The children were away at their grandparents house which had left the house eerily quiet. Normally A'sana enjoyed the quiet and would have taken advantage of it but tonight her nerves jangled like silver notes bouncing about her head. Brem was doing last minute preparation for the mission tomorrow and Sana had her own work to do but she couldn't focus.
Instead she found herself out in the little gazebo tucked in the corner of the yard with a little box in hand. It'd been years since she'd bothered with the box since she didn't indulge in such things while tending to her children or pregnant. Tonight, though, she needed something to take the edge off so she could focus and make sure her preparations were done.
It took little effort to pack the little pipe and get it prepared for her to light with a quick touch of a fire crystal. Even being careful, she'd forgotten how hard it could hit after a long abstinence. Though as a sense of calm started to wash over her, she wasn't certain that was a bad thing.
With her normally anxious mind soothed into a lull, she was less pressed to over prepare and instead enjoy a few moments of peace in the garden. If tomorrow meant potential losses, she might as well enjoy being relaxed and content for a short while. While she had faith in her family and friends, they couldn't control every variable and they were going in with a lot of variables.
Tucking everything away in the box once she was done, she set it to the side in favor of staying outside a bit longer. The sunset was beautiful and it was quiet tucked in her own little world in the corner of the garden. Preparations could wait just a little longer. She was going to let her mind and body ride the hazy, warm high that had settled over her and enjoy the sunset just a little longer before the cold eventually would chase her back in.
Confidence was a wonderful thing but Sana couldn’t for the life of her remember when her’s became such a fragile thing. Sure it could be shaken from time to time in her younger years, but it always seemed to bounce back fourfold. Somewhere along the way, maybe after a few too many blows and a few too many defeats, it had become fragile. She likened it to an old flag that seemed to lose more and more of it’s tattered edges whenever a truly strong wind blew.
Some of the loss, she knew, came from the way her body changed with age and childbearing. Things didn’t bounce back like they did when she’d seen less summers. Her body protested the mornings now, creaking and popping in ways that it never had even with her prior injuries and brushes with death. The sleepless nights hit her harder than they had, leaving her swimming through a fog that was no longer chased off by a strong cup of tea in the morning.
Even in motherhood she found her confidence wasn’t what it had been when she’d had Alvin and Mede. As Alvin grew older and more his own person, she found herself more and more at a loss how to deal with it. It was easier when he was a little, when his whole world revolved around his mothers and those taking care of him or playing with him. Somehow and at some point he’d become a tiny little person with his own opinions that he voiced very loudly at times and she was boggled by it as much as she embraced it.
A part of her wondered if she’d ever have the boundless and firm confidence that she once had, though a larger part of her wondered if it was worth having. Confidence had almost gotten her killed more times than she wished to count; the last time could have risked her unborn children if it’d been just weeks later. Perhaps learning a measure of respect for life and a more tempered sense of confidence was a good thing.
Or perhaps she was just getting too old for some things.
Cloth rubbed against metal and leather, the protective oil soaked into the cloth carrying with it a soft, almost earthy scent that Kasen had long ago associated with the heavy armor. She’d spent so much of her life in the heavy full plate that the subtle scent of the oil was burned into her mind. Most of the time it was comforting, but mixed with other scents it often brought up memories that were better left in the past.
The heavy breastplate gleamed under the warm, cheery lights of the house, out of place among the warm and welcoming interior decorated by hands much more adept at such things than her or Tempest. Even just looking at the breastplate made her back twinge in protest. As protective as the piece was, it was heavy and she wasn’t getting younger.
Each year brought new experiences, new lessons learned and new mastery of her profession. That wasn’t to say being a bodyguard was hard, but being a good one took time, understanding and patience. The later, she found, also helped with her wife and child which both took a level of patience and understanding. When she’d been a gladiator in the ring in Ul’dah, she’d never once thought that understanding and patience would become the skills she’d be the most reliant on.
