Post by Messoria on Oct 20, 2015 0:01:40 GMT -5
In the beginning, during the rare moments that she found herself alone, Messoria allowed herself to grieve for her daughters. They were not dead – not that she knew, anyways, but the mother did not like to think of that – and yet they were not with her, either. It was when she lay in the dark recesses of the cavern at night, or when she enjoyed a solitary swim, that she allowed herself to think of them. And she allowed herself to worry. Morrigan and Nimue had departed from Ina’mos some time ago, and there was not a day that passed when Messoria did not think of them. She did not mope in public; no, the Consort could not allow herself to be seen as weak, and so if anything she had become fiercer, more regal, more everything that showed she was strong. But in her heart of hearts, Messoria knew she could not forget the daughters born of her first litter. She knew very well what became of those branded as traitors to Kairos. She knew that she would have more sons, more daughters. And she knew that there was little she could do except vow to remember, and allow herself her private moments to miss them.
It got easier, with time, and yet harder at the same time. Easier because her thoughts were often consumed with her sons, who would soon depart for the agoge, and Fawn, her remaining daughter who was blossoming into a beautiful femme. Harder because she found that she blamed herself for their departure. Perhaps if she’d been a sterner mother, despite the fact that she’d been far from compliant, things might have ended differently. Messoria knew, of course, that the blame was placed upon her shoulders by herself and no others, and yet still. It would be different with her future children; it would be different, even, with her current.
Tonight, the Consort did not wish to think of such things. The cool autumn evening found the svelte she-wolf perched daintily beside the rippling pool of crystal water that had become a frequented location of hers; now that it was not sweltering out, but also not yet frigid, often times the femme slumbered before the falls. A canopy of crisp leaves swayed gently in the breeze far above her, varying in brilliant shades of gold, crimson, and sunset orange. The stars were faintly visible even higher still, and rays of milky light from the full moon winked through the patterns in the leaves. Her smoldering eyes, a hue that might be achieved if one mixed the gold-and-crimson of the autumn leaves, did not once leave the ripples that moved across the surface of the water as she thought.
Autumn had come upon them so swiftly, and soon enough Ina’mos would be ripe with females in their prime once more. She, of course, knew that she would give birth to her second litter fathered by her Emperor and mate. The thought stirred a mixture of emotions within her; longing to be with him once more, but a detached resignation for the agony that she knew would come. And Ina’mos would be full to the brim with squealing, stumbling pups once more. The thought brought a wry smile to her ebony-lined lips.
In the distance, the cicadas began their nightly symphony, and Messoria’s velvety ears sat prim and perked atop her cranium. Still her visage did not turn from the water; she was as dark as a shadow here beneath the canopy, the only indication that she was present being the places where the moon caught the chestnut streaks in her fur until they shone almost crimson…and her eyes, nearly luminescent despite the darkness that danced within them.
Watching, unwavering, she sat as if waiting for something that would never come.
It got easier, with time, and yet harder at the same time. Easier because her thoughts were often consumed with her sons, who would soon depart for the agoge, and Fawn, her remaining daughter who was blossoming into a beautiful femme. Harder because she found that she blamed herself for their departure. Perhaps if she’d been a sterner mother, despite the fact that she’d been far from compliant, things might have ended differently. Messoria knew, of course, that the blame was placed upon her shoulders by herself and no others, and yet still. It would be different with her future children; it would be different, even, with her current.
Tonight, the Consort did not wish to think of such things. The cool autumn evening found the svelte she-wolf perched daintily beside the rippling pool of crystal water that had become a frequented location of hers; now that it was not sweltering out, but also not yet frigid, often times the femme slumbered before the falls. A canopy of crisp leaves swayed gently in the breeze far above her, varying in brilliant shades of gold, crimson, and sunset orange. The stars were faintly visible even higher still, and rays of milky light from the full moon winked through the patterns in the leaves. Her smoldering eyes, a hue that might be achieved if one mixed the gold-and-crimson of the autumn leaves, did not once leave the ripples that moved across the surface of the water as she thought.
Autumn had come upon them so swiftly, and soon enough Ina’mos would be ripe with females in their prime once more. She, of course, knew that she would give birth to her second litter fathered by her Emperor and mate. The thought stirred a mixture of emotions within her; longing to be with him once more, but a detached resignation for the agony that she knew would come. And Ina’mos would be full to the brim with squealing, stumbling pups once more. The thought brought a wry smile to her ebony-lined lips.
In the distance, the cicadas began their nightly symphony, and Messoria’s velvety ears sat prim and perked atop her cranium. Still her visage did not turn from the water; she was as dark as a shadow here beneath the canopy, the only indication that she was present being the places where the moon caught the chestnut streaks in her fur until they shone almost crimson…and her eyes, nearly luminescent despite the darkness that danced within them.
Watching, unwavering, she sat as if waiting for something that would never come.
NOTES: I felt like posting with Messoria soooo...open to anyone.
WORDS: 635
WORDS: 635