_mebh_ @ 2008-07-09T10:45:00

2008-07-09T14:55:43Z

Title: Procul Recedant Somnia

Rating: Mature for concepts; mention of various sexual activities.

Pairing/Characters: Mal/River, Kaylee/Simon, Zoe, Jayne

Disclaimers: Just playing in Joss’s ‘verse. I own nothing, nor make any profit from this. Unbetaed.

Spoilers: Mild for “ The Message” and BDM

Summary: Part 3 of what was supposed to be a three-part series, but is becoming a four, or possibly five. Direct continuation of “The Chinese Symbol For War.” Actions have consequences.

Author’s Note: My apologies to everyone who has been waiting for this since- xin-xen de gao-wen – November? Damn you, life! ::shakes impotent fist::

Days go by and become weeks, and the weeks become months and what once was is no longer and new things stand in old places.

On a sunny morning not long after the confrontation on the bridge, Inara walks off Serenity at a thriving city-port on Sihnon and never looks back. Her departure is witnessed by Kaylee and Simon, waving from the bay doors and River, in her head. Mal refuses to have anything to do with it. No one ventures an opinion as to where Jayne might be, let alone what he might be doing to say farewell. There are limits, after all.

Mal hasn’t spoken a word to the Companion since she ran from the cockpit to wake Simon, and the rest of the ship in the process, whereupon she informed them all in icy tones and precise description just what she had seen.

River keeps the memory of it locked tight in a room in the back of her mind she doesn’t like to visit.

Simon, predictably,lunged for Mal and had to be held back by Zoe and Kaylee combined. There was shouting, accusations, recriminations, all as Zoe had figured there would be. In the midst of it stood River, silent, the only stillness in the room. Simon threatened; Mal defended; Inara shrilled. Jayne kept asking what he was doing there and Kaylee was practically dizzy trying to figure out who to placate.

Occasionally, River would make a soft, inarticulate sound of distress no one heard over all the angry voices.

No one save Mal, who placed his hand on her shoulder, drawing her to his side. She tucked up against him, looked out at them from the shelter of his arm and curled her fingers into his shirt.

“ Ain’t no more discussing of this, dong ma?” He said, staring each of them down in turn. “ Things is as they is and that’s that.”

“ Mei mei, have you any idea-”

“ Plenty.” She answered, the first word she’d spoken. “ As many as you. As many as Kaylee. Crazy, Simon, not stupid.”

“ River, I simply cannot allow-”

Mal made a grumbling noise somewhere in his chest, stepping forward so that River had to tighten the curl of her fingers and restrain him by the fabric of his shirt.

“ No.” She said, clearly. “ No, you don’t make my decisions anymore. I’m a person, Simon, actual and real.”

The words brought a sliver of a smile to Mal’s face, and briefly, he touched his lips to her hair. There was a sound of choking from somewhere behind them.

“ River.” There was something close to panic in Simon’s voice, something raw and spiraling rapidly upward.“ What am I supposed to do? I know, physically...”

His voice trailed off and his face went momentarily slack as certain implications came to him.

“ You bastard.” He said to the air, in general, very softly. “Oh, chi ni de, wang ba dan.”

His eyes, full of accusation and fire, shot to Mal’s, who wanted to flinch, but did not.

“ If you think she can be forced, or even coerced, you’re a bigger fool, Doc, than even I would say.” Mal answered, for Simon’s ears only.

Simon took a deep breath and returned his attention to his sister.

“ You’ve reached physical maturity,yes, but River, you’re missing years of emotional and mental growth. I refuse to just step back and-“

“ But you were, Simon, you were stepping back and we both know it. More Kaylee, less River. More Mal, less Simon. Natural order of things.”

She reached out to brush her fingers across his cheek, her smile bittersweet.

“ It’s okay, Simon. You can let me go now. Not a nestling anymore, all grown, wings full-feathered and true. Gotta fly, Simon, gotta ride the wind. Natural order of things.”

Something in his face crumbled; it wasn’t blatant, but it could be seen anyhow. His shoulders sagged.

“ Needed you for too long, Simon. Wanting is better. Always want you near. You’re my brother but you’re not MY Simon. Not anymore. And that’s okay.”

And that would have been that, if Inara had been content to keep her mouth shut and let it go.

“ Simon, I cannot believe that you would permit this to continue. If they haven’t anything to hide, if there is nothing wrong with this, why then were they hiding? Why were they keeping secrets?”

