Hushed Willows Mythic

Tucked away. That was what she needed to be, now. Hidden from everything. It is perfect for her right now. She listens to him speak, and then feels a tremble in her skin when he moves in to comfort her; it has been a while since Reek had performed any sort of contact with her that wasn't a direct result of his own self-pity, his own sadness, his own anything, and Tavi doesn't know what to do when Arkham makes contact with her. It is foreign, and in her current state she finds it more than unwanted. But he speaks to her too, tries to calm her, and Tavi remembers that this is not the grotto. Reek is back there with the home that he built — and she is here, creeping towards the bosom of a stranger's backyard.

Arkham's many questions are met with an uneasy silence, as if each syllable must be absorbed and translated before Tavi can do anything with them. It takes a little longer than normal for her to process things but when she does, she is smiling again. Maybe it is just to stop herself from being sick — grinning pulls the face muscles in such a way as to counter the gag reflex, you see — because something inside of her is moving again, kicking at her from the inside out. She lets out a brief, Ooph, and staggers, her head lowering and then turning slightly to watch her swelling sides.

I think we need to rest. She finally murmurs, speaking with plurality so as to reference the unborn. The sensation gradually ebbs, and so too does her smile.