(2026-02-02) Distant Family

Details

Author:	inkie
Summary:	Back at the beginning of February, on the heels of Arric's conversation with Shine about Siamus's Dragon Problem, Arric drops in on the Admiral to catch up on news and family and for some casual talk about trauma and phobia. As one does.
Rating:	T for Teen

The beach scene is incongruous. The broad white ribbon of sunlit sand, the gleaming azure sea, the heavy tropical fug of the Krasarang Wilds giving way to a beckoning, salt-scented breeze — and a stone-walled battery of cannon built across the eastern end of the beach, empty black muzzles aimed westward down the sand.

Two ships are moored offshore, their white sails furled. A blue-and-gold tent in the shelter of the cannon battery shields a long worktable from the sun, and around that table stands a group of both men and pandaren in rough laborers' clothing, in close discussion with a couple of blue-and-gold Alliance officers. Animated conversations are being had — arm-waving and vigorous table-pointing are involved. Farther still to the east, some wooden cranes have been erected. Pandaren and humans mill like ants among them.

An initial survey of the crowd in the tent might not reveal which of the uniformed figures is in command. Follow the direction of the group's deference, though — or the whipcrack of a raised voice that briefly subdues the rest — and one finds the only-semi-uniformed figure of Admiral Fallon. Whether owing to heat or general irritability, he has shed his uniform sash and coat, and is down to only a white, sleeve-rolled shirt with his uniform trousers and boots. His neckcloth has been tugged loose and hangs around his neck more like a noose than anything resembling a gentleman's accessory.

He says something else to the group. A question is ventured, a couple of voices rise, and several people all bend toward the table at once. The Admiral steps away from the whole affair, out from under the tent's shade and into the sunlight. He moves a few paces up the sand and then stops to turn his face up to the sun, eyes closed.

Across the sand approaches a man of young-to-middling years, ginger hair streaked with gold from his time hatless under the sun, engineer's goggles pushed up to his hairline. His own sleeves are rolled up to the elbow, but he treads over the beach in very beach-unfriendly dark brown boots. It is, of course, the Admiral's friend and countryman, Arric Falrevere.

He hesitates when he sees the Admiral's posture and demeanor, stopping at the maximum distance for polite conversation and waiting patiently, an eager smile lingering on his sun-reddened face. Around his pale blue eyes is the unfortunate pearl-white shadow of where his goggles usually go, turning him into something of a reverse tanuki.

The Admiral is evidently accustomed to people hovering uncertainly in his general vicinity without speaking, because without opening his eyes, he says, "What." There is definitely a period there and not a question mark.

"Oh, er…" Arric hesitates, backing up a step. "I can… come back, if…" His face goes a shade redder, except unfortunately for the pale rings around his eyes.

Siamus opens his eyes; his dark gaze drops to Arric at once. "Falrevere," he says, and the contrast in tone with that What could not be more marked: Warmth and relief and a sort of surprised delight all color the name. "Falrevere! I wasn't expecting ye, man." Siamus steps toward him, hand extended.

Arric grins brightly and steps forward, taking the hand with his right and clasping the forearm with his left, giving both a brief but mighty squeeze.

"It's rather hard to mimic proper calling procedures in this wilderness," Arric says, "but I had some time and I couldn't wait any longer to hunt you down, now that we're finally in the same corner of the world."

He isn't carrying his rifle today, so "hunt you down" is less ominous than it might otherwise be, given his profession.

"Aye, no, never stand on ceremony." Siamus returns the arm-squeeze firmly before releasing Arric. "Here, come with me, we'll sit, will ye have a drink? No liquor on offer, I'm afraid, at this hour and in this heat — Mr. Platt's being a nanny about it. But there's cold tea and… what's the other? The lemon one. Lemonade."

"You have lemonade?" Arric looks genuinely delighted. "Ah, that sounds like absolute paradise. That'll be just the thing. Thank you ever so."

His eyes sweep the scene as he follows Siamus, taking in the cranes, the workers, the tents. He pulls a telescoping spyglass out of a small pouch strung on his belt, extends it, and takes a closer look at the ships briefly before pocketing it again.

"Has your lady sister been to harass you yet?" Arric asks amiably. "Or has that dreadful captain of hers been keeping her caged?"

