[ Diva's uncertain as uncertain things go. To keep the egg, or not to keep the egg? It does so remind her of her own, still sitting in their basket by the hearth. It's been five months already. Surely they should be speaking to her by now...
But that's digressing and it's with a quiet murmur, the near silent thud of a blanket cocooning her phone that speaks to the viewer. It's the gentle crone of a mother singing to her as yet unborn children that drifts on dulcet tones through the speaker as she sits with her back bent over her basket, rocking it gently in the sun.
And then she speaks. ] Tell me, has anyone tried to cook their eggs? Perhaps if I feed it to them, they'll start to grow...
[ it was blood that awoke her and Saya after all. Perhaps that's exactly what they needed to start flourishing. Five months... they should be pulsing with life, not death. They should be more then just a withered husk. ]
But that's digressing and it's with a quiet murmur, the near silent thud of a blanket cocooning her phone that speaks to the viewer. It's the gentle crone of a mother singing to her as yet unborn children that drifts on dulcet tones through the speaker as she sits with her back bent over her basket, rocking it gently in the sun.
And then she speaks. ] Tell me, has anyone tried to cook their eggs? Perhaps if I feed it to them, they'll start to grow...
[ it was blood that awoke her and Saya after all. Perhaps that's exactly what they needed to start flourishing. Five months... they should be pulsing with life, not death. They should be more then just a withered husk. ]
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