[ Eat properly. Right, sure. Copia wanted to know what that meant to his mother, at any age. Did she even eat, herself? They so rarely had family dinners (thank Lucifer) and, even then, it always seemed like she preferred to watch everyone else clear their plates. Maybe that was just the leftover pervasive feeling from his childhood, that she got all the sustenance she needed from bathing in the blood of her enemies.
(Maybe not the healthiest course of action either, he could argue, if she should choose to press further and find out about the box of cold pizza sitting on his bed or the literal beer cave the Ghouls created in the more-often-than-not empty crypt where his brothers' bodies barely rested.)
Would she take back all the tenderness, the hug, the gentility in her voice and touch, if she knew that he was more or less a bit of a mess, sometimes? ]
Oh, yeah, you know me. [ Or. Well, she would. He gave an awkward thumbs up. ] Stretching, cycling. Getting my steps in.
[ While the blood of her enemies was definitely on the menu, she also got sustenance from seeing the fruit of her womb devour his favorite Chinese takeout. Sister Imperator had had her share of revelries as a younger Sister of Sin - rituals dedicated to gluttony, with delicacies of rare and questionable origin all spread out for their consumption. None of it compared to the satisfaction of seeing her son inhale his fried rice and sweet and sour pork.
If he was a mess - first, could she blame him, when his father was Nihil? And second, that simply meant Copia needed her looking out for him, and it was a welcome need. ]
Are you playing any sports? Soccer is good for endurance - something you'll need for your concerts.
[ Boy, he was just going to disappoint her, all around, wasn't he? Maybe the new hobby she seemed to take up during last year's tour wasn't such a new thing after all.
If it had been, he couldn't blame her. The Pre-ImperaTour came after two years of relative confinement, a time during which she kept him close so he could learn the tricks of the trade (and a few of hers) and, as he sometimes guessed, because she was lonely without his father. So of course she was bound to get a little empty-nester crazy as soon as she lost all her company to the road again. A new activity never hurt anyone.
Until it did, colliding with your head.
He rubbed at the spot of phantom pain, just above his brow. ] Eh, no. I do what I can to avoid balls to the face. [ Those kinds of balls anyway. HOO, though, not a thought to share with Mama. This one, anyway. She'd find that out, probably, a little further on down the road. ] I think you will find that you're better off putting, ah... [ Sheepishly, he pointed at her stomach. ] ...that one in dance.
[ Sister Imperator did have a concept of fun, in theory, and so she could say she did have hobbies. One was terrorizing the Ghouls, and the other was punting a soccer ball into a gaggle of them and watching them go absolutely batshit crazy. She wasn't all work and no play - she did schedule spontaneity into her calendar sometimes.
She was also not shy talking about balls of any sort. ] Do you now? [ She'd been in enough lust rituals to know that it was inevitable that one would have balls hit a person in the face at some point, but she decided to save talking to Copia about balls - specifically Papa Nihil's - for later. ]
Excellent. Ballet, jazz, ballroom, tap - you can learn it all. The world's your stage, my little C, and you'll be ready for it. As you are today.
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no subject
(Maybe not the healthiest course of action either, he could argue, if she should choose to press further and find out about the box of cold pizza sitting on his bed or the literal beer cave the Ghouls created in the more-often-than-not empty crypt where his brothers' bodies barely rested.)
Would she take back all the tenderness, the hug, the gentility in her voice and touch, if she knew that he was more or less a bit of a mess, sometimes? ]
Oh, yeah, you know me. [ Or. Well, she would. He gave an awkward thumbs up. ] Stretching, cycling. Getting my steps in.
no subject
If he was a mess - first, could she blame him, when his father was Nihil? And second, that simply meant Copia needed her looking out for him, and it was a welcome need. ]
Are you playing any sports? Soccer is good for endurance - something you'll need for your concerts.
no subject
If it had been, he couldn't blame her. The Pre-ImperaTour came after two years of relative confinement, a time during which she kept him close so he could learn the tricks of the trade (and a few of hers) and, as he sometimes guessed, because she was lonely without his father. So of course she was bound to get a little empty-nester crazy as soon as she lost all her company to the road again. A new activity never hurt anyone.
Until it did, colliding with your head.
He rubbed at the spot of phantom pain, just above his brow. ] Eh, no. I do what I can to avoid balls to the face. [ Those kinds of balls anyway. HOO, though, not a thought to share with Mama. This one, anyway. She'd find that out, probably, a little further on down the road. ] I think you will find that you're better off putting, ah... [ Sheepishly, he pointed at her stomach. ] ...that one in dance.
no subject
She was also not shy talking about balls of any sort. ] Do you now? [ She'd been in enough lust rituals to know that it was inevitable that one would have balls hit a person in the face at some point, but she decided to save talking to Copia about balls - specifically Papa Nihil's - for later. ]
Excellent. Ballet, jazz, ballroom, tap - you can learn it all. The world's your stage, my little C, and you'll be ready for it. As you are today.