It took Mother a whole six months before she started getting me to talk. During this time, she introduced me to various toys, took me to places, and even showed me some flashy glyph-like stuff that were probably the letters of this world?
I didn’t recognize the characters. It was not English, that was for sure though. But yeah, she more or less realized a little late that I hadn’t even attempted to speak all this time.
“Say mommy,” she’d often say.
I did not though. She’d then go on to show me stuff and say their names. She used to do that subconsciously before but now she tried way too hard. It was starting to get a little annoying at this point. Yeah, I got that a table was a table. I didn’t need to know that a table was a table ten times every day for a month straight to know that it was in fact a table.
And the more I teased her without speaking a word, the more frustrated she got. To a point where she was crying in the balcony, her head buried in her thighs, while she sat in that fetal position.
Sigh. I felt bad… “Mother,” I said. “Okay?”
For the first few seconds, she stared at me, basically dumbfounded. She just wanted to hear one word, so maybe starting off with a broken sentence wasn’t a very good idea? For the first time in my life, I was regretting never going near a baby. Fuck…I should have studied those little shits like the rest of stuff!
“Y-y-you talked!” She squealed, taking me up in her arms. She hugged me, gently swaying her body, dancing with excitement. “Say it again. Say Mommy!”
“Mother.”
“Mommy, mom. Mama!”
“Mother.”
She sniffled, and wiped her tears, along with the snot. She was still a little frustrated but did smile nevertheless.
Yeah, I wasn’t going to call her mommy. Mommy was only reserved for my favorite waifu, and no one else. Not even her.
But maybe a part of me didn’t want to call her mom, because I didn’t want to be reminded of my previous mother. I didn’t want to be reminded of Mom.
I wrapped my tiny fat hands around her, not quite reaching. She rubbed my back, and we went in.
The next day, some guests arrived. Her friends. Six of them. Four guys and two girls.
Seemed to be about the same age.
All tall eared folk. Apparently, they were called the Southerners. Because they lived in the south. This particular world didn’t have any distinction between humans and elves other than the tall ears and appearance. Humans and elves lived about the same age, 150 and basically had similar capabilities. Of course, there was still some unique talents specific to race and discrimination. But there was always discrimination regarding skin color and appearance. That was how earth worked, and that was also how this world worked.
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“This is Soleir Arnius, say hello,” mother said, showing me off.
They smiled and nodded and stuff. Weird.
Our guests did try to interact with me, and talk to me, but they weren’t really into me. They didn’t look at me like they looked at mother. ‘Her friends,’ I thought. And honestly, I was glad. She had friends. Way more than I ever did.
Now granted I was barely seventeen when I died. And mother was close to what, twenty? Maybe twenty-five. She was pretty young, but old enough to be my elder sister. I didn’t see her as a sister though. She was my mother, and was always going to be my mother.
Yet, I felt distant. Not because the people here were distant but… but because it all felt like a dream.
This loving atmosphere, this peace, all this… I’d wanted it long before I first read about portal fantasies and reincarnation stories. I’d wanted it, I’d dreamt of it, over and over again. So, now that I had it, I felt distant. I felt… like I could one day wake up from all this and be back in a hospital or something, attached to a freaking respirator, slowly waiting to die.
This world, this feeling… her warmth, were too real to be a dream. Yet, some part of me just couldn’t let go. Some part of me just couldn’t accept this.
I… couldn’t accept this.
“He’s tired again?” Den said.
“He’s a growing child,” one of the girls said. “They sleep a lot.”
“Sol doesn’t sleep a lot though,” mother said. “He stays up and just stares out the window, or sits in the backyard.”
“Maybe he’s lonely,” the girl picked me up. “I’ll bring one of my kids over, she’s about his age.”
“Um… sure,” mother seemed oddly reluctant. Was she afraid of me getting ostracized because of my race? Maybe.
“Once he gets friends, he might stop being so attached to you,” she said. “Kids grow up so fast. Before you know it, they’re stating they’d rather have an adventure out there than to stay home all the time.” She snickered.
But I honestly didn’t want friends. Things were fine as they were. I didn’t want friends, I didn’t want to grow up, I didn’t want… this to end.
I just…
Tears fell. I didn’t cry. I didn’t think or feel like crying either. Yet, the tears just refused to stop, as I held the girl tight.
“Give him to me,” mother said, taking me in her arms. I buried my face on her chest, sniffling. Trying my best not to cry. But the tears just didn’t stop. Damn this body! Mother didn’t try to wipe them away either. She just held me, swayed her body a little and patted my back.
It was comforting, her warmth. But at the same time, it was frightening. I was afraid she was going to just stop one day, when I got a little older. I was afraid she was going to leave me, once I grew up and no longer needed her. I-I- couldn’t stop the damn tears.
Damn it. Damn it all.
“Well, that’s enough for today,” Den said. “Seeya later. Oh, and we have a hunting session next month. He might come to enjoy it.”
“I’ll think about it,” Mother said.
They left, and although I did stop crying, I couldn’t smile. I couldn’t bring myself to.
“What’s wrong Sol?” she asked. She hadn’t asked that before.
“I got… scared,” I tried to sound a little babyish. “You’d leave…”
She snickered. “I won’t leave you. I’ll never leave you. In fact, once I die, I’ll haunt you!”
I feigned a shock expression, before chuckling. Yeah, she didn’t quite ease my mind with that. But honestly… yeah, I didn’t want her to leave me. “Don’t die though.”