Even the child that a-Yuan had been did not so quickly claim the expanse of
his lap, perhaps wise to the bony nature of it, perhaps inclined to cling
and be embraced, held by everyone, until there'd been no one at all. It's
no memory of his mother that brings his hand up, that sends questing,
uncertain fingers stroking down, over, through hair as dark as midnight's
silence. It's his shijie, her memory and care leading the way, decades
since she's passed. Less than a year for how he feels it, and the time
passing did not create for him acceptance.
Still, he knows this, and with Lan Zhan claiming his lap as a domain of
restiveness, of comfort in spite of it's lacks, his hand strokes, caresses,
follows the curves of his soulmate's head as faithfully as he's followed
his blade.
And he hums, quietly, no song of summons, no song of power, but a lullaby,
and it will be the water that feeds them, empty bellied and gaunt, until
they learn to fatten on love's largess. Full of aches and pains and knees
that won't remember straightening, backs that fail the same, but limbs gone
quiet with meditation, this is how they'll stay
Until morning, or the end of the world Whichever arrives first
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Even the child that a-Yuan had been did not so quickly claim the expanse of his lap, perhaps wise to the bony nature of it, perhaps inclined to cling and be embraced, held by everyone, until there'd been no one at all. It's no memory of his mother that brings his hand up, that sends questing, uncertain fingers stroking down, over, through hair as dark as midnight's silence. It's his shijie, her memory and care leading the way, decades since she's passed. Less than a year for how he feels it, and the time passing did not create for him acceptance.
Still, he knows this, and with Lan Zhan claiming his lap as a domain of restiveness, of comfort in spite of it's lacks, his hand strokes, caresses, follows the curves of his soulmate's head as faithfully as he's followed his blade.
And he hums, quietly, no song of summons, no song of power, but a lullaby, and it will be the water that feeds them, empty bellied and gaunt, until they learn to fatten on love's largess. Full of aches and pains and knees that won't remember straightening, backs that fail the same, but limbs gone quiet with meditation, this is how they'll stay
Until morning, or the end of the world Whichever arrives first