After the death of his father, with both of his brothers being gone, one presumed dead, inheriting a Realm on the verge of economic collapse, and trapped in a loveless marriage he wanted no part of, Isandro was struggling. Pollutants in the air and...
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It was early evening and Avriane had run off for the night before Isandro left to do whatever she does when she isn't home, which left Isandro to get Jixane to bed. He was glad, to some extent, to have the time with her. He had yet to tell her about his trip to Ovarath, and he couldn't quite figure out how to do that. He wasn't the best at heartfelt goodbyes, and Jixane was happy that he wasn't going on missions anymore, so the admission of him leaving again wouldn't be too happily accepted.
He wasn't terribly adept at making big speeches, and when Ilsa and Isoloses were children he'd set his departure times for when they were in tutoring sessions or when they were in bed, depending on what was going on. He didn't really like the required discussion if he said goodbye beforehand. Unfortunately, he'd gotten a little familiar with saying goodbye to Jixane this way, but that didn't make it any easier.
She had just taken her bath and was wearing a nightgown that was ruffly and long, reaching nearly her ankles. Her hair was wet still, flowing in loose waves down her back, and Isandro was combing through it with a brush. He had relatively short hair in comparison to hers, so he wasn't sure how to brush hair that well, but he was attempting so that was something.
He'd let the babysitter go back to her quarters for the night, with the plan of putting Jixxie to bed himself. He was anxious if he was being honest. He didn't love the fact that he was having to say this to her, he didn't like that he had to have this conversation with her again. She always cried, worried because usually when he left it felt so final. He could never fully promise that nothing would happen to him when he left the realm, hell even the Castle, sometimes.
She was so young, and explaining all of this to her felt nearly impossible. She couldn't even grasp that Ilsa was dead, and now he was about to go out and do something dangerous knowing that the end result could be one that wasn't ideal.
"Daddy," Jixane mumbled, her fingers tangled together in front of him. Isandro hummed as he ran the brush through her hair again. "You've been brushing my hair for twenty minutes," She whined, and Isandro blinked a couple of times as he realized she wasn't exaggerating. Her hair had long since been tangle free, but he was compulsively brushing her hair to procrastinate.
"Sorry, Princess, Daddy is just a bit distracted tonight," He admitted, pulling the brush away from her hair and sitting it down on the table by her bed.
"You're going away again, aren't you?" Jixane asked, turning around in her seat to look up at Isandro. Isandro hesitated, his eyes roaming over her face. She let out a huff and crossed her arms, obviously able to read him a lot better than he could read her.
"Well, it's not like the last time I went away, Princess," Isandro immediately said, and Jixane blew her bangs out of her eyes, her golden eyes rolling a bit as she looked up at him. "I'm not starting a war this time, I'm hoping to end one before it begins," Isandro put his hand on her shoulder.
"Daddy it's dangerous," Jixane said, and Isandro shook his head, trying to stay relaxed. If he let any fear or worry show, she could sense it, he swore.
