Post by Nako on Jun 26, 2009 15:39:37 GMT -5
Belated Warning: Kind of... emotional and sad.
"No, it's fertile. See?" Careful fingers spun the stunted egg over the Corvisownian light they had bought just for this purpose. The Torquehelm hen pointed at the dark spot that was no doubt an embryo developing in the center. "Now you can stop your worrying. Come now, go ahead and put it back in the next before it gets cold."
Fertile. Yes, that was a good thing, wasn't it? Walking back to the nest, the rooster stared down at the mottled shell. So tiny... less than half the size of the other eggs. Surely.. there had to be something wrong with it? The Morganberry tried to keep these worries to himself... but he couldn't stand to have a dysfunctional child. His image... He couldn't risk it. With a grimace, he set down the tiny egg next to its siblings. Those two, healthy eggs. He had much hope for them. He couldn't say the same for the other.
-------
"See Charles? It's moving. It won't be long now." The brooding Torque hen crooned, moving a leg so as to show the little egg. Olivia had been so pleased that he was fighting for life; she was absolutely thrilled by his strength. Charles though, was disturbed. He'd hoped it would die in the shell. Of course, he'd kept this thought to himself. He'd never disturb his beloved Olivia with such thoughts. She so doted on her children, just as any mother should.
And so Charles waited in his study as the hours went by. This was his first batch of children, but even he knew that the task of breaking out of a shell was a long and grueling one. Hopefully their lineage of pure avians would somehow help in the process. Yes, he prided himself on that fact. Typically his family had stuck to Morganberries and the occasional mixed realm, but there was a convenience in marrying a Torquehelm that he could not deny. Her family was influential in that part, which made things most convenient for him while he set up his metal refinery there. Metal bindings were all the rage there; it only made sense that his company be set up where the most demand would be. After all, he'd be doing the area a favor by bringing in jobs and wealth into their country.
It was a marriage of convenience, for certain, but that wasn't to say Charles did not care for his wife. She was a very lovely hen, her black and purple plumage quite fetching. Even her binding, which he had founds most jarring when he'd first met her, had taken on its own charm. It certainly wasn't as extreme as some. A delicate choker was connected to chains that went through large loops pierced through muscle, and set behind bone, which trailed down all the way to shackles on her legs. This impeded any ability to fly, but then again chickens weren't really known for their prowess in the air. It -did- in fact give her a lovely refined posture befitting her status.
Charles smiled, taking a puff of his pipe. Yes, she was a darling woman, with a healthy rank as a 10 of Clubs that brought pride to his Suit, and accented his own rank of Jack quite nicely. She was born that way, he was told. That had pleased him because it meant if she hadn't ranked up by now, then she might never do so; he didn't know what he'd do if his wife eventually outranked him. That would have been a serious blow to his pride. But no, his lovely Olivia had too much respect for him to do that.
------
Olivia wouldn't bother her husband as the children were born. The children would be messy with egg goo, and she knew he wouldn't want to see that. Instead, she waited patiently as each egg began to crack, the smaller one being slower, but not completely lifeless. They were all healthy, and surely they'd all be -wonderful-.
The first was a Torquehelm male. Olivia's heart went out to this child, even as she hoped the next would be a full Morganberry. Charles so wanted a Morganberry. Her first child would not go without love though, and she ignored the child's cries as she pierced his wing and shackled it to his leg. "You will help us share our burdens, little one. You will understand this honor one day." She whispered, soothing the child as she set it back down in the nest. Hopefully the wound would stop bleeding and would be ready to clean before her husband arrived. He was truly a strapping little male, with a proud black Seven of Clubs emblazoned on his violet chest.
The second, thank the stars, was a Morganberry. No binding would be necessary for this little male. Oh, how he looked so much like his father. But the eyes... he had her eyes. Charles would be so proud. The Five of Clubs on his chest was somewhat disappointing, she was sure, but certainly with his Morganberry drive, the boy would excel.
The last egg took the longest, and the other two sons were already walking about and pecking about for food. She'd have to bring them some meal worms and grain after her last child hatched. The egg had formed several striations along the thick shell, but only now were the pieces falling away. The membranous coating within the egg was torn open by a tiny beak, followed by the tiny peeps of a healthy baby. Olivia's heart fluttered, crooning encouragement as the tiny chick finally pushed out. A flash of Morganberry and Torque colors pleased her greatly.. but he was so -tiny-, he'd probably fit in the palm of Charles' hand...