The breastplate, shining with it’s fresh polish despite the various scuffs and dings still present in it, went up onto the display mannequin that had been bought for it. She wasn’t certain if it would stay there forever, but for now it was finding a new home. The gauntlets and greaves would eventually join the breastplate and for a moment she felt a pang of some unnamed emotion as she looked to the familiar set.
While she wasn’t giving up her sword and shield, she needed armor that wasn’t as heavy and gave her better flexibility. The errands that Brem had put her out on tended to be in association with Brem’s crew and looking the part had helped. Walking around looking like a bodyguard or adventurer in full plate, or even worse, a bloody Sultansworn, wasn’t exactly helpful when dealing with pirates. They might have chosen the sky instead of the sea, but they were still pirates and Kasen knew pirates. Try as she might to run from her past, piracy ran in her blood as surely as the sea did.
The newer, lighter armor was piecemealed between leather and some plate pieces, giving her much more maneuverability. It was at the sacrifice of protection, but she was confident that between some clever aether manipulation and years of practice with her shield she could make up the deficit enough to get along. Besides, it was hard to shoot when there was an almost hyur sized shield being shoved into one’s face.
Looking to her armor one last time on it’s display, she sighed. Age brought experience and knowledge, but it also brought the decline of the ability to put that experience and knowledge to use. At least, it was threatening to. She wasn’t about to give up what she loved easily just because she was getting older, she decided as she turned off the light to leave the room.
((TW: Child loss, Still birth, illness. More Antelope headcannon for Sana’s specific tribe. Not Sana though, but her grandmother.))
Most times the cool quiet of the crystal laden cave was calming to A’tiyhe. A sanctuary from the living, breathing village that seemed to expel noise constantly save for when it slept. She loved her tribe, her family, but often times it was easier to hide away in their holy place and forget the world existed. Today, though, it was a prison.
Another child had been tested to see if he could pass the trials to take up the mantle of spiritwalker. She’d watched in horror as the aether was stripped from his body by the ravages of the trial, unable to do anything but sit and watch. Intervening would have left him in a state worse than death. It was a mercy to let him fail and die rather than be nothing more than a ghost of his former self locked within his body.
He’d only been four summers old.
She hadn’t wanted to test him and she worried that his young age had ultimately been the folly that had killed him. It was too young. He hadn’t lived life enough. Hadn’t developed the roots that those more solidly themselves had. It was too easy to get swept away with the aether without them.
She needed a successor though. Every day she could feel more and more of her body weakening to the illness that was taking her. Somedays she couldn’t even leave her home, her body too weak to even support her legs to take a few steps across her little home let alone down into the valley to their cave.
A’tiyhe cursed her failing body. She was supposed to be the spiritual leader for her tribe. The embodiment of Mother Moon to guide them and give them strength when faced with the challenges of the spirit and the Dreaming. They revered her in almost deific fashion when she was little more than a mere mortal, even more flaws than those who revered her.
Every word she spoke to them was like ash on her tongue but she did it to protect them from the bitter reality of their tribe. They were dying as surely as she was. Every summer more and more children were born still born or so twisted they only survived a few hours. Children born with blackened hands and feet...claws...horns...Often times the little ones born with the worst deformities were rushed off, hidden so those present for the birth couldn’t see.
They were cursed. Tainted and dying.
And like a trickster goddess, A’tiyhe continued to spread the lies that those before her had. That the spiritwalkers would lead them back to the greatness of their past. That they would once again be a strong and formidable tribe.
They were dying and all she could do was stand back and watch.
A’sana had always loved the chill in the air in the mornings in Thanalan. The nights in the desert could get bitter cold even in the middle of the summer and something about it always seemed like a cleansing. As if the cold cleaned away the sins of the day prior and left the new morning sharp, bright and new.
She’d let the morning ritual of getting out to run the Goblet go about midway through her pregnancy with Ansa and Aren and hadn’t bothered to pick it back up. Having to a breathless run back to the airship after an unexpected attack from some Temple Knights, however, had very much reminded her just how out of shape she was. She hadn’t minded the softness that had settled into her curves, but it really wasn’t useful for doing anything physical. At least nothing physically demanding outside of bedroom play.
