02-05-2010, 04:45 PM
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Word Count: 491
I am a part of all that I have met
Her head still ached from time to time, and she knew better than to touch the wounds on her right side. The ear was completely covered in bandages, but she had removed them once to take a look. This vision was something she tried to keep out of her head, and spending time with others was one way to do this. Even now, despite the disappointment she had gained in the world, and despite the pains that pulsed from her limbs and her heart and her head, her children put a smile on her face. She did not feel alone, though perhaps now was one of the times she was more alone than ever. Isolated by necessity, not by choice, was a wholly different experience, though Mew trusted her aunt fully. Still, she did feel babysat from time to time. That part of her identity, the one built through years of walking and traveling in solitude, with nothing but herself and mother nature as company, was suffering now, between the four man-made walls that made her room. That part of her did not feel alive, and she had a great urge to go outside to see. The wound was better every day, and she already knew she was strong enough to shift, even if she had not yet actually tried it. Surely, a trek on four legs couldn't be that bad; she knew she was strong enough! It was just a matter of convincing Hanna. But when it came to the most important aspect of her life, the one she had defended at a great cost many times, it was not suffering at all. She had more energy now than right after the injury, and she was certain the children noticed. Still, she could not play as she had used to, but at least now she could give them the attention they craved without struggling for breath and moaning in pain every time she blinked.
She sat against the wall as usual, but her hands worked on strings for her guitar, twisting and molding sinew into usable strings. It had seen little attention while she was sick, but not now. Now, everything was better, except the shattered remains of her trust in her family bonds, and the constant guilt that gnawed her every second she was idle. Raising her head, she called out for her daughter, who had been there only moments before, while her fingers continued to work on the sinew. She did not need to keep her gaze constantly on it; she had done this many, many times. Her voice was quiet, but there was a hint of dominance in it as well. Now that Mew was stronger, her instinct was stronger too, and any mother had the need to always know where their children was. These were times of war, and after she had heard what had happened to Alexey's home she was all the more concerned. "Keeleigh?"
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Word Count: 491
Her head still ached from time to time, and she knew better than to touch the wounds on her right side. The ear was completely covered in bandages, but she had removed them once to take a look. This vision was something she tried to keep out of her head, and spending time with others was one way to do this. Even now, despite the disappointment she had gained in the world, and despite the pains that pulsed from her limbs and her heart and her head, her children put a smile on her face. She did not feel alone, though perhaps now was one of the times she was more alone than ever. Isolated by necessity, not by choice, was a wholly different experience, though Mew trusted her aunt fully. Still, she did feel babysat from time to time. That part of her identity, the one built through years of walking and traveling in solitude, with nothing but herself and mother nature as company, was suffering now, between the four man-made walls that made her room. That part of her did not feel alive, and she had a great urge to go outside to see. The wound was better every day, and she already knew she was strong enough to shift, even if she had not yet actually tried it. Surely, a trek on four legs couldn't be that bad; she knew she was strong enough! It was just a matter of convincing Hanna. But when it came to the most important aspect of her life, the one she had defended at a great cost many times, it was not suffering at all. She had more energy now than right after the injury, and she was certain the children noticed. Still, she could not play as she had used to, but at least now she could give them the attention they craved without struggling for breath and moaning in pain every time she blinked.
She sat against the wall as usual, but her hands worked on strings for her guitar, twisting and molding sinew into usable strings. It had seen little attention while she was sick, but not now. Now, everything was better, except the shattered remains of her trust in her family bonds, and the constant guilt that gnawed her every second she was idle. Raising her head, she called out for her daughter, who had been there only moments before, while her fingers continued to work on the sinew. She did not need to keep her gaze constantly on it; she had done this many, many times. Her voice was quiet, but there was a hint of dominance in it as well. Now that Mew was stronger, her instinct was stronger too, and any mother had the need to always know where their children was. These were times of war, and after she had heard what had happened to Alexey's home she was all the more concerned. "Keeleigh?"