"Her captain's been by. Not Ta herself yet, no. Fair certain it's not because Tyrrell's got her caged, though." Siamus smiles at Arric and then turns to bark, "Towson!"

A slightly-built young man wearing steel-rimmed spectacles, his mouse-brown hair tied back in a sailor's queue, ducks out from beneath the tent and jogs over. "Captain, sar?"

"Lemonade for Falrevere, will ye?" Siamus looks to Arric again. "Something to eat?"

"Ah, no, that's fine, I'm a bit winded for that. Just the lemonade will do, thank you kindly." He flashes a smile at Towson before returning his gaze to Siamus. "I'm surprised she didn't come with him, if the unit wasn't at work. I'd think she'd be missing you terribly!"

"Ah, well, Tyrrell had a separate business wi' me. And if she doesn't come, I'll go and chase Ta down myself as soon as I can — well." Siamus tosses a gesture of general exasperation toward the command tent. "But I expect she likes having a military operation of her own to keep busy with, so she can keep me dangling on her schedule for a change instead of the other way round." He watches Towson jog away along the beach. "The only trouble wi' that game is if neither of us is ever free now. But I'll go and collect her if I haven't seen her soon. Ye haven't gone yourself?"

"Oh Tides no, the captain terrifies me. It's not my place, and he knows it, and I'm sure he'd let me know it." Arric laughs. "But if you know where I might send a message, I'd be delighted. Or I suppose they'd forward it from home? I'm still sorting out how the mail works on the mainland."

"They're still in Paw'don for now, so ye can likely write to her there care of her unit. But I expect if ye write to her at home, aye, they'll put it in her hands one way or the other. Here, let's sit." Siamus has gradually meandered them toward a heap of boulders near a margin of the beach, and he gestures courteously to these as though offering Arric an armchair in the parlor. "Cobalt keeping ye busy?"

"Ah, yes, it's such an adventure, such an honor, to be on one of their forward squads. The leader is a ten-thousand-year-old kaldorei apparently, just absolutely beautiful and fierce woman, and then of course there's Shine, and my dear little friend Gwen, the magical genius. And Lord Colson Aspenwood, a phenomenal healer, and such a wise soul — one of those paladins, you know. I couldn't ask for a better team; fortune truly shines upon me.

"Speaking of fortune," Arric continues with hardly a breath drawn in between, "did you know that Miss Ionala Webster of the Cobalt Eye, who worked with you before on some matter or other apparently, is also the heir to a noble line of Stromgarde they'd thought lost? House Kerwyn?"

"Ye don't say?" Siamus looks astonished in the manner of a man who isn't sure how astonished and/or pleased he is supposed to look because he's not entirely certain who or what they're talking about but he suspects he should know. "Miss Webster? The girl with… the hair?"

(Odds are good that she has hair of some kind.)

"Yes, isn't it lovely?" Arric says, clearly confident that Siamus is as much an admirer of this unknown girl's hair as he is. "I'd always had a bit of a soft spot for her, had considered courting her despite thinking she was only a librarian, and now it turns out she's the head of a noble House and seems amenable to courting me anyhow. Will wonders never cease!" He laughs somehow both delightedly and nervously.

"Well that's a stroke of luck for ye," says Siamus. "Not that she'd be amenable, that is — naturally she would — but the other bit. Not a librarian."

Towson returns along the beach bearing a glass of iced lemonade; the outside of the glass is already slick with condensation in the heat. He offers it out to Arric.

Siamus settles on one of the rocks and props a foot up on another. "I know Aspenwood, as it happens. Well, his lady mother serves on the House with me, and I've known the older brother — Bertrand, that is — for years, but I know Colson himself and his husband. Sold them their house. Pair of likeable fellows. Husband very shy. Charming. Don't believe I know your friend Gwen. The kaldorei are fascinating, though, aye? Haven't worked wi' many myself. D'ye have a sincere intention, then, toward Miss Webster?" The genially disjointed, stream-of-consciousness jumps in this monologue lend a slightly manic air.

