"Were I a male, they'd still wish the bloodline to continue and my gifts not to fade. Had my brother lived, it might be different. But I was my father's only child." She shrugs, and lowers her head onto her arms, still quite content to lean across his chest for now. Mmm, warm. Comfy even.
"It is a matter of weaning the good from the bad, and then finding the right good man from those that remain. And of course, one who would be willing to share the gift of his progeny with my lover and myself. And our most unusual home." Mara adds the last sentence as an afterthought. She doesn't mind talking about it with Max, perhaps because it really hasn't hit home for her yet as anything other than just another topic of conversation between friends. As for that maternal clock ticking? Not for a while yet, not for her.
She goes silent then, the only movements are her chest rising and falling with her breath, and her eyes as they slowly close and open as he begins to discuss his childhood. Carefully, as he continues to pick and choose his words, she slides her hands up and places them under her chin, lowering her head to listen. It's not just his words, but his silences that she's taking in. Those subtle nuances in tone.
"Oh and all children come with manuals, ones that you've not read yet you mean?" The words themselves gently scoff, but the emotion behind them is warm and compassionate. "Maximus, you do what any of us do that care. You try, and you learn. And sometimes you falter, but you try again mon ami. We are not gods. We make mistakes. And our children learn from us, both the right and the wrong way to do things. Would you force a dove to be a hawk, or a pigeon to be peacock? They are, each of them different. You did - and you do - the best you can."
She kissed her forefinger, gently pressed it to his cheek. "And the world is better for it, I know."
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branchandroot
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Date: 2015-03-22 07:31 am (UTC)"It is a matter of weaning the good from the bad, and then finding the right good man from those that remain. And of course, one who would be willing to share the gift of his progeny with my lover and myself. And our most unusual home." Mara adds the last sentence as an afterthought. She doesn't mind talking about it with Max, perhaps because it really hasn't hit home for her yet as anything other than just another topic of conversation between friends. As for that maternal clock ticking? Not for a while yet, not for her.
She goes silent then, the only movements are her chest rising and falling with her breath, and her eyes as they slowly close and open as he begins to discuss his childhood. Carefully, as he continues to pick and choose his words, she slides her hands up and places them under her chin, lowering her head to listen. It's not just his words, but his silences that she's taking in. Those subtle nuances in tone.
"Oh and all children come with manuals, ones that you've not read yet you mean?" The words themselves gently scoff, but the emotion behind them is warm and compassionate. "Maximus, you do what any of us do that care. You try, and you learn. And sometimes you falter, but you try again mon ami. We are not gods. We make mistakes. And our children learn from us, both the right and the wrong way to do things. Would you force a dove to be a hawk, or a pigeon to be peacock? They are, each of them different. You did - and you do - the best you can."
She kissed her forefinger, gently pressed it to his cheek. "And the world is better for it, I know."