The days since Metaphor’s passing had seemed to all blur together. The only reason she knew time keep on ticking by was because the sun would rise and set each morning and each evening. She would maintain her patrols, protect those that needed protecting, converse with those that sought out company. Even though time was ticking by, life was nothing short of a blur. Katniss had fallen into a deep depression even though she tried to maintain herself and kept placing one foot in front of the other. There were so very few who knew her well enough to know that she was still hurting. Isra, Fable, and Finnick. Fable would find her laying on the bed of the lake, the sound of life underwater was a great distraction. Isra would know that the light that was once in her deep red eyes was gone. But for most of Night Court, no one knew just how much she was still hurting.
And perhaps what masked her depression the most was the way in which her belly had expanded. She had told no one of her pregnancy. It felt as though it was a secret that she needed to hide. She was no teenager, pregnant for the first time and still under the control of her parents. She was a mature elder, one who had given herself so completely to the one person that held her heart completely. This child was so very wanted so why did she feel as though she needed to keep it a secret? Perhaps this was the last piece of Metaphor that she had left and she was clinging to it with every cell in her body.
But even though she might not tell a soul about the child growing within her womb, her body betrayed her secret. As her pregnancy progressed, her belly began to expand. She began to grow wider and no one was a fool. No one would believe that she would eat herself to this weight when she had no appetite. The way her belly expanded was only explained by one thing: a pregnancy. Night Court citizens were smart. They knew how to calculate the months since metaphor’s death and know that this child was no one else’s but his.
And if that were not obvious enough, now her belly began to move. The child kicked wildly, making sure that his mother knew just how large he was growing. He tried to make his mother smile and while she might seem indifferent towards her pregnancy to the public’s eye, she loved the child she carried. She loved him with all the love a mother would give her baby.
And now, her pregnancy was coming to a close. Her body was preparing for birth. Her tail head was sunken in, her teats filled with milk to feed her child. Her time was coming near and soon, what she never spoke of would become a reality.
As she meandered through the markets, she looked for something special for her child, something that she could give him all his own. She pauses in front of a mirror. She stands directly in front of it, her eyes feasting over the shape her body had taken in pregnancy. While she could feel the sway of her belly, she never knew just how large it had become.
Ad as she is looking over the new glow and new curves her body seemed to sport, she raised her head to lock eyes with the individual that has come up behind her. Their eyes meet and for a moment, she is silent.
ooc: this is open for anyone! This is probably the last pregnant thread with Katniss. Someone come make her smile.
In the little over two years Kassandra had been in Novus, she'd spent most of it wandering. She did not have a name for what drove her from place to place. Whenever Oculos asked, or made a sideways comment about being tired and wanting to go home, Kass would say she'd spent four years of her short life locked up at 'home' and wanted to see the world. This was not false; there were so many things she had not discovered, seen, or experienced. Most everything was new to her, from waterfalls to mountains to thick forests, and she had an unquenchable thirst for adventure which only hitting the road and traveling could relieve.
The deeper truth of it, however, was her insatiable wanderlust was a mask, a flimsy veil to cover what rested beneath. The skeletons in her closet had blown the doors off with sulfur and smoke, and Kass had hung this pale sheet of curiosity over the blackened hole to stop their escape. Sometimes when things were particularly miserable-- when the weather was unbearably hot, or the storm loud and ferocious, or the bugs thick as the white, star-like markings on her pelt-- she thinks back to those panicked moments of flight.
She remembers, clearly, the high whooping sound of Oculos screaming to not look back, and then the quiet, shocked repetitions, as though those were the only words he had ever learned. Do not look back. Do not look back.
Did she look? She can't remember. Sometimes she's sure she did, but other times it feels like a dream. Just another terrible vision in an unending series of them. The deafening boom of the explosion, not quieted by distance; the sight of fire and smoke; the screams, the wails; the sight of her Folly Tower breaking into pieces and being scattered with other chunks of the castle, with chunks of houses, chunks of earth, and, probably, chunks of people. The whole world red and orange and black and blinding.
Was that what she saw when she maybe, possibly, turned back for one last look at Furae? At the place which had been a prison, but also home? Or was that the vision she saw yesterday afternoon when the fits had taken her and dragged her under, as they did so frequently these days?
Kass couldn't rightly discern the two.
It was this lingering question of the source of the sights in her brain-- memory or vision, relic or cursed gift-- which made her so hesitant to make a new, true home; and so, while she rightly belonged to the Night Court, and swore allegiance to Isra and all her greatness, and worshipped Caligo when she scattered herself across the sky each night, Kassandra had spent little to no time in the vicinity of the court she called home. If she never put down roots, then the predatory disaster slavering at her heels would tire itself out chasing her around, and not be able to harm anyone else.
