"Those eyes of yours could swallow stars, galaxies and universes.
What hope did I ever have?"
What hope did I ever have?"
Sometimes, things don’t go according to plan.
Sometimes, we make mistakes.
Tarnished knows this better than most, he’s made more than his fair share over the course of his life; he has done terrible, awful things that have led to even more terrible, awful things, but the few things he has done right and doesn’t regret in the least are his children. No matter how they might have been conceived. He is there for the birth as he has been there for most of their births, a silent nearly-undetectable guard; Lucrezia is as safe as she’s ever been whilst bringing little Rome into the world. Not that she knows, of course.
He prides himself on being incredibly stealthy, if nothing else.
The sand near Vanquish rumbles, pulling itself together to form his wanderlust-prone son. He sighs, casting his father a sidelong glance. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Nish asks, motioning with his head towards the trio—grains of loose sand tumbling from his head and mane. “It’s funny, happens every spring and yet it’s still such a rare thing to actually witness.” He seems to muse, though purposely gives no hint at the boy’s lineage. Lucrezia never announced it, after all. So he figures it isn’t his place to openly proclaim the child his. Besides, a disgraced prince isn’t much in the way of a father figure anyways. She probably has a plan. It’s what her family is known for, though Lu is by far the most benign. He trusts her to do what’s right by Rome.
Even if it means cutting him out of the picture.
It leaves him with quite the dilemma, however, since he can’t just leave the boy.
That would make him no better than his own mother.
Bright and Woolf didn’t need his protection, they were his crowning achievements.
Perfect little creatures.
Nyxia, on the other hand, had required much care and he wonders what happened to her sister.
If she is still alive.
He doesn’t even know her name, nor does he know the name of the one Bright stole away. Silly girl.
“Mine,” she claimed.
‘Mine,’ he inwardly claims, watching Rome with a sort of pride he hopes can be passed off as 'unclely.'
All of them are his, even if he must watch over them from afar.
“I was only passing through, you know,” Tarnished grins, recalling his father’s earlier jab towards him. Their relationship has always been rocky, through no fault of their own, and he cannot blame the old King for finally being fed up with it. “But would it please His Highness if I were to stick around for a while this time?” He tries to joke, tries to make light of the situation and whether or not the humor is lost on his father he has no idea.
“Who knows,” he shrugs. “Maybe you’ll keep me out of trouble.”
Sometimes, we make mistakes.
Tarnished knows this better than most, he’s made more than his fair share over the course of his life; he has done terrible, awful things that have led to even more terrible, awful things, but the few things he has done right and doesn’t regret in the least are his children. No matter how they might have been conceived. He is there for the birth as he has been there for most of their births, a silent nearly-undetectable guard; Lucrezia is as safe as she’s ever been whilst bringing little Rome into the world. Not that she knows, of course.
He prides himself on being incredibly stealthy, if nothing else.
The sand near Vanquish rumbles, pulling itself together to form his wanderlust-prone son. He sighs, casting his father a sidelong glance. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Nish asks, motioning with his head towards the trio—grains of loose sand tumbling from his head and mane. “It’s funny, happens every spring and yet it’s still such a rare thing to actually witness.” He seems to muse, though purposely gives no hint at the boy’s lineage. Lucrezia never announced it, after all. So he figures it isn’t his place to openly proclaim the child his. Besides, a disgraced prince isn’t much in the way of a father figure anyways. She probably has a plan. It’s what her family is known for, though Lu is by far the most benign. He trusts her to do what’s right by Rome.
Even if it means cutting him out of the picture.
It leaves him with quite the dilemma, however, since he can’t just leave the boy.
That would make him no better than his own mother.
Bright and Woolf didn’t need his protection, they were his crowning achievements.
Perfect little creatures.
Nyxia, on the other hand, had required much care and he wonders what happened to her sister.
If she is still alive.
He doesn’t even know her name, nor does he know the name of the one Bright stole away. Silly girl.
“Mine,” she claimed.
‘Mine,’ he inwardly claims, watching Rome with a sort of pride he hopes can be passed off as 'unclely.'
All of them are his, even if he must watch over them from afar.
“I was only passing through, you know,” Tarnished grins, recalling his father’s earlier jab towards him. Their relationship has always been rocky, through no fault of their own, and he cannot blame the old King for finally being fed up with it. “But would it please His Highness if I were to stick around for a while this time?” He tries to joke, tries to make light of the situation and whether or not the humor is lost on his father he has no idea.
“Who knows,” he shrugs. “Maybe you’ll keep me out of trouble.”
TARNISHED
[...Do we just carry on from this thread? BECAUSE ROME. <333]
equus mutatio, immortality, disease manipulation, trait immunity