And that was when she saw the mark on his chest. Suddenly, it seemed all of Charles' barely concealed worries held much more merit as the veil of obliviousness was pulled from her eyes. The marking was that of an ugly, ominous 'A', followed by the Club suit that the parents had passed on. There was... so much of both her and Charles in this child, but the gaze in its dark, beady eyes as it looked up at his mother, though the love was imploring... it was obvious that there was something.. not quite right with it.
"Ch-Charles!!" He'd be so angry, but she could never hide this child from him. She didn't know what to do. There was no other choice than.. to tell him.
-----------
That tone could only mean something bad. Quickly, he snuffed out his pipe and strode into the room where his hen was watching over his brood. He had expected that perhaps the little egg had died, or maybe some near-dead, deformed creature had fallen from the shell and frightened her. He stopped, confused as he stared into his wife's horrified face, and then to the children. They all seemed healthy. Two very pure children of each realm struck him with joy, but then.. the small one. What was wrong with it? He ignored his sobbing wife and knelt before the tiny creature, turning it to face him. Aghast, he backed away from it, nearly falling over himself as he did so.
"How- how could this have happened? How could you have hatched such a thing, Olivia!?" He was shoving the blame to her in his anger; did she have some history of hatching Aces her father hadn't told him about? Had the Torque bastards inbred just a touch too long?
His wife's cries escalated to wails, throwing herself to his feet in grief. "I have done -nothing- to wrong you, husband! Please.. please! Don't be upset with mee..."
Gritting his beak, the rooster stepped over the prone hen, snatching the ace up by its wings and turning away with it to head out the door.
"DON'T YOU HURT HIM! PLEASE! PLEEAAASE...."
Her screams echoed in his mind as he strode out the door. This could never get out. He'd be ruined if anyone had known he'd... -produced- this.... creature. A chopping block was set some ways outside the cottage, and he stopped at it, looking down at the crying, flailing creature in his hand. How... abnormal.
Don't you hurt him!
His hand gripped the handle he held the child down with his clawed foot, using his strong, bipedal form to hoist the axe.. His hands shook.
He couldn't do it.
The axe dropped to the ground, the Morganberry rooster falling down to his knees before the squealing, upset child. "I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry..."
The babe couldn't understand, but in its young age, it sought comfort from the man who had nearly killed him, crying softly as he sought shelter from the cold night air beneath his father's wing. But Charles could not let him. This could not be his son. He picked him up, gentler than he had before, taking him into the chicken coop that he owned. Hastily, he put him into the pen and shut the door, ignoring the cries, and ignoring his own tears pouring down his feathered face.
"I'm... so sorry.."
---------
The child couldn't understand what had just happened, nor would he remember as he got older, but that night, he sought shelter from the cold with the non-sentient chickens that roosted in that pen, sought the warmth of a brooding female that let him near. It was not his mother, not the card that in some instinctual way he knew he was... but when a creature was desperate for nurturing, a secondary imprint could be made for the sake of survival.
He would beat the odds; he would survive.
-------
When Charles came back into the house, he was more or less composed, though his eyes were set deep in their sockets with a pain that Olivia had never seen in her husband. Still, her own gaze was set as grief stricken, and angry. "I'll never forgive you."
This made him stop in his tracks, staring at his wife carefully as her chest heaved up and down, her two remaining children held carefully to her side. For a moment, Charles made no move toward or away from her, dumbstruck. It was in these moments when a person could truly decide if they had love for a person. The fact that her words stabbed him to the point the tears nearly flowed again, answered this question. Finally, he slowly strode toward her, ignoring her flinch as he set his hand on her pierced shoulder.
"He is alive, in the coop." His eyes caught hers as she stared up at him, pupils dilating as a most imploring expression came over her face.
"We cannot keep him."
It was a strange grief that he saw within her, one of acceptance, like a loss that no one could control. Carefully, she stood. "I will need to bind him." Picking up the necessary equipment, she walked past him.
"I will find him a home, Olivia. A safe one."
"I hope you do, Charles. I hope with -all- of my heart that you do."
