Fishing & co

One day, in a day like any other day, because it is a day, in a week, which happens to be a day, there was one Esparian. Whom actually was one of the few people in the world with in fact a mustache, as it is a rather huge phenomenon to see a very rare amount of men in the world with in fact a mustache on their face. He wore a Hawaiian themed red shirt, some slacks and Oxford's, with a mighty fine Fedora. It was obvious, he wore clothes. Because he wore clothes. And for that, he is a person with two arms wearing clothes, and would be referred to as such.

This indeed, is the President of Esparia, Generalisimo, Don of the now defunct Esparian cartel, Vasco Allende. On a boat, with his adopted daughter, whom should be pretty healed up at this point (after he had all doctors whom treated her a nice opportunity to have a vacation in Panei for those that botched up on helping her). Holding out a rod on these calm seas just outside of Kamehan, or Kamehameha, or whatever the Hell they call themselves. If they want to call themselves after a Dragon Ball Z attack, then whom is Vasco to complain about their strange sense of self-naming?

Anyways, he was fishing on the back of the boat by the left side, with a stack of crabs (not the STD), on his side in some plastic basket. All trying to escape, but instead, end up trying to wrestle with each other with their ginormous claws. Not ONE proper fish was caught today, oddly they were just stupid crustaceans, and one boot. Much to Vasco's annoyance. But still, his little Fran was here much to his delight.

"Lovely day, isn't it, eh Francake?" He says in his native Esparian, which was done in the motion of moving his jaws to formulate the process known as "speaking." Relatively an evolved form of snorting and grunting monkeys tend to do, given Vasco was in fact pretty much more evolved than your average primate.

She was trying unbelievably hard to be happy for him--for Vasco's sake. Once, father-person, he was now reduced to 'Vasco'. It hurt to call him that, no, it hurt even to think of him as anything other than what he had always been: father-person. Blinking away a prick of tears, she continued to fish in her traditional way. Wielding a pink fishing rod, she hung upside down, feet that were Rouenian clutching the side of the boat. Rouenian. Her sea green eyes slid closed in a sigh. She had to try harder. Although she was fully healed with a hefty scar to prove it, she still felt woozy all the time from the blood loss. Being Rouenian meant that she had a rare blood type that only her kind possessed. It was something extinct now... She flung herself up and back onto the deck, bare feet brushing against the worn wood she knew could give her splinters. Her mind felt stuck--stuck in the misery that was the truth. Why had Vasco asked her alone to come? Wasn't he worried about his own protection, about other things unrelated to her? He certainly had tended to her care when she was returned to Esparia in shambles. She stood before him now only because of that.

She was thankful, but...
Everyone had been there for her, but...

The idea of Miguel murdering her past... The idea of Vasco finding her with no relation... "Lovely day, isn't it, eh Francake?" He acted the same--the same as he always had. She...Her, the problem was with her. She was what was different--what didn't fit the picture. With her strange hair color, her alien skin tones. Fran. Fran was what didn't belong at Vasco's side. She felt the tears come again, but when she blinked the sting away, the warm drops fell down her face and splattered on the tops of her toes where little hairs grew. She found herself moving before moving registered, her arm wrapping listlessly around his waist. Her face buried itself somewhere in the red Hawaiian shirt and was lost among the threads. She sobbed, wailed, didn't know what she was doing until she managed to stutter words--words that had language and meaning--words that reduced her simply to an evolved primate not of Rouen origin. "I...Iwannabewiff...with you forever. Don't letittake me awayyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!"

He was ignorant all this time. Ignorant of the entirety of what wedge was carved deep into her soul, narrowing into a scar of the mind. Hands leased its grip of the fishing rods, letting the seas devour it into its murky womb, the abyss of no return. Her face darkened his Hawaiian shirt, staining it with the tears of an angel, yet Vasco calmly brandished the back of her head with the motions of petting. Confused, but certainly not startled. Questions ran into his mind, was Vito responsible? Because so God help him so, he WILL have a squad beat him up if his precious Francesca was scarred by that perverted lunatic whom no doubt he knew had designs on her. An angel not to be sullied by that man's clammy hands.

