Mom might be right - any

[Offspring]

something has been taken from deep inside of me;
the secret I've kept locked away no one can ever see.

  He had lived what felt like a thousand lifetimes, each carefully layered and interlaced with one another, with little else but wistful memories and tired, aching bones to show for a life lived beyond its means. He had loved, and he had lost – he had children, grandchildren; many of which he had never known. A low, rolling pang of guilt lingers in the pit of his stomach as his dark, searing eyes rove across her solid breastplate, and along the solid, muscled curve of her shoulder – Spear, and Spark, and Moment as well had all known of him – had sought him out in their youth, seeking some semblance of his presence in their lives.

  His heart was spoken for, but self-loathing and a longing for reassurance had led him more than once into the comforting embrace of another, even if only beneath the pale moonlight and only for a short time. Though weary and worn, a thin tendril of lust still courses through him, and it has drowned out his logic and guilt more than a time or two. The glimmering spark of the glowing ember inside of his daughter’s burning eyes remind him of these times – he is nothing more than a simple man, and he too has weaknesses.

  Though she is so much of him in so many ways, she is vividly striking and beautiful in a way that he never had been, nor ever would be. There is a commanding presence in her rigid stance, and a grace lining the soft curve of her cheek – he does not know her (in fact, he only knew of her name because of the peculiar force standing before them now), but a swelling of pride has already begun to fill his chest cavity with each passing moment.

  Alas, it is fleeting, and his attention is drawn away from her by the crackling of weight pressing on dried leaves as the creature moves closer. The antlers disappear, and soon a thick set of fangs protrude from the doe, and it is then that he sees the blood seeping from her skin as she weakly presses her frame against an old, wiry oak. The word cauterize brushes the surface of his thoughts, and the burning flame inside of him flickers.

  With a brief, wayward glance towards Jinju, he moves towards the multitude of swirling colors, deliberately stepping in front of her to keep her from the doe, who is all but foaming at the mouth.  While she was still not his to protect (and never would be), the life that is stirring within her is a steady, driving force, and though he is hesitant, he presses his broad forehead onto the open wound, slowly tracing it down the length of her body. Though the fire inside of him is contained, it is burning more brightly than it ever as, and his skin has become scalding hot to the touch – and with a few brief moments of contact, her bleeding wound is sealed, and he is searching her delicate face for a reaction.

  Gently, her blood trickles down his forehead, matching the dark, dangerous red of his eyes.

wounds so deep they never show; they never go away.
like moving pictures in my head, for years and years they've played.

Offspring