07-29-2014, 01:31 PM
Lucas looked up when he heard the door chime over the buzz of the gun. The winter sun was a bit brighter today and silhouetted the person who'd come, cloaking them in shadow. It didn't matter. He had a feeling she'd be in today.
A part of him was excited to see her. They'd shared a connection last night and he'd been thrilled to be let inside. But there was also a thread of fear. This woman had needs that he'd never encountered before. She spoke of pain and wanting it, being drawn to it. She could give emotion and experience at a touch. In the bright light of day, it was a heady experience- terrifying even.
She moved out of the direct light and her features resolved into dark eyes. They seemed to glow- probably just a trick of the light- but for a moment, he could see her again as she had been last night. So much had come to those eyes- tears, laughter, loneliness, and most of all fear. She had never shared herself like that. He knew that. They'd lain together, fully clothed, and it was the most intimate moment he'd ever had, this woman who placed herself in his hands.
He breathed. The thread of fear was still there. But there was also determination. Valentin faced challenges with him. He'd have to had those fears himself, the realization that he was making himself partially responsible for this damaged and hurt boy. But he cared enough to put himself at risk. To his secret shame, Lucas quashed his own dark thoughts from those first few nights. Valentin never knew how close he came to dying in those early days, when the hunger was so strong and the desperation so intense. Or maybe he had. Maybe he'd slept in his rooms in fear, wondering at his foolish risk, his willingness to help someone life him.
Strange. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, he found himself thinking of Valentin in a whole new light, understanding now what a sacrifice and effort it had been. His appreciate for the man doubled. If he could do it, so will I. He would too. He was not going to accept Valentin's gift without passing it on in some measure. He would not respect himself if he ran from Aria because he was scared or it was hard.
Reassured, he smiled at Aria, his drawing hand stopped while his other wiped gently at Nika's shoulder. Her shoulder was exposed so he could work, the anchor already outlined in black and shaded, lilies wreathed delicately cream colored with hint of pink. This was the kind of piece he liked doing. Nika's father had been her only parent. An old sailor, he'd raised Nika after her mother died. Nika said that every week he took a lily to her mother's grave. He made sure that Nika knew how much her mother had loved her and was proud of her. For 15 years, this was the story Nika believed. And then she learned that her mother had abandoned them both not long after giving birth. She had died when Nika was 2, too soon for her to remember.
Nika had cried, imagining her father living with that rejection, with the knowledge that he had a daughter to love and care for, a daughter that would believe her mother hadn't wanted her with all that implied. Pavel refused to do that to her. He found where her mother was buried and gave Nika the fiction that got her through her youth.
When Nika learned the truth, she had been angry and hurt- furious that her father had lied to her, had let her believe in and love a woman who'd abandoned them.
Until one day, somehow, realization dawned on her. Her father had been her mother too, had been her world, her anchor. He'd loved her enough to endure his private pain, bearing that cross on himself. In that day, Nika truly understood the depth of her father's love. And this was her way of immortalizing it in her body, the truth of a father- her father's- love. Pavel would always be with her.
It had been a beautiful account and Lucas had cried as she tried to explain what she was trying to do, what this meant to her. Together they had worked to come up with images that would encapsulate Pavel for her. Lucas felt so touched at being let in, at being allowed, just for a moment, to see the depth of love a father could have for his child. He wept, for what he'd been denied, for what Valentin had ended up for him, and for the young girl who lived surrounded by such pure love.
These pieces were always like this. And know, he was forever emblazoning it in her flesh. It hurt, they always did, but the pain was like child-birth, he imagined. A tearing and great pain, but with such emotional release too.
He thought of Aria and what he'd made for her. He hoped she liked it. He saw her put it on the table. "Hi Aria,"
through a big smile. He patted Nika's shoulder. "Almost done here with Nika."
To Nika he said gently, turning her face softly, the sheen of tears in her eyes. "Are you alright sweety? I'm almost done. Your dad will be proud."
He meant it to and he tried to make her see that in his eyes and the way he smiled.
He looked up and could see Aria wandering around, looking at the different pieces. He wondered what she was feeling. For the first time it occurred to him that as a man, he wouldn't have to guess. She could just show him if she wanted to. He laughed.
