Malik
12-30-2021, 08:46 AM
Coming back for Myrna, she says, and Malik feels himself nodding as though that makes sense. She is a capable shifter, with a far wider range than her older brother, though she is far from catching up to his speed. But still better than him, Malik realizes. Worth coming back for, worth facing down Mazikeen for in a way that Malik was not.
If there had been any attachment left, it is broken then, drowned out entirely by the quickly welling doubt of his own abilities. The reminder of his quest, the quest that he has now been on for most of his life, looms uncomfortably once more, casting further shadows that he must struggle to throw off.
He wants to be brave, as brave as his mother is when she promises to protect him from the monster that had tormented them. He wants to believe her. But can he? What if the Curse that has taken his father is too much for her? It’s him, Malik realizes. It would just be him. And he has no chance at all. After everything, this realization is finally too much.
He takes a breath, and though he means it to be long and slow, it lodges uncomfortably in his throat. He shakes his head quickly in response to his mother’s question. He tries to say no but the fear welling within him cannot make it past the block in his throat. He wishes he were small enough to bury his face against her, to believe the world would be alright simply because she said it would be so.
But he is not that young any more, and he is no longer naive.
Malik does his best to forget the tightness that fear has brought to his chest, and the way his throat seems unable to make a single sound. He closes his eyes for a moment, then looks away, out at the glittering lake beyond.
When he looks back at his mother, he is smiling. It is a small smile, but there is hope there, just enough hope that she will see it, perhaps enough to keep her from worrying too much about him. He has to shift to show it to her, turning into a happier version of himself, but it is worth the strain and discomfort of this new way of shifting.
He doesn’t want her to worry about him - not when there are far larger concerns - so he reaches out and bumps his muzzle against her shoulder like he might if he were less distressed by what feels like impending doom.
If there had been any attachment left, it is broken then, drowned out entirely by the quickly welling doubt of his own abilities. The reminder of his quest, the quest that he has now been on for most of his life, looms uncomfortably once more, casting further shadows that he must struggle to throw off.
He wants to be brave, as brave as his mother is when she promises to protect him from the monster that had tormented them. He wants to believe her. But can he? What if the Curse that has taken his father is too much for her? It’s him, Malik realizes. It would just be him. And he has no chance at all. After everything, this realization is finally too much.
He takes a breath, and though he means it to be long and slow, it lodges uncomfortably in his throat. He shakes his head quickly in response to his mother’s question. He tries to say no but the fear welling within him cannot make it past the block in his throat. He wishes he were small enough to bury his face against her, to believe the world would be alright simply because she said it would be so.
But he is not that young any more, and he is no longer naive.
Malik does his best to forget the tightness that fear has brought to his chest, and the way his throat seems unable to make a single sound. He closes his eyes for a moment, then looks away, out at the glittering lake beyond.
When he looks back at his mother, he is smiling. It is a small smile, but there is hope there, just enough hope that she will see it, perhaps enough to keep her from worrying too much about him. He has to shift to show it to her, turning into a happier version of himself, but it is worth the strain and discomfort of this new way of shifting.
He doesn’t want her to worry about him - not when there are far larger concerns - so he reaches out and bumps his muzzle against her shoulder like he might if he were less distressed by what feels like impending doom.