06-06-2022, 12:07 AM
Ryatah
WHEN I WAS SHIPWRECKED I THOUGHT OF YOU
IN THE CRACKS OF LIGHT I DREAMED OF YOU
She had never claimed to be a good mother; for a lengthy portion of her life it could even be said that she was a bad mother. When every thread of herself was being pulled in multiple directions, when she did not have a foundation strong enough for even herself to stand on, it had often been her children that got lost in the chaos of it all.
She loved them—all of them, no matter how fractured her heart might have been at the time—but she knew that sometimes love alone was not enough. The ways that she had failed so many of them haunted her, cobwebs that remained in the corners of her mind that she could never quite get rid of. She thought of them—Evenstar, Cassian and Casimira, Echis, Noel, Este and Sela, and everyone in between—and of all the ways she had failed to be the mother she should have been. How she should have been the one thing in this world they could depend on and instead she had slipped away like sand, flimsy and impossible to hold onto without losing a thousand little pieces in the process.
And so it never changes, the way her heart clenches in her chest at the sight of one of them. Her eyes find the familiar shape of Noel and all at once she is overcome with pride and joy, but also that pricking of guilt that never quite fades.
“Noel,” she says with a quiet, sad sort of smile as she makes her way towards her. The shadows of heartache have settled into the lines of her daughter’s face, and though perhaps not obvious to anyone else, they stand out in a stark contrast to her. She does not need to use her empathy to understand what she is feeling, having found herself different kinds of broken countless times before. Instead, she only reaches for her, pulling her into an embrace. “My lovely girl,” she murmurs into her mane, holding her tight as if doing so might put her broken pieces back together.
She steps back, then, watching her with a look of concern, but she says nothing. She does not ask her how she has been, because she knows—or knows enough, at least. And she knows, too, that Noel will tell her what she needs from her, when she is ready.
She loved them—all of them, no matter how fractured her heart might have been at the time—but she knew that sometimes love alone was not enough. The ways that she had failed so many of them haunted her, cobwebs that remained in the corners of her mind that she could never quite get rid of. She thought of them—Evenstar, Cassian and Casimira, Echis, Noel, Este and Sela, and everyone in between—and of all the ways she had failed to be the mother she should have been. How she should have been the one thing in this world they could depend on and instead she had slipped away like sand, flimsy and impossible to hold onto without losing a thousand little pieces in the process.
And so it never changes, the way her heart clenches in her chest at the sight of one of them. Her eyes find the familiar shape of Noel and all at once she is overcome with pride and joy, but also that pricking of guilt that never quite fades.
“Noel,” she says with a quiet, sad sort of smile as she makes her way towards her. The shadows of heartache have settled into the lines of her daughter’s face, and though perhaps not obvious to anyone else, they stand out in a stark contrast to her. She does not need to use her empathy to understand what she is feeling, having found herself different kinds of broken countless times before. Instead, she only reaches for her, pulling her into an embrace. “My lovely girl,” she murmurs into her mane, holding her tight as if doing so might put her broken pieces back together.
She steps back, then, watching her with a look of concern, but she says nothing. She does not ask her how she has been, because she knows—or knows enough, at least. And she knows, too, that Noel will tell her what she needs from her, when she is ready.
AND IT WAS REAL ENOUGH TO GET ME THROUGH —
BUT I SWEAR YOU WERE THERE
@Noel