Another day, another project, as it was often for Attikias. Today's project- nothing special, he thought, especially since it was more Thalia's forte. He'd gotten some help from her in terms of what sounded good or didn't, but here he sat with his instrument board, plucking away for some sort of tune to show the others.

He thought it sounded good so far, albeit a little repetitive, but it gave him something to focus on rather than other things. Vivilene, in particular, was on his mind a lot-- and maybe that wasn't fair. But, all of his other kids seemed to be able to take care of themselves (and some violently so), but Vivilene was... Fragile. Like a piece of gossamer.

Anne was like that too, somewhat, but Attikias didn't think she'd ever show it. He needed to make some sort of lotion for her- there were the flowers James had brought, and he'd used them as soap more than enough times, but something thicker would be good for her skin.

And then there was Hunter, always getting into scrapes, and Attikias always healed him up from some sort of tumble, no matter how small. Maybe he doted too much, but Hunter was always wandering, so it was always a treat to have him back every once in a while.

Attikias looked up to the cave ceiling through the veil of leaves, squinting to the bulb that lay far above. But, yes- it was Vivilene he was worried about, her friendliness to monstrous beings and general sense of awkwardness. Not that he'd tell her that, of course- how could he? No, sighing, Attikias looked back down to his instrument and continued plucking minutely. It was coming along- of course it was- but something still felt missing.

A lot of things felt missing.

Attikias frowned, minutely, huffing out gently through his nose.

@Anastasia

If you were to ask, Anastasia wouldn't exactly define herself as the jealous type.

She was come-and-go, as Vivilene seemed to be developing or some reason or another. Anne often did her own thing; she left the camp without saying anything and ran to Shiloh in Orion just about every day. She snuck out for days at a time to find things for Shiloh; she came back when she needed something for Shiloh, and slept at the camp when Shiloh's mother told her to go see her father before he'd start to worry.

And she wondered, as she lounged on her assigned sleeping space, lined with blankets and little baubles Shiloh had given her, did he worry? Was Attikias like this the whole time, those days she spent with her? Did he fret his hands the way he did now, take to overdoing and overthinking and hardly sleeping?

Somehow, Anne didn't think so.

It'd been at least a solid month since Anastasia last snuck out the camp. She only went to see Shiloh if she absolutely had to, and that in itself made her increasingly upset. She felt caged, and it didn't help when she, time and time again, bottled up her feelings.

Those feelings, Shiloh didn't have to know about. Anne didn't want to ruin her friendship with her and she was afraid, whenever she saw her, that she might do something stupid. She didn't want to say the wrong thing, or concede to her feelings. She didn't want to gasp when Shiloh's fingers found hers and she didn't want to smell her hair when they hugged. She didn't want to resist holding Shiloh by the face, so gently, and--

Anastasia rolled over in her nest.

Maybe it was why she got so upset when she saw Attikias working again. Maybe she was jealous of the attention he'd give to his eldest daughter. This-- being here --was the only thing Anne had left. She couldn't go back to Shiloh anymore and she couldn't talk to anyone about it. She'd be a freak.

Maybe that's why she chided, "you have to sleep, dad," to him in a tone much harsher and steelier than she'd like. Maybe that's why she was getting up with her pale brow furrowed, lingering outside her tent to face him.

"She's not a kid anymore," Anne said. "She's the oldest. She'll be fine."

@Attikias

Attikias's eyes jolted up- just his eyes- when Anne spoke up. He was quiet for a along moment after that, his hands stilling as it set in what she said. You have to sleep. Attikias tried his best not to sigh, eyebrows furrowing for a second before he placed the instrument beside him.

He was barely looking at her when she continued to speak. Of course she'd be fine. None of them were kids anymore. And yet, as he said this to himself, repeating Anne's word in his head, twinges still threatened to snap in his heart, and he shut his eyes for a brief moment before turning to face Anne.

He'd put on a warm face, though it felt restrained, as it always was when he'd been worrying. "You're right," he sighed out, eyes dodging contact with Anne's. Imagine, being lectured by his own daughter. Of course it'd come to that, and he shook his head, rubbing his jaw. "She's not--"

He shut his eyes tight. No, he was making excuses, and he let his shoulders drop as he tensed his hands together in his lap. Slowly, he looked back up to Anne, gears turning for just what he should say.

He was playing favorites. He knew that. He tried, so hard, not to- but it was hard to not worry about Vivilene, compared to the others. "You're not a kid either- not much anymore, at least. Even if she's oldest, she takes on so much without realizing, and she's never seemed-- ready, to grow up, not like the rest of your siblings." His hand moved as he talked, though not much else did.