The morning run had become a part of her ritual again over the last moon or so and normally she went alone with either the nanny or Brem tending to the children if they were up, which they rarely were. Their little ones tended to wait until a few bells past the dawn to decide to face the world. Then again, Sana had always been an early riser, even if she did tend to sleep better most nights now.
That morning, though, Aren had woken early and was fussy. Instead of leaving the sleepy and grumpy little girl with the nanny, Sana had secured her daughter into a carrier and had taken Aren with her much as she had once done with Alvin when he’d been that age. The rhythmic motions of Sana’s run had quickly lulled the fussy girl back to sleep so the Seeker was left with only her thoughts to fill the silence between her heavy breaths and footfalls.
She loved how her muscles sang and protested with the work out, the extra weight from the infant she carried making her work just a little harder. Even if she’d be sore later, she pushed herself until she felt the tingle of the runner’s high that she hadn’t even realized she’d craved. There was a rush in pushing her body and making it remember what it could do, what she hadn’t made it do for so long.
By the end of the run she’d be exhausted and her legs threatening to give out under her, but she was happy. It was a little joy that would carry her throughout the day and one that she was thankful she’d made herself rediscover once again.
Winter was coming. Ren’sae could feel it in the sharp chill of the morning as he stepped out onto the cold sands barefoot. With the sun just barely beginning it’s daily journey across the sky, its rays hadn’t had the chance to touch the pale sands and chase the cool of the night away from them. With the choppy, dull gray waves slamming themselves against the beach and the even darker clouds out at sea, he doubted the sun would get the chance to do so that day.
The cold and the gray suited his mood. He’d been hard pressed to find sleep the night before, leaving him in a foul mood that had only been made more so by the ‘present’ left for him at the door of his apartment. A single crimson spider lilly. He wasn’t certain if it was supposed to be a potent of his death, or a reminder of what he was.
Unlatching the chakrams at his side, slow deep breaths helped to ready his mind and body for the familiar morning ritual. At one point he had struggled to do this without his instructor, needing the steady beat of the hand drum and the driving and alluring hanish words that came along in song to help him find the beat he needed.
Now the music was in him. His heartbeat stronger than any hand drum could have hopped, the pounding bass of it in his ears setting the primal rhythm that he could find nowhere else. The ocean waves and bird cry added accompaniment that no voice could hope to ever mimic. Even his breath as he began to move became part of the primeval song that had worked its way deep into his bones.
There was nothing when he danced. He didn’t have to worry about numbers and ledgers for the family. There were no threats from a past he was desperately trying to outrun. He didn’t have to deal with the guilt and pain of a life he’d been forced to live. There was no shame. No weariness. No rage. Just the song. Just the dance.
The Keeper’s body moved with the same fluid grace as the waves he danced before, his powerful legs moving and launching him through the twirls and jumps of the improvised dance. His lungs burned exquisitely from the autumnal bite and his muscles sang as each movement seemed to kindle within them some primitive need to push harder. There were no thoughts of how the dance, as beautiful as it was, could be used to kill. No contemplation of the fact that he had driven himself to become stronger because he feared for his life and those he loved.
Love. That made him misstep and sent him sprawling across the scouring sands, his skin meeting the cold grit with protest. He wanted nothing more than to embrace love and wrap it around him like a safety blanket, but he couldn’t.
Nothing would ever allow him to forget what he was. For a year since truly finding his freedom from his final master, he’d struggled and fought to try and learn how to be free. To work past everything that had been done to him and that he’d done because he’d been made to. Some days were easier than others. Those were the days he didn’t look into the mirror.
Everytime he looked in the damn mirror he saw a beautiful monster staring back at him. A creature every bit as foul and terrible as a voidsent, if not more insidious considering most saw him as weak and fragile. A viper in the grass looked weak and fragile as well until their fangs found their mark and tried as he might, he couldn’t hide his. It felt like everything was left ruined by the venom he’d been forced to bear to survive.
