metem_logs | (no subject)

Characters: Triton, Poseidon, Chelsea Straka
Date/Time: Tuesday, January 3rd, 2012
Location: Poseidon's place
Rating: Probably no worse than PG
Warnings: Language, maybe?
Summary: It's Triton's 21st birthday, but his gifts are going to Poseidon.

Triton got up early on that frigid Tuesday. Of course, his mother--and even his father, back home on leave just after the holidays--were going to have something for him. He was twenty-one today. He didn't plan on staying home, though, even if he had just returned from his trip to Michigan. He kept the clue tucked safely into his pocket. He was going to present it to his father--his true father, Poseidon.

"Heading out so soon?" his mother asked, a note of dismay in her voice, after she had given her son a fine breakfast and his gifts--practical items, for the most part.

"Afraid so, Mother," Triton said, lightly kissing her cheek goodbye, "I have some things I need to take care of.

His first stop was not the Straka residence. No, he had been chastised for not bringing anything to drink with him when he had met his father for the first time. Now that he was freshly old enough to purchase alcohol, he went in search of the finest bourbon whiskey he could find. He eventually found something to his satisfaction, and hoped it would please his father. Of course, Chelsea would likely be in a snit if he didn't bring something for her too, so he picked up some of her favorite rootbeer as well, and leather-bound Russian-English dictionary. Then, with clue and gifts in hand, he proceeded to his father's place.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Chelsea had not become entirely comfortable with her life again with her father. She needed to trust him again. He'd burned her by keeping things from her and giving her no chance to have a voice. She continued with her daily rituals without much conversation.

She watched Poseidon over the top of the couch as he came home from work. Her homework was laid out on the dining room table. He changed his shirt and was buttoning the shirt cuffs when the doorbell rang. Chelsea hugged and rolled her eyes. Another date perhaps.

"Hello, Father," Triton said politely as he entered. He nodded politely to Chelsea as well. "Hello, Chelsea. Did you have a nice holiday?"

"Some old business, Father. I do apologize for the delay," he said, presenting the bottle, "I've brought you some bourbon scotch whiskey. I hope it's up to your standards."

He turned to Chelsea.
"I have something for you, too. Root beer... and a belated Christmas present, if you will."

At first Chelsea didn't respond to Triton, Poseidon's herald. Then he handed her the wrapped package and Poseidon pressed her to respond. "Thank you," she said finally ripping the paper back to see a book. Poseidon gave Triton an odd look, not aware Chelsea was interested in Russian. It made sense, but there were some things he wasn't ready for her to know. It brought back memory for her on just how important she wanted to be in her father's life. She just wasn't sure she could forgive him yet.

Poseidon gave Triton a hardy slap on the shoulder. "Twenty-one eh?"

"You're welcome, Chelsea. I hope you put it to good use," Triton said. He smiled at her for once.

When his father clapped him on the shoulder, the smile took on a faint edge of pride.
"Yes. As of today," he said, "The soonest I could possibly get it for you."

She fingered through a few pages, snapping her father a glare. "I get tired of you throwing angry temper tantrums in Russian and I haven't a clue what you're saying." They'd talk about this later because she knew he wouldn't agree.

Poseidon focused on Triton and the bottle of alcohol, which he'd already broke into with glasses ready. "Good. Now you can drink like a man." If one couldn't buy alcohol and drink it, then the point was lost.

"Thank you, Father."
Triton looked at the shot in his hand, mentally steeled himself for his first legal drink, and downed it. It burned somewhat, yes, but he got through it stoically. It wasn't bad.

He glanced over at his half-sister.
"Chelsea? Would you like to join us with your root beer?" he asked.

Chelsea slapped the book closed and snubbed her nose in the air while she traipsed over toward the bar. She hated that Triton still had something over her that she didn't. When he was there, she fought for Poseidon's attention. Even if her father had burned her.

She took a seat on the stool causing Poseidon to give a curious brow. "Threatened baby girl, or curious?" Maybe it was time to invite her into these workings as it seemed Triton and the rest were involved in this world order even he had no control of. Not entirely. Not yet.

Triton poured her a glass of the root beer, and offered it to Chelsea.
"I don't know that you're ready for this yet," he said, indicating the liquor, "Perhaps in six years."

The sea prince then reached into his pocket, fingering the parchment there.
"Also, Father... There is one other reason I'm here. I just returned from Michigan, and I found a clue on Mackinac Island. ...I believe it tells where the Trident is."

His brow perked even higher, pleased with the direction that statement was going. Chelsea too moved in, her interest peaked at this new revelation.

Poseidon hadn't seen that trident in years. It was more than just a symbol, it was a tool, it was power. It meant he was one step closer to obtaining control of this world. His lips nearly salivated over it. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, eyes on Triton. The kid was proving himself by the day. "You're quite the wolf hound aren't you? You're proving yourself very useful." There was a grin and a pinch of light in his eyes that showed more of his old self.

Triton smiled, pleased to have his father's approval.
"Thank you, Father. I thought that I would present it to you for safekeeping."

He pulled out the slip of parchment, offering it to Poseidon. On it was written:

"In the sea
Where the points are three
And mysterious power
Lends time no hour."

"It's pointing to the Bermuda Triangle. I feel certain of it," Triton said.