11-15-2019, 09:57 PM
elio
gone was the way we were, just like the days we'd burn
The gift of his mother is what has always protected Elio. From the magic she passed on to the fierce way she looks at him, Lepis has always been his rock. He thinks that in the end, his mother will always be the most stable rock he may cling to. This family she has built around him, this family she has built in his head—it molds the dangerously loyal and quiet boy he is becoming.
And yet, it lacks the hero of so many of those stories: his father.
Elio cannot say he hates Wolfbane, or that he even has any particular negative feeling—but that wonderment he felt upon their first meeting has certainly slipped away. Now, he sees a distant and frightening man, even if Bane’s behavior is not outwardly aggressive. Being the intuitive creature his emotional projections force him to be, he can see something is not right between his parents. If it was not the juxtaposition of the actions of the legend with the actions of the man, it was the complete lack of seeing his parents love each other. The Wolfbane of his mother’s carefully woven stories was valiant, protective, and affectionate. This one . . . this one’s smile did not meet his eyes. This one—outside of his thoughts, Elio shakes his head in frustration and pain—he cannot bring his heart to swell for him like it did for his absence.
He tries so hard to reconcile the myth with the man, but he is so young, and it takes all of his energy just to not shoot his feelings all over the place.
It is in these moments that he wishes his mother would brush his mind clean with a sweep of her peace. It is in these moments that he wonders why he cannot go back to when the only reason he cried was over a knocked head.
He feels small, so small, like a gasping babe freshly born.
A world spins and spins in his head, passing and passing by, all while he tucks his wings quietly against a tree.
And yet, it lacks the hero of so many of those stories: his father.
Elio cannot say he hates Wolfbane, or that he even has any particular negative feeling—but that wonderment he felt upon their first meeting has certainly slipped away. Now, he sees a distant and frightening man, even if Bane’s behavior is not outwardly aggressive. Being the intuitive creature his emotional projections force him to be, he can see something is not right between his parents. If it was not the juxtaposition of the actions of the legend with the actions of the man, it was the complete lack of seeing his parents love each other. The Wolfbane of his mother’s carefully woven stories was valiant, protective, and affectionate. This one . . . this one’s smile did not meet his eyes. This one—outside of his thoughts, Elio shakes his head in frustration and pain—he cannot bring his heart to swell for him like it did for his absence.
He tries so hard to reconcile the myth with the man, but he is so young, and it takes all of his energy just to not shoot his feelings all over the place.
It is in these moments that he wishes his mother would brush his mind clean with a sweep of her peace. It is in these moments that he wonders why he cannot go back to when the only reason he cried was over a knocked head.
He feels small, so small, like a gasping babe freshly born.
A world spins and spins in his head, passing and passing by, all while he tucks his wings quietly against a tree.
@[Lepis] <3