dear to me i know; rapt

[rapt]

there is a dream in the space between the hammer and the nail ------ the dream of about-to-be-hit, which is a bad dream ------------ but the nail will take the hit if it gets to sleep inside the wood forever Abysm knows him well, but there’s a part he doesn’t. Rapt has never told his son about his time spent with the monster-king – how could he? What way is there to tell your son, he hurt me and I liked it? He hurt me and I only wanted more? No, there are some things that must be kept from children. Some secrets kept buried. So it’s not a lie, exactly, that he lets Abysm believe all his sadness stems from Kagerus’s abdication of their family. Plenty of it does. He’s cauterized his own wounds well enough, but there will always be a sludge of anger and sadness at her for leaving Abysm. His own abandonment was expected – a given, really. But not their son. Not the perfect mix of them. He’s glad, when Abysm materializes, stepping from dreams into the corporeal. Rapt smiles, genuine, returns the affection, savoring his son’s scent, the way his coat feels beneath his muzzle. He’s not prepare for the question, though, and freezes when it’s posed to him. “Abysm…” he sighs, “I don’t hate her. She hurt me, and she hurt our family, but I don’t hate her.” Nor has he forgiven her – but he tells the truth. Perhaps he lacks the capacity for hate, or perhaps he could never hate her for what she gave him (she will always be Abysm’s mother, after all). He tucks his chin over the boy’s neck, draws him closer. It’s no longer the easy motion it was when he was smaller, but he manages nonetheless. “She’s still your mother,” he says, “and she’s trying to make up for what she did.” That, too, is true enough. It is not enough for him to forgive, but that doesn’t matter, not in the larger scheme of things. rapt caius x else