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+--- Thread: Whitefish River our arms will bandage. (/showthread.php?tid=35993)
our arms will bandage. - Andraste - August 03, 2019
Dated 7/20. Repost-ish
Could’ve been a better mother.
If she’d begrudgingly gone with Diasporan creed, then her children might’ve been safe; Dragomir wouldn’t have ever become lost to her, nor would Isilmë have become so enraged; they could’ve remained for as long as they dared, before the pup’s nightly father returned to whisk them all away.
Should’ve been a better mother.
If she hadn’t torn her children from the only home they’d, at present, ever known, then perhaps they might’ve been content to wait some longer for the father to return, and ...perhaps not. Perhaps her own frustrations might have brewed still, and perhaps she might have stood against Stigmata’s ideals all the same — in all her misunderstandings and impulsive indigence.
I shouldn’t be a mother.
To bring them into this world, only to leave them in the paws of others to satiate her own wanderlust, her own sacrificial atonements—
But I must be.
She must be a mother, no matter how much she blamed herself for the present state of things; no matter how much her absent-minded actions had most surely brought about this disaster; no matter how much her fury and self-loathing coalesced into something aversive and hideous and made her ashamedsince it wasn’t her life at stake.
With hushedness from their post by the river, the silver portended to her lightning daughter: “Your father is ze blood that runs through my veins. Your brother is ze heart that thunders in my breast. And you, Isilmë... you are ze light of my life that guides my way. There is no way I can undo all of the foolishness that I’ve done, but... nothing on this earth or in ze heavens will ever change my love for my family. For you.”
A wearied, wisping sigh of, ”Not even if you hold me in contempt. All I can truly do is... apologize, Isi, and then begin to right my wrongs from this day onward.”
RE: our arms will bandage. - Isilmë - August 04, 2019
her thirst is what has her leave the stillness of the cave where she sulks near her brother. the scent of blood - his blood, is thick and overwhelming and she's starting to hate the rock all around, but the prospect of leaving him unguarded is scarier.
she leans over the water, starkly aware that her own mother is a short distance away. she wants nothing more than simple comfort, longs for it - but her stubbornness keeps her at tail's length. the water is cool and sweet, and soothes her throat. even though she's said exceedingly little since they found Drago, it hurts all the same. her mother begins to speak, and the shrike pauses, twisting back to glance at Aure as she speaks. most of the words her father and mother speak are simply deflected by a wall of unresolved and undirected anger, but by the stillness of the riverbank, for the first time in a long while, Isi listens.
does she love her family? she thinks so. she loves Draco, and underneath all the anger there must be love for her mother and father there too. it's just hard to reach. she mulls over her mother's words for a long moment, and then, finally, "ok." she doesn't trust her mother's words - she's long past that. but she's willing, now, to wait and see just how things unfold. she blinks at Aure, tongue slipping over her muzzle to catch a few stray drops of water. she allows her acceptance of this to hang in the air a while longer, and then asks, "when's Drago gonna be better?" she refuses to consider the alternative, or what she'd do in that case. the alternative seems impossible to imagine and so she is convinced it will not come to pass.
RE: our arms will bandage. - Andraste - August 04, 2019
“Within ze moon, if we’re to see his bodily ailments realign,” came the profession’s quiet, versed reply, “and perhaps another, and another, even, to support him in... in living again.” In walking, even breathing; returning him to a regular tempo of both. As for the afflictions to his mind, his soul, Aurëwen could only (unfortunately) imagine at what her son’s ordeal must’ve been like. “Otherwise, we can only wait. Wait, and see, and be there for him.”
A shiver went through the mother tarragon, breath misting the balmy airs through a glimpse of pale fangs; and then Aure rose, tentatively settling herself by her daughter’s side. Close, but not so close as to betray the perimeter of tail-length Isi’d put between them. “We will all heal him together—ze three of us.”
