Post by Zohartze on Jun 29, 2015 21:58:00 GMT -5
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[attr="class","pltxt"]The caverns opened from the earth like a snarling maw, the fractured earth dropping deceptively upon entering. The outcroppings existed like a labyrinth, each connected to the next. To walk to her own den meant walking past those of others—Messoria, Tala, Lichen, Xena, Datura. Each had their own particular smell, unique to the mother and their litters. But the pungent fragrance remained throughout, the underlying bloody stench of the caverns laid testament to their struggles. Each female had given birth by either Goliath or Titan, and with each litter came more behemoths.
Despite her shallow greetings upon her entry, the Mexican mixed fae sat alone in the den. Her three pups had gone to who knows where, and she heaved a sigh. Ossa would soon find her own den, and her twins would be off to the agoge by morning. Lilith had been discovered missing the day before, and it was no secret where she was headed—the brutish girl had gone on ahead, and so Zohartze knew that her boys would be soon to follow. She wondered absent-mindedly if she would stay here while they were gone, and the answer came to her decidedly like voices resounding off the walls of the cavern. No. This would be her last time in these dens.
But this was the place.
This was the place that she had toiled and bled, a warrior for Kairos in her own right. She could almost still smell the acrid iron, rusting away, forever a part of the rocky floor despite her attempts of keeping it clean.
This was the place she’d birthed her first daughter. The little thing never had a chance in the womb with three larger siblings, two of them almost monstrous. Premature, the larger pups made do, but Oeta had died shortly after birth. Goliath had buried her, and for that, Zohartze was eternally grateful. But every time she entered the dens, she was reminded of the little one who never opened her eyes to the light of day, and never would again.
This was the place she’d birthed her second daughter, Ossa, who was truly radiant if she had ever used it to describe another. She was kind, and she was mature. And she was like Zohartze in different fashions, from coloring to the kind heart she knew she once possessed. Though she had grown large, she bore a striking resemblane to Zo herself. In a way, Ossa was everything she could have hoped for in a daughter, and it made her nothing but pleased to be her mother. At first, her gut reaction was jealousy, but it faded like pawprints in the sand off the shores. Perhaps that was what it meant to be a mother to a daughter.
This was the place she’d birthed her twin boys, Othrys and Olympus. They were even more radiant than Ossa, and it made her scowl. She’d named them for their father, mountains of old, a testament to the Titans in old legend and the Olympians, two truly formidable forces of gods and even earlier deities that were, without question, enormously powerful. The two were living up to their names. They grew and grew, and with each day they had more likeness to their father and less to her. They were gorgeous, and all of the mothers spouted gossip like butterflies on the wind of their likeness to Titan. But Zohartze did see something different in the two of them—a fire, a lit fuse ready to explode in the best of ways. They had potential. But they were also insufferable, Othrys especially. He was so caught up in himself that he hardly had time to notice anyone else but his brother. And Lilith, she reminded herself with a small smile.
She never expected a goodbye from her sons. Try as she might, the small mother could simply never meet their expectation of greatness, and in part, she didn’t blame them. Datura had put it best—the boys needed their father, and he was nowhere to be found.
She did blame herself, though. Perhaps for choosing a male to plant seeds in her that would grow to be the brutish hellions her sons were—but more likely, because he had left. She couldn’t have known that he would go absent, but she couldn’t help but feel sickened by it. He may have been off with Kiva, who had also been missing for months, but no one had smelled a hair on him, and Kayi and Tala never mentioned him upon returning to Ina’mos. He had vanished, and with him, vanished every trace of her twisted, obsessive affection for him.
In fact, that part of her was nearly vanished. She still liked to hide in the shadows, still enjoyed watching the affairs of others, but when he took her that night, something broke within her. And when she birthed the pups he helped create and the only father in sight was not one of blood, that wound healed, scarred and ugly. She thought she hated him before as a pregnant female, but she had never known a mother’s hate. She hated Titan for never meeting his children, and she’d always wondered if things would have been different if he had.
The diminutive fae closed her eyes curled up against the hard walls, breathing in the cold and pressing it against her face. It had never occurred to her that she might not see her two boys again. Vor’asa was dangerous, she was told, and the thought burned her heart like the lava that had joined the territory to the mainland. She said a silent prayer to any god that might have been listening. It also hadn’t occurred to her that she would miss them.
Her love for her pups was like a vice, strangling and relentless and perseverant, though she might not have been overt. It was a love that she had never seen her own mother experience. But when her mother was drowning, Zohartze only wondered now what she was thinking. Was she imagining her pups lost and fending for themselves, and regretting? Was she lamenting the fact that she had never shown them an ounce of her love?
Have I been no better to them than she was to me?
