Prayers for the damned
The bronze Goddess did not adapt to change very well. She had been abandoned by her own blood -- cast aside like a broken toy -- and now she was uncertain what to do with herself. She lived in a castle of strangers who did not speak her language or understand her beliefs however her hope was light aflame by the arrival of her spawns, all three of them the embodiment of perfection. It mattered little what was between her and Hannibal fore they managed the impossible, they managed to bring forth two Queens and one King with strong blood running through their veins. If anything, their accord and pact was a blessing from the Gods fore these beloved creatures that were nursing from her milk were occupying more or less her heart. This was her paradisaical prison. The three little honey bats where snoring soundly, after their bellies were filled, into their mother warm stomach; long, luxurious tail was convering half of their tiny bodice and acting like a blanket, in order to protect them from the stormy weather outside. After the labour and nurturing the cubs, sleep escaped her, and her eyes were raw and red, her expression hollow and her body somewhat gaunt from her constant prowling and refusal to rest and rare accepting of offered meals. She was lost in the new found paradise of her pups and without a doubt they will make her proud and bring glory to both their names. Klein and Ithuriel, strong lineages and they were the heirs to both thrones. Honor is written in their fate and one day they will be rulers among their own piece of land and that filled her heart with joy; however, for now, they were just three small devil chops that still required their parents constant attention and nurture. A supple sigh drifted from her lips, her muzzled lowered and expression downcast before a familiar sound creeped through the den; scent, inhaling deepling, chest rose and fell with each life giving breath. Eulogy. she purred softly, careful not to wake her younglings, before she could even gaze upon the woman. Fiery orange gaze fell upon the offered food, presented by her mans servant. She had met this girl before, long before, and she was surprised nonetheless to see her here, under a new servitude, under new duties when it was her mouth that said she was running from her Masters. Was Hannibal the master you were running from when we met? she gave voice to her thoughts, just a notch above a whisper; loud enough to make sure the woman heard her but soft enough to not wake her three devil chops from their slumber. Feed me. it was not a suggestion, it was an order. The days that followed her labour she did little but look after the cubs though the she and Hannibal were switching whenever the ivory king had to attend his duties or the autumn babe needed a breather. |
