Jinju;

[Ruan]

ruan

He saw pain in her eyes, a suffering darken her beautiful face. It would find its match hidden in the dark grey of his. He didn't need words or explanations. Ander was gone. Perhaps dead, perhaps living. But nonetheless gone. The details didn't matter. His beautiful grandson was as gone as his own brood.

Perhaps never to return.

He had failed his daughter. His family. He wished the magic could've been better controlled, ensured that he hadn't missed so much. She was younger now and that was another magic, he was certain. He hoped not of his wife's doing, though why would she ever bother with any of them anymore? Besides, it was him she had a problem with. Not their first child she herself had brought home.

When she paused, hesitated as he opened himself to her, he knew she must've survived so much more than he could imagine. Look how strong she was, showing all her pain and ache and fears, and instead of running into his arms she stood strong.

But she didn't have to anymore.

His eyes softened, and he met her with a cold breath as she reached out. "Dad." He smiled from his eyes, a sadness that went soul-deep for all the hurt they'd both gone through. Everything they had survived as the gathered their shattered pieces time and time again to drag them along with them in life. Sometimes she'd held more of his, and sometimes he'd held more of hers. Together they carried them. Together they grew stronger.

He found himself smiling back, finally in his lips this time, as her own lifted. A light flared to life in her gaze, and she bounded forward and spun, tucking herself in next to him where she used to be, where he used to settle his large wing over her so safely. He bent his head to her, craning his neck to brush velvet on velvet as his eyes closed, sheltering her from how badly he'd needed this.

He would always need her.

She confirmed in words then that Ander was alive, only didn't need his parents anymore. It was another ache to add to the rest, but he nodded. He understood. His own hadn't needed him either. He understood. He knew that pain. And he was so sorry she had ever had to feel it for herself.

"I.. died when Taiga fell.. And was reborn from the ashes." His ears pinned back and his head jerked higher. She hadn't meant it figuratively, he could tell by not only her age but the mournful sound to her voice. He didn't like imagining that she would ever die before him. That wasn't how it was supposed to be, a child before a parent. But she was here now. And perhaps that meant she would never truly be gone from him.

He softened again, relaxed slightly. The feral rage was so near, spiking with indignation at her comment that Taiga had fallen. Even after everything, these trees still stood strong, if scarred. Like them. In their stubbornness to survive, they had given life to more trees, and more beasts, and would one day be a better Taiga than the one before. That fog still rolled in at night, fed by the sea that craved to land on the shore.

"Our home still stands."
And they would keep it that way.
As they always had.

Faith and loyalty had seen them through everything. Even the numerous betrayals of those not strong enough for it. Like the fairies themselves.

He held her quietly then, soaking in the peace he found in her company.