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07-27-2016, 11:55 AM
(This post was last modified: 07-27-2016, 11:57 AM by Sikeax.
Edit Reason: I FUCKED UP MY CODING FUCK ME ;-;
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i never said i'd stay to the end
The more she listens to him speak with words that have never really been spoken to her before, - “thank you, for bringing me away from pain,” - the more her heart twists shut and hurts in response. No one has ever been so kind to her. No one ever cares to think about thanking their healers, about the amount of effort and time that must be put into doing such a difficult job. She almost wants to say that it is harder than that of a warrior’s because it requires effort and determination without flaw, “strength,” Hobgoblin whispers into her mind, but that would be an insult, wouldn’t it? There is a social hierarchy with your rank, and healers do not sit as high and mighty as the warriors do.
“Dear,” she knows his name but it feels more fitting to give him some sort of term of endearment. Kid meant something to her, but what, she wasn’t sure just yet. “I would do it today, tonight, and every other night and day in the future if you needed it. I’d do anything to make sure you’re safe.” Her words flutter like butterfly wings while she speaks. Hobgoblin strolls past the growing boy without even the turn of an eye, shedding petals and vines as he steps. The remainder are spread across Sikeax as he shakes them free from himself, and despite the watching eyes, shifts into his Serval form.
His body fits well into place when it sinks into her side, snuggling, purring softly. Displays of affection like these are rare and if he doesn’t care enough for him to do so in front of the boy, then it must be a sign.
Kid fits into their odd little family like a broken puzzle piece, not perfectly falling into its place, but enough that the puzzle can build around him and accept him as a part of it. That’s what Kid’s importance is to her. Another son, another one that she’s grown unintentionally attached to.
A nod is given in return to his statement. Yes, she is the one who birthed Zhu, regardless of their extreme differences, but she cannot meld her child into her liking. No one can do that, because children have souls and minds and bodies all of their own that want to live their own unique lives and become their own person through their accomplishments and experiences. Zhu was never her’s to build, but at least when he is brought up, she can say that she tried to make him into something to be proud of.
Not that she isn’t proud of him. Zhu has turned into a boy with his own ideals and sometimes Hobgoblin fills her in on the things that Zhu has told him, things like how he wants to become a king without his father’s hand in it, how he wants to be known for something on his devotion. He makes her heart swell with warmth and love, her lips draw into soft, weak smiles.
He’s a perfect son, in all of his own ways.
“I am. It doesn’t look like it, does it?” She pushes out a low laugh, thinking about how her son was fast to turn into the dark behemoth that his father was. He was so proud and brave, smart despite the appearance he gave. He was even better at controlling his emotions compared to his mother, but possibly that is a good thing. It won’t cloud him. “He takes after his father more than he does me, but yes, I carried him and gave birth to him and raised him while he still let me.” That last line seems like an odd thing to say, but it’s true. He never really wanted assistance in his growth, and assured that her hand played little in his making other than the basics.
She barely changes at the confirmation he gives her. She has never been an idiot, always searching out clues and details that most would overlook just to get by in life, to make sure that pain and suffering aren’t lingering around the next corner. Possibly it comes out of her own raising, but there isn’t a true way to tell. It always gets her in the end, blindsided at the right time for maximum destruction of her emotional state .
All that she can do for now is draw her eyes away from his. Hobgoblin presses further into her stomach and water creeps onto both of them.
“I’m aware. There’s two more in the Throat: Tyrath and Astarot. I don’t think he thinks before he beds women. He’ll do anything to please himself, but he’s too childish to deserve it.” Ears droop at the women he’s chosen to carry his children. One who beats her children, one who cannot readily shoulder the weight of her son’s distaste and hatred, his cold heart a boulder atop her glued-back-together glass one, ugly, trying to be warm and welcoming as it breaks away at itself, another who doesn’t even care about her fucking son because HOW does a woman who dares to pride herself in calling herself a mother just leave her son out in the desert to die, and one who might just be the best of them, one she doesn’t have much to say on but guesses is well off as a mother.
Teeth sink her damp hide and glaze skin, a tail slapping her hips and stomach as she thinks. Kid has decided to join them, and for that, she’s thankful.
When his body is near to her’s, she extends her muzzle, searching out for a shoulder or a piece of mane or anything, looking for a place to quietly groom him as he speaks.
He starts off the conversation with something she has never expected. It reaches into her chest and tears holes like she’s open-ribbed as a wraith, snatching her heart and squeezing it shut. She doesn’t let the pain wash over her, but her ears sag in response. Hobgoblin’s head raises from his lazily, half-assed slumber, yellow eyes sinking back into sleep, searching out her face. A need to know overtakes him.
“Okay?”
I don’t know.
“Hobgoblin save?”
The idea of Hobgoblin lashing out and attacking Kid out of Sikeax’s wounds makes her sink. She’d be just as bad as anyone else if she let him do that without stopping him. The odd feeling that sometimes comes in her bones right before he changes shape draws itself up, but doesn’t go any further, as if to wait for cue.
I’ll be fine.
His head dips back down, never fully returning to sleep, large ears held up to listen to every bit of their conversation.
A long sigh breaks the quiet. “I don’t know if you’ll understand, but you can’t control what other people become. Zhu isn’t mine to make, he’s his own person. I did try though, to make sure he was polite and had manners.” Her voice creeps out of her like the waves touch the beach down on her island home: soft, lazily, a feeling of discomfort that is difficult to place a real finger on. “Sometimes as a parent, you have to let your children be what they want to be. That’s what I did with him. I don’t strongly approve of what he’s becoming, but I’m proud of him and nothing will stop me from loving him and feeling that way.”
She hopes it makes some sort of sense because after that, there could be no other way to word it. That was just the way it was, and the way it would be.
OOC: Hobgoblin turns into his serval form when mentioned.
when both us knew how the end always is
you were angels,
so much more than everything
:: please tag me
:: minor force and power play allowed
