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Strategy meetings with Tibarn’s left hand and right hand proved tiresome, these days. Tibarn is only dimly aware of the heated debate between his trusted advisors, this time pertaining to Reyson’s diet. His Eyes, who is of the opinion that Reyson could most definitely enjoy seaweed– it’s green after all, so it must be heron-friendly, and his Ears, who is convinced that no bird could ever enjoy such an unpalatable slimy mess, duke it out in a conversation that could never remain civil for long.
It’s when the comparisons to glorified parakeets and omelets for brains are thrown around that Tibarn briefly considers replacing the two for advisors with a penchant for agreeing with one another. “Enough. If I didn’t know better, I’d mistake you both for fledglings having gone without supper. We’ll try the seaweed.”
Janaff preens, opening his mouth to declare his victory–
“And Janaff will dive for it himself. Ensure that enough is acquired for the four of us.”
Janaff splutters. “Me?”
Ulki splutters, quite uncharacteristically. “Four?”
“Yes, you, and yes, four. If we aren’t joining Reyson on this, then he’ll sulk.” And Goddess knows Reyson doesn’t need another reason to feel like a burden. “We’ll say it’s a Phoenician delicacy and enjoy our meal together, and if Reyson likes it then he can have that.”
Janaff and Ulki stare at him, unconvinced and mostly appalled.
“Enough of that.” Tibarn waves them away with a rough motion. “Reyson spent a week showing me the contents of his guts just because you two thought it was a great idea to feed him a fish while I was out, so now you’re going to have a plate of seaweed tonight. Begone.”
Janaff takes off to his new duty with a groan, and Ulki leaves without another word.
A moment’s breath is taken to calm Tibarn’s heart. Truth be told, his patience for the two’s antics had quickly waned while Reyson was under his care– the responsibility of Reyson’s well-being weighed heavily on his heart. He would have to make it up to them, later.
–
Tibarn, Reyson, and Janaff wait for their meal.
“It’s not often that we eat something other than fish in Phoenicis,” Tibarn prompts, giving Janaff a glare to continue talking.
“Y-yeah! Seaweed. Love it. You know, fish come from the sea too, so it’s like all one big salty soup! ..Yeah.”
Tibarn cannot imagine a worse string of words, and prays for Ulki to come quickly.
“Oh?” Reyson says flatly. It’s a question, but does not inspire an answer. Tibarn doubted even Janaff could spot a speck of interest in that voice. Tibarn recognized it all too well– Reyson may be at the table physically, but he was nowhere near Phoenicis in his mind.
Ulki interrupts birdkind’s most uncomfortable dinner conversation by entering with four plates. It seemed that even Phoenicis’ finest cook could not make a meal like this seem appetizing to a hawk. It was difficult to put a finger on which aspect Tibarn disliked the most; could it be the similarity to hair, or the slimy glisten of each strand?
“Thanks, Ulki,” Tibarn recovers, before his mind could drift to the idea of consuming the meal. He glances at Reyson, who stares at the dish blankly. Janaff is wincing. Tibarn kicks him under the table.
Tibarn clears his throat. “Well, let’s dig in!” As always, he is to lead by example, so he enthusiastically spears a fork full of seaweed, sticking it into his mouth before he could decide against the action.
“Mm!” It’s like drinking seawater and chewing on hair at the same time. Tibarn briefly wonders if all vegetables are like this. “Such texture!” Tibarn gulps it down, lowering the time it’s in his mouth.
Ulki and Janaff look on, horrified. Reyson appears to not have noticed.
Tibarn glares at the hawks expectantly. Luckily, they get the signal.
Ulki is more measured and precise in his approach. A small bite for him, patient chewing, and a quick swallow. Janaff takes more to Tibarn, trying to get it over with as soon as possible.
Tibarn ignores Janaff’s paling constitution as he turns to Reyson, who still hasn’t picked up a fork. “Reyson? Try some.”
Reyson’s mind appears to return to Phoenicis. He takes his fork and scoops the tiniest amount of the seaweed up into his mouth. His face is unreadable as he chews and swallows.
“And? How-”
Reyson cuts Tibarn off by slamming his palms on the table– any semblance of decorum is cut short with Reyson’s scathing words. “This isn’t necessary– the acting. You don’t need to coddle me. I’ve had enough, thank you for the meal.” Reyson abruptly excuses himself and leaves the hall.
Janaff and Ulki exchange glances as Tibarn follows suit. “Reyson– wait!” A small sigh of exasperation escapes his lips. “Clean this up. Talk later.”
Tibarn calls out as Reyson heads for his room; a poised anger accentuate Reyson’s steps in a way only a heron could conjure.
“Reyson. Hey, I’m sorry.” Tibarn catches up, clasping Reyson’s shoulder to get the Heron to listen. Reyson spins on his heel, jerking his shoulder away with a near hiss.
It was a common dance. Tibarn could never guess how to treat Reyson; a fractured piece of glass that demanded no special handling. And yet, it was Tibarn’s responsibility to ever balance Reyson’s feelings and Reyson’s care. More dangerous waters had not yet been charted..
“Why do you do that? I’ve told you many times, I don’t need your special accommodations– I’m not your fledging for you to hover over all day. Your idea of protecting me and my feelings is demeaning.”
Tibarn hates this. Had it been anybody else… Tibarn would resolve this by raising his voice. By telling Reyson what an incredible ass he could be at times, taking on more than his body could handle. By reminding Reyson of his place in the world. By promising that Reyson would have everything he wanted, given more time. If only he were more patient, he would not have to become a hawk.
But he could not, for Reyson would break. Shatter. And Tibarn feared what that might do to himself.
“... Your hands,” Tibarn says quietly. “You’re bleeding.”
Reyson deflates, looking down at them. It was true. His fist clenched so tight, it was only now that he could feel the nails in his skin and the pain in his joints.
Tibarn gingerly takes Reyson’s hands in his own, gently coaxing each finger to relax so he could see the damages.
“Come. Let me take care of it.” It is not the Hawk King speaking, but Reyson’s friend.
Reyson bristles briefly.
“...Okay.”
–
Tibarn tends to Reyson’s hands, wrapping them up with a long strip of white cloth. “Just like mine.” Tibarn comments drily, comparing their hands.
Reyson is far away again.
Tibarn places his hand on Reyson’s forearm, hoping to summon him back to Phoenicis. “Hey. I’m sorry.” He finds himself apologizing to Reyson often. “I was an ass. I should have just explained it to you. No act. And you could have decided if you wanted to try it or not. And I’d try it with you, even if it sucks.”
Reyson seems to weigh the apology in his mind. “You were. And you should have.” A pause. “... And I would have liked to try it. With you. And it did ‘suck’, for the record. I think I might have preferred giving the fish a second go over this,” he jokes.
Tibarn smiles, grateful to have Reyson back. He squeezes Reyson gently. “No more fish. And no seaweed either.”