DAGNY -- d7 // FIN

[lucius branwen / 10 — fox]

dagny forrester, 16
new day

[lucius branwen / 10 — fox]

D   A   G   N   Y

when i die, i will be given to nourish the earth. my blood will feed the temper of the gods, the insects, and the ferns. i'll live in the veins of the forest, the hum of its breath.

and one day there will be the death of the gods too. the giants will rise in monoliths of flesh from the hills, our earth trembling like a newborn babe in the strange awakening of a new world.

we are of eternal return.

death is

passing.

but i do not like this.

(i was born in the winter.)

the helping women chanted incantations, cutting runes into my mother's fists, pressing drops of tincture and flowers of wild quinine on her lips. the world was the colour of fresh bone, and i bled from her like a cardinal lost in the snow.

it was a difficult birth, unsoftened by herbs or incense or ritual.

i became an unyielding and tormenting organ, a mass of blood and anger that pulsed hungry inside her, yearning for air, eating the meat of her womb. in the evening, they called for a midwife who lived in the district. she was a young woman, dovelike and new and cautious in her craft.

for hours and hours, my mother laboured. but the night was silent, and on the morning of the second day, the midwife declared me dead.

my mother --

she stood, the strength of a prayer guiding her blade as she struck the district girl with a scalpel to her neck. and she stood, plucking me from her own womb, tugging me into the world by the foot.

Dagny,

she named me. i had eyes of the winter, hair of snow. the sun rose with me, and i cried.

all i needed was a sacrifice.

i am -- awakening.

when a hawk clipped the wings of a sparrow i did not kill her. i gave her the feathers of a finch.

when i found a stag bitten by coyotes, i did not kill him. i gave him the thread of silkworms.

my sweet Terje came to me when i was twelve, torn apart by wolves. i could see his intestines glisten when he heaved for breath.

and by then, i had seen the bodies of different animals, both in the forest and on our altars. i had cleaned their carcasses, examined their skeletons, boiled and bleached their bones. i had put together their anatomies by pencil in notebooks, pinned herbs into booklets, and learned of our ancient remedies by firelight. i had broken the necks off robins and rabbits before they bled out in my hands -- poor creatures i did not yet know how to revive. i had mourned them. i had buried them. i had let them go.

my sisters and brothers before me knew when an animal would pass, knew when the trees, the endless number of sighing mouths, demanded them back for the roots. they could read the tongues of the leaves, feel the mighty gods stir and shake the distant mountains.

i don't have the gift of this knowledge. i have not known well enough the touch of death taking from me. when my little cat came to me, i did not kill him. i wanted him to live.

so he did.

my mother does not like this.

it is against nature. an abomination.

why mother? the gods have given me resurrecting hands. the gods have given me life.

mother, you had not let me pass when the midwife said i died.

mother, i was born drinking not your milk, but the blood of a maiden killed for me.

my Terje hums against my hand, curling around my arm until he finds a comfortable spot on my shoulder. he purrs in hues of molten gold, and i give him a pat.

i take life. i give life. that is my nature.

THE LAND IS UNCHANGED.

[lucius branwen / 10 — fox]

ripred_bot

just an animal lover !!

[Tom]

Whoa! Fox this bio is just absolutely gorgeous. I love the way you've made an animal lover fit the Forrester Cult aesthetic. Just fantastic work!