aion
to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love
In the morning’s half-light he could see their daughter, tucked up against a stuffed lion that was nearly as big as she was. Her white head was folded overtop her knees, the gold of her hooves muted in the darkness. The rest of her was a tangle of black and white, gangly and angular and alien.
She sighed and turned her head to the other side, so that she was facing him. There was a smile on her sleeping face, so small and innocent that he found himself smiling back without realizing it.
He knew he should be in bed still, catching up on all the sleep he had missed and all the sleep he was undoubtedly going to miss in the months to come - but it was the first morning she had slept through. Aion did not know if it was habit that had woken him up or the thin light coming in through the open window, but neither was he upset about it.
There had been a time when he had refused to believe he could be so happy with so little sleep, waking up at all hours of the day to calm a crying baby - now, at least, he knew better.
He watched her for a minute as the room continued to brighten, watching as the light played through the downy fuzz that crowned her head. When the sun finally broke on the horizon, it sent a ray of sunlight slanting into the crib. She stirred at the sudden warmth, and he went quickly to the window to shutter it - but Maret only sighed and smiled wider, then rolled until more of her lay in the sunlight. She did not wake, but seemed all the more content.
Aion paused beside the window, watching her for a minute longer to be sure she was settled. Only then did he turn and greet the sun as it lifted itself from the distant mountains, letting it light his own face now. The sky was still a blaze of colors, but the darkness overhead had faded. When he tilted his head back there were no stars to wink down at him, only the beginnings of a cloud drifting across an endlessly blue sky. It made his wings itch, made him want to feel the cool air gliding across his feathers - but he could hear footsteps from behind him now, and as much as he loved the morning air, he loved Eros more.
“She likes the sun,” he said softly, looking back at their daughter, and the smile on his face was as clear as the sunlight in his voice.
@eros "speaks"
