OOC: A return to writing stuff for my characters. Because I should be working on other stuff instead, so I thought I'd do this to keep from doing the writing I should be doing. A little look at Garion's thoughts about a certain someone (and a few hints at hidden things about him) following a certain conversation earlier this week. OOC knowledge. Oh, and mother birds don't actually push their young out of their nests. That's just a myth. But that bit was the genesis for the idea of this story and I like the imagery, so.
Mother Birds
Returning from his trip to Penirgman, Garion entered his quarters at the Mehatoor office, leaving the lights dim as he sank into the nearest chair and relaxed, heaving a soft sigh as he closed his eyes and leaned back. A careless action, he chided himself, not maintaining proper situational awareness when entering an unsecured room, especially considering recent events. He considered checking his room for assassins, but then decided he wasn't in the mood to entertain the paranoia of his past.
Besides, if there's anyone here who intends to kill me, they're obviously very lazy assassins if they haven't done so already. Still, he did open one eye and glance in the dark corners before getting up.
Heading to the liquor cabinet, he took the decanter of port from its shelf, and poured some into a glass. Thinking about his earlier conversation with his daughter, on top of the events of the past few days, he reconsidered and poured a bit more. Glass in hand, he headed back to the chair, sitting down with a heavy sigh.
Rubbing his forehead with his free hand, he sipped the port, thinking about his earlier conversation, about memories of the past. Wondering what had happened to the world to turn it upside-down while he was away. Wishing fervently that he had been there when the people he had loved had needed him most, even if that would have meant his own death.
Jennifer had, during the two years that he had been off on his solitary quest, found both God and a way to fly non-Caldari ships without pain. It had seemed almost too perfect, too good to be true, like he had simply walked into an imaginary world where everything was created just perfect for his whims upon his return. And now, of course, reality had caught up to him. No one had arranged things neatly just for his tastes, his daughter had made her own choices, and now her exploration of his own Amarr faith had led her to the belief that she was meant to suffer, needed to suffer, when flying non-Caldari ships, and that to simply bypass this with an implant would be wrong – that it was hardship she needed to face to grow.
And her thoughts, once he had understood them fully,
did make sense to him, intellectually. But emotionally, all he could think of was the pain he had seen her in on multiple occasions in years past, how piloting even a shuttle from some other race had been hellish for her, how he had wished in vain he could do something to help, something to ease her pain, beyond simply bringing her a bulk shipment of Caldari shuttles when she had been basing in an area low on them.
He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, remembering dark and distant memories, and wishing he had been here for her when she had needed help again. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and drank more port.
But her trouble with this was also intimately tied to her issues with her past, and one could not deal properly with one without also facing the other. If Jennifer felt that she had to go through this hardship, to, as the Book of Missions put it, be stripped to her very foundations in order for her soul to soar . . . he swallowed. He had wanted, oh so very much, to tell her that it was crazy, that of course she shouldn't get rid of the implant that kept her free of pain. Had wanted to with every fiber of his being . . . but in the end, he knew that he could not. For this was not some ideal world made for his desires, but the real world, and children must grow and make their own choices doing so, even if they get hurt in the process, no matter how much their parents may want to keep them safe in a bubble.
He could not deny the truth, in the end. All he could do was tell her that he would always be there to hold her.
Mother birds, he had heard, would push their young out of the nest in order to force them to learn to fly. He laughed bitterly. No such effort was needed here, Jennifer seemed happy enough to leap out on her own, even if he might want to keep her safe in the nest. And he had no doubt that, like a bird, she would spread her wings and fly. Of that he would never doubt. But he wondered, with a shuddering sigh, as he gripped the glass tightly, too tightly, just how those mother birds managed not to cry as they watched their chicks fall to the ground in failure those first few flights.
Damn, he thought as he looked down at the bleeding hand that now held a fistful of crystal shards,
now I'll need a bandage to match hers.
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Topic: Mother Birds (Read 749 times)