Starting Afresh

[Tristan Drage]

Tristan sighed as he landed feetfirst onto a rather clean carpet, quite glad to have found a home to stay in. While he had been securing everything and dealing with legal matters as Ethan Mallard, his new alias. Elijah had grown up in Maine, having since worked at a lobster fishing company and deciding to move to Wisconsin to be closer to his family. He had found a quiet, northeastern town in the Midwest, quite content with it. It was peaceful and so far, he had not run into anything magical. It was inevitable, of course; those of magical heritage were everywhere. But for now, he was pretending to be a muggle, and always had been.

He released a large hand from Erik's shoulder, looking down to the little boy, who was rather somber as of late. Not to say that Tristan himself wasn't, of course. But he had resolved to force a content attitude for the kid; he wanted him to grow up the happiest he could, especially after what had happened. "Hey, kiddo," he started, with a crooked smile, "This is our place."

He looked around, observing the little home; he had already bought some furnishings, but as he was low on money he knew that he would need to secure a job, and a muggle one, most likely. It wasn't too terrible, though any hint at extravagance would be a laugh, alright; this was no Herrogard. But he would take security any day over the prospect of ten Herrogards.

 

[Erik Drage]

Erik, who was getting quite used to the sensation of apparition these days, looked up to his father, his blue eyes wide as he took in the new place. He did not want to let go of his father's hand, the bottom of his lip trembling. "Where's Mummy, Daddy?" He still did not understand that his mother was gone; he had a memory of her yelling, of course, but even that image was fading fast. All that he knew that he was no longer with her and was now with his father. Thus, he had persisted to ask the rhetorical question, hoping that he would get an answer, that his mother was just around the corner, with a smile and a hug.

 

[Tristan Drage]

Tristan's smile twisted into a frown, as he had been trying to keep his thoughts off of Morgase. It was painful for him to ponder that she was really gone, that he would never see her again in this world. Even worse, the guilt that plagued him ate steadily at his insides, making him feel as if he were going to be sick.

Running a hand through his hair, which was now short, he bent down to his knees, dropping his things to be at Erik's level. Even then, he still had to look down on the boy, attempting to make eye contact with him.

"Mummy won't be here, Erik," he stated sadly, knowing that the two and a half year old boy wouldn't really understand the concept of death. "It's just you and Daddy now. Okay?" He hated to say it, hated the words flowing past his lips. He didn't want to put Erik in any other state of upset but it was almost inevitable for the situation.

 

[Erik Drage]

Erik's tiny brow furrowed in contemplation; if the situation hadn't been so serious, he would have appeared quite comical. He mused for a moment, his voice reverting to the high pitched whine that he was accustomed to. "Otay," he replied, still unconvinced, his eyes wide as he took in the new place. A slew of doubt had settled in his stomach, working into his brain and clinging to the outer fringes of his mind, momentarily forgotten. In his child's mind, he did not know that sleep would be accompanied by nightmares that he could not relate afterwards; his mother crumpling to the ground, and a wild eyed man turned to him, wand raised. The memory would fade after sleep, waiting to replay when slumber claimed him once more.

Taking off from his father on stubby little legs, he wandered into the living room, looking around frantically for something to get his hands on. The bare space did not give him much, tugging at a rather boring lampshade quite unfruitful for him. Scuttling back to his father, he inquired sweetly, "Play, Daddy?"

 

[Tristan Drage]

Tristan's lip twisted in contemplation as he looked to his young son, wondering avidly what was going on in the little boy's mind. He hoped to Merlin that the boy still was not able to cling to concrete memory; the death of his mother would truly be a trouble thing to recollect, especially in later years.

He stood up as the boy ran off, hearing the muffled pit pat of his feet on the carpet of the living room, hearing it stop momentarily and then begin again, Erik reappearing once more, asking him his question with bright eyes.

"Play, Erik? Well, what do you want to play?" he asked croakily, unsure how he was supposed to respond, both vocally and physically.

 

[Erik Drage]

Tiny hands placed behind his back, the little boy wavered back and forth on his feet as he pondered upon the question, trying to figure out something to play. "Umm-" he stated, his voice high pitched and droning on, "Fly." It was something that he had been rarely allowed to do, but he absolutely loved to fly with his toy broomstick.

 

[Tristan Drage]

His brow furrowing in contemplation, Tristan wondered about it for a moment. Morgase had not liked Erik flying, but on the other hand, he knew that she had not been comfortable flying herself and was ultimately worried about Erik getting hurt. Tristan however figured that the boy needed to be able to fly, and well. He semi-complied with Morgase's wishes whenever Erik wanted to fly, on his tail whenever the boy was flying. Granted, he could only go so far and so high but there was still a chance of getting hurt.

