[It's been some time since they invited Héctor to stay in what used to be the village they grew up in, in a twist to their story from before that make Mili smile a little to themself. It's nice to be able to do for him what he'd been able to do for them, even if they can't offer him nearly as much. They can't bring him the family he needs, even though they'd be part of it if he let them. They can only do so much when it comes to making him feel safe, even when they work to turn what used to be a home from the overrun, broken shack into something livable again. They can't even give him all the time in the world, with how they return to their Mamá and Papá's arms each night and soak in all the love they can. That's for the best, really. It's taken a lot of time to learn what boundaries existed where, and even now navigating things felt like a maze where all of a sudden they'd bump into an invisible wall and find themself trapped.
But it's...okay. Things are better, they think. As much as they can be.]
Señor Héctor?
[Their appearance has changed a little since that first day, too. Still a near-copy of Teto, with the same eyes, smile, and awkward angles they couldn't see as anything less than perfection. But now they have fuzzy little antennae where feathers once were, and moth-like wings fold behind them. More chaotic fluff to their already wild hair. Milinsectito, indeed.
Like a moth to a flame, they've marched their way straight to him, only slowing down enough to give their customary wave: Hi, House. Bye, House. See you soon, House. It's time to visit a man that needs a home, House. They bring their pace down again though as they near. You wait, and you listen to what it is he wants. He's fragile, even by human standards.]
I'm back! Buenas tardes! May I come in?
[As if the walls are more than rotting wood, wispy sheets, and magic threads to hold it together and keep the heat of the day's sun in. It's the empty loneliness of the space and Mili's force of will that ensures any real privacy.]
[It's been some time since he came to this world. His wing is healing. Much of him is. The village is quiet and peaceful, entirely abandoned, and it feels like a world unto its own. Sometimes when Mili leaves he wonders if this is an isolated Heaven in which he's meant to wait. He did expect something like that. But, when they return, he's reminded that it's a foolish thought. He's merely away. He's still lost.
He tries to be happy when they're here. Sometimes he is. They're an interesting kid, a sweet child. They try really hard to make things nice for him. But his heart still aches. He still wishes for home so desperately. The only difference now is that he also wishes for Hell. Just one part of Hell.
Their voice rouses him.]
Buenas tardes, Mili. You may, of course.
[He can't recall that he's ever said no.
The little fairy is looking more fairylike every day. He thinks he's maybe the opposite. He's let him go even more dishevelled. His hair's been growing. He still offers a smile.]
[They smile in that way that's familiar in their family, something that should be goofy but was so genuine that it swung back into charming. It never feels appropriate to break it out in full force, but it's hard to not get swept up in the joy of getting to see him. He looks exhausted. He looks lonely. They want to cheat and pull from his memory to find out a way to fix everything, but...no. Even if they've gone through his memories more thoroughly since they met -- except, of course, for the ones they'd promised never to look at -- it wouldn't be any fair to him when so much of that had been twisted against him and shattered before.
They bounce over to him and fight back the urge to throw their arms around him. In the end, Mili's still probably settling in too close and being too familiar.]
Mmm! I think my sister's in love. It's very sweet.
[...Which doesn't directly answer his question, but Coco being happy means they're happy. They love! their family!! This, though, is troubling, even if him managing to smile at them makes them happy.]
[That smile really is charming. He's growing quite fond of it. He doesn't think it's just because they're the only company he has at the moment either. He genuinely likes them.
Even if they do get too close for comfort.]
Oh? That does sound sweet. You'll have to send her my congratulations then.
[They don't answer his question but he knows well they're the type to pick up the feelings of others-- literally and metaphorically. He could imagine them deciding it's a good day based solely on things happening to others.]
I'm fine. The weather's nice today. The breeze feels nice on the wings.
