LOVE TURNS TO ASHES | 100th

[gael]

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♛ GAEL Ó BROIN

A mural adorned the front of the Ó Broin's treehouse.  Swirling strokes of wind, budding flowers and vines, symbols such as the triskele and anwen, even splashes of flames and ash.  Walking along the side, golden eyes scanned the wall that connected to the front.  A blank canvas.

The vulpine knew exactly what to paint -- the thought lingering in the back of his mind for days, pushed back by his daily routines.  By daily routines and a deeper wariness; apprehension for the memories.  The reminder of the greatest losses in his life.

Methodically, Gael gathered his paints, carefully organizing them along the edge of the treehouse's walkway.  As he worked, his thoughts drifted, wandering as the wind towards a flourishing meadow along a green countryside.

"You sent them away? All of your children?" Incredulous, Gael found his brows raised.  Meeting the triplets, he supposed, would have to wait.

"... Kaisa thought it would be best." Raziel seemed smaller then, resigned, dejected.  "I had to agree with her.  If I can't settle tensions... Our families have suffered enough, don't you think?"

Gael thinned his lips.  "Sèitheach would advise you to prepare to take a stand --" advice his younger brother could no longer give himself.  "If the talks go south, Raziel--"

"They won't.  Don't let my brothers sway you, Gael.  The more eager you are for violence, the more likely you are to find it."

"Now you sound like your father."  If only, the fox mused with a frown. "In my experience, it finds you regardless.  Especially when mortals enter the equation." Yet, Gael knew better than to push for the war to start anew -- his own children deserved to grow up in peace.

Did optimists suffer more than pessimists?  To hope for the best or dread the worst -- Gael preferred to simply be prepared for the tide to turn either direction.  To consider all the variables and predict the most likely outcome, rather than linger in baseless hopes or frantic dread.

Despite his calculated approach, the Vicar failed to foresee the fire -- failed, and lost nearly everything as a result. Perhaps I should have sent Salomé and them away... To join Kaisa.  Perhaps then, he would not be painting the drift of ashes along the side of a new home, far from the lands he'd been born in.

Regardless, he stood in the present.  His daughter and her future meant everything; he could not linger too long in the past, but he could remember it.  Even painful memories were worth holding onto.

Though it was faint, he smiled softly as he painted.  The beginnings of a family portrait were beginning to take place.  His own image sat, looking fondly towards the place he prepared for Aine.  He lingered for a moment, melancholic pain dancing within his eyes, wondering if he should paint the missing pieces of his family.

"Salomé, have you seen the children?"

"I thought they were in their room?"

While their shared bedroom displayed signs of recent life -- scattered books and colored pages -- the occupants eluded him.  With a quiet huff, the vulpine approached the front door of their cottage.  The blanket of rain greeted him as he stepped outside; light but steady.

Before he could call out, a storm of giggles met his perked ears.  Quickly, his brows rose, a startled and exasperated sigh escaping his chest.  Identical for the first time, the two fox kits scrambled up to the porch, snorting in laughter, dripping with mud and wet grass.

"Goodness," his wife's voice sputtered behind him, "have you been playing in the rain?"

Gael released a heavy sigh.  Slowly, he weaved through the clouds in his mind, deciding Alaire and Salomé belonged in the sky -- still a part of his family, even if they could no longer be present physically.  Lovingly, he painted his wife, lingering just behind and above himself; a guardian angel.

Fluidly, he moved to paint Alaire first, the boy a spitting image of himself -- except for the eyes, those came from Salomé.  Wispy, he drew clouds around the child, letting them break apart, as the boy looked at where his sister would be, wearing the goofy smile Gael rarely saw him without.

Then, with warmth in his eyes, Gael began on Aine; depicting her as the fox she'd been born as, smiling her gentle smile.  The love and happiness that existed in his daughter's eyes still brought wonder to him often.  He thought at first to bring a butterfly to the mural -- the object of his daughter's attention.

Somehow, it felt wrong.

"Salut da! Did you see all the butterflies in the garden?"

"No, I will have to visit them then."

There -- that smile.  "I think they scare Ry... But they like him."

With a quiet snort, his paws set to work -- he had to wash off the reds and oranges from his fur to switch gears to the black, brown and purple.  Rather than forego his initial thoughts, Gael decided to incorporate them in a new way, bringing the young Roux onto the canvas with a light purple butterfly adorning his nose.

The finishing touches brought flowers surrounding his daughter's paws, as well as drifting wind and ashes close to himself.  Even if the memories hurt, they were a part of him.

There.  Content, the faerie backed away to observe his work in full -- it was a portrait, he decides, Salomé would love.  Now, he supposed, he would have to finish washing the paint off of his fur.

"ISN'T IT LOVELY?" —-- gael ó broin / faerie / vicar / lamby