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The storms over Memorial were familiar, truth be told.
Each deep, heavy roll of thunder transported him back a thousand light-years and all the way to a high-fenced yard and a narrow, three-storey house bought just before traffic overhead had found a way to make itself an issue. The air in each moment of silence smelled the same; how was that even possible?
Castis still didn’t sleep well.
No longer the oppressive heat of Kadara perhaps, but there were still plenty of pointless reasons his subconscious refused to release its death-grip on his anxiety and kept him pacing a new track into the stone floor of his home, sleepwear soaking with sweat. Even drugs didn’t help that.
Avitus did. Avitus helped considerably on the nights when he was still awake when it all started up of, spirits forbid, he woke him whilst escaping his clutches.
Aside from that, his uneasy partner was impossible to rouse these day, leaving him free to switch the lights in the main living room on and to pace until his thoughts gave out and the sofa provided easy respite for an hour or so, all before starting up again.
That was new, actually- when had Avitus become such a deep sleeper that he could ignore such a thing from the next room and with the door between them open? Part of why they had coped cohabiting previously had been a mutual understanding of insomnia but… it seemed that the new Avitus had outlived all of his demons and earned his rest. Not just five hours of it, nor even the six that was considered to be a lazy night for a turian but seven and a half as standard now.
Once, he’d counted it up - between his midday nap, dozing off in front of the vid-screen and the extra hours he stole from the night, the former insomniac terrorist could bank ten hours easily.
What a privilege that was, truth be told.
Now if only he could do the same.
At the end of his hundred and first lap of the starting-to-wear-in path he’d made in between the edge of the sofa and the back door, attracted by the call of nostalgia hiding in between the bellowing wind and booming thunder, Castis went outside.
Despite the conditions and the exposed, hilltop location of their home, the breeze outside was little more than pleasant - joys of the trees they had planted to act as a wind-break. He’d… not even considered doing anything like that, but it had been Avitus who’d brought it up. “Needs trees between us and the wind.” He’d rasped as though it were simply common sense. “Trees there’ll also block the summer afternoon burn.” And, before he’d even had time to wonder who this environment-conscious person was and what they’d done with his Avitus who’d grown up in a concrete jungle, his subvocals had slipped towards regret-nostalgia-longing and he’d seen fit to elaborate. “Mace- his family’s place had an orchard behind it. Bedrooms looked onto it, got shade and wind protection from it. Maybe in thirty years the trees’ll be big enough for a treehouse too.”
And Castis hadn’t had it in him to be anything but keen to offer him that shred of reminiscence.
For all that he and Macen had had tragically little time together, the every way in which the stranger had stamped himself into Avitus’ soul was appreciable and worth encouraging him to show; he truly had done him so much good in so little time, all without Avitus knowing any of it. In the next life, perhaps, he’d get a chance to thank him for the path he’d started him down - or better yet Barro would get to see for himself what his love had done for someone who’d once called themselves unloveable. And then, also what would a decade of being cared for have done for him?
With the rain hammering down, a near opaque sheet beyond the edges of the low-slung porch, he didn’t spare any attention to his surroundings on his way to the bench seat, already looking forwards to flicking on the space heater that lived beside it for just this-
“Castis?”
He blinked. Registered that one side of the bench was already occupied, heater switched on to provide more warmth still than the blankets the unexpected guest must have brought with them could offer.
Big, yellow eyes stared up at him. Eyes which had never quite lost the look of mistrust towards anyone aside from Avitus and his adoptive parents. Hardly surprising considering what little he knew of his life prior to them but… a shame all the same in a child who’d been as young as he had been when every tragedy in his life had occurred.
Wasn’t his adoptive grandfather evidence enough though that the scars from difficult formative years never truly left a person?
“Des.” He greeted, opting to sit precisely where he had intended to do so, regardless of visitor. And then concern flickered across his mind- “Do your parents know where you are?”
The boy shrugged, shrinking further into himself at having company. He… hadn’t expected either of them to be awake, had he? “They’re both busy with the baby- she wouldn’t stop screaming and Mom couldn’t get her to sleep and…” He trailed off. Made himself smaller still than he had any right to be for a child of his age.
This, admittedly, was something Castis felt that he wasn’t truly prepared to handle, no matter the fact that he’d raised two children of his own. Sol may have been a quiet child and Garrus fearful when he’d been very small but… neither one had lacked confidence, especially not by the time they had been nine and halfway to being adults. Des though? Strong-willed as he might be on solid ground, his attitude deserted him far too easily when faced with stress or the unfamiliar. Again, deep-rooted scars.
“Your sister more than likely is in pain from the storm.” He informed him, hoping that he had correctly discerned what it was that had pushed the child to leave home and trek halfway up the hill to take shelter at their home instead. At least, given that his clothes and dull, fawn plates were dry, he seemed to have done it before the skies had opened on them. “The pressure changes hurt fledgelings and the thunder can be scary on top of that- she’s too small to understand what is going on, after all.”
Another shrug, eyes downcast. “Maybe.” The label in the corner of the blanket was fiddled with, passed between nubby talons that he knew were kept short as much so he did not injure his alien parent as out of habit. Then the boy broke, subvocals veering into guilt. “I just hate- I know it’s not her fault but she makes me so mad with the crying and… and…” If he wrapped himself up any tighter, there was a real risk the child might smother himself out of existence entirely; which was more than likely his intention, truth be told. “I feel like I’m being a bad big brother when I get angry an’ I can’t be around her an’ they don’t get it.”
Ah, the self-perceived crimes of being too young to fully understand the emotions he was feeling… “Des, did Av- I mean, your grandpa, ever tell you who you were named for?” The child shook his head. He took a moment to collect his thoughts- to consolidate what he knew of the tale and the reasons for having picked that name out of every possible option at their disposal. “A very long time ago now, your grandpa had a friend so close he considers him to have been a brother. This friend saved his life and gave him a job- in no small part made him the person he is today.” Both for better and for worse; perhaps Avitus’ career as a spectre had given his life purpose and direction but it had caused him so many more nightmares he hadn’t needed. “That friend was called Saren. He died tragically just before your grandpa left the old galaxy behind - something which left him heartbroken.”
Castis paused to let this information sink in. The child had tilted his head to the side, considering what he was being told with obvious curiosity; was it solely the pain of those memories which had kept Avitus from telling him this so far? “So… why didn’t he name me after his friend?”
For a moment, he thought back to the sharp bark that’d accompanied sharper features and sharper still teeth; not a brilliant namesake, even with as best an understanding of the tribute-to-a-tribute as he had. It certainly felt anachronistic for this soft, nervous and undersized creature to be named after the last great titan of war the hierarchy and had.
Maybe that was for the best though.
Unfortunately, Des’ question was a damned good one- one thats only answer was one he was definitely not qualified to give him. “You will have to ask grandpa- one day, when you’re older.” An awful lot older, to grasp the nuance he suspected Avitus needed someone to understand his motivations with. “But the point is, this friend, he had a brother- considerably older and who all but raised him, from what I understand of the situation.” Beside the heater and illuminated by the dull glow of the solar-powered lamps hanging from the porch’s overhang, Castis found himself wondering just why it had fallen to him to tell him any of this. “That brother was called Desolas. Aside from being the hero of the best friend your grandpa idolised, he was a highly impressive person- the youngest general in modern turian history, the leader who accepted the human surrender and basically a peerless embodiment of our kind’s ideals.” This wasn’t helping him feel better, was it? “But aside from that, he was Saren’s hero, just simply because he existed, as you will be your sister’s in good time. The early years of a child’s life are hard to endure, even as a parent, and I imagine they’re more frustrating and stressful still as a sibling but those times will pass.”
The bad times always passed, didn’t they? No matter what, they always ended eventually - just as the storm always broke.
Perhaps some of what he’d said would help long-term, perhaps it was simply comfort for the evening. Either way, in the ensuing quiet as Des contemplated his blanket with rapt attention, Castis sent a quick message to assuage the terror that was either already gripping the boy’s parents or which would do so when they discovered his bed empty.
Without siblings as he was, he didn’t truthfully know what he was going through- nor had Sol and Garrus had enough years between them to give him any idea how difficult it must be to be a half-grown-only-child-turned-elder-sibling, but someone did- One of Des’ very parents, in fact.
Maybe he should have suggested he speak to her instead of anything else, actually.
Ah well, too late now.
A hand tugged at his shirt. Castis looked down, met the yellow eyes that were considerably less fretful than when he had first found him out on the porch. “Can I stay here tonight?”
He made a show of checking the chrono on his omni-tool before answering, good pretext for ensuring that there wasn’t yet an answer to the message he’d just sent- no such luck. “Well… it’s to late to head out now.” That was definitely what he wanted to hear, given how he relaxed. “Besides, in this storm? Your grandpa would skin me alive for it- come on, it’s getting cold out here and that’s another thing he wouldn’t forgive me for…”
Nevermind the fact that, by the time he’d brewed up some tea, thrown the outside-damp blankets in the laundry and settled Des down in Avitus’ armchair, the rain had long since ceased, the storm died away and the first rays of the sun were pulling themselves over the horizon. A long way from anyone needing to rise, for sure, but unfortunately far too late for anyone over the age of fifty to get anything like a meaningful nights sleep in.
So be it. Somethings were worth being tired for.
And Castis would just have to take the good excuse at face value and join in with Avitus’ midday nap, wouldn’t he?