And suddenly, River was the one being restrained, as she lunged over Mal’s arm and hissed furiously like an angry cat at the beautiful Companion.

“ Judas.” She spat, before containing herself and going on in tones of abject frustration. “ Not hiding. Private. Ours, not yours. Not anybody else’s, except maybe Serenity, because she’s never had to share him before but that’s okay, because I have to share him too and that makes us even and we know it. Won’t say it again, not to anyone: private. Different from hiding. Nobody’s business where I sleep or where he sleeps or if we’re not sleeping at all. We can have secrets if we want and that doesn’t make it hiding, doesn’t make it dirty. You just keep punishing him for not being something he can’t, something you can’t be either.”

Her voice, improbably, had turned gentle, kind even.

“ This ship is his kingdom, and he its king. But you will not see that. You will not even look.”

She had regained the fire she had when first Inara burst in on them, and her eyes might wish to narrow contempuously, an expression heretofore used only on her brother, but she did not allow them to.

It is this kindness, perhaps, that is worse for the Companion than any cruelty. It is this compassion and understanding that truly drive Inara from Serenity.

“ And you will never be the queen,” River says to herself, coming back from the memory in the cockpit as she programs Serenity for take-off.

‘Course, neither will she, but that’s alright; she never wanted the crown, and she knows better than to reach too high.

Mal wanders into the doorway, a lean column of tension and bottled anger.

“ There a reason we ain’t taken off yet?” He queries, and she forgives him the gruffness in his voice; there are few times more trying for a man like he than these.

Sometimes, when she dreams of it, she knows it’s a dream, because it ends differently; Mal gives her a long look of sorrow and shame, and recants of her, repudiates and turns from her. Her world loses its light, and there is never enough air. Because this is not how it went, because he still turns to her in the night when his own dreams are too much and says her name like a prayer, a blessing, she will forgive him his moods and his distance during the day.

“ All set, Captain.” She replies. “ Fang xin.”

“ Not likely.” He says, darkly.

“ Fair winds and following seas.” River answers, from somewhere in the background of her own strange hive-like brain.

It is enough to carry him away from the shadow he’s been walking in the past few days, for a moment at least; he comes alongside of her to place a warm, broad hand on her shoulder and squeeze, once.

“ Sorry, xiao niao. I’ve been… distracted, of late.”

“ Preoccupied, maybe.” She allows. “ Never distracted.”

The smile she offers is enough to bring out one of his own to his face; how she loves the whorls and diverts it lends his whole demeanor.

“ Bless you, little one. What would I do without you?”

She leans into his hand when it comes up to cup her cheek.

“ Don’t intend to let you find out.”

The crew of Serenity is old hat by now at getting used to new things, to people going away and the ‘verse changing, and painfully, but hardly slow, they adjust to no Wash, only Zoe and a couple plastic dinosaurs left as if to keep the watch, as if he will be back shortly and there are no more battles to be fought; no Inara, just an empty shuttle and a forgotten scrap of silk that smells faintly of sandalwood and spice and the faint echo of her tea things clinking. No Book, nothing but a Bible without a preacher, hidden in a box beneath the bed River shares with her Captain, and sometimes, just before the clock ticks over to day, the sound of its pages rustling down the night-quiet corridors.

They adjust, for there is nothing else for it, to Simon and Kaylee, Mal and River.

That last one takes a little bit longer, but River is so resolute, so cheerfully determined, it’s not long at all before it’s just business as usual, and even the traders and crooks they deal with come to accept that Malcolm Reynolds is shadowed always by a slip of a girl in filmy dresses and big boots who can take out thirteen mercs by herself, if she so chooses.

On a cool morning on their most recent landing site, Jayne returns to the Serenity with a small mess of wet fur and dirty misery bundled into his coat, and storms the infirmary, demanding Simon’s immediate attention.

The bundle turns out to be a cat, equal parts drowned and starved, that Jayne apparently found in a puddle in an alley in one of the less savory sections of town; Mal starts to opine that it didn’t seem the kind of cat- a slight inflection and a cast to his eyes lends the normally sanguine word a certain implication- Jayne would normally be looking for in any part of town, and before he can use another word to further illustrate his point, River slaps her hand over his mouth and shuts his tirade off at its root.

