love should be as flowers of the weedy sort
It isn't fair, he agrees. A silent stream of tears warm her cheeks, disappearing into Sunjata's shirt as she tucks her face in against the material and squeezes her hands against him.
When he pulls back, she sniffs, pulling herself straighter. One of her arms comes up to quickly rub away her tears before he's cupping her jaw in his hands and she peers back at him, doe-eyed, lips pressing together. She listens to his comforting words in silent earnest, soaking up all of the gentled roughness of his voice, heart lifting when he smiles across at her. There's something genuine about it this time, not meant to simply wave off her worry but to assure her that there is plenty to cherish in the memories he has.
"I hope so," she mumbles, leaning in as he picks her up. She's gotten used to this by now; him scooping her up into his arm so she can perch there and feel safe from anything, everything. Her cheek rests against his shoulder and she nods quietly as he says they should return to making pancakes. She takes a deep, shuddering breath.
"You get extra pancakes, Daddy," she declares suddenly, "so that you can be cheered up." She lifts her head to look at his face, to see if he liked that idea.
Distracted, she finds the beginnings of his feather tattoos beneath the collar of his shirt and begins to fiddle with them curiously, her hands tickling over his skin, "What's this?"
When he pulls back, she sniffs, pulling herself straighter. One of her arms comes up to quickly rub away her tears before he's cupping her jaw in his hands and she peers back at him, doe-eyed, lips pressing together. She listens to his comforting words in silent earnest, soaking up all of the gentled roughness of his voice, heart lifting when he smiles across at her. There's something genuine about it this time, not meant to simply wave off her worry but to assure her that there is plenty to cherish in the memories he has.
"I hope so," she mumbles, leaning in as he picks her up. She's gotten used to this by now; him scooping her up into his arm so she can perch there and feel safe from anything, everything. Her cheek rests against his shoulder and she nods quietly as he says they should return to making pancakes. She takes a deep, shuddering breath.
"You get extra pancakes, Daddy," she declares suddenly, "so that you can be cheered up." She lifts her head to look at his face, to see if he liked that idea.
Distracted, she finds the beginnings of his feather tattoos beneath the collar of his shirt and begins to fiddle with them curiously, her hands tickling over his skin, "What's this?"
they break through cement and persist
Kamaria
