11-04-2018, 09:13 PM
i'd break the back of love for you.
@[Wane]
The moment she learned of the coming plague, she began her work. The egg was safe in her nest so long as no one dared to enter her lair, but the safety was too fickle to bet one. So she took the egg, cradled it in her stretching jaws like a mother crocodile introducing her young to the water. Once it was safely tucked into her belly once more, she made her way to the isle and started from scratch.
Her face took the shape of a hognose viper while she dug, building a new cave from scratch. Khuma’s muscles ached in the cold and it took so much more energy to keep her body warm-blooded. But her unborn child depended on her and she couldn’t let him down so long as his heartbeat continued within his shell. When she finally finished, her nose was raw and red from the missing scales, but the new den was warm and the entrance curved to keep out the harsh winter winds.
The final step was plucking dried grasses from the surrounding region to weave into a bed for her egg. Occasionally she entertained the idea of napping in her half-made nest but her instincts vetoed the notion quickly. No rest until her baby was safe, she told herself with half-lidded eyes.
As the sun set on the horizon, she rebirthed her egg in the center of the new home. She was exhausted from her work and only managed to coil around it loosely this time before sleep overtook her.
- - -
A sliver of morning light manages to reach the underground chamber, signaling the start of the day. There are voices in the distance but she feels no need to join them for the time being. She is not one of them, not really. None of them sound like Wane anyhow. She’d nearly forgotten her lover in her frenzy to protect their egg, she realizes with a small pang of guilt.
Khuma slithers toward the entrance of her den, shifting along the way. Her limbs unfold from her bending spine until she’s walking on her hooves once more. The serpent girl’s red and black head peeks from the nursery to search for his face among the strangers, but she’s careful to remain mostly unseen. (As though the mound of dirt all around the entrance isn’t a dead giveaway. But never mind that.)
Her face took the shape of a hognose viper while she dug, building a new cave from scratch. Khuma’s muscles ached in the cold and it took so much more energy to keep her body warm-blooded. But her unborn child depended on her and she couldn’t let him down so long as his heartbeat continued within his shell. When she finally finished, her nose was raw and red from the missing scales, but the new den was warm and the entrance curved to keep out the harsh winter winds.
The final step was plucking dried grasses from the surrounding region to weave into a bed for her egg. Occasionally she entertained the idea of napping in her half-made nest but her instincts vetoed the notion quickly. No rest until her baby was safe, she told herself with half-lidded eyes.
As the sun set on the horizon, she rebirthed her egg in the center of the new home. She was exhausted from her work and only managed to coil around it loosely this time before sleep overtook her.
A sliver of morning light manages to reach the underground chamber, signaling the start of the day. There are voices in the distance but she feels no need to join them for the time being. She is not one of them, not really. None of them sound like Wane anyhow. She’d nearly forgotten her lover in her frenzy to protect their egg, she realizes with a small pang of guilt.
Khuma slithers toward the entrance of her den, shifting along the way. Her limbs unfold from her bending spine until she’s walking on her hooves once more. The serpent girl’s red and black head peeks from the nursery to search for his face among the strangers, but she’s careful to remain mostly unseen. (As though the mound of dirt all around the entrance isn’t a dead giveaway. But never mind that.)
khuma.