peel away the layers till you're nothing and no one; potion

[Kirke]

peel away the layers till you're nothing and no one

Jesus she’s gotten fat. 

Kirke grumbles to herself as she wobbles gingerly into the meadow. Despite being only a few months into pregnancy, her belly has inflated like a balloon, rapidly growing to twice the size she’d been with her previous two. It’s rather uncomfortable to say the least. Her skin feels tight, stretched, and unbearable sensitive. And her ankles are painfully swollen. It’s making her worry about the coming months - if she’s already this large and in this much discomfort, what on earth is she going to look like come spring? 

She stops by the side of a spindly oak, leaning against it’s lumpy bark with a heavy sigh. It’d been a tiny fling, a one night stand. Just a night of trying to forget … well … everything (her mood sours further at that thought, and she does her best to steer her mind away from the memories). And thanks to it, she’s stuck with a hell of a lot of pain. There’s a niggling suspicion in the back of her mind too … her mother had once mentioned twins running in the family, and she’d had a set of twins herself … 

Ugh. She doesn’t want to think about it. She’ll find out soon enough anyway. 

At least the fling has had it’s intended affect, though not in the way she’d wanted. She’s out of her funk, at least temporarily. Focusing on her physical pain has been a wonder for keeping her mental anguish at bay. 

For the moment she tries to relax, leaning deeper into the tree and letting her brown eyes roam aimlessly about the surrounding meadow. There are a few horses about, but no one that she recognizes. She likes it that way anyway. She doesn’t want to run into anyone from her past. For a moment she closes her eyes and leans her head against the bark as well, letting the dark, earthy scent permeate her nostrils. Maybe everything will be alright. Maybe. 

kirke

@[Potion]

She's strangely cheerier than I expected. I daresay that won't last for long.

[Potion|Ecco]

It is quiet here, she thinks as she traverses the cover of Forest until it opens up into the Meadow. Perhaps she was just too used to the ruckus of the Cove, there were always so many of them after Father took the lead. The air was forever permeated with sex, even when the mares weren’t in season- Father had his way regardless. Mother never complained and Potion had grown so used to the scent it became lost in the salty air. Well, that, and it’s never too quiet anywhere the sea meets the earth, the waves crashing into the cliffs a familiar lullaby. The gulls overhead squalling, the seals barking as they were chased, blubbery bodies retreating into the water as her siblings laughed.

The good old days.

The Mountain had sucked too much from them, making them stoic and watchful. Oh they had ever been watchful but it was the quiet in their eyes that was haunting now.

She’s not used to leaving Ecco but the girl demands tirelessly now that she is heavy with child. Can she be blamed? Potion had known that desperation once, somewhere in the darkness of the Valley among the shadows. Now everything is solitary and pleasant, almost too pleasant and somehow Father must have known that. He had been too eager for them to return to the lands, to remake their place among the people somewhere they could look down on all those worthy of their pastel gaze.

It is because she is watchful that they grey mare spots an all too familiar silhouette against the bark of a spindly tree. Her vibrant wings remarkable and unmistakable (aww too bad Kirke) and it is without caution that she meanders her way forward, curling around the other side of the trunk to face the woman. “Kirke, she breathes with a sly smile, her lavender eyes finding her sister’s swollen stomach in moments.

POTION

[..we ain't never gettin' older..]

[Kirke]

peel away the layers till you're nothing and no one

Her mind drifts, thoughts focusing on nothing but what her senses can detect. Her skin shivers as a cool breeze rustles through her thin coat, her ears perk as a bird trills in the branches overhead, and her nostrils quiver as the sweet scent of the grass beneath her feet wafts upwards. It’s peaceful, and for a moment she can pretend that there’s a possibility of a positive future for her.

Until the sound of approaching hooves brings her back to earth.

Brown eyes flick open, and her breath catches when she realizes who exactly is standing in front of her.

Potion.

The memories she’s been fighting off for the laws few months start battering at her door. The Cove, their Father, her mother …

“Potion.” Bile rises in her throat. Favoured of Khaos … Father’s favourite. Always the favourite. Incestuous product of Khaos’ two favourite children.

God, the Cove. Part of her wonders how she never noticed how twisted the place had been … but how could she have known? She’d been raised to it.

It still doesn’t stop her from feeling guilty for …

She forces that thought back. She can’t bear to think of it now, not with Potion’s calculating eyes staring her down.

She notices the way that Potion’s gaze lingers on her overripe belly, and the corners of her lips quirk in a grimace. It would be her luck - the first time she runs into her perfect sister in years, she’s as fat and round as a melon. She tucks her purple wings closer in to her sides, wrapping them protectively about her belly. “How are you doing these days?” She doesn’t really want to know. But it seems the thing to say after all.

kirke

[Potion|Ecco]

It was so, round. Her lavender gaze settled heavily on the swollen burden her sister was carrying. She looked like she could burst, a mare was not meant to carry so much and yet somehow, Kirke was still managing to stand up. Well, sort of, Potion took in account the tree that was being leaned against. “My, my, you are in a mess. Congratulations I suppose?” She supposed because she wasn’t too sure if this was a happy sort of accident or one thrust upon her sister instead. With their Father out of the equation there was simply no telling, Potion had never been extremely close with her siblings but she had been fond of a few and Kirke was one of them.

A fondness, that at first, was an admiration. You see, Kirke could fly whereas Potion could not. As a child she often wondered what it would be like to soar in the clouds with her Father, had often wished she would sprout wings so she could do so. Yet that never did happen and as she aged (naturally) she made peace with the fact she would only be able to enjoy watching them soar in loops above her.

The thought brought back memories. Salt spray on her face, games of hide and seek. Races against the shore line before tumbling into the wet sand. Baths, oh the baths. She laughed out loud at the memory. “How many baths do you think we had as children Kirke? It’s a wonder that any of us have any fur left. Ah but cleanliness is next to Godliness,” she mimicked Kirin.

“I’ve been well yes, missing pieces for a time but no matter, I am whole now,” she seemed to wave away the information as if it were a fly. “Are you Kirke, well I mean?” She flicked her tail against her hocks before shifting her weight around, taking in the Meadow while she waited to hear news of her sister’s recent well-being.

POTION

[..we ain't never gettin' older..]

[Kirke]

peel away the layers till you're nothing and no one

Potion’s gaze still lingers, and Kirke can’t help but wonder what thoughts are going through her sister’s mind. Is she wondering if the child within will be worthy of Khaos’ line? Or is she lamenting the fact that Kirke’s child will never grow up as part of the Family?

Once upon a time she herself would have been devastated by the destruction of the cove. The Family had been everything to her, her lifeblood, the meaning for her existence. But then she had travelled to Illea … and the extent to which her life had been tainted had been revealed to her.

Part of her still hates the faeries for taking her there. If they hadn’t, she could still be living in denial. She could still be happy. Well, happier. But Illea and Francis had removed her blindfold, had forced her to look more closely at herself and her family than she ever had before.

It’s better that the Cove is gone. Though a tiny, tiny part of her that she tries to quash still misses it. She hasn’t missed potion though.

Her lips tighten at her sister’s comment. “Thanks?” She knows well enough what she looks like. She doesn’t need reminders.

Her expression softens however, when Potion reminds her of the many baths they’d had together on the Cove’s sandy shores. “Far, far too many!” She’d always been jealous of Potion, had envied the girl her abilities and their father’s favour, but there had been a time where they’d gotten along rather well. Where they, dare she say it, had been friends.

When had that ended?

She smiles in spite of herself. “I know how that is.” She stretches her wings, displaying the now boring (well, in comparison) purple feathers. Hopefully her vibrant colours and her dark horns will be returned to her sometime soon. “Tired, I must admit.” Her damn belly is dragging her down. “But well enough.” There is more that crosses her mind, more that she could say, but she chooses not to say it. A gulf has opened between them, and while Kirke does not truly hate her sister (no matter how much the perfect lavender girl frustrates her), they will never be as close as they once were.

kirke

Will try to get the birthing post up later tonight too.