La Saoire Na Mairbh

Pripyat Soul · 01-23-2011, 07:05 PM

[html]

SSWM: 980

His words had died away without comment from any of the assembled souls, each of their stories seemed to come one after the other without interruption. Ocean eyes found no disapproval from his mother and father, the two beings that his gaze seemed to keep falling back upon. Jefferson remained stoic as ever and Pripyat exhaled heavily in near frustration, almost disappointed that his father had given no reaction, but the smiled his mother offered soothed him. For all the times Jefferson fell short in dealing out the words or gestures of priase Pripyat longed for, his mother was there to provide enough for both parents. And yet it was Jefferson’s pride and approval the ashen boy strove for ardently. That he had his mother’s approval helped to ease the unsettled feeling because perhaps through his mother’s approval he had Jefferson’s. So long as the man did not out rightly chastised or criticized Pripyat the boy knew his father loved him, was proud… yet it would have been nice to see the expression of such pride more often. After smiling back to his mother, his young mind was somewhat at peace as he closed his eyes and listened to the words of the others, surprised at how many of their voices he recognized. Those who had been in the pack when he was born, he knew them all, if only through his parents, and he gave them all the respect they deserved.

Try as he might the Phoenix Valley youth could not focus so closely on their stories of loss. Xeris’s story registered with him, but stirred no emotion despite his closeness with the lady. Another time perhaps they would talk of it, but not now, not in front of everyone. Adonia did not have very much to say and Noah did not speak at all, yet no one seemed to notice or mind. Pendzez, Ty, Tala and the others all spoke in turn. The voices he had known since childhood and a few that were more unfamiliar to him rising and falling around the circle they had formed. Yet it was only Addison’s story that put any true grief into his heart. When she spoke his eyes slid open, gazing turning sharply upon his adoptive sister, wanting to speak out loud then. Shout actually. Scream maybe. Grace was gone? He had noticed that her scent had faded, but that Addison hadn’t sent her away or someone hadn’t come to take her never occurred to the boy. Where was Grace, that beautiful little girl? Pripyat had only met her once, when they were both young. Perhaps Grace wouldn’t remember the boy at all, she had been so disinterested then, but she would be older now. More beautiful even.

Yet Addison was finished speaking of her sister and turned to their parents. Addison Soul. Not Addison D’Angelo? His adoptive sister took their family name and Pripyat nodded, as if his approval mattered when he knew he had no say in the matter. Addison was a good addition to the family, had been one before he was even a thought in any of their minds, and he did not mind if she wanted to be known as one of them. Why not? Her presence in his life did not cause any unpleasantness, except for the moment just prior when she had broken his heart with the news of Grace’s disappearance. Yet that was life and Pripyat closed his eyes once more, waiting for the grief to pass so he, like the rest of them, could move past whatever wounds they were healing just then. He would grieve over Grace and then forget her, because he still had his life here, even if she wasn’t to be part of it.

His father was the last to speak, and for this speech Pripyat again opened the eyes he had inherited from neither his mother nor his father. Jefferson spoke of Maluki, his other half. Or more accurately his father’s past self. Whoever Maluki had been, he was dead, and though Pripyat knew vaguely the story of him, he often, and usually willfully, forgot it. Jefferson spoke of wolves that Pripyat could never know, except through stories he never asked to be told, and it was only when the man spoke his own name that a shiver ran up the spine of the boy. Pripyat’s siblings were dead, and though it really had nothing to do with him whenever his father called attention to him in a pack meeting his heart began to race. The anxious feeling that perhaps something was expect of him began to climb up in his stomach, his breath more labored though not visibly so and he shifted his weight uncomfortably, not daring to look about to see if any stares flickered over in his direction.

Thankfully the collective eyes of Phoenix Valley were still upon Jefferson and Pripyat forgot that his name had even been spoken. Focusing once more the boy couldn’t fully understand the last words the man spoke. Or he didn’t wish to. To think of Jefferson dead in the ground, or gods help them all, Geneva, terrified him. And even if the reality of such a situation was very possible Pripyat chose to ignore it. He was glad when his mother took control once more, her voice proof that she was still alive and well and he need not consider the unthinkable just then. What did they hope for? He bowed his head, waiting his turn once more, and then raised it. Again his eyes were more on his parents than anyone else, for assembled before the pack it was then rather than any other time that he felt an extension of his parents. "I hope to see many things. Meet many souls. And do the best that I may in this world." It was simple enough.

Login




Remember me Lost Password?