"Why, as sincere as it comes. I've not made a formal proposal, as we are still getting to know one another, but after I stole a kiss from her in full sight of everyone on the Lady Blanche at Bladefist Bay" — here he gestures to the moored Lady — "I determined that barring any obvious distaste from her, I am honor-bound to do so, even though she has forgiven me my disrespect, understanding that I foresaw imminent death at that moment. And we have discussed such things as the surnaming of hypothetical children with no obvious sign of dismay on her part, so I am optimistic."

No obvious sign of dismay! What every man dreams of! Speaking of dismay, a hint thereof is visible on Arric's face as he regards the Admiral.

"You are kind to inquire," he says. "It is pleasant to speak of personal things, to remind oneself that one is a person. How fare your own lady wife and most exceptional children?"

Siamus lights up. "Very well, thank ye kindly. Very well. I'm hoping for glad news on that front, as it happens, in the next days. But Ery is speaking fluently" — that fluently might have been filled in by Siamus's imagination — "and the boys are both walking. Ery sent me a paper ship." A child genius!

His smile turns a little wistful. "I do miss the little starfish. And the twins were only wiggling about on their bellies when I saw them last. They go so fast at this age, aye? A few months gone and ye miss all manner of thing." He focuses again on Arric. "But — that's glad news of Miss Webster. A fine and sensible lady. I wish ye smooth sailing."

"Thank you, my friend. And I'm sure you'll have a chance to see your little ones soon. I haven't much experience with infants and very small children, being the youngest of my family, but I do enjoy the ones old enough to talk. I shall have to visit your most eloquent Ery sometime — children have a wonderful way of turning the way one looks at the world on its head."

He tips his head slightly and studies Siamus, smile still lingering for a moment. But then he seems to remember something, and he sobers.

"I missed those years with my sister's children, as I believe I did not get off on a good foot with her husband. I was looking into a matter that the Parrishes… did not wish looked into. Either Lord Rhodri learned of it or he dislikes me for some other reason, and either way my sister had enough to worry about without my visiting and making the situation worse. I've had to make do with letters to learn anything about little Amos and Ainsley."

It takes Siamus a moment to make the connection. "My cousin Rhodri? Parrish? Dislikes ye?" He frowns. "Can't imagine why. Rhodri's always been an amiable fellow." (Says the man who finds Zath Tyrrell charming.) He studies Arric now with sharp, alert attention. "What d'ye mean 'making the situation worse'? There's a situation?" He shifts a little on his rock to face Arric more directly.

"I'm afraid so," Arric says. "My sister discovered quite early on in their marriage — when she was with child for the first time — that the Parrishes had disowned a little girl before she was even of age, for not being a Tidesage." There is a slight pause, during which it's clear that Arric is struggling to master some genuine rage, and then he continues with gentlemanly detachment. "As we've nothing of the sort in our own bloodline, it's likely that at least one of her children will lack that talent, and she is of course beside herself worrying about their futures."

Siamus stares at Arric. He's gone pale beneath his tan, and his eyes are very dark. "What? Which little girl? One of the twins? That can't be. There was talk when we were younger that I'd marry one of 'em. And I was under the impression myself — I wasn't at the wedding, mind, because it was… after — but I was under the impression Rhodri's marriage was… a love match." His voice drops on the last phrase as though he has uttered something indecent.

"I suspect my sister may have… sentiments toward her husband," Arric says, in the same delicate half-volume inflection, "but I have never seen evidence that they were returned." He hesitates. "I… should probably not go too deeply into the names and dates of what occurred with the Parrishes, as it borders on gossip, but suffice it to say that Arrish and I went a bit mad with research and we know for certain that my niece and nephew's grandparents, at the very least, think nothing of discarding a child who lacks that talent. So you can see why I might worry for my sister. Those children are her only joy."

Siamus gazes through Arric in silence for a few minutes. At length he says, "Well, ye know of Ta's situation, of course. I wouldn't like it thought that I countenance the like. But what I'd last heard…." He knits his brow. "Ye know the Fallons disapproved when my parents married, because my mother's family didn't have the blood. And there was at least for a time a plan I'd marry one of the little Parrish twins, because they did. But that got set aside when I met Betsy — Alsbeth — Grier, because the Westrys were strong in favor of the match for political reasons, and I wasn't over-interested in bowing to the Fallon wishes, on Sintha's account. And I was very keen to marry Betsy.

