Apparently, the mother was in fact necessary.
She provided nutrients to fuel Skaide in her venture from the corpse-littered beach to the river. What remains of mother is on the newborn’s lips, stained red and caked on her skin like a harlot’s lipstick. In death, there is also life. Immune to her own venom, the child easily enough broke through the mother’s skin and replenished herself. A parting gift, she mused.
Even in her first breaths, in her first moments seeing the mother figure towering above her, Skaide held no emotional attachment. With vacant eyes, she watched the heart beat and the blood pulse. Nothing would have happened had the mother simply abandoned her, but she wanted to lay harm. A solitary kiss was pressed to her head, a solemn farewell, but the tables easily enough turned in the child’s favor. Her abandonment of the shore, alone, is a tale of her desperation to survive.
”Skaide,” she idly echoes her name once in a while as her hollow gaze stares ahead, trance-like, continuing to burn it into memory to replace the looming image of mother’s face. She – mother, her first meal – has proven her usefulness and is no longer relevant, no longer worth remembering. ”I’m not a fool,” her voice is monotone and as empty as her stare. ”I’m not a fool,” she repeats again, playing with what the mother had said before Skaide’s venom uncontrollably poured into her body and congealed her blood and melted the muscle’s fibers. Life’s first lesson was handed to her on a platter. It clings desperately to her memory as she watches that of her mother wash away with the blood on her lips when she dips her head to the river for a drink.
She can only trust herself.
She must protect herself.
i swear i'll become your only desire. i swear i'll rip you apart.She provided nutrients to fuel Skaide in her venture from the corpse-littered beach to the river. What remains of mother is on the newborn’s lips, stained red and caked on her skin like a harlot’s lipstick. In death, there is also life. Immune to her own venom, the child easily enough broke through the mother’s skin and replenished herself. A parting gift, she mused.
Even in her first breaths, in her first moments seeing the mother figure towering above her, Skaide held no emotional attachment. With vacant eyes, she watched the heart beat and the blood pulse. Nothing would have happened had the mother simply abandoned her, but she wanted to lay harm. A solitary kiss was pressed to her head, a solemn farewell, but the tables easily enough turned in the child’s favor. Her abandonment of the shore, alone, is a tale of her desperation to survive.
”Skaide,” she idly echoes her name once in a while as her hollow gaze stares ahead, trance-like, continuing to burn it into memory to replace the looming image of mother’s face. She – mother, her first meal – has proven her usefulness and is no longer relevant, no longer worth remembering. ”I’m not a fool,” her voice is monotone and as empty as her stare. ”I’m not a fool,” she repeats again, playing with what the mother had said before Skaide’s venom uncontrollably poured into her body and congealed her blood and melted the muscle’s fibers. Life’s first lesson was handed to her on a platter. It clings desperately to her memory as she watches that of her mother wash away with the blood on her lips when she dips her head to the river for a drink.
She can only trust herself.
She must protect herself.
Skaide