(2025-04-28) Learning It As We Go: A Farrens Family Reunion

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Author:	Athena
Summary:	At long last, the Farrens sons are reunited with their long lost father, Fray, proving that some things may be nurtured, but others are nature. 4300~ words. Part of the Red String Game Plot.
Rating:	T for Teen

Arc: The Red String Game

The sky is an early morning blue, marked by thin columns of chimney smoke rising from the buildings that make up the Wildhammer village of Thundermar. They exist as one with the hills, nestled cozily up against them, or in some cases even within them, as is common practice for dwarven architecture.

On the top of one such structure, seated in the greenery that spreads comfortably across its surface, sits Fray Farrens, his distant gaze turned towards the south. He wears his usual plate and leather armor, unmarked by the sign or insignia of any nation, his well-used broadsword sheathed and set beside him on the roof.

Costentyn Shine is crouched patiently at the roof's edge, Fray up the rise at his back. He is scanning the countryside around them, though his own attention flicks southward again inevitably every few seconds. He's dressed in his simple, travelworn dark leathers, no tabard or insignia, and despite his position perched near the edge of a roof in the morning sun, he is difficult to see: a smudge of shadow or a trick of the light. If an observer doesn't know he's there, isn't concentrating directly on him, their gaze will tend naturally to slide away.

Lathrik arrives at the well in the village square wearing his plate gear as usual, though minus the familiar Lion tabard and markings of Stormwind. He is still wearing enough blue that according to the man next to him, a certain intrepid reporter with a hat covering his eyes, he might even be a noble. (He's not.)

Lathrik is followed closely by what could be mistaken at first for an unusually tall woman, until a person looks down for where her feet are — they are not on the ground. They are a solid foot above the ground.

Natalyah, in human form, floats ominously behind the Farrens brothers, dressed in a priestess Scientist of the Light's robe of white, gold, and teal blue, a white blue halo glowing above her head. She is definitely not a combat veteran, judging from her lack of scanning of the landscape around her, and the way she doesn't seem ready or prepared for something like an orc ambush.

The Dinnsfield-Farrens-Kensington-Whits are accompanied by a man who is surely not an Alliance naval officer but some sort of handsome disreputable sailor type in salt-stained boots and leather greatcoat and a jauntily-tilted cavalier's hat. He wears a sabre and a pistol thrust into a faded blue sash, and ambles along taking in the dwarven village with bright-eyed interest.

At the roof's edge, Shine rises to his feet, as abruptly visible as if he'd materialized there. He drops lightly down from the roof to the square and moves toward the well to meet the group.

Lathrik, catching sight of the movement, if not the man at first, turns sharply, only to relax as he determines the apparent threat level, a lazy smile slipping into place. Peril jumps at Lathrik's sharpness, only to smooth his own demeanor seeing it's just Some Guy coming towards them. He might be extra jumpy these days.

A dwarven lass with blonde pigtails playing with some gryphon hatchlings nearby giggles at them, but her smile is playfully encouraging. She's not teasing them, she's rooting for them! Peril's cheeks redden a bit anyway.

Fray Farrens remains seated at the top of the building, assessing the group that approaches. He displays no obvious sign that he intends to move. Yet.

Natalyah doesn't put on any sort of mask at all. She's just there, glancing between Siamus and the man jumping down from the roof, and then scrutinizing the man still… on the roof.

Shine raises a hand casually as he approaches the arrivals. There is the slightest glint of steel close along his forearm; a half-concealed blade. "Fallon," he says.

"Shine," Siamus greets him. "That our man?"

"That's him," Shine confirms. "Let him get a look at ye, aye? Don't press him."

Natalyah arches a brow as she crosses her arms. "What's he doing up there?" She peers harder. There's something…familiar about that distant gaze. "Wait, I know that look." She glances from Lathrik to Fray. "He's brooding. I suppose this is a bit of 'do as the locals do' situation then, with all the gryphons around," she says archly.

"His… his head fibers," Peril whispers. "He's not even wearing a hat! This man is nothing short of the pinnacle of bravery!"

As Lathrik gazes at the man on the roof, he begins to struggle to maintain his smile, his expression instead starting to waver all over the place. For once he does not roll his eyes at Peril's dramatics, as so many emotions conflict across his expression that finally he has to turn away entirely to reapply the mask.

"So when's he comin' down?" Lathrik eventually asks, his voice like a soup of wet sand. He clears his throat. No more sand soup. "We're jus' to wait?"