"Okay, I'll get your broom, Erik," Tristan stated, smiling warmly, enthralled with the idea of being able to at least teach something worthwhile to his son, "But you can only fly inside, okay? Kind of like at Aunt Daisy's and Uncle Lief's. Other people in the neighborhood won't like you flying outside."

 

[Erik Drage]

"Otay!" Erik exclaimed, having listened to at least half of what his father had said. His pixie face lighting up with excitement, he started to jump up and down, exerting his seemingly boundless energy. "Wanna fly, Daddy! Wanna fly!"

 

[Tristan Drage]

Tristan shook his head slightly, smirking at the boy's antics. The gray hairs would be coming in much more rapidly soon enough, he figured. "Okay, champ. You can fly." With a slight grin he strode out of the sitting room and into the kitchen, where he had stored boxes of things he had accumulated before venturing to the Americas. Jamming his large hand into box, he moved around until his fingers curled around something sticklike. Pulling it out of the box he knelt down, holding it before him like a prize. "Here you go, Erik." He was quite proud that his son already knew how to mount a broomstick; at this rate he would be way ahead of his peers in flying classes.

The prospect of Erik attending school bothered him; indeed, where would he be sending him to school when the time came around? Granted, it would be a bit over nine years from now. Would he want to stick him in an American school or return to the Eastern Hemisphere? He was definitely more comfortable with a branch of Hogwarts, but he was just entirely unsure at this point. There was also the danger to consider.

 

[Erik Drage]

With a squeal of glee Erik raced forward to grab the broom from his father, his blue eyes alight in joy as he nearly tripped over untied shoelaces. Regaining his composure, however, he swung an incredibly tiny, slightly chubby leg over the broom, kicking off and howling joyously, and probably to the misfortune of his dad, shrilly. The little boy was totally ecstatic as he accelerated around the home at a fast pace, not even able to become accustomed to his surroundings as he zoomed through doors quickly, quite far away from his father.

 

[Tristan Drage]

Tristan was too caught up in his thoughts to react quickly enough to Erik's incredibly fast departure from the room, bellowing, "SLOWER, ERIK!" and trudging into the sitting room, worried for his son's safety. If he had been outside he would have no problem with Erik's speed, but in the house there were things to run into; hard things, big things, possibly sharp things. The likeliness of a quick injury was all too prevalent as he attempted to catch up with his son, cursing the fact that he did not exercise much and that old age was beginning to creep upon him in the form of shortened breath and pulled muscles. He could only navigate by the boy's jubilant laughter, hoping to Merlin that he had not ventured up the stairs.

 

[Julie Bennett-Drage]

Julie realized that new neighbors had moved into the other half of the duplex. Being the curious sort, she took a plate of cookies and headed over to find out what she could. She didn't see too much of them moving in, but had heard a kid's voice through the wall, so she assumed there was a family there. Her daughter would be thrilled if there was someone in her age range to play with. Liza was now approaching 4 and a half, and was lacking in playmates in the neighborhood. She made her way across the porch, and rang the doorbell, stepping back to wait for someone to answer.

 

[Erik Drage]

Erik squealed shrilly as he sped away from his father's voice, thinking it to be a game of tag. Quite clumsily and awkwardly he soared up the stairs, nearly running into the railing and speeding into another room. At two and a half his manipulative skills were not so great, and in an indecisive rush he turned into another room. However, he turned the wrong way, clipping the door. In less than a second he had tumbled off of his broom, falling onto the floor. His giggling ceased as his face turned white with shock. Eyes filling with tears he started to bawl loudly. Whenever he got hurt his mother was always there to cuddle and soothe him.

 

[Tristan Drage]

"ERIK!" Tristan's voice was booming in volume as he called for his son. Without supervision his son could be seriously hurt on a broom. He attempted to follow the sound of the boy's happy shrieks, his brow furrowing in worry as he heard them cease. All of a sudden, the doorbell rang, and he could hear Erik's woeful bawls from upstairs. Cursing loudly he knew that he had to attend to Erik first, his trunklike legs thunking against the stairs as he ascended them, finding Erik in an empty room.

Sweeping the boy up in his large arms, seeing that Erik had a cut on his forehead, he held the boy. It seemed that it was more than just a small cut. This was exactly why Morgase hadn't wanted Erik to be flying; he imagined that it would be even worse under her supervision. "Shh, it's okay," he stated, attempting to soothe his son.

