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Rin
Jun 3, 2015 15:44:57 GMT -5
Post by Philip Garwin on Jun 3, 2015 15:44:57 GMT -5
((Just couldn't get this out of my head. Rin is bloody adorable. Vicious, but adorable.))
Rin grows tall and lithe and wild as she matures from a child into a teenager. Between her dad and her grandparents and her uncles, she learns the art of poisons and the right way to handle a dagger and when to retreat from a fight. She isn't particularly good at that last one, she admits with a shake of her nearly waist-length dark hair, but she doesn't have to be good at retreating when she can win against any opponent she comes across. Nana Valérie just laughs whenever Rin declares this, laughs and calls her a sweet girl and bids her to come watch and learn another way to win over stubborn men without coming to physical blows with them. Rin's barely thirteen years old when those lessons start - and the reluctance in her dad's eyes means that he doesn't necessarily approve but that just makes it all the more interesting. She does learn a lot from her grandmother but those aren't the type of clashes she wants so she soon switches her attention back to fun things like blades and chemicals and long hours of wrestling and playing with her cousins.
She's taller than her aunt Avis by the time she's twelve, and pouts sulkily when she's sixteen and eventually realises that no matter how much she stretches up onto her tiptoes, she'll always be a few inches shorter than Cayden. Her godfather's son has been an important feature in her life for as long as Rin can remember, and she's quietly unapologetic about her crush on the older boy when she's safely tucked away at school with no danger of encountering him unexpectedly. There's nothing shameful about being attracted to him, she concludes once she eventually figures out what the strange new feelings towards her friend are. He's handsome and taller than she is and he doesn't try to tame her like she thinks other boys might if they got the chance. He's better than even she is when it comes to throwing knives and he tried to teach her how to drive last summer which is when this initially disquieting change occurred and she can't imagine anyone more deserving to pin her doubtlessly fleeting affections on.
The summer before her seventh year is an exercise in utter humiliation, starting from the moment she sees Cayden and feels a horrifying blush start to spread over her cheeks. Her dad's expression is one of fast dawning realisation mixed with amused resignation, particularly when she then proceeds to stumble over her words like an inept child and then gives up and disappears outside without another word. "I hate this," she mumbles irritably when her dad joins her on the slanted roof of their house a few hours later, kicking at the tiles with her heel sulkily. "It's making me act stupid around him and now this summer isn't going to be any fun because I'm acting like a stupid girl and I wanted him to help me practice with my knives so I can convince Aunt Avis to let me help teach the kids."
Her dad huffs out a laugh, knowing better than to put an arm around her. Rin doesn't appreciate being coddled when she's feeling sorry for herself; she expects him to snap her out of it so she can get back to normality as soon as possible, which isn't something he can do for her. Tristan would bend or break any rule in existence for his daughter, but he doesn't have the power to swat away a crush like it's an inquisitive bee. "It gets easier," he says instead, with all the wisdom of a man who has spent a lifetime falling for people. "Just think of this as another chance to learn something new. You can try out whatever Valérie taught you if you want, or you can sharpen your skills in evading him. Whichever you prefer, sweetheart."
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Rin
Jun 10, 2015 14:33:37 GMT -5
Post by Philip Garwin on Jun 10, 2015 14:33:37 GMT -5
Rin is eight years old when her uncle racks up a row of empty glass bottles in front of her and presses a pistol into her hand.
"Aim, breathe, fire," Stephen instructs patiently. "Take your time. Accuracy is more important than speed right now."
She takes a moment to judge the weight of it, feeling the cold metal warm to her grip. It's a bit heavy, a bit unwieldy even for an athletic child whose childhood has been spent preparing to join the family side business. It feels alright though, not as natural as her throwing knives but Dad spent hours creating them so she doesn't expect anything else to ever feel as comfortable as they do. Stephen said to take her time so Rin lines up her aim, exhales as she flips the safety off, then proceeds to destroy all six bottles without flinching.
Her uncle ruffles her hair as he passes by on his way to replace the bottles. "Excellently done, sweet girl. Quicker this time? Not everyone can be fought off hand to hand or with blades. Sometimes it's best to act from a distance, which is why we have poisons and guns."
