Word Count → 3+
He was a well-behaved boy, and she had that to thank Morrigan for. Docile and generally meek, but so simple that it pained her. Alaine, as with most others, was incapable of seeing the genius that existed within the Winters boy, deep behind that plastic smile and the mask of his father, the RavenKing Gabriel. It plucked at her heart to see such a visible connection to his father - Not enough, apparently, for any other to have made the connection but for Ezekiel and the vicious harlot Talitha. Her children remained safe, in spite of the world that railed against them for all their unnaturalness. She was the manifestation of devotion, after all, and would gladly have died for them both, in spite of the weakness of her love for the hellion Elvira.
There was still a deep ache within her, the kind that scraped ravenously at the insides of her ribs and her brittle bones. But Alaine had a deep strength, one that ran wild and pure into the earth, connected as she was by a returned faith in all that she had once known, and a new purpose in all that she now had. The pagan witch would live on, in spite of the wounds her son had inflicted with his harsh words. She would live on, because Elijah and Elvira required her, because the man she thought she loved remained a vague but constant uncertainty, and because she had much yet to teach his usurper, Badb, the man known as Ezekiel de le Poer. Perhaps one day, the care of her children would fall to him - But his shoulders were heavy with a weight unbeknownst to the Apothecary. He was destined to rule the clan to the east, in the place of his wounded sire. There was a distinct absence of his presence, but Alaine had not sent her raven companion to seek him out, fearing that she would interfere with the political mess of his family.
The boy's maw opened again, and from it flowed a voice high and sweet, and angel's voice. Uncertain, but not timid. The wilted vine of her heart pulsed with love for him, and for that voice - Elijah was an unpolished jewel, and when he shone, he shone for her alone. "Yes, my darling boy, yes," She whispered softly, ignoring the eery repetition to his tone. He had spoken, and after so many months of silence, it was a wonderful thing. "You know who else likes to hear you speak?" The colliedog filled her voice with a childish excitement, hoping to provoke some sense of normalcy from the boy. "Nana! Would you like to come see her with me?"
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