Shine observes Lathrik mildly for a moment. "Hang on," he says, and turns back toward the roof. He steps lightly up onto a stone wall that abuts the building, and swings himself from there up onto the roof with Fray.

As he starts to cross to the other man, he spots the pigtailed dwarven lass and his stride catches between one step and the next, a one-beat pause.

And then he nods amiably to her and goes to Fray.

"That's them," he says, crouching by the other man. "And my friend Fallon, and your son's lady, Miss Kensington-Whit." He looks from Fray to the group and back.

Natalyah underscores the relationship by drifting over to Lathrik and hooking a hand into his armor to purposefully drag herself down to his height. With no embarrassment whatsoever for visible displays of affection, she nuzzles his cheek with a face he cannot see, but can feel, before pressing a quick kiss to him.

She heard that sand soup sound, Lathrik.

"The youngest's got a lady, has he?" Fray rumbles softly. "And the older one… Looks like how he describes himself in his paper. Your friend, there. He's the one who knew where — and who — I am?"

Lathrik closes his eyes as she gets close, but he wraps an arm around her, resting his hand on her shoulder to help keep her close to his height. Peril tries to look anywhere else, lowering his hat further over his eyes. Oh no, public kissing. Look, there's a dwarf lady! He waves to her, and gets a hearty wave back.

"Aye, that's right," Shine confirms. He's looking past Fray at the blonde dwarf, but now he focuses on the group waiting by the well again. "He found out where ye were for them, anyway. Didn't know it offhand."

He glances at Fray. "Ye want to come down? Ye want any of them up here? Ye want to shout a conversation across the square? Last one seems awkward but I'm not the man makes the call, so."

"Found out, hm?" Fray's eyes fix on Siamus intensely. "Impressive, given I haven't spoken the name Farrens aloud in over twenty years."

He pushes himself to his feet, strapping his broadsword onto his back, then Leaps off the roof, landing with a loud, earth splitting crash near the group standing at the well. Fray Farrens, drawn up to his full height, stands at 6'4'', towering over his sons, his face every bit the stern, battle-hardened soldier the pair might have expected.

Lathrik, definitely not expecting such a massive, not to mention noisy, display of athletic ability, turns wide-eyed on the taller man, while tellingly, Peril ducks, holding his hat to his head. The dwarf's eyes gleam with amusement as one of the gryphon hatchlings puffs up his feathers and chirps out a war-cry. A second one runs, darting into a nearby building to hide.

Siamus, smiling that faintly sardonic smile of his, black gaze gleaming, looks Fray up and down. Perhaps appreciatively. Really not the time, Siamus.

Shine drops much more discreetly from the roof once again and follows Fray over to the group at a regular human pace. He does not look startled by this behavior on Fray's part. It's possible, after a week of the man's company, that he is not. Who knows?

Natalyah, expecting such a display even less as someone not terribly accustomed to martial combat situations, erupts into her worgen form in a sudden burst of silken black fur, and she is now the one looking down at Fray Farrens from her full height of 6'8" plus half a foot of Levitate, mouth full of sharp teeth bared defensively, every bit a cursed worgen the warrior possibly might not have expected.

Shine raises an eyebrow and glances at Siamus, visibly startled. It takes a lot to visibly startle Shine, but Natalyah has found that threshold.

The dwarf lass has to turn away from the group to stifle her laughter. She is having a Great Day.

Fray, meanwhile, not up to date on his worgen news, immediately reaches for his sword, prompting Lathrik to do the same. Their blades clash, Lathrik's only option of defense on such a short timeline with his shield slung across his back unreadied and multiple others in the immediate area. Fray's blow is powerful enough to force Lathrik to his knees, but he, and his blade reinforced with Light, hold firm, keeping Fray's weapon from doing any harm.

"N-n-now let's just everyone calm down…" Peril tries.

A shield of Light encases Lathrik, as Natalyah is forced to take a levitating step back by her previously made deals, her fur quite literally bristling.

"Is that really any way to greet your son?" Natalyah says scathingly. "Unbelievable."

Siamus straightens up and steps forward, attempting to put himself between Fray and Natalyah. He holds his empty hands up. "Take a breath, man," he tells Fray. "Ye startled the lady."

Shine has a hand on a knife-hilt at his hip, but he doesn't draw it, just waits mildly to see whether a little dissuasive stabbing will be called for.

Fray stares between Lathrik and Natalyah for a silent, suspenseful moment, then withdraws his sword, allowing Lathrik to climb back to his feet. Neither man puts away their weapons.