The merc flashes angry eyes at the Captain and interrogates the doctor as to the cat’s condition.

“ Weell,” Simon drawls in his precise, rather stuffy doctor tone, “ I’m not exactly trained in the vetrinary arts, but I would say female, probably not more than a year old, obviously not well cared for.”

He pauses when the cat lifts her head weakly and meows somewhat pitifully. His consternation at having his surgery taken over for a mere animal disappears- luckily for him considering the look Kaylee is suddenly shooting him. It’s the sort of expression that promises nothing but cold shoulders and an empty bed for the next few days- weeks are entirely possible- if he fails to do something, right this minute.

Kaylee never could stand to see another being in pain.

His spine stiffens and he returns to his patient with far greater compassion.

“ We had a puppy, growing up.” River says into the sudden hush. She is curled up one of the counters, chin resting on a knee.“ But it-he- messed on the carpet one too many times, and I don’t know what happened to him after that.”

Simon’s eyes dart up from the table.

“ River. Don’t think about that.”

She laughs without much humor and spares him a glance that says, in language beyond all spoken word, yes, I know what happened.

Quietly, but still to no one’s surprise, Mal lays a gentle and comforting arm across her shoulders. She tucks into him, almost a kitten herself, and bends her other side toward the examination table expectantly, where Simon has returned his attention, despite all the myriad distractions.

The cat almost nips at him when he prods a little too closely, but Jayne sets his meaty fingers against her throat, and she settles into the touch with almost alarming alacrity.

“ The purring doesn’t mean anything.” River states dispassionately, as if reading from a textbook. “ Automated response to stimuli; reaction occurs when subject experiences pain as well.”

Jayne glares at her; she sticks her tongue out at him in lieu of a reply. Kaylee laughs, and after a beat or too, so does everyone else, even Jayne.

Simon consults his encylopedia, and then looks up.

“ Definitely female, between six and eight months old, no wounds of import aside from a few nicks and scrapes. No indication of intestinal parasites, which is actually quite remarkable, considering her situation. Prolonged, although not severe, malnutrition, mild dehydration, and she’s in dire need of a flea bath.”

He smiles.

“ So?” Jayne demands.

“ So,” Simons says slowly, “ Antiseptic for the wounds, of course, perhaps a round of mild antibiotics, just in case, and what I would prescribe to anyone else with her prognosis: soft foods, plenty of fluids, and bed rest.”

“ So she ain’t gonna die?”

Flabbergasted, the doctor stares at him.

“ I don’t see why. As I said, she’s been poorly used but I see no sign of serious distress.” He pauses, catches Kaylee’s intense eyes, and clears his throat. “ I will, of course, keep her in observation to ensure recovery.”

“ Naw, Doc. Can’t have the infimary taken over on account of one catling.” Jaybe declares, in complete opposition to what he has just, in fact, done. “ I can keep her with me.”

“ Now wait just a minute.” Mal says, standing up and clear of River. “ You ain’t actually thinking you’re keeping this thing? On my boat?”

Kaylee reaches out a finger to trace the cat’s jaw; it-she, Simon has said- allows this, even seems to enjoy it.

“ But, Cap’n, she’s so small and she needs to be somewhere, she wouldn’t’ve been out all alone in that alley otherwise. How can it hurt? I mean, she can't eat that much. And she’s so pretty, least she will be, once she gets all cleaned up-”

“ Kaylee, this is a cargo vessel, not a home for, for, for wayward felines.”

Before Jayne can even shape an answer to that, much lest bluster and bombast and, generally, be Jayne, River lays a small hand on Mal’s forearm. He turns to her and she smiles softly.

“ Serenity is a home for all sorts of wayward creatures, ai ren.”

There is a moment in the little medical room so profound even the cat reacts to it, lifting her head to press it again into Jayne’s hand. New ghosts and old terrors hover in the corners, lurk in every shadow.

“ You’d have said the same thing about Simon and me, of a time.”

Mal’s face softens; whose wouldn’t, faced with her?

“Na me guanxi, xiao niao.”

“ I think it does. Jayne and Kaylee, too.” She reaches up and places her palm flat against his jaw, like Kaylee and the kitten just a moment ago.

