He’s been practicing his sneaking. He’d always had a preference for those sorts of exercises, the ones that promoted agility and gracefulness, but he’s taken it to a whole new level. He’d always mostly blown off Brennen’s attempts to teach him to fight, peaceful even from the very youngest age, but he’d absorbed the lessons that weren’t really about violence. There had been a period when not even the most intense of practice could help him – those gangly weanling and yearling limbs had been impossible to control; no mental fortitude could help. But he’s finally outgrown that disaster, and now he’s sneaking.
 

On his father. The famed warrior and newly minted magician. Maertin wonders, briefly, if he’s been body swapped with his more impulsive twin, or his half-sister Blue.
 

The thing is, father is not good. He’s got the sickness, and he is refusing to do anything about it. And for the most part, there’s not much Maertin can do about it either. It’s not like many sick people are stupid enough to come around Brennen’s children and risk the man’s wrath, so he’s been living a sheltered and useless life. But Maertin knows that father has been out and about doing some healing of his own, and he’s decided it’s the least he can do to heal father so that father can heal others.
 

The problem being, of course, that Brennen has already told him ‘no’. Quite firmly. Several times. Hence the sneaking.
 

It’s rare to catch Brennen asleep but his children are some of the rare few that won’t trigger his silent magical alarms. Maertin is walking as silently as he can to avoid waking his sire physically; if he can get close without waking the normal side of Brennen, he’s confidence that he can snuggle up beside the bay without causing his father to become suspicious enough to wake. It’s painstakingly slow, each step so careful he barely moves forward, but finally the chestnut boy reaches the winged man’s side without any mishap. With a quiet, silent joy reminiscent of his childhood he lowers his head and slips under one large dark wing. He doesn’t fit quite so neatly as he used to, but as he leans against his father the man doesn’t move, his heartbeat and breathing steady.
 

Maertin takes a moment simply to bask in Brennen’s soothing presence, before reaching into the magic. It’s convenient that they live here, in Nerine, where they are always close to his strengthening element. The ebb and flow of the tides is clear in his mind as he tries to wrangle the disease inside of Brenenen.

Maertin

don't just sit with folded hands and become blind

Usually, Maertin would be more aware of his twin’s presence. They are not inseparable but they are usually aware of each other; but Maertin had been so focused on sneaking up on Brennen that he hadn’t had any energy left to be aware of his twin. And after that, it had taken all of his energy to try and do the healing. He should not be surprised, either, to feel his efforts bolstered by his father. He should not have been surprised that he failed to really sneak up on Brennen; still he can’t help but huff his displeasure at failing even as his father is speaking gently, and grooming him affectionately.


He still jumps slightly when Qaen rushes over to them, sparking and shimmering. He smiles sleepily at his twin. “Thanks Q,” he summons the energy to respond and then is quiet a moment, absorbing the full impact of his venerable father apologizing to him, as if he is an equal and not just a child. He knows, of course, that his father loves them but he has always felt Brennen’s respect is harder to earn than his love. He wants, someday, to earn it. Still, he rallies a little bit and peeks up at Brennen with an expression that, though muted by weariness, can only be called mischievous.


“Does that mean I can start trying to heal people, papa?” Because he wants to, oh he wants to, and this seems like a good time to ask. Brennen is ever more reasonable in this mood than many of his others.

Maertin

don't just sit with folded hands and become blind