Penhoor
Maggot
Posts : 35
Join date : 2010-03-29
Age : 41
 | | Subject: There's a Battle on the Field (Odrii Jungle, Open to one and all, seriously, bring on chaos and I wouldn't mind) Fri Jun 25, 2010 7:14 am | |
| Nothing. Honeysuckle had nothing left worth of any real value. Oh, she had the jar of Royal Jelly tucked safely in her satchel, wrapped in the soft lining of her hive she’d ripped off in haste. Useless stuff, under the circumstances. It didn’t even taste all that great, she thought. She’d stopped eating it when the threat of becoming a fertile queen started to flicker in her lower belly like a tingling warning.
Feeling the jar rub against her thigh, she had to fight the urge not to rip it from the pack, fling it to the ground and stomp it under her barbed feet. She could sell the jar at the next market she made it to or barter it for better supplies, perhaps better clothes than the ragged cloak she was wrapped in. Some considered the potent delicacy an aphrodisiac. Some hymes preferred it for its fertility properties. Honeysuckle had been feeding her larval sister the jam until she’d-
No…Best not to think of such thoughts. Malik was gone and didn’t need her anymore. Bitterness crept through body, stiffening her spine and her steps grew heavier even with her light tread. My little Queen survives an invasion and is decimated by illness. Damn everything in this unfair world!
Under her cloak, her wings twitched like paper against one another and against her abdomen. Honeysuckle was aptly named, not because she was sweet, but because her colors matched the fragrant flower. She wasn’t an exotic beauty or a rare specimen. She was every day as her fellow angel bees. Delicate shade of butter yellow and white wings, soft fuzz ruffling across her shoulders in a wrap handed down from ancestors to ancestors.
She had all the royal bearings of a queen in the making. Her stride was sure and strong, yet graceful. Years of balancing large urns filled with water on her head had shaped her poise under strict tutors. Her large green eyes were as vivid as the leafy greens around her, as was typical for her species. The scraps of a once grand gown peaked underneath the ratty robe. Torn stockings irritated her legs. She was the broken tableau of royalty in every regard.
“This life is a punishment…”
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