BISHOP (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
getting_better) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
the_big_ol_book_o_stories2022-09-11 12:42 am
getting_better) wrote in the_big_ol_book_o_stories2022-09-11 12:42 am
For Shiho
[ Once, his very presence was cause for concern of hundreds of powerful and terrifying people. Once, the shadows of his wings were an omen for certain death. Once, he resigned himself to a life muddled by sorrow, blood, and suffering. Once, he was a dead man walking.
Now, the guns unloaded and put away, the blade resigned to a display ornament locked behind a glass case, the horrid bitter memories are still there but no longer at the forefront. Now he sleeps in a warm bed, in a nice home, next to a woman who crashed into his life and derailed him from what he believed to be his "fate". It was clear that "fate" no longer had a place in his life.
He was a person, a being, someone who can smile, laugh, cry, and rest whenever he needed to. Whenever he wanted to. His name is Samuel Sannomiya-Mercer, the dutiful and loving husband to Shiho Sannomiya-Mercer. Ten years have passed since they tied that knot, eight since he started his business, and seven months since they both decided that it was time for their little family of two to become bigger and after going through the necessary procedures - that plan was well on it's way.
Ecstatic doesn't even come close to how he felt, there were no words in fact, that he could say that could capture the moment they found that she was with child - his child.....And there was even less when the joy had turned into a quiet existential dread as the word "Father" fell on him like a ton of bricks. The days in his office were spent in a solemn haze as fifteen thousand thoughts and concerns raced through his mind, often looping around themselves. Now he sits in a painted room, the third coat and color he'd applied this week. It started of pastel blue on a Monday, by Wednesday it was a minty green, and today - Thursday, it was a sweet lilac. He stared at the wall as if it had caused him some offense and said - ]
....How did I even get this color? I'm pretty sure I meant this to be pink.
...
What the hell did it say on the can?
[ Grumbling, he turned on the floor where he sat cross legged, paint covered shirt and old jeans, used rollers and brushes next to him as was a dozen cans of opened and unopened paint. The furniture that was already in the room were moved to the hall, AGAIN, so he can do this nonesense. Repainting the room, not glaring at a can that has some ridiculously long pretentious name which he thought meant pink, not pale purple. ]
Now, the guns unloaded and put away, the blade resigned to a display ornament locked behind a glass case, the horrid bitter memories are still there but no longer at the forefront. Now he sleeps in a warm bed, in a nice home, next to a woman who crashed into his life and derailed him from what he believed to be his "fate". It was clear that "fate" no longer had a place in his life.
He was a person, a being, someone who can smile, laugh, cry, and rest whenever he needed to. Whenever he wanted to. His name is Samuel Sannomiya-Mercer, the dutiful and loving husband to Shiho Sannomiya-Mercer. Ten years have passed since they tied that knot, eight since he started his business, and seven months since they both decided that it was time for their little family of two to become bigger and after going through the necessary procedures - that plan was well on it's way.
Ecstatic doesn't even come close to how he felt, there were no words in fact, that he could say that could capture the moment they found that she was with child - his child.....And there was even less when the joy had turned into a quiet existential dread as the word "Father" fell on him like a ton of bricks. The days in his office were spent in a solemn haze as fifteen thousand thoughts and concerns raced through his mind, often looping around themselves. Now he sits in a painted room, the third coat and color he'd applied this week. It started of pastel blue on a Monday, by Wednesday it was a minty green, and today - Thursday, it was a sweet lilac. He stared at the wall as if it had caused him some offense and said - ]
....How did I even get this color? I'm pretty sure I meant this to be pink.
...
What the hell did it say on the can?
[ Grumbling, he turned on the floor where he sat cross legged, paint covered shirt and old jeans, used rollers and brushes next to him as was a dozen cans of opened and unopened paint. The furniture that was already in the room were moved to the hall, AGAIN, so he can do this nonesense. Repainting the room, not glaring at a can that has some ridiculously long pretentious name which he thought meant pink, not pale purple. ]
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