10-12-2018, 12:00 AM
She’d slept for so long down there on the ocean floor. Mordgeld had nearly forgotten what life above the surface had been like. Instead, her life in Beqanna had become something like a far-off dream. Down there, the pressure and the cold choked everything she had been until she was one with it. The icy trench had held her down until Pangea was summoned from its sickly grave. Somewhere between the kingdom rising and the conquest to retrieve it, her body was knocked free on the silt and sand that entombed her.
When she tries to draw her first breaths, she’s coughing up salt and detritus from her burning lungs. The sun shines too bright into her eyes so she must squint to see the world around her. Another cough expels a jagged shell from her throat, bringing a spattering of coagulated blood with it. There is a sneer of disgust when she sees it but she figures she should rise from her place on the wet sand. Some rebirth this is, she thinks when she staggers up.
She gives a shake of her head and the colony of coral that had built their home along her spine goes shattering to the ground.
The summer heat begins to chew through the bitter cold of her skin, loosening the muscles that had hibernated for decades. She doesn’t quite recall dying this time, or rather not dying, she supposes. Mordgeld can vaguely remember being fed up with what the world had become since she was a small child. Wars became over petty, simple things that stirred nothing from the pit of her heart. They were weak compared to her children. Each of hers had grown up strong and made something of themselves.
She takes her first steps back on land and a barnacle is dislodged from her shoulder.
But fate has chosen for her and decided that she should return now. A slow sigh, raspy still from the remnants of the saltwater in her lungs, eases from her nose. There’s some kind of parasitic fish still latched between her ribs but she figures it’ll give up before too long. It squirms a bit as it begins to suffocate and sinks its many teeth deeper into her skin. Mordgeld snorts and continues on her way. Let it have a little more of her blood.
i am the dragon breathing fire.
beautiful man, i'm the lion.
When she tries to draw her first breaths, she’s coughing up salt and detritus from her burning lungs. The sun shines too bright into her eyes so she must squint to see the world around her. Another cough expels a jagged shell from her throat, bringing a spattering of coagulated blood with it. There is a sneer of disgust when she sees it but she figures she should rise from her place on the wet sand. Some rebirth this is, she thinks when she staggers up.
She gives a shake of her head and the colony of coral that had built their home along her spine goes shattering to the ground.
The summer heat begins to chew through the bitter cold of her skin, loosening the muscles that had hibernated for decades. She doesn’t quite recall dying this time, or rather not dying, she supposes. Mordgeld can vaguely remember being fed up with what the world had become since she was a small child. Wars became over petty, simple things that stirred nothing from the pit of her heart. They were weak compared to her children. Each of hers had grown up strong and made something of themselves.
She takes her first steps back on land and a barnacle is dislodged from her shoulder.
But fate has chosen for her and decided that she should return now. A slow sigh, raspy still from the remnants of the saltwater in her lungs, eases from her nose. There’s some kind of parasitic fish still latched between her ribs but she figures it’ll give up before too long. It squirms a bit as it begins to suffocate and sinks its many teeth deeper into her skin. Mordgeld snorts and continues on her way. Let it have a little more of her blood.
MordgelD
beautiful man, i'm the lion.