Work Text:
Laura. Dead.
Those words did not make any sense to Morana. It could not be. She could not be dead. Dear little Laura. She was Morana’s own creation, a creature of her own blood. Morana should know if she had died. But somehow she had felt nothing. Yet in the girl’s mind she could find no sign of deceit. Just fear and anguish, as she cowered in the corner of the room.
There was a hint of a connection, too. Yes, there was no doubt that this fledgling had been created by Laura, shared her blood as well. But it just could not be. It could not be.
The girl was trembling, but Morana realized only after a moment that she was trembling as well. Only when Striga pulled her into a firm embrace, did she notice her own tremble, her own tears as well. She did not want to let go of etiquette, did not want to break down with sobs, but it was hard. So hard.
Striga just held her. Held her close. A strong hand caressed the back of Morana’s back, as she just wanted to hide, wanted to hide from the world, that had proven its cruelty once more.
Finally, Striga pushed her away for just enough to look at her. She did not speak, instead just caressing Morana’s cheek. Their foreheads touched for a moment, before Striga pushed a gentle kiss against Morana’s lips. Only then did she look over to the girl. “Someone needs to take care of her.”
It was nothing that Morana wanted to think of right now, her mind still reeling. Yet, she sighed, so desperately holding back another sob. “I know.”
“I will give her a bath,” Striga said, her gaze now pinned on the girl. “After that, we’ll see.”