What we build is broken

He smiled at the sight of his son, though he was looking more and more like his mother every day. Filling out, looking healthier and more adult. He’d always remember the little runt huddled in their den. Needing the most care, and hating to be coddled. So little, so cute and helpless that Mort’s heart had hurt. It hurt now, too, for entirely different reasons.

“Your own office, eh?” He asked, pride in his voice as he followed after his growing son. He settled in across from Oleander, and looked at the boy carefully. There was no judgement in his features, just love. “I hear you have a new helper. Do you want to tell me about her?”


"Mortis Fatalis"