Tears burned cold along the gray of his cheeks as he pushed himself from the sound, his heart beating a frantic pace that he knew well. Not one to dance to, but one that often drove him to curl up in the dark recesses of his apartment until it stopped and the world no longer seemed to spin with it. He was broken and trapped. His cage was no longer gilded and lined with silk by a master seeking to keep him like an exotic bird, but he was caged nonetheless.
Something had to give. He had to change. Or he had to die. At least with the latter the threats from his former owners would stop.
That made him still for a moment. If he died, the threats would stop. But how did one die so they could truly begin to live?
Had she not been exasperated with trying to get the two year old ready for bed, Sana might have chuckled at the almost serious look on Alvin's face. Even in his clear frustration at being tended to he couldn't quite get rid off the almost perpetual smile he had. He was a happy boy, but he was stubborn as could be.
“I’m almost done and then you’re going to bed. You’ve been in the sun and the pool all day. You don’t want your scales drying out.” It was a fight to keep her annoyance out of her voice and keep her tone gentle and even as she worked to rub the whipped concoction of oils along the little boy's skin and scales. It was a task easier said than done since he insisted on squirming and trying to roll over to attempt to climb down.
“No momma! No!” As much as he tried to protest as she reached to do his back, a giggle worked its way through when Sana found some of the two year’s more ticklish spots.
“When you’re old enough to fly with your mom on her ship, then you can decide to not take care of your skin and scales. Until then, you’re mine, little squirrel.” Sana teased, purposefully tickling the little boy to keep him giggling and chase the serious little look off his face.
It might have been an ultimatum, but it wasn’t one that she wasn’t to think about too much. Already two years had come and gone in what seemed to be a blink of an eye. She’d watched Alvin go from a tiny little thing with a shock of red hair and sleepy pink eyes to a rather tall little boy who was fast as lightning when he wanted to be with wild red curls that fell down his shoulder that she just couldn’t quite convince herself to cut. Her baby was growing up too fast.
She didn’t even want to think about Aren and Ansa. Their first nameday was fast approaching and already both girls were standing on their own any chance they got and were crawling. They were also picking up words from their older brother too faster than Alvin had himself. Both infants already knew no and how to use it, much to her dismay and they, like their brother, had a stubborn streak a malm long.
Getting Alvin to bed and checking on the already sleeping infant twins, Sana had the sudden and undeniable pang of want. Even after three pregnancies and five children, she wanted another baby. She wanted the joy of holding a tiny little bundle of joy once again.
((This is a follow up to a story written for write month a couple of years ago. Hard TW for implied trauma, and sexual assault of a minor. https://songsofbloodandfire.tumblr.com/post/187654915752/prompt-11snuff is the previous story.))
The heavy scent of ozone, burnt wood and burnt cloth filled the air as A’sana and T’resh stared in stunned silence at the remains of what had once been a rudimentary striking dummy now turned to char and splinters. Neither student or teacher seemed to know how to react at first until terrified and exhaustion fueled tears played in the twelve year old Seeker’s eyes as she collapsed to the floor. That spurred T’resh into action, the elder Seeker moving to scoop the girl up and hold her.
While A’sana was admittedly a young prodigy when it came to learning and mastering spells and techniques in thaumaturgy and had been doing well, but her previous teacher had set her back years of progress. She now had a tendency to either balk and not put enough power into her spells so they’d fizzle and do little but make pretty colors or she’d pour too much and cause more damage than expected. If she hadn’t accidentally killed the old man, T’resh would have been tempted to do so himself. Over the months he’d tried to help her recover from her trauma, he’s struggled to find some bit of the bright and happy girl he’d managed to coax out of the angry orphaned street rat she’d first been when the guild had found her. All that seemed to be left was the angry, volatile child that struggled to not let her emotions affect her magic.
