ALL GROWN UP AND WILLING TO CRY

SYNOPSIS: The title says it all. Two different POVs. that's why its broken up by a "~~~~"...yeah...

DISCLAIMERS: QoS characters belong nayeth to me, and all that usual stuff. Although, since I don't mention any names, it doesn't really have to have a disclaimer. Addthat to the fact that the characters & ideas are abandoned by their creators, I don't see any reason why we shouldn't be allowed to keep them... Oh well.

EXPLANATION: When I finally got around to doing a challenge response, I decided to take up the "no cast" response. But seeing as I'm sometimes logically-challenged (and the fact that I couldn't find the original post), I misinterpereted the "no cast" challenge as being a vignette where no names are mentioned. Plus, I was already half way through when I finally found the original challenge on Manzana Core...I'm such an idiot. Anyway, this is classified as a regular fic, since I didn't have the brains to do a challenge correctly.

~~~~~

Mama said it was alright to cry, so I did,
holding tight to her as I sat in her lap. Papa never said that crying was wrong,
but he didn't like it when I did. So instead, I was brave. Papa was proud
of me. But I still cried. I cried inside, where no one
could see. Mama was worried at first, but then she was happy. But then Mama
and Papa left. Gone, never to come back. It hurt
so much. So I cried. I cried for a long, long while, but then Papa told me
that I could do something. Do something besides cry.
So I went home, and I did something, to try and make him and Mama come back.
But I still cry. Inside, where no one can see.
But it doesn't help. It doesn't bring them back any more than the doing
things did. So I live on and do things. And cry.

~~~~

Father always said that "Heart, inclination, desire, and will" [*] were
the most important things in life. To live with
heart was to live strongly. To live with inclination allowed the mind and
body both to give all. To live with desire was to burn
fiercely; with an unquenchable and untouchable flame. To live with will... was
to live. Father despised weakness. He berated us
constantly for displaying our faults and not flaunting our strengths. He was
not a man to stand by and watch while a struggle
took place. He would leap into any battle that would take him, and some that
wouldn't. To wait on the sidelines was to show
frailty. To be weak. To be disgusting. Weakness, to him, was a horrid
creature that crept into the minds and hearts of men,
bred from the tears of women. He made it his quest in life to purge all
weakness from anything or anyone that was a part of
them. Perhaps that was why mother left. He cursed her for being weak, when
she was gone; standing over her grave, ranting
like the kitchen drudge did when someone filched the pots. Maybe that's why
I left. I'll never know whether it was because I
was weak, or because I was strong. Tears can mean strength. But he never
saw that. So I let the tears fall.

* Chaucer

End

~MnD | self proclaimed bard & QoS.GIF maker
http://sham.envy.nu