07-25-2016, 07:29 PM
"Evil requires no reason."
I don't even know how to express these feelings without hurting someone. So I cuddle up against my son and I wait. My ears flicker now and again when his breathing changes or when there is a crunching and crackling of movement somewhere in the Trails. This causes the guardian (another part of me) to growl and snarl, lunging that way only to return empty pawed. It was nothing but random wildlife of course, but he was too tense from the worry over our boy. I can't say I blame him (us...me). If I didn't have a tighter control on myself I would be snarling and growling right next to him.
Or out and killing whoever I could reach.
He wakes up once, and I listen to his heart beat and the gentle rasp of his breathing. I don't bother to move, my head and neck still holding him close. The muscles there have long since become numb to the pain from staying in one clenched spot for so long. But I have checked out myself. Imaging all kinds of realities where I find who victimized Tycho and so the same and so much more to him. It almost brings me a kind of pleasure to imagine these. But I have to stop myself and rewind a little.
Ryss would want to be there too.
So all my next fantasies are with her there in her glorious anger. This softens the lines in my face a little, allows my tense muscles to relax. Thinking of her, always brings out a softness in me.
Only when he stirs again, do I move. The pain, the worry, all of it coming back so he could read it like a book on my face. I don't have the energy to hide it, to keep my pain from him. So I don't. I adjust myself so he can do the same and my nose touches his side, his shoulder, anger burning as my lips trace one of his new scars. (The ones on my haunches burn in response and I almost let loose the growl I was holding) His voice calms me, however briefly, and I nod slightly, but still say little. I...couldn't. If I opened my mouth all kinds of emotion would fall out.
Hell I might even cry.
So I just touch him, just assure myself that he is okay as I listen to his breathing, to the beating of his heart, to the rumbles of his voice in his chest and throat. And those words, those tiny words break my heart and make me laugh a little all at once. "Understatement son." And I want to ask, to demand answers from him. If he wasn't my son I would crack open his mind and let them all bleed over the ground. But he was my son, and I would sooner harm myself than let anything happen to him. "Does it hurt still?"
Or out and killing whoever I could reach.
He wakes up once, and I listen to his heart beat and the gentle rasp of his breathing. I don't bother to move, my head and neck still holding him close. The muscles there have long since become numb to the pain from staying in one clenched spot for so long. But I have checked out myself. Imaging all kinds of realities where I find who victimized Tycho and so the same and so much more to him. It almost brings me a kind of pleasure to imagine these. But I have to stop myself and rewind a little.
Ryss would want to be there too.
So all my next fantasies are with her there in her glorious anger. This softens the lines in my face a little, allows my tense muscles to relax. Thinking of her, always brings out a softness in me.
Only when he stirs again, do I move. The pain, the worry, all of it coming back so he could read it like a book on my face. I don't have the energy to hide it, to keep my pain from him. So I don't. I adjust myself so he can do the same and my nose touches his side, his shoulder, anger burning as my lips trace one of his new scars. (The ones on my haunches burn in response and I almost let loose the growl I was holding) His voice calms me, however briefly, and I nod slightly, but still say little. I...couldn't. If I opened my mouth all kinds of emotion would fall out.
Hell I might even cry.
So I just touch him, just assure myself that he is okay as I listen to his breathing, to the beating of his heart, to the rumbles of his voice in his chest and throat. And those words, those tiny words break my heart and make me laugh a little all at once. "Understatement son." And I want to ask, to demand answers from him. If he wasn't my son I would crack open his mind and let them all bleed over the ground. But he was my son, and I would sooner harm myself than let anything happen to him. "Does it hurt still?"
pazuzu