How does one handle their own death? Well, one hopes.
Happy Christmas Eve, or as the old people used to call it, Mōdraniht, which was a night where women were honored and perhaps even had a celebration or two to thank those around them for the consideration they had to push all those little love goblins out of their bellies and into the air. Of course The Church banned it, because it was some old pagan hoohaw that they simply could not abide by, so we hear stories now about how a sacrifice or two were made at night to appease the Matres and Matronae, who were protective female deities.
So if you’re looking to have kids, say something nice to the Matres and Matronae, and who knows what will happen next. Yeah?
Slowly this long scene is starting to take place, and trust me, it is a long scene. But given that I’m averaging about five hundred words a night, it’s taking it’s time getting out.
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