01-26-2020, 03:48 AM
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He had found peace at last.
But Jarris knew, perhaps better than anyone, how fickle and fragile a thing peace could be.
He knew that it existed in the space between a heartbeat, knew that it was fleeting in a way that meant it could not be trusted.
He also knew that he was a fool.
That he had always been a fool.
That his ability to love had never been enough to cancel out his inability to stay put.
Jarris had not been built to grow roots and yet…
It had been several years since he’d returned to Beqanna, reeking of someplace far away.
He had fathered a handful more children – five, exactly, each of them strange and wonderful in ways he could not have anticipated. He had never doubted his capacity to love, Jarris, but there was something in him that spurred him into near-constant motion. It had quieted significantly in the past few years and he had remained steadfast, anchored firmly to Plumeria’s side. Exactly where he’d belonged all along.
It is here, in the meadow, watching quietly as Plumeria and Dear sleep soundly, that he sees the star fall. The light arrests his attention, tugging it swiftly from his love and their daughter, and the brow darkens as a cloud of confusion passes across his face. He takes one stilted step in its direction before stopping short, casting a glance over his shoulder at the girl and her mother. He will stay. He has made the conscious decision to stay every day and he will continue to make it.
But he hears the cry and he whips his head around, the heart lurching up into the base of his throat. His breathing quickens along with his pulse because he immediately recognizes the voice. He recognizes, too, the agony in it. He should wake Plumeria, alert her, but he does not. Instead, he surges out into the night, following the sound of that voice. Each cry is a blade slipped into the valleys between his ribs and he runs as hard and as fast as he can in its direction.
And when he reaches the mouth of the cave, it does not occur to him that it might be a trap. Instead, he narrows his gaze in concentration and peers into its dark, yawning mouth. “<b>Kennice?</b>” he calls, the name wrapped tight in the panic that threatens to consume him. For it was her voice he’d heard crying out in the dead of night, beckoning him to the cave, his daughter. </div> <div class="jarris_name">jarris</div> <div class="jarris_quote">now I’ve been crazy, couldn’t you tell? I threw stones at the stars, but the whole sky fell</div> <img class="jarris_image" src="https://i.postimg.cc/2y1t8pQH/jarris3.png"> </div> </center>
He had found peace at last.
But Jarris knew, perhaps better than anyone, how fickle and fragile a thing peace could be.
He knew that it existed in the space between a heartbeat, knew that it was fleeting in a way that meant it could not be trusted.
He also knew that he was a fool.
That he had always been a fool.
That his ability to love had never been enough to cancel out his inability to stay put.
Jarris had not been built to grow roots and yet…
It had been several years since he’d returned to Beqanna, reeking of someplace far away.
He had fathered a handful more children – five, exactly, each of them strange and wonderful in ways he could not have anticipated. He had never doubted his capacity to love, Jarris, but there was something in him that spurred him into near-constant motion. It had quieted significantly in the past few years and he had remained steadfast, anchored firmly to Plumeria’s side. Exactly where he’d belonged all along.
It is here, in the meadow, watching quietly as Plumeria and Dear sleep soundly, that he sees the star fall. The light arrests his attention, tugging it swiftly from his love and their daughter, and the brow darkens as a cloud of confusion passes across his face. He takes one stilted step in its direction before stopping short, casting a glance over his shoulder at the girl and her mother. He will stay. He has made the conscious decision to stay every day and he will continue to make it.
But he hears the cry and he whips his head around, the heart lurching up into the base of his throat. His breathing quickens along with his pulse because he immediately recognizes the voice. He recognizes, too, the agony in it. He should wake Plumeria, alert her, but he does not. Instead, he surges out into the night, following the sound of that voice. Each cry is a blade slipped into the valleys between his ribs and he runs as hard and as fast as he can in its direction.
And when he reaches the mouth of the cave, it does not occur to him that it might be a trap. Instead, he narrows his gaze in concentration and peers into its dark, yawning mouth. “<b>Kennice?</b>” he calls, the name wrapped tight in the panic that threatens to consume him. For it was her voice he’d heard crying out in the dead of night, beckoning him to the cave, his daughter. </div> <div class="jarris_name">jarris</div> <div class="jarris_quote">now I’ve been crazy, couldn’t you tell? I threw stones at the stars, but the whole sky fell</div> <img class="jarris_image" src="https://i.postimg.cc/2y1t8pQH/jarris3.png"> </div> </center>