It was hard not to come back to this place, however; in all of Novus, the Night Markets reminded Kassandra the most of home. They were full of people and bustling with activity; shopkeepers hawked wares loudly from their stalls, some hewn out of rough wood and some trapped in velvets and gold; food vendors waved treats on sticks in front of people's noses, trying to tempt them to purchase, and filling the air with delicious scents of honey and caramel, rosewater and lavender. Beyond the occasional spat over prices, the Markets were peaceful, in a chaotic, lived-in sort of way.
Furae had been like that, ever so long ago. The palace grounds below her Folly Tower never seemed empty, and, though distant, the voices of the comers and goers always eventually drifted up to her.
Oculos pressed tight to her side to stay out of the way of distracted equines and their sharp hooves as Kass pondered over a silver bauble; it was a bracelet meant for the hock, pearlescent spheres on a shining thread; shockingly gorgeous, and expensive. Kass listened to the seller explain how it would compliment her beautiful eyes with a shy smile before drifting off to the next booth, another jewelry maker, this one selling pieces made of teeth and bone.
Kassandra's eyes drifted from the cart and its grisly decorations, searching over the crowd for... nothing in particular. Her eyes came to a seller who dealt in antiquities; at the forefront of their booth was a large mirror, polished to a shine. She caught sight of her own reflection, and froze-- but it was not herself she was staring at.
She recognized Katniss as someone of high importance and status but did not know her by name; Kass had not spent much time in her home court, after all. She almost did not recognize her at all, so changed was her visage by her looming pregnancy. What Kass remembered as taut muscle was now rounded, a strong skeleton now filled with soft flesh. Kass furrowed her brow; her own mother had looked like this once, she supposed, before she'd thrown herself into the sea out of shame-- or so her uncle told her.
Her expression turned to sadness before she could remember she was staring into a mirror-- staring at someone through the mirror, almost-- and by then it was too late to fake it. She locked eyes with Katniss and froze, before shifting her gaze away.
Kassandra crossed the short distance over the market lane and came up next to the very pregnant mare. "My apologies," she began, unsure of whether or not to curtsy; the jostle of the crowd around her convinced her not to. "I did not mean to stare."She probably thinks I was gawking at her body, Kass thought, feeling a mite ashamed. "I was merely trying to place the face with a name. You are--," she faltered, trying to come up with the mare's title, and failing miserably: "someone important."
@Katniss | this got all rambly, sorry | "Speaking."
08-29-2019, 01:59 PM
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Zombie [PM] Posts: 164 — Threads: 28 Signos: 385
As Katniss looked at her reflection in the mirror, she cannot help but notice the changes in her body over the last few months. Not only is her body changing in response to her pregnancy, but she can see that there is very little life left in her eyes. Ever since her lover so tragically passed, Katniss had been locked away in a depressive state, unable to see the beauty and happiness in the world. Darkness seemed to consume her, even if she still maintained her duties as Isra’s Champion of Battle. There was a shell of the mare that she used to know, one that she hoped to see fill out a little more as soon as her child arrived. She had to be strong for her baby. She had to share with him just how much his father loved him and just how much his father wanted him. The love she had for Metaphor would be hard to describe to him, but she hoped he would see it though her actions.
And while she was silently reflecting on all these things, she can see that she is not alone. The blue roan is standing just across the isle, her eyes meeting the red void that could be described as Katniss’ own eyes. She blinks softly, her lips unable to speak. Thankfully, it is the mare who steps forward, closing the distance between the two of them.
At one point in her life, Katniss used to be the one who would greet each and every soul with a happy smile that seemed so full of life. She forces a smile as the other comes to stand alongside her, the action so desperately trying to pass as genuine. If only the woman knew the pain she lived with each and every day, she might forgive her lack of enthusiasm and forced expressions.
She apologies for staring and Katniss only gives her a silent nod. So many stared these days. Even though Katniss had never told a soul what her love with metaphor had produced, it was plainly obvious what had transpired. And if people did the math, they would realize that her child’s conception happened so soon before his death. In fact, the child that grew within her was conceived only hours before her lover’s untimely demise. “It is a natural reaction to stare…” Warriors simply did not have children. Katniss could hardly blame anyone for wondering why she had made the choice to have a child when her position of power demanded her to be ready for war at the drop of a hat. Some wondered if she could do battle in her state or if she would let her court down. Thankfully, such a choice had not come up for her. Because with Metaphor’s death, she might possibly chose this child over her duty.
