Theea
resilient little thing, just like mama raised you
My smile flickers again at the warmth in his voice—the easy kind of laughter that belongs to someone who’s lived through fire and still finds reasons to laugh anyway. There’s something comforting about it. Like maybe I’m not so far from home after all.
When he calls my mother’s thinking silly, I let out a quiet breath. Not quite a laugh, but close. It’s nice to hear someone else say it—like I’m not the only one who still sees the good in her, even if she can’t always see it in herself.
“I’ve been leaving messages,” I say softly, rubbing the back of my neck. “In places I know she goes. Little notes, tucked away where only she’d find them.”
I almost say it. Almost blurt out that I asked her to come to the anniversary party, that maybe—just maybe—she’ll be there. But I hesitate. I don’t know how much Ronin knows. If he’s been told. If he’s involved. If it would complicate something.
So instead, I pivot just slightly, eyes back on him.
“They disappear, usually. So I think she gets them. Remi said he’d give me a feather next time, to send with the note.” My voice is a little quieter again. “Something soft to remind her she’s still wanted.”
I let the moment settle, then pull myself up straighter, flashing him a brighter smile that’s far easier to hold.
“Anyway,” I say, nudging the mood upward with practiced ease, “you really don’t have to ask me twice. Getting pointers from you? That’s basically a brag for life.”
I grin, stepping toward the center of the ruined space with a gleam in my eye that’s all real now, no mask needed. “Alright, Uncle Hero. Show me what I’m doing wrong?”
When he calls my mother’s thinking silly, I let out a quiet breath. Not quite a laugh, but close. It’s nice to hear someone else say it—like I’m not the only one who still sees the good in her, even if she can’t always see it in herself.
“I’ve been leaving messages,” I say softly, rubbing the back of my neck. “In places I know she goes. Little notes, tucked away where only she’d find them.”
I almost say it. Almost blurt out that I asked her to come to the anniversary party, that maybe—just maybe—she’ll be there. But I hesitate. I don’t know how much Ronin knows. If he’s been told. If he’s involved. If it would complicate something.
So instead, I pivot just slightly, eyes back on him.
“They disappear, usually. So I think she gets them. Remi said he’d give me a feather next time, to send with the note.” My voice is a little quieter again. “Something soft to remind her she’s still wanted.”
I let the moment settle, then pull myself up straighter, flashing him a brighter smile that’s far easier to hold.
“Anyway,” I say, nudging the mood upward with practiced ease, “you really don’t have to ask me twice. Getting pointers from you? That’s basically a brag for life.”
I grin, stepping toward the center of the ruined space with a gleam in my eye that’s all real now, no mask needed. “Alright, Uncle Hero. Show me what I’m doing wrong?”
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
