[ it’s a bittersweet feeling that finds him in the aftermath. saving the pup from the jaws of death? an adrenaline high that had his heart pumping and body moving with a panic induced focus so strong that, quite honestly, most of the rescue is a blur at this point. victory tasted sweet ( literally, with the éclair he managed to keep clamped between his lips throughout the splashing water and writhing mass ) but after the outpouring of gratitude and the news spot, that sweetness tainted with bitterness.
he’s forgotten what it feels like to be a paladin.
most days he doesn’t think about it. he doesn’t even realize he isn’t thinking about it. voltron used to be at the forefront of his mind, the concept of going back a necessity to carry him through every day spent away. inevitably, he made peace with existing here but even then, he’d kept to the idea that eventually, realities would right themselves and he’d be brought back to his own. now, however…
he neither wants to go back, nor feels obligated to.
today’s felt different though. it’s coming back. the stakes were much smaller, true. not that a puppy’s life is insignificant but compared to saving planets and freeing entire civilizations from slavery or death, one pup and one alligator are significantly less daunting. still – he saved a living creature. all this time as a gembonded guardian and this is the first time he felt even remotely close to his previous calling. that’s why he chose this career to begin with. writing tickets, chasing down hotrod speeders, and playing mediator to public disturbances or domestic disputes doesn’t quite hit the same note though.
the few times that sumarlok has gone to absolute hell, shiro’s abandoned his station and invested all of his attention on keith. the babies. their family.
… and maybe that’s okay. maybe it’s okay that his focus has significantly narrowed and that he isn’t the universe’s protector any longer. he has different responsibilities and they’re good responsibilities to have.
he has to admit though, that it felt rejuvenating to throw himself into the fray, especially in an act not so foreign to him. it’s been a good while since that, too. he’d usually done it in a swimming pool and he’d been significantly smaller both in height and build, but even without a metal hand to take the brunt of snapping jaws, shiro’s alligator wrestling skills had been just as impressive at ten.
so this is how he’s spending the rest of his morning: sitting on a park bench, uniform damp and chaffing, reminiscing about the callings of his youth.
maybe keith’s right. maybe he is an old-timer.
it’s not that exact moment that his phone pings. nah. the news spot was shot sometime earlier, so when his pocket vibrates, shiro is well into his third éclair, pink box open on his lap. fishing it out with one hand and then, upon seeing it’s a notification from keith🍑, shiro gets both hands on it, leaving the éclair to dangle from his mouth.
tap, tap, tap – ]
Strange model?
[ that’s where his mind goes first: keith’s art class. ]
text;
he’s forgotten what it feels like to be a paladin.
most days he doesn’t think about it. he doesn’t even realize he isn’t thinking about it. voltron used to be at the forefront of his mind, the concept of going back a necessity to carry him through every day spent away. inevitably, he made peace with existing here but even then, he’d kept to the idea that eventually, realities would right themselves and he’d be brought back to his own. now, however…
he neither wants to go back, nor feels obligated to.
today’s felt different though. it’s coming back. the stakes were much smaller, true. not that a puppy’s life is insignificant but compared to saving planets and freeing entire civilizations from slavery or death, one pup and one alligator are significantly less daunting. still – he saved a living creature. all this time as a gembonded guardian and this is the first time he felt even remotely close to his previous calling. that’s why he chose this career to begin with. writing tickets, chasing down hotrod speeders, and playing mediator to public disturbances or domestic disputes doesn’t quite hit the same note though.
the few times that sumarlok has gone to absolute hell, shiro’s abandoned his station and invested all of his attention on keith. the babies. their family.
… and maybe that’s okay. maybe it’s okay that his focus has significantly narrowed and that he isn’t the universe’s protector any longer. he has different responsibilities and they’re good responsibilities to have.
he has to admit though, that it felt rejuvenating to throw himself into the fray, especially in an act not so foreign to him. it’s been a good while since that, too. he’d usually done it in a swimming pool and he’d been significantly smaller both in height and build, but even without a metal hand to take the brunt of snapping jaws, shiro’s alligator wrestling skills had been just as impressive at ten.
so this is how he’s spending the rest of his morning: sitting on a park bench, uniform damp and chaffing, reminiscing about the callings of his youth.
maybe keith’s right. maybe he is an old-timer.
it’s not that exact moment that his phone pings. nah. the news spot was shot sometime earlier, so when his pocket vibrates, shiro is well into his third éclair, pink box open on his lap. fishing it out with one hand and then, upon seeing it’s a notification from keith🍑, shiro gets both hands on it, leaving the éclair to dangle from his mouth.
tap, tap, tap – ]
Strange model?
[ that’s where his mind goes first: keith’s art class. ]