Damaged Oddity

Absinth's heart ached at the sight of her son's struggle, his small form trembling as he recounted the events. She could sympathize, but her gaze remained steady, filled with both compassion and unwavering strength as she listened to him speak. As his eyes flashed with surprise at her touch, she leaned in closer, her voice a soothing murmur. Her nose gently brushed against his cheek, grounding him in her presence. She’d not have him fear for his life while she remained so close. “Shhh, Xairo. Fear does not equal weakness. It makes you aware of danger; it means you have something worth fighting for. A reason you want to live. Only the dead have the right to feel nothing at all, because they simply can’t.”

Her emerald eyes met his, holding his gaze firmly. Her expression was warm, but as intense as the woman had always been. “You are strong, and you will continue to gain strength. You will fight bigger, scarier foes, and you’ll come out on top. You fought hard and you survived. That’s a lot of what life is. Fighting. Winning. Surviving.” She listened as he spoke of Sultan, her expression hardening slightly. Her voice, however, remained gentle as she fought to not pass on her anger to the already angry boy. It wouldn't do to have him go after Sephiran, out of anger, or spew words better left unsaid. Though that kind of rational thinking had always been her weak point. “The Sultan has an appetite for testing others with his words, and pushing you to your limits. But know this, my son: you are not defined by his words. You are defined by your actions and your spirit.”

Absinth’s gaze softened as she nuzzled him again, her voice a low, comforting rumble. “You stood your ground, Xairo. Hate you? Do you think he would like you more if you tucked your tail and bowed your head like he wants? Or did you show him who you were, by tooth and claw? The Sultan is cruel in ways you haven’t experienced yet, yes. I cannot always protect you when you are out of my sight, but if he tests you again, you prove you never needed to earn your life. It has always been your own. Make something of it.”

Her eyes gleamed with fierce pride as she spoke. Her goal to uplift the boy, to instill a confidence into him that had been shattered by Sephiran. Or at least, to sow the seeds of it. “You have the heart of a warrior, my love. You are not alone, either.” Gently, she licked his wounds once more, her touch tender yet firm as she took him tenderly into her arms, rolling back unto spine while careful not to jostle his wounds. “Take your fear and use it, until it forges into something else, something powerful.” The fae said, her nose wiggling into his cheek as she sought his eyes; the beginnings of who he could come to be as if she could see it.

wormwood