08-13-2010, 04:14 PM
Pripyat had the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. Although the shade of blue circling his pupil to form that beautiful iris reminded her of her father's eye color, it was not exactly an identical shade. Geneva contemplated that for a few seconds as her son's eyes searched her face, probably anticipating what she might have to say. Geneva began without any further preamble. "I think that it is time to leave the coast," she said, her eyes sweeping over the crystalline colors of the ocean and the deep blue of the sky. This sandy, warm place had been their quiet haven for many months, but time had changed the circumstances and their needs.
The lime-eyed wolfess returned her gaze to her son's face. "Before you were born, I lived with your father, a bit farther from here, where he lives now," she told him, hoping that he understood where this was going. She wanted to give Pripyat a bit of background knowledge about her life before, and about the place she was proposing they should go to live. This had been the only home that Pripyat had known in his short life span, and the only home that she had known as a mother. This place represented security to her, but it was also isolated. Pripyat had wandered to the shoreline, just a small distance away from the lighthouse. But how long would the sand and waves hold wonder for him? How long would it be until he craved more? She didn't want to hold him back, but at the same time she didn't want to abandon the security of this place or to take away Pripyat's sense of familiarity with it.
"What do you think of your father?" Geneva asked lightly, noting his facial expression and reaction curiously. They had not interacted much. She knew that once they had seen each other alone, when Pripyat had ventured on to the shore by himself. Geneva did not want to force her son into anything, and if his response betrayed even the slightest hint of uncertainty, she would stave off from this course of action. "What would you think of living with him?"
The lime-eyed wolfess returned her gaze to her son's face. "Before you were born, I lived with your father, a bit farther from here, where he lives now," she told him, hoping that he understood where this was going. She wanted to give Pripyat a bit of background knowledge about her life before, and about the place she was proposing they should go to live. This had been the only home that Pripyat had known in his short life span, and the only home that she had known as a mother. This place represented security to her, but it was also isolated. Pripyat had wandered to the shoreline, just a small distance away from the lighthouse. But how long would the sand and waves hold wonder for him? How long would it be until he craved more? She didn't want to hold him back, but at the same time she didn't want to abandon the security of this place or to take away Pripyat's sense of familiarity with it.
"What do you think of your father?" Geneva asked lightly, noting his facial expression and reaction curiously. They had not interacted much. She knew that once they had seen each other alone, when Pripyat had ventured on to the shore by himself. Geneva did not want to force her son into anything, and if his response betrayed even the slightest hint of uncertainty, she would stave off from this course of action. "What would you think of living with him?"