[ Once, they had been content with that ending. They exceeded what they'd been made for and paid the price, because impossible things required great cost.
They had been content, or at least they had felt something close to it. There had been time to rest, after their endless struggle; a sleep and existence that lasted something like forever.
But they were never really happy. They pushed that away (it's not for them).
This place has given them some semblance of it, and it feels painful all over again.
She pulls them into a tighter hug and they stiffen, startled; it's still not a gesture they're used to. But they relax quickly, fearful that she might think it's a rejection; they cling more tightly to her, burying their masked face in her shoulder. They give off the impression that if they were able to cry, they would be.
It's an unrestrained and entirely childish reaction. All their barriers and defenses have broken away so easily in the face of this simple gesture.
(Part of them, the part that had been violently brought to the surface not so long ago, finds it...discomforting. An idea instilled. A failed vessel. Weak for affection and for love, not unfeeling as they were made to be.
The scars of their father's ideals still remain.)
She understands, she doesn't begrudge them. The feelings are hot and painful in their chest, a twisted and complicated knot.
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They had been content, or at least they had felt something close to it. There had been time to rest, after their endless struggle; a sleep and existence that lasted something like forever.
But they were never really happy. They pushed that away (it's not for them).
This place has given them some semblance of it, and it feels painful all over again.
She pulls them into a tighter hug and they stiffen, startled; it's still not a gesture they're used to. But they relax quickly, fearful that she might think it's a rejection; they cling more tightly to her, burying their masked face in her shoulder. They give off the impression that if they were able to cry, they would be.
It's an unrestrained and entirely childish reaction. All their barriers and defenses have broken away so easily in the face of this simple gesture.
(Part of them, the part that had been violently brought to the surface not so long ago, finds it...discomforting. An idea instilled. A failed vessel. Weak for affection and for love, not unfeeling as they were made to be.
The scars of their father's ideals still remain.)
She understands, she doesn't begrudge them. The feelings are hot and painful in their chest, a twisted and complicated knot.
I didn't want to leave.
You shouldn't have to forgive me. ]