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04-15-2016, 10:45 PM
  Milo | Knox And if you don't love me now, you will never love me again [ ooc/notes | word count | tags ] Given that he does not speak to me, I cannot even begin to understand. Given that I cannot speak to him, I cannot even begin to explain that I want to. We remain distant. My father's life, his emotions, even his identity, are entirely separate from mine. Is it that I'm trying to entangle them and am constantly being rejected, or that I don't know how? I'm tired of watching, of following, of pretending that I can be like him. How can you mold yourself into the form of an unfamiliar shadow? Father I-- what? What do I? Do I want to know him, to love him? The thoughts that would be words are dumb echoes in the front of my mind, dragging my head down. I take a few tentative steps forward, but angling farther from my father and the stranger. I am not a part of this. I am not a part of this fiery creature's companionship with the white pegasus' bond, I am not a part of my father's experiment to erase himself from existence. I am, in the face of their interaction, nothing. He doesn't even mention that I am his son. He doesn't even give this Darwin my name. Knox has said my name once, perhaps. There is only the one time that I can remember, when Manhattan died. Now he says a stranger's name with more recognition, as if he has known this other beast longer. But aren't I his child, aren't I supposed to be special? Of course not. I'm just a boy. So I scratch at the ground of the woods, the same ones my father says are special, and tear up the dirt with an anxious forehoof. Occasionally I have wandered here, found white and gold feathers strewn about. My father says these are good woods. I think they smell of death. "" running in the shadows |