“ Cat’s gotta stay a bit anyways, to mend. Which you’ll allow, going on a bit about how it’s only for now, only ‘til she’s patched up, on account Kaylee won’t let you rest otherwise, and Simon, too, because he’s a doctor down to the soles of his feet, and by the time she’s mended you’ll be used to her, and so will everyone else, and the time for her to ship out will get pushed back just a little more every day; Kaylee’ll find the first excuse, then Simon, then even Jayne will manage to think of something, and you might as well say it’s okay now, if you’re wanting any say in it at all.”

Her eyes are kind, but dance with mischief all the same. Across the room, Zoe turns to hide a grin in her hand.

“ This is my boat, girl. You are aware of that, yes?”

She smiles prettily.

“ Of course. But it’s also our home. I think by now we’ve earned some say. Doesn’t mean we’re not loyal, nor we don’t need you to lead, but Mal – it’s just a cat. Wisest leaders in the ‘verse know to pick their battles.”

And that, apparently, is that. Mal might talk a long line, but he’s not near a fool, and besides, he remembers a dog he weren’t supposed to be having, long ago on Shadow, and will admit to himself, and once to River, alone late at night in their cabin, that he never really intended to boot the cat if it needed a home. It is a new fanaticism in him; home and Serenity.

“ Long tradition,” He says into the darkness, more asleep than awake with his face pillowed comfortably between his lover’s breasts, “ Cats and boats. Good luck. Keep the mice down, leastways, we take on a shipment of grain or such.”

River smiles into his hair, tracing the line of his shoulderblade with clever fingertips, and resists the urge to tell him, “ Whatever you say, dear.”

The cat flourishes under the attention of the mercenary and the mechanic, the doctor adding advice as needed. A bath at Jayne’s hands with River observing and giggling the whole time reveals a silver coat mottled with black inkspots and long streaks of ichor, soft as down. Her eyes are a startling green, the kind possessed only by cats and star clusters; the dainty paws she balances on turn out to be extra-toed at front and quite deft at climbing practically anything.

It is implicitly understood that it is Jayne’s duty to name her, and after several days of referring to her as xiao mao, their catling- River whispers meimei whenever she encounters her in the halls or the hold- he sits down to dinner with her draped across his shoulders, as they have already become accustomed to, and announces that henceforth she has deigned to be known as Circe, after the enchantress of legend. Briefly, he admits, he considered Vera, but Circe don’t seem inclined to share.

Later, after the meal, Zoe passes on the liquor Jayne doles out like precious ambrosia to celebrate Circe’s naming, and it is remarked upon, and reflexively, Zoe lays a protective hand over her belly. Another moment of silence descends on Serenity. Jayne smirks and River grins quietly to herself and the Captain sits up sharply in his seat and asks if there isn’t something he might ought to be knowing and Zoe’s eyes, to everyone’s shock, fill with a sheen that catches the light and glimmers faintly, tears that never find her cheeks.

“ Wash and I talked about children. One day.” She says, her voice strong and no longer hesitating over her husband’s name, as it has been wont to do in previous weeks. “ Would have liked him to see this one, but I guess that can’t be helped as such now.”

There is another silence now, in which the crew digests this, and then, much like dessert would be, embrace this news with applause and joy, letting Zoe know in boisterous tones and unspoken grace that beyond accepted, her child is wanted, cherished, loved even before its birth.

The Captain sits a long time musing into his cup, still as the Buddha himself.

“ Sir?” Zoe asks at last, when the last toast to Wash’s child has been loudly made, the last congratulation echoing into the shadows of the galley.

He looks up, startled, sees the uncertainty and naked need on his first mate’s face, emotions she will not allow color her voice, and time seems to pause a moment to catch up. River is to his left, her seat pulled close to his as he will do, hooking an ankle about the leg to haul her over after the meal is done and before clean up begins, when everyone tends to sit about with tea or drink, if drink is to be had, talking over heists past or yet to come, deals made or still half-formed, thinking with love and little bitterness of those not present for their revels. He turns to his little bird; she does not smile, but her eyes are warm and deep, and in them is the center of himself- the soul of Serenity- and the light of stars he has sought since he was a child, and he exhales, deeply.

“ Well now, Zoe.” He says into the hush that has encapsulated the table, even Circe pausing in the fervent washing of one paw, “ Ain’t this a marvel, a fine and wonderful thing.”

A breath goes out among the listeners, and another is taken for the next question.

“ You’re not thinking of leaving us now? I have it from a well-informed source that Serenity is a home for all sorts of folk and a baby would hardly be the strangest of them. If a home for it here is what you’re after.”

