five weeks of silence. still, unmoving, silence.
the wispmother lay alone in her den. her days consist only of thoughts of the babes that grew within her. she worries for them. she worries that the night of their birth will end just as the night her firstborn — her melena — ended. in stillness.
something moved within her. after weeks of nothing, something moved. it kicked, clawed, gnawed at her insides. they did. the time had come
hours passed. the wispmother lay in a pool of her own blood. three babes fed feverishly at the teat. she stared at them with a half-lidded gaze.
in that moment she thinks nothing.
and as she uttered the name of the mother who existed no longer, a pain pierced through her. more intense and searing than what came before. am endless flow of screams tore through her throat. the lonely island came to life with the sounds of her agony. it lasted no less than hours, until finally her mouth was sewn shut.
at her rear lay the last child. red, blood soaked. its flesh sunken towards the bone. it mewled weakly for the wispmother. she only stared, wide eyes full of tears and lip quivering.
the wispmother lay alone in her den. her days consist only of thoughts of the babes that grew within her. she worries for them. she worries that the night of their birth will end just as the night her firstborn — her melena — ended. in stillness.
something moved within her. after weeks of nothing, something moved. it kicked, clawed, gnawed at her insides. they did. the time had come
hours passed. the wispmother lay in a pool of her own blood. three babes fed feverishly at the teat. she stared at them with a half-lidded gaze.
in that moment she thinks nothing.
mephala, emā blessed nyke.a hint of disbelief in her whisper even now as she stared at these children.
mephala…
and as she uttered the name of the mother who existed no longer, a pain pierced through her. more intense and searing than what came before. am endless flow of screams tore through her throat. the lonely island came to life with the sounds of her agony. it lasted no less than hours, until finally her mouth was sewn shut.
at her rear lay the last child. red, blood soaked. its flesh sunken towards the bone. it mewled weakly for the wispmother. she only stared, wide eyes full of tears and lip quivering.
iksā va moriot lēda nyke mephala,she choked. her face twisted into a scowl.
va moriot kesīr naejot tourment nyke syt ñuha past.
happy bday @Morgra @Isangrim @Ptolemy :) @The Listener is welcome to join, otherwise this thread is private
March 01, 2022, 12:29 PM
The realization of her existence came with the beckoning of invisible hands; they squeezed and pulled. The hands were not gentle; she felt their urgency and their demand as they grasped her and pulled her from the darkness and warmth. She didn't understand anything that was happening. All she knew right then was fear, it caused her to wriggle in resistance. But she was too weak and the hands too strong; eventually she succumbed to the force as it pried her from the world she had only just acknowledged and thrust her into the cold unknown.
Morgra cried softly as the cold air covered her and filled her lungs. Her sounds were not loud, nor did they beg for anything from the world. She merely wanted an end to her suffering.
She didn't have to wait long for warmth to surround her again, and then a rich scent urged her to root around and latch on to something. She filled her belly until she could no longer take in anymore. She felt warm all over and promptly fell into a deep slumber. The struggle happening around her went completely unnoticed.
Morgra cried softly as the cold air covered her and filled her lungs. Her sounds were not loud, nor did they beg for anything from the world. She merely wanted an end to her suffering.
She didn't have to wait long for warmth to surround her again, and then a rich scent urged her to root around and latch on to something. She filled her belly until she could no longer take in anymore. She felt warm all over and promptly fell into a deep slumber. The struggle happening around her went completely unnoticed.
March 08, 2022, 07:48 PM
Isangrim wasn’t brought into the world with fanfare. Not confetti, or explosions, or explosions of confetti, or even explosions of spiders like he’d very specifically wanted.
No. He just slid out, on the heels of Morgra, as if grabbing for them, chasing her out of the womb as he’d no doubt chase after her in life. Nope, he didn’t get his spiders.
He would rather have enjoyed a refund, actually. This? This was bullshit, and he attempted to call for a manager to rectify his situation, the barbarism of there being no spiders, the-
And then the teat touched his gaping, squealing maw, and instinct rode out what little there was in his tiny skull as he fed, then dropped into sleep.
No. He just slid out, on the heels of Morgra, as if grabbing for them, chasing her out of the womb as he’d no doubt chase after her in life. Nope, he didn’t get his spiders.
