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Posted: Mon Jan 16, 2017 9:40 am
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Posted: Mon Jan 16, 2017 2:29 pm
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How much he had to give? Leila laughed at that, but only briefly and quietly. Things were tense, and that last bit was so moody it just felt silly to her.
"God, Ezra, no."
They both had said his name so many times, and neither of them (even silent Eve) were likely to stop anytime soon. It sparked like life every time they had a chance to say it, because he was their son, and it was their son's name, and the thought this would be the first and only time they got to openly regard him in such a way was so heartbreaking it's what spurred Leila to ask him such a thing at all.
"I want... we want to know everything about you. We want to imagine what it was like to raise you. You've been away from this side of the world for so long, and-- and you've had all this magic s**t, and gone through too much, and..."
She was trembling, rambling, barely able to force out even half of what she wanted to say.
"And all I want is to not have to care about any of it and have you back even though I can't remember losing you. I still missed you. We didn't even have to know you at all for us to miss you. Of course we want you back. You don't need to have something to offer for that. You're ours."
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Posted: Fri Jan 20, 2017 3:51 pm
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The thing to realize here was that Ezra might lay claim to possibly thousands of years of life, but here, right now, he looked to be barely in his 20s. The textbook he'd been manhandling was a master's-level text on musical theory. Magical s**t was his thing, it was his entire adulthood--but he had never really known the world that Leila and Eve spoke to him from. Ezra was ******** ancient. He was also maybe twenty-four, according to the birth certificate.
Maybe.
He went rigid, like his puppet-master had pulled his strings taut. His fingers snapped inward into fists (his burned hand less tightly than the other) and he took a deep breath, for all the world like someone who was about to do a polar bear plunge or volunteer for incredibly invasive surgery. Then he said, "I have a phone number now." He took one of his index cards (one side was scribbled with notes in cramped, unsteady writing) and wrote the number on it, held it out for one of them to take.
"If you want to talk, then you can reach me there."
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