Paths Taken

Romi

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Angelo's injuries were relatively minor in the grand scheme of things. His eardrums had been ruptured, damaged in the massive roar that had cleared the snow for them. The damage, once the doctor had written it out and shown it to him, was determined to be not that bad. The kind of thing that would be irritating, but that would heal in time. Partial hearing in a day or two. Full healing within two weeks. Focus on mouths and avoid loud places. His doctor had been midway through writing him an antibiotics prescription when Angelo had told him not to bother, explaining his general immunity to normal diseases or infections.

And then, less than an hour after arriving in the hospital, Angelo had headed down to the entrance to wait for his father to collect him.

He'd been texting him periodic updates, but he was eager to see him anyway. He could feel... what? Ideas. Frustrations. Plans and goals all floating around, joined by ringing and little else. His hearing hadn't come back enough to really hear anyone, anyway.
 

Kada

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As much as he had wanted to rush right over to the hospital as soon as he had gotten Angelo's first text, Basilio held off. If Angelo was texting him and sending pictures, then it couldn't be all that serious.

So he'd finished up the last of his daily work at the restaurant, mostly just checking delivery schedules and making sure that everything was in order, before he headed out.

He was given a wide berth as he stepped into the lobby, most people affected by his aura in a way that made him stand out by virtue of having no one within ten feet of him. When he saw Angelo he sighed with relief and crossed the distance between them to go hug his son.

He started to speak, but realized immediately that Angelo couldn't hear him. So instead he pulled out his phone and texted really quickly on a notepad app.

I'm glad you're ok. Do you need anything?
 

Romi

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Angelo had done a lot of texting for that very reason. To make sure people knew he was okay. Yes, he was in the hospital, but it was, as far as Angelo was concerned, largely a formality. Everyone had to go. Everyone had to be check to make sure there wasn't anything worse going on. He'd been hauled off to the hospital for mandatory checkups more than once after a particularly dangerous situation back in Halcyon, and this didn't feel any different to him.

Even so--For all his lack of caring about the trip to the hospital--seeing his father step in the hospital doors felt like a relief just the same, and Angelo didn't wait around, heading straight for his father and throwing his arms around him.

Physically, he looked fine. Angelo didn't even look banged up. He'd worn his super-suit to help with the weather, but it hadn't even gotten that far. He'd been totally unharmed, without a scratch on him. The only sign of anything was some light grey-blue fluid on one of his sleeves, but it wasn't immediately identifiable as blood, even if it was.

"Dad," Angelo said, happy he wasn't going to have to write everything out. He couldn't hear--he could see his dad's mouth moving, but couldn't read lips--but he could speak at least.

"I'm fine," he said after reading the message. "My ears are ringing and I-" He faltered for a moment, doing his best to adjust his volume. Probably talking too loudly. "I can't hear, obviously. Ruptured eardrum. Should heal in a week or two. Did the news already get out about what happened?"
 

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Well at least it wasn't more severe. We'll have to make sure you have plenty of time to rest and recover.

Basilio didn't bother to type out his response to Angelo's past question. He just nodded once, his lips drawing into s thin line. He didn't know all the details, but he had heard the explosion. And it wasn't as is the ice pillar in the suburbs was exactly subtle.

Putting a hand on Angelo's back, he gestured for them to head out the door. As he did he typed up another quick message

I took the bus here. Do you need food? We can stop somewhere to eat. Then home?
 

Romi

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The bus. The idea of his dad on a bus made him smile for very stupid reasons. It wasn't that his dad was too good for the bus--Angelo had grown to love public transit--but because the idea of it would have been all but unthinkable back in Halcyon. Things had changed a lot for them.

He nodded to the mention of food before realizing that, oops, he didn't need to.

"Food would be good," Angelo admitted. "I haven't eaten since... breakfast." Had had eaten lunch? No, he decided. He'd been planning to, and then the spire had gone up, and then... well, that had been an issue, hadn't it?

"Then home," Angelo said. "And... I don't know. Maybe I should wait until you can just talk back, but I kind of wanted to talk about things. Sitting around waiting for the-" Another pause as he tried to adjust his volume, a difficult task without any sort of point of reference, "sitting around waiting for the doctor gave me lots of time to think."
 