"This is normal?" Fray asks, nodding towards Natalyah.

The pigtails dwarf finally decides to be helpful, ambling towards the group. "Ha' ye not heard of the curse of the worgen, lad?" she asks, in a lovely dwarven accent.

Fray looks to Siamus, the Guy Who Knows Things for an explanation.

"Aye," says Siamus, and lowers his hands. "Miss Kensington-Whit is laboring under a curse. Lovely young lady, though. Unwise to startle. Or to threaten her man." He nods genially at Lathrik.

Natalyah looks insulted, chest heaving with anger, clawed hands balled into fists, proving both points.

"Of course I'm normal," she says, debatably. Evidence of how lovely she can be still not yet demonstrated. "I have done all the proper rituals, and I'm fully sentient, and in control of myself."

This one takes more effort to prove, and there's a noticeable pause before there, a shimmer of iridescence beautiful in its brief moment, and she's back to human, now a crown of sweat on her brow.

"What, have you been living under a rock all these years or something," she shoots at Fray, glaring unsheathed metaphorical daggers at him.

"T-to be fair, the reintegration of worgen from the Gilneas incident is still fairly recent, and it hasn't quite been a year yet…" Peril stammers.

The dwarven lass gives Peril a sympathetic pat on the leg. Good try, buddy. "What ye need ta know is, ye'll be seein' a fair number of worgen from now on, an' the clothed ones are largely…" she pauses before saying 'friendly,' considering Natalyah. "Not yer enemies."

Fray takes another glance around at everyone, then finally grunts his acknowledgement and sheathes his sword.

Lathrik follows suit, shaking out his arms from the heavy impact. "Light's bleedin' Mercy…" he mumbles.

"I can speak for myself," Natalyah bristles. "As the only one here who is actually anything like an expert in sentient worgens." Even as she says it though, her hands move in uplifting waves, as a [Renew] lands on Lathrik. "Are you going to introduce yourself like a civilized person, or has the culture of rock dwelling reintegrating fathers fallen so low they simply leap out at people and draw their swords without a single word?"

Shine looks down at the dwarf. "Nice to see ye again," he says mildly, a sort of discreet aside from the main conversation.

Siamus steps aside and looks to Fray, brow arched. "I'm Siamus Fallon," he offers. See how easy that is, buddy? "These two gentlemen I expect ye know. And now ye've met Miss Kensington-Whit." He waits with an air of pleasant expectation.

"Always a pleasure Mr. Shine," says the dwarven lass, beaming.

As soon as Siamus is out of the way, Fray considers Natalyah, then holds out a hand. "Miss Kensington-Whit," he says. He does not say his own name. Maybe this isn't as easy as Siamus thinks.

Natalyah eyes his hand like he's presented her a boot smeared with unmentionable substances, but all it takes is one glance over at Lathrik and Peril for her expression to soften into a reluctant but dedicated truce. She shakes his hand, nothing in the gesture even vaguely reminiscent of another life led as a lady of society.

"Published lepidopterist, girlfriend of Lathrik, scientist of the Light, and as you know, cursed sentient worgen, and I'd say 'at your service,' but that remains to be seen." Natalyah's brow arches again as her voice takes a particular sort of tone that tells a story of her former nobility. "This is the part where you tell us who you are, and whether or not you're going to help save your son's life."

"Thought that was established," Fray says, glancing back at Shine.

"Aye," says Shine equably, and folds his arms. "And the man said he'd help. I told Fallon as much."

Siamus nods. "That's so. Y'understand the lady's got a natural concern for her man, though, and might want to hear it from the horse's mouth." He shrugs affably. "And I believe there's some question as to how and what sort of help ye mean to offer."

"And for all I know, you could have changed your mind, seeing what sort of company he keeps," Natalyah says tartly, but not without a telltale curling of her shoulders, the bravado hiding a very real fear.

Siamus reaches a reassuring hand out as if to set it on Natalyah's shoulder but does not actually touch her. It is an air-reassurance. He learned it from his sister.

In response to this, Fray Farrens begins to… remove his armor. Right there. With no warning.

Peril watches the pauldrons drop one after the other into the dirt at his feet. Then the gauntlets. Bracers. Breastplate. Instinctively, the reporter pulls out his notebook and pen. He has Questions, dear reader. Does this man intend to strip all the way, without a word of caution?

Apparently. The shirt comes off. His torso is a bed of muscle and scars, evidence of many battles fought, but what stands out is what the man himself points out; a purple rune on his upper shoulder, similar to Lathrik's own.