The echo in the caverns made it impossible to tell who the pawsteps belonged to, but Zohartze pricked her ears at them. When they sounded too close to be visiting anyone else, she sighed. Her only hope was that it was Datura, and not another face come to tell her that her twins, her only two sons, had left.
tags: Olympus
words: 1121
muse: phenomenal
notes: ZOMUSESPLOSION. Also, for time reference for anyone reading this, this occurs the night after Lilith leaves for the agoge.
Despite her shallow greetings upon her entry, the Mexican mixed fae sat alone in the den. Her three pups had gone to who knows where, and she heaved a sigh. Ossa would soon find her own den, and her twins would be off to the agoge by morning. Lilith had been discovered missing the day before, and it was no secret where she was headed—the brutish girl had gone on ahead, and so Zohartze knew that her boys would be soon to follow. She wondered absent-mindedly if she would stay here while they were gone, and the answer came to her decidedly like voices resounding off the walls of the cavern. No. This would be her last time in these dens.
But this was the place.
This was the place that she had toiled and bled, a warrior for Kairos in her own right. She could almost still smell the acrid iron, rusting away, forever a part of the rocky floor despite her attempts of keeping it clean.
This was the place she’d birthed her first daughter. The little thing never had a chance in the womb with three larger siblings, two of them almost monstrous. Premature, the larger pups made do, but Oeta had died shortly after birth. Goliath had buried her, and for that, Zohartze was eternally grateful. But every time she entered the dens, she was reminded of the little one who never opened her eyes to the light of day, and never would again.
This was the place she’d birthed her second daughter, Ossa, who was truly radiant if she had ever used it to describe another. She was kind, and she was mature. And she was like Zohartze in different fashions, from coloring to the kind heart she knew she once possessed. Though she had grown large, she bore a striking resemblane to Zo herself. In a way, Ossa was everything she could have hoped for in a daughter, and it made her nothing but pleased to be her mother. At first, her gut reaction was jealousy, but it faded like pawprints in the sand off the shores. Perhaps that was what it meant to be a mother to a daughter.
This was the place she’d birthed her twin boys, Othrys and Olympus. They were even more radiant than Ossa, and it made her scowl. She’d named them for their father, mountains of old, a testament to the Titans in old legend and the Olympians, two truly formidable forces of gods and even earlier deities that were, without question, enormously powerful. The two were living up to their names. They grew and grew, and with each day they had more likeness to their father and less to her. They were gorgeous, and all of the mothers spouted gossip like butterflies on the wind of their likeness to Titan. But Zohartze did see something different in the two of them—a fire, a lit fuse ready to explode in the best of ways. They had potential. But they were also insufferable, Othrys especially. He was so caught up in himself that he hardly had time to notice anyone else but his brother. And Lilith, she reminded herself with a small smile.
She never expected a goodbye from her sons. Try as she might, the small mother could simply never meet their expectation of greatness, and in part, she didn’t blame them. Datura had put it best—the boys needed their father, and he was nowhere to be found.
She did blame herself, though. Perhaps for choosing a male to plant seeds in her that would grow to be the brutish hellions her sons were—but more likely, because he had left. She couldn’t have known that he would go absent, but she couldn’t help but feel sickened by it. He may have been off with Kiva, who had also been missing for months, but no one had smelled a hair on him, and Kayi and Tala never mentioned him upon returning to Ina’mos. He had vanished, and with him, vanished every trace of her twisted, obsessive affection for him.
In fact, that part of her was nearly vanished. She still liked to hide in the shadows, still enjoyed watching the affairs of others, but when he took her that night, something broke within her. And when she birthed the pups he helped create and the only father in sight was not one of blood, that wound healed, scarred and ugly. She thought she hated him before as a pregnant female, but she had never known a mother’s hate. She hated Titan for never meeting his children, and she’d always wondered if things would have been different if he had.
The diminutive fae closed her eyes curled up against the hard walls, breathing in the cold and pressing it against her face. It had never occurred to her that she might not see her two boys again. Vor’asa was dangerous, she was told, and the thought burned her heart like the lava that had joined the territory to the mainland. She said a silent prayer to any god that might have been listening. It also hadn’t occurred to her that she would miss them.
Her love for her pups was like a vice, strangling and relentless and perseverant, though she might not have been overt. It was a love that she had never seen her own mother experience. But when her mother was drowning, Zohartze only wondered now what she was thinking. Was she imagining her pups lost and fending for themselves, and regretting? Was she lamenting the fact that she had never shown them an ounce of her love?
Have I been no better to them than she was to me?
The echo in the caverns made it impossible to tell who the pawsteps belonged to, but Zohartze pricked her ears at them. When they sounded too close to be visiting anyone else, she sighed. Her only hope was that it was Datura, and not another face come to tell her that her twins, her only two sons, had left.
tags: Olympus
words: 1121
muse: phenomenal
notes: ZOMUSESPLOSION. Also, for time reference for anyone reading this, this occurs the night after Lilith leaves for the agoge.
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