sure thang!
No, she said. No. He called her his mother and she said no. Anatoliy's ears flattened instantly, like a child who was reprimanded. It felt that like, certainly, with his own mother not recognizing him. Verusha did not even raise her eyes up to see who had called her his mother. No. That was all. Subconsciously, he held his clenched over his heart as he waited to see if she truly had forgotten the son who had stayed with her the longest in Russian. He was the one who had chosen to stay with her to keep her company, even though he disappeared away from her. It was entirely an accident; he had not been running away from her. But why did she not remember him at a glance? He had not changed that much in so much time, had he? He was the same color, same everything. The scars on his face were new, given by a Courtier, though he was still the same underneath. Golden eyes and brown coloration should have been a dead give away to the mother that her son stood before her with pained eyes.
Liliya interceded and directed the woman's eyes to Anatoliy. His sister seemed a little bit too harsh with their mother, who was clearly unwell for some reason or another. He would ask her what had happened later. For now, he was too nervous to even think more than that plan. Verusha looked at him, though her eyes did not seem to truly see as they ought to have. It took her a long time, simply staring at him, or so it felt like to him. His breath had caught as his mother slowly began to recognize her second son.
The confusion changed and was replaced by a much more familiar and much more welcome emotion. Verusha yelped out his name and took his face into his hands. He bent over easily, making it easier for their shorter mother to reach him at his towering height. His smile was broad and there were unshed tears in his eyes as he watched his mother's eyes fill with recognition and affection. She pulled him into a hug, despite being so much shorter than her pillar of a son. Anatoliy wrapped his arms around his small mother, keeping her close to his heart as he fought the tears in his eyes. "Mama..," he muttered softly as she pulled away from her son.
Verusha swiped at his nose, and the big Russo found he could not avoid the motion. She hit his nose, though he had moved enough to make it a light blow. Instantly, a hand went up to the spot his mother hit, as though he truly had been a bad pup in need of a reprimanding. "Mozher, I.. it..," he fumbled as the woman suddenly changed her entire mood again as she rubbed at his nose gently where she had hit it. Anatoliy found the bag of mushrooms exchanged from Liliya's hands and into his and he just stared at it dumbly. His mother seemed to think he was here to stay, which he knew he was not. Liliya knew he was not here to stay. He had a mate to go home to, he could hardly stay here with his mother and catch up. He could, for a little while, of course.
"Mozher, I can't stay for very long." Anatoliy's voice was dejected, though he knew there was no place for him here. Liliya should not have been here either, and he wondered why she chose to be here of all places. "I have somevone vaiting for me at home," he said subtly, wondering if whatever was afflicting his mother would prevent her from truly understanding him. His golden gaze lifted up to Liliya, who had offered fishing. He merely nodded, brows furrowing. Liliya ran to get the supplies from some storage area, and Anatoliy found himself still holding the bag of mushrooms. "Mozher, I can try to visit."
Verusha looked at her son with a reprimanding look, as though he was lying to her. "Vhat do you mean? This is our home now. You don't need to be goingk anywhere." She did not seem to understand that he had other commitments now, and he was unsure of how to proceed. Dejected, he walked to his sister, who was gathering the things. "I can't stay here," he told his sister, who surely would understand his situation much better than their mother. What was wrong with her? "Fishing and a meal, yes, but I have Anann at home," he added, hands still clinging to the bag, as though it was a comfort to him in this awkward situation.
.isa-txt {font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height:17px; letter-spacing:.5px; word-spacing:1px; margin:0px 25px auto; padding:0px 75px 0px 75px; margin:5px auto; text-align:justify;}
.isa-txt .ooc {font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto; width:500px;}
.isa-txt p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding: 10px 0px 0px 0px;}
.isa-txt b {letter-spacing:1px; letter-spacing:-.05em;text-shadow:#fff 0px 0px 1px;font-family:verdana, garamond, serif; font-size:12px;}
.isa-txt .line {width:450px; border-bottom:1px dashed #000; margin:0 auto;}
</style>
[/html]