Their eyes meet and hold a very long moment. Volumes are spoken in that moment, in silence, but sacred for all the lack of ears in the matter.

“ Sir.” Now she pauses, Zoe, taking a sip of tea Kaylee has made for her, “ Can’t think of no better home for this child than right here.”

Another moment of no sound stretches out as the two discourse in language the rest don’t understand, nor ever could. Only one who might been able to been buried a long time now amidst snow and the crying of his people, a duty the crew of Serenity never expected yet never shirked.

At length, Mal nods, and then so does Zoe, everything that might need deciding decided, and River grins, leaning hard into Mal, giggling like a girl, a beautiful, moon-mad girl, and Zoe shocks them again by joining her in it.

After that, everything becomes quite simple and terribly complicated, all at the same time.

Jayne, by unspoken decree, sets himself as Zoe’s guard and nursemaid. She goes nowhere, save the infirmary for checkups with Simon or to the head, without his shadow trailing her. He and Kaylee conspire to rig a comm link separate from the rest of the ship so that should she wake in the night and need something, it sounds a matching link Jayne keeps on him all times.

If the others think this odd, they keep such thoughts to themselves.

The day Zoe steps into the galley with her shirt straining over something that is hardly the wages of laziness is one the whole lot of them won’t be soon to forget.

She never did have much by way of morning sickness, so the marking of the time between her confession and the physical manifestation of her condition seems sudden and extreme. One moment she’s letting them know a thing no one even thought to have looked for, and the next it’s real and completely present, a curve to a flat belly, like the lump under the blanket Circe likes to make if she’s in a mind to play.

There is no going back now. This is straight off the map, smack dab in the middle of the dragons.

Time spools out, collects in odd little puddles here and there, and things keep happening while the crew is busy not paying attention. Jayne raises a stink while loading the mule for a delivery one morning, how Zoe’s too large with child to go with, an obvious target, can’t even get her gun belt over that big, swaying belly of hers, how far up his own pigu is Mal’s head that he’s so stupid to let her come along and he never does realize just how close he comes to dying when Zoe, perfectly capable but still listening through ears heavily influenced by pregnancy hormones, picks up the gist of what he’s saying. Never is told how it was River, hearing words no one is actually speaking, who stills the hand that reaches for the gun within reach even if not in the holster Zoe can’t- not that she will ever admit this, outloud- no matter how she tries, buckle on with the heft of Wash’s child in the way.

Jayne is never told how River reaches out whilst checking her own weapons and lays a soft hand on Zoe’s forearm when she goes stiff and bristling with rage as the words trickle down to them, shakes her head swiftly and whispers, No, not today, and never tattles where Zoe keeps the gun.

Zoe, being Zoe, never tells anyone her reply: “No, he’s right. I’m huge.”

“ Petaline was bigger, but she was ready to pop.” River answers, and eyes Zoe’s belly suspiciously. “ You’re not going to pop, are you?”

Zoe returns the look with a glare. “ No. This baby isn’t going anywhere for awhile yet.”

There is a certain amount of resentment in her voice.

“ Don’t worry. It won’t last forever. You’ll get your freedom back, go on jobs, scare bad guys.”

She pauses to think about what she’s just said; Serenity’s crew has only now gotten used to this, how sometimes River speaks with a voice not entirely her own, and has to review the words issued forth from her own mouth before being able to contribute further. Thank the Buddha she’s a genius, photographic memory and all.

“ Like a goddess. Beautiful and terrible, rich with the promise of tomorrow. There’s power in that, if not the power you’ve grown accustomed to.” She grins, River, bright as a summer morning. “ They’re not mistaking you, nor misjudging. Jayne knows he doesn’t have to worry about you, just the baby.”

“ He thinks he failed the child’s father, and therefore can’t fail the child.” Zoe fills in, no idiot herself.

“ Yes.” River responds with a huge smile, pleased the pupil has grasped the equation. “ It’s not really about you, so there’s no insult.”

“ Maybe from where you’re standing.” Zoe retorts, replacing her gun. “ The one has nothing to do with the other. Keeping Wash alive wasn’t Jayne’s responsibility-”

“ Not yours either.” River interrupts. “ You look at it wrong.”

