02-26-2011, 05:29 PM
[html]Prip apparently like to avoid uncomfortable topics.
Pripyat’s ears perked at the man’s words, his head tilted in slight confusion, his heart soon taking on the rhythm of the creaking rocking chair. Mirette had brothers, which meant he too had brothers he didn’t know. The knowledge was enough to drive him up a wall, but he suppressed the emotions, mirroring his father’s expressionless face. His father had hurt him, and this was confusing, upsetting and unexpected. The world seemed to spin beneath Pripyat’s four feet, but when he looked down to check it seemed everything was still stationary. Yet his heart hammered and the dizzy feeling still swelled within him. The next words comforted him, as much as they could, but they could not negate his bewilderment.
Jefferson wouldn’t let anything happen to Mother or himself. Of course he wouldn’t. The boy, for as little as he really knew about his father’s past or inner most feelings, believed whole heartedly in the man’s love for his family. His current family. Geneva and himself. The patriarch wouldn’t let anything happen to Pripyat or Mother, the boy knew this, and yet if that could be true how then could Jefferson have hurt his other children? Wouldn’t the love that bonded him to Prip and Geneva also in some way or another keep him from committing such acts against his other children? But it hadn’t and that was terrifying and perplexing and Pripyat was speechless. He didn’t want to know anymore, and instead of excusing himself, he simply opted for the easier route and once more abruptly changed the topic, his voice static as if the past conversation hadn’t happened at all. "Dad, I can’t shift."
Pripyat’s ears perked at the man’s words, his head tilted in slight confusion, his heart soon taking on the rhythm of the creaking rocking chair. Mirette had brothers, which meant he too had brothers he didn’t know. The knowledge was enough to drive him up a wall, but he suppressed the emotions, mirroring his father’s expressionless face. His father had hurt him, and this was confusing, upsetting and unexpected. The world seemed to spin beneath Pripyat’s four feet, but when he looked down to check it seemed everything was still stationary. Yet his heart hammered and the dizzy feeling still swelled within him. The next words comforted him, as much as they could, but they could not negate his bewilderment.
Jefferson wouldn’t let anything happen to Mother or himself. Of course he wouldn’t. The boy, for as little as he really knew about his father’s past or inner most feelings, believed whole heartedly in the man’s love for his family. His current family. Geneva and himself. The patriarch wouldn’t let anything happen to Pripyat or Mother, the boy knew this, and yet if that could be true how then could Jefferson have hurt his other children? Wouldn’t the love that bonded him to Prip and Geneva also in some way or another keep him from committing such acts against his other children? But it hadn’t and that was terrifying and perplexing and Pripyat was speechless. He didn’t want to know anymore, and instead of excusing himself, he simply opted for the easier route and once more abruptly changed the topic, his voice static as if the past conversation hadn’t happened at all. "Dad, I can’t shift."