Rin nods agreeably, already reloading the gun from a pouch of bullets clipped onto the belt of her shorts. Dad's always the best teacher but he won't be back until tomorrow morning so she has to stay with Uncle Stephen for tonight. If she can't stay with Dad or Wyron and Cayden then she guesses Uncle Stephen is the next best thing. Especially when he starts her shooting lessons six months early.
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Rin
Jun 11, 2015 12:17:11 GMT -5
Post by Philip Garwin on Jun 11, 2015 12:17:11 GMT -5
"It's for the best," Dad reminds her and Rin nods, stands straight and tall with her chin tipped high. She's a Cartier - the wildest Cartier, amongst the most vicious of all Cartiers. She fears nothing, and she is most ready to fulfil her duties to her Head. Perhaps this isn't how they imagined it happening but she's been preparing for this her entire life.
"It's only for a year," she agrees, ignoring the wind tugging at the long braid lying heavy down her back. They're the only two people left on the platform now, the Hogwarts Express having long departed and the other students and parents dispersed to their various homes. She isn't even allowed to go home one last time before she leaves, which is, as Dad says, probably for the best. She doesn't think she'd want to leave if she saw her family again, if she saw her younger cousins and her godfather and Cayden. "I'll be back before you even have time to miss me."
Tristan's wry smile quite clearly indicates how untrue her last statement was but neither of them acknowledge it. Verbalising that they miss each other already will do nothing to help matters in the slightest. "Stephen will be with you for the first six weeks to get you through your first assignment, and then Avis will contact you periodically with your next contract. You'll primarily be gathering information, but either Julien or your granddad will be there to guide you through your first assassination if Avis has to send one your way."
Rin bares her teeth in a pleasant mockery of a smile, one hand falling naturally to graze the strong garrotte wire twisted around the end of the braid brushing against her hip. Her long hair is a boast to those intelligent enough to take note, an arrogant proclamation that she's dangerous enough to cater to vanity without it becoming a weakness. Tristan and Jas wouldn't permit it if she truly wasn't every bit as good as her hair declares her to be. Her dad doesn't have to worry about her safety but they both know he will. "I'll see you for my birthday though," she checks, and is immediately reassured by her dad's familiar grin.
"I've never missed your birthday before and I'm not going to start now," Tristan promises. "Stay safe, sweetheart."
Rin raises a hand in farewell as she apparates, the fading sunlight glinting off the silver bracelet she's had for as long as she can remember. She can't take her family with her but she doesn't have to leave them behind completely.
***
"You messed up," Stephen snaps, expression tight and pinched with worry that's slow to fade. A vase shatters against the wall when he kicks out at a flimsy wooden table, barely restraining his anger. "You could have exposed yourself and ruined the entire job by being so reckless. I'm meant to be leaving in three days and you still haven't gotten the paperwork we need to acquire. How am I meant to go home and tell your dad that he doesn't need to worry, that you're ready for this?"
Rin rolls her eyes as she bends to extract a tightly rolled sheaf of paper from inside her knee-high boots. The resounding thump of the documents hitting the table catches Stephen's attention, bringing his hazel eyes to meet her green ones. Rin shrugs, reclining lazily in an armchair. "You do your jobs your way, I'll do them mine. I'm no good at small talk and being charming, Uncle Stephen. That's why I'm not here with Dad or Nana Valérie right now. I can never do what they do. But I can steal and I can threaten and fight and kill. That's what I can do, and that's what Aunt Avis needs me to do."
Stephen sighs, reluctantly impressed, and begins composing a mental report for his cousin. Rin's right; she doesn't have his easy way with people so she'll never be able to extract information through idle conversation as he does. She's quick though, quick and quiet and agile enough to break into places she shouldn't. They need to focus on that approach while they complete her training. "You're not getting a kill contract just yet," he says flatly, still not completely zen after seeing his niece seeming to nearly fail her assignment.
Rin shrugs, tipping her head back to catch a grape in her mouth. "Whatever," she mumbles irreverently.
***
Aunt Avis does send someone to help train Rin to be the best thief possible, which Rin immediately decides she'll never forgive Avis for. Oliver Grayson is infuriatingly arrogant and seems to revel in noticing and then correcting each tiny mistake she could possibly make. Unfortunately for Rin, he's also the disreputable son of a disreputable family friend and one of the best jewel thieves in Europe.
