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Oleander.
Orym’s mind skittered to a halt when he heard the name, swimming with unbidden images of a blurry face he hardly cared to remember. A tall silhouette that had walked out on his Ma without ever looking back. The man who sired him - but not the one he called dad.
Shaking his head, he returned back to himself and back to Fearne’s tales of her parents - their traveling the spanse of Exandria, sending postcards and letters. Flighty and eccentric, so much like his faun friend.
Coincidence, surely. Oleander was simply a common name in the Feywild.
He willfully shoved thoughts of that man aside, just like he’d always done - ignoring the errant whisper that echoed across his subconscious. “Of course she’s alone. He always leaves, doesn’t he?”
He doesn’t think on it again until much later. He’d been sizing up Dusk when they pulled out a locket bearing the visages of Fearne’s erstwhile parents. Fearne clutched it close and he had trouble getting a good look, especially from his low vantage point, but if he squinted he could almost trick himself into thinking the picture on the left was familiar.
Then again, it’d been so long. He was probably recalling the details wrong. His mind worried over the thought a little longer this time before ultimately pushing it away again. There was so much to do and he was being childish.
The thought stayed buried until the second time they headed to Imahara Joe’s to check on the progress of the Crawlers. Orym and Chetney had taken point on checking out the actual vehicles while the rest of the group browsed the shop, FCG looking for any hint of Aeormaton tech. Orym registered the sound of the door opening but other customers had come and gone during their visit. He paid it no mind until he heard Fearne cry out.
“Mama! Papa!”
Turning to the sound, he registered two things at once. Firstly, his own eyes reflected in a long elven face and Fearne embracing the man he had known as Oleander Tarrintel.
It was the second fact, however, that took the situation from complicated to desperate. Dusk rushing up behind Oleander, a triumphant smirk on their face and rapier unsheathed. If their aim was true and the strike was strong enough, the blade would pierce both Oleander and Fearne.
Without thinking, Orym vaulted over - ready to put himself in danger to save Fearne. And her father. His father? Their father.