 

[Erik Drage]

Erik's bottom lip quivered, his face a mess of tears and snot. "Ouch, Daddy," he whimpered, bringing his hand to his head. His head was throbbing in pain, comforted by his father's voice despite the fact that he was used to his mother. His broom was temporarily forgotten, adding, "Mummy."

 

[Tristan Drage]

Tristan frowned as he looked to Erik, pulling his wand out. "Mummy's not here," he stated, "Daddy's here."

His expression somber he turned out of the room with Erik in his arms, moving down the stairs quickly. His son had stilled considerably. "Don't move, Erik," he commanded, glad that his son complied. Pointing his wand at his son's head he cast a spell to fix the cut, wiping away any traces of blood and leaving only a little scar. Placing Erik back on the ground he moved to the door, stating, "We have company, Erik."

Opening the door, he was glad that the person was still there. She was a woman, and a pretty one too, holding a plate of cookies.

"Hello," Tristan greeted, wondering which one of his neighbors this was. He wasn't sure what else to say, seeing as he had never really interacted much with muggle neighbors.

 

[Erik Drage]

Erik had ceased his bawling. He moved his hand to his face, finding that there was no longer throbbing pain in his little noggin. His face was still covered with snot and tears as he scuttled to the door with his father, attaching himself to his father's leg. "HI!" he yelled out excitedly to the woman, his eyes brightening as he viewed the sweets upon the plate she carried. "Cookies!"

 

[Julie Bennett-Drage]

Julie was shocked at the size of the man that opened the door. "Hi! I am your neighbor --" she spoke before she was interrupted by the small child that started to yell for the cookies. She chuckled as she continued to speak with a smile, "I'm Julie. I live on the other side of the duplex with my daughter, Liza. Welcome to the neighborhood!" She offered the plate of cookies to the large man standing inside the doorway, and then smiled down at the little boy.

 

[Tristan Drage]

"Be patient, Erik," Tristan stated calmly, as he looked down at the woman. She appeared both familiar and unfamiliar to him at the same time; he could not place a finger on why. Giving her a thin smile he replied, "Why, thank you- my name is Tr- Ethan. And this here is Erik." He hoped that his blind eye did not appear too disgusting to this woman; he had not confronted many people since he had lost the actual eye.

Taking the plate of cookies, he stood there, wondering if it would be prudent to invite her in or not. "How old is your daughter? This little one's going to be three in April." He wondered if she would detect his accent; he was attempting to water it down with forced American but was doing a rather bad job of it, the blend of British and Norwegian ever present.

 

[Julie Bennett-Drage]

Julie smiled at the little boy attached to the man's leg. "Well, it is very nice to meet you Erik. Do you want to take these?" She held the plate out towards him. "My daughter is just about 4 and a half. We have a swingset out in the back yard that you can come over and play with Liza on sometime if your Daddy is okay with that." She looked up at the man that introduced himself as Ethan. "Ethan, is it? When did you move in? You two can't have been here too long." She smiled, looking at the face that was new to her. She noticed that his eye seemed to be cloudy, a bit of scarring around the outside of it. I wonder what happened there. Hmm. May have to ask if I get to know him pretty well. She looked at him with a soft look on her face. "What brings you to Appleton?"

 

[Erik Drage]

Erik clung to his Dad's leg shyly now, grinning broadly at the woman, his blue eyes wide. "Cookies," he repeated quietly, moving forward and tearing at the plastic wrap to grab a chocolate chip one. His mind was glued only to the sweet, squealing shrilly as he scuttled off with it, planting his little bum on the lone love seat and gobbling it up with glee.

 

[Tristan Drage]

Tristan shook his head, grinning broadly at Julie. "I think it would be best for me to watch his sugar intake; otherwise he's going to be on a rush and I won't be able to get him to sleep tonight." He waved his arm, stating, "If you want to come in you can, although I'm afraid everything's quite a mess." He moved inside a bit to let her through, taking the plate of cookies gratefully. "Thank you very much, again. And I think that Erik would rather like a playmate; where he lived last I don't believe he associated with other children much."

He strolled to the kitchen and placed the cookies on the counter, pushing them to the back where Erik could not get to them. At least, not without a struggle. "No, we haven't been here long at all. Just moved in two days ago actually."

