Kyveli
At first, what little conscience that the purple baby has developed in her time floating in the warm space of her mother's belly, had been very much content to stay there. She, it, belonged there, this was the world, but with each passing day, she grew or, the floating space was shrinking. A few movements here, a kick there, was all her instinct, until suddenly she wasn't floating any longer, and somehow she was positioned headfirst towards the birth canal. There was no pain for the baby when her mother pushed - fluids and muscles protecting her from all those things, she had been aligned rightly, and that was that.
But it was so COLD out here! Still damp from the amniotic fluid and honestly, unaware that she would be able to move after such a long confinement, she just lay there for a while on the rock where the lavender-and-white figure of her previous world had just given life to her body, until the cold and dripping fluid made her itch into movement. Or, life - only when a nostril was cleaned, she breathed in deeply, a small cry exerting her body, an instinct old as life itself to fill the lungs with air and start the beating of the heart which would never stop until the day her life would end - in her case, this could be a very long time, although the purple baby would naturally not be aware of any of this for her first decade or so. Her mother - her world - cleaned more than just that, her tongue softly forced her eyes open, and when her mother stood shadowing over her and cleaned her further, the baby girl was happy - the cleaning made her far less cold, and made her feel loved, a feeling new to her like all the feelings, but it was definitely a keeper. Especially compared to the cold - she definitely disliked that one.
She had no words to respond to her mother's soft nicker and the name she gave her, instead cooing a yawn-like reply that would probably sound like 'maaah?' to anyone listening, her little head leaning in for contact - contact was what she'd always had with her mother, and she longed for so much more of that warm tenderness that her mother spread.
But it was so COLD out here! Still damp from the amniotic fluid and honestly, unaware that she would be able to move after such a long confinement, she just lay there for a while on the rock where the lavender-and-white figure of her previous world had just given life to her body, until the cold and dripping fluid made her itch into movement. Or, life - only when a nostril was cleaned, she breathed in deeply, a small cry exerting her body, an instinct old as life itself to fill the lungs with air and start the beating of the heart which would never stop until the day her life would end - in her case, this could be a very long time, although the purple baby would naturally not be aware of any of this for her first decade or so. Her mother - her world - cleaned more than just that, her tongue softly forced her eyes open, and when her mother stood shadowing over her and cleaned her further, the baby girl was happy - the cleaning made her far less cold, and made her feel loved, a feeling new to her like all the feelings, but it was definitely a keeper. Especially compared to the cold - she definitely disliked that one.
She had no words to respond to her mother's soft nicker and the name she gave her, instead cooing a yawn-like reply that would probably sound like 'maaah?' to anyone listening, her little head leaning in for contact - contact was what she'd always had with her mother, and she longed for so much more of that warm tenderness that her mother spread.
I only wanted to one time see you laughing
in the purple rain
in the purple rain
@[Kylin]