As she comes to stand alongside her, Katniss turns her head ever so slightly so she might look the other into her eyes. She listens quietly as the other mentions that she was trying to place a face with a name. She recognized her as someone important, but formal introductions had not yet been made. “Please, it’s just Katniss.” Even when she had been queen, she never referred to her title. It gave unrealistic expectations and she preferred to just be upfront and real with those she served. And even know, as Isra’s Champion of Battle, she was still just Katniss.
Slowly, she looks away and back into the mirror. She sighs as she sees the way the child kicks at her ribs, her flesh jumping at the sudden attack. “Come, walk with me.” And slowly she turns and steps forward, only going a pace or two before she cranes her neck behind her to see if the other is following. After all, she does not want to leave the other behind. “Might I do the same? Ask a name to put with your face?” She had seen the woman before, but she couldn’t be certain if she actually knew her name. Katniss liked to think that she was good with names, but a lot had happened recently and her memory was less than reliable as of late.
Kassandra cannot help but feel... terrible, as she peers into Katniss' eyes; they are a deep, ponderous shade, like the maroon of dried blood, or the slightly warm ashes of a dying fire. There are lines about them, lines etched into her face, long tracks of sleepless nights, of sadness and exhaustion; each one was both a badge earned through suffering and a story waiting to be told. Kass was saddened by her gaze but she also wanted to know, wanted to ask, find out what pained Katniss so, why her eyes sunk so deep and the air around her body hung so heavy.
But that would be prying, wouldn't it? Rude and uncouth and something one did not do with a nigh-on stranger who was definitely of a rank higher than them. Kassandra imagined someone coming up to her with barely any introduction and attempting such a thing; ripping down the sheet-covered crevasse in her heart where those piles of bones sit, taking them out one by one and asking, now, who did this belong to?
The mare Kass was so rudely gawking at offers a smile, heavy on the edges; Kass isn't so well versed in the art of social graces, but there is no mirth, no trace of pleasantry in the pregnant mare's eyes, and even to one as innocent as she, it reads as false. Still, Kass imagines the art of the fake smile is a hard one to perfect, but a necessary skill for someone of any importance in the world. She appreciates the attempt at a calming gesture and responds with a smile of her own... small, shy, genuine, and apologetic.
She accepted the weight of Kassandra's gaze with simple admittance. Kass, however, had no way of knowing this woman was a warrior; it was not so strange to see Katniss pregnant it was strange to her to see anyone pregnant. Kass had never held a maternal relationship in her life. If it weren't for the steady stream of tutors sent to her by her aunt, the Queen Nethalandin, Kass would have no concept of how babies were made, at all.
Just Katniss. It seemed the mare was selling herself short, but it warmed Kassandra to be on a first-name basis with anyone. "Very well, Just Katniss," Kass quipped with some friendly youthful petulance. Her grin widened.
Just Katniss peers into the mirror again and then her side... ripples, as the being within her moves. Kass jumped a little, swaying her head back as her eyes were drawn to the spot where the tiny life within Katniss announced its existence. She apologizes with her eyes this time, smile turning sheepish and ears sinking low as Katniss begins to move away, inviting Kass to walk with her. She does, moving her own bulk up to step beside the pregnant mare. "I've never actually seen a pregnancy," she explains, hoping it will shine some light on her reactions towards Katniss' state. "My own mother died quite shortly after I was born..." she trailed off, realizing she was bringing her own weight to Katniss' already heavy world.
"My name is Kassandra," she offered when prompted, her tone lightening, "and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Just Katniss." Her smile returned and she winked. "How long until you are due, may I ask?" she said, already asking. "I imagine it must be quite exciting."
Oculos, who had gotten distracted trying to nick a low-sitting fruit from a nearby booth, realized his companion was walking away and broke off his snack quest to catch up.
@Katniss | does katniss want to adopt another baby before she has her real one lmao | "Speaking."
[/quote]
09-05-2019, 02:42 PM
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Zombie [PM] Posts: 164 — Threads: 28 Signos: 385
Pain and heartbreak was one of those things that was hard to talk about, especially with a stranger, but perhaps it was something that truly needed to be said. Perhaps in order for her to start to truly heal, she needed to rip off the bandaid and let the infection ooze. Only then could she sterilize it with alcohol. While the burn would sting initially, the wound would begin to heal. In time, it would heal and produce a new scar. This scar would not be like the ones she wore proudly against her dappled coat. This scar would always run deeper and always hurt her with the change of a season and a new milestone met by her child. That ache would always be there, but in time she would learn to ignore its painful sting.
