SKETCH: A Young Killian
Mar. 29th, 2011 06:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deepintrospectTitle: Untitled
Author: me,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
deepintrospect
Rating: G/PG
Word Count: 1,201
Character(s): Killian Aydan Cecil, Mrs. Cecil, Mr. Cecil.
Warnings/Notes: No one, other than myself, has looked over this. This is just for me to jot down ideas about the characters that won't necessarily happen in the novel(s). I still own this, so if anyone wants to use any of it for anything, credit me.
The very first time that Killian Aydan Cecil showed any evidence of his powers he was a very young child. Of course, this development was not unexpected, it was just quite different than any one of his family members would have thought. Before we get into the details of what exactly happened that January evening, we must first relay the background of the boy in question.
Killian was born in a hospital in Georgia (where his mother met his father), quite near the border to Florida. It was a hot August night, the thirteenth to be exact, and the AC unit just couldn't seem to cool anyone down. His birth was normal, as was the parents' reactions to having a healthy newborn son. Nothing was odd about him—not at this point in time, anyway.
If one were to look into his family history they would find that his father was from a long line of Americans, generally all located in the state of Georgia. His mother, on the other hand, hailed from Germany. Her entire family was supportive of the marriage but they were a bit, well, strange.
The whole lot of them had an odd affinity with water—particularly large bodies of water. But one would find, when having the family over for dinner, that they drank nothing but water. While it might not seem entirely strange on it's own, the Cecil's also tended toward living right along the coast, becoming Marine Biologists and being the best swimmers in the area. If one took all of those facts and looked into the family they might find them to be peculiar.
They were, in fact, Water Sprites. However, poor Killian was not going to be able to comfortably fit into the family by harboring the same love of water. This would inevitably cause a rift in the family later on, but for the time being the news was passed along like gossip in a small town. After all, he was the black sheep of the family; a secret to be kept hidden.
It was the afternoon on January 16th (not that anyone in the family would remember the exact date they found out, including his own mother), and the weather was a bitter cold with a wind that was rattling the windows. The happy family was together and enjoying the warmth of the cozy home. Books were being read, food enjoyed and sweaters worn, but the fire needed restocking so Killian's father, Stephen, ventured out into the cold he'd never known as a child to get some more firewood. Killian had protested the entire time, not wanting his father to go outside, but having no reason to keep him inside, so he went and sat next to his mother, huffing and crossing his arms.
To him, the cold was so bitter, he couldn't imagine that his Dad would be okay out in it. So he wracked his brain and came upon a better way—it made perfect sense to him, anyway. He didn't say anything about it, and as children were wont to do, he waited for his Dad to return inside in order to spring his idea on him. His Dad, who carried a large stack of firewood, had snow on his boots and the shoulders of his thick winter coat. He carefully tipped the armload onto the bricks and set about re-stocking the fire. Killian sat on the floor nearby, watching and waiting, his eyes dancing like the embers that flew up every time a piece of wood disturbed the ashes. His hands were planted between his knees on the carpet when his father shut the door to the stove.
“You don't need to go back out Dad.” Killian watched as his Dad shucked off his winter coat and undid the laces on his boots. His Dad smiled affectionately and reached over to muss his hair.
“Not until we need more wood, I don't.”
Killian shook his head, not worried in the least about his hair. “No, I mean you don't have to go out ever.”
His Dad chuckled and sat in his armchair, patting his lap for his son to join him. “And why's that?”
Killian grinned as he climbed up to sit on his Dad's lap, leaning back against the arm of the chair and ignoring his Mum watching them from the couch with a smile on her lips. “'Cause I can keep it going!”
At this, his Mum's expression changed subtly, not that anyone was looking at her. She tended towards believing her son no matter what (seeing as he had yet to go through a stage where he lied and made up stories), so she was torn between believing him (and wouldn't that be a horrible thing indeed) and telling him to not make up stories. She said nothing for the time being, as her husband was the one to question their son.
“How do you do that with no firewood? Surely you won't try to use your coloring books as fuel.” He cast his eyes to the carpet where various coloring books and utensils were scattered. He didn't want his son getting hurt by the fire, either. He shifted a bit and looked back at his son who was busy shaking his head. When he stopped, he spoke again, holding his little hand palm up to his Dad.
“No, you silly goose! I make fire happen.” That's when a small flame sprouted from his palm and scared his Dad so much that he tried to stand up and jump backwards, even though he was currently in his armchair. The result was Killian being dumped on the ground, stunned for the moment, a short-lived scream coming from his wife, and the small flame going out abruptly.
In the subsequent moments, Killian's father seemed to be frozen, staring at his son on the floor while his wife rushed over and scooped him up. She checked his hand and sat him down on the couch, kneeling in front of him and asking how he'd done it—had he learned a magic trick of some sort? When he dumbly shook his head “no” and proceeded to show his mother again, she watched him with wide eyes.
She knew—of course she knew—exactly what he was. She was scared, but he seemed to have it under control. She told him not to do that again until she told him he could and he tried to ask questions, but she remained firm. It was only when she looked over her shoulder that she realized that her husband, his boots and coat were all gone. He didn't come back until late that night, when Killian had already been put to bed. It was then that they had a conversation that led to the divorce. Killian's father loved his son, but he wanted to get the boy help so this fire-starting thing would stop. Since his wife would not allow such things, she refused to allow him to take his son away from her. The custody battles were harsh, but his mother won out and stayed in Germany with her son. His father sent cards, but never visited.
