[ AW ] The Aftermath

Rhychdir, as they stayed in limbo, thought back for a small moment. She had never done the best by her children, and for that she felt regret. She had never truly shown them what her love meant; protection and fighting for them, at the time, had been enough. But, clearly… It hadn’t been. She should have shown more of what was in her heart, shown them that they were the reason she fought so much. That they gave her something to live for. But she’d never been able to properly articulate it, never been able to utter the words that they perhaps should have been hearing from the day that they’d been found, huddled and scared inside that cave.

They were adults now, monsters of her own design, it would seem. She could not change the past, that much Rhy knew, but maybe she could change the future, alter the path that things were going along. All it took was a simple decision, she knew that much. But, she also knew that she may not come out of this, depending on her son’s emotions, and just how much she had hurt him.

She didn’t fight as fangs touched her throat, kept her paws close to her chest as new wounds caused the white fur of her neck to become a darker crimson than even her cheeks as the blood began soaking into her fur, running down her neck. Despite that though, the pressure had stopped being applied, and while it wasn’t easy to suck in a breath, Rhy managed a small one. ‘If this is how I fix this, then so be it. Take my fuckin life,’ she thought to herself. Confusion struck her as something began rolling from the corners of her eyes, seeping into the fur as more of the liquid ran down, slowly rolling closer to her ears that were pressed into the ground. What was this? It wasn’t a sensation that she’d experienced before — or, maybe she had, and it’d simply been beaten out of her to ever show such emotion again.

Rhychdir knew what the liquid was, however strange a sensation it was.

More pooled out of her eyes as she blinked slowly, a difficult swallow proving a lump that had swelled in her throat.

Weight landed on her chest, pushing the air from her, as Braith collapsed onto her. Without the pressure of his fangs on her throat, she sucked in a shakey breath, holding it for a small moment before slowly letting it out through slightly parted lips. She didn’t expect him to hold her the way he did, cradled against her. Slowly, her forelimbs wrapped around him. Her own tears kept coming, the damned things wouldn’t stop, although, Rhy wasn’t really sure she was trying in the first place. Another shuddering breath, and a choked sound were all that the woman could muster in the moment in terms of noise. Her forelimbs, while gripping hard, did not do so out of hatred or fear.

No, for a moment, she simply held the child that she’d neglected for so long. She ignored the pain that racked her body from her wounds, as in some places they began bleeding anew from the pressure and friction of another body against her own.

“Braith,” Rhy said, her voice quiet, a raw sound. “I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry.”


@Braith

table © ashon

BRAITH BRADSHAGH
Bow Before Me O Peasant of Plenty

He could feel her flesh bend to his fangs, waiting eagerly to be slit open and drain her life onto the ground to feed the weeds and dirt. He wondered for a moment if enough blood would make the flowers to red, for he remembered stories of red poppies being created in such a way from the ichor of battle forever staining them for generations. Would the plants under her do it too if he had gone on with it? Even as his jaw let her loose, there was that trigger at the joint excited to snap, waiting for the spring to be let go so he could satiate his curiosity and revenge so he could keep her with him forever more. If he drained all her blood she could last even longer. She could have been a doll left in his den, slowly rotting away but always there. The perfect mother never to leave her child. He knew how sick and twisted those thoughts were but oh how he wanted to do it even as his muzzle tucked into her and tears spilled down his cheeks.

The way she breathed to regain breath would rattle his head gently, feeling her lungs grasp for air to refill them then let it free timidly, as if knowing disturbing him might make those fang snap again. Without his power over her he had but a second ago, he anticipated her taking the route he had just relented from. His ears twitched, waiting for a snare to seize him next, a vice grip he wished to have used on her instead. He wilted more and more as he held her, expecting this to be their end rather than the new beginning she had just offered to create with him. Trust in her had long since faded, only fantasies kept him sane but did that not just mean he was even more mad?

Iron would fill his nose again, far fresher but there was also a brine that made his eyes open, feeling like he knew that smell was tears yet not wanting to accept that as a possibility. Rhychdir didn’t cry. He had never seen tears on her face ever in his life. There would be a vice grip on him as well but not one of his expectations, causing him to rest there for a few more moments until her voice broke the silences that kept them in tearful harmony with one another.

“Don’t leave me again, mumma,” his voice frail, address attached he hadn’t called anyone since he was little baby, falling back into a time when he wasn’t so cruel. A title that didn't belong to anyone living. He wanted to live forever in this fantasy of happiness and love.

-fade exit Braith-

code by claerie

Rhychdir wondered if this might be it — it would be poetic, in its own sick way. A mother killed by her son — the son that perceived so much abandonment. A Bradshagh killed by anger. It would be fitting, truthfully, so much so that the woman was willing. But, it seemed she would never fully know if her body would allow such a thing to happen — for the fighting to end — as Braith’s teeth left her flesh.

It was a sick and twisted thing, their relationship, this much Rhychdir knew. But, that didn’t mean that it was broken beyond repair — so she hoped.

The woman knew that she had not been the best mother, especially in her leaving. Her stories of a better life, an escape from the confines of the lives that they had lived… Had it not all truly been selfish, in its own way? Perhaps, perhaps not. Rhychdir wasn’t entirely sure of her own motivations, especially when it came to why she had left Cyrileth in the first place.

“Don’t leave me again, mumma,” he said, sounding every bit the child that he still was in her eyes. Through her tears, Rhy felt a ghost of a smile touch her lips.

“I won’t, baby. I won’t,” she said.

It would be a promise she would try her best to keep.

[ fin ]


@Braith

table © ashon