Crossing Boundaries Pt. 05

Her fingers drifted to her stomach. There was one good thing, even if she could not quite say how it had happened. It had to have occurred before she'd begun downing the potion to stop herself from conceiving but, of course, it was inevitable with all the sex she dragged her body into that she had fallen pregnant. In a way, that had been a turning point for her, staying away from drugs and drinking, howling and snarling through the night against the nightmares.

One daughter had come and she was the most beautiful serpent that Siderva could have ever dreamed of, a lone soul who knew nothing at all of her past. It was hardly a good world for her to grow up in but Siderva worked hard for her, finding a job, staying clean, though she still disturbed her daughter every night with gasps and grunts, howling cries.

Her step quickened again, nearly in a light run, though that would have drawn attention to herself. She could have found transport to the next inn, the next tavern, but she didn't want to be around others except when it was under her choosing. That was her choice. It was one of the few choices left to her that she thought she could make -- and even then Siderva was not certain.

She'd backslid, of course. Without support, she'd not been able to stay clean, though her work continued, offering her body for coin. While feeding her addiction, she at least ensured that her daughter was provided for, making sure she was educated, that no one knew who her mother was.

The little, bright-eyed serpent... Siderva's chest tightened. She'd turned out better than she could ever have hoped, gloriously bright, sharp, intelligent. Her wit was keen and her tongue quick, eager to stand up for herself and set up with firm, fast friends. Siderva was glad of that, though she could only hope they were genuine friendships. The preservation of one's self sometimes came at a cost, yet Siderva could only do all that she could for her, staying out of her daughter's way for the rest.

Of course, it could not last. Siderva struggled more and more and to drag her daughter down with her would have been a travesty that she was not willing to commit. Her life was lost, no longer her own, and she signed everything in her legal name away to her daughter, her accounts, the small house -- everything. There was nothing left to Siderva and yet the greatest sense of loss came from leaving her daughter, even if it was for her own good. All she had managed to do was provide her with money, the bare essentials, and what kind of mother did that make her? Neglect did not come merely from cruel words and raised fists and providing the essentials was not enough.

There'd been a note but not even Siderva could remember writing it. That was fine. Her daughter had more than what she had been able to give her growing up and, as a legal adult, would be in better stead without an addict of a mother to drag her down, waylaying her future. A pack of belongings had been all that had gone with Siderva, allowing her to wander, to flee from her demons, embodying her vices day in and day out. That was okay. She could only do so much. Sometimes, one had to simply give up on trying to save themselves and continue as they were.

At least, that was what she'd come to believe.

Sometimes, still, she checked up on her daughter, always ensuring that there was no way that she would be discovered. The pride... The warm glow of it was something that she still enjoyed, a strange pleasure that came without addiction, and yet still left her feeling like she wanted more of it. Siderva distrusted the feeling, though her daughter getting into a magic university -- was it the best one? It had to be -- was still something that had to be objectively good.

She'd done so well...in spite of her mother. For that, Siderva would be forever grateful for her daughter's resilience.

She didn't know why she wanted to see her again and the human at the same university. All Siderva knew that there was a deeply seated need at the core of her being that kept her putting one foot in front of the other, keeping on and on. She had to go, had to keep going, had to see, ensuring that her daughter was safe, that she was well. Maybe she could not tell whether she was happy or not, but she could try.

Whether she would approach the human or not was another question. And the answer would only come when she saw him.

She took a deep breath, lungs filling with air, her skin rustling and flaking where it came away from her body. A shed would be cleansing, but it would not cleanse the horror from her soul.

Little did she know that not all was bad and not all was lost. Her daughter was out there, looking up at the same moon and stars that she was. She was warm in her daughter's thoughts, knowing that there was more to what her mother had and had not done than she'd let on. She remembered warmth, compassion and, above all else, love. Even if that love had shown itself, on one occasion, in her mother drunkenly throwing lightning-bolts of magic at a spider that had scared her daughter. There were very few instances of the former battle mage using her magic and that drunken episode had not been one that she'd remembered.

Still, there was hope. Where there was life, the light of the moon and stars, there would always be hope.

That was one thing that the humans had not managed to take from Siderva and her family.