User blog:GamerNerd i/Discussion at Dinner, Talk on the Terrace

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It’s not often that the Recreators’ families get together. The teens’ sudden friendship shook things up between the two families, who had normally agreed to disagree in the past.

Aidan’s parents didn’t exactly like Nadia. They thought she was too hotheaded for their son. They thought she was arrogant, seeming to look down on everyone else. They thought her biting language and often sarcastic tone would get her and Aidan into trouble.

Nadia’s parents were skeptical of Aidan. They thought he was too timid to defend their daughter if the need arose. They thought he wasn’t quite right in the head, given his seemingly short attention span and the proclivity to zone out and the confusion that came with it. They thought he wasn’t the best, and their daughter needed the best if she were to go anywhere.

Of course, they weren’t exactly wrong. Nadia did indeed have a vitriolic attitude at times, and Aidan sometimes came across as paranoid.

But they weren’t right either. They didn’t see the ways that the two brought the best out of each other. They didn’t see Nadia’s looks and smooth words talk the duo out of serious trouble. They didn’t see Aidan’s calmness and firm determination take control of a dire situation. They didn’t see the charm of the beauty calm the most savage beast, or the faith of a friend negate the most paralyzing fear.

Their parents never did see these moments, and unfortunately, it’s likely that they never will. The times the families would be proudest of must be kept a closely guarded secret. Nadia’s parents will never hear their daughter’s shrewd oratory, nor will Aidan’s parents experience their son’s authoritative command. For that which happens in the Multiverse must stay in the Multiverse.

Aidan rings Nadia’s doorbell with his elbow, holding a tray of corn-on-the-cob with one hand and trying to calm an argument between his siblings with the other. His parents, also trying to calm the siblings, stand behind him. After a brief shuffling, Nadia opened the door.

“Hi, Aidan!” She says, smiling. “Hi Mr. and Mrs. D! Glad you could make it. Come in!” She moves aside and the two younger children are the first in the house, looking around at the new surroundings, without even greeting Nadia. Aidan’s parents enter hurriedly, giving her embarrassed and apologetic smiles in passing. Aidan himself enters last, followed by Nadia after she shuts the door.

“Did Lexa talk to you?” He says in a hushed tone.

“She did,” Nadia responds. “How’d you know?”

“Pix came to me,” he responds. “I figured Lexa would do the same.”

Pixol and Lexacon were their mentors, in a way. They were the ones who opened their eyes. They had given them their tools, trained them to bring fiction to reality. They were normally very laissez-faire in terms of regulating, so when they wanted a talk, it was usually a pretty heavy topic.

“We can meet them after dinner,” Nadia sighs. “Try to enjoy yourself. Don’t worry too much about it.” She knew that Aidan had trouble forgetting serious conditions. For her, burying worry was easy. “Also, why the heck did you guys bring so much food? We told you not to worry too much.”

“I warned you about this,” Aidan laughs. “It’s a cultural thing, and it’s Thanksgiving. Consider the leftovers a gift. Hello, Mr. and Mrs. O!”

There was indeed a lot of food. The banquet was more than enough to feed the two families. Two types of meat, several sources of grain, and so many vegetables that it would have been disgusting on any other day. There was plenty of fruit for the end, too, both fresh and processed. But prayers (or as Nadia’s family called them, “statements of gratitude”) had to come first.

Both families were grateful for the usual: steady income, a roof over their heads, etc. Among those lay a few silent intentions. For Aidan’s parents, it was that he was finally getting off his computer and talking to people in his free time, even if it was with an argument-prone diva. For Nadia’s parents, it was that she had finally found someone other than that stupid clique of girls who lacked any kind of refinement, even if it was with an easily-distracted geek. For the Recreators, they were just glad that they hadn’t died on the job and that nothing had slipped. Yet.

At the table, there was some of the usual tension between the Recreators’ parents. Their children’s ease made things a little different, however. Nadia and Aidan laughed often, setting a joyful mood and linking the two families through their friendship. Aidan’s younger siblings—much to their chagrin—provided further things to connect over, Nadia’s parents reminiscing about Nadia at various ages. If she heard them, she didn’t act like it.

After the dinner—and the accompanying cleanup—the Recreators sit side by side on Nadia’s porch. Inside the house, the O’s and the D’s speak to each other with relative ease, accented by the sounds of Aidan’s siblings trying out Nadia’s piano.

Two orbs of light appear beside the Recreators as they talk. One, with a distinctly blocky form, settles beside Aidan. The other, with letters of every alphabet shifting in its boundaries, settles beside Nadia.

In a moment, they grow into human forms. The blocky orb becomes a boy, a few years older than Aidan. He wore a loud Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned over a Final Fantasy tee. With sunglasses, an infectious grin, and a bottle of Mountain Dew in hand, he was either the life of the party or that douche who claims to be skilled but really isn’t.

The lettered one becomes a woman who was wizened, but not necessarily old. She had those magnetic glasses that split over the bridge that seniors wear around their neck. Her clean, collared shirt with dress jacket and a tight, shin-length skirt made her look like anyone’s fifth-grade teacher or a local librarian.

