Child of the Order

"And why is that?" She asked icily. The corners of her mouth turned up in a mock-smile. "You think he'd be better than I am? How disappointed you would have been. Were he not dead, that is."

Vincent's expression turned into a frown and he pulled away from his mother at that, getting up to pace in front of her. "I think, maybe, he would have been less crazy at least. And I refuse to believe he's dead. Not with all the other lies you've given me through the years." About Alessa, about their purpose there, about his life.. about everything.

"If I've done at least one thing right, I've avoided having kids." She said with some pride. "My tarantulas are the only babies I need." She glanced over at him. "D 'you have any pets?"

"Pets? No." Still grumbling, a little, Vincent glanced back over at his emotionally vacillating companion. "I always just assumed all the creepy monsters and shit were pets." A smile. Not quite bright, but close.

"Don't be ridiculous." She told him dismissively. "There are far greater things to be afraid of than your mother." She smoothed one hand over his hair. "With any luck, you'll never have to face those things."

Worse things to fear, maybe. But none quite so fearsome. Vincent wanted to please her, first and foremost, but wasn't that the way of every struggling young adult boy? "Mother?" She'd shaken him to the core. It was only fair he offer a similar experience. There was hope in his tone (satisfaction churning in his stomach), as he said, "I'd like to meet my father."

She sighed wearily and sat on the edge of his bed, motioning for him to sit next to her. “I’ll let it go this time, as a warning, but don’t forget what happens to those who are compelled by their own desires.”

Vincent went, obediently, and sat beside his mother on his bed. He tilted his head against her shoulder, an act of subtle submission, showing his compliance to any and all of her demands. "I won't forget, Mother... but it wasn't my desire, I was just..." He took a breath, completed the admission of, "...I'm terrified of you."

"My kid?" She frowned. "I don't have a kid... Mitzi is a tarantula." A slow smile spread across her face. "You thought I meant a human baby? Why would I make a baby live in a box? I ain't that crazy, dude." She chuckled and shook her head.

And just like that, Vincent deflated. He huffed a breath of frustration -- the one interesting thing he might have done today -- and flopped back against the seat of the car. "Oh." His fingers drummed on the handle, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. "Jack's is fine then."

"I don't know..." She said gravely, cupping his cheek in one raw hand. "I wish I could believe you, but-"

I wish I could believe you, too, Mother. Luckily, the boy stopped himself before the words left his lips. But Vincent's face was set in stark desperation now, and he reached up to grasp his mother's hand at his cheek. "I'll do whatever you want. I'll stay in. Just please... don't send me there." Nothing could be worse than being trapped in your own mind.

"My baby, Mitzi." She said fondly. "I gave her to an... Acquaintance of mine because she couldn't come to Brookhaven with me, but I gave to get her back. Even if it means she has to live in a box. I'm going to Jack's, if that's okay with you."

"Forget Jack's, let's go get your kid." He sat forward, almost excitedly, eyes darting over the dashboard into the expanse of Silent Hill. It never seemed to get brighter. "Seriously, let's get her. I can tell you're pretty ripped up without her, so..."

"Maine is fucked." She answered. "Age of consent is sixteen here. Sex is old news by the time you're eighteen. You have to get a head start on your teenage debauchery in junior high. It's fucked."

As she pulled away down the road, it started to rain. "Normally I'd take you home but I'm still working on the whole apartment situation, so I've been hopping between Jack's Inn and a storage unit. What a mess. Archbolt still has my baby too... "

"This whole place is fucked." It came in a mumble as he looked out of the window at the rain coming down. What he wouldn't give right now just to drive. Through the mist, past the city limits, only this time... never come back. "Your what?" His eyebrows lifted at her turned to look at her, senses catching up belatedly to information. "Your baby? You have a baby?"

"Maybe I have... " she raised her head slowly. "maybe I've given you far too much to take for granted. Maybe I should remedy that." She smoothed her skirt again and lifted her chin. "Perhaps an extended visit with your grandfather will fix your behavior."