Just as when they’d arrived to the riverlands, the silver fell into a numbed, thoughtless silence. Unless her little lightning shrike spoke once more, the wispful argent would remain so. Gazing into the waters with a heavy-browed, inscrutable, yet undeniably scornful concentrated; tail feathering about with feline flicks of pensive and mind-worn.
RE: our arms will bandage. - Isilmë - August 06, 2019
she didn't much like her mother's answer - a moon seemed like aeons. she wants to know he'll be fine, that his wounds aren't that bad he'll be exactly the same. but she knows he's not - but not knowing how, exactly, is a pressing worry. when they'd first found him, on the mountain, he hadn't looked like her brother any more.
her mother neared, and she shifted her weight, but tolerated Aure's closeness. "there's nothing else we can do?" she felt obliged to hoover near him as much as she possibly could, but it was starting to feel useless, and she helpless. and there was little more she hated than feeling helpless. she loathed the feeling with all she could, and her gaze flickered to her mother's briefly. there was desperation in them, but her eyes flickered down to the river once more after a fleeting second.
RE: our arms will bandage. - Andraste - August 06, 2019
"No."
The word was tugged from her; from between fangs of a jaw set so soundly that a muscle flickered somewhere within. No, they couldn't do anything but wait — and Aure detested it as much as her shrike, as much as the father of the family must, too. Her irritance at the aspect of being rendered so helpless only furthered her tail to flick, immensly discontent with the way things now were.
After several moments' lapse, though, there was a tentative suggestion of, "But, when he wakes" — and her son would awaken, by thunder — "his mind can be strengthened. Stories, lessons, I assume, until strength returns to him." Otherwise, the silver truly had no knowing of just what to do for her child; both her children, really. There was some understanding of need to be their pillar, but, how? How could she manage to be such, when... when...?
Everything that she'd summed up and apologized and appealed for before Drago's capture came back in a rush, as if she'd not repented for her wrongdoings at all; and suddenly, she felt less than half the mother she'd ought to be in the first place. Could've, should've been. Aure rose to her paws, then, ears casting back into her wisping ruff as she looked over her bright daughter with a dimming countenance, unsure. I don't deserve to be in her presence. No. Not yet, not yet...
"Isi," the herbalist began, but pulled her scarred lip beneath a tooth; an ear flicking sullenly. "Try to sleep some, míriel. We must have ze energy, for when your brother awakes." After another pause, she took a hesitant step forth, as if wishing to kiss her daighter's brow... but thought better of it, and instead murmured a quiet, "...Noapte buna."
RE: our arms will bandage. - Isilmë - August 10, 2019
she listened to her mother's words without reacting, though mentally stored the knowledge carefully. she was still until her mother rose to move, and out of habit, glanced at her. she was tired, yes, but she doubted that if she slept now, Drago would be any better when she woke. "I'm fine." she assured, watching her mother motionlessly as she neared.
when Aure stopped, the girl felt an odd mixture of relief and dread and disappointment, all sharp and equal. Isi blinked, moving to stand, and echoed the same words back to her mother. "goodnight." louder, sharper then her mother's, made so by the uncomfortable mix of emotion. with that, she withdrew and hurried back the way she'd come, eager to get away and curl up by her brother's side.
RE: our arms will bandage. - Andraste - August 10, 2019
lov u dotter <3
And the silver watched her daughter depart from her, with as much aversiveness as Dragomir’d had when she’d had the likewise discussion with him — so soon before his capture. If she’d known what was to happen then, she... Would I have disrespected his wishes? For all that I’ve done to make my own children demur my presence?
It only took a few stuttering breaths before a low sob hiccuped from her waxen throat. And so Aure turned from herself, from her seething tears, before she retreated to the riverlands’ quartz cavern to let her woes strike against the dimmed walls entirely.
Her fated roost, she thinks, despite how it doesn’t hold the brilliance of Silvertip’s.
But... perhaps this retreat was all the better for it.