[P] [M] [LCS] sand in your head like water in my hands.
#1

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

Specifically, this thread is marked mature because of: drug usage..

wc- 654
Lyubov, set before lure coursing. .


Morrigan moved slowly this morning, head full of strewing thoughts. She felt rather then saw the deep bags under her eyes and knew then that the day would be long and hard, but that it must be done. A lit joint was tucked within her teeth, and she puffed on it while tidying up the chaos that had become her little familys cabin. Soon, a comfortable layer of haze built up – shielding the hybrid completely from thinking too hard about anything. It was easier then, to look at her children with love and commit to the role of mother properly.

Honeychile was still stumbling over learning her name, but had taken on her brothers with devilish delight. “ Beg-net! “ She cried, stumbling over to her sootier sibling and bowling him over with ease. He grunted in response and began chewing on her ear, earning a squeal from the cinnamon-colored princess. “ Be gentle, Honeychile. “ Morrigan reprimanded from her place in front of a broken mirror, ignoring Beignet’s retaliation. It’d be good for her daughter to learn boundaries, anyhow.

After combing out the snarls that formed within the Witches curly mane, she turned to both her children and forced a smile and that light they looked for into her eyes. The joint had been smoked through some time ago and Morrigan fumbled about before finding a replacement, lighting it and scooping up both children. Both of them were getting larger, and spent most of the day running around wrecking things. If the Heart wasn’t rescuing dried ingredients from being wrongly consumed by curious mouths, she was wrestling important tools from their needle-sharp teeth.

Sighing exasperatedly at the ensuing struggle taking place in her arms, Morrigan stopped and plunked them down into a saddlebag each,  clasping the side so only either of their heads were poking out. Tapping each of her children on the nose with a smile, the Witch slipped on her utility belt and found her hand drifting towards that wooden flask and what was kept within it. She popped it open and sipped from it, almost excited for the opium to numb her further.

The less she could think, the less those awful thoughts entered like thieves in the night to steal her children away from her. Morrigan had to hope the urges she’d get would pass, and with a pasted on smile the coyote picked up each puppy and finally left the house, tacking up Barclay and riding towards Charmingtown. In no hurry, the Witch took her time riding so the cocktail of substances she’d imbibed this morning had time to truly seep into her bones and calm her heart.

Eventually, fields gave way to buildings and she entered the fringe – noticing how the traffic picked up immensely. The closer she got to Charmingtown proper, the more Luperci appeared to be milling about. Barclays hooves clopped over gravel and he snorted as both puppies began to howl – protesting their current predicament. “ It’ll be fine Barclay, we’re almost there and then I won’t subject you to this any longer. “ Morrigan sighed, patting the bays neck. Once they had arrived at the Triage tent, the Witch slipped out of the saddle and felt her stomach lurch with the shift in gravity.

Blinking a few times, Morrigan caught her balance and shook her head – focusing on untacking the horse and wrestling with two puppies now working in tandem. It took her longer then normal to untack her horse, though from the outside she just looked unhurried if somewhat distracted.

After taking the stallion to the stable, the Witch returned and began to organize the supplies present, making smudged notes on parchment the inventory. As a mother, she’d now gained the ability to ignore her childrens playfighting and did so now – stepping over each puppy carefully as they threatened to ran smack into her leg, a squirming pile of yips and growls.

[Image: 7HdY84l.png]

From my ROTTING BODY, flowers shall G R O W, and I am THEM & that is E T E R N I T Y.


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