and let me kick you off a bungee

Apa is bringing more life into the world than should be physically possible, I am not (and never have been) some precious gift gracing Apa or my mother, their little miracle. I have never been the child to be adored and spoiled, to be cherished and grateful for with adventure and curiosity burning brightly within me. I am no child to be proud of and thankful for, to wish to see grow strong and well, to watch go far in life.

Hiba, I will hear them whisper behind my back, harsh and judgmental with their sunken eyes and ivory features. They are better, they are favoured, cherished. Hiba, they will mock as I pass them by with the stench of rot still clinging to my skin even though my wounds have long since healed. Hiba, the titan and his offspring will chant in unison, each syllable burrowing further beneath my skin until it's staining my insides black and blue, until I am crushed beneath their gazes and erased from their memories.

I will never matter to any of them, who wants to love something ugly?
"Was für eine hässliche sache," one of them had said to me, in my mother's eyes I could see their disgust when they first took me in and looked me over, lip curling and body tensing at the sight of me, the Unsightly. "Maga a legrondább dolog, amit valaha láttam," he'd said to me in the language I found comfort and familiarity in, my safety blanket when the world became too much. I had snapped at him, refused to take his insult to heart, but even as I spat poison back at the hooves of the insolent, his words burned into my sin, tainted my mind until it was all I could hear. Over and over their words would echo, mocking me no matter what I did or where I went, always in my ear about how disgusting I was. And I would feel their gazes grazing my skin, digging into the back of my head and their claws sinking into my innocence. They would not let me go, with their manic screaming and wild hate, clinging to me as though their lives depended on my humiliation and crushed confidence.

I return to the Throat shamefully, having spent time away in hopes that I could rebuild myself if only temporarily, desperate to find a way to tune out the dismaying voices that sought only to ruin me entirely. I found nothing, returning home empty handed and despairing as I trudge to the edge of the border, where the cool water rushed up against the beach and swallows it whole, erasing any signs of others. My hooves sink into the soft earth and I wish it would simply swallow me whole, where I wouldn't fight or thrash as my body slips beneath the surface and I fail to return, forgotten and discarded by everyone. I think it would be for the better.

I begin to reject that as I hear a familiar, soft voice that sends my heart yearning, reaching desperately to find her, warm body knee deep in the ocean as she stands before the waves. I am tripping over myself to get to her, digging my hooves into the ground to gain more ground as I rush forward towards the Sea Soul, whimpering at the thought of her and how long she has been gone. I grew fond of her company, attached to her presence as it soothed me, she treated me how a mother should treat a child, not harshly or distantly the way my mother does, but with affection and devotion. In a world full of hate, she was the guiding light, even with her own troubles to face she was so much more to me— I fall forward before her, gasping with my mouth hanging open hauntingly and hollow sockets pointed towards her, mapping the colours that coat her body.

And I see him too, Apa is there at her side and I am burning, begging to have a moment alone with the Sea Soul, seeking her maternal comforts and to hear of where she has been. I want her attention to fall to me, the panting bastard with her knees weak and heart heavy, to know that I have been tormented, tortured by the emptiness, the temptation of death and escape. I look only to her, to the petite reptilian body grasping at her mane with it's cold blood and warm belly, scaled and magnificent in the way Apa's dragons are. But this one is so small, exponentially smaller than the two who are bound to Apa, thin and childish.

"You're back, are my words, distressed and fractured as I move closer, shaking and quiet, full of uncertainty and a broken will. She is the only motherly figure I have ever known, and I have needed her ever since she turned her back on the Throat and disappeared. "Ahol—" I cut myself short, choking on the familiar syllables of apa's tongue and swallowing them, out of despair, crushed by my emotions, I have returned to the language I rely on most. "Where?" It comes out breathless, fearful, I am worried and upset by the Sea Soul's departure, hurt by her absence and desperate to know why. I am selfishly placing myself before her, so undeserving of the love she has shown before she disappeared, the love my own mother would not give to me, so undeserving of anyone's attention or affections. So why do I seek it out?