moonshadows: (Warcraft)
[personal profile] moonshadows

Joshua isn't exactly surprised when two guards fall into step behind him, not with how edgy the Warlord was at letting Tessa out of his sight. The guards at her door are ready for him; he doesn't even have to slow down to enter. The two shadowing him peel off smoothly at the door, and he wonders briefly if this is what it feels like to be the Warlord.

The memory of murderous rage held at bay by sheer force of will surfaces. On second thought, he doesn't really want to know what it feels like to be the Warlord.

"Just a minute, Uncle Josh!"

Joshua grins as his pseudo-niece calls out from the bathroom. No doubt she's putting some finishing touch on her hair. The familiar domestic annoyance is almost painfully nostalgic - has it really only been just over a month? It feels like a lifetime ago that he watched the double doors close behind her and was certain it would be the last time he saw her.

"Okay, I'm ready!"

She grins at him as she flounces out of the bathroom, hair pulled up into the sort of high ponytail that was popular in his mother's youth and tied with a red ribbon. If she's trying to reassure her grandmother that she's not being tortured or ravished, she's certainly dressing the part. The long, loose skirt of heavy red fabric, the matching sweater, the pristine white blouse, the white socks with zigzagging red stripes that go up to her knees with little red tassels on the top - it's not precisely what Good Girls wore in his mother's day, but it's close enough to speak louder than words.

"Very subtle," he says dryly, and she shrugs. "All set? Okay then, let's go have dinner."

The guards fall into step as they leave. It's a relatively short trip, easy enough for her to memorize, and the apartments Joshua and his parents have been moved to are in a section of residential tunnels that's nearly as opulent as hers. The guards take up their usual defensive stance on either side of the door as Joshua unlocks it and steps inside. A quick look around reveals no one in sight, and Josh gives his niece a wink.

"Grandma! Grandpa! I'm ho-ome!"

"TESSA?!?" Clatter and clanging from the kitchen precedes the older woman that comes hustling out to give the half-demon a hug before holding her critically at arm's length. "You're too thin, doesn't that butcher feed you?"

For a terrible moment, Joshua is afraid that Tessa will take offense to the slight on her master - but she rolls her eyes with good humor. "Grandma, I don't need to eat."

"Of course you do, you're skin and bones." The older woman sniffs disdainfully. "I'm surprised that bully let you out of whatever dark, dank dungeon he keeps you in."

"He keeps me in a posh apartment, Grandma. I've got a huge bed and a huge bathtub and my own laundry facilities." The half-demon flounces over to the ottoman she favors and plops comfortably down on it.

"A posh prison is still a prison." Joshua's mother frowns, arms crossed. "He's got no right to keep you cooped up like that. What do you do all day?"

The serene smile Josh has seen once before makes a second appearance. "My job."

Joshua winces, but the explosion doesn't come. He's fairly certain he doesn't want to know how Tessa managed to prevent the rant he was sure was about to be unleashed by his mother.

"Joshie, go help your father set the table. I've got to finish this roast and get the pie out of the oven."

"Yes, Mother," he says, but she's already hustling back into the kitchen.
               ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So, Tessa," Joshua's father says as he lays a slice of roast on her plate next to sliced potatoes, salad, and roll, "Josh tells me you've actually managed to make a career for yourself serving our Lord. Is that true?"

She ducks her head demurely. "There's certain things he needs me to do, things that no one else can. I do them."

"This 'doing' better not be happening in the bedroom, young lady!"

"Grandma!" Tessa's cheeks darken. "I...no! He would never..."

The older woman pauses in cutting her roast as though it had personally offended her, pointing the fork at her adopted granddaughter. "..or out of the bedroom either!"

"No!"

"Ah-ha! No, but you want it to."

Cheeks burning now, the teenager busies herself with potatoes and meat. She can't possibly be expected to answer with her mouth full.

"I don't know what you see in that heartless warmonger," Joshua's mother chides.

Joshua does, but he has absolutely no desire to think about that right now. Or ever.

