Tik Tik's Winter Tales 4
Story by TikTikKobold on SoFurry
Tybalt travels far to participate in a family reunion he never expected nor asked for.
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The winter’s night can remind one of many things—of the accomplishment of mortals in the struggle to survive, of the comforts of loved ones, and of the fears that we so much try to fight back. But one thing that the cozy fire, the structure of a good home, and the storm outside can really symbolize is the entire scope of the concept of family. After all, is there anything more simple, yet so much more complex, than familial relations?
It’s a strange concept indeed. There is this allegiance to others not by creed nor conviction but by simple circumstances of birth, and that could be pretty special or quite disastrous.
—
Through the cold winter’s night, the cloaked traveler walks, clinging his traveling gear close to him, clasping his source of warmth and the summons that brought him to this remote location and this lonely cabin in the middle of the wilderness.
His knock comes loud from a steady hand and the armor that gauntlets his strikes. It isn’t long before the door opens, though the snow makes it somewhat tricky.
On the other side is a tall, robust, broad-shouldered man with a thick green beard to compensate for his balding head. He stares at the traveler with fiery orange eyes.
And the traveler lifts his head, matching the human’s gaze with his own eyes—those same eyes.
“By the gods, lad,” the man says, stepping aside and ushering him in. “Come in, come in.”
The traveler sheds his soaked cloak, revealing his smooth, toned, bare chest and gleaming armor. His half-elven ears perk up. “So, this is the place? You are Edgard?”
“Yes, that’s me,” said the giant man, picking up the cloak. “I’d ask ya to remove that wet armor and warm yourself, but I don’t think you got anything else under there.”
“And you’re correct,” says Tybalt, holding out the letter. “Where is my… our… father?”
“Not here right yet,” the man says. “Hey, do ye wanna meet the others first, cousin?”
Tybalt closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “That would probably be for the best,” he finally says.
Edgard nods and leads the paladin deeper into the home, where the fire's smoky scent and dancing lights cast cozy shadows over other forms.
A woman with feline ears and whiskers perks up, tossing a dagger casually in her deft hands. With a purring smile, she nods to the paladin.
Nearby, an old man sits hunched by the fire, his long hair long since made gray, but his eyes have the same brilliance as they ever had. He smiles with a toothless grin, waving to the newcomer.
A goblin stumbles from the dinner table, grappling with a gnome, wrestling on the floor with bumps, scrapes, scratches, and bites.
Tybalt squats between the two, grabbing them by their slightly pointed ears and tugging. “Now, is this a way to treat family?” the half-elf says.
They look up to him with the same burning eyes—their father’s.
Tybalt frowns, standing up, hands on his hips. “We all should remember to love one another. That is what is important. There’s no social connection between us,” he admits, placing a hand upon his breast, “But it is the actions of another, spreading love as was seen fit, that brought us all here today.”
“Yeah, because dear old dad couldn’t keep it in his pants,” says the cat, balancing the tip of her knife upon her finger. “Left us on the street and all, wot?”
“Speak for yourself,” says the old man, tapping his cane on the ground. “My forebear gave me an important mission, and I was a great tradesman at an important company… back in the day.”
“And I was a mine boss!” yips the gnome.
“Daddy told me to be the leader of a great tribe!” barks the goblin.
“Our father all had plans for us, whether we knew it or not,” says Tybalt. “And now… we’re going to confront the one who brought us here. Have you any concerns?”
Edgard sniffs and strokes his beard. “Well, I had never met our father, brother. All I know is that we are of elven blood.”
“Yeah, and a little devil,” chuckles the cat, stabbing the table in front of her. “Thanks a lot for that, dear old dad.”
A chill wind rushes through the cabin, the fire flickering wildly, casting shapes throughout. A cloaked figure with those same burning eyes stands behind the cat, and dainty gloved hands rest upon her shoulders.
“You’re welcome, my pet,” the soft voice coos and thick lips press to the top of her head. “You have the same spunk as your mother had.”
The feline whips around, her eyes wide. “W-what?”
The elf coos softly, pulling the hood down. Her green hair rolls over her shoulders, and she places a hand upon a wide hip. “I’m so glad we could have a family reunion,” she says.
“Elicia,” says Tybalt. “You’ve done many perverse things in your life, and you call us to parlay with you now. Why is that?”
The elf sighs and shakes her head. “I know when it’s time to take a break. I’m done with my plots to take over the country and overthrow kings.” She plops down on a chair, propping her boots on the coffee table. “I just want to get to know my kids. Maybe pay some catch.
Tybalt snorts.
“At the very least,” she says, tapping her cheek. “I want to have a happy holiday with my family.”
—
Family is a complicated thing. One is drawn inexorably towards it as if it were a great magic more potent than an archmage’s most powerful curse. And no matter what we do, we cannot escape from its grasp, as we are bound in blood. The sooner we make peace with it, the sooner we can mend the wounds, even if they may leave a scar.