The Sorrow Basket

"So are you angry?" boy's frustrated question broke the silence between them. Zato Shadowblade moved behind his father, holding awkwardly the basket he was told to hold. He was avoiding his father's all-seeing blood-red eyes, as they walked through the Merchant Avenue, while his father silently picked up things from the colourful vendors of the evening market.

Dezzner Shadowblade did not respond, with that irritating way where he certainly had heard him, but it was hard to tell was he simply ignoring him, or was there some kind of point with this silence. Oku was better at reading father, which irritated Zato to no end, or at least little brother was less on the edge when father did something like that. Zato couldn't hold himself as well as his brother did.

"Thank you", Dezzner simply said to a gnomish lady, as he bought some quail eggs off from her cart. "Could I get also some of those broken shells, please?" He smiled with that strange smile he had, being the very face of pleasant.

Zato was often told how he looked like his drow elf father. His skin was obsidian black, his eyes reddish-brown, and his hair very pale-blond. His ears were pointy, if less long and sharp like his fathers, and some had made a joke that with him and his brother no one would know who the mother was for sure, as there was so little resemblance between them and their human mother. Yet beyond the obvious surface, Zato found very little in common with his form and his father's.

Zato was a broad-shouldered young man in his early twenties, his hair was curly, his chin pushing out a modest start of a beard, where his father was very slender, once sickly, with perfectly straight pearly white hair that was turning silver on the sides, about 6 inches shorter than Zato himself. You could say, that Zato towered his father with both height and width, yet Zato felt small in his presence and felt clumsy, not strong.

Sometimes family friends said, that Zato was his mother's son, more than his father's. And as much as he often thought that they were right and he loved his mother, there were times he felt strange about it. He wasn't sure was it an insult or praise, and in situations like these, he would've wished he would have at least that little bit more of him, that he would understand him better. Or maybe, even more, make him understand his point of view.

He stood there in frustrated silence, as his father laid the broken eggshells to the basket. There were quite a few things already; a knotted piece of string, a small seashell, a wildflower, a piece of bone, a striped feather, a piece of bread, a paintbrush and multiple other small things. Zato's mind escaped to all of the stories they told about his father, trying to make connections with pieces present and details of the tales he had heard. Few he connections he knew, others he wasn't so sure about.

"I didn't mean to cause any trouble", Zato swore, as his father picked up a colourful piece of fabric and a needle, adding them to the basket. "I mean... we had it all under control. Like kind-of."

Father listened to him without a word, raising his eyes to the moon and the starry sky. It was starting to be very late. Not that it bothered either of them, as Zato had inherited his father's sensitivity to sunlight.

"Are you at least going to use what we found?" Zato was getting more and more impatient.

"I think it's time to get to the docks." Dezzner's voice was soft, yet there was that sense of authority again, that was hard to deny. Father was ancient and seemed to need no effort to convince him or most of the other people in fact.

Zato would sigh but follow, as they got further from people and towards the docks. Sea was calm, and the moon was high.

It was there, on the end of the silent dock when father finally spoke. "Do you remember the story of the little tiefling boy?" he reached for the basket.

"Yes", Zato replied begrudgingly, letting father have his basket.

Dezzner gently moved the items around, readying them for the next phase. "There are many ways to make an impact on the world. I know your frustrations and have experienced them myself, and-".

It was hard for Zato to decide, which was more annoying; Father starting the "when I was your age" or the fact that as soon as he started to boil internally, father simply smiled with mild amusement and got back to his preparations, giving him the space.

Silence took about half a minute before Zato got enough of it. "Go on."

"Are you sure? You did not feel too receptive", father replied with his observation.

"Just spit it out!" Goddammit, this old fart...

Dezzner took his time before he continued. "I just wanted to say, it is very easy to get caught on the idea, that you want things fixed as fast as possible. And sometimes that indeed is the most efficient option. But other times, rashness can work against you. Most durable solutions tend to be slow to execute, regardless of how frustrating it can be."

"But these are pirates! They kill, they plunder, they risk the reputation of the brother just for their amusement!" Zato snapped and starred at his father, who calmly looked back at him. "Innocents need to suffer just because they monopolise the face of the Masked one and they keep harassing the locals!" His hands were shaking, as he turned his eyes to the waves. "This isn't something that can just wait. Something needs to happen, now."

Dezzner listened to his son quietly, continuing readying the basket.

"People listen to you", Zato challenged his father. "I know the stories, I know people rush to see that what you do, you could rise against it in public and make the voices louder. But you keep just... Standing there, you could do something! Like actually do something! Like in the rebellion! Like in the war!"

