Baptismal [August 24th] [Kotori] [X/1999]
Title :: Baptismal
Prompt :: August 24th, “I'm almost drowning in her sea” [31_days]
Characters/Pairing :: Kotori, Saya; Saya/Tohru implied
Rating :: PG
Wordcount :: 177
Summary :: As if from worlds far away, she is dimly aware of her brother's calling, and even here, even now, she clings to his words.
As if from worlds far away, she is dimly aware of her brother's calling, and even here, even now, she clings to his words.
(Not Mother not Mother not Mother there was an illness not Mother oh sometimes infection just creeps in not Mother not her oh no-)
Not Mother, she thinks, even as her heart cries out in sweetly sacrificial joy.
And this is her baptism, her full initiation into the powers she has always possessed; the washing away of childhood and home her final price.
This woman is not the mother she always known, the fervent sea-salt shine to her eyes even more foreign than the new reconfigurations of her limbs. This woman was not made to truly have a family, was not made to ever be anything or hold any title but hers.
And she begins to understand now that neither is she herself made to be a daughter or a sister or a lover, but that she too is simply yet another pawn.
Prompt :: August 24th, “I'm almost drowning in her sea” [31_days]
Characters/Pairing :: Kotori, Saya; Saya/Tohru implied
Rating :: PG
Wordcount :: 177
Summary :: As if from worlds far away, she is dimly aware of her brother's calling, and even here, even now, she clings to his words.
As if from worlds far away, she is dimly aware of her brother's calling, and even here, even now, she clings to his words.
(Not Mother not Mother not Mother there was an illness not Mother oh sometimes infection just creeps in not Mother not her oh no-)
Not Mother, she thinks, even as her heart cries out in sweetly sacrificial joy.
And this is her baptism, her full initiation into the powers she has always possessed; the washing away of childhood and home her final price.
This woman is not the mother she always known, the fervent sea-salt shine to her eyes even more foreign than the new reconfigurations of her limbs. This woman was not made to truly have a family, was not made to ever be anything or hold any title but hers.
And she begins to understand now that neither is she herself made to be a daughter or a sister or a lover, but that she too is simply yet another pawn.