Auresae stole my baby

You are transported by the power of the Divine.
Atop the Pillar of Auresae.
A white chaise longue is here, its dark frame gilded with ornate golden accents that glimmer brilliantly in the firelight. A grub writhes here, its many tiny legs flailing. Intense waves of heat bathe the area, radiating from the presence of Auresae, Goddess of Fire.
There are no obvious exits.

You have emoted: Arbre startles for a moment, taking a half-step back to regain her balance. Her stomach protrudes well in front of her at the end of her pregnancy, bared to the world. The tattoos of essence on her body glow more brightly than normal, a soft heat wafting off of her, and in Auresae's presence, they pick up even more, arcs of flame jumping between lines. Arbre smiles at Auresae, her expression both embarrassed and proud as she stands before her Goddess.

Golden eyes survey your state of affairs with a speculative eye, and Auresae's hands unfold to allow one to gesture loosely toward the chaise, the palla trailing in a lazy wake behind it. "You may choose to make yourself comfortable, Cirtaleo," She offers. Her demeanor is calm, though strangely slightly detached, and even the fires of the Pillar beneath your feet are comparatively subdued to their customary torrent.

You have emoted: For a moment, Arbre looks uncertainly at Auresae, though she pushes it away swiftly. She steps forward one foot at a time, moving over to the chaise to sit down. She leans to one side, placing her hand on the cushion before lowering her rear down, an awkward movement to keep her from sitting too hard. Once she's settled, she places her hands in what little is left of her lap, looking back up to Auresae. "She has been kicking all month," she says gently.

"That is because she is ready to join this world," Auresae supplies succinctly, and takes the step or two that brings Her beside the chaise, gripping your shoulders and gently but definitely firmly guiding you into a reclined position. The Goddess' gaze then sweeps over you again, Her lips just barely pursed. "It should not be so...physically painful," She ventures after a beat or two. "I suspect you have little to worry about."

You have emoted: Arbre's eyes go wide and her heart rate jumps up. "That would be a first," she says hoarsely, clearing her throat as she tries to bring humor in to calm her nerves, "with You." She allows Auresae to guide her down without complaint, swallowing hard and closing her eyes as she tries to compose her demeanor.

A tight, wry smile flashes over Auresae's lips and for once She flicks Her attention to your face. "I did not say it would be pleasant," She replies in a quiet voice no doubt intended to be soothing, but the words She speaks cause it to fall a bit short. "Just that it would not be so painful." Amidst an elegant flutter of fabric, the Goddess takes Her seat beside you at roughly hip level, and only once properly seated does She rest an open palm upon the swell of your stomach. The point of contact elicits a strange sort of surge from the being within you, pulling toward Auresae. "Are you ready, then?"

You have emoted: Arbre opens her eyes back to look at Auresae. When they meet her face, a solid confidence comes to her face and she gives a single nod. "Isae, Ralehao." She breathes slowly and calm, her chest rising and falling softly.

Without further hesitation, Auresae's hand steeples against your bare stomach and the ebon fingertips begin to meld past your flesh, impossibly sinking in, enveloped seamlessly by fat and muscle and tissue. The sensation feels uncomfortable, though not painful, a mounting sort of pressure as the cells of your body shift to accommodate the passage of Goddess' hand. As it enters, the child starts a fit unlike anything you have felt, churning and kicking. Her eyes are intent upon their work, no longer looking to you, nostrils flared and the muscles in Her neck and jaw pronounced in their clench of concentration. She stops, up to Her wrist in you, and the kicking has stopped now as you somehow sense She has a hold on the being. "That was the easy part," She says in a clipped, terse tone. "Deep breath, Cirtaleo. It is the last you will get for a spell."

You have emoted: As Auresae reach through her, Arbre makes a face of displeasure, but doesn't speak or wince, her eyes locked on the Goddess. At her words, she breathes out the one she was unintentionally holding and sucks in more air, filling her lungs to capacity. Though nervousness and discomfort shows on her face, so does determination as she tightens her lip into a flat line.

The remaining free hand places itself against your forehead too firmly to be a mere gesture of consolation. Its reason becomes all too clear as Auresae's hand begins to draw out of you again, and you feel the innate bond you have as a mother to your child begins to sever--you feel the weight and presence of the child gradually depart. The feel of it, however, is so achingly visceral that the promise of being rendered immobile and incapable is fulfilled, and your heart thunders in your chest. Throughout the ordeal, Auresae's features are a perfect, determined, dispassionate mask.

You have emoted: Arbre's breath comes out as a slow wheeze and she closes her eyes, curling her fists as if she could grasp the cloth of the chair before her body begins to go limp. Her eyes widen, but their focus leaves, welling up with tears that slowly roll from either side and into her hair. Horror fills her expression, but she makes no more noise or movement, simply experiencing the act of her Goddess, out of her control.

Auresae's hand pulls free at last and then you are left hollow and deflated. Her touch leaves you then and the discomfort She had held at bay floods you, overwhelming you, and the last thing you see before your vision blots out is the Goddess wrapping the being in Her palla. There is no undignified mewling, only an unsettling silence, and as She clutches it to Her breast, your consciousness is lost.

You are transported by the power of the Divine.
A candle-lit chamber of ocean hues. (The Havens.) (21836)
Regal in its simplicity, this white-oak canopy bed sits along the center wall. A thin, floor-length mirror stands like an easel here. An unadorned, white-finished vanity is here, a white vanity seat placed at it. A plain wooden chest is here.  A small sign indicates that LIBRARY CATALOG will list the materials in this library.
There are no obvious exits.