table © Alaine
ooc: Frosty, mine wifey :3
wc: 500+
The morning light was cool and frail.
It carried the sweet scent of winter, a heralding zephyr that teased it's way through the mighty forests, danced along the rocky spine of mountains, was tossed on the waves of the ocean. Pine and snow, salt and sweet oxygen, threaded by the needles of brittle sunlight that pierced the tatters cloths hanging over the gaping maw of her window.
The woman was sitting on the bed. She'd been sitting, simply sitting, for a long time now - Since dawn, when she had awoken from a restless sleep. Dark shadows curled beneath dull, unpolished emerald eyes. Unfocused pupils gazed at the shafts of light, at the peculiarly distorted and broken ripples they made across her scratched wooden floor.
Ivory palms were folded together peacefully, like the corpses of two tranquil white doves - unmoving, listless. She could hear the breeze calling, beckoning, from beyond the curtained window. It wanted to run cool, refreshing fingers through her hair. It wanted to catch the bubbling sound of her laughter and cast it, far and wide, spreading like ripples through the sweeping plains of Cour des Miracles. And yet still the woman sat in the darkness, perched at the edge of a vicious tangle of sheets like a creamy bird with broken wing.
For a long while, it seemed as if she'd become a statue - Only the occasional shiver of pert breasts as dank air was pulled into lungs, a protrusion of collar bone as it was exhaled. The occasional flicked of narrowed pupils, watching the beams of light edge closer and closer to her neat footpaws as time slipped mercilessly onwards.
It had been two weeks since the miscarriage, adn the pack Apothecary had become a ghost, haunting the halls of the Chien hotel. Nobody had really seen her, or if they had, she'd been a fake smile and tired eyes. Nothing unusual, for the healer was a workaholic, and had been known to work herself to exhaustion before. But if she'd gifted them with the time to look closer, one might observe the hollowness of her eyes - As if the soul inside her body had been scooped out, leaving only a beautiful shell, a husk of the woman they knew.
The light had reached her toes. She felt, for the first time in 14 days, it's wane warmth. Perhaps the healing process of her heart had finally begun.
With a sudden strength, the restless wind forced it's way through the blanketed window. For a moment, brilliant, scathing light filled the tomb-like chamber - The delicate collie scrunched up her eyes as pupils shivered, trying to adjust to the sudden brilliant change of light. And the wind, why, it swelled into the room like an unstoppable tide; billowing auburn ringlets, tossing sheets, casting her shadow against the wall and pinning it there. The smells of the world invaded her den, and the woman snarled - She wasn't ready for this, not yet, she just needed more time-
There. On the wind. The seated woman froze, lowing her arms from her face where they had flown in defense. Watering emerald eyes gazed out, blindly, at the glaring sunlight as pink nose twitched. Ivory hands fell limply to her hands as a wavering smile, oh so slightly, curled about the woman's pixie maw. She knew that smell. She had craved that smell, for many months now. Just the slightest whiff of lavender, carried up to her by the relentless wind.
Had her daughter finally come home?
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