"I...Iwannabewiff...with you forever. Don't letittake me awayyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!"



That was just... beautiful. Even her moments of sorrow, Vasco couldn't be sad with her. Only happy with joy of being relied upon, of being her father. Nothing in common with blood yet connected through the bond of parenthood. The pride of a patriarch boiled up in his chest in splendor, tipping his foster daughter apart to look at her straight into her eyes with a soft smile. A smile he uses only with family and close ones. And she was his family. He didn't deserve her though... but there was much to atone in Rouen for his wily ways. It was only right he took her in and gave her what he deprived her of.

"Nothing will take you away, mi hermosa. Nothing." Assurances stream out of his mouth, the same mouth he used to give so many orders to warrant deaths, that same mouth he used to insult, now used in means of peace, for the only redemption in this world of his being Francesca, a freedom he will never attain from the conscience, "Now tell me, what's wrong? Did that scumbag Vito do something to you? Did he dare lay a hand on you?! You can trust me, I am always there for you, Francesca."

Glossy strands fell away with each stroke of his hand, licks of saltwater staining both the green and her cheeks. She found with horror that she couldn't stop the involuntary sobs that wrecked through her small frame. Gold paint chipped away from the wood that outlined the sad story of a girl who hadn't known herself for twenty years until now, where she clung like a five-year-old to the shirt of a man that wasn't even her father. It was a wave--a brave, giant tsunami with cresting white like the snows of Drachma (and Vasco's hair once he got older). It had crashed head-long into his torso, but hadn't swayed him. He stood against the tides, strong, confident and father-personly with all his petting motions that soothed her into silence--the quiet after the storm.

"Nothing will take you away, mi hermosa. Nothing." ...Nothing? Not even--? He said it...as clearly as day would be in a day. No clouds, no wreckage after the wave; nothing was left, but that single assurance. She felt the tears stop, her eyes almost burning from how dry they suddenly became. He was looking at her with those eyes. Those eyes. They spoke levels without speaking, making Fran really, truly believe that there should be a language called Father-person-alienage-gaze. Then...he smiled. Such a simple thing on a complex father-person. A rare, special smile...only for her, to keep, to treasure...forever. Rain clouds formed again, but she shook them away, making a childish determined face. 'It was like the sun coming out after the rain!'

"Now tell me, what's wrong?" ...Father-person didn't know? He...he...

...

He had no idea? She swallowed her heart that galloped like a race horse's hooves over her chest, nearly crushing it with the weight of that realization. "Did that scumbag Vito do something to you?" ...Vito? Flashes of the last time she saw him at the hospital broke through her mind, breaching the forefront and bubbling out through sea green eyes.

"No..." she murmured into his shirt, the sound muffled and not audible in the slightest.

"Did he dare lay a hand on you?!"

"No," she managed to say louder, her voice drowning in itself and sounding strangled. No, it wasn't Vito. Vito...Vito hugged her--Vito, he...

"You can trust me, I am always there for you, Francesca."

"He...he was there for me...when--right after I found out I was Rouenian..." She continued to hide her face, pressed into Vasco's stomachy softness. "He used his lips on mine to promise not to leave my side...I don't get it really, but...tío--Miguel......................" Fran couldn't continue, smothering herself with his shirt before another sobfest burst into her system, guns blazing. After a few moments, she sucked in a deep breath to calm herself and re-wrapped her arms around father-person. "He...said I-- if he protected me, if he kept me safe and happy, that...h-he could atone for his sins of killing Rouenians... He said that..." She pulled away slightly, looking up at Vasco with leaky, glassy eyes. "I was raised to be something I'm not, brought up to serve as a means of redemption...? I--I was lied to...tricked all...all this time? He killed, murdered, and pillaged my people that I don't even remember. ...I...sometimes wonder if maybe ignorance was better than knowing who I am. FATHER-PERSON, does...does my smile erase those sins!? Are...are my Rouenian ancestors grinning back with their rigor mortise smiles, thankful despite their own demise!? Tell me...because...because...I don't even know who I am anymore!!"