"That familiar?" he asks.

Lathrik stares at him, clearly bewildered by how easily the man just stripped down. "Aye…" he says weakly.

It takes Siamus a moment to notice the rune. Hm? What rune? Oh.

Natalyah, in some reflex, puts both arms around Lathrik as if to forestall any similar stripping or demanding he strip, a hand (so bright with the Light that it might temporarily blind anyone looking directly at it) covering his own Shadow Cursed Rune protectively.

"How come you aren't being drained the way Lathrik is then?" She demands more than asks, skipping right past any niceties. "Do you know a way to stop it doing that?"

Fray considers Natalyah, then his gaze flicks to Lathrik. "When did she do it?"

"H-he was four," Peril chimes in. "She uh… we were attacked by orcs, and she… did some shadow thing and they died, and then…" He is trying really hard not to look at his tall, shirtless dad.

"That must've been hard," Fray says.

"It… it was. It was so hard," Peril says. "I didn't know what to… We were just…"

Fray places a firm hand on Peril's shoulder. "You took good care of your brother," he says.

"I…" Peril's voice breaks as long-held tears finally burst free. "I tried. I really tried."

As Peril dissolves into sobs, Fray turns back to Lathrik. "Ten years ago," he says. "I finally got close enough to her to touch. Planned to take her home with me. Twilight found 'er. She marked me, pushed me off a cliff, but ever since, I've known where she is."

Siamus raises his eyebrows. "She hasn't harmed ye by it? As she has your son? She did it only when the Twilight found her? D'ye think she meant to keep ye on her trail, then?" His tone is much less affable, his black gaze sharp and intent.

He is not making any effort to not look at Peril's tall, shirtless dad. It does not, however, appear to be recreational looking anymore.

Natalyah stretches out her arm to get a hand on each brother, and there is still a bright Light over Lathrik's heart.

Peril gets a not at all helpful Light bubble, but maybe it's just the thought that counts. There, there, Peril.

"So, that one was on purpose, knowing what it does, even if she didn't know for Lathrik before. Does it work both ways? Can she look through your eyes, and know where you are at will?" Natalyah asks, piling the questions on Fray with no mercy.

Fray shrugs. "Hard to say what she sees. I'm not her. But I know she recognized me. I saw her in there, lonely. Tormented. Whatever's going on now, it's not her. Not willingly."

Lathrik breathes a sigh that might be relief, some sort of pressure held for most of his life, a question finally answered.

Siamus nods once and surveys the two brothers.

"That man's with her," Shine observes to Siamus. "The one ye said. He said so." He nods toward Fray. "Doesn't seem like her choice."

Natalyah presses a quick kiss to Lathrik's cheek. She told him so, that there was always hope that it hadn't been on purpose or a punishment.

"That man is doing something to Lathrik through the one he has," Natalyah tells Fray. "Which means maybe the Shadow Man is also doing something to her."

If it's possible for Fray to draw himself up any higher, he does so now, his face twisting in rage. In a booming battle shout that makes clear how Lathrik arrived at the name Dinnsfield, he calls into the mountains, "FRAY FARRENS IS COMING FOR YOU, TWILIGHT SCUM! YOUR LIVES, YOUR CAUSE WILL END ON THE EDGE OF MY BLADE!"

He starts to move, to storm out of the village on a futile warpath, but suddenly, he trips, landing near face first into the dirt, a certain dwarven lass with blonde pigtails gazing down at him. She may or may not have been the cause of his tumble.

"Ye've gotta keep yer feet on tha ground, lad," she says chipperly.

"Yeah, that's your father all right," Natalyah says in an arch tone to the Farrens boys.

Shine laughs softly at his dwarven friend and crosses the few steps toward Fray. He offers the man a hand.

"A bit of patience here, man," Siamus says sharply. "We'll want the lay of the land and some planning before we move in, or it's a good way to lose son and mother both, and no one's come up here to see the matter end like that, aye? The Shadow Man's got a hold on the pair of them that we don't understand. We do know he's a dangerous enough bastard on his own, and up here he's got the Twilight at his back, presumably. I won't have foot-dragging, but I also won't send anyone into a thing like this blind and risk Dinnsfield or his mother."

"Dinnsfield?" Fray pushes himself up from the ground. He does not need help. The dwarven lass shrugs at Shine.

Lathrik reddens significantly. "Peril's paper is a bit… I joined the Stormwind Guard, so I…" He looks almost painfully embarrassed, in a way that no one present has ever seen.

