— a great curiosity in your eyes.”
She curls her legs in front of her, settling in.
“Are you a scholar? A student of sorts?”
The eggs give the slightest of movements in the corner, the fetal-esque larvae squirming within.
Sipping her drink, a wry smile falls on her lips.
“Interesting creatures…” she repeats, clearly amused at the phrase.
Wide eyes gaze over at her guest.
“I could tell you were no ordinary traveler,” she explained, gaze locking on the woman. “You have —
been studying interesting creatures as I come across them in my travels.”
She’d filled out nearly a dozen journals full of notes and sketches already.
“Would you mind if I… looked more closely at them sometime? And asked a few questions?”
The woman returns from the kitchen with two glasses and a pitcher of iced tea.
At her guest’s question, Essaim’s eyes glance over at the pile of eggs in the corner.
Blackened forms, toddler-sized forms can be seen squirming slowly beneath the pale shells.
“Oh yes,” the —
thirsty from a day full of walking. But her words trail off when she notices the giant translucent sacks in the corner.
Her eyes go wide.
“Are those… eggs…?”
host answers cheerfully, setting the tray on the table.
“But don’t worry, you’ll hardly notice them,” she explained, filling the glasses.
“They’re such good little things…” she cooed, casting a loving smile toward her brood.
Picking up her glass, she took a —
She noticed the bag, and how it seemed to weigh heavy in the woman’s grasp despite its small size. Curious.
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all…”
The pair came to a quiet Brownstone at the corner of the block.
Heading up the stairs, Essaim opened the door.
Inside, the —
“Essaim? I’m Khali,” she introduces herself, following along.
She’s not carrying much — or so it appears — just an overnight bag, but it’s…oddly heavy; as though it’s holding much more than just clothes. Her whole life is in that bag.
“Thank you so much for your hospitality.”
— townhouse was quaint, if a bit bare. Cold, white walls. Scuffed brown carpet.
It would appear to anyone a humble city home.
At least, save for the dozen 4-foot tall translucent egg sacks stacked in the corner of the living room.
“Please, make yourself comfortable. Would —
scraping your blood off my floorboards tonight / even though i've lost you / you'll never leave me, will you? / you've bled into the wood, / this stain is as dark as the wine we shared.