maybe who we were then is shattered, but who we are in the end is what matters
Vai’s warmth is like the sun on her face, and Remi the earth beneath her. Together, mother and son pull the Valkyrie through the mire of her efforts, and she comes out the other side exhausted, beaten, but unbroken. Victorious. And with two children, small and unready for the world, but alive and whole. She cries then, heat against her cheeks and clinging to the bow of her lips, salt upon her tongue. Relief. They live, against all odds.
Her arms feel like lead, but they rise stubbornly as Vai comes to her side with the boy, enveloping him with the grace that comes from years of practice. The child’s eyes are not even open, and yet she is falling into open air from simply staring at his face, stunned and stricken by a love so intense her chest feels like it’s caving in. Turning away would feel impossible were Remi not holding her - their - daughter out in offering. Adjusting her son (her son, her son, only the second she has ever had, and alive - as she will keep him, no matter the cost) so that he may rest in one arm, she reaches for her daughter with the other. They cradle against her breasts, scarcely clothed in sheets, and her heart beats a rhythm that will lull them to sleep for seasons to come.
There’s no way to reach for Remi, but he is there, and Ru turns her head weakly as his skin brushes her own. Her eyes are pink from crying, but there is a light in them brighter than Safrin’s stars. “Thank you,” she whispers. As difficult as this had all been, as many problems as it had caused, she is a mother anew. And he had not abandoned her, as he’d promised. As all the others had failed to do.
Vai is not forgotten, and the Valkyrie’s eyes seek her, disoriented as she is. “Thank you. Thank you, so much.” Because what else can she feel right now but gratitude? “The girl. Her middle name - could I name it after you?” Or would that be too bold and presumptuous?
Her arms feel like lead, but they rise stubbornly as Vai comes to her side with the boy, enveloping him with the grace that comes from years of practice. The child’s eyes are not even open, and yet she is falling into open air from simply staring at his face, stunned and stricken by a love so intense her chest feels like it’s caving in. Turning away would feel impossible were Remi not holding her - their - daughter out in offering. Adjusting her son (her son, her son, only the second she has ever had, and alive - as she will keep him, no matter the cost) so that he may rest in one arm, she reaches for her daughter with the other. They cradle against her breasts, scarcely clothed in sheets, and her heart beats a rhythm that will lull them to sleep for seasons to come.
There’s no way to reach for Remi, but he is there, and Ru turns her head weakly as his skin brushes her own. Her eyes are pink from crying, but there is a light in them brighter than Safrin’s stars. “Thank you,” she whispers. As difficult as this had all been, as many problems as it had caused, she is a mother anew. And he had not abandoned her, as he’d promised. As all the others had failed to do.
Vai is not forgotten, and the Valkyrie’s eyes seek her, disoriented as she is. “Thank you. Thank you, so much.” Because what else can she feel right now but gratitude? “The girl. Her middle name - could I name it after you?” Or would that be too bold and presumptuous?
