07-22-2019, 02:34 AM
She keeps waiting for the weakness to pass, but the moment doesn’t come. She remembers being tired after Kennice and Kensley, and she wonders if maybe time had caused the memory of how tired to diminish. Maybe it was like this last time, she tells herself. Maybe last time she had trembled and shivered, and she just doesn’t remember; maybe last time her muscles and bones had suddenly felt impossible to move, and she simply forgot.
She refused to entertain the idea that something was wrong, and that there was a possibility she wouldn’t be okay.
“I’m fine, I promise, I’m just...tired,” and she tries to force the quiver from her voice, tries to make it sound stronger than she felt. But the feel of him against her shoulder makes her want to lean into him, makes her want to close her eyes and drift off to sleep. It’s tempting, and she can feel her lids begin to close, but the girls are still stirring, and trying to find their legs.
Drawing in a shuddering breath, she begins the daunting task of standing. She can feel the way her legs protest, how they threaten to buckle beneath her weight, and so she lets her shoulder rest against his once she is finally up. Her head lowers to their daughters again, both of them still damp and shivering in the winter cold. Her warm breath fans across the second-born, cleaning and drying her face, her neck, her back. She moves back to the first filly, her lips caressing down the crest of her neck and then across the soft, feathered wings that hug her rib cage. “My father had wings. Maybe that’s where they came from?” She muses aloud, more or less to herself. They were both flawless, and if she wasn’t struggling with exhaustion, she knows her heart would be overflowing.
With a trembling sigh she rests her head against Jarris’ chest, still watching the twins. She should be helping them stand, she knows. They were both trying, and at one point she half-heartedly uses her nose as leverage in an attempt to help one of them make it more upright, but currently it’s all she can do to fight her way out of the fog it feels like she is suffocating in. “Do you like the name Karina? I think I want to name one of them Karina,” she murmurs into his skin, watching the little winged filly as she says it.
P L U M E R I A
when all of the light is gone
a single spark is all I need.
She refused to entertain the idea that something was wrong, and that there was a possibility she wouldn’t be okay.
“I’m fine, I promise, I’m just...tired,” and she tries to force the quiver from her voice, tries to make it sound stronger than she felt. But the feel of him against her shoulder makes her want to lean into him, makes her want to close her eyes and drift off to sleep. It’s tempting, and she can feel her lids begin to close, but the girls are still stirring, and trying to find their legs.
Drawing in a shuddering breath, she begins the daunting task of standing. She can feel the way her legs protest, how they threaten to buckle beneath her weight, and so she lets her shoulder rest against his once she is finally up. Her head lowers to their daughters again, both of them still damp and shivering in the winter cold. Her warm breath fans across the second-born, cleaning and drying her face, her neck, her back. She moves back to the first filly, her lips caressing down the crest of her neck and then across the soft, feathered wings that hug her rib cage. “My father had wings. Maybe that’s where they came from?” She muses aloud, more or less to herself. They were both flawless, and if she wasn’t struggling with exhaustion, she knows her heart would be overflowing.
With a trembling sigh she rests her head against Jarris’ chest, still watching the twins. She should be helping them stand, she knows. They were both trying, and at one point she half-heartedly uses her nose as leverage in an attempt to help one of them make it more upright, but currently it’s all she can do to fight her way out of the fog it feels like she is suffocating in. “Do you like the name Karina? I think I want to name one of them Karina,” she murmurs into his skin, watching the little winged filly as she says it.
when all of the light is gone
a single spark is all I need.
@[jarris]