Life And Death
It was bright. I had finally managed to wrench myself to freedom. As my head poked out, my eyes were met with a light so blinding they instinctively closed. Even like this, I was still in discomfort, and all I could do was let out a cry. My first breath of air set my lungs on fire. It was as if there I was being burned alive from inside. 'Yes, this is it, the struggle, the pain, I remember these familiar sensations, this is what it means to be alive.' I greedily took gulps of air, immersed in the sensation, as two hands firmly grasped my body and pulled me free.
The hands were coarse and hurt my skin as they cradled my vulnerable form. Multiple voices reached my ears which I now recognised were coming from several females frantically conversing. They were most likely trying to save my mother, but their attempts would be futile in the end. Her life had been forfeit as soon as I began absorbing her flow to fuel my escape. The soft feeling of fabric brushing against my skin provided a new experience amongst the already numerous others, as I was gently wiped clean of whatever blood and viscera covered my body.
I gradually got used to the overload of stimulation bombarding my newborn body and could finally put together a few coherent thoughts. My eyes were still much too sensitive to open and get a view of my surroundings, so I went back to sensing the flow, and there was an immediate change as soon as I tried to do so. I could feel and sense my own flow just fine, but when trying to perceive others, it seemed much more muted, as if there was an added layer in between me and my target obscuring my view if compared to before.
Still, even with this obstructed vision, I could make out the blurry image of the female was cradling me in addition to three other females huddling together performing peculiar actions. I could feel the tube connecting me to my mother led towards that area. It soon dawned on me that the three females were still trying to save my mother. She was well and truly dead at this point if the lack of flow within her body was a sign, but these women seemed adamant in trying to revive her. Even if one couldn't sense the flow, they should have realised by now it was a futile attempt, so I wonder why they are so determined.
The woman rocked me back and forth while conversing with the others, probably telling them to stop, which they did shortly after. There was a moment of silence as all the individuals came to terms with what had just happened. A mother had just died while giving birth, a life for a life. As this solemn moment took place, I heard shouting coming from a distance. It was getting louder, so I presumed that they were getting closer.
The woman cradling me started jabbering towards the others, and they moved swiftly, following her instructions. I felt the tube connecting me to my mother being severed as I was wrapped tightly in cloth before being carried away from the commotion that was only escalating.
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Smiðr was well and truly at his wit's end, even with his close friend Fjǫrnir providing company to ease his worries. It had been hours since the birthing began, and he had not heard any news from the midwives in charge of the process. The wind blew past him, highlighting the cold sweat that covered his body, the chilling sensation finally pulling his mind out from the downward spiral it had been trapped in.
His head slowly turned towards the direction of the house, the sun's rays illuminating the desperate look that had emerged in his eyes. After a moment of deliberation, he uttered in a low tone, "I'm going in, it's been hours, and they haven't even come back with any news…" His voice was low and guttural, as if trying to portray all the dark thoughts going through his mind. The tone with which those words were spoken startled Fjǫrnir, and before he could dissuade his friend from doing anything rash, he saw him already on the way to the front door.
"STOP!!! IT'S A BAD OMEN TO INTERFERE WITHOUT THE PERMISSION OF THE HOUSEWIVES!!!" Fjǫrnir roared, running after his long-time friend. Smiðr had already made it to the front door by the time he caught up. It was thrown open, disrupting the still atmosphere that permeated the house. Smiðr stormed towards the room where his wife was giving birth, his footsteps reverberating through the house. Fjǫrnir tried to stop him by placing a hand on his shoulder, but it was swatted away. Right as Smiðr's hand formed a fist ready to pound on the room door, it was opened by one of the housewives.
Smiðr's eyes swept over the housewife whose head was down in a subservient posture with her hands tightly gripped together as she slowly moved aside to allow both men into the room. The solemn looks on all the faces of the housewives only added to his worries, and he feared his worst nightmares had come true. Smiðr could hear his heart beating almost as if it were right beside his ear as he slowly made his way towards the bed where his wife lay. The sheets were crimson red, this amount would surely be fatal for anyone, but he still held hope lest his mind completely breaks down.
The two remaining housewives in the room stood to the side, heads lowered, not daring to move as he came before his wife. Her face was pale, but that didn't take away from her looks. She was by no means what one would call a beauty but was definitely pleasing to the eyes. Her auburn hair was twisted and stuck to her forehead due to the sweat that had accumulated during the gruelling and deadly birthing process.
