I had most of this planned out in the shower; it's just taken, um, four hours to squish it into a hundred words. :)
Drip.
Three more until she'd have to pour it out; more risked spillage as she emptied it.
Drip.
The dripping had become her sole sense of time; one to a heartbeat, five to a breath, ninety-four thousand to fill the bowl again.
Drip.
Once, she'd had songs and poetry; now faded, tattered memories. She'd had sons, one made a wolf, the other's entrails turned to iron, binding her husband.
Drip.
Loki. All she had left. The venom splashed over her fingers, spilt in her haste to again shield him from the serpent.
no subject
Date: 2009-04-28 06:56 am (UTC)