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estdeus_innobis2010-07-18 06:52 pm
al-shairan.livejournal.com) wrote in estdeus_innobis2010-07-18 06:52 pm
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“It is a wise father that knows his own child.”
You're starting up and I'm winding down;
Ain't it big enough for us both in this town?
Say it's big enough for us both in this town.
When I was your age I thought I hated my dad
And that the feeling was a mutual one that we had;
We fought each other day and night:
I was always wrong; he was always right.
Friday, January 29th
My mood after seeing Gaueko was more sanguine. Sanguine, yes, after Gaueko's gift of flesh and blood, but most importantly of his soul. I can taste the meat of him on my tongue if I think on how I put my lips to his bloody stump, but beyond that I can feel his soul like a small star.
Our conversation has lent me enough calm that I will no longer pose a risk of immediate death to any man I meet, and so I shrug on the fleshsack that is the Kent body, frowning at the ease crease of it around me, and I go off to see my wife. I have a child to look to, after all, and a world of planning.
I stroll down Main Street, and a few people greet me as Mr Whitman. I smile and nod to them, hands in my pockets, and I agree to pass their best wishes on to Wanda. And then I push open the door to the Dormouse. A couple of ladies sit by the window sipping tea, and I smile at them and go up the counter.
"Wanda, my dear," I call out, unzipping my leather jacket as a man would after coming in from the cold. My smile, which the women do not see, is a shard of ice.
[open to Wanda]
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I don't bother moving for a few moments. Merely lay atop of him, studying his glassed over eyes, blue tinged lips. I suppose I should be more unnerved by this, by killing a man mid-coitus, but I am not. I know he can come back to me, to knit this broken and abused body back together. I begin to wonder how long it will take him to do just that though; for the body is beginning to grow cold on the floor, and I am more than a little uncomfortable. Perhaps if I go wash up and change, he will have returned by then.
I place a kiss against his shoulder, sit up and am sliding off of my presently dead husband, when another feeling over takes me all together. A sense of upset, of almost panic. But why? I know I can't really hurt...
OH!
The little heartbeat is so very fast within my ears and I try and send a wave of reassurance and love to the baby. Stupid woman, I never thought...
I touch my hand to the slight swell of my stomach and stoke it. "Shhh... shhhh... it's alright. It was just a game your daddy and I play together, I promise. He's here little imp, he's here..." I sigh softly, picking up Kent's lifeless hand and bringing it to lay against my skin, hoping he decides to come back sooner than later.
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My girl is precocious.
I stretch back into the body, heart giving a sharp, hard thud back into life, and as blood slowly starts moving through these veins again I feel that Wanda has put my hand to her stomach.
"I am here," I confirm, opening my eyes. I sit up, and I stroke the curve of Wanda's expanding belly. "Daughter mine, I cannot be killed so easily." I feel the child's heartbeat slow a little, and I smile at Wanda. "She is special already, is she not?"
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Once he assures our daughter that he is made of sterner stuff, she calms.
"She is special already, is she not?"
I cover his hand, and lay my head on his shoulder as I feel my energy waning. "Yes she is my love. I cannot wait to meet her." I say quietly, realizing that I will have to take great care with her if she is this aware already. "This may seem like a silly question, but do you think she can hear us?" I ask, my lips quirking up a little. "It seems obvious she can feel us." I remark, trailing my fingertips in a pattern over the back of his hand, still stroking the spot I can feel her occupy.
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"Oh, she can hear us. How much she yet understands..." I tilt my head. "That remains to be seen. But she is growing faster than an ordinary child would, and I think she will be clever indeed." I move my thumb over her stomach, and inside her the child moves again. "And she recognises her blood," I say. "Yes, I think she will know a great deal more than one might expect."
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"Late March, if the midwife is to be believed. She will be here in roughly two more months." I say offhandedly, realizing I have to start changing the guest room into a nursery. "And of course she will be clever." I smile a bit more. "Won't you be, my darling girl?"
Kent's thumb moves, and I chuckle for it not only tickles, but the baby responds as well. He seems pleased that our daughter responds to him, and believes that she will possess a knowledge that will be extraordinary for a child. Again, I have to wonder how much of Kent is ingrained in her already, and how much I can affect? If she can absorb information now, I can start right away, telling her about all the wonderful things life has to offer. It's a start, at any rate.
"Well, what I would like her to know is that I do require sleep at night, and that some foods are impossible to get here in the middle of nowhere, so she should stop wanting them. Unless you have a pineapple plantation somewhere I don't know about?" I ask dryly, but with a slight hint of hope in my voice, just in case he does have one. Oh, just the thought of it makes my stomach growl, and I realize I am not only tired but famished after all this exertion.
"Shall we get cleaned up Mr. Whitman? Your child and wife are feeling a bit peckish, and we might alarm the neighbors if we go to the cafe looking so garish." I ask, looking at our bloodstained bodies with an appreciative smile. Well, perhaps after we eat I will not be quite so tired anymore.
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"Not long at all," I smile. "I am looking forward to meeting her."
"Well, what I would like her to know is that I do require sleep at night, and that some foods are impossible to get here in the middle of nowhere, so she should stop wanting them. Unless you have a pineapple plantation somewhere I don't know about?"
"I am sure I can acquire pineapple if it would please you," I say. It is no great thing to do, and it may prove useful to keep Wanda pacified.
"Shall we get cleaned up Mr. Whitman? Your child and wife are feeling a bit peckish, and we might alarm the neighbors if we go to the cafe looking so garish."
"Come and shower, then," I say, leading her to the bathroom in the cellar. I mend the wounds on my body as I do, but I leave some marks where they will be hidden by clothes. I know Wanda appreciates them. Blood sluices off our bodies down the drain, and I roll my shoulders under the hot water and smile. Many things are in motion, now.
