Porthos du Vallon (humanhurricane) wrote in saveatlantisic, @ 2018-12-14 21:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, #npc, *kristy, *melissa, porthos du vallon |
Innately suspicious. Her whole life, Adelaide had been taught to be wary of unusual situations, as they were often warning signs. The chaos of the moment was overwhelming enough, but the sheer appearance of the world around her had changed dramatically. Adelaide was quiet, but keenly observant in those first few moments, getting enough information to understand the logistics of what was occurring. It was good that she had done so; that information kept her from bolting outright. With the explanation untangling itself in her mind, she was left with the instruction to ‘wait’ for her father to arrive.
She waited approximately five minutes before slipping away from her bench and through the doors, largely unnoticed as she darted through the still familiar (albeit drastically different-looking) streets towards the places she could attempt to visit first in her search. It was chance that the training facility was early on her list. Adelaide was stealthy as she made her way inside, and looking around with fascination at a place she’d heard a lot about but never visited before. Her eyes were quickly drawn to one of the few figures who wasn’t off dealing with a new arrival, and she smiled to herself, watching him curiously. Relief filled her at the sight. She made her way closer to him, taking a seat on a bench nearby and watching, not interrupting as she observed the much younger version of her father as he trained. It was pure luck that Porthos hadn’t been with Aramis when the message came. He’d left the house early to stop by the bakery, brought muffins to three different houses for Aramis, Anne, Louis, and Tristan, and then he’d dropped back around by the training facility to work off the two muffins he’d eaten for himself. He’d spent the last week as a pony, so he’d bloody well earned, but still. The holidays were chock full of decadent desserts, especially with how much he was baking on his own, so he was trying not to lose his edge. So far, so good. He felt the attention on the back of his neck quickly enough and glanced over, spotting a new face. Now he was sweaty and his hands were wrapped, but he had manners, no matter what anybody might claim. He stopped the punching bag from swinging back at him and waved a hand at the girl watching him. “New around here?” he smiled crookedly. “Most people don’t start in here, but more probably should!” Adelaide fiddled idly with a string around her wrist as she watched him. She’d kept her eyes locked on him pretty consistently as soon as he’d come into view, taking in the sight of him. She loved her father more than anything, and it filled her heart with extra joy to see him now. Amusement, too. He really didn’t look that much different, just a little less weathered and lot less grayed. COS’s impact wasn’t as visible. “I am. I’ve only just arrived,” she said. “There’s been a rather large influx, apparently. All of us were wished here by someone, if the explanations are to be believed.” Adelaide was usually rather quiet and soft-spoken, but she spoke up a bit now. “I’m sorry for disturbing your training.” It was odd, the way the girl was looking at him like she knew him. Weirder was probably the way it didn’t feel all that weird at all. Atlantis had that way about it, though, and lots of new faces were around. Porthos stepped away from the punching bag to cross over to her. He was frowning, but it was just his default expression when he was a little confused. “It’s not a bother at all. I’m just here to make sure I don’t get too slow to fight.” Porthos patted his belly for emphasis and flashed an off-kilter smile. “Who belongs to you then? Maybe I know em.” Adelaide was trying not to be too overly familiar just yet, but it was hard. The man before her would raise her in the future, and she’d never really known a life without him. Familiar seemed like an understatement. “I suspect that isn’t something you need to worry much about,” she responded, laughing lightly. At his question, she tucked her hair behind her ear, almost sheepish. “Mm, you, actually. I’m sorry, this is a weird introduction,” she said, and stood, reaching her hand out for him to shake. “My name is Adelaide Vallon. I’m your daughter, from a version of the future.” Porthos would be ashamed of the pause that followed her announcement later, but to be fair, he was stunned stupid. Looking at her, she could easily be his, and it was hardly out of the realm of possible things Atlantis threw at people. Instinct, and a deep-seeded need to be a decent man, fully deserving of a family of his own one way or the other, made Porthos snap out of his haze and reach out to take her hand. There was still some hesitance. And an intrigued bit of shock slapped across his expressive face. “My daughter,” he deadpanned. A startled huff of a laugh broke free. “Did Aramis put you up to this?” The silence was met without pushing from Adelaide, who was very patient and could certainly understand his surprise. There was so much in this version of Atlantis that was different than she knew, and she could not imagine herself within it. She was sure that he would not be able to easily picture her existence either, not so quickly. She shook his hand gently when he put it into hers, returning it to her side afterwards. “Yes,” she