"So," Oliver drawls, successfully interrupting her stargazing and earning an irritated glare. "I've heard whispers that you're here on your own to get you away from a boy." He dodges her first attempt to kick him off the roof, holding up both hands calmingly even as he huffs out a laugh. "Easy now. Pull your claws back in, tiger. We've all been there, you know. I mean, granted, I'm usually gathering my jeans and running away from angry fathers or husbands, but we've all run from someone. Love isn't for people like us."
Rin twists her head, considering his profile through thoughtful green eyes, then extends her left leg to punt him off the roof with a snort. "Bullshit," she pronounces decisively, returning to naming off the stars as Oliver somehow flips himself around in midair to land with a flourish and a bow that goes unnoticed. "Love is for anyone, whether we want it or not."
***
Her first kill contract comes eight months into her trip, three days after her birthday, and is hand delivered by the Cartier Head herself. Her aunt sets aside both the contract and her present to wrap her arms around her niece. Rin is nearly a foot taller than her aunt but she dips her head obligingly at the tap on her arm. "You've been missed," Avis murmurs warmly, using their hug to disguise the message she's passing along. "I'm pretty sure your godfather knows where you are but no one else does and I keep reminding him that it's family business so he's not to let anyone else in on the secret."
They're closer to home than she has been in months, just a few hours away, but Rin eyes the contract and knows instantly that she'll be on the move again shortly. The thicker contracts always hold coordinates and a detailed floor plan of whichever building she's meant to infiltrate. This is the thickest she's ever personally handled, which stirs up both adrenaline and nerves until her gaze settles on her dad, easy confidence evident in every inch of his casual stance. He believes in her, so she won't let him down.
"Jas and Julien aren't available, so Oliver will be backing you up on this job too," Tristan informs her, his gaze carefully probing. The terse atmosphere between the two young adults has eased into a bickering camaraderie over the past six months but Oliver isn't an assassin by nature and he has his own interests to look out for. If Rin shows even the slightest sign that she's not okay with this, he'll do the job himself if he has to. "While you focus on your target, he'll be carrying out his own job, but he'll have your back."
The fierce, untrusting stare Tristan turns on the younger man expresses without any room for doubt that Oliver had better keep a close eye on Rin or he'll find out firsthand precisely what it means to make an enemy of the Cartiers. Oliver laughs, slinging an arm around Rin's shoulders with a grin, undeterred even when Rin just shrugs him off and continues examining the blueprints. "We've got this covered, no worries. I'll deliver the little tiger back in one piece."
The next four days pass in a whirl of preparation, with Rin picking through blades and poisons and needles. Avis sends over a dress and matching heels and accessories for the party - because apparently part of the contract is that the man has to die publicly, which makes Rin roll her eyes at the further elaboration necessary to pull this off without being seen - but the scrawled note of 'Enjoy yourself tonight' is definitely her dad's handwriting. Dad knows she never enjoys anything that forces her to dress up like a child's doll and chatter mindlessly with trophy wives in their cages.
"Pity it isn't a masquerade," Oliver quips as he escorts her into the ballroom. "Not that I want to hide that pretty face of yours, but it would make it a lot easier to disappear afterwards."
"What, you don't enjoy a challenge?" Rin laughs, a little bit scornful as she scans the room. Her heels are too high for any sort of quick movement but Avis had offered her the choice between high heels or heeled boots and a floor length skirt to disguise them. Considering that she isn't Cinderella, Rin had opted for the knee length skirt and reasoned that she can just kick off her shoes if a strategic retreat becomes necessary. Her laughter dies when her gaze skips over a familiar face then snaps back to confirm Cayden's presence. Her heart can't decide if she's happy or nervous or exhilarated to see him again after so long but she can't deal with a reunion here and now, not when she has a job to do. She has to concentrate on her target, not on outrunning her feelings until they can't catch up anymore and she can go home. "Let's go this way," she mutters as she changes direction, pulling Oliver along after her without paying attention to his complaints that her target is on the opposite side of the room.
