Chapter Four - Responsibility

25 Griev 10.075 Z.C., Noon

Mav wished he was in Precinct Six - this time of day the forgeworker’s lunchtime banter would have drowned out his aunt’s droning. But that wasn’t that case here in pristine Precinct One - where the thrice-purified air was as dry as her tone.

“You need to do something with your life, Maverick,” Melo continued, disapprovingly shaking her head at the scone before her. “You can’t keep working dead-end jobs and getting into fights all the time. Your parents would be so disappointed.”

Mav frowned across the table at his adoptive aunt as she lectured him for the thousandth time about personal responsibility and ‘doing his duty.’ He once found her breathy accent, common in elven houses with close ties to the Selesnya, mysterious and alluring. Now, its pompousness only annoyed him.

As usual, he pushed aside the sting of her words. She hardly even knew him anymore - who was she to judge him? As he’d grown older and they grew more distant, her words gradually affected him less - but that jab always hurt. He knew his parents would be disappointed. So what if Aunt Melo had known them much longer than he had? She gave up on him years ago - what gave her the right to step into their shoes?

By now, their birthday meetings were less a family celebration, more a filial obligation. Every year, he secretly hoped she would notice how he had matured and grown more responsible. Yet every year was the same - nothing was ever good enough for her. He’d heard this speech so many times he could recite it himself.

But at the end of the day, he didn’t have much family and couldn’t afford to burn the bridges he had left, so he let her ramble on. Melo’s semiannual lectures aside, seeing her always delighted him. She’d been a close friend to his mother before he was born, and remained a positive influence in his father’s life before … the accident.

Aunt Melo casually glanced around the cafe. Checking to make sure no one important was here, no doubt. Mav didn’t bother following her glance, instead studying the artful sweep of her hair over her pointed elfin ears. Located just minutes from the Chamber of the Guildpact, Rhee’s Torts attracted the highest class of citizens from all across Ravnica - as fancy a place as they came, even in Precinct One. He was swimming in her zonot, here. Even wearing his best clothes and styling his unruly hair into a long queue, he stood out like a loxodon at a pain show. He had nothing to lose by being noticed here, but no doubt his aunt was another story.

Melo Dia - the renowned songstress. Her mother was a prominent member of the Selesnyan Conclave, who honor life, nature, and its bounteous offerings, and Melo’s gift of song was rumored to be the blessing of Mat’Selesnya, the guild’s spiritual leader and the divine soul of the city. Besides her blockbuster performances (the last of which Mav skipped) he knew she served as a liaison of sorts for the Selesnyan Conclave.

He had been closer to his aunt once, but too much time had passed and now he felt like a stranger to her. The great Melo Dia spent hundreds of years honing her stunning voice and subtle crafts, and her carefully cultivated list of private clients didn’t include people like him.

“Arrested for public drunkenness and disrupting the peace, Maverick?” she chided, her melodious voice low, barely audible. “You know I expect better from you. We all do.” Her eyes held real disappointment, and every fine line of her sharp elven features showed it. Gritting his teeth, Mav pretended to ignore her and looked away.

It amazed him, how she only talked about the negative things he did. There was never praise for hard work or good deeds, or even an acknowledgement at his carving out his own life in the rough-and-tumble world of Precinct Six. Even if Melo knew he was only defending Splatz against Krenko’s thugs, Mav knew his aunt would still assume he was in the wrong. No explanation needed.

They had been sitting at Ree’s for nearly an hour. Melo started in on Mav as soon as she finished talking about her most recent play - the one he missed. He had been waiting for her to ask him a question about his life - besides “What do you have to say for yourself?!” so he could give her the present he’d gotten her. Given the mood she was in, that seemed unlikely - this was probably as close to a normal conversation as they were going to get.

Reaching into his belt pouch and withdrawing a small box, he cleared his throat before he set it on the table, gently sliding it across to her. Melo’s brow furrowed, but less so than at the scone. She set her napkin aside, looking at Mav before opening the box.

The jade earrings inside were the best Mav could find on Tin Street, and though he knew they were less expensive than her usual emeralds and pearls, he thought the ornate ivy pattern would suit her well. He figured they matched her signature style and color scheme, and the earrings looked expensive without being gaudy. He’d had his eye on a pair inset with emeralds, but after the mishap during his last job and the subsequent visit to the local ministrant for healing... She examined them briefly and nodded.

“Thank you, Maverick,” she said, hesitating as though awaiting his reply.

Mav leaned back in his chair, letting the silence hang for a moment. “You’re welcome.”

Melo paused before looking around again. After taking a sip of water, she pursed her lips.

“...Listen, Maverick, I need to get going. I have a rehearsal.” She sat up and motioned for the waiter before he could reply. “It was nice to see you,” she followed up, trying not to sound dismissive and failing.

He shrugged and made eye contact with the waiter, who approached with the bill. When they arrived, Mav reached out to pay their tab. He felt bad about not getting Melo the earrings he’d wanted to, and felt covering lunch would relieve him of some burden of obligation. Even at Precinct One prices - especially at Precinct One prices - it would show Melo he cared. Plus, he felt bad about his last fight spoiling any chance for conversation they could have had.

As he reached for the bill, Melo cleared her throat. Her’s was only half as loud as Mav’s, but her siren’s pitch drew the muted attention of most nearby tables. Mav and the waiter both glanced at her, taking in her sternly arched brow and imperious gesture. The server hesitated, then handed the bill to Melo, avoiding Mav’s gaze.

“Really Maverick, I hardly think you should be wasting your father’s money. I’m sure you and your friends have been drinking enough of it away recently. I’ll cover lunch.” Barely glancing at the bill, she handed the server a few gold and they hastily faded away. Mav’s expression darkened and he felt his fists tighten under the table.

“It just makes me so sad for them,” she continued once the waiter was just out of earshot. “Your mother was so proud to call herself a Viktorr, and Ace really lived up to his legacy. He was the face of the Skyknights for good reason. He was a paragon of honor and courage, for Aurelia’s sake! Yet here you are, dragging the Viktorr name through the mud with your childish antics!" She sighed, rolling the glass of water between her fingers. "It’s time you grew up, Maverick,” Melo said, suddenly sounding tired.

Mav stood stiffly, keeping his pain and anger in check even as the blood rushed into his cheeks. She might think she has the right, even the ‘duty’ to say these things because she’d been close friends with his parents. But it didn’t mean he had to sit here and take whatever outlandish abuse she threw at him. Her choice not to get to know him as a person was the primary reason they’d only seen each other once this past year. Considering how this meeting had gone, it would probably be another year before he sought her out again.

“Happy birthday, Auntie,” he said with every ounce of politeness he could force. He dropped some zinos on the table, both as a tip and to make a show for anyone she knew that was watching. Then he turned around and walked out of the cafe without looking back.