Katniss tries to have a pleasant conversation, something to keep her mind off the baby moving wildly within her womb and the pain in her heart. It was just what she needed to survive, to heal, to begin to look at the world through different, more open eyes. Introductions were a good start and she offered the mare her name and a silent offer to just call her Katniss. She did not need to be called Katniss the Warrior, Katniss the Champion of Battle, Katniss the one who’s lover died. She just needed to be called Katniss. It wasn’t that she was selling herself short, but it was more that she did not want to seem different than anyone else. She wanted those around her to feel comfortable in her presence, not scared or uneasy. Her companion seemed to jokingly call her Just Katniss and it made the mare smile. One might have seen the words as sarcastic, but Katniss knew them to be friendly in nature.
As she looks back to the mirror, the baby within her moves, making her skin jump without control. Katniss had gotten used to the movements over the months. At first they had startled her because she had not realized that the love she had for Metaphor and that quiet moment in the creek had taken. If you knew Katniss’ past, you might know that this is her first normal pregnancy so everything was so new and different. Each movement, each change in her body was different and unexpected. But she was trying to enjoy it, trying to hope that one day she would get to meet the baby she and Metaphor had wanted so badly.
Her eyes catch the mare’s and she cannot help but smile, genuinely this time, at the way the sudden movement of her foal had caused her gaze to quickly fall to her baby where the baby was kicking. It was then that Katniss decided that a walk would do them both some good. She could stop staring at her ever growing waistline and it would offer them both time for pleasant conversation, something she knew to be quite helpful.
As they fell into step with one another, Katniss looked at the merchants as she passed them. Several were selling jewelry, clothing, trinkets. Most of it was unnecessary, but she supposed everyone liked something. Her attention was brought back to the other mare as she states that she’s never seen a pregnancy before because her mother died so shortly after her birth. “I am sorry for your loss.” It was the appropriate thing to say, something no one had yet to tell her. Not even Isra had offered that sort of sentiment. Then again, she hadn’t expected the queen to. Maybe Isra just knew that Katniss was not quite ready to hear those words again. But none of that was what they had come here to talk about. They were supposed to be discussing her pregnancy, not loss.
Katniss sighed softly as she looked to the other mare, unsure of what sort of information did she wish to allow the other to know. “This is my second pregnancy, but my first relatively normal one. I am still learning.” Only Metaphor knew that her first pregnancy had been when she was so very young and immature. She had allowed a man to seduce her and he had left her with a gift she hadn’t wanted. Her pregnancy with her twin girls from conception to birth had only lasted a few minutes, not eleven months. The delivery had been hard for the frightened mare and it had caused her to abandon her girls from the moment they hit the air, before they even had a chance to stand. It was a dark part of her history, something only her lover had known about.
And then the other is introducing herself as Kassandra. Katniss offers her a solemn smile. “It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Just Kassandra.” Her smile turns a little more playful, joking with the mare on her decision to call her Just Katniss.
And then she was asking when she was due and Katniss could not help but feel the tear roll down her cheek at the thought of her due date. “…Any day now I suspect.” Eleven months ago she had gone to the creek with her lover to give herself completely to him. Eleven months ago, she had lost him to a land mine that had been meant for her. It was guilt that burdened the mare and it was guilt that caused the tears.
Most pregnancies, she assumed, were joyful and exciting, so it did not surprise her when Kassandra mentioned that she imagined it to be quite exciting. Exciting is not exactly the world she would have used to describe this pregnancy. “More like bittersweet and painful…emotionally, speaking.” She tried not to sound so upset, not wanting the other to feel bad. Perhaps she should tell the mare why it was so painful to her, so bittersweet. “The baby’s father, my lover, died eleven months ago…” She could do the math, determine that the baby’s father died very shortly after this child’s conception. Katniss did not regret going to the creek that evening. She had wanted to tell Metaphor how much she loved him and wanted to give him her everything. They both wanted this baby so very much. So Katniss was stuck in a place where she wanted this baby because it was a part of her and Metaphor…but her heart ached knowing that he would never get to see his child.
There was a soft call of an eagle above them and Katniss looked up to find Finnick soaring just above her. He could feel the pain in her heart and he wanted her to know that he was still with her, that he would always be there for her and for this baby. While Katniss had never had a bonded before, she couldn’t help but thank the gods for helping her to find Finnick. The Harpy eagle had been the one thing that had helped her navigate through this dark era. She owed him more than she could ever say in words.
@Kassandra - Good lord the muse was rolling on this one.
