smokescreen [samael]

The snow crunched beneath immense weight and broad paws. The familiar scent of her children's father rolled into her nostrils. Once they had been lovers, but something had changed. Upon her return, her children had been filled with dreams and Samael had been draped in a shawl of coldness. He had been standoffish, perhaps even rude. It had driven her off, forced her to the perimeters of her children's lives. She hadn't wanted her children to see conflict between their parents. Not like she'd seen, when her mother had died. When her father had abandoned them. She wanted the world for them, and for love to grow between them all. Not for her family to splinter again.

Pale features turned over her features, dark lashes rimming her moonstone gaze. Samael emerged from the whiteout, his face battered and raw with fresh wounds. The words were punched from her chest. "Oh, Samael.." She breathed, crooned. So soft, so mournful. He had done something horrible, and he bore the marks. The phantom turned to face him, delicate form melting into the snowfall at its edges. Brows pinched together, she frowned up at his tattered flesh. What had he done?

YOU ONLY GET WHAT YOU GRIEVE