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Rin
Jul 13, 2015 13:30:37 GMT -5
Post by Philip Garwin on Jul 13, 2015 13:30:37 GMT -5
Avis has been called a great many things since taking up the mantle of Cartier Head nearly twenty years earlier: selfish, manipulative, cruel, protective, arrogant, demanding, prideful, spoilt, amongst other such adjectives. She is all of these things, she admits freely, and wonders if there has ever been a trueborn Cartier who wasn't at least the majority of the harsh epithets dumped upon her. Certainly her cousins are every bit as careless and arrogant and self-entitled as she is; they work hard and live fast and Avis thinks sometimes that a very large part of being a Cartier is tasting danger on their tongue and laughing, loud and without abandon, because they teach their children to outrun death for as long as possible and then to turn around and meet it head on when running is no longer an option. They fear and love and hope as deeply as everyone else does but death is a weapon they wield and a rival they aim to surpass, not an enemy. There are far more terrifying foes than death, after all.
For Avis, that enemy is a lack of control. She despises not being able to anticipate the future and then mould it to her own liking, glancing ahead like a master predicting moves on a chessboard. She's good at it and getting better all the time. Manipulation comes as easily to her as breathing nowadays. Tristan's weakness is the softness of his heart; he's just as likely to lie down and die for the people he loves as he is to turn around and destroy the world for them, depending upon the situation. Rin, interestingly enough, has quite the opposite problem. Where her dad feels so deeply and openly, Rin struggles with emotions to the extent of having to be whisked away from them under the pretence of an intensive training exercise.
She can't say she's surprised, she supposes. As Head, it's her duty to know her family well enough to care for them under any circumstances that could come to pass. Avis has spent nearly twenty years watching Rin mature, has watched her grow from a gurgling baby to an adventurous child to an utterly unself-conscious young lady who has absolutely no idea of the artless charms she possesses and the heads she turns. Avis has watched her become dangerous and skilled and wild, like a somewhat feral cat who walks alone as she wishes and comes only to the company she finds tolerable. She has watched all of this happen over nearly two decades and always Rin's green eyes have landed on Cayden without fail, always her actions and choices have matched his like well-practiced steps in a much loved dance, always can he be relied upon to locate Rin when she's holed herself up in one of her numerous hiding places. No one is blind to the fact that Rin has opened her heart and her mind to Wyron's son, except perhaps Rin and Cayden themselves.
This state of affairs worries Avis equally as much as it pleases her, far more than it worries Tristan who merely narrows his eyes at Cayden with fatherly suspicion and restricts the amount of time the two young people can be alone together. While Tristan has every confidence that no man will ever be able to resist his daughter if she sets her eyes on him and learns the art of seduction, Avis holds her breath and tries desperately to find a plan of action that will save her family from a repeat of Wyron and Jas.
Rin isn't a fool but she has little experience with adult interference, having generally excelled at the challenges put before her, so she reads their attempts to help her as a gentle rebuff of her feelings. Tristan frets and shuts himself up in his workshop, churning out knives and other assorted weaponry almost faster than their family can find a use for it. Avis spends her days carrying in as normal and then works through the night to keep Rin at least three steps ahead of her wandering godfather and his son whenever they might get too close. The time isn't right yet, Avis judges, and adds Oliver's most recent report to her files.
Perhaps after Rin's birthday, she offers Wyron and Tristan noncommittally. Perhaps by then Rin will have stopped sitting on rooftops and counting stars, but Avis very much doubts it. Or perhaps Cayden will decide upon his heart whether it favours Rin or not. Still, the longest she can drag out this excuse of a training exercise is a year and then she won't have a choice but to recall Rin back to France. It's unusual for one so young to be gone for so long anyway, and absolutely unheard of for the sanctioned absence to extend beyond twelve months. The hourglass is running out of sand at an increasingly rapid pace and all Avis can do is keep nudging pieces to different squares and wait for someone to call stalemate.
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Rin
Jul 28, 2015 17:20:22 GMT -5
Post by Philip Garwin on Jul 28, 2015 17:20:22 GMT -5
Rin is nine years old when she tucks herself against his side, blinking with wide solemn green eyes, and asks what love is. Tristan draws in a slow breath as he considers the best answer, smoothing a fatherly hand over her wild dark hair. "Love is a lot of different things for different people," he says carefully, somewhat unwilling to tarnish the shreds of childish innocence still present in his daughter. "For us Cartiers, it's very much akin to handing someone the one weapon that can destroy you completely and having to merely hope that they won't."
