The family that Venemousimpulse came from was strange in it's own way. He'd been head of the Opheles family for so long, and on his own, that he no longer knew how his children felt about the family. There hadn't been all that much of one to begin with, with their other parents dying and his own running from his problems in the past. The storm that had torn apart the family physically had torn them apart emotionally and mentally. Losing them had been a major blow to Aesior, following the death of Aristotle, the cruel death that he'd been forced to watch, to protect his children from. He still woke up some nights screaming for Aristotle, for the Gods to stop, to release him.

Things had gone haywire from the start. He'd been on his own for long, too long in his opinion that after the failure of finding home in The Golden Eye, that when the option of Tanglewood had shown itself, he had taken the chance to make his new home there. Tanglewood was his home now, and he had settled right in, quickly, and securely. He hadn't been ready for the leadership thrust onto him, but he was the Luminary now and dedicated himself to the group. It abided some of the horrible guilt he was soaked in, the shame of losing his family and not being able to find his children again. Venemous' arrival to Tanglewood had relieved some of that pain, though he didn't know what his daughter had done in the time inbetween. What could have been done? What could he have done?

Eyes fell on his daughter's silhouette, the tom's paws leading him in her direction. Did she hate him and his weakness for not being able to stop her other father's execution? He had so many questions but he just wanted to embrace her and hold his daughter close again. How he wanted her to be a kit again, safe at his side, when the world wasn't so terrifying. When their family was united and together. When he was a different man.

Silently, he came up beside Venemousimpulse and sat down at her side, tail resting near hers. Sometimes he needed a little downtime.

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[align=center]"speech" | thoughts / writing

"I'm sorry, my daughter. My dearest daughter. I've missed you more than this wretched throat would let me say." He wrote on a piece of paper pulled from the satchel he wore. Pressing in closer, his gaze trembling, shaking. He felt the fool for the emotions he showed, for the pain that danced in his chest. How could he be a proper parent? How?

He'd lost that chance ages ago. When his husband had been executed before him, before their children, children he had tried to shield from the ugly sight. Children he'd had to explain to that their father was not going to come home again. His child was a woman now, grown up without him, without his guidance and without his love at her side. He had never stopped loving her or her brother. Nothing could have made him stop loving his daughter.

Leaning in to lick a piece of fur from her face, his whiskers shaking as he did so, reminded of her father in that moment. He couldn't help when the memories hit him. He couldn't help what they did to him. Hadn't he lost enough? He couldn't bear to think about if Venemousimpulse left, this time of her own free will. Before he knew it, the tom was overwhelmed, teary eye spilling tears as his wounded eye wept bloody tears. His daughter, she was so strong. So not like him. She was her father's daughter in every way.

"I love you, little one."

[ f l o w e r  g u i d e ] & [ t a g s ]
[align=center]"speech" | thoughts / writing