"It's not-" and he choked, here, uncertainty plain on his face. "It's not just her. It's-- that Greater I accidentally trapped, people I should talk to-" He shook his head. "I'm sorry I haven't spent a lot of time with you. I don't mean to be making excuses."

At least, he hazarded the guess at what to say with that.

@Anastasia

Anne didn't find any comfort in Attikias's words. They frustrated her more, made her angrier-- and while she acknowledged that this might be wholly unfair on him, it was taking her mind off Shiloh, and for the time being, that's all that mattered.

"Maybe she's not ready to grow up because you never let her," Anne scoffed. "You're always coddling her and making her stuff. You treat her differently from how you treat the rest of us."

Oh, yes. This was anger-- frustration and upset boiled in her chest like bile, scorching the back of her throat. Anastasia could have been sick right then and there from the wash of emotion, but instead of the contents of her guts spewing up, it was words.

"But you are making excuses, dad," she spat, face wrinkling. "There's always a reason why you can't do something-- there's always some higher power stopping you from doing something. If you have to talk to people, you go talk to them. If you trap somebody, you help them and ask how you can make it up to them. If your kid leaves, maybe it's because she got sick of you treating her like a little baby."

She huffed through her nose, rage building. "You're lucky none of us are kids anymore," she said. "We'd be fending for ourselves if you kept flaking out for days at a time."

@Attikias

Attikias held back a wince at Anne's berating. She was right, and he was just taking the piss out of pitying himself- breathing in, Attikias sat up straighter and let her talk unflinchingly. He let her get through it, let her tell him the frustrations.

And then he stood. There was a long breath as he settled himself in, piecing together the parts of himself in his mind and presenting a determined face, hands folding in front of himself. "I treat her differently because--" He stopped, jaw clenching for a second. No. That was another excuse, and he shook his head. "I treat her differently. And I alienated you, and your siblings, in the process." One hand perched on the worktable he'd sat by, eyebrows fully furrowed as he placed what he needed to say bare.

"I have--" One hand came up to explain, but he paused, drawing it back to his face and dragging it down. It stayed over his mouth- not fully, but enough, enough to let him think for a moment. "I don't just think about her. I try to keep healing things close, for when Hunter comes back, bring him new tools to use- I make songs for Thalia, I try to impress her, because she's so much better at music than me- I wanted to take you and Shiloh on a trip, to let you guys be alone for a while, with all the hard things taken care of. I worry about you, too, when you're gone, but I trust you. When you were younger, when I left you with Dip-- I was worried so hard if you'd get hurt while you're gone. I don't-- worry, as much, with Hunter or Erebos or Angela, because I've seen them get hurt and bounce back. And you get hurt, and you're fine, too. Even--" He paused, then sighed. "Even Vivilene."

He glanced away again, just for a moment, and that worrying feeling threatened to take over his streak of determination. "I am lucky you're not kids. I'm lucky I don't have to worry about you guys, but I still want to take care of you. I thought you'd want that independence, that you wouldn't want me breathing down your necks for all eternity. But I did it wrong, I'm playing favorites, and I don't want to be." He paused here, for a moment, hand tensing. "I'm not perfect. I'll never be perfect, but I want to be the best I can be as your dad. And-- I don't know what I'm doing. And that's affecting you--"

He shut his eyes tight again, his hand coming back up to rub the bridge of his nose. "No. No more excuses." His hand dropped, and he steeled himself again, jaw clenching once more. "There's things I haven't told you, and things I don't know myself. There's-- so much death in these caves, Anne." He sat, slowly, letting out a drawn out sigh.

"I don't want to lose you."

@Anastasia

The anger built and it built and suddenly it was a coppery taste in her mouth as she bit the inside of her cheek, a hot flush in her face and pain behind her very eyes. It built and it built and it

stopped.

It wasn't relief. It wasn't anything resembling that-- it was a different wave of emotion that sent thorns prickling throughout her body. A rare wash of sadness that Anastasia wasn't entirely accustomed to.

For the first time in a long time, Anastasia felt like a child. Unsure of what to say and unsure if she entirely understood what Attikias was trying to tell her. It almost didn't register at all; it felt like he was speaking a different language, one that she couldn't quite understand.