He noticed a box that contained magical books, and trying not to raise any question he placed another over it, hoping that Julie had not seen. "Oh, I didn't really properly introduce myself. Ethan Mallard." He held out a large hand, wondering if she would shake it. He had figured that since he was attempting to cover up his past life he would try to be as friendly as possible to his muggle neighbors. That was the first step of erasing his past; making an identity that was unlike his. The past Tristan would have not given a muggle the time of day, unless it was in a circumstance that suited him.

"Would you like anything to drink?" He hoped that he seemed to be behaving quite gentlemanly.

 

[Julie Bennett-Drage]

Julie laughed as the little boy took the cookie and ran away to eat it happily. She handed the plate to Ethan as she entered the mirror image to her side of the duplex. There were a few boxes around, and a scattering of furniture, but not much was unpacked as of yet. As she looked around, she noticed that Ethan covered up a box with another. Odd. Must be pictures of someone he doesn't want me to see. Or underwear. Why am I thinking of his underwear? My goodness! she thought, shaking her head just a bit to try to clear out the thoughts that lingered there unwanted. As he introduced himself, she shook his hand, speaking before they released. "Julie Bennett. And sure, I would love something to drink. What are you having?" she asked, not sure what he would be offering up. "So is it just the two of you then or is your wife joining you?" She thought the man was attractive, but figured that with a child so young, there was probably a significant other involved.

 

[Tristan Drage]

A smile played about Tristan's lips as he looked to Julie, moving behind the counters to peer with his one good eye into the living room. Erik was sitting on the couch, and the boy grinned at him, his face a mess of chocolate and crumbs. Shaking his head, he looked back to the woman. She was rather attractive, although he knew that he would have to stay out of any relationships for the time being. He had messed up with Thorine, and he didn't want to acknowledge any more personal failure.

He was quite glad that he had not yet had anything to drink, as he would have most surely spat it all over the place and most likely on his new neighbor. The surname that had slipped past her lips had startled him immensely. Both of his eyes widened although it was most recognizable in his good eye, the blue one. He could not say that he was not frightened at that moment, wondering what he had gotten himself into. Attempting to hide his surprise he turned away from Julie, hacking forcefully into his sleeve.

"Dust," he muttered to the woman, giving her a crooked smile. He smiled back at her, attempting to rationalize. Bennett had to be a fairly popular name; heck, Estrella's mother probably had no relation to this woman whatsoever. He was worrying himself over nothing. He was glad that he had given her an alias, however, just to be safe. A looming foreboding hung in the back of his mind; he thought he had gotten rid of Lorelai forever. His daughter was the only thing that remained, and it seemed he was even cut off from her.

He forced a grin as he moved to the fridge, frowning as he looked at the sparse amount of food and drink he had in there. "It's pretty much just milk or water, whichever you like." His Adam's apple bobbed in embarrassment as he inquired, "Which way is the nearest grocery store?" He would have to go into town and look for a job one of these days anyway.

As he rummaged in a box for some glasses, he stated incredulously, "Wife?" he looked back at her in a daze, never having actually been married to anyone. But Morgase was the closest he had ever gotten. After the awkward pause, he added, "She passed recently," and occupied himself with rummaging once more, figuring that Julie would probably not press any further about it. No, he had never had a wife. But every woman he had gotten somewhat close to was dead. Lorelai killed in an accident, and Lissandra and Morgase both murdered.

 

[Julie Bennett-Drage]

Julie noticed that he seemed a bit startled at her last name. She raised her eyebrow a bit, then chuckled as he covered with a line about dust. She pretended to not notice what had happened just then, and moved on to what beverage she would like. "Water is fine. There are a few grocery stores around here, but of course none right by our homes. I can print you out directions on my computer if you wish so you can drive there easily. Or if you are not familiar with the area, I can show you. Liza and I will be going tomorrow. You are more than welcome to tag along. Our car is large enough to carry us all, as long as you bring the car seat for Erik."

She smiled, then her face softened as Ethan mentioned that his wife had passed on. "I am so sorry. How long? Sadly I can understand. Liza's dad became sick when I was pregnant with her and passed away shortly after she was born. The single parent thing is not fun by any means." She stared off wistfully, thinking of her beloved husband. "Especially when you were not planning on doing it." A sad look took over Julie's face as she tried not to break down in front of this basic stranger. She was strong most of the time, but was not always able to control her emotions when it came to talking about her late husband. As her eyes began to water, she covered up with the same excuse he had just given her. "Wow. It is a bit dusty in here," she said with a chuckle, "my contacts are reacting to it. Do you have a tissue?"