Pure Youth, Wise Years {Apollo & Salem // Arrows}
Feb 4, 2018 22:16:14 GMT -5
Post by Cameo {RIP Charlie} on Feb 4, 2018 22:16:14 GMT -5
Apollo Salon
One after another, after another, and another, tiny exteriors of saddened expressions drag their footsteps into the temporary walls of my new traitorous predicament. Some shrunken shoulders arrive with a pair or two, clenching hands in desperation of support - others chime into the visit a lone soul, with a tall stance and invisible tears to mirror my own. But all the same they each seem to seek the same assurance from the one who’s actually been destined to slaughter, ignoring the horrific forthcoming that will arise for me - yet all too aware of it at a parallel time. The farewells are necessities, kisses upon cheeks clasp seals. And though I would dare not to reject any from such a ritual, each goodbye welcome burdens another weight upon these already frail shoulders of mine.
Yet another uncountable sigh curls across the air in departure from my lips, as I calculate how many more clutch-full partings I’ll have to endure. The role coils through my thoughts, with solely one to miss attendance. Again a palm washes down my emotionless face with internal gratitude for the final one to await my last presence. He would enforce the ending visit, in insurance that his keen words would tattoo to my closing thoughts - rather then another’s certain weep. And sure enough it’s his occupancy to accompany me in the moments to come.
Such youth frames his features of actual wisdom, painting an exterior none would predict to pertain such maturity. Chubby cheeks delves him to an age even below his own, while the words they deliver are years beyond himself. “Hey little Man.” A grin his simple existence can ignite folds across my lips, with my own personal nickname for him that fits him so. “Have any rituals that'll promise my survival in what’s to come?” Gentle sarcasm flutters across my tongue, as I pull him into a mandatory embrace. “Just kidding.” Of course another sigh spills, before I rest my chin upon the top of his head.
“I need you to help Cal around the house for me… use those wise words of yours if anyone tries to get into a fight. Make sure Cal doesn’t burn any meals… or the house. How’s the concoction for Pariah coming along…” A halt breaks the spew of my words, and I stare upon the Youngster who should pertain no such responsibilities. “I’m sorry… You don’t deserve these burdens. Just help out in any way you can for me? And don’t forget to be a kid and stuff sometimes though.” Again a smile is half-what forced across my own cheeks. The stress of my family’s wellbeing is simply too much to bear - while that stress should not be passed to another either.