Panic surged. And once again, Vincent was compliant. Pliable. Repentant. God, the control she had over him was sickening. "No. Mother." He started forward, took her face in his hands, forced her to look at him. "I'm fine. Mother, see? Look at me, I'm fine... please. I don't... I'm sorry. For everything. I'm sorry... I didn't mean to hurt you. Please. I don't need to go to Grandfather..."

"A babysitter?" She mused, stepping outside. "I at least still have my car; where are we going?" She unlocked the green Volkswagen beetle and got behind the wheel. She waited until he was in the car before adding, "you can't do any of the fun stuff with an eighteen year old."

Vincent's eyebrows lifted, but he did fit himself into the passenger's seat, buckling himself in. She was sassy. He liked sassy. Blame it on having a mother like his, but he always found it amusing (appealing?) when a woman was a step ahead of him. "I don't have a car at all. Or a license." He'd give her that. She seemed like she needed all of the attaboys she could spare. "You can do all of the fun stuff with an eighteen year old. You just can't tell anyone about it."

"You think I haven’t spared you all I can? Why do you imagine I do the things I do if not to protect you?"

Anger and hurt flashed briefly in her pale eyes before she turned her face away, effectively hiding it behind a curtain of hair. “Have I raised such an ungrateful child?”

"I think you do them because you don't know how to do anything else." His tone had regained a bit of venom, and a bit of volume. How heartbreaking it was to see his mother so vulnerable, but so much easier to confront her. "If I'm ungrateful, it's because you've raised me to be that way."

                 the idea of him killing her was hilarious,  the order                  was weak compared to her.          she wasn’t at full                   strength yet but by   everything holy she was close.                  the mention alessa    caused a shiver to run down                  her spine.            the girl who’d been forced to be a                   vessel to birth the raven.   ❝who do you think gave                  her the ability to bring       my paradise to fruition. i                   however cannot say i    agree with the methods,❞                  the effort was endearing though, ❝do not fear the                  beasts that roam here little wolf, you’re safe.❞

Comfort came in the damndest of places. It wasn't as though Vincent opposed the old religion. It had been indoctrinated into him from birth. He knew his lot in life, and knew what he'd been meant to do, but... Knowing and doing were often two entire separate things. He'd found that to be especially true after meeting Alessa. Learning who she was, and seeing that she was an innocent. Not the old tales he was told of her evil and darkness. Not the tales of destruction. In the end, she had been just a girl.

"Sure." She scoffed, bending over to type his name into the computer. "And I'm a natural redhead." She straightened up and winced as her spine cracked. "I need to stretch anyway; that chair is murder on my back. "

She checked her lipstick in the reflection of the computer screen and snatched up her coat.

It was a small victory, but it was a victory nevertheless. He rolled his eyes at her comment, but it was at least an attempt at humor (he thought), and contained himself with a somewhat genuine smile. "I'm eighteen. So... legally an adult." A shrug, and he held his arm towards the door, directing him out. "And anyway, you're the one wanting to hang around with a teenager, so what does that make you?"

                    ❝anything’s better than where i was,    child,❞ raven                     spoke with a laugh.      it was so boring, it drove her                     up a wall. as she found out about his rank however                     she tilted her head, ❝keep the darkness contained,                     and what would you do? kill g o d?❞

"If only I could. It'd liven things up here a little, don't you think?" Words that meant nothing. He didn't mean to kill God, or any of her incarnations. He barely knew how to keep himself alive here. "Alessa. It's about her, basically. Surely you know about Alessa." Of course, five hundred years was a long time. He wondered if any sort of time-lag applied here, or if the flawlessness of God, in all her terrible glory was all-knowing, even without witness.

She turned even paler than normal and wrenched her hands away, quickly drawing one across his cheek in a sharp smack. "You don't know anything." She whispered hoarsely.

Vincent didn't feel the slap until he saw her step away, and then he felt the sting keenly. His hand lifted to cover the place on his cheek where she'd hit, jaw slightly open in surprise. "I know more than you think." Oddly enough, it wasn't the slap that hurt the most.