So many precious lives were being born these few weeks. Birth, the creation only a mother could bring, was the greatest, truest magic. He'd always believed so.
But it hurt like hell this time.
So he hummed over the distant sounds of labor, a low, lilting lullaby to his child that was already deep into sleep. She couldn't possibly hear him anymore in her world of dreams, tucked and cradled safely in his side, but he did it anyway. Did it for himself, perhaps. Family was everything to him. He'd lost his own, every last one of them, without even knowing it while he was away. His mother. His sister that raised him. He never even knew, until the magic had told him.
Now, he was losing all over again. His wife was gone. His only son, only child of his own. His wild girl, Terra. Even his sunny girl who had once been so sweet and caring, was now gone. But he had Jinju, would always have Jinju. Loyalty and family meant something to her, and she saved his life in a way she couldn't understand. And now this little one, another plucked from the grasp of the forest and brought home to enjoy the safety of their home. His family was gone. He wouldn't have the gift of his own children anymore, but he had her, and he had his daughter of fire. Neither were even of his own blood, but they loved him the most of anyone.
He wouldn't have his own anymore.
Family had always meant so impossibly much to him.
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral..
The rumble of his quiet humming vibrated over the sharp burn in his throat, the sting in his nose. The painful shards of his shattered heart. And here, entirely alone with this glassy child so safely asleep, so silently far away in her precious mind... he wept openly.
Hot tears slipped silently down his dark cheeks, supernaturally bright eyes glimmering with his heartache as he stared down at her. He tucked his chin against her, holding her to him as he gently rocked them. His broken lullaby was a choking murmur buried in her neck, but he couldn't seem to stop. He didn't want to hear the first cries of strangers' newborn children. Those sweet little faces he knew would be turning to nose for their mother's milk, faces that would be licked clean by loving mothers.
His goddamn Winter made it snow over them, wild and drizzling in answer to his pain. It stuck to his purple-dappled skin, but slid harmlessly down her glassy surface. He was still the heart of this Taiga. And this heart was broken.
Too-ra-loo-ra-li
But it hurt like hell this time.
So he hummed over the distant sounds of labor, a low, lilting lullaby to his child that was already deep into sleep. She couldn't possibly hear him anymore in her world of dreams, tucked and cradled safely in his side, but he did it anyway. Did it for himself, perhaps. Family was everything to him. He'd lost his own, every last one of them, without even knowing it while he was away. His mother. His sister that raised him. He never even knew, until the magic had told him.
Now, he was losing all over again. His wife was gone. His only son, only child of his own. His wild girl, Terra. Even his sunny girl who had once been so sweet and caring, was now gone. But he had Jinju, would always have Jinju. Loyalty and family meant something to her, and she saved his life in a way she couldn't understand. And now this little one, another plucked from the grasp of the forest and brought home to enjoy the safety of their home. His family was gone. He wouldn't have the gift of his own children anymore, but he had her, and he had his daughter of fire. Neither were even of his own blood, but they loved him the most of anyone.
He wouldn't have his own anymore.
Family had always meant so impossibly much to him.
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral..
The rumble of his quiet humming vibrated over the sharp burn in his throat, the sting in his nose. The painful shards of his shattered heart. And here, entirely alone with this glassy child so safely asleep, so silently far away in her precious mind... he wept openly.
Hot tears slipped silently down his dark cheeks, supernaturally bright eyes glimmering with his heartache as he stared down at her. He tucked his chin against her, holding her to him as he gently rocked them. His broken lullaby was a choking murmur buried in her neck, but he couldn't seem to stop. He didn't want to hear the first cries of strangers' newborn children. Those sweet little faces he knew would be turning to nose for their mother's milk, faces that would be licked clean by loving mothers.
His goddamn Winter made it snow over them, wild and drizzling in answer to his pain. It stuck to his purple-dappled skin, but slid harmlessly down her glassy surface. He was still the heart of this Taiga. And this heart was broken.
Too-ra-loo-ra-li