Today had been no different. A’sana had been doing well, hitting the target over and over with consistency and control until something seemed to set her off, though what he wasn’t certain and it wasn’t likely she’d tell him. Her spells had begun to fluctuate wildly and the more he tried to gently correct her, the worse it got as her frustration grew. He should have stopped when he saw her frustration and anger wasn’t going to let them move towards, but he’d tried to push her through it. T’resh knew she could work through it, but he’d underestimated just how deep that anger and frustration was running.
The final attempt the girl had made had been the cause of the ruined dummy and subsequent tears. He’d felt the shift in her aether, felt her pull from the aether around them as much as from herself in a way he knew she hadn’t been taught. That hadn’t bothered him. What worried him was the taste of void that ran heavy through the girl’s aether and had shown itself in coloring the resulting spell in a blue-black that was telling. He’d known from the time he’d started working with her that there was an oddity deep within her aether, an inborn touch of void that seemed to be so much a part of her that it was hard to tell where it started and ended within the girl. T’resh had brushed it off as just a strange oddity and had never seen it actually affect the girl until today.
The void empowered bolt, already wildly stronger than it should have been from her lack of control, had shattered the dummy and sent a mild shockwave through the protected area from the access aether. He’d seen mages with years of training and skill beyond what this child had struggle to get each a fraction of the power that she’d effortlessly, even if recklessly, had used. He was thankful it had scared her. The idea of someone so young not being afraid of their own power was...terrifying.
Holding the sobbing girl, T’resh struggled to decide what to do with her. She was dangerous. Something that needed to be controlled and tamed. While she wasn’t the half-feral street rat she’d once been, but in her current state she was perhaps something worse. Young, trained and emotionally compromised with all the reasoning skills of a twelve year old who’d seen the worst in humanity already. Now knowing she could inadvertently pull at that sliver of void tainting her aether, she’d become a problem. A further deviation that he felt responsible for. It would be kinder to put her out of her misery and spare her and the world. Unfortunately for him, she was like a daughter to him.
Did he love her enough to kill her for the aberration that she was?
((We’re starting this off with a crawl but I got the first prompt done!))
Sana’s world had narrowed down the quiet, cool interior of her bedroom where shades had thrown it into a perpetual state of twilight. As much as her sluggish mind wanted to terrorize her with guilt of lying in bed all day, it was fettered by the fog and pain of one of her headaches. It’d been months since she’d had one bad enough to leave her incapacitated and struggling to do little more than hide under the blankets and sleep until the pain released it’s deathgrip on her.
Distantly she could hear the children playing, or rather she could hear Alvin making more noise than seemed physically possible for a two year old inevitably followed by the only marginally quieter sounds of one of the twin girls. Muffled behind the closed door and distance, Sana couldn’t tell which of the girls it was. Likely both since Ansa and Aren both seemed to try and compete with who could be the loudest at times. She could tell by the ebb and flow of the collective toddler noise making that their nanny would likely get them quieted for a bit before a new noise filled game was found and the cycle started over again.
The soft slide of the door stirred her a bit more out of her pain hazed stupor, at least enough to be aware that someone was in the room with her but not enough to poke her head out from under the covers to see who it was. It wasn’t until she felt a hand that was much too small to be Brem’s that she could piece together who it was even before she heard the voice.
“Momma...can I lay down here with you until mom gets home? I don’t feel good and the babies are being loud.”
It was sheer force of will that got Sana to pull back the covers enough to look to Khoda and study her oldest daughter as best she could through her double vision. The girl looked a bit pale, which was a feat with her gray skin, and generally a little under the weather. The tell tale squinting against even the dim light was enough to let Sana know the girl was suffering from the same type of headache that she was.
“You can lay down with me, ibina. I know they’re being loud, but that’s what babies do.” She said in a soft albeit raspy voice as she lifted the covers to let Khoda in under them. Once the little girl was settled in, Sana wrapped them both up in the blanket, holding Khoda to her in a gentle embrace.
It was precious to her to have those moments with her daughter even in the face of illness. It’d taken time to get Khoda to come out of her shell, to work on the trust between the two of them. While Sana had originally never intended to raise Khoda herself, she was thankful that she had the little girl in her life. It had been a blessing to her to be able to encourage the bond between them and also see the one growing between Khoda and Brem.
