Thunderlight

A Challenge Given, A Challenge Received

Montgomery has been looking at himself in the mirror for the past hour, now. It's not that he's vain. If there were anything else pleasant to look at, his eyes would be there instead. But travelling is boring, so to the mirror he looks. The carriage he's in bumps along the road, the stoutland drawing the cart chuckling apologies with every little rock. It's driving him up the wall. Then again, anything could drive him mad when he's been stuck in this carriage with his family for the past few hours.

The Alcott family is not known for being silent, which is really the bane of his existence when they're all forced together like this. Their constant talking is grating on his ears. His younger sister won't stop blabbering about how many suitors she's gotten in this month alone, his older brother keeps bragging about how much wealth he's gained for the family estate this year, and his mother rambles about how nervous she is for this party they're about to attend. Mott doesn't see what her problem is with it. They're just going to the Callahan estate, something they've done just about every year to pay their respects to the dying patriarch. If anything, these events are rather somber and a little boring. This is the first year that something has actually changed, and that gives Montgomery a bit of hope that this affair will be more exciting than the rest: the Callahan patriarch finally croaked.

Maybe his nonchalant treatment of a tragic event sounds harsh, but Montgomery has known the guy his whole life, and honestly, the world is better off. Old Man Callahan was a wrinkly, grouchy, snobby old bastard. Whenever Montgomery was a kid and did something stupid, like grab an extra cookie, the crotchety serperior had to thwack his hand with a Vine Whip. It hurt like hell. So, yeah. He doesn't miss the guy.

He does, on the other hand, feel a little bad for his son, Florian. Emphasis on 'a little,' because Florian is just as snobby as a bastard as his old man. But he and Mott grew up together, so he's a little more lenient with him, and he feels sympathy for the tough situation he's in. At only twenty years old, he has to fill his father's place as the family patriarch and rise up to meet the dead guy's sky-high expectations. At twenty years old himself, Montgomery doesn't want to touch that kind of responsibility with a ten foot pole. He'd probably just mess it up, anyhow, as his father was so kind to remind him.

His father is the only one who doesn't feel the need to chat aimlessly. Montgomery is thankful that there's at least one other sane person in this family. Turning to the elder samurott, he gestures to their family and jokes, "Crazy, aren't they?"

The Alcott patriarch does not smile. He doesn't even crack. Instead, his eyes narrow down at Montgomery. That stare hits like a slap in the face, and he quickly looks at his hands to avoid being actually slapped.

"Montgomery," his father addresses, stern and unimpressed. The carriage quiets down. They've had it ingrained in them to stop talking when their father speaks, unless they want to suffer his temper. "I expect you not to make a fool of yourself tonight."

He bites back a sigh. "Yes, father."

"I will not have you embarrass us here like you so often do," he snips, looking out the window as if looking at Montgomery is simply too taxing for him. "This is an important celebration. Florian Callahan is ascending to become the patriarch of his own family. You're both the same age, yet he has accomplished so much more than you."

Part of him has always hated Florian, ever since they were kids, for that very reason. Florian is like the son his father wishes he had. "I apologize, father."

"Perhaps try and learn from him tonight. If that is too much for you to handle, just be quiet and don't speak unless spoken to." Every word his father says has an extra weight to it. No one else's words seem to hit him so heavily. Perhaps that's because his father is the only one of their family who's fully evolved, a great indicator of both power and social status. Montgomery looks down at his own hands, the useless hands of a mere dewott, and scowls. "Just do us all a favor and refrain from being yourself tonight."