Lion Head Mesa she's imperfect, but she tries

this is long, and probably one of my last posts—feel free to pp her how Tavina would care for her

Now.

Her voice was sharp and decisive. She devoured the mixture, wincing at the taste but gulping it down nonetheless. All the while, her mind and body warred.

And Sheogorath. . .

—

"No."

—

Hours passed under the gaze of the healer. A sharp pain in her stomach. She sat, panting, feeling blood pool beneath her hindquarters.

— 

"NO!"

— 

She laid down, gasping, going into near convulsions. Back arched. Blood coming. Vomit, too.

—

"You and yours are MINE."

—

Seizure again, contorting her body in unnatural form. Blood in a grisly halo 'round her body. Eyes rolled back. 

No babies came, dead or alive.

They remained.

As did she.

—

"I have willed it."

—

Sleep, after a while. Too light-headed to stand. Fur spattered with awful fluids.

Failure. She was used to it.

Motherhood. She was used to its failure.

And yet—