she'll lie and steal and cheat and beg you from her knees
make you thinks she means it this time
The days grow long and her stomach continues to grow.
She grows heavy with child, heavy with anticipation, heavy with worry. It is an odd feeling for someone who has always sought to live life as light and free as possible. She cannot run now, and she grows anxious with it, sleeping for longer and spending hours staring out into the horizon, wondering at what will come with the next chapter of her life. She loves Daemron. She knows that she does. But that does not always quell the fear that rises within her like smoke, insidious and speaking to a larger danger.
The fear morphs this morning though, the land touched with fog and ash. She can feel the changes in her body, the way that it begins to hurt in new ways, the movement beginning to pulse in her.
It is time.
She wishes she was more serene. She wishes that she could greet this with a calmness of a mother, but she feels panic grip her and it takes all of her strength to swallow it back.
She is not ready, she thinks.
It is not the right time.
But it is too late to change any of that.
She calls for Daemron and her voice is touched with that fear, the pain that now begins to move through her, but the call is cut short with a groan that rises in her throat. The next hours pass in a blur. It is not an easy birth, and she struggles through it, biting back anger and pain and panic and closing her eyes as she fights through the waves of it. Relief sweeps through her when the first child finally hits the ground, but it is quickly followed by further panic when her body does not stop, the fullness not yet emptied.
She looks to Daemron, wild in her eyes, before the next wave hits her.
She struggles more on the second birth, bringing that little girl into the world, and she cries out when it is over, when Wonder finally slips free. Pyxis takes a shuddering breath, extending her neck and laying her cheek against the ground. Her body is damp with exhaustion, muscles weak, and there is a selfish part of her that almost gives into the darkness of sleep that curls around the edges of her mind.
But even she is not that selfish and she digs deep for the strength to rise. She trembles as she moves to her child—no, her children—and begins to clean them. They are beautiful, she thinks. Red as flame and wild and her heart beats faster in her chest as she looks at them both curled on the ground.
“Daemron,” she whispers, her voice husky and thick with emotion. “We’re a family now.”
If only she could determine whether it was terror or joy that floods her.
she'll tear a hole in you, the one you can't repair
but I still love her, I don't really care
@[Lydia] @[jenger]