It matters not how old we are

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It matters not how old we are Empty It matters not how old we are

Post  Soraya on Mon Jun 10, 2013 4:57 pm

((OOC: Last Sor/Kid scene I had in mind. This was ruminated upon for awhile, but last night's RP sort of gave me a context to work from, so there you go... I admit it feels a little short, but it's what I've got. I may come back to it later and rework it. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy. Smile))

The heat hadn’t lifted, and the electricity hadn’t returned yet. A recent wave of tornadoes had knocked out the power grid, which had taken away their air conditioning and luxuries. The heaviness and humidity in the air remained, with the occasional distant clap of thunder and restless wind. And the heat. It was miserable, particularly inside this house.

Soraya, along with the rest of the family, had been outside earlier for relief, though the group had retreated inside with the promise of dawn nearing. Zack and Brianna were both tucked in, Josh was probably in the garage, or perhaps the library with Tommen, and she knew not what the other vampires were doing. Maybe simply trying to be as comfortable as they could inside this heat-trap; it wasn’t as if they could open windows, for fear that the sun would come in with the air currents.

Now, Soraya stood in the darkened kitchen, staring off into the shapes the shadows made, waiting.

The redhead wasn’t so concerned with the heat, nor with the stickiness of her clothing to her body and of the way her curls were both plastered to her face as well as even wilder than usual. She was concerned about the fact that Minhea and Michael had, despite her warnings, gone off to hang glide.

In this kind of weather.

Another clap of thunder made her tense, and her hand ached as she clutched her bottle of water too tightly. Each time she heard the sound, it felt like a toll announcing the possible death of her son.

She was used to Michael’s antics, of his taking unnecessary risks. For crying out loud, the boy had met first death after falling out of a tree both she and Vlad had warned him wasn't strong enough to support his weight and breaking his neck. Over the years, she had even learned to keep her objections to herself, for the most part. But when it was this reckless, when death for pleasure meant losing the possibility of return… Lightning set fire, and fire destroyed vampires.

She had put her foot down, made her objections more than a little clear.

And still, the two fools had gone out into the storm for the purpose of just a little fun. Though she had a pretty good idea of who might have instigated their escape.

Hang gliding.

Soraya snorted derisively.

“You’re still up?” Michael’s voice came, surprised, from the shadow.

The redhead was too angry to start at his sudden appearance.

“You are home,” Soraya stated, her tone flat and dangerous.

Michael’s response seemed hesitant. “Well, yeah… dawn’s not so far away, so we thought maybe we should…”

The darkness would have been no hindrance for Michael – there was no way he would miss the venomous look his mother gave him.

“You should not have gone at all. Was that not what we had agreed upon?”

He generally didn’t care for fighting with his mother, though this time Michael answered, “I never agreed to anything. Besides, nothing bad happened.”

“Not this time, no,” Soraya agreed, “Thank the gods.” And perhaps it truly was simply that the gods had smiled upon them, maybe even because of their association with Naitachel. “Though you do realize that the very worst could have occurred. I keep quiet on most of your stupid decisions, Michael, but this time… this… ” She came around the counter to stand in front of him, and though he was taller than she was, he seemed to shrink back at her approach. “Do you understand what could have happened to you?”

Her voice sounded shrill, even to her own ears.

It was difficult for Michael not to step back, though he did his best to stand his ground, even when faced with the fury his mother exuded. “But it didn’t. I’m not some helpless kid, Mom! Stop treating me like one!”

Soraya’s eyes narrowed at that. “I will stop treating you like a child when you stop behaving like one.”

A frustrated growl escaped the vampire. “Seriously? I’m hundreds of years old, in case you forget.”

“Do not think to lecture me on your age, boy,” the redhead retorted. “I remember the day you were born as clearly as it was yesterday. I remember Naitachel’s frightened voice as I bore down to give birth to you in those woods.” She glared at him as if daring him to respond, though at least this time Michael had enough sense to keep quiet.

That seemed to appease Soraya, at least slightly, and her tone softened. “It makes no difference how old you are, Michael.” Soraya took his face into her hands gently but firmly. “You will always be my son. And I will always be the woman who carried you inside of her for nine months, who felt your kicks and your tumbles. I will always be the woman who birthed you, nursed you and changed your soiled diapers. The woman who kissed your scraped knees better and chased away the monsters under the bed at night. The woman who sat by your deathbed in mourning, awaiting your return. And it matters not how long you live. I will love you as fiercely on the day of your final death as on the day I realized you were growing inside of me.” She traced his eyebrows, then his nose lovingly with her thumb, blinking back tears, then rested her forehead against his cheek. She concluded, with a voice full of emotion, “I beg you, my child… take care with this life of yours. I know you think it invincible, but it is not… and it is immeasurably precious. To lose it, to lose you… Michael I could not bear it.”

Dumbstruck, Michael simply stared, then blinked. This was a display of emotion he hadn’t expected, and there was no denying its efficacy as he felt a sudden surge of guilt.

“I do not approve of all the risks you take, and you know that, but you also know that I do my best to hold my tongue,” Soraya sighed. “Unless the risk seems too great to bear. That lightning, if it had struck you or your uncle… There would be no return for you, either of you. Do you understand how frightened I was, sitting in the darkness, listening to the thunder and expecting the worse? Do you understand why I asked you not to do this in the first place?”

She lifted his eyes to his, pleadingly.

Michael sighed, ashamed. “Sorry,” he managed. “I guess… I dunno, I guess I wasn’t thinking.” Had he really just admitted that out loud?

A half-smile graced Soraya’s features. “I know,” she answered, anger and energy drained, her own body slumping.

“Can we make a deal?” she requested finally stepping back to sit on a nearby stool.

The vampire shrugged and raised an eyebrow questioningly, spurring his mother on.

“I will refrain from handing out edicts, and I will refrain from making my malcontent known… on most things,” she said. “You are right, you are not a child, and I may sometimes act as if I forget that.” She paused, peered at Michael’s form through the darkness, before continuing, “But in return I need you to take the time to stop and think about your actions. And if they seem risky in a way that even you could not survive in any way, then Sweetling, please, please do not take the chance.”

Michael mulled the offer over and nodded slowly, though Soraya added, “Though I make no promises about pointing out what those risks may be. And if I speak out, generally I may be indicating that it would be a… very good idea to reconsider?” She smiled at him lopsidedly at the very strong implication that any word from his mother would be well-advised to be followed on his part.

Still, the guilt she’d made him feel over his actions combined with the exhaustion he could see in her made it difficult for him to keep arguing or refuse. It wasn’t that he tried to worry his mother, after all, he simply liked to have his fun. Though he supposed she wasn’t forbidding that, either.

“Okay, all right,” Michael sighed.

No sooner were the words out that the vampire felt himself pulled into a tight hug, much like one of the ones he used to seek out for comfort.

He supposed in a way, she was right. He would always be her little boy.

He let out a chuckle and, now bigger than she was, wrapped her up in his arms to return the hug, though he mumbled in her ear, “You’re such a pain in the ass.”

Soraya laughed and finally released him. “Your father seems to think so,” she agreed, though she glanced around. “Where is your uncle?” she then asked.

Uh oh.

Michael silently apologized to Minhea, feeling much the traitor as he informed her, “Outside, I think.”

Soraya’s eyebrow rose. “Good. See yourself to bed, would you? I would like to have a word with him, as well.”

Before Michael could protest, Soraya had left, clearly on a mission to find Min.

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