Fic: Portrait
I got the go ahead to post this from emaniahilel since it was part of her birthday present, takes place in the Fable-verse, and stars her own creation, Jonathon Bruce Grayson - the eldest child of Robin and Raven.
Victoria Angela Grayson also makes a few appearances and is also the brainchild of Em, Robin and Raven's youngest.
This story is more of a character sketch than anything else as Jonathon contemplates the complicated nature of his mother through the years.
Portrait
by Kysra
*Through the Eyes of Morpheus*
Jon - 3 years old
He likes her best when he has just awakened from a nightmare, shaking with a scream just born from his throat. There are dodgy shadows creeping toward his bed and away from The Brat’s crib in the corner where her sunshine-baby dreams threaten them. So he creeps back against the wall, eyes wide and panicked and searching for safety.
She comes when he believes the monsters will have him, and her face is tired, lined, and grayer than usual; but her eyes are wet and shining warmth like melting violet crayons. He likes her best this way, all dull and softened around the edges, sleep warm and weary; because it is in the night that she is unguarded and free to cuddle him close with gentle arms and the hoarse grit of her voice.
Here, in the dark, she slumps over him and rests her cheek against his head as she nestles him into her shoulder, rocking him with her whole body, running fumbling fingers through his hair.
He likes her best when it’s just the two of them in the dead of night or the very birth of morning because it’s the only time she is not awkward or confused about how to be Mommy, and he is not awkward or confused about why he knows that Mommy feels scared every time she looks at him.
*Sketching Formalities*
Jon - 6 years old
When he is six years old and wizened beyond his meager years, he inexplicably abandons calling his mother the juvenile ‘Momma’ and begins to address her in the formal, more respectful ‘Mother’. It has taken all of his life thus far to understand that Mother requires the reception of such shows of good etiquette though he can’t begin to comprehend why. But he loves Mother and wishes to please her so he names her title and feels validated when she gifts him her smile and pats his head.
No one asks why he calls her such, not even Tori who stubbornly clings to her childish cries for ‘Mommy’, not even Papa who seems to take everything in stride. Instead, he is cooed at by their relatives for being such an intelligent, well-mannered child, and he only entertains a small amount of frustration that they can’t see the reason even though it’s staring them in the face every time Mother walks into the room.
He isn’t sure how he discovered it. He knows neither Papa or Mother never spoke a word about it; but the knowledge is there, and he can’t ignore it. The idea frightens him so badly, he cries in his bed sometimes when he comes home from school to find that she isn’t there.
Mother’s mother gave her away. It is why she never knew how to be Mommy. It is why she fears him and Tori even though she loves them, even though they love her so much. And he is so afraid that one day he’ll find her gone forever, that he will do anything to please her. So he calls her ‘Mother’ to honor her and to constantly remind her of her role in his life.
*Canvas of Truth*
Jon - 13 years old
When Uncle Vic confirms his suspicions that Mother is not (strictly) human and that her youth had been wrought with peril since she was little older than himself, he learns to appreciate her watchful looks and how she pads into his room when she believes him asleep to smooth his hair and whisper a kiss, a benediction upon his forehead.
It is later, when the stories told a thousand times dancing in his head bow to logic that he begins to wonder what her blood, entrusted to him and his sister, will mean for them. It is later that he truly comprehends just how much Mother has sacrificed and suffered to win what happiness she now has and seeks to share, to spread.
And he is thankful, so utterly grateful for the truth that blinds him to the scars that peek out behind the bright, swimming eyes that seek and find him when she is in the forefront of his thoughts. His mother is a fighter, but more than that, she is a survivor; and he somehow realizes that though she still entertains a level of uncertainty when acting as ‘parent’, she was never afraid of them - him and Tori. Mother has many fears, but the one she forces down hardest is the fear of losing them . . . . just as he has fought the terror of losing her.
*Stable Strokes*
Jon - 17 years old
She is always there when he gets hurt or confused or frustrated, appearing just outside his classroom window or at his bedroom door or even his friend’s house when he needs her most. It has simply always been so; and he takes it for granted that she will be there forever until a day a few weeks before his high school graduation when Father, frantic and bleeding in his starched blue dress shirt, pulls him and Tori out of class.
He can feel the panic rolling off Father like the dark clouds of an approaching storm, sense the simmering rage vibrating just beneath the surface; and he knows that something has happened to Mother before Father ever voices the reality.
Tori cries softly, unable to fully control whatever intuitive reflex she has inherited. It is cold in the back seat of the car, and he holds her hugged to his side for warmth though the quiver of his insides tell a different story.
People always tell him that though he is the very image of his father, he reminds them most of his mother; and he has always felt a special bond to the woman who gave him life as a result. He tells himself over and over that he would feel it if she died, and since he has felt nothing, she must be okay. Memories overcome him in the minutes?, hours? that span the distance between school and Mother; and as Tori wipes the tears from his cheeks, he wonders when he allowed himself to cry.
