Backdated to March 2nd
His entire body hurt, the throbbing, deep pain of muscles overused, of a self pushed to the brink.
His eyes were dry, throbbing, but dry. Sable stood in front of an empty grave, dirt under his nails, and stared into the ether. An empty grave next to an older sister he had never met. A testament to how long his father had been gone, perhaps, given he could barely remember the face of the man. Perhaps that had been his revelation, him waking up one day to find that he didn’t even remember who he was looking for. That, if Maxim had walked up to him, he wouldn’t know who he was.
It hurt, but the hurt was easy to soothe now.
Hen climbed down from his shoulders to rest a flower upon the upturned dirt.
Sable Roman Redhawk would spend his birthday in a silent vigil for a father he didn’t even remember.
speaking•
ptero
Sable’s voice is barely audible due to a vocal chord deformity at birth.
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