https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2013/02/21/19/12/charcoal-84670_1280.jpgBoth Argo and the world were in absolutely everything - in movement, in habits, in gestures. In short, everything that could be imagined. But Maria's husband had only a little hair, barely noticeable, and Mir had straight rings, golden (of the same color as her father, and the same soft) spirals. And Maria? And the addition is different, and she twitched differently, and her hair was hard and black.
And Mir's wings were dirty again... Again I ran into him somewhere. His wings dirty Argo's shirt, scarlet, as always, but he seems to have paid no attention to such trifles. And Mir sat with his father and carefully pressed the keys, as his father told him. And he was not distracted by anything. His bare feet were also dirty, and his shirt sleeve was torn.
Her dissatisfaction must have become too obvious for someone who had been dealing with the magical subconscious for so many thousands of years, because Argo turned around, looked at his first wife a little mockingly and knee-deepened the world down. At first, he looked at his father with dissatisfaction, even stomped with his foot and tried to make Argo Astal get up from his chair and sit back down, but then suddenly he looked at the door. A smile immediately lit up the face of six-year-old Drachomir.
- Mom! - Mir immediately exclaimed and rushed to Maria.
Before the duchess could say a word, her son hugged her. He pressed so hard against her that now he could hardly be unhooked. Maria Gormlate felt the hot breath of the world on her hands, felt his little hands wrapped around her. It immediately became easier. It was much easier.
"Like a rock fell from his soul" - that's what they say about this feeling of incredible relief, isn't it? Dragomir loved her, loved his mother, and when he saw her, he immediately ran to hug her. Even considering the fact that he was much more interested in his father, Maria saw it. I saw it beautifully. Not blind, though. Or blind? Since you thought the world loved her less than it loved your father?
The Duchess held her hand over her son's tangled blond curls and smiled. In the morning she was worried and prayed only that the world was alive, that nothing would happen to it. And he was alive, well, and even cheerful - everything was fine with him. Shouldn't we be thanking all the gods and primordials she remembered in her bedroom?
Argo laughed quietly. About the whole situation. She was wearing some creepy purple dress, which, it seems, accidentally, got into her bedroom, over the reaction of the World, noticed by her mother, over... with yourself, too? Oh, Argo sometimes laughed at himself too. And he was seldom offended when they laughed at him, Maria admitted it.
But he knew very well about her envy for him, thought Maria Gormlate. I knew or at least guessed. Yes - I guessed. As always. Still, he'd come in, laugh, tease her, and laugh again. It was as if there was nothing more important in his life than the fun that Maria sometimes hated. Argo was always much more perceptive than he thought.
- Have you walked Magna today, Drachomir? - He asked quietly.
It wasn't loud for him, Mary corrected her inner voice. It was for himself that he spoke softly. But Argo even whispered louder than the Duchess used to say. He was always heard too well. His loudness annoyed GormLate when they had to live together and sleep in the same bed. Whatever it was, she was annoyed when they were just dancing at some party in Ibera...
When the world heard my father's words, it wasn't like that. And he clung to his mother's skirt with all his strength. And then he pulled his head up to see if she was angry with him. And Maria hugged him back. She pressed him against her. She will talk to her husband later. At breakfast, lunch or some other time. Not now.
Argo Astal had many children. And everyone loved him, admired him, even adored him. But Maria GormLate had only one son, Mir, and she didn't want to share his love with her husband. And in general - with anyone.