Dezzner had a dry smirk escaping to his face, as he shook his head. "And you think I have the ability to inspire many?"

"Of course you do, and you know it! They..." Zato's tongue felt suddenly tied down, as the words died to his lips. He had locked his eyes with those blood-red eyes people called 'demon-like' and while he saw that man from the stories, he also saw the man who raised him. Who wiped snot from his face, taught him to read, read him stories and held him tight when he had been scared.
They fear you, he would have said, and while he saw the man they were scared off, he also saw the professor who in the morning sat with his hairbrush, slippers and morning gown to have his morning tea and read something, before going to work and doing some volunteer work when he had some time in his schedule. Suddenly he felt angry about it. For people finding father scary. At it was confusing and frustrating, so in the end, he just huffed. "Forget it."

Dezzner's face was as calm and unchanged as ever. After some pause, he opened his mouth. "Best anyone can ever do is to work with their best knowledge. We all need to make-"

"Make our own mistakes, I get it!" Zato spat out realising too late that his father had lifted his eyebrow a bit, meaning he had just hit a trap.

"... choices", father corrected. "That will, inevitably, include some mistakes, yes, but the binary of mistakes and successes is rarely applicable to things that are not taught in the classroom."

Zato felt exposed by his own words. True. As sure as he had been from their plan earlier, the rougher the things had gone, he had started to doubt himself and got worried for himself, not to mention his friends he had dragged in trouble with him. Simon, Ripley and Bones had worked so hard and had to pull his weight as well as Rizztel had taken him under his watchful eyes. They had survived, they had gotten information, but... even with all of that it had gone so out of the plan and when they had dragged poor Bones home, injured, worried if he would live or die... He had a gnawing feeling it had all been a mistake, done for nothing. That was what hurt the most, where the frustration really came from; maybe instead of fixing things he had made them worse, or maybe he had just wasted time of... everyone. And that hurt. That hurt a lot.

Zato couldn't look at father anymore and looked at the ocean, listening to the familiar song of the waves. He had, for a moment, considered that maybe he would never see the familiar docks again. For a moment he had been really scared.

Dezzner let the silence stand there between them, until, finally, with all of that regal confidence he finally replied to message coded to letter Zato had left for the family before his foolish journey. He patted Zato's shoulder and told simply: "We are always proud of you."

"Yeah right", Zato replied too fast with a wavering voice. But he felt it. Even if he wasn't quite ready for it.

Dezzner turned and picked up the basket. "Almost time", he told them. "Is there a sorrow, you wish to add to it?"

Zato took a deep breath and with shaking hands he started to dig through his pockets while peering to the basket. "The paintbrush... that is uncle Loke, isn't it?"

Father nodded slowly.

"How often... How often do you think you need to send them...?"

Dezzner pondered, with a small sigh, looking up, like making some kind of calculation. "I don't know if there really is a pattern to it. It is more about what feels right, really. Some you send away once or twice, some... you need to work a bit more vigorously."

"Never seen the eggshells before", Zato admitted. "Is that new or...?"

"No, just something very old I hadn't thought about in a while", father admitted, quite gently, actually.

Zato nodded but did not pry. He put his own sorrows into the basket; a bandana, earring, hook and he cut a small wound to his finger to give it a drop of blood. Father did not comment. Only the offerer knew the proper offering, after all.

"Ready?"

"Yeah." Zato nodded, and both men turned towards the ocean, taking one, deep breath. Gently as he could, Dezzner reached to give the basket to the waves, as it slowly started to drift away.

After a moment, father raised his hand, and with a mumbled word, the basket on the waves was caught by magical fire. He and Zato both sat down on the end of the dock, just watching how it drifted further away, slowly burning to crisp until it would sink under the lazy waves.

Quietly Zato looked at his father closing his eyes, just breathing in the seaside air, calming himself down, while he was still trying to quiet his inner storm. How on earth did he do that? Like he just shook it all off... He never really understood... But kinda did, while he didn't, or so it felt and it was confusing.

He turned to see the basket, trying to imagine his worries burning away, before being sinking to the bottom of the sea with the basket. And he pondered how many sorrow baskets had these shores seen, sent by his father.

Maybe the sea was salty because it was made from tears.

---

This piece is a small epilogue of a kind to a previous game some while ago for my players. Players successfully returned Zato Shadowblade to his father Dezzner Shadowblade, after boy, for unknown reason, turned to piracy for awhile. Party didn't quite catch what was going on with the family and this strange episode, so... even though the game itself was a while ago, I decided to retroactively write something for them to chew on if they so wish. ;3

It's also a nice piece of characterization for Zato, and maybe tells about his complicated relationship with his father from his point of view.