mason normandin ( werewolf ) . (biggestbaddest) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2012-04-15 15:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | #solo, 2009-09-05, mason |
some things just don't change.
Who: Mason and Robert (NPC).
Where: The Normandin house.
When: Early morning.
Breakfast in the Normandin house was always a sorry state of affairs, one that Mason would much rather skip out on completely. Too many times over the years he had forced himself to sit through one train wreck after another, and now that he was Alpha, the choice on whether or not to take his place at the table come morning was his own and no one else's. Thank God. It might be considered to be in bad form by his parents, his disgruntled father especially, but Mason could hardly put words to how little he cared about how they felt about his behaviour. It was bad enough some months that he had to spend the full moon with his laughably dysfunctional family, honestly it was a miracle he didn't bolt out of the family home the second the sun started to rise.
Most people were still in bed by the time he made his way downstairs. There were sounds of preparation drifting from the kitchen and the dining room, hired help getting things ready no doubt, but Mason had long since learned how to tune them out. They posed no threat, and as such, were easily and readily ignored. Instead he found the folded newspaper sitting on a small mahogany table in the house's grand entrance and skimmed the headlines. Mason was already dressed, there was no bag to ready for his departure from the Normandin home, and so as soon as he felt awake enough to get behind the wheel he would be on his way.
When the sounds of clinking cutlery and crockery faded from the dining room, he strode through the door. When he was younger he had pushed his way into rooms while they were being readied only to discover that the staff froze like rabbits in headlights whenever he did so; as a general rule, the employers and the employees did not share space in any way unless the former expressly asked it of the latter. Honestly Mason could have cared less about his parents' ridiculous rules on the matter, but it was habit by now and so he subconsciously waited until they were finished before stepping into the room to help himself to the fresh, hot coffee that was waiting in the pot on the polished sideboard. The cup seemed almost comically small in Mason's large hand -- his mother had picked them out, of that he had no doubt -- but it was the jolt of caffeine he cared about, not what it came in. At that point he would have gladly drunk from a plastic beaker, he needed the coffee that badly.
He had barely even set the paper down at the head of the table before he heard the door open. He didn't even need to raise his blue eyes to know who it was, and the sound of an older man clearing his throat, rough and dissatisfied, would have wiped away any doubts he might have had. Robert Normandin was as unwilling to share space with his son as he was with the hired help, Mason knew, and so he made a point of claiming his space and acting as if he belonged there. He did, of course, technically the house was his territory now, not his father's, but he would be damned if he gave the older wolf any wiggle room.
"Did you sleep well, father?" he asked, though it was not cordially that he did so, and his eyes did not lift from the printed text. Not yet.
Robert made a low noise in the base of his throat. "Not as well as I might like," he returned. "I rarely rest well during the full moon."
Mason smiled at that, making no effort to hide the expression. To the untrained ear it would sound as though Robert Normandin merely felt restless during the night of the full moon, but his eldest son knew better. What Robert Normandin meant by his statement was that he had trouble sleeping when his son, the wolf who had taken power from him, was in the house. His father did so hate it when they slept under the same roof. That knowledge played a big part in Mason's insistence on spending the entire night with his family. Oh, spending time with his siblings wasn't all bad, sometimes it was actually enjoyable, but the relationship with his parents was strained to say the least. For all Mason knew, his father would like nothing more than to see him dead.
"A shame," he responded casually, unfolding the paper and flipped it open, taking a sip of his coffee. "You shouldn't have to wait long for your breakfast."
"Don't you mean we? Our breakfast?"
Mason stifled a sigh, taking another sip of his coffee to mask the sneer that would have otherwise crossed his face. After years of practice, his father was an expert at showing his disapproval and disappointment. Robert had piled a good deal of pressure on his eldest son's shoulders over the years and that hadn't bothered Mason much when he was younger, he had a reputation to uphold for the sake of the family, he had truly believed, deep down, that his father only wanted him to succeed. In later years he had come to realise that there was more to it. On some level, Robert Normandin was little more than a bully, a weathered and worn old man who loved to be in control, and now that he was no longer Alpha, he frequently found himself pulled up short by his own son. Mason refused to let his father browbeat his brothers, he boldly put a stop to it when he was around, not caring in the least who saw or heard him. Mason knew for a fact that Robert would never forgive him for the time he had commanded him to stop talking to Kyle like he was baby in full view and earshot of their guests and staff. The party hadn't lasted long after that, Robert excusing himself under some false pretence and the guests no doubt feeling awkward and no longer in high spirits. Mason hadn't cared in the least, the rush of satisfaction he had felt when his father had not only acknowledged him, but obeyed him, had been more than he ever could have hoped for. Now that Mason was Alpha, Robert had to play the game, toe the line like everyone else, but that didn't mean he couldn't push, and this was one of his ways to do just that. Robert never tried to hide how much he disapproved of Mason spending so much time away from the family.
Such a hypocrite. Mason spent more time with his family than Robert ever had when he'd been able to hold down a job. Now he only socialised with them so much because he had no choice, because Mason had ruined his legs and he could only move around freely for limited periods of time before needing to rest. Even now, Mason felt no shame for the way he had chosen to take command.
"I said exactly what I meant, father, as you well know." He lifted his gaze from the paper then, the angle of his head giving him a distinctly predatory air, and a displeased one at that. A wolf with his head angled low and his eyes fixed on a fellow predator meant only one thing. A challenge, or in this case, a warning. When his father chose -- and wisely so -- not to respond, Mason raised his head, making sure to lift his chin as he did so, ensuring he carried an air of confidence and dominance. "I have other plans."
"I'm sure you do."
Mason managed to swallow back the growl through sheer force of will, but he kept his gaze locked with his father, not even blinking. Instead of speaking, he stared, practically daring his father to speak his mind. Mason knew very well what Robert wanted to say, that the older wolf had a very good idea what his son's plans would be this morning; he was well aware how little his parents cared for his relationship with a bitten wolf, one of little to no social standing. Go ahead and say it, if you dare, that stare said, go ahead and try to insult her to my face.
Naturally, and wisely, his father did no such thing. Mason had always suspected that even without the aid of a gun loaded with silver he would have been able to best his father in a fight, and he believed Robert knew that as well. Now there was no doubt about who would win.
"I believe I can hear your mother calling," Robert said, his voice stiff and hard with barely-restrained anger.
"You'd best run along then," Mason returned gruffly. "It's rude to keep a lady waiting." He saw that anger flash in his father's eyes, but he continued to stare levelly until Robert did the only thing left for him to do. The older wolf back up and then turned around to limp away. Mason watched him go, the way his steps were carefully calculated, the movement of his legs rigid and uncomfortable so soon after a full night spent in wolf form.
Good. Mason hoped it was painful.