never was a girl with a wicked mind.
I had everything, opportunities for eternity.
I could see into the night.
Pregnancy is not an accessory that Morag particularly cares for. She wears it well, like she does most anything, but where most women glow and smile with the knowledge of life, she just gets colder, more withdrawn. Maybe it's the lack of alcohol in her veins, or the fact that no man will touch her-- or talk to her, given that most talked to her simply to get under her sheets-- but something about those nine months shuts down parts of her. What had been simply guarded now was filed away, hidden behind locks and guards and never to be seen again.
Her water breaks in the middle of a shop, and she simply looks annoyed when the attendant tries to help her stay steady. Morag is unapologetic when she smacks the woman's hand away, and near homicidal by the time she steps out of the Floo into the hospital twenty minutes later.
"Find me a room," is all she will say, deadly quiet, "and parchment. I need to send an owl."
She asks to be sedated, and they comply, because no one really wants to handle her in childbirth, and she asks that they send the owl only after the baby is delivered.
It is a screaming, kicking healthy little girl, and Morag looks at her with a quiet, almost soft expression for a moment before refusing to hold her any longer.
"Cassandra," she murmurs, "you tragic, hopeless thing."
I could see into the night.
Pregnancy is not an accessory that Morag particularly cares for. She wears it well, like she does most anything, but where most women glow and smile with the knowledge of life, she just gets colder, more withdrawn. Maybe it's the lack of alcohol in her veins, or the fact that no man will touch her-- or talk to her, given that most talked to her simply to get under her sheets-- but something about those nine months shuts down parts of her. What had been simply guarded now was filed away, hidden behind locks and guards and never to be seen again.
Her water breaks in the middle of a shop, and she simply looks annoyed when the attendant tries to help her stay steady. Morag is unapologetic when she smacks the woman's hand away, and near homicidal by the time she steps out of the Floo into the hospital twenty minutes later.
"Find me a room," is all she will say, deadly quiet, "and parchment. I need to send an owl."
She asks to be sedated, and they comply, because no one really wants to handle her in childbirth, and she asks that they send the owl only after the baby is delivered.
It is a screaming, kicking healthy little girl, and Morag looks at her with a quiet, almost soft expression for a moment before refusing to hold her any longer.
"Cassandra," she murmurs, "you tragic, hopeless thing."