"You what?!"
December's hand slams against the glass desk of his mother's office, the glass nearly cracking under the force of his anger. It's a cool sensation, the materiel soothing under his burning palms. His rigid hands crash against the smooth surface one more time to demand the attention of the woman ahead of him who sits frustratingly still.
"What. Did. You. Do?" It's an animalistic snarl as his vision bleeds scarlet, body hunched over and so tense his muscles ache for any hint of release. He bends forward over the near shattering glass, the second layer of the material faceted and crippled under his white-knuckled grip.
The woman dry swallows, her posture too rigid to be natural. "What was necessary."
"Necessary? Necessary?" He laughs, a short noise forced out of his throat. The word itself tasting of a bitter poison he only wishes he could pour into her throat. "I decide what is necessary in this facility. Do you know why?"
There's no answer.
"Answer me!"
This time the woman jumps when his balled fist falls upon the table. The entire piece crumbling as red stains linger on its surface. Bits of glass stick to his rough skin as he bites his lip with more anger than pain.
"I put you in charge, December, don't test me now." She threatens though the effect is lost in translation, the words burning out before reaching the boy ahead of her.
"You do not undermine my authority. If I promised my cousin," Jenn flinches at the word. "that I would hold off on surgery then I, and everyone in this facility, will abide by my word no matter how much they hate it. You, Mother, are just as much under my authority as everyone else in this facility."
Only now does he feel the pain in his hand, spare droplets of blood marking the table as his hand throbs in response to the sight. There is no sound in the room, just his mother's faltered breaths as she attempts, and fails, to compose herself. Her face is a mess, red lips puckered as they try to ease their quivering, her eyes staring through her son and into the wall, the orbs wide and brown and distant.
"He's just like your father." She whispers, eyes locking into her son's in one swift movement. The brown is swirled with a pain, December's reflection staring back at him in the watery abyss, a distorted sense of self flowing through him at the mirrored world within her. "He'll always love those creatures and he'll always want to save each and every last one of them. You know why your father left?" She quizzes, a newfound strength drawing into her. "Because he wasn't strong enough to do what was necessary."
She dry swallows once more but her lost words catch at her throat, a few tears overflowing as that small vision of December disappears, trailing down her cheek before she hastily wipes it away. Her body slouches, a new side of her many faceted angles coming to life before him.
"I don't care why Dad left." It comes out harsher than intended, mother and son both drawing back from one another as his poison floods the room, bringing in a supernatural chill with it. "What I care about is not losing my one connection to him. Yet, you can't help but dig yourself in between us at any chance that you get."
It's his turn to break, to mimic the bloody glass beneath him as his lips falter and voice cracks before silence overcomes him, the thought of losing that annoying little boy somehow world shattering at its smallest. His chest hiccups, mind a scattered catastrophe as it scrambles to form his next argument before completely falling apart. The mere idea of not being with Ryder, of losing his trust or losing him altogether overshadowing any anger for his mother.
"You can hate him all that you want but you're not allowed to ruin what I have with him. I know..." his memories flicker, the image of Ryder and Wren's bodies intertwined, the sporadic tears of the creature mixed with the coos of his cousin blinding his vision. "That there must be a reason for his actions that he isn't telling us. But he's family, and family doesn't need an explanation."
Jenn can no longer sit in silence, her fingers intertwined in her lap as she bites at her quick-flicking tongue, holding back any regrettable words she might let past her muzzle. "He will be the end of Haven." She whispers, head downcast and body rigid, waiting for her son to speak down to her. "You forget," she sighs as her eyes trace the river-like fractures in the table ahead of her to avoid his burning gaze. "Judas was once a disciple."
December laughs, his entire body shifting with each shoulder raising cough that escapes his tight pressed throat. The sound comes from somewhere foreign, too deep to be from his own body as he wipes his bloody hand across his brow, removing a stray brown hair that lingered there. "And Lucifer was once an angel, don't make yourself sound so innocent when you're not."
The stillness in the air coagulates, both parties gasping for air in the rotting thickness.
"This is God's Work through God's Creation, have you forgotten that?" Haven's motto is drawn out slow, as if the words must be poured off her tongue with the thickness of honey and syrup. Yet a kick of spice follows each syllable, her threats not yet ready to back down and submit to the boy she brought into this world.
"This started as us wanting to help this world! We wanted to end all of the death and destruction that was happening outside of these doors!" December cries, hand somehow finding itself back into the pile of shattered glass below him though he doesn't care, he just needs something, anything, to support him so his body doesn't collapse before her. "Yet somehow you took His word and you twisted it like you do with everything else, Mother. And you turned this into helping yourself. How many years has it been!? And what have we accomplished other than the death and destruction we sought out to prevent?"