A deathly glare settled into Vasco's face, a vacant stare that looked straight past his daughter. His lovely daughter. That purity which is his last bastion of a redemption at life, all the horrors of Rouen purified by her... yet... she was tainted. His precious Francesca, that freedom he sought, tainted by Reyes, that sorry piece of filth. It made Vasco ball up his fist in a great rage that boiled within his chest, so great an anger. He felt his heart pound hard, straining his chest a great deal. He couldn't bear grip it, he was numbed by the fury of his rage. But how did such a thing come to be? It came from a revelation...

"He...he was there for me...when--right after I found out I was Rouenian..."

Badomp.

BaDOMP.

BADOMP.

"He used his lips on mine to promise not to leave my side... I don't get it really, but...tío--Miguel..."

This was a nightmare. It had not to be real. If it was, fate was cruel to him, after all his protection, he couldn't set her the straight path? To avert her from following someone that obviously has blood on his hands. That carried some ungraceful taint of sorts. Vito probably manipulated Francesca's good-hearted nature, and sullied her pure lips. His heart continued to beat harshly, paining him, but Allende ignored it, he couldn't turn away... not even for a second.

"He...said I-- if he protected me, if he kept me safe and happy, that...h-he could atone for his sins of killing Rouenians... He said that... I was raised to be something I'm not, brought up to serve as a means of redemption...? I--I was lied to...tricked all...all this time? He killed, murdered, and pillaged my people that I don't even remember. ...I...sometimes wonder if maybe ignorance was better than knowing who I am. FATHER-PERSON, does...does my smile erase those sins!? Are...are my Rouenian ancestors grinning back with their rigor mortise smiles, thankful despite their own demise!? Tell me...because...because...I don't even know who I am anymore!!"

"I guess the cat is out of the bag. I... am just that selfish to set you right, to treat you the best in the world, to make up for all the wrongs I've done to you... to be a father to you when I took your mother away..." Vasco gripped his chest, finally, just finally acknowledging that pain that plagued him terribly, throbbing and snaking through his chest, "Ahhh... Miguel does not know how to word things right. You were NEVER a means to redemption, that is not why I took you in, no, but because I genuinely have grown to love you. I hurt you without you ever knowing."

He tightened his hug affectionately, his face was in pain, but he kept it all in. He was to take it all for her, he couldn't dare show weakness to someone that needs all the love in the world.

"Yes... your smile, your smile erases all sins. It doesn't matter if we share the blood or not, it is worth it raising you enough no matter what relations we have." He said in a raspy tone, clearing it up to be somewhat normal, "Francesca, you are my daughter, and nothing in the world will change that. I will be there for you, always till the end of my life."

Sometimes...sometimes you can feel it--you can feel when someone feels strongly. Not usually could she sense these things, but maybe it was in the blank look that sailed like a mast past her and sinking straight into the depths of the ocean surrounding them. It wasn't the same look that he held just moments ago. It changed--was different--morphed into a soggy white mast, dripping painfully onto her cheeks. The weight there nearly toppled her, nails digging into each other as they clutched the tropical shirt that mocked her misery with an exciting Hawaiian pattern. He was angry. She knew...Fran knew that father-person felt that heated rage--it was waving off him like standing too close to an open oven. Her cheeks burned, and the feeling coming from him was almost too much to handle. She squeezed her eyes shut and was afraid. Had she done something wrong? "I guess the cat is out of the bag." She swallowed, feeling the rawness of her throat and tasting the salt in the air. Bracing herself, she felt her grip loosen and loosen until she was barely touching father-person. His voice...permeated into the depths of her everything, meaning everything to her. "I... am just that selfish to set you right, to treat you the best in the world, to make up for all the wrongs I've done to you... to be a father to you when I took your mother away..." Her mother? Fran stared bewildered at him. Her...mother? She had...a mother? That's right, Fran wasn't an alien; she was Rouenian. Rouenians had mothers--were humans. But she was from Mars. Couldn't she have been a Rouenian from Mars? She had a mother. A...mother? What was that like? Occasionally, she remembered seeing children holding the hands of older women, smiling, skipping with them in the sand, but...never had Fran really thought about it. So that...that was a mother? She....didn't know how to feel, but... Someone died. Someone who was related to her--that probably also...loved her? She...Fran didn't need a mother. She didn't need one. But...was needing necessary to having one? A mother--the one that gave birth to her. Suddenly struck with the realization, she felt like she had ran full-speed into a wall (which she had often done in the past).

