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10-03-2014, 08:36 PM
 ranjiri & ryuu so while you're outside looking in, describing what you see, remember what you're looking at is me Father. It resounded in my head, a mantra, nearly effortless as it rang again and again inside my skull. Words cannot hurt, they said. Applicable to insults crafted from others. Yet my own word was hurting me, oh how it made my head pound! I didn't like change, I didn't like disruption or chaos. All I wanted in my life was the warm side of Momma close by and the Oasis. I had no real goals, no dreams. I simply did what Momma said, tried to make her smile with what few words I ever spoke. Useless colts did not deserve dreams, and I was not worthy of a fate any different than the one I already occupied; making Momma as happy as I could manage. My life was simple, a routine. Yet here, with my father staring me down with eyes I had taken from him, suddenly that routine was shattering beneath my shaking hands. I could only hope Momma would kiss away the sting of the cuts when this all ended, for surely it could only end in pain. For where Father was, surely Mother must be somewhere in hiding. Awaiting the moment she snatched me from Momma's side to do her bidding, or perhaps to look after Annie again. Be the flesh shield that kept her living a little longer should anything attack my flighted sister. Momma's fear was as thick and cloying as mine, I could feel her tension in the vibrato of her feathers, singing a tale of dread and despair. It soothed the aching scars on my heart, to know she was just as scared to lose me as I was of parting from her. But Father had always been kind...always, who was I trying to kid? I'd met my sire only twice, brief instances barely inscribed upon my mind. Were it not for my lack of any friends, I could have easily forgotten his face. Momma turned to look at me; red, red eyes and dark, dark lashes. A language I knew by heart already. A simple glance that translated into entire tomes of confessions. Love. It still staggered me, to see the power of her love, to see my scraggly, toothpick-thin form reflected in her eyes and yet still have her regard me with such tenderness. What in me could she possibly love? I daren't question it. I am shuffled aside, farther from father and tucked tight beneath Momma's wing. I butt the side of my horns against her shoulder, a nervous habit, a way of reassuring myself that she was there. She was tangible. She was...protecting me. And though I knew Father would never attempt to harm her, nor I, it made my insides warm and my knees weak. Momma always said battle was a sad, disparaging ideal. And yet she would throw herself before me, between any danger and my useless soul, and she would defend. Protect. Sacrifice it all for me. I desired to cry from so simple an action, but insistent barking, quite like Ilaria, drew away my attention. "Ouija," I breathe, recalling her name. Bend my crown to my own shoulder to peer backwards, past Momma's wing, to see the little fox. "Father is not bad," I murmur as I straighten, practically plastering myself to Momma's side. "Mother the bad one," I remind her, barely a whisper. It was Mother I did not care to remember. As if I possibly could remember, with how often she was gone. Leaving her defenseless twins to battle the world uselessly. No, Father was not bad. At least, I didn't think so. @[Voodoo]  |
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