[[BACKPOST]]: Parental Guidance

Posted on 07 Nov 2012 @ 10:24pm by
Edited on 24 Dec 2012 @ 5:13pm

1,924 words; about a 10 minute read

I was basically too lazy to do this in Vulcan (it's seriously ages of work doing the span titles T_T lol ) but imagine it's in Vulcan. :)

ON:

[[2388: NIRAM ESTATE, MIRI'KAHR, VULCAN]]

At the ripe age of six, nearly seven, Raek was already manifesting the stubborn and tempestuous temper that his father's side was known for. Vulcans were Vulcans, but children were the same throughout the Federation.

Raek's favorite word was no. Much to Liyar's utter incomprehension.

"Go and tend to the irviyne stocks."

And so began early the battle of wills of the day.

T'Yron watched from an amused distance as Liyar struggled in his way to figuring out how to handle it. The patriarchal relationship on Vulcan was a thing of fame. Since most of childhood was typically resolved through early conflict over emotional mastery, children often felt betrayed until such a time as they could logically comprehend their parents' motives. For males in particular, it was usually compounded by indomitable, stubborn will. And in this, Liyar was no different. Unfortunately, neither was Raek.

"No."

"Your contradiction is noted. You will attend your duty."

"I do not want to."

"Nevertheless, it must be done."

"Why!" Raek growled, and kicked a large stone near to him into the opposite wall.

Liyar blinked. Emotional outbursts were not uncommon in children, but his son seemed unusually predisposed. He wondered if it was a failing, either on his own part or his son's, or if this was what every parent went through. Surely not to this extent. But Vulcan emotions, as they said. Raek's discipline was progressing normally, but he seemed to have a great volume of feeling to master. "You will calm yourself."

"I do not want to. You do it. It is your food. I do not have to eat it." Liyar could hear him growing more angry.

Liyar took a deep breath. "It is irrational to mandate that you will only do that which benefits yourself directly. You will do it because it is your duty."

"I do not care about duty," Raek shouted.

"Noted. Duty does not require your regard, only your acknowledgment. It requires understanding that you work to benefit us all. Your failure to do so indicates a reluctance to provide when necessary. If you do not learn these skills, you will be unable to utilize them in the future." It was a well thought out, reasonable argument.

Which Raek simply responded to with, "That is ridiculous. I hate you."

"I sincerely doubt this, my son." Despite the ireless tone of his deflection, Liyar appeared tenser than when the argument had began.

Raek made a noise low in his throat, before jumping at his father, lashing out with his tiny fists. "Do not mock me!" Liyar, as if braced for it, caught him and pinned his arms behind his back, lowering to the ground to avoid hurting him and restraining him calmly. Through their telepathic connection, he broadcasted calm.

T'Yron sighed, and stepped through the archway into their garden area. "You cannot remember when we were children?" she asked him, touching her fingers to his. Raek squirmed and wriggled, now mostly concerned with getting away. When Liyar was sufficiently satisfied he had calmed down, he let him go.

It seemed to be a common occurrence, to the point where he merely looked up at his wife, eyebrows drawn. "I cannot recall recalcitrance of this intensity," Liyar said. Through their bond, she felt the stirrings of exasperation irritation, and concern.

"You are recalcitrant. Not me!" Raek jumped in, crossing his arms and glaring at them.

"Kroykah." She leveled her gaze at her son stoically. "You will not disrespect your father. Go and complete your tasks. Now." She said it in emphatic mode, and T'Yron picked him up and set him on his feet in the opposite direction. Still fuming, the child stormed off.

"You cannot utilize the parental bond forever, T'Yron."

"His rage remains strong. I do not know how else to mediate between you. It is not my task to bear. You are too alike." Raek wasn't exactly unusual, but his outbursts should have been decreasing with time, not continuing. As he got older, T'Yron found herself wondering what that would mean should Raek ever lash out when he came of age. Fortunately, she saw no alarming behavior from Liyar. In fact, he appeared to do well with it, better than she could recall many other Niram families who handled similar violence from their own children. He was quick to act and shut down active aggression, never meeting it with his own.

"He needs to understand his place, not merely be forced to it," Liyar said.

"You cannot change his will to yours. You cannot manipulate him. The parental bond is the same. I did it because he was intending to provoke you. He must understand emphatically that he must not do that. In most other things, such as the stocks, he must learn in his own time," T'Yron said, sitting down next to him near a small formation of heated rocks and placing her head on his shoulder.