[They look up, and though they shield their eyes with their hand and what's left of roof and canopy above that do plenty to cover them from the bright of the day, their pupils narrow to thin slits. They hum their agreement -- the weather is nice and the wind feels good. Their wings shuffle a little, trying to fold more neatly into place before they take their seat next to him out of something like politeness. They don't have shoes to take off or a hat to hang up as some kind of ritual, after all.]
We can start stretching it properly soon, maybe.
[Make sure that it still remembered how to work right. But actual flying isn't a priority, especially without that special person from so many of the memories -- a relief, as Mili wasn't very good at it themself. In fact, despite seeing them with wings for a while now, Héctor might note that the kid's stayed pretty solidly on the ground except to climb something or leap into the stream.
Lopsided, sympathetic smile in place, they start to lift their hand in a desire to touch his face tenderly. Another habit they've picked up in this family.]
I think you won't be able to feel the wind through your hair, soon. Even that might get stuck in there.
[They've been cramped up from lack of use, something he'd have never imagined dealing with. It was hard to even imagine getting new limbs.
He's noticed that they don't fly. If he hasn't asked by now, he thinks he might soon. Why have wings and not use them? But then, it kind of brought a sense of solidarity too. The ground was a good place to be. It was solid and steady and he knew how to move on his feet much better.
They start to reach and he tenses, but doesn't shy away. It's a habit for them as much as it's an attempt for him to practice. Be normal. Not a demon, not Dodger, just a kind child who wants to reach out.
Their comment makes him laugh, breaking just a little of his tension.]
You think so? The poor wind. [His eyes open and reaches for a strand.] I suppose it has gotten a bit long. I haven't really felt the urge to try and chop it.
[He laughs and they laugh, too, gently thumbing across a cheekbone that was still sharper than it should be.]
Being long isn't the problem! My hair used to be so long...
[It's still got that overgrown look to it, obviously, but Mili's hair can't really compare to Wist's. Even with their shapeshifting, it had taken years to reach a point where they were able to keep it that long without being a bother to anyone. Their parents had done their best to prepare them, no longer helping when they were old enough to wrestle with a comb or brush without making a mess of things in their struggle, and later on Poe had reluctantly helped when it got to be too much to handle.]
You don't need to cut it. Not if you don't want. [Mili smoothes some hair back, pausing at the first hint of a snag to undo it as painlessly as possible. In an ideal world, there'd be no more pain for him ever.] I can help.
Oh? I'm picturing you now being more hair than Mili.
[He wears a teasing smile. The conversation helps to keep his mind off the contact. Their thumb traces over a scar, one of the ones he gave himself. It wasn't willingly, but then, few of them really were.
They probably have that memory, he realizes, causing his smile to slip for a moment. They'd only removed specific ones, the ones he was too ashamed of. The story behind that scar was just the usual horror; Squalo taking him hostage to get back against Dodger, who thought sacrificing him was a fair deal for getting Squalo's friendship back, up until he couldn't take it and went on the hunt. He'd cut himself after Squalo's badgering to make it look good, and he'd glared the whole time because both of these bastards thought less of him than they did of hurting each other. He'd almost thought he could salvage that day, talk Dodger down once he showed up the way he eventually talked Squalo down. But no, it took a second for Dodger to rip Squalo in half before his eyes.
He doesn't want to think about all that. The only reason he doesn't shake his head is because Mili is still touching him.]
[They laugh like it’s ridiculous — like it hasn’t been true before in more ways than one. They really laugh because it’s fun and they like getting to see him smile. When it starts to fall and they can see the familiar ghost of memory in his eyes, they slow their touch to rest against him instead and give him time to readjust to whatever it is he needs to work around in his mind, now. He comes back soon enough, though from all their time with memories, they’re sure that moment stretched longer inside of him, and he rewards his finding his way back with an impish little grin.]
We can play ‘knots’! It’s a game I made up when I was little. Only it’ll be better this time because there’s someone else to play it with.
[And maybe they’ll put little braids in here and there. They know it will ache, but...would it be nice to think about them around another, instead of just waiting?]
