REPERCUSSIONS

4◇ WATCHED

♡ I nurture. Not an unknown ageless dance that I dance for nothing but something ♡
SIGN: Ami_yaye.

Pain.

No, really, pain. Many versions of pain. Who knew blinking can bring such hurt?

Pain, help from unfamiliar faces that until then, did not exist. Not just in the general but with everything. Physical and mental pain that is the perfect description.

But she. No them. Old and young kin. The former first he beheld, later talked his brains confused but they helped him when he thought...

Those sons of - in time. Healing first.

So soft! If he- no, when. When he is well to leave they must share the secret to this bedding. T

"I'm sorry, marry you!"

She was not unpleasant looking but she was too young, he was too young!

"Only said... was to bring you back"  was all he could make between hevals. Her palms high fiving smooth floor of brown.

Her laughter was not unpleasant either but his wounded heart could take less stress. He said as much to her amusement.

"Just remain in this world then! And grandmother said I'll make the best wife". Aaa....must be important if she is poignant.

"Reason? You already have the young prince". Surviving, he wondered how he could thank her, her grandmother, enough until he became her personal unsolicited therapist. Always seeking him, talking as her grandmother work on his wound or herself. Now he felt he had lived here this long. With eyes closed, he saw the big market, which days to get the best, freshest of foodstuff. Where so and so lived, the structure of their dwelling and so on and so on.

One thing. Each tale must one or another way trace back to... the young prince.

"Kaka says you will be alright. Thou-"

"Nothing is a guarantee. I thought-"

Her frowning face was warmth to his dreaded near death. Didn't know her, she didn't know him. Yet. Ignorant of her feelings for the young prince as well.

Her confused curious face made his smile grew. He'll just watch them tell their own story.

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His mother. Yes she was indeed, and every mother should know her child. Held him when he was born, suckled from her whilst holding her eyes with the look of worship, ageless goddess.

Crawling, stumbling, then walking, he would always turn around with that look, back to her. Grew so suddenly, then she was a mother again but he was her first and her his only.

She knew her son.

She knew her husband too.

He watched her son. At first as a father would a son but slowly as a progenitor and now more of the latter.

So hard on her first boy, his heir.

A continuous ritual he did to perfect him for leadership. The boy always watched his father, then progeny for affirmation but now he has broke bread.

He no longer watched his father, oh he never stopped watching, their strong-willed son. His eyes just shifted elsewhere.

"Mma the others and I leave for hunting".