Mated to Morpheus

MTM.52

failures for children

"Are you listening to me?" Morpheus ignored my shameless ramble while he placed my figure back on the ground, setting me down from his protective arms, and flattening my feet into the short deck. My toes wiggled together within the thin casing of socks. "Morpheus, I am really scared."

"I have never been afraid of Kovina," he replied.

My legs were standing up straight, frozen in fear, but my knees were weakening with each passing second. I exclaimed quickly, a mixture between whispering and shouting, as I eyed the suspicious building, "That's because it's you!"

The building itself was an unknown structure that resembled a house, but it was clearly unable to become a true home, so it persisted as a fraud. The remnants of pushing and pulling were the only connections that I had to it, and my scalp throbbed at the then recent memory. An encompassing chill murmured of dirty secrets that had long remained chained underneath the rotted siding and the loose shingles of that building. And, one by one, they would soon come to light.

Morpheus moved to take my hand before resting it against the middle of his chest. "You should not be afraid of Kovina, either. She is not as powerful as she believes," he spoke truthfully, "she never has been. Be honest with me, is what you claim the truth, my mate? Are you really afraid of Kovina, or are you afraid of her intimidation? You are strong. I would never lie to you about this fact, but I would also not leave you alone for you to realize it by yourself."

"You won't always be with me." I waved my hand through the air, shaking away his affectionate energy. "If I were to really believe that, then I would probably end up dead in a ditch somewhere."

Morpheus curled his top lip to reveal a protruding canine. His hand wrapped around my fingers as he stiffened, compressing them together in an attempt to either threaten me or keep his own composure. The action was softer than expected, but there was a lingering voice telling me to quiet myself down. He spoke again, "Is it that hard to refrain from making comments like that? I'm starting to think that you despise me."

"Well, you're not exactly in the clear."

"Must you argue?" He ran a hand down his face, dragging his frustration. "I do not enjoy this."

"Look at the state of me, Morpheus!" My stare was wide as I mocked the confidence of his words, pointing at my faltering form. The fabric of my outfit was mostly shredded and ripped, stretched and contorted. However, it was the skin beneath the material that had been affected the worst. The natural paleness burned amongst the struggle—riddled with red blotches, spattered with gore, and peppered in bruises. "I'm practically in shambles!"

A congested cry bubbled in my throat. Morpheus did not respond, so instead, I did. My tone was hushed with embarrassment, "I'm not like you."

"You are far better than me," Morpheus swore. "There were times that I would pray to my mother, to my uncles and aunts, to those who could hear my defeated faith. But, they had abandoned me in spirit. They had forgotten me in a time that I had no knowledge of. And, it took me centuries to accept that they had raised me just to desert me at the first mistake. You have made no mistakes, not like I have. It was not lust for power that controlled me, it was fear. And, I will not let it use you."

He began to twirl a fugitive curl of mine that had feathered off to the side. The strand enveloping his pointer finger. "They must have answered you once."