Damaged Oddity

Xairo blinked at her words, his gaze finding hers. He searched for understanding within their emerald depths. His mother made a pretty convincing argument that fear didn’t equal weakness, but it still didn’t completely ease the notion that he thought he should be fearless. But his expression did soften some as he truly began to grasp what she was saying. He swallowed hard, a brief glimmer of reassurance lighting his toxic green gaze. He felt tension seping out of his muscles as the gravity of what he’d achieved began to settle in- as his mother continued to clean his wound.

The boy’s gaze lingered on Absinth, a flicker of guilt passing over his face as he took in her words. He was quiet for a moment, his mind struggling to process the thought. But it was the sheer gentleness in her voice, undeterred by the hardness of her expression, that finally broke through the barriers he'd erected around himself. He looked up at her, his eyes shimmering pools of green, mirroring her own, and for the first time since the trial, he allowed himself to feel the intense clawing pain that thrummed with his heartbeat, the cold fear that had settled in his bones, and the warm relief flooding him at her comforting words. His breath hitched as raw emotions flooded him, a stifling lump formed in his throat, making it difficult to swallow. "B-but," he stammered out, clearly wrestling with his thoughts, eyes reflecting the internal turmoil.

He absorbed her words, his young mind attempting to understand their weight. He felt her nudge, rough but warm against his side, a reminder of the love that underpinned even her harshest lessons. He turned his gaze back to her, the pain and confusion in his eyes slowly replaced with a spark of determination, flaring into a spirited fire. Still, the thought of what he had done, what it meant, was overwhelming. A newfound understanding filled him – his life was not to be controlled by the Sultan's commandments but forged by his own courage and will.

He looked into her eyes, seeing the unwavering faith she had in him, and slowly - as her words sank in - he began to feel a semblance of strength creeping back into his battered body. He nodded, a small but fervent affirmation of his will to survive, to overcome. "Yes," he murmured softly, his voice hoarse but steady, "I will learn to use it." He leaned into her comforting touch, the softness of her fur against his own offering a soothing reprieve from the dull throbbing of his wounds.

"Xairo Saxe"