"But I was under the impression that following our example — my father and myself — Rhodri'd got the same idea in his head. One of the twins — can't remember which — wrote to me before the wedding that Rhodri'd insisted. He didn't care the lady wasn't a sage, had a roaring fight with my uncle Kian over it before it all got settled." He pauses. "Rhodri is stone-stubborn. But that's the family for ye."

Arric strokes his beard, his pale eyes thoughtful. He is silent for a moment, gazing out to sea as though he can somehow see Kul Tiras from here. "I suppose it had never occurred to me to ask myself whether Lord Rhodri had wanted to marry my sister, and if so, why. I know Arrish had no choice in the matter; my family was in rather unfortunate financial circumstances, and there were few houses of great wealth with available matches. But he must have wanted something in particular from her. I suppose she's pretty, if you like the type - a big sturdy girl, brown hair and eyes - but not exceptional. She had no dowry to speak of, and she isn't exceptionally talented at anything that I know of. But she was young and sturdy and for some men that is enough, especially if they have… difficult personalities." Arric clears his throat delicately.

Siamus snorts. "'Men with difficult personalities' describes the whole of the Parrish-Fallon line. And I suppose ye'd say that Fianna Parrish — my grandmother — was a 'sturdy' woman, and she was the jewel of her house. Family reveres her. A great lady." There's another silence and his gaze drifts past Arric. "If ye have a concern that Rhodri might… mistreat your sister — in a physical way, I mean — I can tell ye that wouldn't stand. With anyone, not even Uncle Kian. And I can't believe it of Rhodri personally. He could be reserved but he was never a bastard, and he doted on his sisters." He is silent again for a contemplative moment, and then his brow creases. "Did ye say your sister's name is… Arrish?"

Arric briefly makes a Neutral Emoji Face at Siamus. "Yes," Arric says flatly. "Lady Arrish Falrevere Parrish. As though her insistence on inserting three intervening syllables removes the indignity." He clears his throat. "Anyhow, she would have told me immediately if she'd been abused in such a manner. She might, in fact, have blackened his eye in return for the favor; as I said, she is sturdy. Physically. But she has a poet's soul, and to care for a man who cares only for the sea, well, that must be its own sort of torment. One she is less equipped to endure than any attempt at physical attack."

Siamus silently mouths the words Arrish Parrish, his expression one more of awe than anything else. He does not repeat them aloud.

"I'm very sorry for your lady sister," he says to Arric. "I don't know that I can say I'm acquainted with many ladies with 'poet's souls,' and I'm sure Rhodri would regret to think his wife unhappy. I'd inquire of the man directly, but…." He shrugs wearily, staring out at the water.

"Indeed," Arric says, staring off in the same direction. "I suppose this is all an exercise in hypotheticals, for now. I can only pray to anyone who will listen that my sister and her children are safe. I'm sure you understand, having a sister of your own. She must worry you terribly."

Siamus' laugh is a single, tired syllable. "Only every minute since we were children and she went to Tiragarde. She must have told ye how we fell out when she joined the 7th, aye? If she weren't serving with Tyrrell now I don't know I could abide it." He glances at Arric. "Ye mustn't tell her I said it. It isn't I don't think she's capable, of course — Ta's always been the most capable of ladies. But she shouldn't have to be, aye? I've been in enough battles in my life that the thought of her on a battlefield…."

Arric's eyes are full of sympathy. "Oh, I can't even imagine," he says. "What an absolute torment. If it were my sister, my blood would run with ice water — absolute constant terror. But you my dear Admiral, you face that fear, you endure, because you know you must. She gave you no choice. That's what true courage is, my mother always told me. Not the absence of fear, but the willingness to endure it and do what you must."

Siamus nods absently, his gaze on the water again. "Aye, just so. A wise lady."

Siamus has definitely heard people say that, anyway. Not his father, for sure. But people.

