Dancing Flames [Early May 2982] (Runa) (CW)
Nov 27, 2017 20:11:42 GMT -5
Post by Ceolmund on Nov 27, 2017 20:11:42 GMT -5
(Content warning: child abuse)
It was a warm spring evening in early May. The birds were singing in the waving grasses and the clouds passed over them in the purple sky. Ceolmund had tucked himself within a woody bush on the plains and was quiet as a mouse, his blue eyes peered out at the feet moving before him. He was going on four years old, though tall for his age. He may have passed for a year or two older than he was by height, but his face was still round and babyish, and his large eyes bright blue and innocent.
Now the year moved round, and the season's in a circle, but the little boy did not rightly remember in which order things came and went. It was Beltane, Sunni had said. He faintly remembered the Beltane of the year past. Dancing, music, and a big fire shooting up in the darkness. He had fallen asleep then, and not woken until the next morning, and still remembered the smell of the smoke, and the storyteller speaking of faeries to the children. He could not rightly remember if the day had been real or something out of his imagination, for he was often taken away to fantasy. Especially with Hakon. He looked down to the soft brown horse clutched in his arms. It's one shell bead eye looked back up at him and he smiled down. “Hakon, wew we see the fawies today?” he whispered.
“Ceolmund!” A voice shrieked out above the leaves and the child flinched, eyes widening as he fell over backwards. “Ceolmund it's time for milk! Ceolmund, where are you? You know not to hide from your Mother.”
The leaves rustled in the bush, and he saw the woman over him hunch down, her eyes looking through the leaves right to him.
“Ceolmund, I know you're in there,” she hissed. “Obey your Mother. Sunni! Get him out of there.”
“Yes, Mother!” Sunnifa answered quickly. She was a gangly girl of seven years, and she quickly made way to crawl under the bush.
“I don't want mewk,” Ceolmund pouted.
“Come on, Ceol, you best listen to Mother, or she'll make us go home,” the little girl spoke softly to him. “I want to see them dance. Don't you?”
The little boy pondered for a moment, a pouting look still upon his face.
“Hildred will be dancing,” Sunnifa whispered, glancing upwards to see that Elin had not stooped and heard her. “She always does. I bet she'll dance with you.”
“Ceolmund!” Elin shrieked down into the bush. “Sunni, get him out!”
Sunnifa began to crawl back outwards; the hem of her dress now dirtied from the earth beneath her, and Ceolmund crawled behind.
“Come on, Ceolmund,” Elin said, settling herself down in a prominent location and patting her lap. “Come have your milk.”
The little boy frowned, but his sister gave him a shove. “I want to get some cidew fwom the cawt wike Sunni,” he said quietly, almost a whisper.
“You're not old enough for that,” Elin answered promptly, grabbing the little boy by the arm and pulling him upon her lap while she bared her breast to the world. Ceolmund frowned, looking back toward the families on the green. A few were watching. He sat still, ill at ease upon his mother's lap until she grasped his head and pulled it to her. “Drink your milk, Ceolmund.”
The little boy leaned in obediently to take his milk, clutching his Mother in one hand, and Hakon in the other, though he was not settled. He was torn between the warmth and comfort of the only true affection Mother offered, yet he was the only boy not allowed to drink the cider, and use a cup. Sunni had a pretty silver cup she would often sneak him tastes from when Mother was not looking. Aside from that, the other children teased. They spoke to him in voices that were unkind, and called him a baby.
Sunni told him he was a big boy. But Mother had not let her use a cup until Ceolmund had been born, and she was sure when Mother had another baby, she would let him use a cup as well. Ceolmund waited and wondered when that day would come as he sucked down his drink. He would not mind a baby to play with.
At the thought, his eyes flicked over to the fires where the men and women, and boys and girls were dancing. The sun was already setting in the sky, and the figures were silhouettes without faces, though one he recognized. A woman moving joyfully about to the music. He could almost hear her laughing! And her belly was large and round. She had whispered to Ceolmund that she was soon going to have a little baby soon. A new friend for him.
Ceolmund sat still across his Mother's lap a moment longer, and then suddenly unlatched and leapt up, running for the bonfires, milk still dripping down his chin. “Hewdwed!” he called, louder than he had spoken all the day, and when he reached her, he threw his arms about her legs, Hakon still clutched in hand. He smiled as he stood on his toes to press his cheek against he roundness of Hildred's belly, and closed his eyes in pleasure as he felt the warmth of her on one side, and the warmth of the leaping flames behind him.
