11-19-2021, 05:50 AM
(This post was last modified: 11-19-2021, 05:57 AM by The Queen. Edited 1 time in total.)
Content Warning
This post contains content that may be unsettling to some readers, including:- Creepy crawlies (bugs)
As the days came and went, the newly crowned queen had been busy. As the forest moved along and the giant beasts came and went, she steadied her mind and prepared for her task. Now that her prince had given her the ultimate gift, the princess had quickly transitioned into a queen.
Her wings had dropped. Her freedom in the skies, shortly lived, was lost forever as she trudged along through the moss and lichen. She hunted for a single purpose. Her brood, freshly fertilized within her abdomen, would require somewhere warm and moist to become what would be her colony. Goma's life had always been dedicated to the Greater Wisdom that her mother, and her mother's mother, and so on, had passed down to her. Antkind lived in a world that was full of treachery and sin; it was up to their race, and theirs alone, to create the pure cities and fill them with true goodness. All else was happenstance.
When eventually Queen Goma found her new world, it was positioned under a fallen tree. The roots had long been taken over by insects and fungal matter. The rotting of it produced needed moisture — perfect for the beautiful family she would raise.
The first many days were difficult. She acted as a lone worker, tunnelling her way to the epicenter of her new world for a few hours until she was deep enough to begin. Then, she pushed away dirt until there was a great chamber, a wonderful beginner's nursery. Her sisters in the great beyond had been eaten by predators and pulled apart; only one other had survived from her colony.
Feeling the area with her antennae, Goma laid her first few eggs, tucking them gently beside her within the warm dirt. The eggs continued to come at a steady pace. They kept up and up until she had practically walled herself in. Already there were hundreds of them, each beautiful to her. She tended them fiercely, sensing their temperature, ensuring their safety.
More than a week later, the first larvae began to emerge from their strange shells. The babies were as maggots, tiny and white and wriggling, begging for food.
Goma had not eaten in the entire time, relying on her own body reserves to keep her going. Her mother had taught her that it was the call of Nirvana that would keep her strong during this period and prevent her from eating her own young. Goma found, in fact, that she had no desire to harm her brood. They were very much a part of her. She fed them tenderly with her own saliva, feeling for them within the darkness of the chamber, careful not to step on any eggs with any pressure that might hurt them. These were the moments that she would treasure for the rest of her life. These were the moments where it was only her and her children. They were helpless, and she was the All Mother. To them, she would forever be the All Mother.
On the evening of these first hatchlings, there was something strange. An odd, fascinating, green light spewed and bounced through each tunnel and through to her chamber. Duty bound her to stay there, of course.
One day soon, her workers would tell her of the green fire that lit this place at night. For the moment, she rested, waiting for the new hatchlings to grow, watching them each day by day.
“My daughters. One day, you will become the world, and you will rise to seek oblivion unto the great beasts, and we will find solace in their fury.” Surprised, she paused as more eggs deposited. She found herself chained of her own accord, and in those chains grew an anger.
Her wings had dropped. Her freedom in the skies, shortly lived, was lost forever as she trudged along through the moss and lichen. She hunted for a single purpose. Her brood, freshly fertilized within her abdomen, would require somewhere warm and moist to become what would be her colony. Goma's life had always been dedicated to the Greater Wisdom that her mother, and her mother's mother, and so on, had passed down to her. Antkind lived in a world that was full of treachery and sin; it was up to their race, and theirs alone, to create the pure cities and fill them with true goodness. All else was happenstance.
When eventually Queen Goma found her new world, it was positioned under a fallen tree. The roots had long been taken over by insects and fungal matter. The rotting of it produced needed moisture — perfect for the beautiful family she would raise.
The first many days were difficult. She acted as a lone worker, tunnelling her way to the epicenter of her new world for a few hours until she was deep enough to begin. Then, she pushed away dirt until there was a great chamber, a wonderful beginner's nursery. Her sisters in the great beyond had been eaten by predators and pulled apart; only one other had survived from her colony.
Feeling the area with her antennae, Goma laid her first few eggs, tucking them gently beside her within the warm dirt. The eggs continued to come at a steady pace. They kept up and up until she had practically walled herself in. Already there were hundreds of them, each beautiful to her. She tended them fiercely, sensing their temperature, ensuring their safety.
More than a week later, the first larvae began to emerge from their strange shells. The babies were as maggots, tiny and white and wriggling, begging for food.
Goma had not eaten in the entire time, relying on her own body reserves to keep her going. Her mother had taught her that it was the call of Nirvana that would keep her strong during this period and prevent her from eating her own young. Goma found, in fact, that she had no desire to harm her brood. They were very much a part of her. She fed them tenderly with her own saliva, feeling for them within the darkness of the chamber, careful not to step on any eggs with any pressure that might hurt them. These were the moments that she would treasure for the rest of her life. These were the moments where it was only her and her children. They were helpless, and she was the All Mother. To them, she would forever be the All Mother.
On the evening of these first hatchlings, there was something strange. An odd, fascinating, green light spewed and bounced through each tunnel and through to her chamber. Duty bound her to stay there, of course.
One day soon, her workers would tell her of the green fire that lit this place at night. For the moment, she rested, waiting for the new hatchlings to grow, watching them each day by day.
“My daughters. One day, you will become the world, and you will rise to seek oblivion unto the great beasts, and we will find solace in their fury.” Surprised, she paused as more eggs deposited. She found herself chained of her own accord, and in those chains grew an anger.
the staff team luvs u
