It was an unsettling creature.
This Unhallowed Noun that had been spouted at her in reverent tones while in the midst of such vile fledglings.
Compared to them, it was the darkest and most disturbing of them all.
It crawled under her skin like a parasitic lech, nestling itself deep into her bones, whispering accusations of truth in her mind that she didn't know how to acknowledge or even defend against.
She had glowered at the ghastly thing, bold and proud as it crawled towards her, its long claws and sharp teeth bared intently. It chittered wildly as if it expected to share in conversation with her, its large obsidian eyes gleaming joyfully. When she remained mute, however, unmoved from her spot among the thicket--her fellow travels circled protectively on either side of her with quaking knees--it tilted its head, regarding her curiously, before pushing the word out vehemently.
Mother.
It was bitter on her tongue to even repeat.
What kind of torment was this?
To regard her with such idolatry?
Mother.
Such an ungodly title.
No.
She was no Mother to these things.
They yearned, even in their nests of bones and rotting flesh, for the love and affection of a maternal being and she...well she was hardly even living let alone being capable of feeling beyond physicality.
No, she had no motherly qualities to offer them.
But she wish she had.
For in their wretched decaying presence she felt more at home, more at peace with her own being, than she had since she had crawled out of the shadows to approach her own perceived maker and found her Father devastatingly lacking.
Oh what a cruel world it is indeed, for even the most wretched of creatures can find themselves undone by feelings.
This Unhallowed Noun that had been spouted at her in reverent tones while in the midst of such vile fledglings.
Compared to them, it was the darkest and most disturbing of them all.
It crawled under her skin like a parasitic lech, nestling itself deep into her bones, whispering accusations of truth in her mind that she didn't know how to acknowledge or even defend against.
She had glowered at the ghastly thing, bold and proud as it crawled towards her, its long claws and sharp teeth bared intently. It chittered wildly as if it expected to share in conversation with her, its large obsidian eyes gleaming joyfully. When she remained mute, however, unmoved from her spot among the thicket--her fellow travels circled protectively on either side of her with quaking knees--it tilted its head, regarding her curiously, before pushing the word out vehemently.
Mother.
It was bitter on her tongue to even repeat.
What kind of torment was this?
To regard her with such idolatry?
Mother.
Such an ungodly title.
No.
She was no Mother to these things.
They yearned, even in their nests of bones and rotting flesh, for the love and affection of a maternal being and she...well she was hardly even living let alone being capable of feeling beyond physicality.
No, she had no motherly qualities to offer them.
But she wish she had.
For in their wretched decaying presence she felt more at home, more at peace with her own being, than she had since she had crawled out of the shadows to approach her own perceived maker and found her Father devastatingly lacking.
Oh what a cruel world it is indeed, for even the most wretched of creatures can find themselves undone by feelings.
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