Kushiel squirmed with impatience, something he had not done since the last time he saw his mother. It took him a moment, but a heartbeat later he realized what was going on. Kushiel groaned.
The Valley was not this big. He knew what she was doing.
Kushiel threw back his head back dramatically. It was moments like this that he wished he could read thoughts, as well as have his read. Was she actually mad at him? He was under the impression that he was impossible to stay mad at. She had forgiven him so many times, he had begun to assume it was his charm, rather than her benevolence, that always won out in the end.
After all, he knew Gallows well enough to know that benevolent was not the first adjective many would use to describe her.
That distinct privilege was reserved for her little boy. Just as he knew Mom, he knew himself well enough not to underestimate her benevolence, he could think of many times it had been graciously given. Or at least, the privilege had been reserved for him. He may have screwed up this time. Kushiel pushed aside a tiny worm of discomfort. It was not in his nature to contemplate his behavior. If he started doing that a floodgate would open that no power on earth could close.
Kushiel smirked, perhaps that would be they day he finally tracked down Dad.
She found him just as he was smirking, and Kushiel quickly tried to school his features into something that could pass as repentance. It always took him a minute, to remember that he couldn’t fool her. He was so used to deceiving everyone else that he turned that he turned to it out of habit, rather than desire.
“Mom.” He replied, as serious as she had been, save for a tiny tugging smile he couldn’t crush.
“Your…rumors,” He shot her a chastising look, because he very much doubted anyone cared about him enough to gossip, “are correct. You’re the proud mother of a working stiff.” It went unsaid that he didn’t do a lot of working, he was here visiting after all. Not to mention, only the truly gelatinous would call him stiff. Still, when he grinned this time it was genuine, and stretched to his ears. He was happy to see her, and to see her talking to him.
Her next question, however, brought about a patented scowl.
“Mother,” he said, not unkindly, “please, what woman would have me?” Kushiel didn’t mean any woman. There were plenty of women who would have him despite his truly disastrous personality. For all his foul language and somewhat scoundrel ways, Kushiel didn’t want just any woman. Don’t misunderstand, he wanted just about every woman he saw, but not the way his mother meant.
Not in the way he would mention to her. Not it a way that was real.
Kushiel continued, his tone self deprecating.
“And don’t get me started on children. I can’t stand the little beasts.” That was a brazen, bold faced lie. Kushiel liked children. He related to them in a way he related to hardly anyone else. He just didn't want to get Gallows hopes up. It would be a strong woman indeed, who decided to have children with Kushiel. So strong, in fact, that she was probably fictional.
For a single, traitorous moment, Kushiel’s thoughts flitted to Engelsfors, all sultry and sinew, sparking like gold. Then to her son, a strapping lad. His smile softened, until he remembered that bastard lover of hers. Immediately, the scowl returned.
He glanced, alarmed, at this mother, then smirked deeply. ”It serves you right,” he thought, “if you’re going to poke around in my head.” Quickly, without hesitation, Kushiel nuzzled her face, wuffling softly in her nose. In a rare, unguarded show, Kushiel dropped his bravado and bullshit, and looked into her eyes.
"I've missed you, Mom."
Kushiel
some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall