03-22-2020, 09:37 AM
Eurwen
the secret of walking on water
is knowing where the rocks lie
is knowing where the rocks lie
Lilli had been right, of course, and Eurwen too - the spotted mare had just needed to be forced to see it, to see Brennen and Fiorina carrying one, and see Lilliana carrying two - to fully understand. Twins.
She might have known from the start that she wouldn’t be laid off easy. Fuck me. No, that sort of thinking got her here in the first place. And that wasn’t fair to Corban either.
Eurwen hasn’t really walked far for some time now. Nowadays, it is easier to let the rocks carry her body forward; all three of them. Just how long will she have to put up with this, she’d wondered just yesterday. She’d seen Fio walk around, relatively unscathed by her son - oddly enough maybe, she’d thought them a beautiful pair.
She hasn’t seen Lilliana around much lately, but she assumes this is because she feels as weighed down as Wen herself.
Which is to say, a lot.
She carries herself down to the grey shores in the northeast, a place not many ever visit. The grey sands undoubtedly would not have carried her weight if she didn’t force the pebbles to stick together to do so as she walked towards a cave mouth. There, surrounded by only rock and salty waves, she rests, and waits, bracing for the thing to come even though she doesn’t know how to.
At the first waves, she realizes her mistake - it’s a defendable place, sure, especially for her, with all the rock around her. But if she needs medical aid, she doesn’t know if she’ll be found in time.
There is little, however, to do about it when you're birthing.
She goes with the flow, survives the hellish pains. How, she could not tell anyone afterwards. But she lives. She survives on sheer stubbornness the way she always had. This is nothing compared to dying of the Plague, she tells herself. This is life as it was meant to be.
Goddammit but it hurts.
And yet… when the second little body has passed out of her own, when the relief floods through her at their first sneezes and little sounds, she forgets it all. The spotted mare stands, cleans birth fluids, and examines her daughters. Green like their father, and pink like her. One spotted, one painted.
”Brienna,” she names the spotted girl, and ”Fechín,” the other, as she cleans them and lets them come to their senses, lets them take in the light that enters the seaside cave as it is reflected by the waves outside; lets them get used to the sound of the Nerinian wind upon the rocks before she will lead them out and show them the world.
She might have known from the start that she wouldn’t be laid off easy. Fuck me. No, that sort of thinking got her here in the first place. And that wasn’t fair to Corban either.
Eurwen hasn’t really walked far for some time now. Nowadays, it is easier to let the rocks carry her body forward; all three of them. Just how long will she have to put up with this, she’d wondered just yesterday. She’d seen Fio walk around, relatively unscathed by her son - oddly enough maybe, she’d thought them a beautiful pair.
She hasn’t seen Lilliana around much lately, but she assumes this is because she feels as weighed down as Wen herself.
Which is to say, a lot.
She carries herself down to the grey shores in the northeast, a place not many ever visit. The grey sands undoubtedly would not have carried her weight if she didn’t force the pebbles to stick together to do so as she walked towards a cave mouth. There, surrounded by only rock and salty waves, she rests, and waits, bracing for the thing to come even though she doesn’t know how to.
At the first waves, she realizes her mistake - it’s a defendable place, sure, especially for her, with all the rock around her. But if she needs medical aid, she doesn’t know if she’ll be found in time.
There is little, however, to do about it when you're birthing.
She goes with the flow, survives the hellish pains. How, she could not tell anyone afterwards. But she lives. She survives on sheer stubbornness the way she always had. This is nothing compared to dying of the Plague, she tells herself. This is life as it was meant to be.
Goddammit but it hurts.
And yet… when the second little body has passed out of her own, when the relief floods through her at their first sneezes and little sounds, she forgets it all. The spotted mare stands, cleans birth fluids, and examines her daughters. Green like their father, and pink like her. One spotted, one painted.
”Brienna,” she names the spotted girl, and ”Fechín,” the other, as she cleans them and lets them come to their senses, lets them take in the light that enters the seaside cave as it is reflected by the waves outside; lets them get used to the sound of the Nerinian wind upon the rocks before she will lead them out and show them the world.
@[Star] @[Corban] @[Oisin]
marked private because this is already 3 other players