here is the truth: i keep waiting for my anger to go dormant, but it won't. i keep waiting for someone to reroute my anger to the ocean, but no one can.
where is my mother? i am aching and alone, and i want to be small again. i want to know i am safe, as long as i'm in her arms. i want to remember a time i was protected. i want the smells of my childhood, of warm bread and her perfume and honeyed fly traps.
my daddy taught me to shoot. for the longest while, i imagined all my prey with his face. made it easier. hunter's guilt and hunter's rage go hand—in—hand like that.
Us? Trust me, amatus, it would give me no pleasure to leave your side. You make monumental decisions affecting the entire world. How can I not consider some of my own?
@POWERlNCARNATE Palmed off? Not so. I actually just stole him. He’s my namesake, so I’m going to teach him terrible behaviours that Liz will curse out forever.
( Innocent smile, that does soften a little as Dorian beelines for the books, a hand on a tiny baby head. )
@POWERlNCARNATE ( It *is actually nice to get to spend time with his tiny baby nephew. And he *will actually get books for Mira, because he’s determined to be spoiling those kids.
The attempted wooing of his soulmate with baby fever is a perk. )
( staring down at rolan. )
why were you born now. do you know how weird the apocalypse makes people. how am I supposed to find a sitter.
are you manipulative enough to get your uncles back together.