hi dad
in another life, he'd commanded fear and respect by something as simple as being in a room. a lifetime ago, he'd been able to make people wither with a glance, beg and plead as he walked toward them through the flames he moved through as though they were a part of him. people have maintained a healthy fear of him even in prison- the guards had a hilarious tendency to scuttle and scramble like roaches should he have even moved too quickly- power dampeners or not.
but something about the sight of his boy reduces him to a puddle. maybe it's the fact warren had been a squishy-faced little baby the last time he'd gotten to see him, that he's now taller than him, that every missed birthday and milestone seem to hit him in the chest at the same time and leave him struggling for breath- his tears are nothing but steam.
he surges forward like the tide, arms firmly locking around his son, his beautiful boy who he's missed so much it feels like an ache somedays.
