I’ve written here and there about Elias and Cira Dawn, and their time being the strangest pseudo-royal family that their temple has seen in many many years. The interesting thing to note is that Cira was deeply depressed after being declared the Oracle. It meant she could not wander as freely as she used to, and the friends she lost would stay lost out in the world. When she learned she was pregnant, some of her joy came back.
Twenty two hours of labor and the baby still hadn’t come. Cira let out another raspy cry as her body shuddered with pain. The nurses bustled around her like a kaleidoscope of moving figures. Someone held her hand, but between the intense false figures in the room and the storming outside, she couldn’t tell who. All that mattered was the baby that was so ready to come out, but couldn’t.
Something had to be wrong, but Cira lacked the words to ask. The speakers of the temple were standing by, but most of them had no idea what to make of her yet. She was a new Oracle and her prophecies were more obscured than most.
Words simply minced together in her head. After everything that she had seen and done, she was quite rightfully mad. She didn’t usually mind.
Thunder cracked and something in her shifted. Cira cried out a wordless plea, a prayer that she would at least get to meet her child. It was so lonely, being the way she was. The baby, she told herself, didn’t have to understand her. She would love it just the same.