( amos is still and certain, deep and focused. he's a still point when prax feels like he's spinning wildly out of control, his life crumbling down around him, his heart being pulled in this or that direction.
he doesn't know if he can have faith. he doesn't know if he can be what amos is asking him to be. if he's strong enough. but amos is centred, the eye of the storm and prax reaches for him, mirroring amos' grip on his shoulders, tipping forward, stumbling into amos.
his face crumbles, too. )
But what if she's gone? ( and he can't —he thought he'd lost her and then he found he didn't and he wonders if this is his breaking point, the back and forth of it, if his heart will be ripped in two from the motion sooner or later. it isn't the first time he's cried because of mei, for mei, because of her absence and he's so scared for her, he's failed as her father. it isn't the first time, but it is the first time that he presses his face to someone's shoulder and just lets the tears come. )
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he doesn't know if he can have faith. he doesn't know if he can be what amos is asking him to be. if he's strong enough. but amos is centred, the eye of the storm and prax reaches for him, mirroring amos' grip on his shoulders, tipping forward, stumbling into amos.
his face crumbles, too. )
But what if she's gone? ( and he can't —he thought he'd lost her and then he found he didn't and he wonders if this is his breaking point, the back and forth of it, if his heart will be ripped in two from the motion sooner or later. it isn't the first time he's cried because of mei, for mei, because of her absence and he's so scared for her, he's failed as her father. it isn't the first time, but it is the first time that he presses his face to someone's shoulder and just lets the tears come. )