S C I E N T I S T

   She stared for a long moment, was Becca a child again? It felt as though time reversed being given such advice. Not even Pip was insight to hear it as well, it made her wonder if it was just her who was going to hear it. Perhaps stepping too far with her taste in adventures, it seemed so harmless. Yet, not being a child anymore could only lead to trouble with it. Her mind continued to twist with ideas. Some little hairs on her neck seemed to stand up as she put on her usual façade, offering the smile towards the older male. 

    “I know poppa, I would never.” Not unless she needed too, history goes to show sometimes you need to do what you have to, to protect those you love.

       Was he not the living proof that sometimes one had to? His own father came to mind, just for a moment, and he felt selfish for even uttering the words - but he wanted to be there for her, help her. He had never thought himself a great father, despite Diana's insistence. He had always thought his advice and guideance sounded clunky, and never heartfelt, even if he meant every word. With a small sigh, a weary smile appeared on his face, and he sat down in the chair next to her.

The grey that had found itself into his hair was courtesy of Diana, of course, not of age, and yet ut had changed him.

"Marcus speaks fondly of you," the man told her, but there was a question hidden in the words, something deeper that she couldn't quite unearth. She had met him only once before, but then they had not spoken, and he was like one of the paintings she knew so well - a whole on the surface, but fractured underneath. Layer upon layer of hidden worlds and lifetimes. He might look charming, yes, but Phoebe could feel it in her bones: this man was a dangerous creature.

     ❝   It is for you, pappa !   ❞      Becca wasn’t going to allow Matthew to sit down before he had taken a   𝐏 𝐑 𝐎 𝐏 𝐄 𝐑   look at the small gift she had crafted him with Diana’s help. Or well, Diana had done most of the work and, for this once, had allowed the twins to boss her around. At least they had been   𝐄 𝐗 𝐂 𝐈 𝐓 𝐄 𝐃   about their father’s birthday. Matthew could blame Ysabeau for reminding them.

     ❝   Come here you two-   ❞     Diana groaned, lifting Philip before he would   𝐂 𝐋 𝐈 𝐌 𝐁   on the back of the sofa and make an attempt to battle his sister in an attempt to get his father’s attention.     ❝   Why not let papa sit down first before you can show him what you made him, hm ?   ❞

     A quick, apologetic smile was   𝐂 𝐀 𝐒 𝐓   in her husband’s direction.

They were little balls of energy, but how could they not be? Diana, herself, was a ball of fire and that was partly why he loved her. He could not find it in himself to be annoyed with her or the children, and he loved the way they clambered over him and his wife. He fell down upon the couch, unbuttoning his suit jacket and raising his eyebrows at the twins.

     Every inch of the room painted. Colours making her feel like she was suffocating almost- but at the same time as if she was watching a   𝐁 𝐑 𝐄 𝐀 𝐓 𝐇 𝐓 𝐀 𝐊 𝐈 𝐍 𝐆   sunrise. When they had first met Jack it had already been obvious his skills with a brush would one day be unmatched   &   this only proved as much. Jack’s thoughts   &   his feeling were painted on walls   &   ceiling. Perhaps the only true way he could visualise the   𝐇 𝐎 𝐑 𝐑 𝐎 𝐑   that followed him around.

     ❝   &   you can not continue to   𝐁 𝐋 𝐀 𝐌 𝐄   yourself, Matthew.   ❞     Her hand sought for his, a hopefully encouraging squeeze given. Jack carried his blood   &   curse- a curse no one deserved. Yet, whenever he was with them, playing with the twins, running through the house like the little boy they had met back in London. Jack was their   𝐅 𝐈 𝐑 𝐒 𝐓   son, in a way   &   his smile meant more to Diana than she could put into words.     ❝  When he comes back talk to him, please ? He needs his father with him.   ❞

Did he blame himself? Perhaps he did, and despite that feeling he let his fingers wrap around hers, feeling the comforting and well-known warmth he had grown accustomed to over the course of the years. His witch, his Diana, his Goddess of the hunt. And hunt him she had. Hunt and caught.

Even now he heard the wisdom in her words, because she was right. He could not remain the dark shadow he had been for so long. Jack needed him as much as he needed his children, and his behaviour wasn't fair, as it so often did. Jack, oh, Jack, his child in blood - their child in heart.