When you find a knot, you think about what sort of secret got all tangled up in there, and while you’re thinking really, really hard you set it free! Sometimes the secrets aren’t as secret as others.
[They lean away finally and hop back onto their feet, fluffing their own mane for show.]
I mostly grew out of my knots! But I bet my hair remembers how, so you can have something to do, too! If you want. It’s more fun when they aren’t your own.
[It's a good grin. He really is happy to see them. Even though they knew too much, they maintained an innocence. It makes them easy to be around. It makes him feel closer to the way he should be, rather than the way he is.
He laughs when they fluff up. He doesn't know what they mean when they say their hair remembers, but it's a child thing or a fairy thing.]
Sounds like a very interesting game. So, small nice secrets then? To be honest, I don't know that I've kept many nice things a secret.
[Just a few. Just because it seemed best.]
But I'm sure I'll come up with something. Let's play then. Show me how it's done and I'll follow after you.
Mm! Some were big and sad, some were nice and little... Some were sad and little! Sometimes they were angry.
[That in itself is something of a secret, they muse, but they'd had to make up for the tangle they'd already undone for him. As fresh as the memory seems with their ability for recall, it's so strange to think about the times they'd broken down in quiet, furious tears and tried to hide it. Even if they hadn't understood why, it was always better for them to hide that sort of thing back then, which is part of why knots became such a frequent game.]
It's a game you can play however you want.
[With a jaunt to their steps, they circle around so that they're in a good position for finding all those snags they can neatly sort out again. Mili gently pets his head first to try and acclimate him more to the idea of them being there. Then, even more gently, they slip fingers between messy strands and start to comb. Their voice is soft when they speak again, and there's almost a low, rumbling undertone along with it. Not quite a purr, but close enough.]
I had lots and lots, so I had to find all kinds of secrets to say. Changelings always, always get lots of tangles. It's one of the ways you can tell them apart from real children. I think... [The tangle is undone, and they smile into their secret.] ...that maybe I don't get so many anymore because I'm a 'real' child now. Mamá and Papá love me.
[He hums. Angry secrets. He always tried so hard to keep them behind his teeth. When they came free, they tore at him and all his old wounds. No matter who or what he lashed at, those barbs would swing around back to him.
He doesn't want to find angry secrets now. He doesn't want to see them scared of him-- or sad for him. He's already done enough.
He smiles at the little pat. His wings ruffle just slightly and shift so they're a little more out of the way while Mili gets in close. The purr is an inhuman thing, but it's a sweet thing, like the little noises Nekane made sometimes, old bird instincts slipping out before they'd become embarrassed by it.
But, it's when they comb through his hair that his breath shudders out and his eyes close out of real relief. One kind of touch not ruined. Demons might pull but only Nekane would be so careful. Nekane and Mili. It's a moment before he speaks.]
Is that what makes a real child? To be loved? [It makes his heart ache.] We had something in common then. I don't think I was ever a real child. But I never-- no, that's a lie. I minded a lot. In that place, there were many things that made us tell secrets. You know, that was the first secret I said? It was how I met my dear friend.
[They know that. They know he met Nekane while locked in a room, eyes bleeding, head aching, begging them to please, please, say something so it would stop. And they caved simply because he was willing to give more. It had to be fair.]
I'm not sure what secrets I'll find when it's my turn. You know so many. Even that one, that I was... resentful. [His hand moves to his arm where the word has been carved in.] I'm not anymore. I found something good, like you. I'm glad that your new family's been good to you too.
[They force themself to listen patiently, as much as they want to interrupt. They're happy to hear him venture his thoughts over to that dear friend of his again, and it tempers their anxious tongue enough that they can relax into a soft smile. There aren't a lot of things they know, for all the knowledge granted to them through memories, but they're confident in thinking that he can be a real child, even though he's grown up, by the metric they'd given. He's loved now. Maybe it wasn't always those words, but he was so loved. Much more than he could know. Mili strokes through the bit they'd already fixed and fights the urge to kiss the top of his head.]
