Sometimes, words failed to convey what the heart felt; and that was all right; that was one of the purposes of dreams, to give such emotions an outlet; so Morpheus understood...he understood without the woman needing to say anything. A small smile and nod of approval followed the boy's apology to his mother. He knew how terrifying it was to have one's child run off to a stranger--despite the child being familiar with the figure, it was still a stranger to the parent and that terror lingered, that fear lingered, and Morpheus (much like his brother) understood those fears fueled nightmares.
But perhaps the smile could also be offered as a reassurance to the woman. He meant no harm, truly he didn't, and he would remain right there for her approach; he would not run off with the boy...but it was also a silent reassurance that, no, he wasn't taking him from her. His birth mother may have become twisted, morphing into a horrible person, but this woman? She meant well. She became a mother when she by no means had to become one. She could have just as easily given the boy to authorities and let it be, but no, she took up that mantle and had his respect.
And they had...much to discuss; very much to discuss--but not here, not now, not in front of little Siwoo who was still too young to truly grasp the magnitude to the subject they had yet to breach; no, that conversation could be tabled for another time.
For now, this was the first time he had held his son. Physically held his son. Oh, he had many times in the Dreaming Realm, but this was a different experience, to feel the boy in his arms for the first time; it was phenomenal--but he had to be careful not to squeeze too hard, oh no; precious cargo. He still held him close, though, on his hip and easily supported with one arm while the woman took his hand. His own grasp was gentle but firm, warm, and yes, that power perhaps left a subtle tingle beneath her skin and a serenity within her soul--perhaps even the world itself seemed brighter, colors more saturated, the air a bit cleaner and sweeter, a sense of home with only a touch.
"Ms. Wing," he softly echoed back to her once she had spoken his name, releasing her hand in favor of folding that arm around his son, resting his palm to the boy's back. "Leto has told me much about you and Siwoo. I am honored to finally meet you in person." Odd, perhaps, for a god to admit he was honored to meet anyone--but then, this woman had raised his child. Even with her humble protests, he shook his head slowly in dismissal.
"Thank you," he said again, still gentle, but a bit firmer, insistent that she accept his gratitude, that she understand the magnitude of what she had done. "We have much to discuss...later," he added quietly, because for now...his attention shifted back to his youngest son. "You have a puppy now, but did you know you also have a big brother?"
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