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As they waited on the bus, Basilio got an idea. Anytime Angelo's volume was off, too high or too low, he gently nudged him and pointed up or down with his thumb, using the angle he tilted it at to let him know if he needed to adjust a little or a lot.

A late lunch, then. There's a small place on the way home. We can stop there. I've heard decent things about them.

Basilio was stiff on the bus. He seemed too large for the seat, despite fitting as well as anyone else might have. He watched Angelo with a sideways look, not quite smiling but there was definitely an upward turn at the corner of his lip.

We can talk when we get home, sure. Forcing me to use text will give me more time to think up some fatherly wisdom.

He actually smiled at that. A joke. The restaurant the bus stopped them at was a small hole in the wall diner. Not at all the type of place someone in a nice Italian suit might be seen. But here they were regardless.
 

Romi

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His father was a fast study, and the indication of volume helped a lot with keeping Angelo from yelling all the time. It felt... normal. Like a normal thing a father and son would do. He'd always struggled with the distance between them, the fact that his father was so busy with work. Even if he knew now it had been his father keeping him safe from Adraxis, that didn't change that it had always been there.

Angelo didn't talk much in the restaurant. He was far more occupied with shoving food into his mouth, making up for the calories he'd burned running around. He didn't get tired the same way normal humans did, but he did burn the very same calories, and he'd burned a lot.

He was waiting on the bill before he finally managed to put his thoughts into words.

"I was thinking about--even before this, but especially now--about what I want to do after school. About degrees and careers and things like that. I thought for a bit about... about becoming a scout, or a veil agent or something like that. That seemed like something closest to what I did back in Halcyon. But..."

He trailed off for a moment, frustrated that he couldn't hear himself talking. It threw him off, for sure.

"I kept getting frustrated in there. That people were acting stupidly. That they were going to get themselves hurt, or killed or something. I don't think I could do it as a job. It was easier back in Halcyon, but here... everyone has powers. Everyone wants to be doing something. But no one has any sense of their own limits."
 

Kada

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Basilio was a slow eater, so the silence between the two of them had probably been longer than what many were used to. But silence was fine with Basilio as well. He could think when it was quiet. But Angelo did finally speak as he was dropping a last bit of uneaten bread from his sandwich onto his plate and waiting on the check. The food was passable, at least. With a short nod, Basilio pulled out his phone and typed away on it before sliding it across the table to Angelo.

At the risk of sounding like a super villain, most people are sheep but desperately want to be lions. Even in Halcyon though. You have no idea how many up and coming heroes died unceremoniously and without much news because no one knew who they were and their claim to power was some nonsense like making bubbles. It was why I was never fond of the whole hero business. It was flashy and alluring but ultimately the truly capable were as rare as the truly talented and timeless actors are.
 

Romi

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Angelo couldn't stop himself from laughing when he read the first line. Of course his father's advice would make him sound like a super villain. Mostly because he didn't want to alarm anyone sitting nearby, Angelo resisted the urge to say something along the lines of once a super villain, always a super villain.

"For me it's... it's about the what if. Everyone made it out. A lot of people were hurt, but no one died. Nothing was permanent. But getting people to follow instructions was hard. A lot of people ran off when they shouldn't have."

He was thinking of specific people, but it wasn't as if his father knew their names, so he didn't bother with examples.

"What if someone didn't follow my orders and got themselves killed? Or worse, what if they did follow my orders, but not the way I imagined them, and got themselves killed?"

Then it'd be there.

"I spent the whole time frustrated. It was dangerous and people could have died but all I could think was if people would just listen, none of this would be happening."

Which sounded bitter and awful in his head. People had been in danger. Kids had been in danger. And all he'd felt was frustrated.
 

Kada

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Basilio sat back and tapped a finger on the table, thinking after he had signed the check for their meal and handed it back to the server with a soft smile. He typed, then stopped, then typed some more as he and Angelo left the eatery and got on the bus to head home. It was a long time, after they had already gotten back home and were inside before he handed the phone over to his son. The message ended up not being terribly long, but he had taken a lot of time to think about what he wanted to say.

Your frustration is valid. I understand it all to well. That frustration was the primary reason I built up such a fearsome reputation: because if my ire was both certain and adequately frightening then people would ignore me less often. That is not something you would want to do, I understand. I think the first thing you should really do is to think: what kind of change do you want to actually make in the world?
 
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