The Heteromorphic Complex.

Part I: Homecoming.

Jingle from the reverence of the bay, single remembrances of tangible desires come lost and refunded. So as he is in peregrination, he tends to his audience of unwilling patrons in the second World War. Brothers in arms come marching from a cruise ship returning to U.S. territory, docked to allow its passengers to disembark it. Aiden, with pleasure, had continued in thought of what his home might now be. Perhaps some had grown, he assumed his mother's persona to be unchanging; Considering she reverted fairly often to a previous version of herself.

  She was married upon the adoption of Aiden, only to divorce her husband given his abusive tenancies to herself. To protect Aiden, she would for two years, be a single mother to one. Until Stephan, who Aiden tended to be not too fond of. His traipse had been partially gradual as glisse continued forthwith, there as he approached the doorstep of his home, it was Stephan tending to his Mother's garden which caught the attention of pallid-russet hues.

"Aiden?" As if he were surprised, the war had ended, and there walked the son he was not officially the father of. With a partial smile amongst plump roseate labium, he smiled. "Bonjour, Stephan." To which a brisk sprint towards the six-foot tall boy cometh Stephan, happily introducing love into the scarred belfry of the boy. "Did they teach you french over there?" The rough cadence of his step father well-nigh excited, much to the surprise of Aiden.

A smile, therefore, laughter. A pat to the center of his step-father's back. "No, only how to shoot and kill. I taught myself, with the little time I had in between." To which comes the cadence of his mother, her Italian inflection sounded -- Aiden immediately realized this to be his Mother. "Aiden!" Excited, her arms too, encircle both himself and Stephan. Aiden himself thrown into a fit of laughter, he pecked her forehead.

"I was so worried!" Open arms indeed. The tears within her eyes confirm her words, and as he espied her, it was a tendril of leucous-mane which the right index finger of Aiden swept from her features, acknowleding the step from himself by his Step-father who stood stagnant, therewith a smile to appeal to the situation. "I was too," Aiden smirked well-nigh, it was tears which threatened pallid-russet hues. "How are you? Did you ever get hurt, are you healthy? Hungry?" With her and Stephan, Aiden would traipse indoors.

His things placed upon the floral-fabric sofa northernmost of himself innermost the living room of their country cottage, which was positioned upon a farm. "I'm completely alright, mom. But, I am starving." His smile did not cease in the moment, howbeit, it is the view of the kitchen as he shall follow suit his mother; The cabinets different, an orange pigmentation, this brought surprise to him within the forefront.

"The cabinets," eyebrows furrow, arms athwart his chest. "Too extreme?" Her voice soft as she shall assay her son, "pas du tout." To which the eyebrows of her furrow upon hearing her english-speaking son speak the french language. "Did they teach you french oversees?" To which he smirked, "I taught myself in between." She smiled, although, somewhat judgmental. "Why not Italian? We could talk about people and they would never know," to which he chuckled, "mom, if I wanted to talk about people I would have learned Italian. I don't have anything to say about people."

Russet hues of Aiden's pale-visage of a mother tend to assay him in acknowledgement, as if what he had spoken of seldom be too irregular. "You are a man, I should have known you did not like to talk about people." To which Aiden chuckled, "trust me, men talk a lot." As if surprised, she giggled. "That's enough," Stephan, who shall walk to gradually pass his step-son. Whom espied him in curiosity. "Let the boy settle into his place, he's had a rough year. Is that right?"

To which Aiden shrugged, "murdering German soldiers for the sake of our country was stressful, but it was everything going into it that, that grew me tired." Of which piqued the interest of Stephan, "were you drafted?" Questioning his step-father, who pecked the cheek of Marlene, his mother. "No, I failed the test." To which Aiden grimaced, "It was hard." An exhalation, a clap from himself. "Then! I'll be upstairs, I need to shower and whatnot."

"By the way," from his mother, whom halted him by notice. "Do you remember Kaori?" Kaori? Perhaps in a sense, it had invoked fear. Perhaps he was not entirely alright with the idea. "Yes. Why?" To which she smiled, "I want you to see him today, he was asking about Mitchell the other day. Did Mitchell go home?" Mitchell..

The ambiance flounders, a flower in tears brought to the surface. Persistence to overthrow his healing upon answering her question, and so he simply answers, "no." Whence continuing upstairs. "B-" Stephan interrupts. "Leave it be, Marlene."

  - LEcrivainMicah