A toddler's whines broke the still silence in the elder Marth's household, followed by a sigh from the very same Claith. He grunted, getting up from his sitting chair to shuffle over to his son with a weary smile as he looked down at his son. The boy had broken his wooden horse it seemed.
"Da-Da, the horse is broke! Look!"
The boy called out in the tongue of those from Eriu-Innis with a final whine.
"I see, my son. I see. Let me have it for a moment."
Would be his father's reply, in the very same language.
He gently took the wooden creature's remains, shuffling off into another room to find the Gluant he kept for just such an occasion. He gathered them up, dabbed the gluant onto the broken pieces, and smiled. The smile on his face drooped. He wished for all to be so simple. Releasing another sigh he returned to his little one, the smile being forced back onto his visage.
"Now. There you go. He is all better now."
He knelt down with this being uttered, offering the repaired wood.
"Da-Da, what if it breaks again?"
The little boy turned with a curious and worried look towards his father, holding the horse limply in his lap.
"Then I will fashion you a new, and better one."
Shane gave his son a pat on his head, to which he gave a giggle and dropped the horse. The little Claith decided to hug his father's leg, to which the elder Claith responded by taking up the boy in his arms to give him a bear hug.
Time passed, and night fell. A storm raged outside the walls and windows of their abode, thunder cracking down on their ears. The boy was unable to sleep, and so he slinked off to his father's side. The father slept in a chair, and not fitfully. He tossed, and turned, all before gasping and grasping at nothing as he awoke suddenly. His gaze wandered around, before he found his son. The son, with the visage of the one who wronged him most, hurt him most, took from him what mattered most. A few silent tears slid down Shane's face as he went to take up the boy and cradle him, with the boy snuggling against his father's chest happily. He could not see his father's pain, yet.
Morning came, and so the Marths rose from their slumber and shook off the sleep that had held them fast to the chair. The boy went and did the little chores he had, picking up toys, setting his bed. The older man went and produced breakfast. Upon its completion, Shane found Cadwyn already sitting down at the table meant for four, only set out for three. The two ate their food with the younger smiling happily that his father cooked, and the father frowned. His gaze settled on the third plate with a sigh, pinching his nose for a moment.
"Cadwyn, why do you set out a third spot?"
The child looked confused with this.
"For.. For… I don't know, Da."
The elder Claith sighed, and went around to his son to give him another hug. He looked over him, at how frail he was. He gave another sigh and released him, picking up the now empty trio of plates to put them all up. The son only looked on with a bit of worry on his face, before remembering his toy horse was somewhere to be played with. He got up, and wandered off into the depths of his home.
The father sat back down in his chair, weary from the simple mundane things of the morning, tired. He wanted to just sleep. Sleep the days away. But his son's footsteps broke his gloomy episode, and so all was normal in the Marth house.
"Da-Da, the horse is broke! Look!"
The boy called out in the tongue of those from Eriu-Innis with a final whine.
"I see, my son. I see. Let me have it for a moment."
Would be his father's reply, in the very same language.
He gently took the wooden creature's remains, shuffling off into another room to find the Gluant he kept for just such an occasion. He gathered them up, dabbed the gluant onto the broken pieces, and smiled. The smile on his face drooped. He wished for all to be so simple. Releasing another sigh he returned to his little one, the smile being forced back onto his visage.
"Now. There you go. He is all better now."
He knelt down with this being uttered, offering the repaired wood.
"Da-Da, what if it breaks again?"
The little boy turned with a curious and worried look towards his father, holding the horse limply in his lap.
"Then I will fashion you a new, and better one."
Shane gave his son a pat on his head, to which he gave a giggle and dropped the horse. The little Claith decided to hug his father's leg, to which the elder Claith responded by taking up the boy in his arms to give him a bear hug.
Time passed, and night fell. A storm raged outside the walls and windows of their abode, thunder cracking down on their ears. The boy was unable to sleep, and so he slinked off to his father's side. The father slept in a chair, and not fitfully. He tossed, and turned, all before gasping and grasping at nothing as he awoke suddenly. His gaze wandered around, before he found his son. The son, with the visage of the one who wronged him most, hurt him most, took from him what mattered most. A few silent tears slid down Shane's face as he went to take up the boy and cradle him, with the boy snuggling against his father's chest happily. He could not see his father's pain, yet.
Morning came, and so the Marths rose from their slumber and shook off the sleep that had held them fast to the chair. The boy went and did the little chores he had, picking up toys, setting his bed. The older man went and produced breakfast. Upon its completion, Shane found Cadwyn already sitting down at the table meant for four, only set out for three. The two ate their food with the younger smiling happily that his father cooked, and the father frowned. His gaze settled on the third plate with a sigh, pinching his nose for a moment.
"Cadwyn, why do you set out a third spot?"
The child looked confused with this.
"For.. For… I don't know, Da."
The elder Claith sighed, and went around to his son to give him another hug. He looked over him, at how frail he was. He gave another sigh and released him, picking up the now empty trio of plates to put them all up. The son only looked on with a bit of worry on his face, before remembering his toy horse was somewhere to be played with. He got up, and wandered off into the depths of his home.
The father sat back down in his chair, weary from the simple mundane things of the morning, tired. He wanted to just sleep. Sleep the days away. But his son's footsteps broke his gloomy episode, and so all was normal in the Marth house.
