09-10-2018, 01:17 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-12-2018, 10:27 PM by Disastardly.)
She was supposed to be happy. She knew that much, knew she was supposed to be wrapped up in her daughters and their father. The man they both called their father, though she could see Dovev in Zoe’s eyes at least. Zoe’s color was all her, black and white clashing riotously on her skin, none of the starry patches scattered across his matching black and white, patches that always seemed to draw her lips, her teeth, just begging for her touch. Just those eyes, dark with hints of starlight, Zoe’s eyes told her exactly who her father was.
Zyn on the other hand just looked like her and Zor’s father Azriel, a slatey grey edged in black and painted with just a bit of white. Not a hint of starlight anywhere on her, none of Dov in the shape of her or the way she moved. No, Zyn was Zor’s through and through, down to her grin, the way she flicked her ears when she was annoyed, the sassy little huff and stomp she recognized so well from his foalhood. And they were close, too; Zor doted on the pair of them, loved them with all his heart, grinned at their antics and melted when they snuggled up to him.
He was a good dad.
And she was glad of it, ‘cause she was pretty sure she was a shit mom. She fed them, cleaned them, let them curl up against her when they wanted, even managed to smile pretty for them, but it never quite reached her eyes. She wanted it to, wanted to be the person she’d sworn up and down she’d be, back when she was young and naive and carrying kids she’d never expected or especially wanted. A good mom, a devoted mom, someone who loved and took care of her kids the way her and Zor’s mom never had. Too wrapped up in her man to give a shit beyond making sure they were fed and relatively unharmed.
She’d sworn she’d be better than their mom. Care more. Make damn sure their kids knew they were loved. And god, but she tried. Maybe she was just broken. She watched them play together, watched them drag their dad into their games, talk him into all sorts of mischief, followed them with dull brown eyes that tried so hard to shine and never quite managed it. She at least tried to play the role, smile and laugh and snuggle and pretend she was whole when she felt so damn empty.
Maybe they’d be better off without her. With just Zor. They were old enough now that they didn’t need her anymore, and they deserved to be surrounded by the kind of love she didn’t think she had in her. She and Zor did fine without their mom around. At least the girls would have their dad. And it’d break Zor’s heart, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’d done that.
She’d almost left a thousand times, almost walked away from the three of them, leaving them to make each other happy, build each other up, let the bonds of love grow strong and unshakeable between the three of them the way they should. It killed her that she didn’t have the same, that she looked at her family and felt hollow, felt like she was looking at them through glass, like those sassy grins and sweet smiles and I love you, Mommas were for somebody else, somebody she couldn’t reach.
She sighed, watching the girls and their father play. Try a little harder, Diz. So she waited for a lull in the game and fought the weight of gravity to force the corners of her mouth into a soft smile, dragged her weary body out from the shade of a sprawling old tree instead of curling up and closing her eyes and lapsing into restless sleep. And she walked over to her family, brushing her muzzle along a hip here, withers there, coming to a halt leaning into Zor and trying to pretend it wasn’t so hard to hold herself up under the weight of what she’d become. “Hi,” she said softly, bumping her nose gently against his shoulder.
She could play the part. So at least she was the only one who felt like this.
Zyn on the other hand just looked like her and Zor’s father Azriel, a slatey grey edged in black and painted with just a bit of white. Not a hint of starlight anywhere on her, none of Dov in the shape of her or the way she moved. No, Zyn was Zor’s through and through, down to her grin, the way she flicked her ears when she was annoyed, the sassy little huff and stomp she recognized so well from his foalhood. And they were close, too; Zor doted on the pair of them, loved them with all his heart, grinned at their antics and melted when they snuggled up to him.
He was a good dad.
And she was glad of it, ‘cause she was pretty sure she was a shit mom. She fed them, cleaned them, let them curl up against her when they wanted, even managed to smile pretty for them, but it never quite reached her eyes. She wanted it to, wanted to be the person she’d sworn up and down she’d be, back when she was young and naive and carrying kids she’d never expected or especially wanted. A good mom, a devoted mom, someone who loved and took care of her kids the way her and Zor’s mom never had. Too wrapped up in her man to give a shit beyond making sure they were fed and relatively unharmed.
She’d sworn she’d be better than their mom. Care more. Make damn sure their kids knew they were loved. And god, but she tried. Maybe she was just broken. She watched them play together, watched them drag their dad into their games, talk him into all sorts of mischief, followed them with dull brown eyes that tried so hard to shine and never quite managed it. She at least tried to play the role, smile and laugh and snuggle and pretend she was whole when she felt so damn empty.
Maybe they’d be better off without her. With just Zor. They were old enough now that they didn’t need her anymore, and they deserved to be surrounded by the kind of love she didn’t think she had in her. She and Zor did fine without their mom around. At least the girls would have their dad. And it’d break Zor’s heart, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’d done that.
She’d almost left a thousand times, almost walked away from the three of them, leaving them to make each other happy, build each other up, let the bonds of love grow strong and unshakeable between the three of them the way they should. It killed her that she didn’t have the same, that she looked at her family and felt hollow, felt like she was looking at them through glass, like those sassy grins and sweet smiles and I love you, Mommas were for somebody else, somebody she couldn’t reach.
She sighed, watching the girls and their father play. Try a little harder, Diz. So she waited for a lull in the game and fought the weight of gravity to force the corners of her mouth into a soft smile, dragged her weary body out from the shade of a sprawling old tree instead of curling up and closing her eyes and lapsing into restless sleep. And she walked over to her family, brushing her muzzle along a hip here, withers there, coming to a halt leaning into Zor and trying to pretend it wasn’t so hard to hold herself up under the weight of what she’d become. “Hi,” she said softly, bumping her nose gently against his shoulder.
She could play the part. So at least she was the only one who felt like this.