.... Like playing dead, Cercelee lay next to her sleeping mate unmoving, scarcely breathing. The only real sign of life from the Rosea was the occasional blink of her eyes as she watched the piebald male breath heavily in his sleep. In and out went the breath, up and down went his chest. This wasn’t the first time she caught herself doing this, wondering what dreams Slay had in the long hours he slept, but even so she was ashamed to catch herself doing it at all. The male beside her slept often, increasingly so ever since his attack by Corvus, and Cer more and more waste vast amounts of sleep watching him. She watched him before she went to sleep herself, and again when she awoke, and even during the day when she just happened upon him. In their bedroom of the church, asleep. It was where he always was, and where Cercelee too seemed to find herself much of the time. ....The crash from the rooms of the church were quite audible and Cercelee raised herself, alive once again, and furrowed her brows. The puppies. The de Sadira children. Her wards. Her children. Despite the lack of activity from their surrogate father, they were as active as ever, Avarice and Roulette rambunctious and rowdy, Catalyst and Palindrome thoughtful but still a handful. Extracting herself from the blanket of depression Slay cast over the room, Cercelee made her way slowly through the kitchen, the back room of the church, and then into the main hall, where years ago people worships but now puppies played. On the floor was a tin collection tin and coins, now useless in a world where money meant nothing, and no sign of the careless children who had spilled them just moments before. The large wooden door was ajar and the rain came in where the children must have gone out at. ....Outside she didn’t even bother to track the two, knowing Avarice and Roulette did not care to be found, but instead moved along at a leisurely pace, her pelt soaking through and that was perfectly fine. The summer air was warm, so despite being wet she was not cold. Cercelee passed the vineyards that surrounded her home and was soon to make her way to Wolfville had she now scented Palindrome by chance. It was harder in the rain, the scent being washed away rapidly, but soon enough she was at the entrance, looking in, at the tiny male crouching. Seemingly pressed there by some force Cercelee could not see. "Palindrome? What are you doing?"  |
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