tamingthemuse | Prompt 121-Dreamland-Buried Cosmos-tiaordona

Title: Buried Cosmos
Author: tiaordona
Rating: T for sexual themes.
Fandom: Harvest Moon, AWL...and I don't own it. Wah.
Prompt: 121-Dreamland

Swirls of emotion hurl their sharp arrows into my chest, mercilessly dazing me with overwhelmed, breathless blows. A lick of ecstasy, a dash of fear, and a cold wash of dread glazes my inside as a smile pushes its way onto my face, a true smile. Yet I shudder in fear and tears sparkled voluminously in my eyes. I am overcome. For a short, speechless second, I am totally and completely overcome.

I flinch at the rough sensations of Marlin’s hand, gruffly shaking me from my moment in unending twilight. “Jill…Jill!” he barks from the strain of worry and his own contradicting feelings. I glance up into his eyes and see the same sheen across them as the one that spreads a film over mine. My heart sags in relief; at least I am not the only sap that immerses herself in the moment, gorging in the syrupy dreamland of the future.

Hardy has the knowing little grin upon his face as he waits for one of us to break the silence. Even with a cold, mechanical eye whirring in his socket, gentle warmth grazes him. Warmth is the most fitting description, indeed…it is everywhere.

And yet, only traces of it are present in Marlin’s stony eyes.

Finally, my vocals find their proper treble niche, and my speech is a flowing candor, a paean that serves as an outlet in which I feed my energy. “Wow…a baby…” I raise my hands to press against my womb, as if touching the newborn life it yields. “How wonderful!” The smile broadens to an earsplitting grin.

Marlin exhales a long, shaky breath, scooping one of my hands in his and squeezing it in his.

Hardy rattles off onto a busied speech, one that I am sure he has in manuscript, or at least engraved into his mind. “Yes, congratulations, both of you. Jill, I trust you will take better care of yourself during your pregnancy. Get rest, eath three balanced meals, avoid caffeine…”

In a sort of fascination, I can feel maternity devour me whole. I am bowed with the weight of child’s life, and yet, I am imbued with a need to protect this being, this beautiful creature that Marlin had gifted me with. My throat is tight with it, and I can barely soothe my mind from its excitement.

In the midst of a colorful dreamland, I can still feel…nerves, as a tight know in my stomach. And I know Marlin can feel them too, just as magnified.

---

“Marlin?”

My voice is a soft murmur, a breathy whisper. My husband raises his eyes to meet my own, and I bob my head and sidle over, making room on the cushioned mattress. He slinks over to me and sits, the springs groaning their own welcome.

He has an expectant expression, so I pull the soft bathrobe tightly about my figure and let the nagging words burst from my mouth. “Are you…happy?”

He nibbles on his lower lip, contemplative, and I wince. Why does he even have to think? Recoiling, I nestle into the soft folds of my ivory robe, drawing comfort from the soft candlelight that lingers at the table from a silent meal. I want to escape the blinding future, but I cannot. I long for a general framework of what lurks ahead, but my wish is brutally impossible.

Finally, he speaks. His voice is gentle but confident, ringing out the tone of reassurance into the quiet of our home. “Jill…of course I’m happy. I couldn’t…I could never ask for more than what I have now, you know that? Never.” His normally cool eyes crumble to sweet softness at the edges. “I am nervous, but it’s useless. I know that as long as we are together, nothing will go wrong.” I scrutinize him for tufts of doubt. There are none.

My breath escapes in a heavy exhale, and I don’t even try to fight the small smile adorning my lips. He mirrors it, and then fondly kisses the top of my head. My cheeks brighten to a glowing fuchsia, and he backs away, a little satisfied and a little hesitant.

“I’m glad. I’m so glad,” I murmur to him, falling into his muscular arms.

“Me too.” He sighs contentedly. “Jill, we have to tell everyone we know, all right? We have to decorate a nursery in the best things we can find.” I giggle into his shoulder and he chuckles himself. “I’m serious! This is going to be big.”

“I know. It will be.” I pull away and give him a small, jubilant smirk. “Because this isn’t just any child. This is our child.”

He is again contemplative, his countenance alight with happiness. “Our child…”

The dreamland is here to stay.

As I slip into my warm bath moments later, I feel accepted with open arms. Maybe…just maybe…the two of us could pull through. I shut the door quietly as I hear Marlin sliding under the covers of the bed, and finally sink into the water, letting soothe my bodily cramps, and my worries.

The sweet fragrance of lavender fills my nose as I inhale the tranquil scent that wafts from my freshly scrubbed tresses. My damp hair hangs hot and tangled at my back. The bathwater is clouded with the lavender, but its warmth is still comforting, massaging my aching abdominal muscles.

It feels so relaxing, so dreamlike, to soak in nature’s sweet perfume and bask in the luxuries of the present. As each second passes, the strain of life slips from its unpleasant roost on my shoulders, to the stagnant pool of the past, where it will remain.

I find my shoulders looser and less burdened. My husband is indulging in peaceful slumber in out home, I have a healthy baby on the way, and fall harvest has smoothed over the indelible concern of winter…dreamland. Heaven. Perfection, and I’d be a fool to ask for more.

My eyelids droop as the room becomes blurry, and I begin to succumb to my omnipresent drowsiness. Tomorrow will be another day to venture into…but first, rest…

A sound from the front of the house jolts my eyes open.

Irritated, I lean over to twist my hair into a woven towel and tie a robe around myself, stepping slowly from the warm confines of the water and into the frigid air of late autumn’s fury. I shiver, wrapping my arms around my torso, and heave open the door, stepping out of the kitchen and into the living room.

The fire is crackling merrily in the stove’s hearth, its embers illuminating the room in orange and yellow. Beyond the glow is a figure of a woman.

I freeze in terror, my mind racing and my pulse throbbing.

Penny loafers adorn her feet, and her frame is plump. Her round face is creased with age, but still familiar, still kind. Her graying hair is swept into a flawless bun.

Oh. My. Goddess.

“M-mom?” I choke out.

She grins dazzlingly and trills: “It has been a while, Jill. How are you?”

It is then that I notice the hefty carpet bag in her hand.