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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    [open]  What dreams may come [birthing]
    #1
    She doesn’t play by their rules, or exist as they exist. The chill of winter does not still her heart, it doesn’t freeze her core and if it did, she doesnt seem to notice- she is always still and cold. He had made her that way, taken her from as a young, gentle girl and made her into something else. He was always remaking things and with time she found she needed that, he was consistency in her otherwise bleak world. She cared about so very little now and yet she did not dismiss him as she did most every other thing. The dark God had done a number on her and he had done it well, centuries of perfecting his skill had made it so.

    What she feels now is not the bite of the freezing air, it is weight. Her middle is so very heavy, a terrible strain on her tender frame, she is much too little to carry so much. Yet somehow she did, all winter long she carried them, her barrel slowly expanding day after day- too quickly, much too quickly. In her mind she thought twins, two small things would soon leave her and then she would double her loss. She never managed to keep up with them for long, they wandered off or she did and she wasn’t too concerned on tracking them down.

    Today she trembles, her body aches, sides splitting along the length of her body and she knows that soon they will come. After so many times of doing this you would think it would be easy but it never was, no two times were alike and perhaps she was alone in that curse. She practically crawls to a thicket, hiding away within its leafy walls, panting with each wobbling step. It is hours before they come, most of the day passes as she yells in her thorny palace, straining to be rid of their pain. When they come she is spent, eyes bleary with blurred vision as she counts them. One, two, three. That explains it and she curses them, glaring at the little blobs of mess before licking them clean. She could do that much before she would need to rest.
    a colorless existence, never tasting life's delirium


    note: since she is having triplets i figured they wouldn't carry to term- so they are a bit early
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    Messages In This Thread
    What dreams may come [birthing] - by Bly - 01-15-2017, 12:18 PM



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