Descent into madness

There was an inward cringe that he hoped didn't make it to the outside of his appearance at the voice of the woman over the intercom. The voice signaled their descent into Oasis, but it was much more foreboding than just that. The city itself was beautiful if not a little archaic in some of the ideals and beliefs, and he was normally quite eager for any chance to travel.

However, this visit was one he'd been dreading since their mother informed them that they would be going alone, or mostly alone, he stole a glance at Zan beside him, glad that at least she was here. He was usually a fairly fearless person, but the rush as they descended damn near made him panic. He didn't, Z never panicked anymore, at least not in public, but the tight feeling was still there.

The logical portion of his brain told him that his fears were ridiculous, that the man had no intention of harming either of them, but it was vastly overpowered by the irrational part of his brain that remembered that late night in their parent's bedroom, and he had to shove back a visible shudder as he swore he could still feel the sting of the man's belt.

He was not paying enough attention however to suppress a visible startle when he felt his sister tap his shoulder, turning his eyes on her, "I'm fine." He wasn't. But he couldn't let her see that, at least he was going to convince himself that she couldn't see the deeply instinctive fear in his eyes. All the other times that they'd made this trip with their mother he'd felt safe, backed up by her, emboldened by her presence.

It wasn't that he didn't feel safe with Zan, it was more that he didn't feel like she was safe, and on top of feeling unsafe himself. He only hoped she wasn't observant enough to notice the slight tremble in his hands, "I can already hear him..." His words were cold and muttered in response to her statement about keeping him waiting. She was right of course, and it really didn't help to still his nerves.

Her words did little to lay rest to his anxious demeanor, which he hated, because usually she could talk him down from just about any state of mind. But he was hyper-focused now, and only gave the ghost of a weak smile when she mentioned the tickets, "free in cost. But not in sanity." He mumbled, trying his damnedest to lighten his own mood, anything to get rid of this oppressive feeling pressing in on the sides of his head.

He looked to the side, and then at the few people who turned to glance at them at he exclamation, finding it in himself to chuckle softly at her words, "five days is a bit much." Despite his laughter, his tone was still decidedly clipped and on edge, and seeing her fixing herself up, he began to straighten his own appearance, running through everything the man could possibly complain about as he glanced over himself, and then her. Usually he didn't care how she dressed or looked, but this was different, and he didn't want her to catch anything from him.

He rolled his eyes and nodded along with her mocking tone, "he'll find something. He always finds something." The man may have been trying to turn a new leaf, but he still knew every button and trauma to play on to make him, both of them, squirm. He was only glad that his sister was not kowtowed as he was, seeing her cower and cringe away would break him, "Mmm yes. He is one to talk about parenting." There was a deep hurt in those words, he might of been able to stand up to the man by now, he could stand up to anyone else.

He glanced to the side when Zan took his hand and couldn't help a more genuine smile, squeezing it back. He always enjoyed seeing her like this, he wasn't entirely fond of the flying aspect of travel himself, but seeing the thrill on her face that blotted out every other concern in the moment made his own nerves worth it.

It took about twenty minutes before they were given the okay to disembark, and when they were off of the plane, he turned to Zen and wordlessly began to fidget with her clothes, her hair, with the same stony expression back on his face. He wasn't going to give that man any reason to pick at his sister, "okay." He pulled back, instinctively taking her hand as they headed to find the man.

When he actually saw the man's face, Z felt his heart stop for a few good seconds. It was always like this, there was always that sudden weight that caused him to put a little resistance against his sister's hand, which he was clutching tighter as much for his own sake as her's. In fact, he was sure it was almost entirely for his own sake, Zan was brave, she wasn't afraid of this man, but he could feel the subtle tug from her as they made their way over to him, looking down into her reassuring eyes and wishing more than anything that he could feel the comfort from them.

When the man leaned in to hug him, he couldn't help a physical reaction, flinching a little in his grip and feeling horribly trapped by it for the duration. Every word that dripped from this man's mouth was like cyanide laced with honey for flavor as he spoke, and Z had to resist the physical urge to wretch as he have a terse and clipped greeting, "hello." He hated this, he was always so good at keeping his emotions in check, always so calm and collected, yet here he was barely hanging onto himself as he was forced to look into the eyes of the only man he feared.

He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end at the exchange between his sister and the man, feeling a familiar bristling and squeezing her hand, "She looks fine." His tone was forceful, but not as much so as he could be, eyes cold up until the point where he mentioned getting him a belt, and all the color seemed to drain from him as he was visibly staggered for a moment, anyone looking close enough would catch the shine in his eyes and the way his breathing picked up. He didn't know if it had been said on purpose, though he was inclined to think so, but the sick, panicky feeling that it left him with was enough to halt him and cause him to suddenly withdraw, ducking his head lower as he allowed his sister to tug him along.

He didn't look at her as she spoke, but answered in a flat voice, "you look fine." He repeated the sentiment, his grip on her hand still tight to keep the slight tremble from being as noticeable.

He had to bite back a cold retort when the man dared snap at his sister, instead resting his icy gaze on him. He was afraid, but there were still times, even now, where his protective nature reared up and gave him a burst of courage, especially when Zan sacrificed her own comfort for his sake to sit beside him. There was a single moment of emboldened anger when he heard him utter yet another jab at their mother, and for a moment Z surfaced and cast a glare at him, "Don't talk about mom that way." He regretted the words as soon as he uttered them, and turned his eyes away submissively, gaze still hard as stone.

He wanted to retort to his next words as well, and almost did, there were a million different possible words he could have said, but not a single one would result in anything but trouble, so he kept quiet, sitting with his hands clasped together and his jaw set hard as he glared at the floor.

"Mom taught us fine." Better than you. He almost added that, but again held his tongue, refusing to even try and put on an act. Z had never been the best at putting on fake faces, a blessing and a curse, when he felt something it was usually earnest, and he was not about to give this man the satisfaction of placating smiles. He knew by the end of these 5 days the stress would have worn him down to the bone, but he would deal with it, he would be as strong as he could for Zan's sake, just like she was being strong for him right now.

He glanced vaguely out the window, but made no comment on the gardens. It was a shame, because he did enjoy the sight of them, but it was soured by the situation, and looking out the window was more a means to keep him from glaring hard at the man than anything. If only looks could kill, he mused darkly to himself.

The man's challenging question turned Z's eyes towards the floor, it was insulting, as if he didn't remember, or maybe he didn't, as drunk as he was that night. And maybe, he mused, he supposed that he should have gotten over it by now, whatever the intent behind the words, they were insulting, and Z had to suppress the visible bristle, "Jet lag." He muttered. Looking up between them, "that's all." His tone was still clipped, but he tried to make his words more pleasant for Zan's sake. He could do this, he had to do this.

He looked up at the man, only holding his eyes for a few moments before looking to the side, he could never hold his gaze for long, and he supposed he probably didn't want him to anyway. He glanced over at his sister, catching her beseeching eyes, and letting out a heavy sigh, for her, hold your tongue for her. He reminded himself of this, but it was getting hard not to say what was on his mind, he was usually good at holding his tongue around this man, but he was starting to feel the urge to bite.

At Zan's suggestion that she go alone with the man, he nearly stood up and his answer was abrupt and hostile, "NO! Absolutely not!" He looked between them and sat back down, "I can go." He threw a decidedly hostile look at the man, "mom taught us not to lay down and take shit." He snapped, "she taught us to be people, not dolls." He felt a sinking dread as soon as the words left his mouth, and he had to make a concentrated effort not to let the horror show on his face.