He can see her turning that idea over in her head, a tiny frown creasing her brows. "I don't want to share my knives anymore," she declares eventually, her tone petulant and displeased. "Why would you give someone something that can hurt you? That's stupid."
Tristan smiles wryly, thoughts of Wyron and Jas and his own previous hurts immediately springing to mind. "Yes it is," he acknowledges, because he doesn't lie to his daughter unless he has no other choice. "But there's also something very exhilarating and freeing about giving someone that power over you and trusting them to not deliberately hurt you." She still doesn't look even remotely convinced but he just presses a fleeting kiss to her temple before ushering her away to go play with her younger cousins. "You'll understand one day," he murmurs after her retreating figure, "and I hope you're luckier than the rest of us, sweetheart, I truly do."
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Rin
Aug 21, 2015 10:31:10 GMT -5
Post by Philip Garwin on Aug 21, 2015 10:31:10 GMT -5
Despite all best intentions and well laid plans, Rin doesn't return for nineteen months. Her absence lasts almost seven months longer than planned, primarily due to unforeseen circumstances that have left her with thin web-like scars trailing down her right ribcage. Two weeks of strictly enforced bedrest, nearly three months of whirlwind Cartier-style physiotherapy, and splashes of colour in the form of a tattoo have erased nearly all signs of the damage but Rin remembers a vague haze of pain and heat and screaming that can make her flinch even now. Granddad has offered to help her work past it, with a grim look in his dark eyes that tells her she isn't alone in the nightmares that sometimes plague her, but Rin is independent and stubborn and she wants to beat this by herself. She won't let the past make her weak.
"Holding up alright, tiger?" Olli's sly whisper sounds in her ear seconds before his arms slide around her waist. She knows how it must look to the family members gathered to welcome her home but Oliver has been the only constant in her life for over a year now. He's taught her and teased her and he saved her life. He's seen the extent of her scars and still tugs on her long hair and tells her she's beautiful. She loves him but not in the way some assume she must. They've shared a lot and he means a great deal to her but Rin privately thinks that they would be ill-suited even if her heart wasn't still set on someone else. Olli needs someone more demanding than her, someone with a strong character who knows precisely what they want and has no qualms about making their expectations clear.
Rin sighs, relaxing against the familiar strength of her friend at her back for the first time since she entered the house. They've all changed in her absence and she isn't entirely sure she has a place here anymore. Perhaps she's been gone too long to reclaim her place in the family. Perhaps Aunt Avis has decided freedom suits her better than a steady position at her son's side. She hasn't even seen Cayden all night; Dad had shrugged helplessly when she asked him earlier, and her heart clenches at the idea that he hasn't even missed her enough to remember her homecoming.
"I need some fresh air," she murmurs under her breath, barely audible, and discreetly taps out the message on Olli's forearm in their code when his foot twitches against hers questioningly. He releases her immediately, well-versed in her need for space after having it smacked into his thick head a few times, but her exit strategy is interrupted by the man she hasn't spoken to at all in nearly two years. She has to wonder if he catalogues the changes in her as she does for him: if he notices the explosion of freckles scattered across her tanned face following her recuperation period in the Caribbean, the way her casual stance more closely resembles Jas now than it did before, the deep rooted shadows in her green eyes. She wonders what he sees in nineteen year old Rin and if it surpasses the memory of the seventeen year old that disappeared without even a goodbye.
"I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me," Rin says eventually, the joke falling a bit flat when paired with the sad half-curve of her mouth. "It's been a long time, Cayden."
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Rin
Oct 19, 2015 16:43:52 GMT -5
Post by Nieve Ramírez on Oct 19, 2015 16:43:52 GMT -5
Rin has grown and changed in more ways than expected. Gen catalogues each difference with the sharp eye of an older sibling - a far cry from the half-hearted, selfish attentions of her teenage self - and exchanges pointedly meaningful glances with Jas and Stephen both. As her closest companion throughout childhood and adolescence even despite attending different schools, Stephen hasn't lost his ability to read her expressions despite the demands of being adults with separate responsibilities tugging them apart. Jas simply knows as he always does, in a peculiar display of fatherly knowledge that Gen both envies and fears. She's never been able to slip anything past either of her godfathers, although they both have tended towards leniency and cheerful disregard for some of her lesser misdemeanours.