As Smiðr gazed upon his wife's unmoving form, he couldn't help but reminisce about all the memories they had together. From how he had won her heart despite others trying to dissuade him for attempting to court one of their strongest warriors while he wasn't one himself. They would have excited talks about how their life would change once they had a child. Their struggles of trying to conceive a child were not easy, and at many times, they thought their marriage was not blessed by the Great Guardian, but when Ljós finally got pregnant, the joy he felt could not be described.
It was honestly one of the happiest moments of his life. But now, staring at the love of his life's cold, lifeless body, these moments no longer brought him happiness but instead deep sadness and remorse. The emotions that had been building up inside him all day finally burst forth. He wept like never before in his life. He was so blinded with emotion that he did not even inquire about the status of his child.
Fjǫrnir was at the doorway too shocked at the events that had unfolded to comfort his friend and could only stand there in silence as he grieved in his own way. It was considered a great shame for a warrior to die like this and not on in battle, and he knew his dear friend's life would only get more challenging from now on.
The sound of wailing could be heard coming from a stone house, the once bright sun dimming as if sharing in the sadness within.
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After being wrapped in cloth, the woman cradling me took a side door out of the house. 'Isn't she meant to present me to my father if I have one? Who was it that was making a commotion before she took me away?' These were my thoughts as she held me close and kept walking. Being unable to observe anything as my eyes were too sensitive to open, so I decided to rest. The thought did occur to cry to draw attention to us on the off chance I had been kidnapped. But if this woman was confident enough to abduct me in broad daylight, she probably had sufficient authority to negate any inquiries into the situation. Eventually, I could feel myself being placed on a soft surface, most likely some sort of mattress and the comfortable sensation allowed me to fall into a much-needed sleep.
It's been a few days since my birth. I gained some semblance of sight during this time, though my eyes would often lose focus and wander without conscious control. From what I could see, I was in a cot. There was a bed opposite me, most likely for whoever my caretaker was. An open window allowed sunlight to illuminate the room, the chirping of birds could be heard, and the scent of nature wafted past my nostrils. I enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere.
The wooden door to the room creaked open, disrupting the once calm atmosphere. A woman walked in and made her way over to me as I observed her. She wore a long-sleeved white dress that reached to her ankles. Over that was a shorter crimson coloured dress held up by shoulder straps which were fastened by brooches. She had fair skin and blonde hair that fell across her face as she peered down at me, her blue eyes almost feeling like they would pierce me at any moment.
Deciding to break the tension as I didn't know what she would do if it got any worse. Inhaling a lungful of air, putting on my biggest smile, I laughed or at least tried to. It seemed my body was still not entirely under my control yet, as halfway through, I choked on my own saliva, the laugh turning into a cough. At least my goal was achieved as the woman let out a slight chuckle and started cleaning me. Once done, she wrapped me in what looked like a luxurious cloth before carrying me out of the room.
As the woman walked through the house, other people she passed by would greet her respectfully while she acted like they didn't exist. We entered what looked like a large hall, stone pillars held the ceiling up, and hanging candelabras cast down dim light onto the various people sitting at tables conversing. When they laid eyes on her, all immediately rose to their feet as a sign of acknowledgement. The group was comprised of both women and men, and they gave way as the women carried me towards the entrance of the house.
All the women wore similar outfits, albeit in different colours, decorative designs, and differing jewellery. The men wore tunics and trousers, with belts that held their tunics in place. A large man was waiting at the entrance that the woman came up to and stood beside. He had dark brown shoulder-length hair and a beard. He also wore tunic and trousers, except they were more extravagant than the others. A cape was draped over him, made out of what I could only describe as fur; it was dark brown in colour with intermittent splashes of a lighter shade.
He similarly stared at me much the same way the woman first did though he was far more intimidating. It felt like I was being stared at by a hungry predator, something that made my body shiver with fear. He let out a sigh and briefly conversed with the woman before pushing open the stone doors that barred the entrance. They walked out of the house side by side while the others followed behind them in an orderly fashion.
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The traditional clothes people wear. <PIC>
The reason mc found it harder to sense things once he used the flow outside his mother's body was that previously, as they were connected, his flow by hers. But now, since she's dead and his cord is cut, he lost the boost.
As for what the 'flow' is, it should be pretty obvious if you're familiar with Avatar or wuxia. If you're not, it will be explained in the upcoming chaps.