Appearances never mattered to the prophecy, but even she knew the human before her was unbefitting of motherhood.
HE required a cage and a SOUL—both human. She had been compliant under the guise of survival, for curiosity was her ailment, and HE, a willing doctor. A royal scientist. HE would medicate her until the end of his stretching lifespan.
What it required from was, seemingly, innate. But the nausea and the swelling, the all-too-agonizing aches, the fatigue crawling through the back of her head to lug on her eyes, was anything but natural. And this was only the first trimester.
But she would see the worlds in exchange for her labor. HE promised.
"S E L E C T T H E H E A D T H A T Y O U P R E F E R."
Medical advancements were truly incredible. Who created the embryo gnawing at her womb, she did not know, but their genes were adaptable enough to mold through pregnancy. She scrolled through her options and… that one. The one with round cheeks and a narrowing chin, and eyes so sharp it could carve through worlds. She selected it and swelled at the doctor's hummed approval.
"S E L E C T T H E T O R S O T H A T Y O U P R E F E R."
Her child would be intersex. She requested it to the doctor, keen on its prospects. "They must carry the full benefits of both sexes," she had told him, "to carry the full benefits of the SOUL they will retrieve."
"S E L E C T T H E L E G S T H A T Y O U P R E F E R."
Full benefits were impossible, but she took what she could get. Her child would be nothing short of a miracle.
But when she rose from the stiff mattress, sore from injections, she herself was anything but.
The sickness quelled in the second trimester. She pressed against the dark circles under her eyes, slid her fingers through oily hair, and paid the sacrifice no mind.
She entered the medical bay once more. The scent of disinfectant reeked through her nose, and the buzzing of machines filled what little sound the walls could hold. Her pregnant stomach would tolerate it—she would make sure of that.
From across the glass, HE remained.
"W H A T I S I T ' S F A V O R I T E F O O D?"
She closed her eyes pondered it for a moment: a child, eating. Taking joy in the flavors Earth has granted. What is it they would savor most? Sweets, perhaps? Like herself?
Whichever SOUL would retrieve them would discover it for her.
"Y O U R F A V O R I T E B L O O D T Y P E?"
She was weak, and could not provide her child with the most adaptable blood. Her scoff through the double sided mirror told the doctor that. Damn this child and their ability to survive.
"W H A T C O L O R D O E S I T L I K E M O S T?"
She… did not want to close her eyes again. She knew what she would see.
"P L E A S E G I V E I T A G I F T."
Damn this child. She said so herself. She meddled with the IV beside her long enough to lure a nurse, then left without answering the question.
The third trimester stole her breath and granted her pain. She was done with this. Weight had clung to her arms, her thighs, her bulging belly, growing larger by the day. She hoisted it as she tried to convince herself there was nothing good about this, only to feel the gentle kicking of the being inside, and succumbed to her heart once more.
"H O W D O Y O U F E E L A B O U T Y O U R C R E A T I O N? (I T W I L L N O T H E A R.)"
A gentle kick. A soft push. The semblance of hers.
She would feel nothing when the day arrived. She swore it so it must be tru but there,
there,
in the room beyond screams, in the pain burning through her body, her legs, echoing in screams and cries for they could not medicate her
—no, the Cage must be delivered naturally—
intertwined like leather straps on her wrist, endless as the blood and the piss and the mucus and whatever the fuck else a human could secrete, tearing through her womb as if her flesh was paper, prying her open, weeping to be free, dying to be free and she would
die
if it meant she could taste freedom for once in her fucking life
if her child could
"N A M E Y O U R V E S S E L."
"A N D W H A T A B O U T T H E M O T H E R?"
"A N D W H A T A B O U T
T H E M O T H E R?"
I have feelings about potentially being a mother one day and I don't know what to do with them. So here take Kris's bio mom as the SOUL.
This will be a fully-fledged fic mark my fucking word
Zainab shut the doors of the medical cabinet with a heavy sigh. A long day of caring for injured patients had left her in a rather fatigued state. She had just finished cleaning up the healer's hut, disposing of bloodied rags and sanitizing medical supplies for their next use.
She slumped back in her chair, her eyes heavy as she stared out the window. It was about dusk, a hint of orange light hiding beneath the darkness—a sure sign that she had missed the dinner-time mark.
But she wasn't necessarily worried about that right now. What she needed was a little pick-me-up…
The healer smiled to herself as she picked herself up, reaching for something fixed and hidden on the shelves above the work table. She carefully pulled out a corked glass vial containing a mysterious purple liquid. The label, strung with twine, bore a subtle symbol of a skull.
"Just a sip.." she mummered to herself, popping the cork from the vial as she brough it close to her lips.
Before she could even take a swig, a younglings voice called out, causing her to flinch. "What are you doing?"
Zainab's eyes darted towards the door where she spotted a young lamb in a red shawl holding a bowl, innocent eyes staring at with curiousity.
"O-oh, hello there Temi.."
Zainab put the cork back in, setting it on the table with a air of nervousness as the young ewe approached her.
Poison sipping will have to wait... She pressed a hand on her chest as she let out a exhale, noticing that the bowl was filled with cauliflower soup.
"Big fella didn't see you at dinner so he had me deliver it to you, since he had to leave for the night," Temi started, her arms crossed as she leaned against the table. "You didn't answer my question by the way."
Zainab pinched her lips together as a finger tapped against the table, trying to come up with a logical answer.
"To put it simply, I was having a...unconventional beverage.."
Temi peered closer at the exlixer resting on the table, before her eyes focused on the healer. "Are you drinking poison Miss Zainab..?"
"...Yes..."
There was a still pause in the air between them as she gave Temi a reply. Zainab didn't *exactly* feel comfortable telling a mere child that she was, in fact, going to drink poison that *could* potientally kill her, poison immunity or not...
"That is so cool..." Temi whispered, her eyes sparkling with intrigued.
"W-what?" Zainab stuttered, put off by the young ewe's apparent ethusiam.
"That is so cool!" she repeated, her tail wagging as she beamed excitedly. "Have you done it before??? How are you not dead right??? "
Zainab couldn't help but giggle at her questions, a hand hovering her own mouth.
"It took me *years* with self-experimentation, but the reason why I'm not dead is because I developed a immunity to poison..."
"Can...Can *I* develop a poison immunity?" Temi asked, clearly excited as the prospect of being able to consume poison without barely any trouble.
"Maybe when you're older...you are pretty young afterall and I do not think your caretaker would approve."
Temi crossed her arms with a 'hmph!', the healer playfully rolling her eyes at the young tyke's pouting.
"I am so sorry your guardian and I doesn't want you harmed.." Zainab teased, patting the young girl's head. "Thank you for the meal, much apperciated.."
I had a fifteen minute long crying session yesternight over the fact that all I was 10 years ago, at the ripe old age of 14, is lost and lonely, and now, at 24, I am neither and that filled me with so much gratitude
reblog to tell a teenager that these aren’t actually the best years of your life and that things can and will get better when you have independance and maybe are away from your situation right now.
fandom is a lot more fun when your goal isn’t to be “that big, popular account” within the fandom but just to have fun and talk about what brings you comfort and happiness by the way