Having Khoda there to remind her of the good in her life helped ease her sour mood just a bit. The day might have been a challenge all things considered, but at least that quiet moment between her and Khoda made it better.
(CW: Labor and delivery. Happy Holidays everyone!)
Laughter filled the house with warm cheer and it seemed to make the already gaily decorated home feel even more festive. Various swags and boughs hung merrily on the wall, twinkling with their own light, but were outshone by the overly large silver boughed starlight cheer around which the children were gathered. Sana smiled as Alvin and Mede played together, swapping toys from time to time and seemingly lost in their own world of toddler wonder and imagination. The older girls, Terbish and Khod’a, were chatting happily while admiring the gifts they’d gotten, their words and voices a soft wash of sound as an undercurrent to the louder adult voices.
Sana for her part had long settled into comfortable silence, listening to the conversation between Brem’s mother and her brothers, Brem and her father having slipped from the room though she knew her wife wouldn’t stay out of sight long. The morning had been a hard one for Sana, the bursts of nesting instinct fueled energy she’d had earlier in the week had been missing, making the effort to coax herself out of bed difficult. Stubbornness and force of will had gotten her up and dressed for the festivities.
Thankfully, Abylnpfef had arrived early to help keep Sana chased out of the kitchen and resting. As the rest of the family arrived, more joined in to help with getting the meal ready, setting the table and generally filling the house with the holiday cheer that helped keep her mind off of her discomfort and the unease that played in the back of her mind. It wasn’t until about mid day when she realized how familiar that sense of unease was.
It was the same sense of unease that seemed to come as a precursor to each of her labors. It always seemed to linger like the electric, bated breath of a storm ready to break and in truth she supposed it wasn’t far off from a storm. Or a battle...It took everything in her to hide the fact that she was worried in favor of ensuring that her family enjoyed the day and focused on celebrating Starlight rather than fusing over her. Starlight could come the next day and everyone would have parted to celebrate in their own way but today was for them all together.
At least, that had been her intentions until the twins she carried decided that they had other ideas on letting the day remain cheerful and focused on the festivities. While everyone had chatted and the children enjoyed themselves, Sana’s focus had been pulled inward. The familiar pain of contractions had started, though thankfully mild enough that most could be ignored or if they were too bad, she could pass off any sound of pain as one of the twins kicking a bit too hard. What worried her was how close they were together and the fact that she could time them without fail. Still, she knew enough to know that while the twins were coming, it likely wouldn’t be anytime soon and there was no reason to call for Twi or to worry anyone just yet. The thought, however, was met with uncertainty since she knew with how close the oddly mild contractions had been, the twins were closer to coming than not.. Though, she had noticed the worried looks Ayanga gave her as he started to catch on that something might not be quite normal.
“You all better get to the table if you want to get any food before it gets cold.” Brem’s voice cut through her inner thoughts, pulling her attention back to the present and her family.
“Let me help you up, okhti.” Aya said, already moving to help Sana to her feet since Brem was too far away to be able to do it herself. Sana knew, either way, getting up without help wasn’t going to be an option, partly because they wouldn’t allow it and partly because a particularly strong contraction decided to take that moment to happen.
Sana held tight to Aya’s arm as the contraction worked its way through her and then passed, the lingering hold enough to catch not only Brem’s attention but also Tolemy’s. Forcing a smile on her lips, she shook her head mutely, trying to communicate that it was nothing while she tried to get her breath back. Standing, however, proved otherwise.
Her water hadn’t broken naturally with the birth of her boys and so she’d forgotten how much of a mess it could cause. She paled as she felt the warm rush of fluid was she stood, her ears flattening more out of frustration than any sort of embarrassment. Childbirth was messy and such things were to be expected, but she’d hoped that the day wouldn’t be brought to a halt because of her labor.
She was quick to raise a hand to try and ward off concerned questions and fussing, a shaking sigh preceding her words. “Take me upstairs to rest while you all call Twi. There’s no use in letting the food go to waste since it’ll be awhile before they come, I’m sure.”
