06-14-2020, 04:09 PM
Prayer is oblivious to all the pain dammed up in her mother’s chest.
Oblivious to how quickly she cycles through all of those emotions.
She suspects nothing when her mother draws her into a tight embrace.
She knows only her mother’s love and she does not try to stifle her smile, does nothing to try and dampen all the relief that floods through her. She could have come back to Tephra at any time, she knows. She had certainly missed her mother, she’d had plenty reason to come back, but the timing had never been right. But she remembers – has always remembered – how her mother had introduced her to her grandmother, how sweetly they had each murmured her name, called her beautiful, filled her with love. And she has returned so that her own daughter might feel that same love.
And when her mother untangles herself from her, Prayer shuffles back to allow her space to take in her granddaughter. Prayer’s smile remains as she watches her daughter blink boldly back at her mother, her lips pulling tight in a grin that looks like a grimace. Smiling at her granddaughter the same way she’d smiled at her father, nervous. Because the child is jealous but she is kind, too, and she doesn’t want this stranger to know she’s jealous.
The stranger’s name is Sabbath and the child nods but can’t find her voice to speak. Just goes on grin-grimacing, uncertain. “This is Basilica,” Prayer says. And Prayer thinks of the child’s father, how fiercely she loves him, but can’t find it in her heart to mention him.
Prayer shifts closer to her mother when she speaks, tucks her head up under the mare’s neck, lays her head across her chest. “Tell me everything,” she murmurs as Basilica teeters closer, glues herself to Prayer’s hip. “I’ve missed you terribly,” Prayer adds and then exhales a contented sigh.
Oblivious to how quickly she cycles through all of those emotions.
She suspects nothing when her mother draws her into a tight embrace.
She knows only her mother’s love and she does not try to stifle her smile, does nothing to try and dampen all the relief that floods through her. She could have come back to Tephra at any time, she knows. She had certainly missed her mother, she’d had plenty reason to come back, but the timing had never been right. But she remembers – has always remembered – how her mother had introduced her to her grandmother, how sweetly they had each murmured her name, called her beautiful, filled her with love. And she has returned so that her own daughter might feel that same love.
And when her mother untangles herself from her, Prayer shuffles back to allow her space to take in her granddaughter. Prayer’s smile remains as she watches her daughter blink boldly back at her mother, her lips pulling tight in a grin that looks like a grimace. Smiling at her granddaughter the same way she’d smiled at her father, nervous. Because the child is jealous but she is kind, too, and she doesn’t want this stranger to know she’s jealous.
The stranger’s name is Sabbath and the child nods but can’t find her voice to speak. Just goes on grin-grimacing, uncertain. “This is Basilica,” Prayer says. And Prayer thinks of the child’s father, how fiercely she loves him, but can’t find it in her heart to mention him.
Prayer shifts closer to her mother when she speaks, tucks her head up under the mare’s neck, lays her head across her chest. “Tell me everything,” she murmurs as Basilica teeters closer, glues herself to Prayer’s hip. “I’ve missed you terribly,” Prayer adds and then exhales a contented sigh.
@[Sabbath]