"A name he adopted to protect his privacy and identity as a Guard from people who recognize the Farrens name as belonging to a popular journalist," Siamus says.

Natalyah looks pained in a different way at the sight of Lathrik's embarrassment, emitting a high pitched canine whine, and instead turns the spotlight onto the dwarf to free Lathrik. "And who are you?" It's again, less of a question and more a demand, but here we are.

"Friend," answers Shine on the dwarf's behalf. "We had a drink the other night."

And then he looks at the dwarf too, perhaps to see whether she offers a name herself.

"Freida Falconwatch," the dwarf says. Not that anyone really cares, probably.

Fray starts pulling his clothes and armor back on. It's okay Lathrik. Have your moment.

Peril looks like he is actually considering lending Lathrik his hat.

Natalyah is Lathrik's hat, Peril, as she wraps her arms around Lathrik again, floating ominously behind him, a warning of a storm's frown on her face.

"So I suppose we can skip the questions about whether or not you still care about your wife's well being, as you obviously do. And I think you also answered the question of whether or not you've devised any plan on how to get to her," Natalyah says with that lemon sharp tartness. "But we have at least one known certainty now, which is knowing where she is, and that's more than we've ever had before."

Shine, meanwhile, nods at Freida.

"And we can and will devise a plan," Siamus says. This may not be an affirmation so much as it is a reminder. Or an order.

"That all you need from me, then?" Fray asks, glancing around at the group.

Peril clears his throat, then holds out his notebook uncertainly. "U-uh, autograph?" he asks.

Fray stares at the notebook for a moment, then takes it and scribbles his name down before handing it back. He does not ask.

"Are you coming back with us and actually getting to know your sons like a father, or are you going to sit out here and brood on a building in want of a good brooding couch until we come and get you with a plan?" Natalyah asks directly. There's a warning of something in her face, something defensively bristling on behalf of the brothers.

Shine glances at Natalyah and back to Fray. He's really hoping to get to spend time with his fiancée. He does not say this.

Lathrik, having recovered from the embarrassment of almost having had to spill his childhood hero stories to the man himself, somehow scrapes together the tattered remains of his lazy smile. "We're not planning on trappin' ye," he says. "It's jus' more convenient. Ye get to know everyone with us, no one surprises each other when it matters."

Peril is too enraptured by Fray's signature to add anything.

Fray looks like he very much wants to resist this invitation into an Alliance encampment full of other people he'll have to meet, but after an awkward pause, and a glance between Peril and Lathrik, he sighs. "I'm not for civilization," he warns. "I enter when I have to, and leave soon after. I might… embarrass you."

"Ach, good lad, good lad," Frieda says, patting Fray's leg supportively.

Fray glances down at her. Seriously, who is this lady?

"Welcome to join us, Frieda," Shine offers politely. "I'll buy ye another drink."

"Ye stay as long or as little as ye please," Siamus tells Fray. "No one's stopping ye and ye won't have trouble about it."

Natalyah looks like she is Trouble, capital T. But at the moment, she seems mollified enough to toss her hair, which uncannily floats around her head in the movement, before it settles again.

"Civilization is merely a social construct. Family is something else," Natalyah says, pointing a meaningful finger at Fray. "I spent four years as a feral, mindless m…" A catch in her word, just in time, as she looks at Lathrik, who cannot see her looking at him. "Creature. And I'm not the only worgen here helping Lathrik; there's others. You might find that you're not the only one who would rather be off in the woods."

"Aw, thanks laddie, but I'll only slow ye down," Freida tells Shine. "How's this, then. I'll be with ye en spirit." There is a playful gleam in her eyes.

"Learn it as we go," Fray says. "That's what I told Solari when we started this family. Didn't expect I'd be doing it without 'er over thirty years later."

Lathrik shrugs. "Makes ye feel any better, we don't know how to have a father any more'n you know how to have sons."

Fray breaks into a wide grin and laughs, a great, booming laugh, clapping Lathrik heavily on the shoulder. "Just like his mother, this one," he says. "Even got 'er looks."

Shine smiles his faint smile at Freida.

Siamus flashes a much warmer smile at Fray and Lathrik.

Natalyah doesn't hide the flinch when Fray claps Lathrik's shoulder, inches from her own arm wrapped around the paladin. No touchy the lepidopterist. But she doesn't turn into a worgen again. So, there's something at least.

Learn it as we go, indeed.