11-20-2019, 03:37 PM
OPHANIM
He stumbles as he walks, his color draining into a drab sort of gray that offers no shine even in the warm spring sun. The tattoos across his face turn black but he seems unaware of it. His eyes are too blurred with tears as he returns home to his children and his wife. Deep, heaving sobs rattle through him when he manages to see find Malone through his blurry, tear-soaked vision. The boy knows his father doesn’t cry very often and so he rushes to meet him, at which point the angel boy collapses against his son’s shoulder. The star child folds his wings out and forward to embrace his father tightly.
“Dad, Dad what’s wrong? What happened?” he begs without loosening his grip. But Ophanim only continues to weep and gasp for breath in response. The younger male hesitates, afraid of what he might see, but he dips into his father’s thoughts and pulls the images from his mind. He sees the missing stump that was once a wing and the torn throat that paints a blue mare’s chest bright red. He sees the claw marks marring her entire body and he gags at the sight. Jenova. Grandmother. She always came to visit them in the spring, he remembers.
“Mom!” he cries out, his own eyes suddenly filling with tears as he leans his head over Ophanim’s. She had always been so kind and caring, delighted to see all of them no matter the trouble they had caused while she was away. No one deserved to be torn apart the way she was, he thinks. Especially not her. “Mom, it’s Grandmother. Something.. something got her.”
And the words summon a new wave of anguish that sends Ophanim to his knees, wings drooping at his sides. He should have asked her to stay with them instead of leading her solitary, nomadic life. He should have said how much he loved her and done it often. His lamentations come, one after another, and consume his mind while Malone can only bury his face against his father’s shoulder.
“Dad, Dad what’s wrong? What happened?” he begs without loosening his grip. But Ophanim only continues to weep and gasp for breath in response. The younger male hesitates, afraid of what he might see, but he dips into his father’s thoughts and pulls the images from his mind. He sees the missing stump that was once a wing and the torn throat that paints a blue mare’s chest bright red. He sees the claw marks marring her entire body and he gags at the sight. Jenova. Grandmother. She always came to visit them in the spring, he remembers.
“Mom!” he cries out, his own eyes suddenly filling with tears as he leans his head over Ophanim’s. She had always been so kind and caring, delighted to see all of them no matter the trouble they had caused while she was away. No one deserved to be torn apart the way she was, he thinks. Especially not her. “Mom, it’s Grandmother. Something.. something got her.”
And the words summon a new wave of anguish that sends Ophanim to his knees, wings drooping at his sides. He should have asked her to stay with them instead of leading her solitary, nomadic life. He should have said how much he loved her and done it often. His lamentations come, one after another, and consume his mind while Malone can only bury his face against his father’s shoulder.
you could drown in those eyes, i said.