He'd been about to go back to the topic of the shelter, perhaps discuss what hours would work back to her, but the question sort of blindsides him a little. Is he okay?
No.
Yes, of course. He pushes a smile onto his face, but he doesn't have to push it too far or hold it too long. After a moment, he's able to move away from the darker thoughts and focus on the good ones. His mother's name. He knew his mother's name now. Kadesh. No. Qadesh. Most people pronounced it wrong and she didn't bother correcting them but his father-
His father.
That's a quick trip back into the darkness, into the scent of blood and salt tears and shaking hands. He backs away from that, but not too fast. He manages to catch one more thing: his father was a doctor.
Something to examine later.
The smile wavers for a moment during all that, but then it settles in strong. He's grateful. Even if it hurts, even if it burns, he's grateful to her for giving him that. He has so few things, but he can feel it, the way he clings to that name, to even the painful memories, that the one thing he's had is his past. The people who make it up. His memories of them, even if that's the only place they still live. Maybe that's why he's still willing to hold the other memories; at least they give him more people to care about.
Like Clary. He grins a little brighter at her and it is genuine. There's a silver lining to every cloud, after all.
"You gave me a memory. My mother. My mother's name." His shoulders sink a little, as much with the weight of that as anything else. "Thank you, Clary."
no subject
No.Yes, of course. He pushes a smile onto his face, but he doesn't have to push it too far or hold it too long. After a moment, he's able to move away from the darker thoughts and focus on the good ones. His mother's name. He knew his mother's name now. Kadesh. No. Qadesh. Most people pronounced it wrong and she didn't bother correcting them but his father-
His father.
That's a quick trip back into the darkness, into the scent of blood and salt tears and shaking hands. He backs away from that, but not too fast. He manages to catch one more thing: his father was a doctor.
Something to examine later.
The smile wavers for a moment during all that, but then it settles in strong. He's grateful. Even if it hurts, even if it burns, he's grateful to her for giving him that. He has so few things, but he can feel it, the way he clings to that name, to even the painful memories, that the one thing he's had is his past. The people who make it up. His memories of them, even if that's the only place they still live. Maybe that's why he's still willing to hold the other memories; at least they give him more people to care about.
Like Clary. He grins a little brighter at her and it is genuine. There's a silver lining to every cloud, after all.
"You gave me a memory. My mother. My mother's name." His shoulders sink a little, as much with the weight of that as anything else. "Thank you, Clary."