Theea
resilient little thing, just like mama raised you
The way he looks at me—it’s not really me, not at first. I see it in the flicker of his eyes, the quick shift like he’s caught between this moment and another. And I know. It’s her he’s seeing. My mother, stepping out of the sun and into his memory.
I can’t blame him. But it still makes my stomach twist with a feeling I can’t name.
I look down for a second, then back up as he speaks, grateful when the moment slips past like a breeze. When he calls it a training arena, something old becoming something new, my eyes brighten despite myself. I glance past him to the building again—ruined, sure, but promising. It has that waiting for its next chapter look.
“A training arena,” I echo, stepping closer, letting my grin tug back into place. “That’s kind of perfect. I’ve been looking for somewhere to train. Preferably with fewer wild animals and more roof. And... No punching bags for me.” A beat, looking at the hole in the roof. “Though I won’t be picky about the roof.”
Then he stops, pivots, and offers his hand with that easy kind of charm people always talk about when they mention him. I take it before I can overthink it.
Mine’s trembling. Fantastic.
“Theea,” I say, as if he doesn’t already know. I squeeze his hand once, firm like I practiced, even though my heart’s doing a small war drum impression. “But yeah, you probably guessed that. Mom—Ashe—always called you my uncle. She never stopped calling you her brother—capital B, very official.”
And then it spills out before I can catch it.
“I’ve been really excited to meet you.” The silence after is about a second too long, and I can feel my face heating up. So I cover it the only way I know how—“No pressure or anything, but you’re basically a living legend in my life, so if I pass out, that’s why.”
I flash him a crooked, self-deprecating grin.
I can’t blame him. But it still makes my stomach twist with a feeling I can’t name.
I look down for a second, then back up as he speaks, grateful when the moment slips past like a breeze. When he calls it a training arena, something old becoming something new, my eyes brighten despite myself. I glance past him to the building again—ruined, sure, but promising. It has that waiting for its next chapter look.
“A training arena,” I echo, stepping closer, letting my grin tug back into place. “That’s kind of perfect. I’ve been looking for somewhere to train. Preferably with fewer wild animals and more roof. And... No punching bags for me.” A beat, looking at the hole in the roof. “Though I won’t be picky about the roof.”
Then he stops, pivots, and offers his hand with that easy kind of charm people always talk about when they mention him. I take it before I can overthink it.
Mine’s trembling. Fantastic.
“Theea,” I say, as if he doesn’t already know. I squeeze his hand once, firm like I practiced, even though my heart’s doing a small war drum impression. “But yeah, you probably guessed that. Mom—Ashe—always called you my uncle. She never stopped calling you her brother—capital B, very official.”
And then it spills out before I can catch it.
“I’ve been really excited to meet you.” The silence after is about a second too long, and I can feel my face heating up. So I cover it the only way I know how—“No pressure or anything, but you’re basically a living legend in my life, so if I pass out, that’s why.”
I flash him a crooked, self-deprecating grin.
so you got that wildfire in your soul
don't you ever let it go
make it burn so bright that they all know
don't you ever let it go
make it burn so bright that they all know
