16AN: Hello, everyone! I'm very, very excited to start publishing this fic. I've been working on it on and off for a few years now, and every time I come back to it I get such a wonderful sense of inspiration. I'm really proud of what it's become, and I hope you enjoy reading it.
As such, a few warnings so you can be prepared on what to expect from this:
It is a fantasy odesta fic, so it falls under an AU that has supernatural elements to it. It is a mature rating, for sexual themes and undertones. I try to keep the sex respectful, though, and my goal here is to not rely on such themes to drive the plot forward.
Feel free to submit any questions, comments, etc. to my inbox - I love hearing feedback! The first few chapters or so are done, and I have the major outline fleshed out, but updates will come and go based on time.
Happy reading.
-Em
PROLOGUE
"It was a little thing, a baby tree, but still it tangled
with things around it and required care to move.
And when she pulled it out, it's roots still clung to
Earth from it's old home." -Ally Condie, Matched
The mother has never seen a human man before, but stories of his kind have been passed down by mouth from generations before her.
Her mother and her mother's mother and her mother's mother's mother – on and on in quiet reverie, leaving her with the peace that there will come a day hopefully soon where she too can be a mother to pass down the experience.
She's heard tales of her father, and the father before him, and even before him.
The tales don't do the form justice.
They don't speak of the eyes: dark orbs, capable of enhancing the brooding expression on his face. A gruff set of hair, oddly dispatched on his face, starting from the top of his lip down to the tip of his chin. It's coarse under her touch; prickles her fingers.
They don't speak of the bliss, of the joy, or of the folly. They don't speak of the highs to match the lows, which come near the end, when they feel the energy pulsing through their veins as it leaks out from the man on their breast. It's a bittersweet experience, to know the beginning has means to an end.
When he dies, they dance and sing and cry and mourn as the sun rises, sets, and rises again to watch.
And then, when the sun decides to watch from its perch in the blue for the longest that it can, his daughters are born.