06-30-2020, 05:22 PM
Stories.
I hadn’t known they’d existed until Lepis told me one. The first story, my origin, is a long one. I listened carefully anyways, half lulled by the way my belly was filling up and half lulled by the sound of her familiar voice and scent. It seemed that my existence was no new thing; my siblings stretched before me in a wide range of ages and types. The history of my history went back over a decade and I thought very little of it. I was only an infant. But there was comfort in knowing my life wouldn’t be singular, that I could grow and discover more about myself and my lineage, and the way Lepis made it sound seemed like I would have plenty of time to figure it all out.
I gulped in a quick breath of air and drank a little more, then let go.
Mother suggested I should sleep, but I could hardly admit I wanted to. My eyelid blinked heavily, milk-drunk, and I frowned at the same time my ears went back. Sleep already? Hadn’t I only just woken up?
In the morning she promised to show me Loess. Our home. I considered this: sleep meant I could see Loess, but it meant missing out on the twinkling stars and the crescent moon. I blinked, contemplating the black and white of my choices, and sighed when curiosity won out over the present moment. “Oh-kay.” I yawned at mother. My little baby gums were pink and healthy. I shook my head and swished my tail, circling away from her to tramp down the high grass and wildflowers into a small bed. “Low-ess. Low… ess.” I murmured quietly to myself, a childish nighttime song.
With a crumpling oomph, I folded down into the grass like a baby fawn. Exhaustion swept through me, a hollow feeling after the one Lepis had given me. Mom was right: I was tired. Yawning again, I did as mother asked and dutifully closed my eyes, sighing as the smell of peonies and the hope of tomorrow eased me into a peaceful darkness.
@[Lepis]
I hadn’t known they’d existed until Lepis told me one. The first story, my origin, is a long one. I listened carefully anyways, half lulled by the way my belly was filling up and half lulled by the sound of her familiar voice and scent. It seemed that my existence was no new thing; my siblings stretched before me in a wide range of ages and types. The history of my history went back over a decade and I thought very little of it. I was only an infant. But there was comfort in knowing my life wouldn’t be singular, that I could grow and discover more about myself and my lineage, and the way Lepis made it sound seemed like I would have plenty of time to figure it all out.
I gulped in a quick breath of air and drank a little more, then let go.
Mother suggested I should sleep, but I could hardly admit I wanted to. My eyelid blinked heavily, milk-drunk, and I frowned at the same time my ears went back. Sleep already? Hadn’t I only just woken up?
In the morning she promised to show me Loess. Our home. I considered this: sleep meant I could see Loess, but it meant missing out on the twinkling stars and the crescent moon. I blinked, contemplating the black and white of my choices, and sighed when curiosity won out over the present moment. “Oh-kay.” I yawned at mother. My little baby gums were pink and healthy. I shook my head and swished my tail, circling away from her to tramp down the high grass and wildflowers into a small bed. “Low-ess. Low… ess.” I murmured quietly to myself, a childish nighttime song.
With a crumpling oomph, I folded down into the grass like a baby fawn. Exhaustion swept through me, a hollow feeling after the one Lepis had given me. Mom was right: I was tired. Yawning again, I did as mother asked and dutifully closed my eyes, sighing as the smell of peonies and the hope of tomorrow eased me into a peaceful darkness.
@[Lepis]