❝𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄, 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓?❞
❝𝐈 𝐖𝐎𝐍'𝐓.❞
Lies.
▔▔▔▔▔★▔▔▔▔▔
"I love you..." You whispered and leaned close, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It caught him by surprise, but he quickly kissed back. It was supposed to be a sweet...
𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐀𝐘 that the love and strength of a family can conquer anything. But the definition of family is often debated, majority by those who want to abuse the title because of blood and the tree of lineage. Family; a collection of people related by love, trust and respect who provides security and comfort. That is family. And it can consist of blood, but only if earned by mutual love and respect. And as it is known, time together as a family is a gift.
Home; a place where you are always welcome and surrounded by those who love you. A place where you feel you belong, a place where you share vulnerability, laughter and happiness. Home can be a place, home can be a person, home can even be a thing— it can be all because home is a sentimental feeling that can be attached to anything.
Unfortunately though, the Patterson coven had a long history of having a ruined family and destroyed homes. A curse, it was said to be. Peace was a blessing, but it was never wished upon them. The bloodline of the most gifted, was also the most tainted. Perhaps there was once a time of serenity and unity with doves of love, but that was long ago.
The ruins of being special, is that everyone wants to be special, too. Not all for the right reasons, and some act on their worst intentions, uncaring of the harm they're doing. It's inhumane. And then when caught— when what they have done to others, be brought back on themselves— they are devastated.
Some plead for forgiveness knowing they'll repeat instead of repent, some don't even attempt to hide their repugnant nature and act of aggression and rage. And few understand the actions, regret them, but don't want to accept the consequences. Either that, or they don't want to accept the full extent of their consequences, only a portion that they can hardly handle but inevitably persevere. All of which doesn't change the effects of what they did and who they inescapably are.
There was a story. Several. Stories untold. Those stories are details of a bigger one as a collective. They are the roots for the tree to grow and create branches full of new stories. Those untold stories are apart of a journey, an adventure that was not quite finished yet. And those untold stories would be brought to light when the quest is fulfilled.
The story of the Khosian Coven.
The sun peeked through the closed curtains of the room, showing morning to the bedroom. Slowly, your conscious returned to you and you blinked your eyes open. You inhaled and rub your eyes, moving just a bit. The action made you aware that you were not lying in bed alone.
There were strong arms wrapped around you and held you close to a muscled body. You turned in these arms, being careful not to awaken the one behind you, your boyfriend. He was a pretty light sleeper, especially when sleeping with you.
