He was alone again. The god was alone. That was how he usually liked it. This time, however, was not quite the same picture. It was... a different context. He felt something.He felt something he shouldn't have felt. It was emptiness, loneliness, and a deep betrayal that ran through his very veins. It chilled him like no other. He was... Dark. He retreated to the clouds - the darkest part he could find, and made a big sweep of his wings to cover himself.
He was alone, and it was not the kind of alone he evoked.
That alone was enough to chill him to his core.
She had sensed a call. But this call was a little different than the ones she normally answered throughout the mortal realm. It was his son. She knew her son well - quiet, the charming little thing. A little bit moody, like his father, sometimes brooding on things and looking too unfriendly a good portion of his life - but she would have it no other way, for he as her son. She would move a thousand moons across the sky for her son if she had to.The call brought her up and into the heavens, across the clouds. There weren't many gods that resided here, or at least - not in the area she scanned in, as their haven was as large as Mkodi willed it.
But if she knew her son, he would be up here, as he most often liked to be alone with the clouds for company - and even then, he would not have them. She sensed something had been wrong with the lands - she had seen less and less of Nalini's influence every night, and then before she fully realized it, there was none...
Her large wings swooped in to a particular patch of dark clouds and she landed herself on one overlooking a big fluff of darkness. Even her son's tricks could not fool her.
"Mushkeli," she said in her soft, ever the welcoming and kind voice.
He thought he was safe. Up here in their haven, up here, even using his powers to protect himself. Perhaps he was trying to protect himself from Nalini, even. What if she came..? He did not know what he could do. And so he had cloaked himself, hiding. Hiding from even his children. No one could come, his force was impenetrable...
But then, he heard a voice, and his name. He knew it - so familiar, so kind, so loving. He felt a hard rock drop in his chest, his eyes lightening up to open from being closed. His heart moved for the first time since he had last seen Nalini, and he turned, unwrapping his wings from around himself to look up to a dark figure, darker than himself, even.
He wanted to smile, he really did. But he could not. His heart leaned towards his mother, but his soul was still broken.
She saw the pain in Mushkeli's eyes - the anguish, the confusion, the worries, the deep sadness. Her own silver eyes softened for him, her love gushing out of her for her only child in this lifetime.
"Mushkeli..." she said again, this time with more compassion dripping out.
One part of her wanted to float down to him, holding him in her wings. But she was old and wise enough to know that Mushkeli would not appreciate that kind of offer. He was experienced enough too, to handle himself and to not be caressed by her wings - she would dishonor him in doing so, and nodded away that desire. As well, he was simply too big for her now to hug him!
"Mushkeli," she said a third and final time - this time with affirmative tone, "Why are you doing this, child? I am here. The family is here, and all with you in spirit. Do not let such a burden invoke such grief."
Sure enough, his mother's presence made him feel comfortable enough to look up at her. There was no other mother who could be as perfect as this, he thought sometimes. Even though he had no one to call a father, she was the best in raising him and looking after him. Her judgment, her wisdom, and her compassion... It was all something Mushkeli felt honored to have, and yet guilty that he did not spend as much time with her, keeping her up to date. Nalini had been the one to do that for him most of the time, getting him out of his shell to even see his mother. But just the thought of Nalini... He mustn't stray there. No, it was far too early still for him to speak of her without feeling the deep seated betrayal of trust.
"You're missing out on work," he commented plainly and a bit too harshly, concealing his sorrow yet equal gratefulness that his mother had showed up.
"Bast," he said, "Mother."
Even though the situation was severe, a smile lit up within the blackness of her cheeks, amused that her son could still try and keep his composure despite what he was going through. Ah, it was just like her family to be that way.
"My son," she replied, a hint of joy at the acknowledgment, "We must move on, unfortunately... When the dawn breaks, the night must leave, once it is obvious the world will not have it."
She left her words unclear, as she usually did with him and many others. She didn't need to tell him anything at all. She knew he knew, and it could not be to his benefit for her to lecture him in plain words.
"No, mother," Mushkeli replied, "That is the problem... To move on. Move on from what? I should have never moved in the first place. To move... is to place oneself in a different spot. That... is the problem..."
Bast looked at him sadly, registering his words solemnly but with a frown. It was hard, honestly, to deal with this as her son. Sure, she had been through many a mortals' problems, but this was different. They were gods, and he was her god son.
"Regret," he uttered, "Regret is the result of moving. And what comes after? That is the question."
"Alright Mushkeli," she offered slowly, "Let me tell you a story about father..."