workings of the world and under me he is trained in both.”

Running a hand through blond locks, more prickle and spike than anything else Ven considered something, twiddled on an idea and weighed whether or not to voice it.

“You… talk like he’s your student..”

To that bit of simplicity Even smirked.

“He is, apprentice snatching I one of my many sins.”

Fingers slid over cords and ridges, back and forth, finally the child said. “You say that so easily.”

“It means less and more to me than it does you.” A rustle of paper, as a page was pulled out from a coat pocket. Even was never without his coat, and never was it anything but white. “Language is one of the issues I suppose, emphasis another.” Tapping the page, the boy’s letter, against his knee, Even watched as recognition dawned.

Waited for it truth be told.

“Speaking of language, we’ve a bit to cover, don’t we?”

“I… um…”

“I’d appreciate it if you read this, out loud, in my tongue. I want there to be no mistakes, in what you said and meant.” Taking in the boy’s slack jawed appearance the man sighed. “Once your mouth is functional, of course.”

With a click the boys mouth snapped shut, and now it was Even’s turn to wait, to fiddle, though he simply played with the edge of his coat, finding a button in proper grasping range he ran the smooth circumference over his stained fingers instead of playing with knots.

“Why?”

The tone was too much a tangle, really it was pick and choose your meaning. So Even didn’t. Simply sought the best path he could.

“Because I was wrong in what I did and here we are, picking up the pieces.” He offered the page, and when the child took it from him, wondering, the man grimaced. “Because there’s this litany in the back of my head, about how I should have, or if I could have that things would be better. If I were a wiser man, you would not have these burdens, if I were a stronger man what happened to Ienzo wouldn’t have. You see child… this isn’t my first mistake. It won’t be my last. I’ll fuel the Dark with my doubts and worries and pettiness for a long long time because I won’t allow it to be the last time. I’ll pick over the grounds of my vices, of myself because I am a man of my vices and virtues both. And I’ll do this, this awful thing of making mistakes and amends and living for as long as I need to to get this right.”

Silence, breathes and ticks and moments faded away in monologues sake. Indulging that bit of living Even took a sip, forged gnawing and had a shaky span where breathing hurt for the jags he partook. The next bit of water was slower, more careful, and even with the ice to brace the rim it was less than half full at necessities end.

“Part of getting something right, young man, is learning from what I did wrong. So, if you could, begin from the top and read me the lot.”