February 5th: Wistful - 100 words - What could have been? Oh, if only they were here now!
Tien sniffled and rubbed his eyes as Chiaotzu herded him into their room. He had cried the whole way back to the Crane School, huddling close beneath Chiaotzu's arm and occasionally pressing his small, hot face into the telepath's surcoat.
Now they were home. Safe.
"It's okay. We're okay now, huh?"
"Home," Tien said, nodding. He sat on the hard stone floor, pulled his papers towards him and started to draw again. His hands were still shaking a little, making the lines hesitant and uncertain.
Chiaotzu sat opposite, watching Tien draw with a thin, forced smile on his face. He wished he could comfort the boy more. Better. Could soothe and settle and reassure. His own fear was limiting his emotional connection. In an effort to appear brave he was dampening everything down, so Tien wouldn't see the fear or the worry or the anger.
I wish mumma was here, he thought as Tien sketched out a huge hulking shadow behind the smiling interlinked stick figures that were his favourite. She'd know what to do.
The thought panged a deep wave of grief and longing in his chest. The image of her gentle smile, of her kind eyes, of her comforting touch as she'd held him close to her. She had been like a lighthouse, in a way. Constant. Reassuring. She had steered him clear of danger and brought him close to the safety of her embrace.
Tien had started filling in the hulking shape and fear had pulled his features out of shape. Chiaotzu reached out one hand and placed it over the drawing.
"Let's draw something else, okay? I'll draw with you." He pulled the paper away, Tien's pencil leaving a thick dark line through the interconnected squiggles of their arms, and pulled a fresh one over. He grabbed the other pencil (red, why did it have to be red?) and offered a reassuring smile.
Tien relaxed slightly, returned it. He bent and started drawing again. A tree this time, but different to the ones around here. This one didn't have the straight spine and weighted branches of the conifers. Instead this one had a gnarled knotted trunk with thick naked limbs reaching towards the sky. Perhaps it was Tien's shaky hand giving the tree its twisted varying path. Maybe it was a hint of psychic energy within the boy's own power.
All Chiaotzu knew was that it was tree he only saw in his dreams. Only when he dreamt of the woman he had been thinking of and missing so acutely.
"Where's that, Tien?"
Tien looked up, shrugged. He didn't know. "Chaozu, draw," he commanded. A smile pulled at Chiaotzu's lips and he obediently pulled a bit of paper towards him and began his own scribbled drawing.
He tried to draw his mother's face. It didn't translate well to paper, especially not in red. Tien looked over and gently put his hand on Chiaotzu's drawing, resting his palm on the cheek of the face.
"Chaozu," he said, and smiled a shy little smile that mended some of the cracks that had appeared in Chiaotzu's heart.
"No, Tien, this is…" He hesitated then sighed. "This is my mother. She's…gone…"
"Gone?" Tien frowned and looked down at the smiling face crudely drawn in thick red lines. Uncertainly he added, "Chaozu stay…?"
Chiaotzu felt tears sting and blinked them away. A flash of his mother's face the last time he'd seen her passed through his mind and he smiled a wobbly smile.
"That's right, Tien." His hand covered the toddler's, holding tight. "I'm here to stay. With you. I promise."