Author: me,
deepintrospectRating: G/PG
Word Count: 1,201
Character(s): Killian Aydan Cecil, Mrs. Cecil, Mr. Cecil.
Warnings/Notes: No one, other than myself, has looked over this. This is just for me to jot down ideas about the characters that won't necessarily happen in the novel(s). I still own this, so if anyone wants to use any of it for anything, credit me.
The very first time that Killian Aydan Cecil showed any evidence of his powers he was a very young child. Of course, this development was not unexpected, it was just quite different than any one of his family members would have thought. Before we get into the details of what exactly happened that January evening, we must first relay the background of the boy in question.
Killian was born in a hospital in Georgia (where his mother met his father), quite near the border to Florida. It was a hot August night, the thirteenth to be exact, and the AC unit just couldn't seem to cool anyone down. His birth was normal, as was the parents' reactions to having a healthy newborn son. Nothing was odd about him—not at this point in time, anyway.
If one were to look into his family history they would find that his father was from a long line of Americans, generally all located in the state of Georgia. His mother, on the other hand, hailed from Germany. Her entire family was supportive of the marriage but they were a bit, well, strange.
The whole lot of them had an odd affinity with water—particularly large bodies of water. But one would find, when having the family over for dinner, that they drank nothing but water. While it might not seem entirely strange on it's own, the Cecil's also tended toward living right along the coast, becoming Marine Biologists and being the best swimmers in the area. If one took all of those facts and looked into the family they might find them to be peculiar.
They were, in fact, Water Sprites. However, poor Killian was not going to be able to comfortably fit into the family by harboring the same love of water. This would inevitably cause a rift in the family later on, but for the time being the news was passed along like gossip in a small town. After all, he was the black sheep of the family; a secret to be kept hidden.
It was the afternoon on January 16th (not that anyone in the family would remember the exact date they found out, including his own mother), and the weather was a bitter cold with a wind that was rattling the windows. The happy family was together and enjoying the warmth of the cozy home. Books were being read, food enjoyed and sweaters worn, but the fire needed restocking so Killian's father, Stephen, ventured out into the cold he'd never known as a child to get some more firewood. Killian had protested the entire time, not wanting his father to go outside, but having no reason to keep him inside, so he went and sat next to his mother, huffing and crossing his arms.
To him, the cold was so bitter, he couldn't imagine that his Dad would be okay out in it. So he wracked his brain and came upon a better way—it made perfect sense to him, anyway. He didn't say anything about it, and as children were wont to do, he waited for his Dad to return inside in order to spring his idea on him. His Dad, who carried a large stack of firewood, had snow on his boots and the shoulders of his thick winter coat. He carefully tipped the armload onto the bricks and set about re-stocking the fire. Killian sat on the floor nearby, watching and waiting, his eyes dancing like the embers that flew up every time a piece of wood disturbed the ashes. His hands were planted between his knees on the carpet when his father shut the door to the stove.
“You don't need to go back out Dad.” Killian watched as his Dad shucked off his winter coat and undid the laces on his boots. His Dad smiled affectionately and reached over to muss his hair.
“Not until we need more wood, I don't.”
Killian shook his head, not worried in the least about his hair. “No, I mean you don't have to go out ever.”
His Dad chuckled and sat in his armchair, patting his lap for his son to join him. “And why's that?”
Killian grinned as he climbed up to sit on his Dad's lap, leaning back against the arm of the chair and ignoring his Mum watching them from the couch with a smile on her lips. “'Cause I can keep it going!”
At this, his Mum's expression changed subtly, not that anyone was looking at her. She tended towards believing her son no matter what (seeing as he had yet to go through a stage where he lied and made up stories), so she was torn between believing him (and wouldn't that be a horrible thing indeed) and telling him to not make up stories. She said nothing for the time being, as her husband was the one to question their son.
“How do you do that with no firewood? Surely you won't try to use your coloring books as fuel.” He cast his eyes to the carpet where various coloring books and utensils were scattered. He didn't want his son getting hurt by the fire, either. He shifted a bit and looked back at his son who was busy shaking his head. When he stopped, he spoke again, holding his little hand palm up to his Dad.
“No, you silly goose! I make fire happen.” That's when a small flame sprouted from his palm and scared his Dad so much that he tried to stand up and jump backwards, even though he was currently in his armchair. The result was Killian being dumped on the ground, stunned for the moment, a short-lived scream coming from his wife, and the small flame going out abruptly.
In the subsequent moments, Killian's father seemed to be frozen, staring at his son on the floor while his wife rushed over and scooped him up. She checked his hand and sat him down on the couch, kneeling in front of him and asking how he'd done it—had he learned a magic trick of some sort? When he dumbly shook his head “no” and proceeded to show his mother again, she watched him with wide eyes.
She knew—of course she knew—exactly what he was. She was scared, but he seemed to have it under control. She told him not to do that again until she told him he could and he tried to ask questions, but she remained firm. It was only when she looked over her shoulder that she realized that her husband, his boots and coat were all gone. He didn't come back until late that night, when Killian had already been put to bed. It was then that they had a conversation that led to the divorce. Killian's father loved his son, but he wanted to get the boy help so this fire-starting thing would stop. Since his wife would not allow such things, she refused to allow him to take his son away from her. The custody battles were harsh, but his mother won out and stayed in Germany with her son. His father sent cards, but never visited.
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Date: 2011-04-12 10:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-13 01:17 am (UTC)