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+--- Thread: Dragoncrest Cliffs while you damn the dead i'm trying to survive (/showthread.php?tid=66369)
while you damn the dead i'm trying to survive - Sobeille - September 29, 2025
still no sign of treepie.
sobeille glanced at her sleeping children, each curled around each other's toes. noses to little chests, soft bellies rising.
future killers, but for now their future was not so certain.
sobeille's shadow stole across them and broke out the grim mouth of the grotto.
* * *
she'd missed this. sobeille coursed old pathways, surprised to find new growth cluttering the footpath. once or twice she stopped as a faint whiff came to her, but no -- just her mind playing tricks in the damp and drawing close of the night.
soon, winter would come. what then? she had no network. just her and three children. she could move, seek aid elsewhere -- but something familiar wedged itself against her spine at the idea.
before she knew it, she stood atop the gravesite of sapphique and stared out at the open sea. dark waves lashed outward, disappearing around the maddening curve of the world. she imagined her ancestors lived in the just beyond; perhaps they too once stared across such vista, sombered by the beauty of their home.
for a time she listened only to the sigh of the wind and the thrum of the sea, and for a time, such rhythm matched the pounding of her heart.
RE: while you damn the dead i'm trying to survive - Tusakruŋa - November 05, 2025
the sea had been calm for a while. runa drifted where the tide could lift her up, undulating, carrying her a little bit while her toes remained caught upon the debris just shy of the surface. it had become a common habit for her to linger within reach of water — and in this case, the youngster used the ocean as an effective dissociation tank.
she thought of many things.
she imagined mother-seal, which was a figment from her early days; she thought of sand-mother, and it was in that moment the insuciant aroma of salt was broken by a familiar spice, and runa quietly begins to motor for shore.
as she dredges free, the harsh tuck of her belly and winnowing of her hips is exacerbated by the way her dark coat slicks, like oil, against her. turning her eyes one way and then another, with a swing of her head drips, and slinks, approaching the waiting sobeille.