Mother is awake but barely aware when they reach the hospital, and he can barely look at her without wanting to throw up. Black bruises and blacker stitches stand out against the pale ash skin and her left arm is in a cast of plaster and lime green mesh. Tubes and IVs are shoved into and strung out of her body, but she finds the strength to hold his hand and lightly cradle Tori to her chest.
He doesn’t know what happened. He hasn’t yet decided whether he wants to know; but he has never seen relief on Mother’s face until they appeared through the hospital room door. It is then he is certain that as much as he needs Mother, Mother needs him more.
*Rainbow Palette*
Jon - 22
It is during his engagement party that he first realizes that Father owns Mother’s smile.
Tori has romanticized their parents’ love since childhood, but he has never understood the appeal of such fairytale delusions until all the guests have left and he finds them dancing on the trash laden lawn in back of Wayne Manor with only the moonlight to illuminate their steps.
Mother has always been a pillar of strength to his eyes, but finding his own love has changed his perspective and he notices how she leans into Father’s arms allowing him to support her; how she nestles herself into the curve of his shoulder as if she wishes to be cradled there; and how her feet seem to float above the ground, completely trusting Father to steer and lead. Her eyes are closed and there is a smile upon her lips that speak of total contentment.
He suddenly feels as he did all those years ago when his nightmares called her to him and she would hold him till he fell asleep again. There has always been a veil of fragility falling around Mother like invisible tears; and for most of his life, he had believed that veil to be sadness. Now, watching his parents’ love each other as they danced for the stars and moon, he comes to the conclusion that it was never the fraying gray of bittersweet sorrow but a subdued and shimmering cloak of pure happiness.
Father had given this gift to her, and she, in turn, had given Father her smile in triplicate - adorning her person with it then duplicating the expression on Tori and himself.
Before he can convince himself to stop, he has taken steps toward his parents and asks to cut in. Father studies him for several moments before grinning his knowing grin and relinquishing Mother into his arms. She watches him as she always does before breaking the silence with a grave, “Congratulations.”
It is not until she tightens her hand in his that he knows that he wants to tell her that he always knew that she feared failing him and Tori, how he had been so afraid of losing her as a child, how he always wondered about her own mother, and how he believed himself blessed and honored to be her son.
But as he opened his mouth to express all of these thoughts and more, as his chest filled with warmth and his throat clogged with tears and a million words of gratitude, all that came out was four perfect words.
“I love you, Mom.”
Enjoy!
- Kysra
Victoria Angela Grayson also makes a few appearances and is also the brainchild of Em, Robin and Raven's youngest.
This story is more of a character sketch than anything else as Jonathon contemplates the complicated nature of his mother through the years.
Portrait
by Kysra
*Through the Eyes of Morpheus*
Jon - 3 years old
He likes her best when he has just awakened from a nightmare, shaking with a scream just born from his throat. There are dodgy shadows creeping toward his bed and away from The Brat’s crib in the corner where her sunshine-baby dreams threaten them. So he creeps back against the wall, eyes wide and panicked and searching for safety.
She comes when he believes the monsters will have him, and her face is tired, lined, and grayer than usual; but her eyes are wet and shining warmth like melting violet crayons. He likes her best this way, all dull and softened around the edges, sleep warm and weary; because it is in the night that she is unguarded and free to cuddle him close with gentle arms and the hoarse grit of her voice.
Here, in the dark, she slumps over him and rests her cheek against his head as she nestles him into her shoulder, rocking him with her whole body, running fumbling fingers through his hair.
He likes her best when it’s just the two of them in the dead of night or the very birth of morning because it’s the only time she is not awkward or confused about how to be Mommy, and he is not awkward or confused about why he knows that Mommy feels scared every time she looks at him.
*Sketching Formalities*
Jon - 6 years old
When he is six years old and wizened beyond his meager years, he inexplicably abandons calling his mother the juvenile ‘Momma’ and begins to address her in the formal, more respectful ‘Mother’. It has taken all of his life thus far to understand that Mother requires the reception of such shows of good etiquette though he can’t begin to comprehend why. But he loves Mother and wishes to please her so he names her title and feels validated when she gifts him her smile and pats his head.
No one asks why he calls her such, not even Tori who stubbornly clings to her childish cries for ‘Mommy’, not even Papa who seems to take everything in stride. Instead, he is cooed at by their relatives for being such an intelligent, well-mannered child, and he only entertains a small amount of frustration that they can’t see the reason even though it’s staring them in the face every time Mother walks into the room.
He isn’t sure how he discovered it. He knows neither Papa or Mother never spoke a word about it; but the knowledge is there, and he can’t ignore it. The idea frightens him so badly, he cries in his bed sometimes when he comes home from school to find that she isn’t there.
