MAKE A WISH UPON A STAR
03-27-2014, 08:04 PM
Hephaestus
Warm and safe in his mother's womb, just one squirming shape surrounded by other squirming shapes, he was content. He didn't realize he was content, or what that even meant, until his serenity was interrupted by a subtle squeezing motion. Not like the kicks of the other squirming shapes he had been enduring since the confines of their world had shrank around them, no. As time passed - though he had no real concept of time - the squeezing grew harder, more uncomfortable, but he could not squirm away from it. It squeezed him against the other squirming shapes, pushing him, forcing him into a smaller tunnel away from the squirming shapes who had long been his comfort until he couldn't even kick in protest any longer.
A moment of crushing, squeezing terror, and suddenly he was freed of the tunnel. Freed, but not returned to his squirming shapes and the comfort of his watery world - suddenly the world was huge, and cold, and lonely, and he cried for his squirming shapes. Where were they? Where was he? His voice rose for the first time in a squeaky, lonely wail as he discovered air flooding his lungs for the first time instead of fluid. What was this? What was happening?
Something prodded his squirming form and he flailed in protest, but the prodding continued to guide him. What was this warmth? This soft, fluffy warmth that tickled his nose and made him sneeze? It was not like the liquid warmth of his world but it awoke an instinct in him, and he rooted around in the soft fluffy warmth until he could latch on to something. And suddenly warmth! In his mouth! Delicious sustenance! He settled down to nurse with a single-minded seriousness.
"Speech"
A moment of crushing, squeezing terror, and suddenly he was freed of the tunnel. Freed, but not returned to his squirming shapes and the comfort of his watery world - suddenly the world was huge, and cold, and lonely, and he cried for his squirming shapes. Where were they? Where was he? His voice rose for the first time in a squeaky, lonely wail as he discovered air flooding his lungs for the first time instead of fluid. What was this? What was happening?
Something prodded his squirming form and he flailed in protest, but the prodding continued to guide him. What was this warmth? This soft, fluffy warmth that tickled his nose and made him sneeze? It was not like the liquid warmth of his world but it awoke an instinct in him, and he rooted around in the soft fluffy warmth until he could latch on to something. And suddenly warmth! In his mouth! Delicious sustenance! He settled down to nurse with a single-minded seriousness.
"Speech"
Olympus