|
|
last online Apr 18, 2024 3:08:02 GMT -7
|
|
|
Dec 10, 2018 11:16:46 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Dec 10, 2018 11:16:46 GMT -7
DELILAH cannot remember a time when she did not know of her mother's extraordinary pedigree. Hela always had a way with words, and believed it her sworn duty to inform her daughter of her glorious and superior ancestry and purpose. Each bedtime was atypical, no kiss on the head or caterpillar tuck in. There were no pictures in the books Hela read from, rather she thought her mere presence was picture enough for a young Delilah to bask in. Hela's masterful speeches picked down from Veela to Veela, painting awe-inspiring tales of fate and folly, where the No-Maj's would often be prey, and the wizards formidable enemies and allies.
Though each night, when Hela ran out of stories about herself, she'd reach over and twirl a piece of Delilah's fair hair, a secret smile on her face unbearably beautiful face. She'd lean in very close until Delilah could smell the salt on her skin, so pale and crystalline it looked as if it were forged in the trenches of Our Lady on The Moon.
"Sweet," She preen, like she were looking down at something she might just eat. "You are of the sky and the sea and the air they all breathe." And Delilah would forget about sleep, her eyes pinned wide, enraptured by greatness. "I am Veela," with an air of unreachable prestige, creating stars in Delilah's eyes. "Your father a Wizard, a man of Magic." Delilah would lean in more as she imagined the man who helped create her, no mere mortal but a being who could bend light and earth and the laws of the Universe. "You are each individually, and both at the same time." And then she would pet Delilah, and the girl would almost purr at the rare display of affection. "You will be Great," Hela declared. "Because we made you to be." And then Hela would turn out all the lights and drift from the room without another word, her silhouette a source of infinite light as Delilah drifted to sleep by the glow of her.
|
|
|
|