IP: 82.19.140.112
Posted on June 13, 2014 at 08:13:51 PM by flynn
 “You shouldn’t encourage him,” he said in playful sternness, “he needs to sit down eventually or he’ll keel over.” Denahi reappeared moments later, a bright yellow ball, about the size of an apple, held in his mouth. He slid to a halt at Flynn’s feet before turning around to face Ro, and placed the ball down in front of the otter. He carefully moved back a couple of paces, watching his paws, before stopping and looked up, his ears flicked forwards and his miss-matched eyes gleaming. “Play!” he enthused, “roll it, roll it, roll it.” Flynn burst out laughing. His amusement buoyed his mood enough that when he resumed his conversation with Birch, he was able to mention Castiel without falling under the influence of a dark cloud. It lingered so close to him these days that he had grown to expect it. “Dad came from Earth,” he explained, “he met my mother on his first day in Shaman, and almost jumped out of his skin when her raccoon showed up and started talking to him. I used to love the story when I was a kid...he’d act it out.” Flynn could see it; an eight year old him sitting in bed with the duvet over his knees in their little house in the Labyrinth and his father leaping around the room miming his surprise with flailing arms. His heart twisted a little and his smile withered; he should be doing that sort of thing for Dylan and Danny whilst they were still young enough. Would they have the same kind of memories? What about his life could he share with them that would make them laugh? He had not had the happiest of lives, and the golden glow of his childhood had often been the only thing that kept him going. Birch’s feigned despair over Torram and hammers made Flynn laugh again, and he nodded in fervent understanding. “I know how you feel. I have one kid brother who hangs around scalpels and needles and another who wants to learn how to use a sword. Neither are particularly relaxing experiences, all things considered.” Birch loved Torram, he could tell that much from the look in her eyes; at least the boy had a mother figure, and one he could be proud of. “I’d love to meet Torram sometime,” Flynn said, “you’ll both have to come to our rooms one evening, Renn, my sister, will be delighted to have guests.” A hero? Flynn didn’t feel like much of a hero. His thoughts turned once again to the coin sitting in the bottom of the wooden trunk in his bedroom, unused, its presence nagging at his conscience. A hero would not have done what he had done. He sighed, “I’m proud of them,” he explained, “both of them; I just worry I’m going to mess up. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve alienated a brother...I see Henry in them sometimes, just for a second, and I pray to Aura that they don’t make the same mistakes he...we did. I don’t even know if he’s alive.”  |
Replies:
- needs a new tag toooo... - By BIRCH June 14, 2014 at 01:11:24 AM
- and one door swinging closed - By flynn June 15, 2014 at 01:58:28 AM
- merr - By BIRCH June 20, 2014 at 11:40:20 PM
- and one door swinging closed - By flynn June 15, 2014 at 01:58:28 AM
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