[For some moments Kratos stares uncomprehendingly, but Lloyd pushes himself upright, not even ashamed of being called out for having not been asleep in the first place. If anything, Uncle's wrong to assume he was pretending at all; but that isn't even important either. (Though Lloyd will remember that, later.)
[There's a lump in his throat and his vision is blurry, but Lloyd's hands hover before falling to grip his father's. Sometimes he needs things spelled out for him. This time is not one of them.]
I'm-- Dad. You thought I was -- they told you I was --?
[Slowly this sinks in. Slowly, Kratos manages to equate the worried, distraught face before him with the plump young face of the toddler he last remembers. The mana signature and the hands on his tells him that it can't be a trick. Kratos pushes himself upright without consciously intending it, his other hand trembling as he extends it without quite touching Lloyd's face, like he's afraid Lloyd will shatter if he touches him. For the first time, he takes the smallest breath only to speak.]
Lloyd ...?
[This is whispered, tremulous, heart-wrenchingly raw; there's fear there, and disbelief, and above all a dawning hope, not quite rising to fullness in case this is all going to be snatched away in a moment.]
Yeah. Yeah, I'm Lloyd. I'm -- your son.
[Lloyd's voice is husky too, and he brings up a hand to pull Dad's closer, so it cups his face, so Dad knows it's okay, because Lloyd isn't going anywhere. And he grins, through the tears, his infectious grin that makes Kratos's breath catch. He has to breathe, now, because he can't properly weep without breathing; and his emotions are too strong to do anything else.
[He can't find any other words; so instead he pulls Lloyd to him and embraces him tightly, like this is the only chance he might get to hug his son. He's alive. He's alive he's alive he's alive he's alive ...
[Lloyd, unresisting, hugs Kratos back, his breath catching at the sensation of emotions not his, but rolling across him as a painful kind of wonder.]
no subject
[There's a lump in his throat and his vision is blurry, but Lloyd's hands hover before falling to grip his father's. Sometimes he needs things spelled out for him. This time is not one of them.]
I'm-- Dad. You thought I was -- they told you I was --?
[Slowly this sinks in. Slowly, Kratos manages to equate the worried, distraught face before him with the plump young face of the toddler he last remembers. The mana signature and the hands on his tells him that it can't be a trick. Kratos pushes himself upright without consciously intending it, his other hand trembling as he extends it without quite touching Lloyd's face, like he's afraid Lloyd will shatter if he touches him. For the first time, he takes the smallest breath only to speak.]
Lloyd ...?
[This is whispered, tremulous, heart-wrenchingly raw; there's fear there, and disbelief, and above all a dawning hope, not quite rising to fullness in case this is all going to be snatched away in a moment.]
Yeah. Yeah, I'm Lloyd. I'm -- your son.
[Lloyd's voice is husky too, and he brings up a hand to pull Dad's closer, so it cups his face, so Dad knows it's okay, because Lloyd isn't going anywhere. And he grins, through the tears, his infectious grin that makes Kratos's breath catch. He has to breathe, now, because he can't properly weep without breathing; and his emotions are too strong to do anything else.
[He can't find any other words; so instead he pulls Lloyd to him and embraces him tightly, like this is the only chance he might get to hug his son. He's alive. He's alive he's alive he's alive he's alive ...
[Lloyd, unresisting, hugs Kratos back, his breath catching at the sensation of emotions not his, but rolling across him as a painful kind of wonder.]