That's silly. Telling a secret is telling a secret, even if someone already knows. [And some of it was put away in boxes. There were the boxes they weren't allowed to open, of course, but also a few that just held clutter so they wouldn't get too heavy and confused under the weight of all they'd learned.] Like -- hmmm... [They hum while they locate another knot and think.] I visit a friend my family doesn't know about. I like him a lot, even if he isn't always fun. He makes my heart thankful.
[He hums in thought. And then he listens, and they praise him without even saying his name. This sweet child. This good kid. What a heartbreak it is to know they were ever anything but loved. What a relief to know they're loved now.
He laughs a little to hear them admit he's not always fun, then smiles softly again.]
Well, I have a friend I like a lot too. They visit me. I am very surprised they don't mind the lack of fun. But I worry, to think I am their secret. I think of their family, and the worry they must have when that friend is away.
[He laughs and they smile, pleased with themself for opening the door to such a beautiful sound, even if they've also opened the door for his implied question. Well, he's just playing the game. Really, they should only be proud about this.]
My family probably worries when I visit you, but they worry when I go to the plaza, or play with toys my tíos made, or tell tales of riding dande-lions to flee from wild birds. There are a lot of dangerous things in the world. Dangerous people. Really, really horrible stuff that just happens sometimes, and no one can give you the answer you need to be okay. There are lots of reasons to be worried. Every new person I meet, I learn ten thousand more. Now I know you, and I'd worry about you, not getting to see you while I still worried my family some other way. I'd be worried if they weren't worried, because...I think worry is the fear of having to miss. I'd like to be missed when I'm gone.
[They know his struggles. They don't mean to take a knife to his heart while their hands gently lull him into vulnerability. That also know that...things have changed, now. And something they've always known is that they can't be dishonest.]
Until I am, I think I want to make sure...there are people that know I'll miss them, too. Moments I'll always carry with me.
[He doesn't know how to feel about all that, mostly because he feels a whole lot at once. He could see himself having those same worries. Especially about dangerous things and people. He thinks, forevermore, he'll be wary of that.
Really, really horrible stuff that just happens sometimes, and no one can give you the answer you need to be okay. His eyes close at that. Another truth, for no one, not even God, had helped him there.
It feels like tearing several wounds before the balm is applied. Those last words are so sweet, even as they sting. He won't weep in front of a child. He won't.]
I'm not good at hugs anymore. I feel out of control, less me, like my skin is crawling. But part of me still wants to. When my friend says things like that, I want to hug them, but I'm afraid of how afraid I will seem.
[They'd so readily hug him. So, so readily, and it's hard to hold back even as he admits his fear. They want to kiss the top of his head. They want to curl up in his lap and fall asleep against him as if he'd been reading a bedtime story to them in a cozy chair, instead of sharing aches in some run down cottage in the woods. Mili draws his hair back and lets it slip through their fingers like water with a hum.
They teeter on another secret, but in the end they decide to try and present a solution first. Fewer things to worry about, maybe.]
I'm going to do some magic, but not to you. Don't worry.
[They just don't want to surprise him more than they have to.
Coming from behind him pads a dog at about knee level, head a little lowered submissively. Its fluffy black fur has a gentle curl to it, and along its back in grey there's the suggestion of the same pattern on Mili's mothy wings. It shares the little antennae, too.
Mili peeks up at him from wide, rich brown eyes, and gives a little wag of their tail. Their voice is the same, if a little hesitant.]
Is this better...?
[Everybody likes dogs. Dogs were gentle and comforting! Not like cats.]
[Even with all the tangled knots of fear and grief, feeling Mili comb through his hair with their fingers makes him want to close his eyes and lean into it, to unravel in the same way as the tangles of Mili's story.]
Okay.
[He's a little confused as to what magic might be coming, up until he sees the dog appear. He blinks down at it. He can't help but let out a faint laugh of surprise.