"I compare myself to you, you know," Arric says quietly. "To me you seem precisely what a man is meant to be, or at least, what my father would have liked me to be. But I… well, I am not you." He smiles crookedly. "I am full of fears, beyond fear for the lives of those I care about. I am afraid of … silly things, always have been. I've mastered my fears of most things in nature — lightning, heights, and so on — but every time I think I've come closer to being a true man, some new fear emerges and makes itself known. Kraken, most recently — after Bladefist Bay. Sometimes just the smell of dead sea creatures makes sweat break out on my brow since that battle. It would be easier if I were never afraid, but… I tell myself that my mother was right, that facing my fears and working through them is the same as having courage. I reassure myself that I am worthy of manhood, of friendship with even the most firm-hearted of men. Which… sounds ridiculous, when I say it out loud. Tides, what you must think of me that you are too polite to say!" Arric laughs.

Siamus stares at Arric, bemused. "What I must think…? Falrevere, ye never worry on that account, do ye? Don't. I think very well of ye, aye? The people I don't think well of will tell ye I'm by no means too polite to say." His smile is a sardonic twist. "And I can promise ye further ye might be me in every regard and it doesn't mean your father would yet be pleased. My own rarely was." He shrugs wearily: fathers.

"Well, you and I shall be better with our own children, hm?" says Arric. Oh no, is he implying Siamus's father wasn't perfect? Run, Arric, hide!! "Correct them when they need it, but also be pleased by them, and let them see it. That's what I aim to do, at any rate. My mother was like that. She saw me for who I was, both good and bad, and I always knew that she loved the good."

Siamus doesn't reply for a time. He turns his face to gaze outward again. "It's only lately," he says at last, "since my daughter was born, that I wonder if my mother was the same. She was — is — a weak woman. But she may be a good one." He shrugs. "I know I would never treat a child of mine the way the Admiral allowed Ta to be treated."

Arric's jaw clenches briefly — it's clear he shares this very specific resentment.

"I'm glad to hear it," he says softly after a moment. "I think maybe our mothers were rather alike as well," Arric says. "One might call my mother weak — she had no say in anything, and would never have dared praise me in front of my father. But when it was just the two of us — as it often was since neither of us were seen as having much importance — she would tell me her pride in my little adventures, how courageous I'd been, how I'd protected my friends. She even taught me to be proud of things other boys might mock me for, like my fastidiousness about clothing or my attractive handwriting. She helped me see good in myself, when most others didn't bother to see much of anything at all. And I believe that is why instead of giving up when I found myself stranded here - ha, Stranded! That is my elder brother's name — I had the confidence to seek a path that led me to happiness."

Siamus is briefly distracted again. "Your brother's name is Stranded?"

Arric bursts out laughing. "Ah, no, sorry. It's Strand. You know, like, a bit of seashore. And Arrish is a barren, shorn field. Arrish came by her 'poet's soul' honestly it seems."

Siamus nods, his smile crooked. Thank the tides; he was starting to wonder who named these people. "Well, ye've done very well for yourself on the mainland, and it was an honorable choice that brought ye. Your mother has a right to be proud."

Arric stands a little straighter. "That means a great deal to me, Fallon. I hold you in the highest esteem, and so your praise is no idle thing, nor the trust you place in me. Speaking of which — I trust Avior is well, the foal you were kind enough to let me name?"

Siamus brightens. "Ah, thriving, he's thriving. Handsome fellow. Ye must come and see him. — When we're back in the Kingdoms, that is."

"Could be a long while," Arric says wistfully. "He'll be a swaybacked old gent by then." Then Arric smiles, his sunny expression indicating that he doesn't really believe such a thing at all. "In the meantime, is there anything I can do to help the days pass more pleasantly for you between squad missions? I am at your disposal completely, as the only people to whom I owe significant social time are all across one ocean or other."

"Ye must come to dinner whenever ye've the time," Siamus tells him. "Ye can tell me about your squad work, we can talk… horses, engineering, home, whatever ye please. Shine can't dine aboard wi' me and he's inclined to be either cryptic or sarcastic about his work."

"Why can't he dine with you?" Arric asks, his brows pulling together in concern.

"The ship," Siamus says, and raises an eyebrow. "He has… an ill reaction, since losing his eye at Theramore. It's why he stepped down from the marines and the fleet."

"Oh is that so?" Arric inquires with obviously benign curiosity and concern. "Seasickness, from a disruption of his sense of balance, perhaps? Apparently it's all to do with balance and the brain." He knows a lot about this for no particular reason.

