Override if AppropriateI'm only guessing at what you would allow here, Eva-dear. If you would refuse this action, tell me so, I will write it shorter. If its allowed, I just didn't want to ruin the flow, and thought it would let us wrap up quicker.
Philomena mused quietly at the woman's words. She was silent a moment, then worked up onto her elbow with a great strain of her plague-gnarled back. Her eyes squeezed shut in pain then, as she fought to a sitting position. She was pale, and her hollow wasted face a little green in the cheeks. Her breath came faster, both with the strain and with her emotion, as she stared, almost blind-eyed at the girl. Then, very slowly, and with her breath bated she leaned forward licking her dry lips, and awkwardly found the girls mouth. The kiss was soft, and rough-skinned, the tiny sharp corners of dry, flaking epidermis like a rough rasp across the collapsing mouth. She was feverishly hot against the frozen child-skin, and her breath could not hold back long, running fast with the pain involved in leaning her belly forward, running in a channel across the child's face, and down to pool in her hollow collarbones. And now, tears came, the quivering of shut eyes and tired face sending them plashing hot onto the girls cheeks, lashes.
And she leaned back again, silent just a moment, before saying, "My sweet-child, my ancient mother. Before all these things, my sister. If I am deserving of your side, oh fair one.... if I am. It is only because I have refused your offer. Would you have a love who came crawling to you by cowardice? No, oh my fair one. If I live, I shall write you. If I die... then when you find another scribe, perhaps, you will make of me a footnote."
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Philomena mused quietly at the woman's words. She was silent a moment, then worked up onto her elbow with a great strain of her plague-gnarled back. Her eyes squeezed shut in pain then, as she fought to a sitting position. She was pale, and her hollow wasted face a little green in the cheeks. Her breath came faster, both with the strain and with her emotion, as she stared, almost blind-eyed at the girl. Then, very slowly, and with her breath bated she leaned forward licking her dry lips, and awkwardly found the girls mouth. The kiss was soft, and rough-skinned, the tiny sharp corners of dry, flaking epidermis like a rough rasp across the collapsing mouth. She was feverishly hot against the frozen child-skin, and her breath could not hold back long, running fast with the pain involved in leaning her belly forward, running in a channel across the child's face, and down to pool in her hollow collarbones. And now, tears came, the quivering of shut eyes and tired face sending them plashing hot onto the girls cheeks, lashes.
And she leaned back again, silent just a moment, before saying, "My sweet-child, my ancient mother. Before all these things, my sister. If I am deserving of your side, oh fair one.... if I am. It is only because I have refused your offer. Would you have a love who came crawling to you by cowardice? No, oh my fair one. If I live, I shall write you. If I die... then when you find another scribe, perhaps, you will make of me a footnote."
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