Tentatively, he reaches out and runs a hand over the fairy-dog's head.]
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storywalks) wrote2021-09-20 05:37 pm
no subject
But it's...okay. Things are better, they think. As much as they can be.]
Señor Héctor?
[Their appearance has changed a little since that first day, too. Still a near-copy of Teto, with the same eyes, smile, and awkward angles they couldn't see as anything less than perfection. But now they have fuzzy little antennae where feathers once were, and moth-like wings fold behind them. More chaotic fluff to their already wild hair. Milinsectito, indeed.
Like a moth to a flame, they've marched their way straight to him, only slowing down enough to give their customary wave: Hi, House. Bye, House. See you soon, House. It's time to visit a man that needs a home, House. They bring their pace down again though as they near. You wait, and you listen to what it is he wants. He's fragile, even by human standards.]
I'm back! Buenas tardes! May I come in?
[As if the walls are more than rotting wood, wispy sheets, and magic threads to hold it together and keep the heat of the day's sun in. It's the empty loneliness of the space and Mili's force of will that ensures any real privacy.]
no subject
He tries to be happy when they're here. Sometimes he is. They're an interesting kid, a sweet child. They try really hard to make things nice for him. But his heart still aches. He still wishes for home so desperately. The only difference now is that he also wishes for Hell. Just one part of Hell.
Their voice rouses him.]
Buenas tardes, Mili. You may, of course.
[He can't recall that he's ever said no.
The little fairy is looking more fairylike every day. He thinks he's maybe the opposite. He's let him go even more dishevelled. His hair's been growing. He still offers a smile.]
And how are we today, Milito?
no subject
They bounce over to him and fight back the urge to throw their arms around him. In the end, Mili's still probably settling in too close and being too familiar.]
Mmm! I think my sister's in love. It's very sweet.
[...Which doesn't directly answer his question, but Coco being happy means they're happy. They love! their family!! This, though, is troubling, even if him managing to smile at them makes them happy.]
What about you? Are you okay?
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Even if they do get too close for comfort.]
Oh? That does sound sweet. You'll have to send her my congratulations then.
[They don't answer his question but he knows well they're the type to pick up the feelings of others-- literally and metaphorically. He could imagine them deciding it's a good day based solely on things happening to others.]
I'm fine. The weather's nice today. The breeze feels nice on the wings.
no subject
We can start stretching it properly soon, maybe.
[Make sure that it still remembered how to work right. But actual flying isn't a priority, especially without that special person from so many of the memories -- a relief, as Mili wasn't very good at it themself. In fact, despite seeing them with wings for a while now, Héctor might note that the kid's stayed pretty solidly on the ground except to climb something or leap into the stream.
Lopsided, sympathetic smile in place, they start to lift their hand in a desire to touch his face tenderly. Another habit they've picked up in this family.]
I think you won't be able to feel the wind through your hair, soon. Even that might get stuck in there.
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[They've been cramped up from lack of use, something he'd have never imagined dealing with. It was hard to even imagine getting new limbs.
He's noticed that they don't fly. If he hasn't asked by now, he thinks he might soon. Why have wings and not use them? But then, it kind of brought a sense of solidarity too. The ground was a good place to be. It was solid and steady and he knew how to move on his feet much better.
They start to reach and he tenses, but doesn't shy away. It's a habit for them as much as it's an attempt for him to practice. Be normal. Not a demon, not Dodger, just a kind child who wants to reach out.
Their comment makes him laugh, breaking just a little of his tension.]
You think so? The poor wind. [His eyes open and reaches for a strand.] I suppose it has gotten a bit long. I haven't really felt the urge to try and chop it.
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Being long isn't the problem! My hair used to be so long...
[It's still got that overgrown look to it, obviously, but Mili's hair can't really compare to Wist's. Even with their shapeshifting, it had taken years to reach a point where they were able to keep it that long without being a bother to anyone. Their parents had done their best to prepare them, no longer helping when they were old enough to wrestle with a comb or brush without making a mess of things in their struggle, and later on Poe had reluctantly helped when it got to be too much to handle.]
