There is a promise of death in the glare Den sends Eilon's way, and in this moment Den is ninety percent sure that's absolutely willing to carry it out.

He's glad when Eilon disappears. He doesn't really want to kill his best friend. Especially in front of his son.

His son who now thinks he's a grumpy old drunk, thanks to Eilon's meddling. Den is going to kill him.

And the worst part is that the blasted idiot probably did it on purpose.

Den sighs and takes a long drink from his bottle. The liquor burns all the way down, but Den knows it won't do anything. He'd need a hundred--more--bottles of vodka to even scratch the surface of feeling buzzed.

Which is good, because he really needs a clear head.

Not that he has one. What is clarity?

He doesn't know.

"Sorry about him," he says, clearing his throat. "He's an idiot."

From the corner of his eye, Den sees Ri--his son, holy stars, his son is sitting right there--nod once. Long pale blonde hair bounces a bit as he does.

Den doesn't know what to make of him. He's... tall. He's tall, Den thinks. Not as tall as Den is, but he's still tall.

His eyes are interesting. Den doesn't recall ever seeing eyes like that before--at once violet and amber, a strange mixture of the colors that isn't either one and is both at the same time.

Stars, Den has no idea what to say.

It's not as if this is just his son, either.

He's the first gods-Fae Den has seen in... a hundred thousand years. Even if he's only a halfling. It's taken until now for Den to realize... this means he's not alone anymore.

He doesn't know what to make of that, either.

Den notices that Ri isn't drinking from the bottle. He mentally curses himself.

"Vodka not your thing?" He asks, and he really has no idea how his voice comes out so even. He doesn't feel even.

"No, vodka's fine..." Ri takes a sip as if to prove it, and Den curses himself because now he's forcing alcohol on his son.

He's already a terrible father.

Stars, he's a father.

A father.

Den clears his throat and nods once. "Good."

Good? Why has he suddenly lost the ability to make conversation?

Ri takes another drink, this one longer. Den is turning his son into an alcoholic. Fantastic.

After another moment, Ri puts down his bottle and curses under his breath, so low that no one else would hear it. Which reminds Den that Ri heard him earlier. But his sound ability isn't hereditary...

"So..." Ri says, and Den pauses in the drink he was about to take. "I have no idea what to say... I thought I would, since I have been waiting for this day for ten thousand years... but... yeah... I'm..." he sighs. And curses himself again.

Den sets his own bottle down with a thud. "Welcome to my world. Except I only found out about you a couple days ago. If that."

Ri just nods again.

And there's the end of that conversation. Den hates himself.

This would be easier if he could just get the boy drunk. That always works and questions become much less awkward.

Except with Eilon, but Den isn't thinking about him right now.

And he can't get his own son drunk. There's something wrong with that. Den is sure there's something wrong with that.

Den sighs. "Would you like to go somewhere?" He asks, not sure where he's going with it but once the words are out...

Stars. It's been four hundred thousand years since Den felt this awkward.

In fact, Den doesn't remember ever feeling this awkward. He lost the ability to feel awkward when Flira died.

Or so he thought.

"Sure...?" Ri says, a little tentatively. At least the kid is feeling as awkward as Den. That makes it marginally better--even if it isn't helping with conversation.

Den nods once and twin silver-amber portals open beneath them. The bartender--who is rather used to Den after all his years of coming to this little inn, which makes the best apple pie anywhere and which Den didn't even bother to get this time around--doesn't even blink as Den and Ri disappear.

The portals deposit them on a grassy riverbank, surrounded by a gorgeous vista of snowcapped mountains, tall evergreens, and in the distance two massive waterfalls which drop onto a series of small falls until they pass through a network of tiny grassy islands across the wide crystal river. It's a scene Den knows well, and he feels slightly more comfortable--if worried that Ri won't like it.

Blast, he's feeling insecure.

Den does not feel insecure.

Ri looks around with what Den hopes is a pleasantly curious expression, and Den looks out over the river and the falls, hoping the sight will calm him. He breathes in the air--crisp and ever so slightly chill despite it being spring, and just after sunrise--and smiles at the familiar scents.

Calm. Calm. He's always calm, so why has it deserted him now?

"This was my aunt's favorite place," Den says, and doesn't know why he does. Why is he talking about a woman who has been dead for four hundred thousand years? "She had a temple just there," he nods toward the falls. "Between the falls."

"It's beautiful," Ri says, offering Den a smile. Den smiles back.

Good. Okay, talking is good.

Dead people are good.

Excellent.

"Do you have a favorite place?" Den asks, unsure if it's okay for him to ask--or if Ri even wants to tell him. What if Ri doesn't want a father? Not that Den can really be his father, anyway, with the distance and time forced between them.

He's a grown man, he doesn't need a father.

And Den is absolutely awful at making friends.

"I've been to a few worlds..." Ri says. "There was one, it didn't have a lot of development and was very rural. I like visiting that one. There's also the gardens at the palace, which I find peaceful. I help keep them in shape with my aunt."

Gardens. Den likes gardens.

Not that he knows the first thing about them other than that they're pretty. He knows a few very pretty gardens.

But just because Ri likes gardens doesn't mean he wants to go to some random garden right now.

"You like... plants?" Den almost smacks himself.

Ri shrugs. "I tend to flowers mostly. Which my aunt likes to crush when she's feeling frustrated." There's a smirk on the boy's face, and Den hears himself laugh a little.