"Ahhh... Miguel does not know how to word things right. You were NEVER a means to redemption, that is not why I took you in, no, but because I genuinely have grown to love you. I hurt you without you ever knowing." That's right. She hadn't known. She had had no idea. Learning of it now was...was insane. She felt betrayed--hurt...but why? Why. She didn't understand how they could have kept something like this from her. The shock was unbelievable even now... She touched the place where she had been shot, wincing slightly as just the softest brush echoed aches into her core. She bit her lip, holding the tears back as best as she could so she could still see father-person's expression. That, surprisingly...meant more to her than anything. Vasco suddenly pulled her closer, hugging her, his face contorting into a mask of pain, struggling--fighting not to look as such. But she had spent twenty years gazing up into that face. If she couldn't know what he thought--how he felt by now, then...Fran would truly be.....alone. "Yes... your smile, your smile erases all sins. It doesn't matter if we share the blood or not, it is worth it raising you enough no matter what relations we have. Francesca, you are my daughter, and nothing in the world will change that. I will be there for you, always till the end of my life."

"Does it hurt?" She blurted out, "You..." She reached up a tentative hand and ghosted across his cheek, her eyes lit up in beams of sunlight breaking through the clouds overhead. "Don't look so sad, father-person. If...if my smile erases sins, then...if I follow you everywhere, everything will be okay, right?" Softly, slowly...she forced a smile, childish, and brimming with emotion. "till the end of my life?"

He paused. The dawn it occurred to him over a simple question. So simple, that it could mean a myriad of many things. Perhaps it meant mentally? Perhaps physically? The simplicity unfolded into many complexities, warped by many thoughts coarsing through his head beating against it with insistent paranoia. Was everything he worked so hard for toppling over? Will she take this news with horror knowing her 'father' is her mother's murderer? She is so very young, yet such youth left him with an impression that she might be so vulnerable at mind.

He was wrong.

The word that caused him surprise were but simple words of... "Does it hurt?"

She saw through his pain somehow as he guessed, the stress that comes from leadership, fatherhood and a good old dose of truth. And as the saying goes, truth hurts, which is certainly true in this case. Or was this all but a mere innocent sign of her care and affection?

"You..." That soft hand of hers, it gave him a goose bump for his otherwise tough exterior, tensing slightly. She was too soft, too pure. Too innocent to a point as he figured, she saw things for what they were... there was no political correctness to it, no complexities, none of that stuff. Just a simple girl seeing things simply for what they are. "Don't look so sad, father-person. If...if my smile erases sins, then...if I follow you everywhere, everything will be okay, right?"

He smiles back at her, easing up his pained face into a sincere and pleasant beam back at her. "Till the end of my life?"

"Francesca, you don't have to be bound to me. Your name... you ever wonder what it meant?" He brushed his fingers into her scalp, suddenly at peace with himself, "It means free one... everything will be all right when you fly free like our national sparrow. You are too good for me, for all the horrible things I have done to you when you were but a little girl, for all the horrible things I have taken part of in Rouen."

He looks at the sunset, it was dawning, shimmering orange contrasted to the sea's blue, shining brilliantly like the azure star. It fits quite well, an eternal horizon forever never ending, "When you come of age, one day, I will set you free like a bird. You will never come to know sadness again, only happiness, as you deserved always."

[GODDAMMIT NIKO. of course you reply the day after I delete her. -sobs- T___T]