11-14-2018, 11:21 PM
She remembers Silver Cove more vividly than most other places, she realizes as she slinks across the borders. The winter wind, coming off the tide, isn’t as harsh when it caresses her cheek as it is in the meadows. A lazy housecat sort of smirk curls across her lips as she watches the reflection of the moon on the water in the cove. A trail of dried blood runs down from her nostrils but she doesn’t seem to mind once her hooves touch the ancient sand. Home, she thinks as she breaths deep the smells she thought she had forgotten.
Within her womb, an unborn son kicks weakly in protest of her simply standing still. He seemed to prefer being rocked by the steady rhythm of her steps. She smiles a little more and turns her head to look at the swell of her stomach. Somehow, even after giving birth and bring pregnant so many times, she still believed there was some small magic in creating life. The miracle of it all could never be lost on someone like her. She sighs slowly and turns back toward the hills that make up the rest of the cove, content with seeing the sea again.
The contractions had started a few hours ago and she knew it wouldn’t be long before her youngest child entered the world. She lowers herself to the ground carefully, groaning as her aching joints protest the movement while she’s still so ill. Mordgeld has never had a child born premature, she realizes, but she tries to keep her breathing steady and relaxed for her son’s sake. Once she’s laying on her side, she coughs a bit from the pressure on her lungs and begins to push. The plague makes her body hurt so much more than it normally might but she fights the way it aches in her hips. Her eyes focus on the indigo clouds easing across the night sky, miles from this pain and disease. The moon slowly crawls toward the other horizon as she continues her labor.
Sweat makes her coat glisten in the moonlight before she gives one final push. Mordgeld lifts her tired head and rolls onto her belly so she can look at the newborn boy, all legs and slick mane. But he doesn’t cry out as most others do. Her instinct drives her up onto her hooves despite her weak muscles and she begins to clean him, nudging his sweet face anxiously.
“Nyctelios, you have to cough. You have to breathe,” she whispers gently against his cheek. The mother runs her nose up his spine to encourage him and she does her best to be patient. She’d only ever lost one child before and it had devastated her. Her nameless daughter had never even opened her eyes. She blinks away the tears forming in her dark eyes and kisses the tiny child’s forehead once more. “You have to try, sweet baby.”
i am the dragon breathing fire.
beautiful man, i'm the lion.
Within her womb, an unborn son kicks weakly in protest of her simply standing still. He seemed to prefer being rocked by the steady rhythm of her steps. She smiles a little more and turns her head to look at the swell of her stomach. Somehow, even after giving birth and bring pregnant so many times, she still believed there was some small magic in creating life. The miracle of it all could never be lost on someone like her. She sighs slowly and turns back toward the hills that make up the rest of the cove, content with seeing the sea again.
The contractions had started a few hours ago and she knew it wouldn’t be long before her youngest child entered the world. She lowers herself to the ground carefully, groaning as her aching joints protest the movement while she’s still so ill. Mordgeld has never had a child born premature, she realizes, but she tries to keep her breathing steady and relaxed for her son’s sake. Once she’s laying on her side, she coughs a bit from the pressure on her lungs and begins to push. The plague makes her body hurt so much more than it normally might but she fights the way it aches in her hips. Her eyes focus on the indigo clouds easing across the night sky, miles from this pain and disease. The moon slowly crawls toward the other horizon as she continues her labor.
Sweat makes her coat glisten in the moonlight before she gives one final push. Mordgeld lifts her tired head and rolls onto her belly so she can look at the newborn boy, all legs and slick mane. But he doesn’t cry out as most others do. Her instinct drives her up onto her hooves despite her weak muscles and she begins to clean him, nudging his sweet face anxiously.
“Nyctelios, you have to cough. You have to breathe,” she whispers gently against his cheek. The mother runs her nose up his spine to encourage him and she does her best to be patient. She’d only ever lost one child before and it had devastated her. Her nameless daughter had never even opened her eyes. She blinks away the tears forming in her dark eyes and kisses the tiny child’s forehead once more. “You have to try, sweet baby.”
MordgelD
beautiful man, i'm the lion.