Title: Sometimes
Genre: Angst/Introspective
Pairing: Sessmom/Inupapa, Izayoi/Inupapa
Word Count: 375
Sometimes
Izayoi is a pretty thing, but nothing impressive. He thinks she is lovely and knows she is kind. When she is insipid he finds it charming. She is human, a mortal, an insignificant, whose fragile, achingly short life is ever in need of protection.
Sometimes he loves her.
For Izayoi he cast aside a devoted wife who loves- loved- him beyond reason and gained the ire of a son. He is uncertain which is the greater pain.
His wife is beauty personified, strength beyond measure, power unyielding, and wisdom of the ages. The flow of centuries, the ebb of time, they have been kind to her. She grows powerful whilst he simply grows old. He loves her still, but it was better to leave, than to be left.
Sesshoumaru is his mother's child. He was born with a pragmatic heart and passionate soul buried, ever protected, beneath walls of shimmering ice. Never again shall he breach those frigid walls. For it is difficult for a child to forgive his mother's tears.
Izayoi loves freely and smiles sweetly. She is a gentle soul with an innocent mind. She needs him greatly.
Izayoi is flickering mote of light. His wife, his son, they are stars.
He pets Izayoi's head, threading his clawed hands into her ebony tresses. His mouth brushes against hers in the barest of kisses. She blushes and he smiles.
Demurely she basks at his feet and gazes up at him as if he were a god. She lays her head against his knee and sighs like a content child. She dozes and he reflects.
He thinks of his son and the child, soon to be, which should never have been. He thinks of old battles and new wars. He thinks of his wife, alone in her moonlit castle.
Izayoi thinks of fairytale weddings and a house filled with the pattering of tiny feet. She dreams of silken kimono, lovely ladies, sturdy castles, and powerful samurai heroes. She has found her hero, her knight-errant, though she was in no danger until he crossed her door.
"I love you," she murmurs causally, empty, and all too freely.
He stares hard, nearly glares, and then softens, relents. Her words are a salve, a haphazard bandage, for his guilt-poisoned soul.
He loves her--sometimes.