Her tail lashed and she fretted at the cloth around her chest. "I want independence," she said in a smaller voice. "But that doesn't mean I don't want you around. I don't want you to ignore me. I can't see Shiloh anymore, I--"

She trailed off and she almost choked. She pleaded Attikias to just get it-- he did with Vivilene, all the time, without her saying a single thing. She wanted him to understand, that she had nothing left, that she was lost without her friend and she was better off dead without what remained of her family.

Dead. Death. They weren't things she'd ever really encountered before. She had the vaguest idea of it; cave deer and rabbits had to die so that they could eat, and Shiloh's mom kept making all sorts of things that would either kill something else, or protect something from getting killed.

She'd never really questioned what else needed killing, or what people needed protection from.

Anastasia sat down on a small log stool; her nose crinkling as she perched her elbows on her thighs, hands clasping together. "Well, what are they?" She asked. "We can't protect ourselves if you never tell us about what's out there."

At least this path of dialogue would keep her mind off her.

@Attikias

Attikias leaned forward, struggling and failing to hide the worry in his expression. Fear was beginning to rise to the back of his tongue, and he realized what he said.

He didn't want to lose her.

It was true. He didn't want to lose her, physically or otherwise- and he'd had no one to grieve with. Were Astraea's words still hanging over him? Attikias swallowed, looking down to the dirt for a moment as his mind ran circles around itself, mismatched eyes searching for nothing.

'I can't see Shiloh anymore.' Attikias's eyes snapped up, and his face drew tight in severe concern. What was wrong with Shiloh? He thought they were close as could be, and he encouraged them to meet often- did something happen, last time? Perhaps now wasn't the time to press, as she choked and went quiet.

Attikias was lost. He understood Vivilene because he saw much of himself in her, much of Azizos who he'd gotten close to and hadn't seen in so long. Anne was so much like Lyra, too- muted, by his own confidence, warping into a geode ready to cave in under enough pressure. Had he said the wrong thing, then, had he pushed her too much, gotten too angry? She wasn't angry anymore, but she was nearly crying.

Attikias's throat locked up. Anne had moved, and Attikias watched as she sat, composing herself. There was that Anne-brand confidence, and it tugged at his heart to see it turned on him.

He was quiet for a moment, hands together and fingers rubbing over one another. Eventually, he spoke, standing and watching Anne with a sadness at the corners of his eyes. "I can't tell you a lot of things, because I don't know what they are." He moved to across from her, giving her space, sitting at the log pit. Here, he could reach over, perhaps- and he wanted to, to hug her, to hold her, but she wanted to know the truth more than that. Breathing in, Attikias unlatched the stone knife's sheath from his belt and laid it in his lap.

"What I do know, is that there are people who will hurt you. For power, for glory, for warped beliefs- it doesn't matter. I've had monsters come into our camp and destroy our things. I've heard of dragons breathing fire over unsuspecting Gembound, of beings throwing themselves into a desert only to die for glory, their gems unrecoverable." He looked aside, his hand on the hilt of the knife. "When I was younger, I thought I wanted to be one of those. I wanted to be a hunter, to kill to be noticed, and I thought I'd do good by taking out the bad people in this world. But-- I never had a chance to find her, the so-called bad guy. I've heard nothing about her, either- she may be dead, or in a chrysalis, or any number of things."

His hand let go of the knife's hilt and hovered over the sewn leather of its sheath. "I was given this knife over a year ago. It captures the-- essence, or magic, or something, of a being when it's killed with it, and stores it in here, to carve an effigy of it later. I've only done it once, and the figure still cries as if I'm killing it, over and over." He tensed his hand around the end of the sheath, eyes shutting for a moment.

"In exchange, the Collector wants the carving of a Greater that I kill with this knife. It was an 'if'- 'if' I kill someone with this. I never--" He choked here, teeth gritting for a moment before he hissed out a breath.

"I thought I'd want to kill with it. I found excuses, got myself into fights to use it in. It-- corrupted me. It would have corrupted any other person who wanted the deal over, and I fear to think of what other exchanges the Collector's asked for. People like that- people with these weapons, these things, that give them an inflated sense of power-- The caves are full of them. And you won't know who is like that." He let go of the knife, staring down at it, before glancing up to Anne.

"I don't tell you these, because I don't want you to worry. There's death around every corner, but around the next there's life. But, so often, people die in these caves, and they'll be gone forever. From Lessers, to Greaters, the caves have had such violent history that I don't want any of my family caught up in it." He shook his head, looking down to buckle the knife again if Anne hadn't asked for it.

@Anastasia