Anything said after was lost as another contraction hit, this one strong enough that had she not been holding to Aya she’d have fallen. His hold on her was lost in the wave of pain as was Brem’s as her wife came to help in supporting her. She’d just started to recover but hadn’t quite gotten her voice again when she heard Aya excuse himself to go call for Twi as Brem lifted her into a bridle hold to carry up the stairs.
Sana had expected her labor to be like the other two she’d been through but everything seemed to happen in a flurry of motion once she was safely settled in her room. She was only vaguely aware that the younger children were being kept distracted and happy, while the older two were allowed to come and go. Instead of the slow, torturous build over the course of hours that she’d experienced with her two prior labors, this one came so fast it left her disoriented and uncertain of how much time had passed.
The next three hours passed in a blur as Twi arrived to help midwife the labor and her family came and went with Brem the only constant at her side. It seemed that no sooner that a contraction ended and she started to have a moment to try and catch her breath, another would start and the cycle would start all over again until one contraction seemed to blur into the next. Without the familiar rhythm she knew from her prior births, the urge to push caught her off guard and feeling like she was floundering to get her footing.
Instinct, however, took over and without the exhaustion of a long labor, she was almost surprised at how much strength she had to push. Her first daughter came quickly, quick to wail her discontent with the sudden change in surroundings with a head of dark hair that matched at least one of her mothers. The lull between the twins didn’t last long to no one's surprise given how quick the labor and delivery of the first had been. Twi had no sooner finished checking on the first girl to ensure she was healthy and stable when the urge for Sana to push again came. The first twin was handed off to Brem to finish cleaning up as the second started her journey into the world. It seemed as if she was trying to outdo her older sister’s arrival, seeming to cry louder and more intensely to announce her arrival into the world.
It was only after both twins and Sana had been settled, and the mess of the birth cleaned up that anyone had the moment to realize that midnight had come and gone. True to the joking Sana had made when she’d gotten pregnant with the girls, the Starlight gift she’d given to Brem and herself had been their daughters.
Ansabyrm and Arenbyda had been born perfect, as far as Sana was concerned. A mop of black hair was broken by ears that were much too large for them but Sana knew they’d grow into the ears eventually. She could see much of Brem in the identical twin girls, but the lovely sea green eyes they had were a surprising mix of the two of them and she knew the distinctly miqo’te ears and tail were all hers. They were beautiful and everything she could have asked for and more.
(Ayanga, Terbish and Mede belongs to @talesfromthegameff14, Bremwyda and Abylnpfef belongs to @eyesofsteelandsky, C’tolemy belongs to @ala-mhinyan, and Twi belongs to her wonderful writer!)
If you do not care what gender your roleplay partner identify themselves as.
Be they male, female, trans, or whatever else is out there.
If you are a friend, you are a friend. If we ship our muses together, we ship the heck out of our muses. I don’t care if you are a female playing male, a male playing female or whatever is inbetween.
You are precious no matter what you are. And I love you.
((CW: Dreamscapes, implied death, implied sexual situations, blood. Ayanga belongs to @talesfromthegameff14. Also, no editing because there is no god. Artwork credit is https://www.behance.net/gallery/23708749/Limbo ))
She’d lost track of the amount of times she’d drawn her brush through her hair, the motions and sounds automatic as her mind wandered. What had caught her mind in its web, however, she couldn’t remember. The more she tried to reach for the frayed fragments of thoughts, the further they seemed to drift away out of reach. It should have been a concern, but even that emotion was met with an emptiness that seemed to be nothing more than a yawning void within her.
Come to me....come for me…
The brush clattered to the ground as a wash of sensation flooded through her, stealing her world from her and leaving her adrift in it. Pain and pleasure mixed until there was neither and yet somehow both, leaving her feeling as if every nerve had been set ablaze and the fire threatened to consume her body and soul. Then it was gone, leaving her staring blankly at the mirror, her mind only vaguely aware the mirror reflected nothing in its prefect obsidian surface.
