holy ground

Cordelia

let us go
where the wild things grows

Her hand braces at her back, brows knitting together as she slowly bends her knees, lowering into a squat in an attempt to reach the paint brush she made the mistake of setting down in the wrong spot. Groaning at the strain it puts on her belly, the sweater she stole from Noah stretching over her rounded stomach and hiding the tips of her socked toes, "Don't kick, momma. Don't you do that." She hisses between her teeth as one of the twins, she's starting to think that Noah is definitely right about that, digs their heel into her side. Cordelia sinks the rest of the way into the squat at that moment, fingers snatching at the paint brush as her other hand shoots out to steady herself on the crib she's currently working on, a healthy flush high on her cheeks.

"Not even here yet and you're already a handful." There isn't a bond to connect them, but she can swear she feels a flutter of amusement and laughter tickling at her consciousness, causing her own lips to curl into a smile at the corners as she hoists herself back up.

let us go
where time runs slow

code by sky