Summary: They told her she frowned too often and smiled too little throughout all those seasons she watched. [Mylene and Zelos centric.]
AN: All characters, places, etc. are the property of Bamco. D: I am just a lowly fan.
The windows burned beneath her fingers in early summer, and she perched herself on a lone chair amongst the madness of her mansion and watched the world change. Life burst from the deepest corners and loneliest crevices, leaves caressing their branches and brushing the scattered earth below-- flowers, freshly opened and reasonably young, blinked new colors at the glass.
She stirred, the screech of her door being opened and the foreign rustle of clothing shattering her secretive silence-- Zelos was barely beyond boyhood, and his jumpiness filled the empty chamber to the brim with activity and curiosity; he bounded forward in a blur of red and royal blue motion, beaming with a warmth and a happiness she refused to characterize. Mylene was no companion to children, and found she couldn't shed her indifference and blossom into motherhood-- every time she came close, she backed away in the grips of a peculiar fear, one that despised and worried for him. As he chattered, his commentary a desperate plea for attention, she frowned, and saw the glass glint in midday sunlight.
Mylene was not maternal, and Zelos had come searching for his mother; she was nowhere to be found, and thus Mylene sent him away.
Autumn waltzed in with a flourish of red, yellow, and orange, and its fire left behind ash and death, their garden's trees stripped bare and skeletal. Mylene felt a fleeting smile tugging at her lips, and she mused of her son, and his wanderings-- she saw him as he grew and played, his face already the mirror image of his father's, and his same charm able to turn even the hardest, most stolid maid to a doting matron. That familiar flattery that led stray women to her wedding bed, now left abandoned and as a reminder of the near-violation she had suferred-- his unwanted birth had murdered something inside her, and he was its haunting phantom.
Yes, she thought, he would be similar, and that hurt her; it was a brief stab of pain, internal and buried, and Mylene wondered where it had been hiding all his short life. She tensed as the door was pulled ajar, tiredly and without any passion, and Zelos rushed inside-- Mylene felt his quiet depression, and turned her head listlessly to watch him.
"Zelos," she murmured as he reached for the armoire, Zelos stiffening beneath her gaze, ". . . Your vest. It's been done-up incorrectly."
"Ah--" his face was stained red, "Mother, I didn't mean to cause you trouble--" She wondered what he thought of her, and motioned that he come forward; Zelos answered with silence, and then managed one awkward step, subdued shock playing across his features.
Her fingers were nimble as she slipped the buttons back into their loops, and Mylene forced a humored grin, "There, isn't that better?" Zelos grumbled his protests, but was brighter beneath his mask.
Winter brought snow, unfamiliar and luminous beneath the sunlight, and she was caught within the same web of awe her child was. Its white billowed and swayed with the wind, alive with movement; Mylene smiled as he rapped wildly on the ageless wood frame, then threw the door open in a frenzy--- he whirled to the right, and his eyes fell on her, perfect and colored her own sunny off-blue.
He ran to the window, eager fingers pressed against the glass, and commented offhandedly that its surface was chilled with the cold, "Amazing! It's completely white outside," his words were jumbled, "I've never seen so much snow!"
"Hey, Mother! We should try going outside," Zelos chirped, tossing his arms out haphazardly in his excitement.
"Maybe . . ." she replied dreamily, and he bloomed with uncertainty and hope. "I guess it's good every once in a while." Yes, it was good to be his mother occasionally, and, all good things aside, she wanted to show him the change he'd wrought. The kind that only windows through the soul saw.
In spring, Mylene and her smiles were all silent, and the window was covered at Zelos' request, suffocated with blood-colored curtains and the sense of abandonment.
AN: There you have it! I don't get the feeling Mylene hated Zelos like he claims; if she did, why bother going outside at all? (She seemed to be warming up to him in that ToS!Extra side-story, thus I felt tempted to write this.) Review if possible!