"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
peel away the layers till you're nothing and no one
She is SO ready to give birth.
The winter months have been a painful experience for her. She thought she’d been fat enough when she’d run into her sister in the fall, but her pregnant belly has expanded exponentially since that day. Every part of her feels swollen and sore, and she feels like the child(ren?) inside is almost ready to kick out through her stretched skin.
And then, finally it happens.
Her contractions begin, and she immediately hides in away in a quiet clearing in the forest where she can give birth in peace.
But peace is not exactly what she gets.
The birth lasts hours, her sides contracting and pushing, trying to force out the young one within. First comes one little damp purple bundle, then another …. then another.
Triplets?!
She is so astounded that at first she just lies there, staring. TRIPLETS?! But, as exhausted as she is, instinct quickly takes over, and she gets to her feet to begin to clean. The first is a girl, with a purple coat, black points, tiny wrinkled dragon wings, and two little black horn nubs poking out of her brow. The second, another girl, is completely identical. The third is smaller, a boy, and while his colour matches his sisters, he doesn’t have the wings or horn nubs.
She stands there for a moment, just staring. Three children. THREE. And, she’s struck by the sudden thought, all children her father would have greatly approved of (that is traited, and/or unusually coloured). She stays there, frozen, until her exhaustion begins to take over in earnest. Giving birth to three children in succession has taken its toll, and her eyelids begin to droop. She lies down beside the triplets, and while she tries to stay awake, she’s asleep in mere moments.
02-09-2017, 10:57 AM (This post was last modified: 02-09-2017, 12:06 PM by Potion|Ecco.)
Eternal life, eternal beauty.
Such shallow pursuits, perhaps, and yet she bequeathed it to those willing to pay its price. It did not come for free, never something for nothing and perhaps that something was only for amusement. Regardless, it was always a means to an end, whatever form that might take.
Consider this a debt paid.
Her sisters distaste for them all had come to light, there were no secrets kept for too long. Was it a secret even? Either way Kirin knew she had renounced their ways, thought them barbaric and uncivil and he did not need to tell Potion the punishment. Whether she had wanted it or not the vibrant feathered pegasus had been among those to receive her sisters gift, for quite some time. While she no longer reaped those benefits, Father thought Potion should have some sort of compensation, a girl must be paid.
It was not hard to find them, the smell soaking the earth and permeating the air with life anew. The forest clearing one of many and yet somehow, this one was quieter than others, a place of solitude. For a time.
Potion knew there would be many and she was not wrong. One, two, three. Mind the three-fold laws, she thought with a smile curving across her pastel lips. Ah three little things she had blessed at the end of winter, three little things now she would take. Their mother dozed so peacefully among the grass, spent from her labors and Potion stood before them for a moment, watching with a considering eye. She loved her sister, let that not be lost now, in this moment of treachery. However, what you hear are lies. Love doesn't conquer all.
“You knew this would come,” she whispered, lowering her maw to her sisters velvet ear. Her lavender lips nearly touching the soft taper of their zenith.
“Come my dears,” she called to the children, and though the smallest was hardly more than ordinary she would have him too. There was to be no mercy, no half payments or collections. All or nothing.
peel away the layers till you're nothing and no one
God she’s still so tired. But the children need her.
Her eyes flicker open, seeking out the three tiny purple bundles at her side … except there’s nothing in her line of vision. Her head pops up, not panicked yet, assuming, reasonably, that the triplets must have tried standing and walking, and changed places.
But there’s nothing there.
The triplets are gone.
She’s up in an instant, heart in her throat. “Children?” There’s a smell in the air that she recognizes, a smell she hadn’t picked up on immediately …
Potion.
Panic begins to set in. She circles the clearing in which she’d given birth, seeking out a scent trail … and there it is. Potion’s scent, leading off into the trees, followed by the scents of three little children. “POTION!” Panic makes her frantic and she sets off along the scent trail, tracking the path her sister and children had taken. She moves as fast as the thick foliage and her spent body will allow, but, an hour later, with her body weakening and the scent of the quartet fading, she has to admit to her failure. There’s no way she’ll catch up. Potion and the triplets had too much of a head start.
They’re gone.
Tears wink at the corners of her brown eyes and she slumps back against an old oak. She should have seen it, should have known. She’d seen the way Potion had eyed her belly when they’d run into each other in the meadow, had known the debt they would think she owed them. And now she and her children have paid the price.
But as she stands there, leaning against the oak, something more than sadness begins to build in her heart. Rage, pure, white hot rage. They’d already taken everything from her, taken her childhood, taken her innocence … She’d done everything for them, had killed her own mother for them. And now they take her children from her?!
02-22-2017, 11:57 AM (This post was last modified: 02-22-2017, 11:59 AM by Wicked.)
He says nothing, trailing behind his sisters, fluffing his black little tail at them. He is a boy, normal, if not oddly colored, in a land of wings and horns. And yet, that gay lady.... g- g- grrayyy lady, seems to know who they are.Wicked little thing, she says to him. His eyes widen. He knows that this is his name but does not understand the implications of what this old lady means.
What is wicked?
And so he trails behind, unextraordinary--and purple--behind the only family he has ever known. His mother; forgotten. He has barely seen her in his short existence, and even then, it was barely for a moment. He has suckled his first meal, and then had fallen asleep. Now in the company of this strange old g- g- gray lady, following his older bigger sisters like a good little boy is supposed to. He does not speak. What can he say? This old lady certainly doesn't want him. One who calls him Wicked.
![[Image: kirke.png]](http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y125/102938475611/kirke.png)
