04-23-2016, 04:37 PM
Now that I have finally started to believe this family is mine, it is so easy to fall into them, to curl up against Isle's chest while she plays with my mane, to coax songs out of little Mari. To wrap myself around Argo and make up bedtime stories with him while we fall asleep. I hope he dreams of them, and that sometimes when he sleeps he forgets his body's limitations and runs wild, frolicking and leaping the way Mari can. The way I could if I ever felt drawn to.
I see the quiet ache in his bright eyes when he watches her sometimes, because I know what it is to yearn for something impossible. So sometimes our stories are tales of daring and adventure that I hope might follow him into his sleep. But most of our heroes are quieter, gentler, saving the day through the strength of their spirit, or the height of their cunning, or the depth of their love. More often than not, our sleepy voices trail off long before the world is saved or the foe is vanquished, or the boy befriends the lonely dragon who never meant to scare anyone, it was just the pollen made him sneeze so! And he was really very sorry about the fire, but every time he tried to apologize, people screamed and ran away from him.
I bet Offspring would make an excellent dragon, if we switched out the fire for ice. Maybe we can play the rest of that story tomorrow instead of telling it while we fall asleep.
Oh, sometimes I drift off first, but Argo tires more easily than I do, and...and even though I am so lucky, and happier than I have ever been...I don't always sleep very well. As faded as that old desperate yearning in my chest has become, I still lie awake more nights than I care to admit, fighting not to feel...disposable. Fighting to not believe even a little bit that I don't deserve to be here, that I don't deserve all the love they have given me so freely. Fighting shadows that burrowed their way into my soul a long time ago and still refuse to be banished entirely.
Tonight is a night like that, one where even surrounded by so much love, I can feel them creeping underneath my skin, stirring in the hollow of my chest. Argo sleeps beside me, nestled into my warmth, and I wrap myself around him to give as much of it to him as I can. The nights are getting colder, and as lovely as the starlight is, I think we may need to find a cozier place to sleep with winter closing in. And...and if I'm being honest? The rise and fall of his chest, the off-kilter beat of his heart, just having him to hold onto is the best weapon I have to fend off some of those shadows.
“Offspring?” I ask tentatively, my voice barely above a whisper so I don't wake Argo. “How...how does magic work?” We've been telling stories, and in stories magic can work however you want it to. But there is real magic too, like the kind that makes ice encrust his skin. “Yours is because you're the king, right? But there are other kinds too, aren't there?” My eyes seek out his in the dim light of the crescent moon, a fleeting glance before darting away again. “Can...can you tell me about them, please?”
I see the quiet ache in his bright eyes when he watches her sometimes, because I know what it is to yearn for something impossible. So sometimes our stories are tales of daring and adventure that I hope might follow him into his sleep. But most of our heroes are quieter, gentler, saving the day through the strength of their spirit, or the height of their cunning, or the depth of their love. More often than not, our sleepy voices trail off long before the world is saved or the foe is vanquished, or the boy befriends the lonely dragon who never meant to scare anyone, it was just the pollen made him sneeze so! And he was really very sorry about the fire, but every time he tried to apologize, people screamed and ran away from him.
I bet Offspring would make an excellent dragon, if we switched out the fire for ice. Maybe we can play the rest of that story tomorrow instead of telling it while we fall asleep.
Oh, sometimes I drift off first, but Argo tires more easily than I do, and...and even though I am so lucky, and happier than I have ever been...I don't always sleep very well. As faded as that old desperate yearning in my chest has become, I still lie awake more nights than I care to admit, fighting not to feel...disposable. Fighting to not believe even a little bit that I don't deserve to be here, that I don't deserve all the love they have given me so freely. Fighting shadows that burrowed their way into my soul a long time ago and still refuse to be banished entirely.
Tonight is a night like that, one where even surrounded by so much love, I can feel them creeping underneath my skin, stirring in the hollow of my chest. Argo sleeps beside me, nestled into my warmth, and I wrap myself around him to give as much of it to him as I can. The nights are getting colder, and as lovely as the starlight is, I think we may need to find a cozier place to sleep with winter closing in. And...and if I'm being honest? The rise and fall of his chest, the off-kilter beat of his heart, just having him to hold onto is the best weapon I have to fend off some of those shadows.
“Offspring?” I ask tentatively, my voice barely above a whisper so I don't wake Argo. “How...how does magic work?” We've been telling stories, and in stories magic can work however you want it to. But there is real magic too, like the kind that makes ice encrust his skin. “Yours is because you're the king, right? But there are other kinds too, aren't there?” My eyes seek out his in the dim light of the crescent moon, a fleeting glance before darting away again. “Can...can you tell me about them, please?”