"I rarely have trouble with his violence, beyond the obvious issue of severely faulty control." And that was an issue, perhaps the one Liyar was most concerned about over everything else. He did not know how he could trust Raek with something like the Telan t'Kanlar or even the kahs-wan when he lashed out at the simplest thing. "It is fortunate that our relationship does not encompass what many Niram families endure."

His own father had entered an adrenaline-induced mania called the taulik resha at one point during his youth, just before his admission to the Science Academy. It was disturbing to fight for his own life at the hands of someone he usually regarded as implacable. He had sworn to himself he would not repeat that with Raek.

"And it was not a manipulation," Liyar objected, turning his head to look at her. "It was an expectation. Surely you would not advocate leniency in simplistic household tasks that any three year old should be capable of managing?"

"Raek is well capable of managing," T'Yron said reproachfully. "His contention lies in emotion, not in ability. He does not want to do it because he does not favor it. I do recognize that you are different from your father. But I cannot deny that the pattern of precedence is alarming. I will continue to watch out for him."

"As you should. And I do not favor council meetings, but kaiidth."

"You have the forbearance to comprehend the consequences of neglect, my husband. He does not. He is a child. You would hold him as responsible for his actions as an adult, and that is illogical."

It mirrored many other conversations they'd had in the past, and always, Liyar was left with the sinking impression that he was missing something critical. His own upbringing had been strict, and he could not understand why his own son would not comply.

"And yet, you did not always comply," T'Yron said, responding to his unspoken words. "He will learn, Liyar. But he will not learn when he is at a resistance with your will at all times. He is provoked by your disapproval."

"Indeed. I disapprove of laziness."

"You will both need to compromise, Liyar. It is our way."

***

Liyar was sitting cross-legged in his meditation alcove, the wooden walls reflecting the scent of incense and fire. His eyes were closed. It was his fourth hour, and he was at the fifth level. Much of his time at this point was spent resting, and acclimatizing the information he had already discerned and organized.

The door creaked open and tiny footsteps could be heard entering, spaced shortly apart. Liyar looked up, his countenance visibly relaxed as it often was at the later stages of meditation. T'Yron had likely put Raek up to it, as he was usually more receptive then.

Raek entered more visibly and held out a small stone, with something etched in it. It was artistically styled calligraphy the symbol for peace. Liyar had seen a few of these in the past, mostly crafts made by children to exchange with eachother for no apparent reason, but he closed his fingertips over it. "Sit, Raek."

The small boy sat, looking up out of a perfectly straight cap of shiny black hair, his face schooled into calm, attempting to reflect his father. Even as they were often at conflict, Raek unconsciously mimicked him. He had his mother's eyes, an uncommon hazel. Currently, they were cast down on the floor. He put his hands on his knees. "I do not hate you," he finally said, and shrugged.

"I suspected not." A thin thread of amusement, through their familial bond. The silence stretched between them, encouraging Raek to say what he had come to say.

"I regret my actions. I hate the stocks. They never behave as they should. They are difficult to pull. It is frustrating to try very hard."

"It is so, for Vulcans. When things do not concede to our will, we become enraged. Our anger is strong. It begins young, for very superfluous reasons. It is why we must learn control." He held out his hands in the familial embrace, and Raek crossed his wrists. "But perhaps a, compromise, may be reached. I will assign you a task in its place. You must understand, my son, these things cannot be neglected. There will one day come a time where it will be your responsibility. The Estate will be yours. You must learn to tend to it."

"I understand. Mother has recommended I meditate with you so that you can help me to get rid of the feelings. My meditation is not as good."

"It is not about being rid of feelings, Raek. You know this."

"Well, I want them to go away," Raek responded testily, before lowering his voice.

"They may only change. They never truly leave. Meditation is merely about accepting them, not allowing them to rule you. Your progress in the techniques is standard."

Raek looked up at that, clearly pleased, but quickly stifled the expression. Even if his technique was normal, he still preferred spending time in the alcove here. The familiarity, and connection was reassuring in a way Raek had rarely experienced. A constant stalwart presence, a steady tower to keep at bay the outside chaos.

It struck Liyar, sitting and watching while his son began attempting the low level processes, how very young he was. Often, Liyar did not give it much consideration, believing the best path to maturity to engender it by respecting his choices (and the consequences of them), but sometimes, rarely, he could see what T'Yron meant when she stated that he was only a child. Vulnerable, and needing guidance to find the way. The same values he attempted to instill in Raek were things he often neglected himself in his treatment of him, believing him more than capable to sustain himself without Liyar's help. Assist others where you can. Eliminate entropy. Cooperation. Peace, like the craft stone said, he supposed. In its own way, it was a reminder to him as well as an entreaty.

"Let us begin."

OFF:

Liyar
T'Yron
Raek

 

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