Jenn pushes herself out of her chair, body slightly trembling as she locks her fingers around December's forearm. The cotton-like material of his old lab coat rough against the sensitive flesh of her palms. She can barely see, vision blurred by anger and red hot tears that stain her face, pulling the skin taut beneath them.
Jenn pulls at the fraying cloth and forces him away from the destruction he has caused, silently dragging him through those white halls until they arrive where it started. They stare into the door of the delivery room as she unlocks the cursed door, dragging him further into the room.
They travel past abandoned trucks and empty cages, a heavy scent of metal clinging to the walls of the area as she pushes forward without a word. Her grip only tightens on the boy's coat as he follows her to the back of the room, past two more metal cages at least three feet tall and a few feet wide, thankfully seeming unused.
"Do you see this door?" She chokes out, letting go of his sleeve with a malicious jerk.
He glances past her, the door like any other that resides within Haven, pure silver metal with a small keypad, the standard formula it seems.
"Yeah?"
Within four numbers the gears within it creak, December flinching slightly at the sound. It's obvious the door hasn't been opened in years, the metal gears crashing against one another with an excruciating grind. He presses a palm to his ear as the slow screech continues until breaking to a halt in seconds.
The woman merely pushes at the metal, the door swinging open with a struggle as its rusty hinges plead to be abandoned for good, the metal not used to anyone stopping by, nonetheless putting it to use.
December's eyes widen as he follows the woman two steps across the metal threshold, his boots sinking into an unknown material. This is the Earth. Somehow he never knew what it looked like outside of a journal's illustration, the air so much thinner here than two steps back, each cold slice piercing his lungs until his breaths burn. But he refuses to back down, instead, taking two steps further until his mother's hand presses against his chest, pushing the rough material of his old coat into his chest and scratching the skin slightly.
The grass is so green. A deep emerald hue that washes over the land and strikes against the soft gray of the sky, a small gleam cast over the wet grass that could only be from last night's rain. The scent of the air gives the answer away, a wet, dirty aroma attacking his nose as it turns up slightly at the unfamiliar scent.
Far in the distance lies a sight he's never seen, a lush green covering the sky supported by lines the color of his office bookshelves. He can only assume that it's the woods, the entity seeming so strange, a slight fear overcoming him at the sight of the towering trees.
Hastily, he turns to his mother, one brow cocked in confusion before turning his attention back to the outside world, the sight branding itself into his memories. "Why are you showing me this?"
"Because it was something that you needed to see. This," she gestures around her with an outstretched palm, eyes following the curve of the woods and dance of the grass. "is what we are fighting to protect, December. God made this Earth for us and it's our life's work to keep it that way."
It's his turn to falter, to struggle for the words to say as the cuspidated air bores into his chest. A sharp pain hits him as if deep enough to draw blood, his damaged hand running its length over the phantom wound. "Mom..." he's at a loss for words, body turning from the outside world and staring into the white abyss of Haven, home now a foreign word and stranger sensation. "I-I..."
"You don't have to say anything." Her small hand cusps the bottom of her son's back, face an empty slate though there's a hint of a victory in her voice, the edges of her words curving into the slightest of smirks. "But now you know why I work so hard to protect you." She coos, pulling the metal door shut behind her with a deadening slam.
December doesn't face her, the image of the outside world still burned onto oceanic eyes that compliment his mother's. Yet now they seem so different, as if both hold the same key to parallel worlds: one of peace and one of war. Tightly, he shuts his eyes, hands balling into a fist in response as the crunch of glass makes itself known in his grasp, pinpricks sprinkling the flesh as he grips tighter.
His mind can only travel back to moments ago, the image of the trees, the grey sky, the scent of the earth all too overwhelming to only last a few seconds. He needs a lifetime to process it, to understand what else is out there.
"December, people were dying because of the Sky Fall. I couldn't just sit around when I had the skills to help this race survive."
He doesn't turn to face her, or even acknowledge the sound of her voice as his mind is too far gone, lost to the presence of the unknown and to the spell of the Earth.
Slowly, his fists unball, eyes opening to the disappointing glow of the fluorescent lights, their electronic buzz filling in the gaps that his lingering breaths leave.
"Mom, I have to go." It's an imperceptible beg, face contorted into a sense of pain before he rushes out of the room, heading to the only place he knows will have the answers he desperately needs.