01-07-2008, 01:50 PM
She flinched visibly when Dierdre spoke about Shadow. he was raw, an open wound. She felt open on all sides today, though, so the rawness was excruciating. Shadow....spoke highly of his big sister. He loved you. It hurt to speak of the boy in the past tense. Used to, but no more. Some coyote had ended the boy's life so short, taking it away from him. Taking the spark of life out of his sky blue eyes.
Deuce moved closer to Dierdre. Her child was staying close to the den's doorway, out where the light was. Diedre wasn't a child anymore. She'd be two this february, valentine's day, the same age that Deuce had been when she'd gotten pregnant with her. So long ago...
She was somewhat slow to follow Dierdre. It seemed the girl had a lot on her mind, and wanted to get it all out. Most of their meetings had ended unhappily, perhaps she was trying to say the important stuff before Deuce flipped out again. She flinched again at the mention of Lucifer's stabwound. that fight had been on Samhain, and still was raw. or maybe it was just Deuce who was raw and unhappy.
She looked to her daughter, mismatched eyes meeting mirrored mismatched eyes. He was already gone by the time I found him....I was taking him home, to the den. I was going to lay him with his siblings, and yours. Her eyes drifted away, breaking the tenous connection. Dierdre was trying so hard...and Deuce didn't have the energy to fight. She sat down, her legs weak. Her mind replayed the events of that day, catching again and again on Shadow's torn body, the small bloody masses of the pups she'd lost, and the tears on lucifer's face. All of it was her fault.
She lifted her eyes to the form of her daughter again. Something about this struck her as humorous, and she laughed once, a note of growing hysteria in her voice. You're not supposed to take care of me...I'm supposed to protect my pups, not the other way around. but it wasn't really funny. It hurt. She could hear Shadow again, mocking her, mocking her pain. She drew her knees up to her chest, whining softly. I hurt.... It was a whisper, a plea for help. It was a mental pain, not physical. The alchohol on her breath gave up how she'd tried to medicate it away.
Deuce moved closer to Dierdre. Her child was staying close to the den's doorway, out where the light was. Diedre wasn't a child anymore. She'd be two this february, valentine's day, the same age that Deuce had been when she'd gotten pregnant with her. So long ago...
She was somewhat slow to follow Dierdre. It seemed the girl had a lot on her mind, and wanted to get it all out. Most of their meetings had ended unhappily, perhaps she was trying to say the important stuff before Deuce flipped out again. She flinched again at the mention of Lucifer's stabwound. that fight had been on Samhain, and still was raw. or maybe it was just Deuce who was raw and unhappy.
She looked to her daughter, mismatched eyes meeting mirrored mismatched eyes. He was already gone by the time I found him....I was taking him home, to the den. I was going to lay him with his siblings, and yours. Her eyes drifted away, breaking the tenous connection. Dierdre was trying so hard...and Deuce didn't have the energy to fight. She sat down, her legs weak. Her mind replayed the events of that day, catching again and again on Shadow's torn body, the small bloody masses of the pups she'd lost, and the tears on lucifer's face. All of it was her fault.
She lifted her eyes to the form of her daughter again. Something about this struck her as humorous, and she laughed once, a note of growing hysteria in her voice. You're not supposed to take care of me...I'm supposed to protect my pups, not the other way around. but it wasn't really funny. It hurt. She could hear Shadow again, mocking her, mocking her pain. She drew her knees up to her chest, whining softly. I hurt.... It was a whisper, a plea for help. It was a mental pain, not physical. The alchohol on her breath gave up how she'd tried to medicate it away.