Visiting father (Frederico et all) - Frederico's Haven

He looked at him. His voice soft. He was a good son but the man was asking so much of him.

"Why father? Why do you need me to leave her?"

HE frowned at that one but calmed his face and looked back up into the eyes of his Sire. He leaned against his leg, the outer thigh, as his brown eyes found his Sires.

"When have I lied to you father?"

He shook his head.

"Not to me. To yourself. No one believes that this little fling with the Sheriff will last much longer. The only one who refuses to see it is you."

He leaned against that leg and pulled up his own to his chest, thinking.

"All my claims, you mean my love for her father? You say she has changed me. How has she changed me other than the fact I only physically dabble with her?"

He tilted his head.

"That is the only difference you see in yourself? Truly?"

He shook his head.

"I see several differences. What I was trying to find out is what differences you see."

He blushed. Oh, he didn't spend the blood and no color went up his face, but it was there. How could this man turn him back into that 23 year old sheltered island boy with a single sentence? He had no idea, but Frederico did it easily.

He pulled out his leather case and took out a creamy tan cigar and handed it to the man. It was well constructed but the smell, even unlit.. was nothing greater than one would expect from a mid priced cigar from a cigar shop.

Estaban looked.. ashamed.

"It.. was unworthy of you."

He took the cigar from Estaban, lifting it to his nose for a moment. Then tossed it aside.

"It is."

It wasn't a question. He just stared at his son, shaking his head.

"If she inspires you so much, where is your creation? Where is that art for which your blood helps you to create? Inspiration." He said it with a sneer. "More like distraction."

He still look ashamed as the man tossed it away.

"No, I think it is other things. I was with her two months before I created my last cigar. And those were some of the best I have ever made(6 success). The problem is that was over a year ago and this is the only thing I have created since then. No.. I am not happy. But this is not her fault."

His brow lifted.

"Not. Her. Fault. You are right. It is not her fault. It is yours."

He looked at the man and then looked down.

"I know. But I meant it has nothing to do with her. She does inspire me. She has.. expanded my artistic horizons."

His brow arched, his voice coming just a little more cold with each word.

"Oh? Do tell."

He looked into those eyes.

"I m sorry father.. I can see I have upset you again. I did not mean to."

His head went down, looking at the ground.

"It upsets me more when you refuse to answer my questions," he said, a rather annoyed tone to his voice.

"Yes father. I have been learning swordsmanship and the catas of such. I have been told I am already at a level of ability that would make me a master swordsman in most circles. I have also been told it is.. quite beautiful."

He waved a hand.

"The sword is for those much less civilized than we."

He nodded.

"It is, when it is a weapon. But I have been shown it is something more. It can be a dancing partner, one you can control like no other and as beautiful as any. It flashes and dances, both beauty and danger and sex appeal..."

His voice went down. He knew his fathers opinion of the martial abilities.

His voice became smaller.

"yes father."

He sat there for a moment, waiting.

"Anything else?"

He thought for a moment.

"My sketching skills are getting better as well as my dancing, from working with Jazz. I can do Kata's barehanded as well... but I know how you feel about the martial arts."

He pointed at his son.

"Due to Jazz."

Really, Estaban was making his own argument for him.

"You mean getting better at the art? Yes. I am not sure what that means though. Rai'dah is not keeping me from creating. I am unhappy with my efforts this last time. So what.. I should leave her. What then father."