Siamus frowns. Seasickness? In a Kul Tiran ex-marine? Unpossible. He shakes his head. "I couldn't say whether it's physical or… a matter of psychology. I've known a number of old sailors who left the sea after the Second War and what they saw in it. I suspect Shine's case is one of the like." He glances toward the Lady Blanche. "Though he's been working on it, I believe. He's found he can abide airships. And he takes his wife out sailing, on little vessels. Taught her how."

"Ah, yes," says Arric, looking mightily pleased. "If it's a response to trauma, he's taking exactly the right path. He'll be able to go back on the sea one day, in time, I'm certain. Being a fellow of… sensitive faculties, I am more prone to having a trauma response to things others might shrug off — so I am well familiar with the process of undoing that sort of damage. It is not quick nor easy, but it's worth the effort, to be free of such binds. I am already starting with the kraken business, in fact. Trying to tolerate dead fish smells and such for longer periods, long as I can bear it. Encouraging myself to approach a bit closer to long snaky thrashing things rather than avoiding them. Making a bit of progress."

"Aye, well done. It's a sacrilege, what the orcs did to them, ye know. The kraken. They're abyssal ancients, some of the first children of the Tidemother, and it's rare ye come across even one in a lifetime." Siamus shakes his head unhappily. "I'm sorry to hear it affected ye so."

Arric waves it away with a smile. "I'm used to being 'affected' by a great many things," he says. "I was honored to be part of that battle, even if it rattled me for a time afterward. Perhaps I've got a bit of my mother's 'poet's soul' as well, in my own way? Feeling things a bit too deeply? But I try not to let that stop me. I'd have missed out on a great deal, including the opportunity to work on a Cobalt squad — which by the by has been every bit as gloriously adventurous as I dreamed it would be. Honestly, sometimes I feel like a playful little boy again, the way I felt when running about with Lady Sintha and getting into trouble. Only they pay me well for it now!" He laughs.

"As well they ought," Siamus says. "Ye have all the skill they could want, and ye survived dogging along wi' Ta as a child so ye must have a deal of risk tolerance and be durable besides." His tone is dry. "I expect ye're a better bargain than they deserve, and I'm glad they had sense to get ye onto a squad at last."

Arric's posture straightens, and he smiles warmly at Siamus. He studies the other man for a moment, eyes bright with gratitude and a touch of curiosity. Then he laughs again.

"Well, now you've done it," he says. "You'll never be rid of me. I'll incessantly hunt you fresh meat and bring it for dinner. All manner of tasty things besides fish here. I assume you have a skilled cook?"

Siamus raises his eyebrows. "Oh, aye, Towson." He looks around vaguely for the erstwhile lemonade-bearer. "Finest I've known in going on thirty year now." (This just means that Siamus, who does not pay attention to food, really likes Towson. But Towson is also a pretty solid cook.) "Does that mean ye'll join me for dinner, as well?"

"Of course!" Arric says without hesitation. "I'd love to have a break from the food at camp. They do well enough, but it's for fuel, not enjoyment. And I'll tell you everything Shine doesn't about our adventures. Swift as Win-Win is, I should be able to find time to get down here regularly."

Siamus's gaze lights. "Win-Win! How does Pandaria agree wi' the lad?"

"He adored the open space around Westwind Rest; I'd take him on such gallops!" Arric says fondly. "He seems to have taken personal offense to the presence of a paladin charger on the team, though. He is plotting something against that heroic beast Tenacious, I can tell. Luckily, I am an expert at foiling his evil schemes."

"Ah, he's a fine, spirited lad," says Siamus indulgently, in the tone of one who is certain that the paladin charger started it.

Arric beams. So proud of his horse-son. He looks around, taking in the whole scene for a moment.

"You know, perhaps I should say hello to some of your lads while I'm here," he suggests. "Dreary work, lately — perhaps I could cheer them with talk of animals and other nonsense."

"That's brilliant, good of ye to offer," Siamus says, and takes Arric by the shoulder. "Here, d'ye know Lieutenant Baird? Baird!" he calls to that gentleman, and begins steering Arric across the sand.