05-21-2020, 02:02 PM
l e p i s
the next step was a question of how
Once, the dun mare had been able to find humor in any situation. Once, she had laughed easily and smiled without hesitation.
Today, she scowls.
Neverwhere’s question, even if Lepis doubts she means it, is met with ears turned back. She bites down the desire to argue, to say that her children belong to Wolfbane and not to the creature that wear him. But that would be a lie, and she knows it, and it is better not to lie (if only because it makes keeping stories straight far more simple). Lepis also knows that were Neverwhere to actually do as she threatens that Lepis would be unable to push the thing off a cliff like it deserves. There are some lines that even the woman who that prides herself on ruthlessness cannot cross.
She is running out of time to gain the ability to, and she knows it. Lepis does not allow herself to think that culling a child would be far easier than what she means to attempt, but it is a close thing.
Neverwhere confirms that she is leaving, and Lepis releases the smallest of sighs. Good. One less thing to worry about.
The colt at the dapple’s side pulls away, milk about his whiskers, and Lepis accidentally meets his eyes just as scowl depends on her face.
This is what Starsin had meant, she realizes. She has no words for this feeling, for the way she aches at seeing Wolfbane in his little face and knows that the little differences are not her contribution. Knowing that his conception had required those wounds at Neverwhere’s shoulders do not soften the sensation, nor does the sudden appearance of a mirror image, a reminder that the dappled colt is not the only half-sibling her children have.
“Get out of here, Neverwhere,” she growls angrily, because these days anger is always the nearest emotion at hand. She uses it to protect herself first, to drown out the feelings that had pricked tears at the corners of her blue-grey eyes, but Neverwhere receives it as well. “Or I’ll find a cliff to push that thing off.”
@
Today, she scowls.
Neverwhere’s question, even if Lepis doubts she means it, is met with ears turned back. She bites down the desire to argue, to say that her children belong to Wolfbane and not to the creature that wear him. But that would be a lie, and she knows it, and it is better not to lie (if only because it makes keeping stories straight far more simple). Lepis also knows that were Neverwhere to actually do as she threatens that Lepis would be unable to push the thing off a cliff like it deserves. There are some lines that even the woman who that prides herself on ruthlessness cannot cross.
She is running out of time to gain the ability to, and she knows it. Lepis does not allow herself to think that culling a child would be far easier than what she means to attempt, but it is a close thing.
Neverwhere confirms that she is leaving, and Lepis releases the smallest of sighs. Good. One less thing to worry about.
The colt at the dapple’s side pulls away, milk about his whiskers, and Lepis accidentally meets his eyes just as scowl depends on her face.
This is what Starsin had meant, she realizes. She has no words for this feeling, for the way she aches at seeing Wolfbane in his little face and knows that the little differences are not her contribution. Knowing that his conception had required those wounds at Neverwhere’s shoulders do not soften the sensation, nor does the sudden appearance of a mirror image, a reminder that the dappled colt is not the only half-sibling her children have.
“Get out of here, Neverwhere,” she growls angrily, because these days anger is always the nearest emotion at hand. She uses it to protect herself first, to drown out the feelings that had pricked tears at the corners of her blue-grey eyes, but Neverwhere receives it as well. “Or I’ll find a cliff to push that thing off.”
