ornament of desire

Lolita Monroe · 09-21-2010, 08:58 PM

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word count: 1,357

The days she spent as of late were close to home, though she spent much of the time outside, wandering the vineyard. The fiery-haired woman did not like feeling closed in, and she had never been one for the human buildings. It had been a combination of Pippa returning to be with her and realizing that she was pregnant that had prompted her to move in to the large Victorian house in the vineyard. Winter would be arriving soon, and Lolita knew that the growing bundles inside her would need somewhere safer than beneath any tree their mother found that night. In the weeks following the realization, she had been very careful with her body. Not only that, but the creamy woman had grown to realize that she loved these unborn puppies. They had not been conceived out of love or even friendship, but that was no matter. Lolita had believed herself unable to carry children, being a dead woman, but she had managed it regardless. This made them all the more important to her.

The evening was beginning to descend, the fine fingers of darkness creeping up over the vineyard. Lolita leaned against the fence that enclosed the area surrounding the large house, fatigue sweeping through her. Her hand rested on her swollen belly, jade eyes closing tightly. She had been feeling pains all day, small and annoying, but she had not thought it necessary to find someone to help her. Lolita Monroe did not ask for help; it was not strength that dictated this, but stubbornness, but it still was there. Now, though, she wondered if it would be beneficial to call for Pippa, at the very least. She was inside the house, or so Lolita assumed, though she did not know for certain. They were still awkward around one another, especially after Lolita had confessed her pregnancy to Pippa. She suspected that certainly was not what her former lover had been looking for when she had come to this area to find her. It was certainly a surprise.

Another pain shot through her body, much sharper this time, and all thoughts of calling for help were pushed out of her mind. She would not be able to muster up enough strength to howl, as it was. She slid to her knees, using her palms flat against the ground to support herself as another pain coursed through her body. Lolita did not know anything about motherhood or birthing. What was she meant to do now? She cringed, holding in her breath for a moment as she tried to allow whatever instincts she might still posses to take over. The Dahlian woman did not know how to give birth, and she now wished she was able to use her four-legged form. In such a case, it would probably be easier, she could only assume. Lolita had never been made for motherhood; this was all too confusing for her.

Now she felt what she knew was a contraction, the first puppy coming at her fast. Lolita knew she did not have time to go into the house and she certainly could not make it up the stairs, so the Monroe woman lowered herself to the ground and let nature take its course. The process was painful for her, as she had a body frame smaller than what would be normal for a wolf. Her body took after her shepherd heritage, and Niro had been a much larger canine than her. Not for the first time Lolita was afraid of what was going to come next. She did not know what to expect, and that frightened her more than she could have possibly imagine.

While it was happening, she worked her way through each puppy as it came, cleaning and warming them to ensure there was life. The first to come was a clash of dark red and bright white, a female who so obviously took after Lolita’s own grandmother in coloring. It was a little girl, so petite and warm. Lolita pulled her close, nuzzling her gently. She looked so much like Lyra… and so much like Pippa. A strange warmth spread through her as she realized that, and Lolita held the baby girl even closer to her now. Despite the roughness right now, Pippa was the most important one in her life. To have birthed a daughter that looked so much like Pippa meant a great deal to Lolita, even if she would never vocalize it. “Poppy,” she mused quietly to herself, even as the next puppy entered the world.

The second to come was large, light gray in coloring. Niro’s fur color, as much as Lolita remembered, and a perfect match. She nudged the puppy with her nose, a lively thing that squirmed more than the first did. Now that she had named the first, she felt compelled to continue. Poppy was a lovely name, and the rest should be just as fitting. If not personal, then they should flow. “My little Magnolia,” she breathed, but the sharpness in her abdomen caused her breath to catch. The pain was worse than before, a pain that caused her to place both puppies on the ground beside her and hold her stomach.

The thing that came out, when cleaned, did not move. Lolita bathed it with her tongue, nudged it with her nose, and no matter the whining, the thing did not move. She felt regret well in her throat and tears began to prickle behind closed lids as she placed him down on the other side of her, away from Poppy and Magnolia. He was not meant for this world, it seemed. He needed a name, though, still. He needed something that flowed with the others, for he still existed in this world, even if he did not live. His name would not be forgotten. After some thought, she finally decided on something that seemed to fit. “Orchid,” she said sadly. He would never have a chance at life, and that hurt her.

She would bury him later, she decided as the next contraction hit her. The next puppy would not wait for her to have time to mourn for her lost son. This one passing hurt more than the first two, though it was in a way different than the third. It was larger and, when she worked her way through the cleaning process, Lolita was startled to find two wiggling puppies in her hands. They were a matching blonde coloring, only a bit darker than her own. The girls were twins, though the larger of the two was much more lively than the smaller. “Foxglove,” she murmured to the larger of the two. “Iris,” to the other. Then she placed them with Poppy and Magnolia, leaning herself against the fence.

The process was over, she knew, and darkness was descended entirely now. She looked sadly at the small gray bundle to her right, the sole male and the one who did not make it. The four to her left were squirming and squeaking, but she knew that she needed to tend to Orchid before she could properly care for them. She was weakened, but she lifted him in one hand and moved closer to the house. The tree near the doorway would be a suitable resting place. She placed Orchid on the ground, then set to work digging a grave deep enough that would suffice. Her heart ached, but she knew this was the way of the world. She lay him to rest and spent a moment mourning before returning to where she had left her daughters.

Lolita scooped the small bundles up into her arms, steadying herself against the fence before she began the trek back to the house. With her womb emptied and her arms filled instead, she thought she could make it up to her room. When she got there, she settled them on the bed and lay beside them. Her heart ached for her lost son, but she found joy in watching her daughters. These puppies were hers, and they needed her. She loved them, as she'd known she would.

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