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A grin splits my face and I nod enthusiastically. "Oh yes please I have been---" I stop and bite my lip. "That is, if it would not be a bother." I add in a bit more of a subdued tone. "I... I don't like to impose on you with petty things." I admit, looking down. "The wedding was lovely, and I am not sure if I ever thanked you for indulging me so. But I don't expect you to cater to my wants... and I know you wouldn't anyway..." I laugh a little, but then look back at him. "But I wanted you to know that I do appreciate the little things you do indulge me in. Thank you."
I laugh again after a moment, feeling rather foolish for such an admission and shake my head. "Damn hormones." I mutter, tucking some hair behind my ear.
Kent takes my hand and leads me to the shower. I sigh as the hot water hits me, clearing away the dried blood, and I survey the few new marks that he decided to keep. I watch him roll his shoulders, and almost on instinct, I reach up and run my hands over his neck, then start to knead the muscles between his shoulder blades. As if he really were a labourer and had just come home with aching muscles after a long day. Again the absurdity of this situation hits me, and I grin. "I suppose you really don't need me to do this either." I remark, but don't stop. "I think I need to eat, lack of food is making me sentimental, it seems." I say, placing a kiss against his spine.
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I raise my eyebrows under the stream of water. I have been quite clear with Wanda that I have only darkness and madness to offer her, so why she does not demand what things with which I pave that road for mankind - worldly pleasures and successes - I do not know. Perhaps it is so she can keep this fantasy of a human marriage alive. It is a little disappointing; if she embraced more of what this marriage really meant, she might not be happier but she would probably have more fun.
"I suppose you really don't need me to do this either."
"I don't need anything," I observe, "but you may do it if it pleases you, and I can let this body be pleased to receive it."
"I think I need to eat, lack of food is making me sentimental, it seems."
"Dinner, then," I say. "You must keep your strength up, given your condition." I turn and smile at her, and I turn the water off.
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"I don't need anything, but you may do it if it pleases you, and I can let this body be pleased to receive it." Kent's voice rouses me out of my musings, and I smile. "It does please me, husband. I like this body of yours, the muscle tone and definition of it." I comment, trailing my hands over his broad shoulders and down his arms. It pleases me to admire it as much as it pleases me to mark it."
Kent agrees dinner is a good idea. "You must keep your strength up, given your condition." I smile and nod, slipping my arms around his waist once he turns the water off. "I actually have an appetite again, which is a great help in such matters." I grin, stretching up to kiss his lips, shivering pleasantly at the sensation of our bodies rubbing together.
"Come on Mr. Whitman. Lets dry off and go upstairs; try to find something that still fits me." I murmur against his lips, trailing my fingers through his wet hair. "Then feed me, bring me home and perhaps exhaust me some more if I am in the mood..." My lips quirk at that for I am always in the mood. "... and after that, allow me to fall asleep within your arms?" I ask, looking up into his blue eyes; the ones that I remembered even when I lost my name.
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"And you mark it well," I observe, mouth quirking up into a smile.
"Come on Mr. Whitman. Lets dry off and go upstairs; try to find something that still fits me. Then feed me, bring me home and perhaps exhaust me some more if I am in the mood...and after that, allow me to fall asleep within your arms?"
"My qareen will find you clothes," I say, and I turn my head north so that my servant can hear me. "Such things are easily done. And yes, I will spend the night with you," I say. Such a little thing is easy to grant.
When we go upstairs, there is a black dress (http://www.everydaymaternity.com/bmz_cache/1/14e71f7c01e4d00297dd146b5e0a2e07.image.333x600.jpg) hanging on the door of Wanda's bedroom. My qareen works quickly.
"Very elegant," I say. "You will look quite ravishing."
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"I am sure I still have a pair of low hipped jeans and a oversized sweater." I protest quietly as we ascend the stairs to my bedroom. "And what the heck is a... quar...qa..."
My question dies as I see there is indeed a new dress awaiting us. I quickly discard my towel and find a bra that still fits and a pair of knickers. After donning those, I put the dress on.
"Very elegant, You will look quite ravishing." I stand in front of my mirror and note that the cut is to emphazise the pregnancy bump, and not to mask it. I take a deep breath, and smile, sliding my hand over the swell. No use trying to hide it, I suppose.
"As long as you are the one doing the ravishing." I tease, and twist my hair up into a loose knot. "So instead, let's go to the tavern so you may show off your 'ravishing' wife. We can have dinner there, and maybe I can sweet talk you into dancing with me?" I ask, adding a long strand of champaigne paste pearls to the look. "It won't be long before I am waddling, I would suspect, so I should get some dancing in now!"
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I had a really good time tonight. The food was delicious, I indulged in a glass of strawberry meade, and I learned that my husband is quite the fine dancer. Even the little imp seemed to have a good time, fluttering along with the music.
Too soon it seemed, my energy flagged again. My ever attentive husband gently insisted that we return home, that a woman in my condition must take care of herself. I conceded of course, how I could I refuse that smile? We walked home arm in arm, and when we entered the kitchen, I noted there were a few pineapples sitting on the counter, which I thanked him for with a rain of kisses over his face. Kent then proceeded to sweep me up in his arms and carry me upstairs with a dark, glittering smile and a promise that he would make sure I would sleep well tonight...
and now; as I lay spent and sated, curled within the circle of his arms, I believe that claim. I can barely keep my eyes open as I place a kiss against his neck and settle my head on his shoulder. I can feel our daughter flutter as my husband's hand caresses my stomach, and I laugh quietly, oddly content within this moment. Then the moment slips away as I do into a dreamless sleep...