Why do you run...come to me…
She knew that voice but she couldn’t place it, her mind struggling against the silken prison that some spider had woven about it, the cocoon only growing tighter the more she fought. Why did she need to fight? Was it important? Her body moved even as she wondered at those questions, unable to decide if they even needed to be answered.
Her body wasn’t her own, she realized, watching as a passenger within that vehicle for her soul, unable to control its movements anymore than she could control where her thoughts roamed. It was with detached interest as she watched the body roam through the well appointed rooms of a house that seemed so familiar and yet why she couldn’t place anymore than anything else that seemed to drift through her mind. She should have known this place, should have known...something.
Don’t run...don’t fight...embrace me…
The world seemed to melt away from around her, leaving a black void that seemed as endless as it was suffocating. A single large leather chair remained with a table next to it, a single lamp and a bone dagger that looked so familiar settled upon the table. For a moment she tried to grasp at the familiarity of the dagger but like everything else, the memory slipped from her fingers even as she reached for it and with it any concern that might have been attached.
Embrace me...feed me...come to me…
A man sat in the chair, the soft light from the singular lamp casting hard shadows across the beauty of his features. She could have sat for hours enjoying the play of light and shade across blue skin and rich black scales and her fingers ached to feel the silk of his green hair. Heat surged through her body, curling deep in her belly and settling in her loins but the memories that fed that desire, that want for him were as elusive as any other. But more than that, she could feel him as fine, silver, silken strands of aether twined between them, woven in a deep bond that still carried even finer threads of crimson from the blood that had forged the bond.
Feed me…
He lifted the dagger to her and it was then that she realized his chest was bare, offered to her without reservation. His expression seemed lost in some sense of ecstatic euphoria, as if he’d found some great pleasure and was willing to sacrifice himself for it. He would sacrifice himself for her, that knowledge she knew innate even if she couldn’t remember why. Why couldn’t she remember?
Embrace me...feed me…
Flesh gave way easily to the blade, the well placed thrust slipping between ribs, pushing through sinew and vessels until the pounding muscle within gave way, spilling water and blood so rich it was black across her blade and hands. Instead of falling down dead, he stood there, hands cupped to gather his own blood for her and like a man dying of thirst, she drank greedily. It wasn’t his blood that she took, but the deep dregs of his aether, that living quicksilver essence of his soul. It wasn’t for her. She was just a vessel.
She turned her back to him, even though she ached to stay with him and faced the one that had been waiting for her. For a moment, she felt like he had, caught in a state of euphoria as she looked upon the sublime beauty of the creature before her. It seemed a living statue of ebony, silver and gold, it’s graceful limbs and elegant curves appeared to be crafted by the hand of a master artist, if any artist could hope to reach such heights in skill. She would have died to touch the fine threads of silver that adorned the creature's hair or to languish in the pleasure of letting her fingers trace along ebony skin and the veins of gold that flowed across it. She wanted to drown in the crimson and black of the creature’s eyes.
“Feed me…”
It’s voice was her own voice even though she knew that if she could find words to speak she’d no longer have a voice. Instead, she felt her head tilt up to it, lips parted in anticipation as the creature bent to kiss her. Where pain, pleasure and need had been hot and seared her to the bone, what she felt with this creature was an icy abyss that left her frozen to her very soul. She felt no pain, fear or concern over it, just an all consuming numbness that she wanted desperately to cling to.
As their kiss broke, she found her hands at the face of the creature and for a moment she marveled at the beauty of the obsidian and gold that started to slowly eat away at her bronzed skin. She wanted it to consume her and make her into the beauty that her creature was.
The first tendril of fear came as she looked to the face of the creature again. Instead of the creature that had been before her, she was in front of her mirror once again, her bloodied hands on either side of its silvered surface. It wasn’t the creature’s eyes that she stared into but her own, crimson irises on a black void of sclera. Everything in her wanted to scream but instead lips red with blood parted to whisper.