Gen gives her cousin a week of peace, to adapt to being back amongst her family, before she approaches the younger woman for a chat. It can sometimes be difficult to track Rin down - she very much enjoys her own company and she's talented at hiding in the same way that Cayden has perfected evading Gen's playful attempts to hunt him down for a cuddle session - but luck must be on her side since she locates the teenager within three hours. Gen hovers in the air for a brief moment, brightly coloured wings fluttering frantically to keep her in place, before changing back to her human form and landing with bent knees. Rin spares her a half-glance as she spins, left foot flashing up to hit against the punching bag with such a loud crack that Gen winces, but her attention remains with her practice routine even while the older woman rolls her eyes and settles her back against the wall as a mildly interested spectator.
"You're not sleeping with Oliver," she comments after a few minutes, her strident tone cracking through the silence with all the subtlety of a bulldozer. Rin has never responded well to tact, which is just as well since Gen has always failed rather spectacularly at using it. To her credit, Rin never stumbles nor pauses but rather continues on as if she hadn't heard, except for the clearly ridiculing arch of her eyebrows. Two years ago, any mention of sex or intimacy in relation to her own life would have had Rin squirming away uncomfortably, grasping desperately at any change of topic. It's a mystery to Gen and many others how a man like Tristan, who gives his heart and his body both so easily, ended up with a child who gets lost within the twisting labyrinth of her own feelings. Baby cousin certainly has changed then, in more ways than merely physical.
"He's charming," Gen continues with a bright laugh, because she has found enjoyment in playing Oliver at his own game of flirtation, "and he touches you like he has a right to, but whatever bond there is between you hasn't crossed that line. You're far too professional to form that sort of attachment with your partner. Stephen taught you too well for that." Rin isn't taking the bait, isn't scrambling to regain her quiet equilibrium as she once would have, so Gen clicks her tongue against her teeth in the same way her Cartier godfather does and presses on without showing the mercy of a retreat. "And he's not Cayden, of course. No matter how charming he is or how wily and cunning, no matter how many times he gets you out of trouble or watches your back, he'll never have the quality you're looking for. He'll never measure up to the boy you've judged people against since you were a kid. Oliver Grayson will never be Cayden Graas, and so he'll never be good enough."
Gen has been on the receiving end of the Cartier temper before, of course - she grew up alongside Stephen and Tristan, who are both widely acknowledged as volatile and overly dramatic respectively, and she's always been a little bit too good at pushing Avis' buttons - but Rin's eyes are flat and quietly assured, and Gen realises for perhaps the first time that the little girl she used to babysit is now a trained killer. Rin stops a few steps away, long dark hair moving with her in its high ponytail as she tilts her head, a hint of smug self-satisfaction lifting the corner of her mouth.
"I will not," Rin states solidly, her green eyes never leaving Gen's, "be so selfish as to force my feelings upon him. That would be the height of self-absorption, and he deserves far more consideration. With that in mind, neither of us will be sharing the details of this little chat with him - nor will you be telling Cayden or anyone else whatever it is that you think you know. Do we have an agreement?"
The minute dip of her head indicates Gen's concession, but she's grinning blithely when Rin falls in step with her, and the younger girl allows the arm around her shoulders with just a sigh. "You've always been the most troublesome, little cat," Gen murmurs fondly. "Tara was never this difficult when she was your age."
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Rin
Sept 22, 2019 11:41:34 GMT -5
Post by Philip Garwin on Sept 22, 2019 11:41:34 GMT -5
“Come on, sweetheart,” Tristan cajoles helplessly. “I don’t like this anymore than you do but it’s her weekend with you and I have to go away for a few days anyway. We have to go or we’re going to be late.”
“Not going,” the five year old responds petulantly, cheeks puffed out stubbornly and arms crossed even though her dad can’t see it. It had taken her a while to figure out the best hiding place but she had eventually managed to scramble up to the top of the wardrobe in her dad's room and scoot far back enough that she’s sitting with her back against the wall. She can’t see her dad but he doesn’t sound happy, which Rin is fine with. She’s not happy either. “I’m not going and you can’t make me.”
