Stavanger Bay Daylily

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Light body horror

Reverie awoke to a strange feeling, one she did not quite process at first. Warmth; pressure at her midsection, and for a moment she almost felt as if she and Blossom had never parted, as if her daughter was still some secret brimming part of her. And there was fear in it, because this was not a beautiful feeling. It was — a heaviness, an alien discomfort rooted deep inside of her, something under her skin that was not her —
The reality was a far greater horror.
As Reverie lifted herself to check on Blossom, she cried out; she looked down and her skin was all wrong, dark stained, bruises like pooling ink all blurred edges and blueblack and
she gagged on her own sharp breath. It hurt to move it hurt to cry it hurt to breathe; with each small shift of her body she felt the stiff roll of abdominal muscles, the clench of protest, tension building into one long shrieking note of pain. Reverie was very still, and eventually the white-knuckled grip of it subsided to a throb, and then to a dull ache. But the pain did not leave.
She breathed and steadied herself, dried her tears. She looked again and saw that there were no bruises, that her skin was unchanged. Still the pain did not fade, and Reverie knew that this part was real. She took in a breath and steeled herself.
Then she went to tend Blossom, wincing here and there. She did not let herself cry again until the sun was setting and Blossom settled, and she was alone with the dread and the grief. And she did not let herself wish for @Lestan.