They are never okay, maybe, the two of them – perhaps it is what has drawn them. Perhaps it is why she hasn’t left, even though he keeps expecting her to, because why should she stay? What does he offer, he with his self-loathing and now this child, son of a dark god and entirely unintended.
(None of it had been intended, but it’s not as if he’d been forced – no, the dark god had been there reeking of magic and stardust and something heavy and wanting had twisted within him, and so he had gone to him, offering to him what he could, and the god had taken his pound of flesh and that was all that she wrote.)
Still – he is glad at the rest of her words. I missed you.
“I missed you too,” he says, and he dares to touch her then, his muzzle against her neck. She is warm and familiar and he isn’t ready for the way his heart lurches upon contact, isn’t ready for how he almost wants to weep at the feel of her skin.
Not okay, but better. She makes him better.
He withdraws – reluctant – and glances at his son again. He wonders if the parentage is obvious – he has heard stories of the galaxy-strewn god, even before seeing him in the flesh – or if that’s his confession to make. He’ll know soon enough, he figures, but now there’s another confession.
“His name is Bad,’ he says, and his voice is rightfully abashed. It’s a terrible name for a child, he knows, but it had been the first word to cross his mind upon the boy’s birth, and besides, it seems to run in the family.
“It was the first thing I thought, when I saw him – not that he’s bad, but…the situation is a strange one.”
He manages to smile, sheepish.
“It’s a good thing you named Maze. I don’t think it’s my strong suit.”
@[Agetta]