“ No, that was Wash. He didn’t … I loved my man, but he didn’t see things…”

“ Yes.” River says, and and her eyes fill with memories of Niska, and the skydome. “ He did. That burden isn’t yours, nor yet your child’s. You know better, Zoe. Maybe you shouldn’t have to, but you do, all the same.”

River shrugs, lays an uncommon hand to the swell of Zoe’s belly, she who is always so aware of contact, of how others see a pregnant belly and think they have the right to touch, and smiles even wider when the child within kicks against her palm.

“ See? Someone agrees.” The smile she wears is far more private than Zoe might wish, when discussing the contents of her own womb. “ Don’t worry so much. According to design, it all makes perfect sense.”

“ I suppose.”

If this situation had been suggested even a year ago – Zoe pregnant and taking advice from River- well, it wouldn’t be River they were calling crazy, for once.

They hammer out a compromise that works for everyone- Mal comes up with it, pleasing himself more than anyone else. Before a job, Kaylee and Simon scour aerial imaging of a drop site, and, with tactical imput from Jayne, find a spot where Zoe can hide herself and essentially ride drag, taking the rear to mind stragglers and unexpected visitors. She’s still the best shot on Serenity, River’s psychic abilities notwithstanding, and if she has to take into account her belly when she lays herself out, well, she can do that.

They discover, Serenity’s crew, that the mood on board lightens immensely as soon as Zoe discovers she is still useful and necessary.

The baby kicks one day, and River, next to Zoe in the cargo bay, jumps about half a foot just seconds before and laughs out “Wash’s darlings,” when asked what the gorram hell is wrong with her, moonbrain?

Jayne, of course. Moonbrain ain’t nearly as insulting these days as it might once have been considered.

Zoe is left massaging her aching belly with one absentminded hand and just shakes her head, half-smile painting her mouth. It can’t be said she’s going soft, but her edges are surely blunting.

She mourns this, for all she will not say it, but she knows mourning now, so no one feels the need to to comment on it.

The closer Zoe gets to birth, it seems, the more River dreams.

In the hours between bedtime and waking, River journies. She revisits her parents’ house, standing behind herself the day she leaves for the Academy.

She sees Simon rescue her; Mal gather her up from the floor of the Maidenhead; Shepherd Book with his hair sprung out from his head every which way, so funny now.

River dreams of the Shepherd a great deal. They walk in the countryside surrounding Nandi’s house, drink tea by the fire on Haven, watch supernovas on the very edge of the horizon from Srenity’s bridge. They speak, constantly, of important things, vital things, and always River wakes unable to recall a single word.

It is maddening; she remembers everything. Why not this?

She never dreams of Wash; it is like to break her heart.

One night Mal wakes and discovers himself alone in bed. It brings back a sudden rush of gestalt; his panic at discovering River gone the night he told her he loves her, the night In- she- outed them in a fit of spite and jealousy. Bu huihen de pofu- didn’t want him none for herself, wouldn’t let nobody else have him neither.

He never will understand women, in the general sense. He understands Zoe, not saying he knows her every thought nor secret, but he gets her, knows how to be there for her when she needs him to be, even in his fumbling, clumsy way, and when to vamoose when that’s what’s called for.

He understands Kaylee, his Bird of Paradise, all colors and warmth, love just seeping out of her like sunlight, finally happy in a way he’d only hoped he would see in her since a certain corpse that wasn’t got brought aboard.

He’s their Captain and Serenity is their home and everyone has their place and their role. Simon is their doctor, Zoe their spine, Jayne is their arm and River the star by which they steer, but Kaylee is their heart and the heart can’t be sad lest the lot of them should tumble down like dominoes.

And now everything seems to be laying itself out in a proper pattern, aside from the fact that his lover is not in bed where she should be and that feeling- that tiny little frisson of foreboding and fear he’d felt the morning before Serenity Valley, and again, before Miranda- is slinking ice cold fingers down his spine.

Translations:

dong ma – Understand?

mei mei- little sister

chi ni de, wang ba dan- screw you, you dirty bastard.

fang xin- no worries, don’t worry

xiao niao- little bird

Na me guanxi – that has nothing to do with it

xiao mao- little cat ( kitten, catling)

pigu- ass

Bu huihen de pofu- merciless harridan

Procul Recedant Somnia –From the Roman Breviary, prayer at sundown: From all ill dreams defend our eyes.

The Moon, The Stars and All the Heavens

_mebh_ @ 2008-07-09T10:45:00