The relief was tangible, billowing through him on a soft sigh and a hidden exhalation of breath. The question made him shake his head though, rumbling through the components of his emotions, trying to find the words and the right meaning. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t disappointed. Bewildered was probably the definition he sought, confused, rattled; striving to seek a stronghold for what Erebos’ sudden aging had seared within him. They’d had two years of baby coddling, growth as people, as parents, and he thought he had enough time to prepare himself for the eventuality that their son would simply keep growing, changing, altering. That he’d have more hours, more seasons, more weeks to shield him from the world. He’d raised Kiada until his death, but that experience hadn’t been like this. Nor had Amhran, who’d arrived fully grown, capable of most foundational skills, but new just the same.
And now here he was; long-limbed, gangly like a weed. Maybe the secret of parenting was that they’d never be truly ready, but willing to strive and try regardless, making mishaps and mistakes along the way. Hoping, perhaps, that they’d eventually be forgiven. “No. Of course not.” He shook his head, purposefully squeezing Erebos’ cheeks to relieve the tension. His features broke away from the intangible lines, granting half a smile, indulgent and juvenile, a matching set like his son’s. “Just needed to make sure you were okay.” Staying there, but dropping his hands away from Erebos’ face, only now to ruffle his hair. “Did you want to be older?” Likely difficult to decipher, having only been two – but he couldn’t quite help the need for logic, for pragmatism, even in the face of such a sudden change.
And now here he was; long-limbed, gangly like a weed. Maybe the secret of parenting was that they’d never be truly ready, but willing to strive and try regardless, making mishaps and mistakes along the way. Hoping, perhaps, that they’d eventually be forgiven. “No. Of course not.” He shook his head, purposefully squeezing Erebos’ cheeks to relieve the tension. His features broke away from the intangible lines, granting half a smile, indulgent and juvenile, a matching set like his son’s. “Just needed to make sure you were okay.” Staying there, but dropping his hands away from Erebos’ face, only now to ruffle his hair. “Did you want to be older?” Likely difficult to decipher, having only been two – but he couldn’t quite help the need for logic, for pragmatism, even in the face of such a sudden change.
deimos
Never let them drain the river of your soul