said, nodding. “He didn’t, no. I don’t think Papa’d tease with something like this. I was going to try to find him next.” She looked at him thoughtfully, her smile a little apologetic. “You both found me when I was just a few days old, and took me back to the Resistance orphanage. You raised me, rather than just taking care of me, and I became yours.” It was a very brief explanation, but it was a starting point. “I don’t want to overwhelm you, though.” There was really no getting around overwhelmed, but Porthos felt a wave of something he couldn’t even really put a name to when she called Aramis Papa. Relief? Love? Family was always such a predictable soft spot for him that it was really no wonder he set aside suspicion in favor of curiosity. “Oh, I—he’s probably still in bed, it’s Saturday.” Porthos felt a little breathless, but he managed a warm smile as he unwound the tape from his hands. “Adelaide.” His smile grew wider. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Adelaide. Resistance, though, that doesn’t sound good at all.” Adelaide crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against a pillar to her side and watching him unravel the tape, a smile on her face at the little bit of sassing. “He may be, he does need his beauty rest” she said, nodding. Her smile was curious as he repeated her name, and it lingered when he continued. “Mm, well, we’re the good guys. I’m an agent, with others, and we have certain skills we use in the work against COS,” she explained. She paused then, looking at him thoughtfully before laughing a little. “I’m sorry, I’m staring. I’m not used to seeing you so young. You don’t look as different as I’d expected you to.” Porthos gave a big laugh at her cheeky commentary and then waved off her apology. “It’s good to know I don’t get too shriveled up and grey. Hopefully the same goes for Aramis or he might have a fit.” With the tape finally off his hands, he tossed the remains into a bin nearby and gave her a more somber look. “Still don’t get why you have a different name for what we’re already doing though.” He frowned. “Can’t mean anything good.” “You certainly don’t. You both wear your grey with the most distinguished of flair,” she assured him, smiling brightly at his big, familiar laugh. It was one of her favorite things about him, in truth. The somber look took her smile and let it simmer a bit, and she nodded. “We lost the war. COS took over,” she said. “The Resistance is working to upend their rules and regulations and bring back more opportunity and more -- to use an almost strange term -- creativity to the world.” She looked around again. “Nothing in Atlantis looks the way I’ve always known it. It’s strange to be back in a past where there is so much… life and color again.” “Well, fuck,” Porthos sighed, all the wind blown out of his sails in an instant. He supposed he’d brought this on himself, digging at it instead of talking more about Aramis and what it’d been like growing up with the pair of them, but he’d always been one who preferred to know the worst of it as fast as possible. “I’m sorry to hear that. Glad someone’s still fighting. Glad you’re still fighting, even though I wish you didn't have to...” Ideally, his children would never know war. But Porthos had never been an idealist. He bowed his head apologetically and shifted past her to grab his tablet. “Oh—there’s a message. Aramis must’ve been trying to tell me you were here. Glad you found me or I’d have felt like an arse.” Adelaide nodded a bit as he spoke, a little grim. It wasn’t the first time he’d apologized for the state of the world, and she was sure it wouldn’t be the last. “They were more powerful than we expected, that’s all. But we’ll get them eventually,” she said. She stepped aside to let him by, turning as he did so. At his words, she laughed a bit, content to let the mood shift back. “Thankfully, finding you is one of my better strengths,” she said, smiling. “This is probably better anyway. Would you have believed the message?” They were more powerful. Porthos swallowed dryly, feeling the light sweat he’d worked up go cold on his skin. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know more. How were they meant to keep fighting knowing they lose? Her he supposed. Louis. All the other children that had nothing to go back to in their home worlds. His worried stare lingered on Adelaide’s face for a moment before he huffed a forced little laugh. “No, probably not. Even if Breckentale made a lot of this easier to accept. Did we tell you about that? Actually, hold that thought.” Porthos had one eye on his tablet where he’d shot off a quick message to Aramis. “Do you mind if I bring you to Aramis so you don’t have to repeat yourself too much?” “From my understanding, there are a variety of timelines. Mine is just one of them,” she explained, sensing his unease and noticing that worried stare. “You did, yes,” she said, and fell quiet as he picked up his tablet. “Oh, of course. I’m excited to see him as well.” “Oh. Well that makes sense. I was thinking I needed to give Tristan grief for not mentioning this lost war business.” Porthos smirked and tucked away the tablet. It did help ease some of the anxiety. If there were different futures, then hers could probably be changed too, who even knew here? Old seventeenth century habits kicked in and he took Adelaide’s arm and tucked it through his own. “Alright, kid. Let’s go. I can’t wait to see Aramis’ face.” |