The Sentinels the stars of heaven hovered, in a shimmering galaxy

@Emaleth ?!

from what she could remember of the life before this one (which she did not identify as the same), there had been one constant. for whatever reason she remembered now what she would not—to this degree—in future days to come, when she would be able to hear, and she would forget and truly die in mind for some greater purpose, which she supposed, in accepting the future, she would know of when the time of The Great Forgetting came. remembering anything made her no better in this life than any who would remember, or not; it served her no purpose but comforts to look back on.

deirdre understood she would need to get used to this grounded life, where the chill could reach her the instant her mother might depart to relieve herself. it mattered not that it lasted for only seconds; these seconds were grueling hours to the pale cub who would keen for The Givers return. she was quiet and complacent otherwise, still and peaceful. she only disputed her world shifting, and when she yowled her displeasure it was her confusion and her wonderment riddled into the highest pitch: is the one thing never enough!

but there was one beside her, her constant companion whom deirdre loved with everything in her. loved her as much as she could. this one was named emaleth, and the inkblot in her world gave her the power to progress. even she could quiet her sooner than any other; when she protested, a simple shift of emaleth was all that it took to remind her that all was well, she was here. if there was one thing that truly set deirdre into a fit of furious misery it would be when one tried to separate them. deirdre demanded that they must always be in contact in every way she could and revolted the instant this was compromised.

her wailing was but a mewl, but it was persistent. emaleth not being beside her was one change she could not endure. at present they lay side by side, and deirdre was quiet and sweet, nuzzling into her mother, sure to keep her side against her dearest and most beloved.

Although they had lived a thousand lives before this one, Emaleth, too, only remembered the life she had shared with Deirdre just days ago— warm, suspended in love, always touching the pale body directly next to her. It was a stark contrast to this life, but for the ever-present body next to hers... that she could not see, but could feel keenly. She considered this presence to be an extension of herself, and would no more tolerate their separation than Deirdre would. However dared pull them apart would be greeted with a cacophony of tiny, enraged mewls until their little bodies once more touched. Litters were always close, but Emaleth and Deirdre were closer.

The Source— that was what Emaleth would later recognize her current concept of the Father-Mother as— had the duo nestled close against its breast, and the newborns were fat with their most recent feeding. The little inkblot dozed, her lives intertwining in a mind that was still too young to comprehend the stirrings and memories of its soul. When the soul awakened, she would forget this state of timelessness— her only memories of it mere imprints, that Deirdre was good, and the Source was good, and this was safe and home— and perhaps the memories of her other lives would awaken, too.

But she knew none of this, not yet. Only that Deirdre was hers, and the Source was love and everything good, and that as long as they existed she was happy.

the youngest was slower to imprint than her elder sibling. deirdre questioned everything. it could not be helped; change frightened her. it was truly strange as she had no true ability to know good versus bad, wrong versus right, but inherently there was something in her that made her a wary thing. but as time passed she warmed to The Giver. even still she was anxious to commit to the full extent as she had with emaleth; she was committed to The Bringer who had held her. she did not yet know that they were one and the same, but she slowly connected the dots at the similarities. this life was different; she had aged to the point of death within the womb and then was brought to life in this new world.

she could lay here in comfort, feeling her sister breathe. all was well, she interpreted. the rise and fall was slow and easy and deirdre knew this was normalcy now, this meant safe. when her sisters breathing quickened, deirdre followed this lead. in their short life, this had yet to occur. deirdre squirmed even nearer to emaleth while she began to root. in no time at all she had found a teat and latched to it, deciding that food was what she needed most in the moment and complying with her bellies decree.

She grunted quietly as the body close to her began to shift and root, only briefly protesting the change in her comfort. But Emaleth was ever-patience, ever-adapting— and with a belly already full, she shifted to curl against both the Source and her sister, content to lay there and doze. The small stirrings of the feeding Deirdre were like a lullaby, and the darker child was comforted by the gentle rocking against her form. Its rhythm was a reassurance, as nearly everything in this life had been. Emaleth knew little of sorrow or pain; only that she hated to be separated from her sister, and that had become rare for their tiny cacophonies. The Source had learned.

deirdre supped quietly; milk dribbled at the edges of her lips, though The Giver was quick to amend any mess she had made. the process had been exhausting for the tiny critter, who slumped onto emaleth in a heap of exhaustion. in that moment, The Giver shifted her only slightly so that she would be no disturbance to emaleth (but so that they still touched). deirdre settled, feeling the warm breath of her sister and returning it, her mind already floating to another place.

I'm going to archive, lotsa new and less potato-y threads I want to make sure to keep up with. :)

When Deirdre settled beside her, content to nap after her feeding, Emaleth finally allowed herself to give way to slumber. She dreamt of things she did not understand; groves of trees, starry skies, ancient stones, and kingly barrows. They were mere flashes, pretty to look at, and seated within her a thirst to understand them— though as soon as she were to awake, they would again be forgotten.