the worm in your heart is the apple of my eye

Geneva Stockholm · 08-23-2010, 06:14 PM

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Table by Draggar ♥. A little late ^^; Geneva is in Optime form.

Sometimes on quiet afternoons like this one, many months ago, Geneva would slip away from the mundane but precious commotion of Phoenix Valley to bask in the oasis of her own thoughts. At present, she found it hard to find tranquility in such things. The Whilom found happiness in so many other things. The quiet chaos of raising her adorable, intelligent, wonderful son brought her infinite measures of pride and joy. She could watch him for hours, quietly staying in the distance as she watched each expression flow across his face. Pripyat, her blue eyed boy, was her source of joy and wonder. He was the anchor that tied her here, more than any other creature. And her heart was gladdened because she was beginning to feel something similar, like an echo of that same emotion, in her feelings for Jefferson.

Things were not perfect between the Patriarch and the Whilom, but they were better than they had been in months. They had quietly picked up the pieces of their lives, although it was not just like picking up where they had left off. Things between them had gone from bad to worse, and then she had left him physically, and he had left her emotionally. It had taken time, compromise, and courage for them to return to each other. Their hold on each other was tentative now, but hopeful. She wanted things to work out between them. She truly loved the scarred cyclops, but she had some soul searching to do of her own before she would understand how to truly be with another. The only creature on God's green earth that she loved without a thought was Pripyat, and she was trying to find it in herself to love Jefferson as unconditionally too. And she had to find a way to love herself in the same manner.

Geneva had separated herself from Phoenix Valley for a while, needing clean air and quiet to know her own thoughts. So the Whilom decided that she could meander without much worry in a nearby neutral territory. The sun-dappled leaves of the Sugarwoods created sunlit patterns on the forest floor as arachnids lent her surroundings a sense of startling motion. But that did not bother her. It seemed natural to be here, close enough to home that she could return if and when she was needed, but far enough away that she could truly consider herself alone for the time being. The small-boned wolfess cast her lime green eyes in no direction in particular, her hands clasped loosely behind her, as she thought upon what it meant to love and be loved.

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