closed starter for @schmendriiick
She’d sat there, hunched over, for hours on end. When will Schmendrick come back when will-- He always did, so there was no question as to if the magician would come home to her. Usually, they were always together, but on occasion he went into town to perform his tricks for money on his own. Recently, she’d been feeling a bit funny, and she’d stayed back in the caravan. But it was when that was the question, because she needed him now.
It’d been a fae who’d told her, for Molly Grue had always gone above and beyond to please the fair folk. She’d heard the whispers on the wind, those tiny voices, telling her why she felt ill. Why her back hurt, why her blood flow was late, all the things she would’ve easily pieced together if it were anyone but herself. You’re carrying, the soft voice had said in her ear, you’re carrying, and the magician’s wife had cried out to the sky.
Whenever Schmendrick returned to her side, Molly usually sprung to greet him with a sassy comment and kiss on the cheek. But today, she sat by the empty fire-pit, her thin hands wrung together so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Molly looked near dead, for there were three horribly missed baby ghosts that haunted her worse than any dream of the red bull, and she now stood at the cliff of unknowing.
