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writing_shadows((A Sheena piece musing on family. It's cross-posted to my character LJ so apologies if you get it twice. Comments welcome as always.))
The house as deathly quiet, she was the only one home and it was getting late, late enough for the mother in her to be worried. It took all of her willpower not to just use her gifts to track Sam and find out where he was, but then she wasn’t quite sure that she wanted to get an idea of what he might be doing right now, not when it involved her teenage daughter anyway.
She sighed and twitched at the curtains again, peering out down the road to see if she could see Siobhan returning yet, but there was no sign. It was strange in a way to be so protective of her. When she was Siobhan’s age she had lost both of her parents and had practically been raising Feisal and Isla with little aid since her older brother had been off being a soldier, well other than Xenophon and that… well that was not something she really wanted to think about right now. Especially not right now.
It’s not even like she could claim that Siobhan hadn’t been through what she had, in many ways, she’d been through worse. She’d seen her father and brothers torn apart in front of her eyes by werewolves when she was barely into double figures and she remembered that in total clarity. And still Sheena found it hard not to want to protect her from everything, even something good in her life like Sam.
Movement, a distant sound of laughter. They were coming back then; her eyesight could just make them out walking along the far end of the street hand in hand. It was good to hear Siobhan laugh, to see her smile. So many years of watching her daughter being grim and withdrawn and he had brought her out again, something that her mother had been completely unable to accomplish.
An odd pain thumped in her chest, her breath catching as tears briefly seemed to gather in her eyes. He had fixed her or at least helped repair the damage the Pure had done. She needed him and Sheena wasn’t sure she had really needed her mother in a long time. Not like she’d ever been that great a one to begin with really. It’s hard to be a single parent and worse to be one when you’re also an Uratha with duties to pack and to the Mother that cannot be shirked.
They were getting closer now; Sheena backed off and headed upstairs to give them some privacy, to let her daughter not feel like she was trying to rule her life. The door opened a short time later and there were the sounds of talking and some more laughing below. Happy sounds, sounds long missed from this house.
She sat alone on her double bed, a bed long absent of any company. Ruraidh was long dead, gone in an explosion of claws and rage by enemies she had never found for reasons she could never fathom. The wolf-blood she had shared some passion with was also gone, she had closed him off from her life out of fear of losing everything else that wasn’t him and sometimes she even regretted that decision as well, wondered if Ruraidh might have still been alive somewhere had she left him.
Something broke inside her then and she curled up on the bed and cried quietly into the duvet so that no one would hear. She felt old and tired, a million times older than her 36 years. She had been fighting for too long and watched too many others die. Sometimes she wasn’t even sure if anyone would miss her when she was gone. Sure, they’d tell stories of her deeds, but most of those who had truly known her, had truly loved her were gone ahead of her and when they spoke of her when she was dead it would be the warrior who was remembered and not the woman. Siobhan would probably cry for her, but she would get on and she would live. She’d be in safe hands with Sam, safer perhaps than she was with her.
There was just one more thing left for her to do now and then maybe she could finally rest. Maybe then she would see her sons again, her babies and all the others who had gone before her. Besides, she’d told Hama to keep a seat for her in Valhalla and it would be rude to keep the bastard waiting.
The house as deathly quiet, she was the only one home and it was getting late, late enough for the mother in her to be worried. It took all of her willpower not to just use her gifts to track Sam and find out where he was, but then she wasn’t quite sure that she wanted to get an idea of what he might be doing right now, not when it involved her teenage daughter anyway.
She sighed and twitched at the curtains again, peering out down the road to see if she could see Siobhan returning yet, but there was no sign. It was strange in a way to be so protective of her. When she was Siobhan’s age she had lost both of her parents and had practically been raising Feisal and Isla with little aid since her older brother had been off being a soldier, well other than Xenophon and that… well that was not something she really wanted to think about right now. Especially not right now.
It’s not even like she could claim that Siobhan hadn’t been through what she had, in many ways, she’d been through worse. She’d seen her father and brothers torn apart in front of her eyes by werewolves when she was barely into double figures and she remembered that in total clarity. And still Sheena found it hard not to want to protect her from everything, even something good in her life like Sam.
Movement, a distant sound of laughter. They were coming back then; her eyesight could just make them out walking along the far end of the street hand in hand. It was good to hear Siobhan laugh, to see her smile. So many years of watching her daughter being grim and withdrawn and he had brought her out again, something that her mother had been completely unable to accomplish.
An odd pain thumped in her chest, her breath catching as tears briefly seemed to gather in her eyes. He had fixed her or at least helped repair the damage the Pure had done. She needed him and Sheena wasn’t sure she had really needed her mother in a long time. Not like she’d ever been that great a one to begin with really. It’s hard to be a single parent and worse to be one when you’re also an Uratha with duties to pack and to the Mother that cannot be shirked.
They were getting closer now; Sheena backed off and headed upstairs to give them some privacy, to let her daughter not feel like she was trying to rule her life. The door opened a short time later and there were the sounds of talking and some more laughing below. Happy sounds, sounds long missed from this house.
She sat alone on her double bed, a bed long absent of any company. Ruraidh was long dead, gone in an explosion of claws and rage by enemies she had never found for reasons she could never fathom. The wolf-blood she had shared some passion with was also gone, she had closed him off from her life out of fear of losing everything else that wasn’t him and sometimes she even regretted that decision as well, wondered if Ruraidh might have still been alive somewhere had she left him.
Something broke inside her then and she curled up on the bed and cried quietly into the duvet so that no one would hear. She felt old and tired, a million times older than her 36 years. She had been fighting for too long and watched too many others die. Sometimes she wasn’t even sure if anyone would miss her when she was gone. Sure, they’d tell stories of her deeds, but most of those who had truly known her, had truly loved her were gone ahead of her and when they spoke of her when she was dead it would be the warrior who was remembered and not the woman. Siobhan would probably cry for her, but she would get on and she would live. She’d be in safe hands with Sam, safer perhaps than she was with her.
There was just one more thing left for her to do now and then maybe she could finally rest. Maybe then she would see her sons again, her babies and all the others who had gone before her. Besides, she’d told Hama to keep a seat for her in Valhalla and it would be rude to keep the bastard waiting.
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