[☠fic] Mors In Olla
Title: Mors In Olla ( entry at gw_dark) Word count: 1.125
Fic Info: In response to gw_dark's first fic challenge: autocannibalism. Title comes from the Latin version of 2 Ki 4:40.
Characters: Wu Fei, Sally; mention of Une.
Rating: Mature. Warnings: Death; placentophagy; disturbing imagery. Very heavy on angst.
Disclaimer: You know the drill. Wuffles is my favourite rebellious little fucktard.
Special thanks to Cozz for beta-reading! *smooches*
The moment he presents her the plate, he already regrets it. Uneasily, Wu Fei steps back to stand at the head of the dinner table, resting his hands on a chair.
Sally's rigid figure, sitting to his right at the long side of the table, reminds him of a frail, elderly woman's. Her red eyes close, temporarily turning her face into a pallid landscape with little contrast besides the faint bruises of fatigue; then, they open and let their dull glance swerve over the meal. Sally picks up her fork and idly twiddles it between her thumb and forefinger.
Balling his fists, Wu Fei fights off the urge to run to the kitchen and wash his hands. It is as though he can still feel the clammy tickle of the brownish-red organ slithering and dangling between his fingers; the flaccid flesh, cool and dead, emanating a subtle though distinct odour as he tore tiny clumps of meat from the bluish membrane with his bare hands.
There had been blood clots the size of eggs. At one point, he had nearly squeezed one, just to see how much blood would squirt out and stain his hands and shirt.
A sugar snap being pricked on Sally's fork makes a small crack in the silence. Wu Fei swallows; his mouth feels dry and the livery scent of the stir fried dish he spent all afternoon preparing makes him nauseous. The wish to say something, anything, helplessly curdles in his throat.
Breaking the silence would not change the fact that he should have been there. Protective as he had been of Sally since the man she had been seeing left her, Wu Fei had failed to be there the moment he may actually have made a difference.
Saturday after hours he had received a phone call from Lady Une, who informed him that Sally had been rushed to the hospital.
One of the cleaning ladies had found her near Preventers' mail department, leaning against a wall next to a soaked package in a puddle of water, doubling up and crying. She had told the old woman in slight panic she could feel something protruding from her vagina; the woman had immediately called for help.
Later, at the hospital, he had been forcefully slammed into a wall by Une for ramming his fist into the jaw of a doctor who told him he had to wait for the attending surgeon's approval to see Sally. She carefully told him Sally had needed an emergency C-section; what Sally had felt had been the umbilical chord, the baby's lifeline, which had prolapsed with the liquid from her womb gushing out.
Gritting his teeth, Wu Fei watches her as she lifts the fork to her mouth and bites the sugar snap. Her face remains neutral, scarily devoid of emotion, as she chews it with slow crunches.
Feeling his nails dig into his skin, he remembers the moment he had been given permission to see Sally.
Her mother had been in tears, clutching Sally's hand, shaking her head with a strange grin on her face. Her daughter did not seem to be in any obvious pain when she told the doctor how she had planned to bury the placenta and plant a tree on top of it.
"A linden tree. My girl's first gift in this world,
just like my parents gave me when I was born."
It was one of the last things he had heard her say; in communicating with Wu Fei, she had barely formed a sentence since she came from the hospital. And he could hardly blame her. He wonders if she knows just how sickeningly guilty he feels for having walked away in a huff after they had a silly little tiff about Sally's wish to stop sitting around uselessly and being treated like a china doll.
"Fine," he had said, "but don't blame me if something happens,
you stubborn woman."
He holds his breath, trying to smother Sally's words and his own echoing around in his head. He had just picked up his phone to call Sally to tell her he may have been too worried -he had always admired her for being able to take care of herself, after al- when he got Une's call.
Shifting only slightly, Sally pokes her fork idly though the green and brown mash on her plate. When the nails digging into his hand begin to hurt, Wu Fei's heart starts beating faster. He finds himself searching for something to say again and bites his tongue when he sees Sally select a piece of meat and lift it to her mouth.
Sally's free left hand moves over the table as she grinds the meat slowly between her teeth, and picks up an unframed photograph. Her fingers tremble slightly when she caresses the picture with her thumb.
Wu Fei sees a shimmery trail forming from Sally's eye down her cheek; he feels what little he managed to save of his defences crumble like toast under a fist when he hears her breathing become more shallow and shaky with every movement of her jaws. He breathes out sharply and closes the distance between them with two big steps; he locks her in an embrace from behind, closing his right hand around hers holding the fork.
"Sal, this is wrong," he says with a strangely hoarse voice. "I am such a fool. Eating that is not going to help you feel better."
Her sobs urge him to hold her tighter and press his cheek against hers. Wu Fei silently looks at the picture in Sally's hand; the lump in his throat nearly chokes him at the sight of the stillborn girl he had helped keep safe till the moment his immature selfishness had made him walk out on his pregnant best friend.
His mind had raced in search of solutions, things he could do to try and make Sally see how ashamed he felt to have failed her. Then, he had remembered an ancient practice rooted in the medical teachings of his culture.
Sally swallows and starts crying audibly. Wu Fei clenches his eyes shut at the pale baby with the purple face and curses himself inwardly for suggesting to Sally that, according to Traditional Chinese Medicine, eating the placenta helped women to rebalance their Qi after labour.
"Put down the fork, Sal."
He releases her hand and she immediately drops the fork. He straightens, turns her chair to get the plate from her view and presses her close to him. Sally grabs his shirt to bury her face in it, crying against his belly and the picture.
