03-15-2016, 09:18 PM
oh, where do we begin? the rubble or our sins?
For whatever reason, her child is late; Yael has her own fears, ones she hasn’t mentioned to her lover, or even given breath. That would make them legitimate. That would make her culpable.
She is, of course. Horse and dragon and mist all carried him in her womb, foolishly shifting with nary a thought to their precious cargo. She’s checked in, of course, in a way that very few of them can. Long before their son can hear or smell anything of the outside world, he hears her voice. His heart is fine, his body like the rest of their children - taking the midline between mother and father. His mind responds quickly to her nudges. He seems fine. And yet his tardiness is worrisome, and the little mother frets around the kingdom, wobbling here and there with a belly the size of one of Vanquish’s haunches.
Until he finally comes, and the adage better late than never is all too true.
Holed up in the red rocks at the edge of the kingdom, Yael nudges her black-and-silver son (a different sort of melding than Kitra, but he is equally half her, and half Van) up to his wobbly legs, whispering sweet words of encouragement. He acknowledges them and turns to suckle, but is strangely quiet. She frowns. Hiding behind pursed lips, she mentally reaches out to her dragon and confesses what she has feared all along, Darleeng, I t’ink… I t’ink xe cannot speak. She stifles a cry in both voices, while guilt and then anger and hatred wash over her in a torrent of emotions. They would pay for this.
Luckily, Qatar takes no notice.
And this… this could be remedied. She’d given friends to Munroe, she could give a companion to Qatar. Someone who would speak for him, a bird - no, that doesn’t seem right. A cat, or desert dog of some sort? The magician reaches out to the desert creatures of the rocks, of the land before the sands, and finds a caracal that has also recently given birth. Poor thing had four kittens - she would never miss one. Quietly and quickly, snatches the sleeping kitten from its mother’s den and tinkers a little bit with its head, opening it to a telepathic bond with her son and the ability to speak to horses. When Qatar has had his fill, he stumbles away and falls into the milk-coma, allowing Yael to place the kitten at his side, and let the bonding begin.
She would have no trouble talking to her son, but one day his world would stretch far beyond her. He would need someone to talk for him.
She is, of course. Horse and dragon and mist all carried him in her womb, foolishly shifting with nary a thought to their precious cargo. She’s checked in, of course, in a way that very few of them can. Long before their son can hear or smell anything of the outside world, he hears her voice. His heart is fine, his body like the rest of their children - taking the midline between mother and father. His mind responds quickly to her nudges. He seems fine. And yet his tardiness is worrisome, and the little mother frets around the kingdom, wobbling here and there with a belly the size of one of Vanquish’s haunches.
Until he finally comes, and the adage better late than never is all too true.
Holed up in the red rocks at the edge of the kingdom, Yael nudges her black-and-silver son (a different sort of melding than Kitra, but he is equally half her, and half Van) up to his wobbly legs, whispering sweet words of encouragement. He acknowledges them and turns to suckle, but is strangely quiet. She frowns. Hiding behind pursed lips, she mentally reaches out to her dragon and confesses what she has feared all along, Darleeng, I t’ink… I t’ink xe cannot speak. She stifles a cry in both voices, while guilt and then anger and hatred wash over her in a torrent of emotions. They would pay for this.
Luckily, Qatar takes no notice.
And this… this could be remedied. She’d given friends to Munroe, she could give a companion to Qatar. Someone who would speak for him, a bird - no, that doesn’t seem right. A cat, or desert dog of some sort? The magician reaches out to the desert creatures of the rocks, of the land before the sands, and finds a caracal that has also recently given birth. Poor thing had four kittens - she would never miss one. Quietly and quickly, snatches the sleeping kitten from its mother’s den and tinkers a little bit with its head, opening it to a telepathic bond with her son and the ability to speak to horses. When Qatar has had his fill, he stumbles away and falls into the milk-coma, allowing Yael to place the kitten at his side, and let the bonding begin.
She would have no trouble talking to her son, but one day his world would stretch far beyond her. He would need someone to talk for him.
YAEL
mother, magician, queen