(no subject)
F has the baby. F thinks maybe the baby has F.
It sleeps on her lap and F stares at it. Little thing, it will cost her all she has earned on this island and she cannot help having taken it. Ne, imouto, doushite?
Her lips push the word past the mangled gates of her teeth. Imouto! F is declawed now; she chewed off the long tips of her fingernails after she saw they could hurt the baby. Her teeth made messy work of it, taking skin and nail. There are bloody marks in the snow outside the caves where she plunged her hands to stop the messy bits. The taste of her own blood holds no thrill for F.
She makes noises, the lullaby of the Deros. They sound like the singing of whales, though she doesn't know the word. The alien pitches of her voice echo off the walls of the caverns nearest to her, and when she hears footsteps, she entertains the thought of the Deros finally coming for her.
But Deros would never be so loud.
F is found, and still she rocks the baby, still she sings in a stranger's lullaby.
It sleeps on her lap and F stares at it. Little thing, it will cost her all she has earned on this island and she cannot help having taken it. Ne, imouto, doushite?
Her lips push the word past the mangled gates of her teeth. Imouto! F is declawed now; she chewed off the long tips of her fingernails after she saw they could hurt the baby. Her teeth made messy work of it, taking skin and nail. There are bloody marks in the snow outside the caves where she plunged her hands to stop the messy bits. The taste of her own blood holds no thrill for F.
She makes noises, the lullaby of the Deros. They sound like the singing of whales, though she doesn't know the word. The alien pitches of her voice echo off the walls of the caverns nearest to her, and when she hears footsteps, she entertains the thought of the Deros finally coming for her.
But Deros would never be so loud.
F is found, and still she rocks the baby, still she sings in a stranger's lullaby.