(1897 words)
"No, it's fertile. See?" Careful fingers spun the stunted egg over the Corvisownian light they had bought just for this purpose. The Torquehelm hen pointed at the dark spot that was no doubt an embryo developing in the center. "Now you can stop your worrying. Come now, go ahead and put it back in the next before it gets cold."
Fertile. Yes, that was a good thing, wasn't it? Walking back to the nest, the rooster stared down at the mottled shell. So tiny... less than half the size of the other eggs. Surely.. there had to be something wrong with it? The Morganberry tried to keep these worries to himself... but he couldn't stand to have a dysfunctional child. His image... He couldn't risk it. With a grimace, he set down the tiny egg next to its siblings. Those two, healthy eggs. He had much hope for them. He couldn't say the same for the other.
-------
"See Charles? It's moving. It won't be long now." The brooding Torque hen crooned, moving a leg so as to show the little egg. Olivia had been so pleased that he was fighting for life; she was absolutely thrilled by his strength. Charles though, was disturbed. He'd hoped it would die in the shell. Of course, he'd kept this thought to himself. He'd never disturb his beloved Olivia with such thoughts. She so doted on her children, just as any mother should.
And so Charles waited in his study as the hours went by. This was his first batch of children, but even he knew that the task of breaking out of a shell was a long and grueling one. Hopefully their lineage of pure avians would somehow help in the process. Yes, he prided himself on that fact. Typically his family had stuck to Morganberries and the occasional mixed realm, but there was a convenience in marrying a Torquehelm that he could not deny. Her family was influential in that part, which made things most convenient for him while he set up his metal refinery there. Metal bindings were all the rage there; it only made sense that his company be set up where the most demand would be. After all, he'd be doing the area a favor by bringing in jobs and wealth into their country.
It was a marriage of convenience, for certain, but that wasn't to say Charles did not care for his wife. She was a very lovely hen, her black and purple plumage quite fetching. Even her binding, which he had founds most jarring when he'd first met her, had taken on its own charm. It certainly wasn't as extreme as some. A delicate choker was connected to chains that went through large loops pierced through muscle, and set behind bone, which trailed down all the way to shackles on her legs. This impeded any ability to fly, but then again chickens weren't really known for their prowess in the air. It -did- in fact give her a lovely refined posture befitting her status.
Charles smiled, taking a puff of his pipe. Yes, she was a darling woman, with a healthy rank as a 10 of Clubs that brought pride to his Suit, and accented his own rank of Jack quite nicely. She was born that way, he was told. That had pleased him because it meant if she hadn't ranked up by now, then she might never do so; he didn't know what he'd do if his wife eventually outranked him. That would have been a serious blow to his pride. But no, his lovely Olivia had too much respect for him to do that.
------
Olivia wouldn't bother her husband as the children were born. The children would be messy with egg goo, and she knew he wouldn't want to see that. Instead, she waited patiently as each egg began to crack, the smaller one being slower, but not completely lifeless. They were all healthy, and surely they'd all be -wonderful-.
The first was a Torquehelm male. Olivia's heart went out to this child, even as she hoped the next would be a full Morganberry. Charles so wanted a Morganberry. Her first child would not go without love though, and she ignored the child's cries as she pierced his wing and shackled it to his leg. "You will help us share our burdens, little one. You will understand this honor one day." She whispered, soothing the child as she set it back down in the nest. Hopefully the wound would stop bleeding and would be ready to clean before her husband arrived. He was truly a strapping little male, with a proud black Seven of Clubs emblazoned on his violet chest.
The second, thank the stars, was a Morganberry. No binding would be necessary for this little male. Oh, how he looked so much like his father. But the eyes... he had her eyes. Charles would be so proud. The Five of Clubs on his chest was somewhat disappointing, she was sure, but certainly with his Morganberry drive, the boy would excel.
The last egg took the longest, and the other two sons were already walking about and pecking about for food. She'd have to bring them some meal worms and grain after her last child hatched. The egg had formed several striations along the thick shell, but only now were the pieces falling away. The membranous coating within the egg was torn open by a tiny beak, followed by the tiny peeps of a healthy baby. Olivia's heart fluttered, crooning encouragement as the tiny chick finally pushed out. A flash of Morganberry and Torque colors pleased her greatly.. but he was so -tiny-, he'd probably fit in the palm of Charles' hand...
