Prompt: "I can't tell you my nightmare this time… It's too bad, I don't want to have to say it out loud.", requested by kagekitsuneoflight

Often she regrets. Often she worries. Often she cries.

Ever since the journey to the past came to the end, her daughter hadn't been the same. Certainly she kept a mask of normalcy on, and it was firmly on quite well. But, Kun-loon knew better. There were glimpses of torments within through the widening cracks of that mask.

There were things that were simply off, too.

Kagome didn't typically care for makeups, but she had been wearing more and more foundation, giving that strange uncanny valley appearance on her skin. Or how quiet she had been, walking like a ghost, like she was a fearful prey paranoid for being a lunch. Or, how disturbingly early she'd get up, for seemingly no reason at all.

Most were ignored and passed off as nothing by her young son and father-in-law, but even they noticed how Kagome's smiles didn't always match her eyes on some days. They didn't ask questions, they didn't worry either. Kun-loon, being a mother at heart, worried, nitpicks of fear stabbing into the corners of her heart.

She didn't know if she should ask questions.

Are you okay? seems like such a shallow question to ask.

Of course her daughter wasn't okay.

So, she waited instead, keeping a close watch on her dear daughter.

Never once had she stop regretting letting her daughter go through that cursed well, but Kun-loon kept her head high and hoped for the best for Kagome.

And hoped for her happiness too.

Late at night, Kun-loon purposefully made it a habit to watch a television show (a show she didn't even like) under the pretense that it was only available on the certain hour, in order to be alert. Just in case her daughter needed her mother. When the episode ended, she moved to sneak by and to peek into Kagome's room.

It was difficult to keep her feet light like her daughter had, but Kun-loon tried just the same. Creeping into the corridor from the stair, she paused and craned her head to see if Kagome left her door a crack open again. Sometimes she forget to close it.

Though, it had been rare since her permanent return home.

Kun-loon frowned and hoped it wasn't locked. She resumed her tiptoeing. Stopping before Kagome's door, her mother found herself missing the childish decors Kagome once kept on it. Withdrawing a breath Kun-loon moved to knock.

And the door popped open.

She froze at the sight of exhaustion on her daughter's face, with dark bags under her blue eyes, "Kagome?" Kun-look paled at the miserable sight.

With a strained whimper Kagome grabbed onto her mama's wrist and dragged her inside wordlessly. The locks were jiggled on, and Kun-loon kept in a surprised noise when she was embraced tightly around her waist, "Kagome, dear?"

"Mama." Kagome dug her face into her mother's warm shoulder, "I…" A hiccup interrupted.

Realizing her daughter's tears Kun-loon navigated her way onto the soft-colored bed and quietly dropped herself onto the mattress. Kagome followed, glad for any comfort she could get. "Kagome, dear, rest your head on my lap."

Nodding dimly Kagome curled her body onto the bed and nestled her head onto her mother's lap. Her tensions loosened a slightest, when Kun-loon's hands darted to her mane and swept through them. "I'm sorry, mama." Kagome started, burrowing her face into her mother's belly, not wanting to see the worries in her eyes.

Kun-loon paused, before resuming her gentle comfort, "Why are you sorry for, sweetie?"

"I…" Her breath hitched, and her shoulders stiffened again, "I haven't been a good daughter and sister, have I?"

"Oh, dear, no." Kun-loon furrowed her brows, "Why would you ever think that?"

Kagome gave a weak shrug.

Sighing, Kun-loon allowed for a moment of silence. Comfort, it seemed, is more important. She was happy to offer that—after all, all good mothers would.

It was plain to see that her daughter hadn't been happy. She hadn't been in a long while, Kun-loon realized. All the signs were there, but Kagome did such a good job of hiding them that no one (but her own mother) thought otherwise.

"Mama…" Kagome started again, after a long series of sniffing, "I had a nightmare, mama."

Rubbing a hand onto her spine Kun-loon set her a sad glance, "…It's not the first one, isn't it?"

Kagome shook her head, not once picking up from her mother's lap. After a pause she said, "I can't tell…" She bit back a whimper, "It's too bad," a tremble broke out, "I don't want to have to say it out loud."

Her whimpers quietened when Kagome felt a weight of her mother's head onto her neck. It was a warm, comfortable weight that told her that she was safe, and safe in her mother's arm. A sigh breathed into her ear.

Kun-loon had a tiniest bit of choke, before she tried again, "…Do you want to talk about it?"

Kagome considered her answer. She nodded against her mother's head, "Yes."

"I'm listening, sweetie." Kun-loon murmured, curling in her arm tightly over Kagome's back, into the semblance of a hug, "I'm listening."