[Fela watches as the dirt shifts, as it twines together, as it expands, as it grows and changes, becoming fuller and denser, taking on new characteristics. Fela almost wishes she had been so meticulous in creating the house, but her moment of creation had been a whirlwind of excitement and desire, the sparking of a desire she'd never known she'd had until opportunity was in front of her.
The architecture of the de Luca home is noticeably different from the simple square shapes of Fela's imagination, but there is something incredibly charming about the little wooden structure settled onto the end of it. Like a little birdhouse, and Fela is already smiling by the time Mahalia turns to look at her and to take her inside.
It is difficult to know where to look in Mahalia's new bedroom. Everything inside of it is novel to Fela, taken from a world away. She thinks that bed is almost too overflowing with pillows to be slept in, she wonders what is written in the books on the desk, and before she can think too much about the wall of faces, Mahalia has chosen one to bring to her.
This is Acacio, our father.
Of course Mahalia wouldn't lie to her about such a thing, but Fela couldn't have doubted it besides, because she sees her face in her father's: the set of his mouth, and his eyes. His eyes are incredibly gentle.
A pink color spreads swiftly across Fela's cheeks and her nose. She always cries. Whether its a picture or with Acacio there to see her, she always cries, knowing she belongs to him and has been apart for a long time.]
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The architecture of the de Luca home is noticeably different from the simple square shapes of Fela's imagination, but there is something incredibly charming about the little wooden structure settled onto the end of it. Like a little birdhouse, and Fela is already smiling by the time Mahalia turns to look at her and to take her inside.
It is difficult to know where to look in Mahalia's new bedroom. Everything inside of it is novel to Fela, taken from a world away. She thinks that bed is almost too overflowing with pillows to be slept in, she wonders what is written in the books on the desk, and before she can think too much about the wall of faces, Mahalia has chosen one to bring to her.
This is Acacio, our father.
Of course Mahalia wouldn't lie to her about such a thing, but Fela couldn't have doubted it besides, because she sees her face in her father's: the set of his mouth, and his eyes. His eyes are incredibly gentle.
A pink color spreads swiftly across Fela's cheeks and her nose. She always cries. Whether its a picture or with Acacio there to see her, she always cries, knowing she belongs to him and has been apart for a long time.]