And that was when she saw the mark on his chest. Suddenly, it seemed all of Charles' barely concealed worries held much more merit as the veil of obliviousness was pulled from her eyes. The marking was that of an ugly, ominous 'A', followed by the Club suit that the parents had passed on. There was... so much of both her and Charles in this child, but the gaze in its dark, beady eyes as it looked up at his mother, though the love was imploring... it was obvious that there was something.. not quite right with it.
"Ch-Charles!!" He'd be so angry, but she could never hide this child from him. She didn't know what to do. There was no other choice than.. to tell him.
-----------
That tone could only mean something bad. Quickly, he snuffed out his pipe and strode into the room where his hen was watching over his brood. He had expected that perhaps the little egg had died, or maybe some near-dead, deformed creature had fallen from the shell and frightened her. He stopped, confused as he stared into his wife's horrified face, and then to the children. They all seemed healthy. Two very pure children of each realm struck him with joy, but then.. the small one. What was wrong with it? He ignored his sobbing wife and knelt before the tiny creature, turning it to face him. Aghast, he backed away from it, nearly falling over himself as he did so.
"How- how could this have happened? How could you have hatched such a thing, Olivia!?" He was shoving the blame to her in his anger; did she have some history of hatching Aces her father hadn't told him about? Had the Torque bastards inbred just a touch too long?
His wife's cries escalated to wails, throwing herself to his feet in grief. "I have done -nothing- to wrong you, husband! Please.. please! Don't be upset with mee..."
Gritting his beak, the rooster stepped over the prone hen, snatching the ace up by its wings and turning away with it to head out the door.
"DON'T YOU HURT HIM! PLEASE! PLEEAAASE...."
Her screams echoed in his mind as he strode out the door. This could never get out. He'd be ruined if anyone had known he'd... -produced- this.... creature. A chopping block was set some ways outside the cottage, and he stopped at it, looking down at the crying, flailing creature in his hand. How... abnormal.
Don't you hurt him!
His hand gripped the handle he held the child down with his clawed foot, using his strong, bipedal form to hoist the axe.. His hands shook.
He couldn't do it.
The axe dropped to the ground, the Morganberry rooster falling down to his knees before the squealing, upset child. "I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry..."
The babe couldn't understand, but in its young age, it sought comfort from the man who had nearly killed him, crying softly as he sought shelter from the cold night air beneath his father's wing. But Charles could not let him. This could not be his son. He picked him up, gentler than he had before, taking him into the chicken coop that he owned. Hastily, he put him into the pen and shut the door, ignoring the cries, and ignoring his own tears pouring down his feathered face.
"I'm... so sorry.."
---------
The child couldn't understand what had just happened, nor would he remember as he got older, but that night, he sought shelter from the cold with the non-sentient chickens that roosted in that pen, sought the warmth of a brooding female that let him near. It was not his mother, not the card that in some instinctual way he knew he was... but when a creature was desperate for nurturing, a secondary imprint could be made for the sake of survival.
He would beat the odds; he would survive.
-------
When Charles came back into the house, he was more or less composed, though his eyes were set deep in their sockets with a pain that Olivia had never seen in her husband. Still, her own gaze was set as grief stricken, and angry. "I'll never forgive you."
This made him stop in his tracks, staring at his wife carefully as her chest heaved up and down, her two remaining children held carefully to her side. For a moment, Charles made no move toward or away from her, dumbstruck. It was in these moments when a person could truly decide if they had love for a person. The fact that her words stabbed him to the point the tears nearly flowed again, answered this question. Finally, he slowly strode toward her, ignoring her flinch as he set his hand on her pierced shoulder.
"He is alive, in the coop." His eyes caught hers as she stared up at him, pupils dilating as a most imploring expression came over her face.
"We cannot keep him."
It was a strange grief that he saw within her, one of acceptance, like a loss that no one could control. Carefully, she stood. "I will need to bind him." Picking up the necessary equipment, she walked past him.
"I will find him a home, Olivia. A safe one."
"I hope you do, Charles. I hope with -all- of my heart that you do."
(1897 words)
Can't wait to read the next part!
