[ Wrathion has heard these words before, yet there is no pleasure in hearing them again.
He had hoped for some change, for some mistake, for it to be different this time. Instead, the pain continues.
Grief knots in his stomach. How do you process grief for something which yet lives? How do you mourn creatures which still crawl over you and beg for your attention? He turns his gaze on Aiva, watching him intently, then slowly shifts his weight -- sinks to lay down so the children can better use him as a climbing frame. There is no dignity in it, but neither is there dignity in whatever is being done here. In whatever deprives them of life, of the chance to be children. To grow into whoever they will become. ]
Yet they live.
[ Wrathion curls his body a little, as if shielding the children from something as they explore him. ]
Their hearts beat. They move, breathe. Tell me. How do you define death? What is it your senses tell you? They lack in something?
no subject
He had hoped for some change, for some mistake, for it to be different this time. Instead, the pain continues.
Grief knots in his stomach. How do you process grief for something which yet lives? How do you mourn creatures which still crawl over you and beg for your attention? He turns his gaze on Aiva, watching him intently, then slowly shifts his weight -- sinks to lay down so the children can better use him as a climbing frame. There is no dignity in it, but neither is there dignity in whatever is being done here. In whatever deprives them of life, of the chance to be children. To grow into whoever they will become. ]
Yet they live.
[ Wrathion curls his body a little, as if shielding the children from something as they explore him. ]
Their hearts beat. They move, breathe. Tell me. How do you define death? What is it your senses tell you? They lack in something?