❛ that’s not your choice to make, she’s gone. ❜ lyric’s doused in both frustration and concern. it’s well-intended, not latent with malice. he’s attempted managing this subject with hands gentle enough to nurture the broken, with delicate suggestions, and culled aberrations, distractions meant to keep the warlock at bay. but, today. oh today, chatter fills his mind; it drowns and overwhelms cosset thoughts like tumultuous waves burying a meager sailboat. it instills frustration in bleached bone, tenses muscles, and induces an ache unlike one he’s ever experienced. this musing has plagued him since hearing of the boy’s desire, and while he would’ve preferred to put this in more benevolent terms, emiliano needs to hear it. that is what ruptured his ability and willingness to coddle. this notion of reanimating the dead must wither.
voice of the future bellows, echoes within caverns of his mind : this is how you will lose him. this is your own fault.
she’s gone: as in, dead. as in buried six feet under, coffin tucked into the earth, body in a state of decay, festering while her soul’s misleadingly vigorous in the underworld. cerberus remembers her. greeting her at encrusted gates. even in death, she channeled warmth; a breath of fresh air amongst dilapidated souls. / that is not your choice to make: as in you can’t revive the lamented. you can’t play god; the world has many. that’s enough. however . . . would it be so terrible to make the mistake of letting his mother slip past the gates? he mustn’t. musn’t betray hades, he would never. but in remaining loyal to one, he’s privy to another’s pain. an ache thrashes betwixt splintered ribs knowing that, in theory, he could help. happiness is all he wishes upon the witch.
fear burrows in his chest. fear that emiliano will still try to revive her, and that he, himself, will be forced to stop this with abraded knuckles and violence unbecoming of the fondness held for the witch. he fears that in speaking his mind now, he’s severing their bond. deft fingers yearn to grasp the boy’s hand. he refrains. ❛ you know she’s not allowed to leave. ❜ ( you know i can’t let her. you know i can’t let her. you know i can’t let her go. you know what will happen if you try. ) words soften, sorrow nestles in umber hues. he doesn’t want to fight. not with him. not if he doesn’t have to. but that decision rests solely ‘pon em’s shoulders. ❛ i don’t — i don’t how to make this any clearer, just. please give this up. please. ❜
voice of the past cackles hoarsely, echoes in response : who’s to say he hasn’t lost him already? @elmagc.
