Written for theirempires. Prompt was birds.
Nana. Hen. She doesn't ask for much.
Nana doesn't ask much.
She doesn't ask much from life, only, perhaps, a good home in a good city; Tsuna discovering that things that make life wonderful, have him feeling the exhiliration, the zest, the joy of being alive; a little bit of romance, a little bit of mystery, just a little bit, to remind her of the sharper, more fleeting kind of happiness – it had felt a little like wind, a little like motorcycles, if she remembered correctly – that she gave up for the softer, golden glow of settled-down bliss.
She doesn't ask much from her husband, just enough to pay the bills with a comfortable amount left over, an occassional phone call, his strong voice on the line, saying he's okay, he's fine, everything's going well, don't worry. She doesn't need fortunes or lovely silk dresses or glittering trinkets from all over the world, doesn't need position, doesn't need overwhelming wealth or power or underground armies or the world's eye on her.
She doesn't ask much from her son, just passing grades and his continued existence, that he makes friends and be happy and grow up with a sense of worth. She doesn't need for answers, not for his lingering absernces and troubled gazes, not for the crowd of characters he brings home with him, not for the fact that he doesn't flinch very often anymore, like he'd seen things.
Nana didn't ask, she accepted, took in the world with her whole heart, and stayed content.