"Which aunt?" He asks, curious.

"The only one that matters. Estara."

Estara is one of Eilon's sisters? Den blinks. "Estara is your aunt?"

Ri nods. "Not by blood relation."

Den nods back. That makes much more sense. Eilon never mentioned that one of his sisters was named Estara.

Den would really like to ask about the fiery redhead, but from Ri's words it's obvious that she's doing well. There's no point to asking further, and no reason for him to want to.

He's trying to get over his infatuation with her--especially because he knows that a big part of it is that she reminded him of Yesmine. And the fact that she hasn't contacted him in twelve thousand years... stings.

"She's still living there, then," he says. And curses himself. He wasn't going to ask!

"I don't know where else she would live... it's not like they would let her leave, regardless. The king considers her far too valuable to let out of his sight." Ri frowns at him, and Den sighs.

"I know."

"Yeah, she told me that you tried to buy her," Ri says wryly.

Den grins. "Is she still under the assumption that I was being an arrogant arse? Because I did try to clear that up."

"Honestly? I have no idea what her opinion of you is... neither she or my mother speak much about that whole situation when I'm around."

Den nods. He supposes it would be awkward.

"Though, I've always sensed that there's something they aren't telling me, something I should know." Ri frowns again.

"The world is full of secrets," Den says, shrugging. "Some are there for a reason."

"Unfortunate," Ri says mournfully.

Den chuckles. "For you, or the people keeping secrets?"

Ri smirks. "I suppose for them."

Den eyes him curiously. "Do you mind if I ask..." he sighs. "I don't know what it's okay for me to ask and what it isn't."

Ri shoots him a curious look. "I don't mind. You can ask me anything..."

"It's just I..." Den waves a hand, wondering why it's so hard to articulate. "I'm not..." Den rubs his face and decides to just vomit the words out.

"I'm going to be honest with you, Ri."

"No, please lie to me," Ri mutters dryly, so low that no one else could hear him. But Den does. He rubs his face again.

The words fail him.

Ri appears to be waiting, but Den no longer knows what to say. There were words, he thinks, but they're gone now.

"Okay, so silence is the honesty then..." Ri says, and scratches his head awkwardly.

Den sighs. "For me, yes. I don't... " He shrugs. "I don't play nice easily. And I spent over three hundred thousand years without speaking. So yes... silence comes more easily to me than words." He waves a hand, not even sure why he said that. It's such pointless information, and it isn't as if the boy has asked about Den's past, so he probably doesn't want to know.

"I don't have the faintest idea what to do here, Ri," Den says, and rakes a hand through his hair, upsetting the ponytail. "I'm not... you're all grown up and I don't even know who you are. And I don't know if you... you don't need a father. And I don't know if you... want one." Den winces.

Ri just blinks at him.

Honesty... maybe not such a good idea?

"I... I don't think I would have come here if I didn't want a father... I mean, what would have been the point to that really? I just wondered about it for ten thousand years... so yeah, I can see how that might be confusing... seems like an awful lot of trouble to go through just to tell you 'sorry, not interested', don't you think?" A slight pause. "And I'm babbling. I never do that. I'm going to stop now."

"I never feel awkward," Den admits. "But I do now. I don't know how to be a father."

"Well, the hard part's already done," Ri points out, his tone a bit more cheerful as if he's trying to tease.

Den winces again.

Ri frowns. "I didn't mean it like that."

Den waves him off. "I know. I'm just... kicking myself."

Ri nods again. "If it helps, my mother made sure to get her hands on every piece of information that she could find on you...?"

Den barks out a laugh. "I bet that was confusing."

Ri shrugs.

"I suppose I can assume she only gave you the stories that make me out to be a villain," Den says wryly. "Deranged pixie." But he's grinning faintly.

"No," Ri says, looking confused, "On the contrary, actually."

Den arches a brow. "What do you know, she can be nice," he says, smirking faintly.

Ri arches a brow in return, and says nothing.

And so they stand in silence, because Den doesn't know what to say. This never happens. Den always knows what to say.

He sighs. "All right, I've had enough," he says. "This has got to stop." A snap of his fingers has a table and two chairs manifested by the water, and Den stalks over, throwing himself into one of the chairs. A bottle of Deri manifests in his hand, and he sets another on the table.

"I'm not really a grumpy drunk," Den tells him, as the boy watches warily from a few feet away. "But apparently I've lost my ability to speak, and alcohol helps. So." He pulls the cork from the bottle with his teeth and takes a long drink, one eye on Ri as he walks over and takes the other bottle.

"I can second that. My mother always likes to go on and on about how I can't stop speaking. This is a problem."

Den props his boots on the table with a wry grin. "Yes, she mentioned that. I on the other hand can't seem to start."

Ri sits in the opposite chair, and Den decides that his problem is that he's looking at the boy as his son instead of as a man. But Den doesn't know what to do with a son.

A man, he can handle.

"Apparently only when it concerns me..." Ri says, a bit tentatively.

Den says, "My father was a bastard and the only person my mother ever loved was herself. I don't know how to do this."

"I don't know any better than you do," Ri says.

"So how about we start off trying to be friends?" Den suggests. Not that he's any good at making friends, but it's a start.

"I'd like that."

Den nods. "First order of business," he grins, "we get drunk off our arses."