This was going to be an interesting ride.
A part of him was excited to see her. They'd shared a connection last night and he'd been thrilled to be let inside. But there was also a thread of fear. This woman had needs that he'd never encountered before. She spoke of pain and wanting it, being drawn to it. She could give emotion and experience at a touch. In the bright light of day, it was a heady experience- terrifying even.
She moved out of the direct light and her features resolved into dark eyes. They seemed to glow- probably just a trick of the light- but for a moment, he could see her again as she had been last night. So much had come to those eyes- tears, laughter, loneliness, and most of all fear. She had never shared herself like that. He knew that. They'd lain together, fully clothed, and it was the most intimate moment he'd ever had, this woman who placed herself in his hands.
He breathed. The thread of fear was still there. But there was also determination. Valentin faced challenges with him. He'd have to had those fears himself, the realization that he was making himself partially responsible for this damaged and hurt boy. But he cared enough to put himself at risk. To his secret shame, Lucas quashed his own dark thoughts from those first few nights. Valentin never knew how close he came to dying in those early days, when the hunger was so strong and the desperation so intense. Or maybe he had. Maybe he'd slept in his rooms in fear, wondering at his foolish risk, his willingness to help someone life him.
Strange. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, he found himself thinking of Valentin in a whole new light, understanding now what a sacrifice and effort it had been. His appreciate for the man doubled. If he could do it, so will I. He would too. He was not going to accept Valentin's gift without passing it on in some measure. He would not respect himself if he ran from Aria because he was scared or it was hard.
Reassured, he smiled at Aria, his drawing hand stopped while his other wiped gently at Nika's shoulder. Her shoulder was exposed so he could work, the anchor already outlined in black and shaded, lilies wreathed delicately cream colored with hint of pink. This was the kind of piece he liked doing. Nika's father had been her only parent. An old sailor, he'd raised Nika after her mother died. Nika said that every week he took a lily to her mother's grave. He made sure that Nika knew how much her mother had loved her and was proud of her. For 15 years, this was the story Nika believed. And then she learned that her mother had abandoned them both not long after giving birth. She had died when Nika was 2, too soon for her to remember.
Nika had cried, imagining her father living with that rejection, with the knowledge that he had a daughter to love and care for, a daughter that would believe her mother hadn't wanted her with all that implied. Pavel refused to do that to her. He found where her mother was buried and gave Nika the fiction that got her through her youth.
When Nika learned the truth, she had been angry and hurt- furious that her father had lied to her, had let her believe in and love a woman who'd abandoned them.
Until one day, somehow, realization dawned on her. Her father had been her mother too, had been her world, her anchor. He'd loved her enough to endure his private pain, bearing that cross on himself. In that day, Nika truly understood the depth of her father's love. And this was her way of immortalizing it in her body, the truth of a father- her father's- love. Pavel would always be with her.
It had been a beautiful account and Lucas had cried as she tried to explain what she was trying to do, what this meant to her. Together they had worked to come up with images that would encapsulate Pavel for her. Lucas felt so touched at being let in, at being allowed, just for a moment, to see the depth of love a father could have for his child. He wept, for what he'd been denied, for what Valentin had ended up for him, and for the young girl who lived surrounded by such pure love.
These pieces were always like this. And know, he was forever emblazoning it in her flesh. It hurt, they always did, but the pain was like child-birth, he imagined. A tearing and great pain, but with such emotional release too.
He thought of Aria and what he'd made for her. He hoped she liked it. He saw her put it on the table. "Hi Aria,"
through a big smile. He patted Nika's shoulder. "Almost done here with Nika."
To Nika he said gently, turning her face softly, the sheen of tears in her eyes. "Are you alright sweety? I'm almost done. Your dad will be proud."
He meant it to and he tried to make her see that in his eyes and the way he smiled.
He looked up and could see Aria wandering around, looking at the different pieces. He wondered what she was feeling. For the first time it occurred to him that as a man, he wouldn't have to guess. She could just show him if she wanted to. He laughed.
This was going to be an interesting ride.