This was Palis' childhood home, a house he hadn't called up in ten years. He visited, of course, but only enough to say that he had visited, had kept up appearances. The only residents now were his father and two servants- Zephyr, the mute human gardener, and Edwin, the passive butler. Zephyr was one of the few humans Palis had come to enjoy, perhaps by his simple mind and nonverbal communication. Palis had fond memories of playing in the garden and picking flowers with Zephyr in his childhood. Edwin was a quiet shadow, a man nearly the same age as his father. Palis' respect for passives had grown in part because of this man. Palis would never verbalize it, but he sometimes found himself in the belief that he liked these two men- one of them human- more than his own father.
Palis rapped on the door. Behind it, he could hear the movement of feet, and, in a moment, the door was open. Edwin, not a day aged since the last Roalis when Palis had visited, stood with his hand still upon the doorknob.
"Edwin!" Palis greeted, clasping the slightly taller old man in a friendly hug. Edwin returned it with a few swift pats on the back before Palis released him.
"Welcome home, Master Ainu," Edwin responded, closing the door after Palis had stepped into the hallway enclosed by the stairs on the left and the wall of paintings and maps on the right. The windows on either side of the door brightly illuminated the brightly carpeted floor.
"Your father is in his study. Shall I fetch him?"
"Ah, no, I believe I'm capable of that, Edwin. I'll keep him occupied; you take a break," Palis joked with a wink to Edwin, readying himself to walk up the stairs.
"A much-appreciated offer I'm afraid I cannot take," Edwin answered seriously. "Ring the bell when you're ready for your afternoon tea." Palis nodded as Edwin busied himself with whatever list of tasks occupied his mind as he disappeared through the large, open double doors into the parlor on the left of the stairway. Palis began to ascend the stairs, his hand running up the familiar smoothness of the wooden handrail. The landing was empty save for a large grandfather clock, and the stairs turned sharply to the right until they reached the second floor. In front of him was the door to his father's study, a brightly illuminated room in the turret. To his left, however, was his own bedroom, still open as if he had just left. Edwin had taken care to keep it up for 10 years in case the boy would come back. As serious as the butler was, he had always hoped that Palis, as much of a son as he would ever have, would come back.
"Palis? Quit lurking around out there," a stern voice emanated from behind the door to the study, thwarting Palis' episode of nostalgia. Palis rolled his eyes to himself before walking to the study door. He pushed it open.
Palis had always wanted one of the round rooms of the turret to be his bedroom. The room had shiny wooden floors and pale yellow walls. Every part of the wall not attached to the house was covered with a tall, curtainless window. The windowless parts of the wall held tall bookshelves with each book neatly placed and organized by subject. A desk sat in the middle of the room with a comfortable chair behind it and a large lamp beside it. A single rickety chair was before the desk, a chair Palis had had to sit in and endure lectures many times.
"In or out, Palis. No need to linger in the doorway like some illiterate and indecisive beast," snapped the man at the desk. He was an older man who stood, when he wasn't sitting at his desk, to be 5'6". He had a skinny nose on which a pair of rectangular spectacles perched above and a neat and well-trimmed red mustache perched beneath. His blue eyes were dulled by age, and his strawberry-blonde hair was threaded with grey. His cheeks were in a constant flush of pink.
He was, quite simply, a well-aged Palis.
Yet, looks were perhaps one of few things that Kilapu Ainu and his son shared. Kilapu was a cynic, a hermit, and a cantankerous asshole in his old age; Palis was a fool, a social butterfly, and a naive optimist in his youth. They disapproved of each other strongly, but, as with many families, they found themselves stuck with each other no matter how hard they tried.
Kilapu pointed to the chair for Palis to sit, and he did. The elder man pulled his glasses from his face and rubbed at his eyes before replacing the glasses.
"Now, what do you want?" Kilapu asked boredly through a sigh.