"Tomorrow," Wu Fei says, his voice barely a whisper, "we are planting a tree in the back yard."
Fic Info: In response to gw_dark's first fic challenge: autocannibalism. Title comes from the Latin version of 2 Ki 4:40.
Characters: Wu Fei, Sally; mention of Une.
Rating: Mature. Warnings: Death; placentophagy; disturbing imagery. Very heavy on angst.
Disclaimer: You know the drill. Wuffles is my favourite rebellious little fucktard.
Special thanks to Cozz for beta-reading! *smooches*
The moment he presents her the plate, he already regrets it. Uneasily, Wu Fei steps back to stand at the head of the dinner table, resting his hands on a chair.
Sally's rigid figure, sitting to his right at the long side of the table, reminds him of a frail, elderly woman's. Her red eyes close, temporarily turning her face into a pallid landscape with little contrast besides the faint bruises of fatigue; then, they open and let their dull glance swerve over the meal. Sally picks up her fork and idly twiddles it between her thumb and forefinger.
Balling his fists, Wu Fei fights off the urge to run to the kitchen and wash his hands. It is as though he can still feel the clammy tickle of the brownish-red organ slithering and dangling between his fingers; the flaccid flesh, cool and dead, emanating a subtle though distinct odour as he tore tiny clumps of meat from the bluish membrane with his bare hands.
There had been blood clots the size of eggs. At one point, he had nearly squeezed one, just to see how much blood would squirt out and stain his hands and shirt.
A sugar snap being pricked on Sally's fork makes a small crack in the silence. Wu Fei swallows; his mouth feels dry and the livery scent of the stir fried dish he spent all afternoon preparing makes him nauseous. The wish to say something, anything, helplessly curdles in his throat.
Breaking the silence would not change the fact that he should have been there. Protective as he had been of Sally since the man she had been seeing left her, Wu Fei had failed to be there the moment he may actually have made a difference.
Saturday after hours he had received a phone call from Lady Une, who informed him that Sally had been rushed to the hospital.
One of the cleaning ladies had found her near Preventers' mail department, leaning against a wall next to a soaked package in a puddle of water, doubling up and crying. She had told the old woman in slight panic she could feel something protruding from her vagina; the woman had immediately called for help.
Later, at the hospital, he had been forcefully slammed into a wall by Une for ramming his fist into the jaw of a doctor who told him he had to wait for the attending surgeon's approval to see Sally. She carefully told him Sally had needed an emergency C-section; what Sally had felt had been the umbilical chord, the baby's lifeline, which had prolapsed with the liquid from her womb gushing out.
Gritting his teeth, Wu Fei watches her as she lifts the fork to her mouth and bites the sugar snap. Her face remains neutral, scarily devoid of emotion, as she chews it with slow crunches.
Feeling his nails dig into his skin, he remembers the moment he had been given permission to see Sally.
Her mother had been in tears, clutching Sally's hand, shaking her head with a strange grin on her face. Her daughter did not seem to be in any obvious pain when she told the doctor how she had planned to bury the placenta and plant a tree on top of it.
"A linden tree. My girl's first gift in this world,
just like my parents gave me when I was born."
It was one of the last things he had heard her say; in communicating with Wu Fei, she had barely formed a sentence since she came from the hospital. And he could hardly blame her. He wonders if she knows just how sickeningly guilty he feels for having walked away in a huff after they had a silly little tiff about Sally's wish to stop sitting around uselessly and being treated like a china doll.
"Fine," he had said, "but don't blame me if something happens,
you stubborn woman."
He holds his breath, trying to smother Sally's words and his own echoing around in his head. He had just picked up his phone to call Sally to tell her he may have been too worried -he had always admired her for being able to take care of herself, after al- when he got Une's call.
Shifting only slightly, Sally pokes her fork idly though the green and brown mash on her plate. When the nails digging into his hand begin to hurt, Wu Fei's heart starts beating faster. He finds himself searching for something to say again and bites his tongue when he sees Sally select a piece of meat and lift it to her mouth.
Sally's free left hand moves over the table as she grinds the meat slowly between her teeth, and picks up an unframed photograph. Her fingers tremble slightly when she caresses the picture with her thumb.
Wu Fei sees a shimmery trail forming from Sally's eye down her cheek; he feels what little he managed to save of his defences crumble like toast under a fist when he hears her breathing become more shallow and shaky with every movement of her jaws. He breathes out sharply and closes the distance between them with two big steps; he locks her in an embrace from behind, closing his right hand around hers holding the fork.
"Sal, this is wrong," he says with a strangely hoarse voice. "I am such a fool. Eating that is not going to help you feel better."
Her sobs urge him to hold her tighter and press his cheek against hers. Wu Fei silently looks at the picture in Sally's hand; the lump in his throat nearly chokes him at the sight of the stillborn girl he had helped keep safe till the moment his immature selfishness had made him walk out on his pregnant best friend.
His mind had raced in search of solutions, things he could do to try and make Sally see how ashamed he felt to have failed her. Then, he had remembered an ancient practice rooted in the medical teachings of his culture.
Sally swallows and starts crying audibly. Wu Fei clenches his eyes shut at the pale baby with the purple face and curses himself inwardly for suggesting to Sally that, according to Traditional Chinese Medicine, eating the placenta helped women to rebalance their Qi after labour.
"Put down the fork, Sal."
He releases her hand and she immediately drops the fork. He straightens, turns her chair to get the plate from her view and presses her close to him. Sally grabs his shirt to bury her face in it, crying against his belly and the picture.
"Tomorrow," Wu Fei says, his voice barely a whisper, "we are planting a tree in the back yard."