Hushed Willows if we never make it back to california i want you to know i love you

he does not mind when his slow trek is interrupted -- delight had announced himself, after all. but he does not have it in him to respond to lily's affectations, the brush of her snout earning only a small grimance, the corners of his eyes pulling tight as if barracading him. her kindness is nearly unbearable. 

delight opens his mouth to answer and finds he can't. he shakes his head, offering only a helpless look. mali's sudden arrival spares him from having to try to find the words -- how does he find the words -- his son's anger is somehow easier to confront than anything else, even as it draws more guilt upon him. like a cloak, yeah. a cloak sounds about right. "mali," he murmurs, and swallows. "i was with your mother. no, brilliance and sol aren't with me. no, we can't go back." delight lowers himself. his bones are tired. "we don't know where brilliance and solomon went," he tells his son quietly, "but the sanctuary isn't safe for us anymore. remember all the cats? they were making us ill." will mali understand? probably not, and delight doesn't begrudge him for his childish anger. he should have been here to explain during the move, he should have been there instead of being sick and letting brilliance and solomon run away, he should have been a million things that he is not. 

but, "i'm here now, promise," delight says, "and we'll keep looking for your sisters, okay?" he half expects queenie to turn up over his shoulder, armed and ready to whisk mali away with her -- would he stop her at this point? probably not. for now, though, he'll do what he can. drawing himself back up he looks again at lily, trying to feign a smile that looks more like a delicate frown. "i spoke to alarian," he tells her, not wanting to hold onto any other details. let's get it all out in the open: terrible father delight singing-sunlight loses daughters and partner in one fell swoop. not that he really has the energy to feel anything about alarian right now. save that crisis for next week's lunch, amirite?