11-27-2020, 11:36 PM
There is a part of Sabbath that wonders if Varick is right, if their daughter may come to hate the men of her family as she does. But she remembers that he is not like the others she has met in her life. He is kind and patient, even when she goes for his eyes or tries to bite through his scales as he sleeps. No, she thinks Katarine has a fine example of what a husband should look like. A frown creases her face, though, as she realizes that she considers them to be bonded for life. At least she didn’t say it aloud.
She sweeps the thought away to dissect later when the conversation turns to their older son. Sabbath likes the idea of him bonding with his younger siblings, as Eucharist had when he was no longer the baby. But Crowns lacks whatever darkness has fit itself so perfectly into her middle child. Instead, their boy is kind and gentle, always striving to mimic the most admirable parts of his father.
“He was getting himself too anxious, so I told him to find his grandfather and ask for stories,” she confesses with a soft, tired laugh. “Vulgaris will bore him to sleep with history lessons.”
And she is careful to call her sire by his name, only ever saying Father when she was spitting it at him. Her lips begin to roam the length of Varick’s neck as she delicately searches for some soft spot for old times’ sake. What would she even do if she found it, after all they’ve been through? Maybe she could prick his skin and hold the venom back, a quiet reminder that she could end him and chooses not to. Sabbath doesn’t pledge her love to him, but she could vow not to kill him.
It’s more than she’s given anyone else.
She sweeps the thought away to dissect later when the conversation turns to their older son. Sabbath likes the idea of him bonding with his younger siblings, as Eucharist had when he was no longer the baby. But Crowns lacks whatever darkness has fit itself so perfectly into her middle child. Instead, their boy is kind and gentle, always striving to mimic the most admirable parts of his father.
“He was getting himself too anxious, so I told him to find his grandfather and ask for stories,” she confesses with a soft, tired laugh. “Vulgaris will bore him to sleep with history lessons.”
And she is careful to call her sire by his name, only ever saying Father when she was spitting it at him. Her lips begin to roam the length of Varick’s neck as she delicately searches for some soft spot for old times’ sake. What would she even do if she found it, after all they’ve been through? Maybe she could prick his skin and hold the venom back, a quiet reminder that she could end him and chooses not to. Sabbath doesn’t pledge her love to him, but she could vow not to kill him.
It’s more than she’s given anyone else.
may my enemies live long so they can see me prosper.
sabbath