You don't need to cut it. Not if you don't want. [Mili smoothes some hair back, pausing at the first hint of a snag to undo it as painlessly as possible. In an ideal world, there'd be no more pain for him ever.] I can help.
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[He wears a teasing smile. The conversation helps to keep his mind off the contact. Their thumb traces over a scar, one of the ones he gave himself. It wasn't willingly, but then, few of them really were.
They probably have that memory, he realizes, causing his smile to slip for a moment. They'd only removed specific ones, the ones he was too ashamed of. The story behind that scar was just the usual horror; Squalo taking him hostage to get back against Dodger, who thought sacrificing him was a fair deal for getting Squalo's friendship back, up until he couldn't take it and went on the hunt. He'd cut himself after Squalo's badgering to make it look good, and he'd glared the whole time because both of these bastards thought less of him than they did of hurting each other. He'd almost thought he could salvage that day, talk Dodger down once he showed up the way he eventually talked Squalo down. But no, it took a second for Dodger to rip Squalo in half before his eyes.
He doesn't want to think about all that. The only reason he doesn't shake his head is because Mili is still touching him.]
What do you have mind? Anything in particular?
no subject
We can play ‘knots’! It’s a game I made up when I was little. Only it’ll be better this time because there’s someone else to play it with.
[And maybe they’ll put little braids in here and there. They know it will ache, but...would it be nice to think about them around another, instead of just waiting?]
When you find a knot, you think about what sort of secret got all tangled up in there, and while you’re thinking really, really hard you set it free! Sometimes the secrets aren’t as secret as others.
[They lean away finally and hop back onto their feet, fluffing their own mane for show.]
I mostly grew out of my knots! But I bet my hair remembers how, so you can have something to do, too! If you want. It’s more fun when they aren’t your own.
no subject
He laughs when they fluff up. He doesn't know what they mean when they say their hair remembers, but it's a child thing or a fairy thing.]
Sounds like a very interesting game. So, small nice secrets then? To be honest, I don't know that I've kept many nice things a secret.
[Just a few. Just because it seemed best.]
But I'm sure I'll come up with something. Let's play then. Show me how it's done and I'll follow after you.
no subject
[That in itself is something of a secret, they muse, but they'd had to make up for the tangle they'd already undone for him. As fresh as the memory seems with their ability for recall, it's so strange to think about the times they'd broken down in quiet, furious tears and tried to hide it. Even if they hadn't understood why, it was always better for them to hide that sort of thing back then, which is part of why knots became such a frequent game.]
It's a game you can play however you want.
[With a jaunt to their steps, they circle around so that they're in a good position for finding all those snags they can neatly sort out again. Mili gently pets his head first to try and acclimate him more to the idea of them being there. Then, even more gently, they slip fingers between messy strands and start to comb. Their voice is soft when they speak again, and there's almost a low, rumbling undertone along with it. Not quite a purr, but close enough.]
I had lots and lots, so I had to find all kinds of secrets to say. Changelings always, always get lots of tangles. It's one of the ways you can tell them apart from real children. I think... [The tangle is undone, and they smile into their secret.] ...that maybe I don't get so many anymore because I'm a 'real' child now. Mamá and Papá love me.
no subject
He doesn't want to find angry secrets now. He doesn't want to see them scared of him-- or sad for him. He's already done enough.
He smiles at the little pat. His wings ruffle just slightly and shift so they're a little more out of the way while Mili gets in close. The purr is an inhuman thing, but it's a sweet thing, like the little noises Nekane made sometimes, old bird instincts slipping out before they'd become embarrassed by it.
But, it's when they comb through his hair that his breath shudders out and his eyes close out of real relief. One kind of touch not ruined. Demons might pull but only Nekane would be so careful. Nekane and Mili. It's a moment before he speaks.]
