Damien
the horrors persist
but the wonders prevail
but the wonders prevail
Damien stayed quiet, nodding faintly, but not interrupting. His eyes flicked between her and the cub, steady and intent, as though he were memorizing every scrap of advice.
When she spoke of self-preservation, though, his brow ticked upward. He glanced from Lena to the two companions — one hovering smugly, the other wriggling with unchecked energy — and exhaled through his nose. “She does tend to leap before she thinks,” he said dryly. “Not a lot going on in that little noggin yet.”
He stepped forward just as Aria was bunching her haunches for another go, scooping her up in one practiced motion. She squeaked, squirmed, then went limp once she realized who it was. He set her down into a sitting position a few feet away from the snowball. “Settle,” he told her, the word low, unbending. His thumb smoothed once between her ears and down her spine, and after a moment the cub stilled enough to sit, tail lashing but her claws no longer aimed at the snowball.
“Maybe it’ll say hello if you are calm,” Damien murmured to her, though he doubted the words meant much. Aria chirped back, swatted at her own tail-tip as it twitched, but—remarkably—sat. Not perfectly still, but enough.
He straightened up and glanced back at Lena, a crooked, uncertain smile tugging at his mouth. The look in his eyes carried the unspoken question: am I doing it right?
With that, he took a careful step back, giving Mittens space, as if to prove he wasn’t pushing too hard. If the floating snowball had any inclinations, at least the cub was giving it the best chance she could.
When she spoke of self-preservation, though, his brow ticked upward. He glanced from Lena to the two companions — one hovering smugly, the other wriggling with unchecked energy — and exhaled through his nose. “She does tend to leap before she thinks,” he said dryly. “Not a lot going on in that little noggin yet.”
He stepped forward just as Aria was bunching her haunches for another go, scooping her up in one practiced motion. She squeaked, squirmed, then went limp once she realized who it was. He set her down into a sitting position a few feet away from the snowball. “Settle,” he told her, the word low, unbending. His thumb smoothed once between her ears and down her spine, and after a moment the cub stilled enough to sit, tail lashing but her claws no longer aimed at the snowball.
“Maybe it’ll say hello if you are calm,” Damien murmured to her, though he doubted the words meant much. Aria chirped back, swatted at her own tail-tip as it twitched, but—remarkably—sat. Not perfectly still, but enough.
He straightened up and glanced back at Lena, a crooked, uncertain smile tugging at his mouth. The look in his eyes carried the unspoken question: am I doing it right?
With that, he took a careful step back, giving Mittens space, as if to prove he wasn’t pushing too hard. If the floating snowball had any inclinations, at least the cub was giving it the best chance she could.
