InsaneJournal

Familiar. Comforting. Home.
Who: Mason, Carol, and Thanatos
What: Death. Parents.
When: June 7
Where: Mason's Mother's Home - her bedroom
Warnings: death, spirits, absent father's
Completion Status: Complete



Mason had spent the past few days keeping vigil at his mother's side. He had wiped the spittle from the corner of her mouth, watching her chest rise and fall with each breath, until it stopped. Even though he had been expecting it for days, her death still took him by surprise. His sobs came instantly, his heavy head falling into his cupped hands. The only person he had in this world was gone. She would never meet the grandchildren he might one day have.
A soft pop broke the silence, and Mason felt the ether around him shift, expanding to allow something, or more accurately, someone through. His head snapped up, hope flaring in his chest. Maybe, just maybe, he’d get to see his mother one last time. Maybe this stupid fucking gift was good for something after all.

But instead, he was met by a man who looked no older than he was. Silver hair slicked back into a pompadour, dressed in a silver-blue suit, complete with a matching cloak that flowed elegantly around his slender frame.

They stared at each other. Mason had seen this man once before, in an old photograph his mother had tucked away in a drawer beneath a pile of socks. It was his father, though the man standing before him didn’t look as though he had aged a day since that picture was taken.

While his mother had withered away beside him, this man looked untouched by time. He heard Gael’s voice echo in his mind, wondering if Mason might be the son of a god of some sort. It seemed Gael had been right. Wouldn't his boyfriend find that amusing? The smallest spark of amusement withered under the weight of the grief raging through him. How dare he come now and say it's on time.

“What are you?” Mason spat, the words sharp and bitter. He didn’t rise from his seat beside his mother. Elbows coming to rest on his knees. “You’re too late.” His tone, and the disgust curling his lip, left no room for misinterpretation. He knew this was his father, and he wanted nothing to do with him. Why hadn't he aged? What could he do? Could he have saved her? Had he known? There were too many questions and far too much anger, Mason couldn't find his words.

A soft sigh slipped from the stranger’s full lips, sorrow weighing down his gaze as he looked at his
grieving son. Thanatos could feel the grief, rage, and loss rolling off Mason in thick, heavy waves.

“I’m exactly on time,” Thanatos said quietly.

Mason. What a ridiculous name his mother had given him. Not that Thanatos had any say in the matter. She had pulled away the moment she found out she was pregnant, shutting him out of their child’s life completely. Carol had only reached out once in all those years to beg him to take back the powers their son had inherited. When he told her such things were impossible, even for gods, she had cut him off entirely. She had kept them apart, getting only the best warding spells. It had taken him nearly twenty years to finally track them down in the cozy little village. Where their son was grieving her death, and Carol's spirit was ready to move on. This wasn’t the time or the place to talk to him about all of this.

Especially when the woman who had gotten help from every witch in the county to keep them apart, came to join them. At least, her spirit did.

Mason’s heart clenched as his mother’s spirit appeared before him, and a choked sob escaped his lips. He rose from his chair without hesitation, reaching towards her as if to comfort her. They barely raised halfway, before his hands fell away. He couldn’t touch spirits, he knew that. He'd known that since he was on the playground and couldn't clap hands with the little boy with the blue lips under the slide.

“Mom.” Just one word was uttered, cracked, broken, and full of sorrow, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room.

The pain in the room was suffocating. “We’ll talk later,” Thanatos said softly. “For now… say your goodbyes.” There wasn't much that he could do for his son, but there was one thing he could give him.

He reached out, taking both Mason’s and Carol’s hands, and brought them together. Allowing them one last goodbye.

Mason didn’t hesitate the moment he felt her chilled hand in his, he wrapped his arms around her. His sob broke the air, a choked noise as Mason gasped for air. It didn’t feel like her, and yet he could smell her perfume. The soft scents of jasmine and sandalwood clinging to the air.

Familiar. Comforting. Home.