Wapun Meadow the smell of home, like sour peaches and linen
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Ooc — Chelsie
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More tired than usual. Aventus recalled the glassy sheen of Astara’s eyes in the throes of her second pregnancy. The hours upon hours she had spent lying still. The effort it had taken her even to raise her head, near the end. With no knowledge of the sickness she had borne, Aventus had attributed it all to pregnancy. Arielle admitting to being more tired than usual was enough to strike the mortal fear of all the gods into him.

For Aventus, it all but confirmed her status.

With the taut air of a weary professor pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, Aves sank to the earth and pressed his head into his arms. The smell of warm loam and new growth was bracing, but not enough to quell the rocking tumult of his soul. He wanted to believe her, but Arielle always worked hard. She was always busy. What do we do? he groaned into the ground.
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RE: the smell of home, like sour peaches and linen - by Aventus - April 29, 2022, 09:14 PM