“Happy Thanksgiving, kiddos,” the boy says, leaning on a support pole. “Shame we can’t snag some of the food.” His voice is very laid-back and casual, like a careless friend.

“Pixol! Where are your manners?” the woman scolds, true to her elementary school teacher motif.

“Don’t worry about it, Lexacon,” Nadia says. She smirks. “Not like there’s much left since Aidan inhaled it all.”

“I did not,” Aidan mutters, “There’s still more than enough food. I can get some if you two want,” he offers.

“It’s cool, Guzzlord, don’t worry about it,” quips Pixol. Aidan gives him a disapproving frown.

“Anyway, what’s the occasion?” Nadia says. “You don’t often come find us, much less forewarn us about your arrival.”

“We just wanted to check in on you two,” Lexacon says. Aidan becomes nervous and starts to fiddle with his watch. “What do you mean? Have we been slacking or something?”

Pix takes a swig of Dew. “Nah, man. We ain’t checkin’ in as bosses, we’re checking in as bros. Or sisters, I guess.”

“I... Oh,” Nadia stammers. “That’s kind of you. I’m fine, personally. If nothing else, I’ve learned time management really quickly.”

“I'm... working on it, but yeah, the job is fun,” Aidan says, still fidgeting. “The hard part is keeping my mouth shut, which is normally something I’m really good at,” He stops messing with his watch for a moment to remark, “although I’m surprised that Nadia hasn’t spilled a bean yet.”

“Shut up,” Nadia responds, irritated. “You’re the one who wanted to send Rotom’s tapes to that guy to be published.”

“That’s different! Shouldn’t we be given some credit for what we do? Besides, they think it’s all made up, probably!” Aidan continues to insist, despite Nadia’s rolling eyes. The two beings look on, entertained. “Even if our families did find out about it, there are tons of Nadias and Aidans in the world! Who’s to say that it’s us, specifically?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that our bedrooms have been shown will give a hint?”

Lexa intervenes. “Now, now, you two, that’s nothing to get fired up over. While I don’t think it was very wise to put that out there, there’s no harm to it, either.”

“Gotta give credit where credit is due, amiright?” Pix nudges Aidan with an if-you-know-what-I-mean look. “Anyway, how’re your skills developing? Good?”

“Yeah, they’re fine. It’s getting easier to pull objects and simulate abilities. Sometimes, I don’t even need the View.” He lets a small whirlwind form in his hand as a demonstration. Letting it loose, a few leaves swirl around it briefly before the swirling wind dissipates.

Nadia touches a board on the porch, her hand becoming wood. “I can say the same.” Her hand returns to flesh.

“Excellent, excellent,” Lexa says. “Now, I understand that this is a sensitive topic, but I can see that you two are managing your... How do I say this? Your...” Her voice drops off. “Well, surely you understand my train of thought.” They did. And neither wanted to talk about it. They glanced at each other in hesitation but did not speak.

Pix’s grin melts into seriousness. His voice carried more gravity than before. “Look, guys, this is a serious thing. We know you don’t like talking about it with us. Heck, I think this is the first time we’re discussing it in person. But this kind of thing... You don’t just bottle it up, even if you talk to each other about it. You should know what happens to things that get corked.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” Aidan says, exhaling. “I can control the lunar aspect of it now. It’s a fight, but I won’t turn when there’s a full moon. In terms of emotional triggers and just control in general...” He takes out one of his vials. “Well, I’m still visiting Greymane, and there’s always this...”

Nadia remains silent for a little longer. Drawing her legs up near her chest and placing her elbows on her knees, she seems to curl into a ball. “I’ve never been truly scared before that... Incident.” Her voice is quiet, a stark contrast to her regular bombastic tone. “Now, it’s almost chronic.”

Aidan looks down guiltily and starts toying with his watch again.

“It’s been a few months, but I’m still defenseless during the hallucinations.” She shudders; eyes shut. “Things I would never have given a second glance paralyze me. I can’t move, not even to look away. If I do manage to look away, the presence of those... Those mirages still keep me from doing anything. It’s the most cliched thing ever, but...” Her voice drops off.

Pix and Lexa nod grimly. Aidan cautiously places his hand on Nadia’s shoulder. The Recreators’ parents start calling them from inside the house.

“That’s our cue to leave,” Lexa says quietly. “You two should go back in,” She too puts her hand on Nadia’s shoulder. “Should you need anything—either of you—you know where to find us.”

“Good luck guys. Both with life and with the missions,” Pix stands up and takes off his sunglasses, revealing a fiery pair of eyes. “Don’t forget... Have fun.”

With that, the two beings dissolve into alphabets and code. There is a brief moment of silence.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Aidan says quietly. “You know I’m willing to help however I can.”

Nadia sniffs, wiping away a tear. It was hard to tell that she was crying before that. “Please,” she says with false toughness, “You’re a werewolf. I don’t need more nightmare fuel.” Shrugging off Aidan’s hand, Nadia stands up. “Come on, let’s go back inside.”

For the rest of the night, the dynamic between the two was different. They still had festive demeanors, but it had become a facade. The conversation had soured their moods. Of course, their families didn’t see the difference. If they did, no one asked. If they did, they didn’t understand what had happened on the porch.

And unfortunately, they never would.