(Log) Sunday afternoons
Who: Alistair and Ephrem Westerveldt
When: Sunday afternoon
Where: Swords Castle, Alistair's private quarters
What: Alistair and his son have a conversation.

Alistair paced his room as he flicked cards from all around. His mind was wandering, plotting, pondering what to do as he absentmindedly flicked, flicked,

"Father," Ephrem sighed sitting up on the couch. "You're driving me insane," he slipped a grin onto his lips.

Alistair stopped and looked over at his son. "Sorry about that Ephrem," he tucked the cards away into his coat. "I just got a little side tracked."

"What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing, nothing important anyways," he shrugged. Of course he was lying, he was always scheming. His next plot involved getting him and his son a higher place in the world instead of being tucked away into a little corner of the Swords Kingdom until his home could be restored. He wanted more than that.

"Liar," Ephrem didn't need to see to know that his father was lying. Ever since he was blinded in the war his other senses had sharpened. He could hear more clearly than ever before, especially the tones and changes in a voice. "You're plotting something."

Alistair cursed the stars every day for blinding his son and injuring him in the war. The war had caused his son to lose his independence and his sight and it had also meant that Ephrem could hear better which meant that Alistair could never lie to the young man. Lying was something that Alistair had learned and something that he had always done. It was the reason why his marriage had ended, the reason why Ephrem and he had a strained relationship in the past, and the reason why he had gotten so far in life. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Ephrem, you know that everything I've done in this life has been for your betterment," that part actually held some truth to it. Alistair had done the best he could for his son. "Sometimes I just feel like you don't get it though, so I don't involve you in getting there. So as long as we get to where we need to be, you need not worry about your father and his plotting."

"There is danger in your ambition father."

Alistair grinned. "Of course there is."