Chapter Text
The Mother, as the Dole called her, lived in white for as long as she could remember. White robes, white walls, white feathers, white lights. The only thing the Mother ever saw without white was her own wings, black as night. Her wings and the egg left in her memories. The only thing left in her memories.
In the white halls the doves poked and prodded her. They took from her. She didn’t know what, exactly, nor what they did with it. But she knew something was missing each time. A feather, a nail, a chunk of hair, something of hers. Almost as if they wanted to scrub the color away from her and turn her as white as the walls, the hall, the feathers.
Yet she remained.
The Mother must be her name for a reason, she used to think. But why? Could it be the egg of her memories, the one every robed bird told her never existed. Was that her child?
No. If that were her child, she must have a mate. She would remember a mate. Wouldn’t she?
Eventually, all those thoughts faded into white, as did all her others. She stopped questioning her name, for it just was. There would be no reason.
And still, still, the only thought that would not fade into white, would not stop tormenting her, was the egg.
The longer the Mother stayed in the white halls — how long had it been? Years, decades, longer, she didn’t know. Still, every second that passed, was a second she thought of the egg. The one piece of color still with her. Then, one day, it started taking over. She saw it in the white halls, the white walls, the white robes, and in the white feathers. But more than all of that, she saw it in her own feathers, the same color as her egg.
So she started tearing and tearing, black surrounding her vision, trying to find her way to the root of the color, where her egg had to be.
Until they tore her off of herself, put her in restraints, and she heard the whispers.
“Oh, dear, she’s gone mad!”
“Do you think this will affect the eggs?”
“Shh, not where she can hear!”
“What does it matter, she’s already lost her mind.”
The words didn’t really matter much, she’d stopped caring what they said long ago. Stopped hearing. All she really heard anymore was the sound of white. But one of those words, oh one single thing they said around her then — that wasn’t white. No, no, it was full of color, like her wings, like her egg!
Did they have her egg?
No, they mustn't, but they must know where it is. It is not here, not in the white halls she remained in. Her egg must be out there, somewhere.
And this thought exploded with color. As time passed, it did not fade like the others. It remained, circling in her head.
My egg is out there, my egg is out there, my egg, my egg, my egg!
Yet, the thoughts did no good when she never could leave. And she was worse off now that she was in restraints. She couldn’t remember why she was placed in them, and as more time passed, she forgot she ever had no restraints.
But she knew, if she ever was let out of them, she would find her egg, out there. No matter what.
Time was hard to track, but feathers were not. White was not. And she knew she was seeing less feathers, less white feathers. Where had they gone?
Eventually, there were none left. She was alone in the white, with only thoughts of her egg. She stayed like this until she heard a voice, louder then the white feathers ever were, and more colorful, too.
“Those Dole bastards. Even when disbanded, they make it hell to find where they hid them all. This is a pretty secluded little spot though, maybe some of them are here.”
Footsteps then. Louder, closer, more than the one voice could make. Or so the Mother thought. She didn't truly know, until the group came to where she remained, and all he could see was color.
The most colorful of all looked right at her, with feathers just like hers! …Or so she thought. She didn’t have feathers anymore — what had happened to them?
They should be here, she could’ve sworn she had the most colorful wings before, so colorful, just like the boy before her.
The boy was still looking at her, why was that? Was he going to set her free, let her look for her egg?
But he made no move toward her, simply uttered one colorful word.
“Mom?”