@serapostle offered : Slender hands reach out, fingers running through the soft white fur of her cheeks and grazing over her ears, then burying themselves in the thick fur of her neck. He leans in slowly, breathes out, and presses his forehead to hers. "Hello, mother. It's been a long time."
she remembered his face, remember many faces, but above all she remembered his. after all that is what mother’s are wont to do, what they must do, they must remember all that has been and all that never will be, for fortune favours the ancient and hallowed. favours those who love with all their heart, until their hearts sputter out into entropic wreaths. she always recognised his eyes for the red of them glittered and basked, appearing as blood printed upon untouched snow. red is always thought to be such a violent colour, but he knew only tender touches and the press of fingers against fur. he knew love before he knew violence.
❝ you are here. ❞ mother is here too, and she embraces him with a thousand arms and a thousand pale flames. bringing her tail around to his sides she pulls him closer so she might reach over and brush his hair with the length of her snout. she missed him dearly, perhaps far greater than even he may realise. missed him the way the sun misses those faint, flickering stars beyond. she counts them as they go out, remembers their names, cherishes what ghost lights they leave behind. but he has returned, and that is what matters, what will always matter. ❝ i hope you have dreamed pleasant dreams, my child. ❞
