♱ •⋅ 1750 B.C. ⋅• ♱ •⋅ Loren ⋅• ♱
My eyes weighed, my belly looked strange and at times it was like floating in my own body.
I could feel my father’s affection as he tried to talk and distract me, but now even opening his mouth was a complicated task.
"It’s going to be okay" he repeated and at that point I already knew he was saying it more to himself than to me.
"I know" I wanted to answer while smiling, but my mouth did not move, in fact, opening my eyes was already a gigantic effort, so I was content to grunt and hold her hand.
It wasn’t a squeeze, I couldn’t even call it anything but touch. A soft, almost nonexistent touch that my father should be questioning if it was real.
He was sad, wasn’t he? Abbadon should also be, but after I started sleeping more than 17 hours a day, she was no longer there, just Dad.
A version of Dad who stared at me with a red face from crying.
"Do you want to hear a story?" He asked me with a broken voice and I forced myself to smile, forced my face to answer, even if it was difficult.
I didn’t really want to hear one, I didn’t want anything but to close my eyes and fall asleep, and just go to that green field where that blonde woman would take me in, but... Dad was there.
"Right" he smiled, a sharply forced smile, rehearsed "so how about hearing an ancient story? Um? One of when dragons were still flying over the skies and..."
I wanted to smile as he snuggled me in his body, while his fingers caressed my hair and Dad tried so hard to stay there, with his voice without fail, with a certainty that I would not be dead in a few seconds - but that’s not why I wanted to smile.
I wanted to smile, because he spread his wings and those black feathers tickled my face.
I wanted to smile, because it was warm, welcomed.
I wanted to smile, because that was my favorite story and when I realized it, I understood that that was the best way to die.
Yeah. I was mean to Dad, but... it was good to me.
Dad told that story with a distinctly tearful voice while trying to hide his tears, his affection was like that of a child who is afraid to break something precious, but in the end, I fell asleep there. I fell asleep in the arms of my silly, whining father, hearing that story of a dragon he was able to love; that time, there was no green field and not even a cozy hug when my eyes closed. There was darkness and only darkness.
A darkness that swallowed me and lulled me until cold fingers made me wake up.
Icy fingers of a pale blond being.
"Good night, dear," he said with that customary smile, the blue eyes shone with something that seemed too painful to say "you don’t look so good," he muttered touching my cheek, then I looked at Dad.
Asleep.
His eyes closed after obviously crying, arms wrapped around me as if he feared that I would disappear if he hugged me a little lighter.
"He’s fine" muttered touching my hand "your daddy is fine and will be even better when you get better."
I wanted to laugh.
Improve?
Would I get better?
My body said otherwise. My limbs said the opposite.
I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t keep my eyes open that long and my breathing was complicated. My mouth was dry, my mind foggy and all I wished was that my eyes would never open again.
"Loren" he called me in a whisper, a low whisper and with you, like someone who is afraid to awaken others around him.
I stared.
"Don’t give up" he said as his fingers pressed my "can’t give up, I swear... you’ll get better."
I blinked, slow and painful.
Would I go?
"I never break an oath" he said as he kissed his own wrist, to then attach his little finger to mine "it’s a pinky oath, I’ll never lie to you and I say soon... you’ll get better."
Oath.
It was an oath.
A tear fell down my cheek.
A tear I didn’t know was there until it ran so silly and childish.
I was afraid - I realized as I felt my body weaker.
I was afraid of the darkness, the pain, the moments where I would no longer see the blonde woman or the boy in the fox mask. I was afraid when Dad wasn’t with me, when Uncle Asmodeus couldn’t make me laugh while he gives me candy and daffodils.
I was afraid to die, even when I said that’s what I wanted.
"Ju... Jur...ra...?" came out of my mouth in an almost unrecognizable, almost incomprehensible grunt.
"With all the good that is in my heart" he answered without blinking "with all my soul, with the ties of my destiny."
Oath.
It was an oath.
An oath - repeated and repeated, repeated until my conscience fell apart in darkness. An oath - I tried to remember while the air refused to come to my lungs.
An oath.
An oath.
It was an oath between the blond boy and me, a real bond. A bright and constant truth, but when I awoke... there was no longer a shadow of his existence.
There was Dad, you know.
It’s just Daddy.
"You woke up..." he said as a tear came down his cheek and a sad smile took his face "you woke up..." he repeated as if he needed to reaffirm himself.
"Uhum..." I grunted closing my eyes as I fell asleep.
"It’s gonna be okay, Loren," he said squeezing me in his arms "Daddy promises, okay? Just hold on a little longer and everything will be fine."
My arms hurt. My muscles looked like they were going to fall, but still I tried to hold on to her clothes in response.
I knew.
It would be all right.
Would stay.
I had to, because... I didn’t want to die.
⋅• ♱ •⋅