06-29-2017, 05:42 PM
Each time his gaze cut to hers, she froze. Like a doe caught with a predator. And her eyes would go just a little wider. A blush would color her face. Just as it did now, but this time it was in apology, embarrassment, when he carefully extracted himself from beneath her innocent touch. He was sorry to cause that reaction, but he'd needed to be free of the contact. It hurt too badly.
“I'm so sorry,” she breathed, ducking her head and looking away, looking at anything but him. “I shouldn't have, I didn't mean to - “ He gave the barest hint of a nod in understanding, but he didn't really have to as her eyes finally lifted again to him, and his pain was there for her to see whether he wished it or no. She hadn't done it on purpose. To anyone else, her gentle touch probably would have been welcomed. Maybe he was the one that should have been apologizing for making her doubt herself.
He nodded again, that she could stay here for a while, and slowly gifted her a taste of his winter. That was really what she wanted anyway. Her chin lifted with a soft smile to welcome it, and he almost smiled too, just an added hint of warmth in his eyes at her enjoyment. Then her eyes opened to find him again. She turned that warm smile on him, and reached to kiss his nose in quiet thanks.
He broke that moment, the one that felt too good, too nice, was too welcome, and directed her attention to Polaris. “I haven't,” she admitted. The glassy child was as rare to her as she was to him, and a small smile found the corner of his mouth. “She's beautiful though. She's lucky it was you that found her.” He nodded, still watching his baby sleep, knowing that for the simple truth that it was. He may not have been a good husband, or lover, or leader, but he knew he had always been a good father. He'd always loved children, always hoped to have his own. Now he did.
But he really didn't.
And probably wouldn't again.
His brief joy slid away and was replaced with a mask that was carefully passive, reminded of why he'd been in the state she'd found him in. Quietly weeping over his sleeping baby, mourning his painful losses along with the death of a future. His wife, his children, his life. He tucked his nose to Polaris again, shifting his legs and body a little to cradle her in closer if it were even possible. He found such comfort in this fragile little thing that still had yet to speak with her voice.
“Do you always hold so tight to the lost souls you come across?” the woman asked him. Australis, he remembered. There was something in her voice though, and there in her eyes when he looked up, that whatever he was going to say instantly left him. He studied those forest-wood eyes, eyed the delicate lines of her face, trying to understand what she was really asking. But he'd never been good at that, and took the question as it was.
“Perhaps not tight enough,” he replied vaguely, his gaze falling. Had he held tighter, no matter that he hadn't been in the wrong, maybe he wouldn't have found her with another man. “It is tragic.. the way one’s mistake can devastate so many lives and yet they walk, they carry on and it never affects them.” He spoke quietly, sadly, holding his gaze on Polaris though he hadn't been speaking of her. He did so now.
“Someone abandoned her, made her feel worthless and unwanted when she should be cherished. They probably don't even think of her, too busy with their own lives and what they want.”
He hadn't meant to draw parallels, though it didn't make it any less true. Polaris deserved better. He deserved better, too. He was content in that she had found her better in him, he would always be her better. And as a father, he was getting better too.
“I'm so sorry,” she breathed, ducking her head and looking away, looking at anything but him. “I shouldn't have, I didn't mean to - “ He gave the barest hint of a nod in understanding, but he didn't really have to as her eyes finally lifted again to him, and his pain was there for her to see whether he wished it or no. She hadn't done it on purpose. To anyone else, her gentle touch probably would have been welcomed. Maybe he was the one that should have been apologizing for making her doubt herself.
He nodded again, that she could stay here for a while, and slowly gifted her a taste of his winter. That was really what she wanted anyway. Her chin lifted with a soft smile to welcome it, and he almost smiled too, just an added hint of warmth in his eyes at her enjoyment. Then her eyes opened to find him again. She turned that warm smile on him, and reached to kiss his nose in quiet thanks.
He broke that moment, the one that felt too good, too nice, was too welcome, and directed her attention to Polaris. “I haven't,” she admitted. The glassy child was as rare to her as she was to him, and a small smile found the corner of his mouth. “She's beautiful though. She's lucky it was you that found her.” He nodded, still watching his baby sleep, knowing that for the simple truth that it was. He may not have been a good husband, or lover, or leader, but he knew he had always been a good father. He'd always loved children, always hoped to have his own. Now he did.
But he really didn't.
And probably wouldn't again.
His brief joy slid away and was replaced with a mask that was carefully passive, reminded of why he'd been in the state she'd found him in. Quietly weeping over his sleeping baby, mourning his painful losses along with the death of a future. His wife, his children, his life. He tucked his nose to Polaris again, shifting his legs and body a little to cradle her in closer if it were even possible. He found such comfort in this fragile little thing that still had yet to speak with her voice.
“Do you always hold so tight to the lost souls you come across?” the woman asked him. Australis, he remembered. There was something in her voice though, and there in her eyes when he looked up, that whatever he was going to say instantly left him. He studied those forest-wood eyes, eyed the delicate lines of her face, trying to understand what she was really asking. But he'd never been good at that, and took the question as it was.
“Perhaps not tight enough,” he replied vaguely, his gaze falling. Had he held tighter, no matter that he hadn't been in the wrong, maybe he wouldn't have found her with another man. “It is tragic.. the way one’s mistake can devastate so many lives and yet they walk, they carry on and it never affects them.” He spoke quietly, sadly, holding his gaze on Polaris though he hadn't been speaking of her. He did so now.
“Someone abandoned her, made her feel worthless and unwanted when she should be cherished. They probably don't even think of her, too busy with their own lives and what they want.”
He hadn't meant to draw parallels, though it didn't make it any less true. Polaris deserved better. He deserved better, too. He was content in that she had found her better in him, he would always be her better. And as a father, he was getting better too.