Is that what makes a real child? To be loved? [It makes his heart ache.] We had something in common then. I don't think I was ever a real child. But I never-- no, that's a lie. I minded a lot. In that place, there were many things that made us tell secrets. You know, that was the first secret I said? It was how I met my dear friend.
[They know that. They know he met Nekane while locked in a room, eyes bleeding, head aching, begging them to please, please, say something so it would stop. And they caved simply because he was willing to give more. It had to be fair.]
I'm not sure what secrets I'll find when it's my turn. You know so many. Even that one, that I was... resentful. [His hand moves to his arm where the word has been carved in.] I'm not anymore. I found something good, like you. I'm glad that your new family's been good to you too.
no subject
That's silly. Telling a secret is telling a secret, even if someone already knows. [And some of it was put away in boxes. There were the boxes they weren't allowed to open, of course, but also a few that just held clutter so they wouldn't get too heavy and confused under the weight of all they'd learned.] Like -- hmmm... [They hum while they locate another knot and think.] I visit a friend my family doesn't know about. I like him a lot, even if he isn't always fun. He makes my heart thankful.
no subject
[He hums in thought. And then he listens, and they praise him without even saying his name. This sweet child. This good kid. What a heartbreak it is to know they were ever anything but loved. What a relief to know they're loved now.
He laughs a little to hear them admit he's not always fun, then smiles softly again.]
Well, I have a friend I like a lot too. They visit me. I am very surprised they don't mind the lack of fun. But I worry, to think I am their secret. I think of their family, and the worry they must have when that friend is away.
no subject
My family probably worries when I visit you, but they worry when I go to the plaza, or play with toys my tíos made, or tell tales of riding dande-lions to flee from wild birds. There are a lot of dangerous things in the world. Dangerous people. Really, really horrible stuff that just happens sometimes, and no one can give you the answer you need to be okay. There are lots of reasons to be worried. Every new person I meet, I learn ten thousand more. Now I know you, and I'd worry about you, not getting to see you while I still worried my family some other way. I'd be worried if they weren't worried, because...I think worry is the fear of having to miss. I'd like to be missed when I'm gone.
[They know his struggles. They don't mean to take a knife to his heart while their hands gently lull him into vulnerability. That also know that...things have changed, now. And something they've always known is that they can't be dishonest.]
Until I am, I think I want to make sure...there are people that know I'll miss them, too. Moments I'll always carry with me.
no subject
Really, really horrible stuff that just happens sometimes, and no one can give you the answer you need to be okay. His eyes close at that. Another truth, for no one, not even God, had helped him there.
It feels like tearing several wounds before the balm is applied. Those last words are so sweet, even as they sting. He won't weep in front of a child. He won't.]
I'm not good at hugs anymore. I feel out of control, less me, like my skin is crawling. But part of me still wants to. When my friend says things like that, I want to hug them, but I'm afraid of how afraid I will seem.
no subject
They teeter on another secret, but in the end they decide to try and present a solution first. Fewer things to worry about, maybe.]
I'm going to do some magic, but not to you. Don't worry.
[They just don't want to surprise him more than they have to.
Coming from behind him pads a dog at about knee level, head a little lowered submissively. Its fluffy black fur has a gentle curl to it, and along its back in grey there's the suggestion of the same pattern on Mili's mothy wings. It shares the little antennae, too.
Mili peeks up at him from wide, rich brown eyes, and gives a little wag of their tail. Their voice is the same, if a little hesitant.]
Is this better...?
[Everybody likes dogs. Dogs were gentle and comforting! Not like cats.]
no subject
Okay.
[He's a little confused as to what magic might be coming, up until he sees the dog appear. He blinks down at it. He can't help but let out a faint laugh of surprise.
Tentatively, he reaches out and runs a hand over the fairy-dog's head.]
... A little.
[He draws back, only to pat his lap.]
Care to come up?