Sunbeam Lair vicariously I live while the whole world dies

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: suggestion, more sad self-deprecating bs that is potentially triggering/kinda whump-y, language

 

Ha!
The implication behind his statement gives her a chill. The assumption was that she would care about her children, would feel any kind of maternal connection; and if she would or not, she didn't know, and didn't want to find out. 
And as if she wasn't doing such a thing right now, with Marcus, with Silvertongue, with—
I'd be a shitty ma, she grumbles, another sniffle as she blinks away the remaining tears. I'd be a shitty wife, too. Meat. I am meat, a vessel, temporary warmth. And I don't think this fuckin' planet needs any more of my genetics flopping around and causing a disaster. Especially not if they come outta me. I don't even got the looks to justify it.
Had she hands, she would have lit a cigarette then, sucking the bitter smoke into her lungs and let it flow from her nostrils until they burned.
I'm glad we didn't, she murmurs, chestnut gaze falling upon him with the rimlight of the stars in her eyes. but I kinda wish we did. 
And in those six words lies a philosophy, a self-portrait. A sad, lonely girl, scratching at walls and begging for just a taste of what real love could be like. One night where, if she squinted, she could make out a silhouette of happiness, a painting where she cannot see the brushstrokes. But even still, she would not beg him for it.