He would rather have enjoyed a refund, actually. This? This was bullshit, and he attempted to call for a manager to rectify his situation, the barbarism of there being no spiders, the-
And then the teat touched his gaping, squealing maw, and instinct rode out what little there was in his tiny skull as he fed, then dropped into sleep.
March 09, 2022, 02:25 AM
it was time.
the listener kept her distance until she could bear it no longer. until the wispmother's shrieks finally died to silence. she knew that it was done. the children... her children.
the prophet swept into the den like a frigid night breeze, imposing and wild-eyed. her hackles stood feral and razored, her gait stiff as she strode forward to gaze upon the children of her soul. the wispmother, reduced from mentor to mere conduit, faded into the background.
her eyes found the red child. red, red, the color of lies; the color of betrayal.
an ivory flash of teeth, a scarlet slash of blood. the prophet lashed out, and the sacrilegious little life was snuffed in a brutal instant. its blood sprayed across its untainted siblings, staining damp grey fur and marking the tiny bodies in garish crimson.
true druids from first breath, baptized in the blood of sin given life.
and the prophet flung the body away, creeping close to lay beside the newborns, to smooth her tongue over their strange smooth heads and murmur the secrets of the aether to their budding souls.
the listener kept her distance until she could bear it no longer. until the wispmother's shrieks finally died to silence. she knew that it was done. the children... her children.
the prophet swept into the den like a frigid night breeze, imposing and wild-eyed. her hackles stood feral and razored, her gait stiff as she strode forward to gaze upon the children of her soul. the wispmother, reduced from mentor to mere conduit, faded into the background.
her eyes found the red child. red, red, the color of lies; the color of betrayal.
no,she whispered. louder,
no!not her, not that bitch, not on these holy islands — !
an ivory flash of teeth, a scarlet slash of blood. the prophet lashed out, and the sacrilegious little life was snuffed in a brutal instant. its blood sprayed across its untainted siblings, staining damp grey fur and marking the tiny bodies in garish crimson.
true druids from first breath, baptized in the blood of sin given life.
you have done well, wispmother.
and the prophet flung the body away, creeping close to lay beside the newborns, to smooth her tongue over their strange smooth heads and murmur the secrets of the aether to their budding souls.
March 10, 2022, 04:10 PM
the listener appeared at the mouth of the den. their form blotted out whatever moonlight managed to trickle within. all the wispmother could see was her mispaired eyes.
they were fixed upon the sickly child.
quietly she whispers
she craved an end. she was too weak to take it for herself. so again she whispers
louder now.
she screamed as her daughter rushed forward and took the whelp by the throat. she cries aloud as its blood sprayed upon the furs of the babes.
the wispmother would be unforgiven, but she was free. relief washed over her as she stared upon the corpse, then her head fell backward. she laughed.
they were fixed upon the sickly child.
quietly she whispers
melena..her voice was strained out. exhausted. she was so exhausted from the mother’s torment.
kill it..
she craved an end. she was too weak to take it for herself. so again she whispers
kill it.
louder now.
kill it.louder, louder, louder. the wispmother screamed in agony now.
kill it, kill it, KILL IT.
she screamed as her daughter rushed forward and took the whelp by the throat. she cries aloud as its blood sprayed upon the furs of the babes.
the wispmother would be unforgiven, but she was free. relief washed over her as she stared upon the corpse, then her head fell backward. she laughed.
March 29, 2022, 03:03 PM
lost.
the wispmother was lost; to herself, to her role, to her madness.
and the listener saw now that she had always been this. she had never been a speaker, not truly; only a placeholder, a precursor to the role. an anticipation of what was to come.
she had always been the wispmother.
the listener went to her then, soothing her with sweet words of comfort. when sleep took her from the world of the waking, the children would be cleaned. fed.
and swept away into the darkness, to rest with their true mother.
the wispmother was lost; to herself, to her role, to her madness.
and the listener saw now that she had always been this. she had never been a speaker, not truly; only a placeholder, a precursor to the role. an anticipation of what was to come.
she had always been the wispmother.
the listener went to her then, soothing her with sweet words of comfort. when sleep took her from the world of the waking, the children would be cleaned. fed.
and swept away into the darkness, to rest with their true mother.
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