Ivéda & Revenge Season

Petit mensonge: Isaïe (Ee-za-yee)

"Mon petit beau, you've been pacing for the past few minutes. How stressful could the world be for you to carry its burden on your shoulders?"

He stopped to turn towards his ill mother, taken aback by her statement. His eyes, however, softened at the sight of her frail arms carefully providing her a pitiful hug of her own. Her long fingers dug into her biceps like severed claws, bunching up her sweater in a clump of muddied fabric against her emaciated body. "Mom..."

She curled into herself by the far corner of the splintered walls, her gaze darting across the room they shared with a dozen other people. "I can feel you thinking of something, Isaïe. Whatever it is, I do not approve."

Gently, he made his way to her and settled down onto his knees to meet her eyes. "Mom... the world out there cannot heal itself."

"And you are not required to save it. You're too young to be a hero."

His eyebrows furrowed, taking offense at her authoritive tone. "I'm not a hero, mother, I don't want to be. I care about you and you only." Placing a hand upon her shoulder, he cringed at the contact he made with her bone. "Beyond these walls is war, and I can't keep you safe while in hiding."

She shifted suddenly to her knees, cupping his face within both of her freezing hands. "I'm supposed to be the one protecting you, Isaïe."

"And you can't do it when you barely have any energy." He gave her a soft, reassuring smile. "You stay here, I'll go look for food." It wasn't too much of a lie. He really was going to get her food. He was even willing to sneak it in for her rather than have all these people jump him for it. But along the way, he'd be on the look out for a certain, long-haired Fairy. And oh, the thought alone had his blood boiling.