Tessa swallows. “He’s not heartless,” she says softly, eyes firmly on her plate. “He can be kind.” There’s so much more she wants to tell them about him, to make them see that he’s not cruel, he’s just lashing out in pain - but he would be very unhappy with her if she did so. 

Silence descends on the table in the wake of her declaration. Finally, her adopted grandfather clears his throat. “Tessa, sweetling, I think you’re seeing something that isn’t there. If he has a nice side, no one’s ever seen it.”

“I have.” Joshua isn’t sure why he just came to the Warlord’s defense, except that something in his niece’s bowed posture reminded him of manicured hands clasping themselves so tightly that they trembled, holding back the fear that once offered freedom, his tame demon would never return to her gilded cage. “He goes about it sort of indirectly, but I have seen him do nice things.”

At that, Joshua’s mother scoffs disbelievingly and stabs a potato. “I’ll believe that when I see it. Bloody butcher…”

Joshua’s lips twitch. “Well, Mother, you’ll have your chance. I invited him to join us for dinner two weeks from now.”

Both his parents stare at him in horrified shock, but in his mind, this is more than outweighed by the surprised joy on his niece's face. 

"Josh," his father says in a strangled tone, "what have you done?"

"He'll kill us!"

"He's not going to kill you, Mother."

"Why did you bring us to his attention, son?"

"Dad." Joshua takes a deep breath, bracing for the effort of trying to break through his parents' paranoia. "He doesn't just randomly kill people. I work with him. I've said things he didn't like, and I'm still here. Anyway, he promised that he won't kill or eat you, Mother."

"Aaaaaah! He eats people?"

"Mother. He doesn't eat people," Joshua says sternly, rolling his eyes.

"Don't you roll your eyes at me, young man," she snaps, histrionics forgotten. "Show some respect for your poor old mother."

"I'm sorry, Mother," he say contritely, leaning over to give her the expected kiss on the cheek.

"That's better." Mollified, she pokes her fork in his direction. "Now eat your dinner before it gets cold."

"Yes, Mother."

Tessa pops a bit of roast into her mouth and chews to hide her grin. Now that she's back, she realizes that she's missed her grandmother's hysterics. I'll have to come back for Week's Dusk dinner more often, she thinks, and then her train of thought is promptly derailed by the thought of her Kal'shan sitting at the table with them.

"Where's he going to sit?"

It's not until the words are out of her mouth that she realizes she's said them out loud. Hastily, she takes a bite of potato as her grandparents exchange a glance. It fascinates her the way they can communicate without either words or mind-link, each knowing the other's thoughts just from years of familiarity. The head? No, that's your place. Next to Tessa? What, so they can grope under the table? Text to Josh. And leave Tessa on the other side by herself? Move Josh over, put him on the other side? No good, it would be too crowded.

"Josh, does that fancy job of yours pay enough for a nice round dinner table big enough for five or six?"

It's Joshua's turn to be surprised, now. "I...if not, Tessa's expense account will. But-"

"If he's at our table, then he's family," his father says firmly. "We raised you with enough sense to pick the bad apples out of the bushel. You offered him the hospitality of our home, so we're going to stand behind that offer and trust that there's something there we just haven't seen yet." He smiles at Tessa. "After all, you were right about this little rascal."

She beams at her adoptive grandfather, then ducks her head slightly. "Thank you, Grandpa," she says quietly.

"Well, that's settled, and that's all well and good, but we have more important things to discuss." A lettuce-laden fork is jabbed in Tessa's direction. "Namely, what am I going to cook?"

"Oatmeal-raisin cookies?" the half-demon asks hopefully.

"Hmph. That's not a suitable dessert for a Warlord. He'll get my rhubarb-lemon pie and like it."

Joshua and his father share a look as the women debate main courses and side dishes.

"She really likes him, then?" The question is hardly louder than a murmur.

"She really does," Joshua answers just as quietly. "I think he likes her, too, but he gets....very defensive about it. Better not to mention it at all."

"Hmm. Well, she's old enough to make her own choices, and I trust she can take care of herself."

At that, Joshua laughs softly. "Don't worry about her, Dad. Worry about anyone foolish enough to get between them."

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