12-16-2018, 08:35 PM
There is still some sense of strangeness that this boy came from her. So small and soft and feline, so sweet as he lands on her back with his little paws kneading her skin. He seems too good, too gentle, too unlike her, and she wonders once again at what kind of a man his father must have been. Wonders if she is wrong to try and keep the boy from him, offer them no opportunity to know one another. It seems wrong now, especially while she has been so absent from him for so long.
He spills down her side and for a moment she feels a flair of panic, drops her shoulder low so the ground is not so far. But he twists with a grace she knows all too well, landing on paws that shift suddenly into hooves and long legs and the body of the boy she had birthed. A body that looked so much like hers, blue and bright and so beautiful.
She is selfish that way, broken, loves when they look like her and not the men who aren’t Killdare.
In an instant he is pressed against her chest with his face buried in the gem-bright blue of her neck. She folds her neck over him, drags him close with her chin, turns her face so that her cheek is pressed to him. “Hi baby,” she murmurs against his cheek, nuzzles quiet little kisses against the curve of his jaw. “I missed you too, so much.” She makes no effort to let go of him, just holds him close and steady, showers him with soft affections and all the kisses they missed out on in the time she’s been gone. “Do you mind if I stay here with you for a few days, love?” It is a warning masked by a promise. The promise to stay, the reminder that it can’t be forever. “Maybe you can show me all your favorite places here, and I’ll show you mine.”
He spills down her side and for a moment she feels a flair of panic, drops her shoulder low so the ground is not so far. But he twists with a grace she knows all too well, landing on paws that shift suddenly into hooves and long legs and the body of the boy she had birthed. A body that looked so much like hers, blue and bright and so beautiful.
She is selfish that way, broken, loves when they look like her and not the men who aren’t Killdare.
In an instant he is pressed against her chest with his face buried in the gem-bright blue of her neck. She folds her neck over him, drags him close with her chin, turns her face so that her cheek is pressed to him. “Hi baby,” she murmurs against his cheek, nuzzles quiet little kisses against the curve of his jaw. “I missed you too, so much.” She makes no effort to let go of him, just holds him close and steady, showers him with soft affections and all the kisses they missed out on in the time she’s been gone. “Do you mind if I stay here with you for a few days, love?” It is a warning masked by a promise. The promise to stay, the reminder that it can’t be forever. “Maybe you can show me all your favorite places here, and I’ll show you mine.”