Mother’s mother gave her away. It is why she never knew how to be Mommy. It is why she fears him and Tori even though she loves them, even though they love her so much. And he is so afraid that one day he’ll find her gone forever, that he will do anything to please her. So he calls her ‘Mother’ to honor her and to constantly remind her of her role in his life.
*Canvas of Truth*
Jon - 13 years old
When Uncle Vic confirms his suspicions that Mother is not (strictly) human and that her youth had been wrought with peril since she was little older than himself, he learns to appreciate her watchful looks and how she pads into his room when she believes him asleep to smooth his hair and whisper a kiss, a benediction upon his forehead.
It is later, when the stories told a thousand times dancing in his head bow to logic that he begins to wonder what her blood, entrusted to him and his sister, will mean for them. It is later that he truly comprehends just how much Mother has sacrificed and suffered to win what happiness she now has and seeks to share, to spread.
And he is thankful, so utterly grateful for the truth that blinds him to the scars that peek out behind the bright, swimming eyes that seek and find him when she is in the forefront of his thoughts. His mother is a fighter, but more than that, she is a survivor; and he somehow realizes that though she still entertains a level of uncertainty when acting as ‘parent’, she was never afraid of them - him and Tori. Mother has many fears, but the one she forces down hardest is the fear of losing them . . . . just as he has fought the terror of losing her.
*Stable Strokes*
Jon - 17 years old
She is always there when he gets hurt or confused or frustrated, appearing just outside his classroom window or at his bedroom door or even his friend’s house when he needs her most. It has simply always been so; and he takes it for granted that she will be there forever until a day a few weeks before his high school graduation when Father, frantic and bleeding in his starched blue dress shirt, pulls him and Tori out of class.
He can feel the panic rolling off Father like the dark clouds of an approaching storm, sense the simmering rage vibrating just beneath the surface; and he knows that something has happened to Mother before Father ever voices the reality.
Tori cries softly, unable to fully control whatever intuitive reflex she has inherited. It is cold in the back seat of the car, and he holds her hugged to his side for warmth though the quiver of his insides tell a different story.
People always tell him that though he is the very image of his father, he reminds them most of his mother; and he has always felt a special bond to the woman who gave him life as a result. He tells himself over and over that he would feel it if she died, and since he has felt nothing, she must be okay. Memories overcome him in the minutes?, hours? that span the distance between school and Mother; and as Tori wipes the tears from his cheeks, he wonders when he allowed himself to cry.
Mother is awake but barely aware when they reach the hospital, and he can barely look at her without wanting to throw up. Black bruises and blacker stitches stand out against the pale ash skin and her left arm is in a cast of plaster and lime green mesh. Tubes and IVs are shoved into and strung out of her body, but she finds the strength to hold his hand and lightly cradle Tori to her chest.
He doesn’t know what happened. He hasn’t yet decided whether he wants to know; but he has never seen relief on Mother’s face until they appeared through the hospital room door. It is then he is certain that as much as he needs Mother, Mother needs him more.
*Rainbow Palette*
Jon - 22
It is during his engagement party that he first realizes that Father owns Mother’s smile.
Tori has romanticized their parents’ love since childhood, but he has never understood the appeal of such fairytale delusions until all the guests have left and he finds them dancing on the trash laden lawn in back of Wayne Manor with only the moonlight to illuminate their steps.
Mother has always been a pillar of strength to his eyes, but finding his own love has changed his perspective and he notices how she leans into Father’s arms allowing him to support her; how she nestles herself into the curve of his shoulder as if she wishes to be cradled there; and how her feet seem to float above the ground, completely trusting Father to steer and lead. Her eyes are closed and there is a smile upon her lips that speak of total contentment.
He suddenly feels as he did all those years ago when his nightmares called her to him and she would hold him till he fell asleep again. There has always been a veil of fragility falling around Mother like invisible tears; and for most of his life, he had believed that veil to be sadness. Now, watching his parents’ love each other as they danced for the stars and moon, he comes to the conclusion that it was never the fraying gray of bittersweet sorrow but a subdued and shimmering cloak of pure happiness.
Father had given this gift to her, and she, in turn, had given Father her smile in triplicate - adorning her person with it then duplicating the expression on Tori and himself.
Before he can convince himself to stop, he has taken steps toward his parents and asks to cut in. Father studies him for several moments before grinning his knowing grin and relinquishing Mother into his arms. She watches him as she always does before breaking the silence with a grave, “Congratulations.”
It is not until she tightens her hand in his that he knows that he wants to tell her that he always knew that she feared failing him and Tori, how he had been so afraid of losing her as a child, how he always wondered about her own mother, and how he believed himself blessed and honored to be her son.
But as he opened his mouth to express all of these thoughts and more, as his chest filled with warmth and his throat clogged with tears and a million words of gratitude, all that came out was four perfect words.
“I love you, Mom.”
Enjoy!
- Kysra