Blood on My Hands

She didn't look up as her son addressed her. Fingers splayed across the infants chest, she exhaled softly. Eventually, Eularia moved to study each child in her bed, dark eyes drifting over sleeping features.

By the time she'd made her way back to Magnus, she slipped past him rather than stop in front of him. Barefeet carried her back towards the kitchen, where she had deposited something covered in cloth. Magnus hadn't looked too closely at what she'd carried.

I need... I need glass. She murmured, Do we have... She was rummaging for something; she'd seen it once. He'd gotten it as part of a gift... an everlasting marigold, contained in a glass case. She wandered through the house until she found the flower encased in glass.

And immediately dumped it out of the glass. Silent as she focused on her task at hand, gathering the still-beating heart in her hands, free of the cloth wrappings. You'd hate me for this. Probably. She doubted if she knew her husband well enough to know what he hated or didn't hate.

As she placed the heart into the case, magic gathered at her fingertips, as she traced invisible bindings to hold the organ securely in place so that it could not be jostled. And then, a dark mist bellowed against the glass, as she further prepared the item to uphold the long-term necromancy magic.

And then she sealed it. And lowered the organ onto the counter, studying whether it was level.

Heart-in-a-box.

She carried the glass container with her, through the house, as she stepped over toys. She stopped in the doorway of the bathroom, hugging the enchanted glass case.

Silently trying to figure out what to do with the heart, while she bathed. And she turned to leave, unwilling to part with the organ whilst she took a bath. Only to run into Magnus, dark eyes flitting upwards.

I don't... where do we keep him? It was cruel, really, selfish. But then, Magnus knew just how selfish Eularia could be. He'd trained her, after all.