11-09-2018, 09:45 PM
(This post was last modified: 11-10-2018, 12:58 AM by Ivan Sarkozy.)
He was silent for a moment, her words- her tone- swirling through his mind. Careful. Careful. Her eyes, her lips, the feel of little Zara against him, her soft tiny hand in his, all sparks on the kindling of his heart. And smoke was already rising.
And something else too. He was sitting. But he was also standing. He felt strong. Firm. The light of the power was like the soothing sun on a summer day, warm against his back. He had a family. And now he had another family.
Yeah. The fire grew and a slight smile curved his lips. He didn't mind the pain on his cuts in the slightest. The room was still, both of them looking at each other. He could be part of this. It was in reach.
It was as though, in his stillness, he was gathering energy, pulling energy from everything around him, feeling it come into him, swirling, as if compressing. Not just the air, not just the couch, not even just the power. He felt energy from Danya going into him, from Zara, filling him up, flowing into those gashes and missing chunks and tears in his heart.
Brandon no longer mattered. Or rather, his betrayal didn't matter. He had been a fool to worship a man. And while he would always love Zoya, Zara's laughter now overlaid hers. It didn't erase it. It never could. Nor did he want it to.
But he felt hope again.
Hope. It had been gone for so long. He couldn't even remember when he'd lost it. A life without hope is a living death.
He wasn't a fool. Nothing really had changed.
And yet....the universe had changed.
He smiled at Danya, suddenly remembering something she had read to him once, long ago. ""Hope springs eternal in every human breast" Her response warmed him.
Life was out there. Life was here. His life.
And he meant to get it.
Love filled his eyes. "Thank you."
Zara was put to bed, with him giving her a tender kiss on her forehead. And then good-byes were said- which took a bit longer cuz of all the hugs and kisses. Not that he minded despite the very real pain. There was nothing like human connection to give you a sense of belonging.
And even though it felt like he was tearing himself in half, Ivan was striding down the street once more. Ivan Sarkozy. Himself.
He needed help. Most of all he needed to learn. Messages went out on his wallet even as the sun beat warmly against his back.
Hope.
Bruised. Bloody. Battered. But not beaten. Not yet.
And something else too. He was sitting. But he was also standing. He felt strong. Firm. The light of the power was like the soothing sun on a summer day, warm against his back. He had a family. And now he had another family.
Yeah. The fire grew and a slight smile curved his lips. He didn't mind the pain on his cuts in the slightest. The room was still, both of them looking at each other. He could be part of this. It was in reach.
It was as though, in his stillness, he was gathering energy, pulling energy from everything around him, feeling it come into him, swirling, as if compressing. Not just the air, not just the couch, not even just the power. He felt energy from Danya going into him, from Zara, filling him up, flowing into those gashes and missing chunks and tears in his heart.
Brandon no longer mattered. Or rather, his betrayal didn't matter. He had been a fool to worship a man. And while he would always love Zoya, Zara's laughter now overlaid hers. It didn't erase it. It never could. Nor did he want it to.
But he felt hope again.
Hope. It had been gone for so long. He couldn't even remember when he'd lost it. A life without hope is a living death.
He wasn't a fool. Nothing really had changed.
And yet....the universe had changed.
He smiled at Danya, suddenly remembering something she had read to him once, long ago. ""Hope springs eternal in every human breast" Her response warmed him.
Life was out there. Life was here. His life.
And he meant to get it.
Love filled his eyes. "Thank you."
Zara was put to bed, with him giving her a tender kiss on her forehead. And then good-byes were said- which took a bit longer cuz of all the hugs and kisses. Not that he minded despite the very real pain. There was nothing like human connection to give you a sense of belonging.
And even though it felt like he was tearing himself in half, Ivan was striding down the street once more. Ivan Sarkozy. Himself.
He needed help. Most of all he needed to learn. Messages went out on his wallet even as the sun beat warmly against his back.
Hope.
Bruised. Bloody. Battered. But not beaten. Not yet.