i'm a geyser, feel it bubbling from below
hear it call, hear it call, hear it call to me, constantly

In her solitude she sits, melancholy and sick, missing the home her mother made for her. Brunhilde’s pregnancy takes its toll on her. It steals all of her energy, her will to eat, her fierce nature. Most days she remains holed up in a cave in Hyaline, hoping the boys or her father will not wander too close.

Guilt wells in her throat as she passes into the Loessian border, somber gemstone eyes dull. She knows she should visit her father; perhaps he will be more understanding than angry, though her doubt is what keeps her away. Yes, she thinks, it is best he does not know. She is a favorite of her parents’, she knows this; even still, she is aware only her mother must know. Her father will crumble beneath his guilt and his fury. He will go to the ends of the earth to destroy any that have hurt his beloved.

No, she must carry this herself. She cannot run to him like before.

God, I miss his hugs.

The roundness of her belly is barely visible beneath her scruffy winter coat and her hungry stomach. She sighs when she turns to peer at her protruding ribs, only now noticing how her oxygen becomes visible when she exhales. Her body falls into shivers then, and she blinks as she realizes her hooves are in snow.

“God damn it,” she murmurs, then starts, raising her head to find the source of a noise just ahead of her.

and hear the harmony only when it's harming me
it's not real, it's not real, it's not real enough