Northstar Vale …when it's not your turn

The boy’s head bobbed unsteadily. Arsenio couldn’t help but chuckle. Unable to see, unable to hear, and still the child found strength to bump with the vibrations of his father’s voice. Each head bobbing motion gave a soft bump to the other son. 

Arsenio drew his tongue over the child’s face. A kiss to the crown of his head. Even in their small shapes, he could see the touches of sharp russet that highlighted their points. Gold and red and beautiful, he thought. 

My good sweet boys, Arsenio crooned.