“Wrong,” Tristan responds dryly. His mother would call this karma, he thinks as he resorts to carefully floating his clever but infuriating little daughter down from his wardrobe. This is payback for all the trouble he caused during his youth. He can only hope that Stephen has an equally troublesome child, because Merlin knows his little brother was just as much of a nightmare.
Rin bursts into tears the moment she lands in his arms; gulping, overwrought sobs that absolutely terrify him as he tightens his arms around her and takes several swift steps backwards so they can sit on the bed. Rin doesn’t cry, not like this. There’s the odd sniffle when she’s tired but doesn't want to admit it or a trembling bottom lip when playtime with Wyron and Cayden is over, but not this inconsolable misery which soaks through his jumper and has his little girl struggling to catch her breath through her tears. Tristan rests his chin atop Rin's dark hair and lets her cry it out, murmuring gentle, soothing nonsense and rubbing her back calmingly. He’s supposed to be dropping Rin off at Bethan's house now - the custody agreement he had reluctantly agreed upon with his ex-wife means that she gets Rin for two weekends every other month - but there's no way he’s moving until he gets to the bottom of Rin's hysteria. It’s not quite the original agreement he had tried to enforce, in which Rin was his alone and she relinquished all parental rights, but Bethan had rallied to fight for her daughter and he didn’t exactly have grounds to deny her total access to her own daughter. For a while it had looked like he would have ended up being the one with limited access, considering that Bethan comes from a highly respectable family and doesn’t have two divorces painting her a flighty and unreliable, but his dad had stepped in. Apparently all it needed was a few words with a few officials who owed Jas a favour and Tristan was granted primary custody despite all the evidence that Bethan would have been the better option.
“You want to tell me what that was about?” Tristan asks once Rin's tears have slowed to an occasional hiccup. She tries to shake her head, a difficult endeavour given how closely she's nestled herself against him, but Tristan resettles her in his lap so she's facing him, weathering the baleful pout forming in her face in response. “No isn’t really an acceptable answer right now, baby girl. I can’t help if you don't tell me.”
“She doesn’t even like me!” Rin explodes after a few minutes of painful silence. “She calls me Corinne and she always wants to have tea parties and she says I’m not allowed to climb things and she keeps trying to make me wear dresses and...” Rin has to stop listing her mother's offences to finally taken a breath but she seems about ready to launch back into a list of grievances which have clearly been building for a while so Tristan raises a finger to tap her nose, earning himself an angry glare from teary green eyes. She’s only going to work herself back up again if she continues and she's already tired herself out with her earlier bout of crying; he can see her eyes threatening to slip shut already.
He can’t really break the custody agreement without an exceptionally good reason, but he also can’t bring himself to send Rin to her mother for the weekend. Bethan loves her daughter, no matter how much Rin clearly believes otherwise, but she doesn’t understand her. Perhaps part of that is Tristan's fault - it's hard to understand someone without spending any meaningful time with them - but Rin is five years old; she isn’t old enough to understand that Bethan is trying to connect with her in the only way she knows how.
“I think you have dragonpox,” Tristan announces dramatically, adjusting his hold on Rin before rising to his feet, “and do you know what the best cure for dragonpox is?” Utterly confused, Rin shakes her head slowly, her tearstained face brightening with a grin as Tristan continues. “Well, first of all, we need to find you a best friend to spend some time with - you can’t get better without a friend to keep you company after all!” Rin giggles sleepily, a soft sound which warms Tristan's heart as he settles her in her own bed and brushes a kiss against her forehead. He still can’t stay - Avis needs him for this job and it had been specifically scheduled for when Rin was supposed to be at Bethan's - but the lie will serve as reason enough to keep her away from Bethan until he has more time to sort this mess out since she had never caught the illness as a child. He can only hope that Wyron is available for some last minute babysitting. “Have a little nap,” he urges softly, leaning against the doorframe for a few moments longer until he’s sure Rin has given in to the exhaustion which always follows so much crying, before padding away quietly to track down someone he can trust to look after his daughter and fend off any distrustful curiosity from his ex-wife.
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