It was a warm spring evening in early May. The birds were singing in the waving grasses and the clouds passed over them in the purple sky. Ceolmund had tucked himself within a woody bush on the plains and was quiet as a mouse, his blue eyes peered out at the feet moving before him. He was going on four years old, though tall for his age. He may have passed for a year or two older than he was by height, but his face was still round and babyish, and his large eyes bright blue and innocent.
Now the year moved round, and the season's in a circle, but the little boy did not rightly remember in which order things came and went. It was Beltane, Sunni had said. He faintly remembered the Beltane of the year past. Dancing, music, and a big fire shooting up in the darkness. He had fallen asleep then, and not woken until the next morning, and still remembered the smell of the smoke, and the storyteller speaking of faeries to the children. He could not rightly remember if the day had been real or something out of his imagination, for he was often taken away to fantasy. Especially with Hakon. He looked down to the soft brown horse clutched in his arms. It's one shell bead eye looked back up at him and he smiled down. “Hakon, wew we see the fawies today?” he whispered.
“Ceolmund!” A voice shrieked out above the leaves and the child flinched, eyes widening as he fell over backwards. “Ceolmund it's time for milk! Ceolmund, where are you? You know not to hide from your Mother.”
The leaves rustled in the bush, and he saw the woman over him hunch down, her eyes looking through the leaves right to him.
“Ceolmund, I know you're in there,” she hissed. “Obey your Mother. Sunni! Get him out of there.”
“Yes, Mother!” Sunnifa answered quickly. She was a gangly girl of seven years, and she quickly made way to crawl under the bush.
“I don't want mewk,” Ceolmund pouted.
“Come on, Ceol, you best listen to Mother, or she'll make us go home,” the little girl spoke softly to him. “I want to see them dance. Don't you?”
The little boy pondered for a moment, a pouting look still upon his face.
“Hildred will be dancing,” Sunnifa whispered, glancing upwards to see that Elin had not stooped and heard her. “She always does. I bet she'll dance with you.”
“Ceolmund!” Elin shrieked down into the bush. “Sunni, get him out!”
Sunnifa began to crawl back outwards; the hem of her dress now dirtied from the earth beneath her, and Ceolmund crawled behind.
“Come on, Ceolmund,” Elin said, settling herself down in a prominent location and patting her lap. “Come have your milk.”
The little boy frowned, but his sister gave him a shove. “I want to get some cidew fwom the cawt wike Sunni,” he said quietly, almost a whisper.
“You're not old enough for that,” Elin answered promptly, grabbing the little boy by the arm and pulling him upon her lap while she bared her breast to the world. Ceolmund frowned, looking back toward the families on the green. A few were watching. He sat still, ill at ease upon his mother's lap until she grasped his head and pulled it to her. “Drink your milk, Ceolmund.”
The little boy leaned in obediently to take his milk, clutching his Mother in one hand, and Hakon in the other, though he was not settled. He was torn between the warmth and comfort of the only true affection Mother offered, yet he was the only boy not allowed to drink the cider, and use a cup. Sunni had a pretty silver cup she would often sneak him tastes from when Mother was not looking. Aside from that, the other children teased. They spoke to him in voices that were unkind, and called him a baby.
Sunni told him he was a big boy. But Mother had not let her use a cup until Ceolmund had been born, and she was sure when Mother had another baby, she would let him use a cup as well. Ceolmund waited and wondered when that day would come as he sucked down his drink. He would not mind a baby to play with.
At the thought, his eyes flicked over to the fires where the men and women, and boys and girls were dancing. The sun was already setting in the sky, and the figures were silhouettes without faces, though one he recognized. A woman moving joyfully about to the music. He could almost hear her laughing! And her belly was large and round. She had whispered to Ceolmund that she was soon going to have a little baby soon. A new friend for him.
Ceolmund sat still across his Mother's lap a moment longer, and then suddenly unlatched and leapt up, running for the bonfires, milk still dripping down his chin. “Hewdwed!” he called, louder than he had spoken all the day, and when he reached her, he threw his arms about her legs, Hakon still clutched in hand. He smiled as he stood on his toes to press his cheek against he roundness of Hildred's belly, and closed his eyes in pleasure as he felt the warmth of her on one side, and the warmth of the leaping flames behind him.