Born Phlebotomist [Complete✔]

Yemaya

Theme Song: "Fate" by H.E.R

Omniscient POV

On the second day, the world seemed to slow. Her world seemed to re-shatter. Her bright light, gone. Not even an ember of hope or semblance of hope. All gone. Billowing in the wind like the frail needles of a dead dandelion. No strength. No will. No reason for living. All like glass dashed to the unforgiving ground; splintered, destroyed, decimated.

The day of the solidifying of she and King's love, desecrated with the death of their child. She had kneeled her knees raw. Kneeling all day and night after the first day of his passing. Straight through to the break of the sun of the second day. Praying to any one that would possibly listen to the pleas of an orphaned, completely broken, desperate mother. To bestow the miracle of breath to her still and breathless blessing.

"Lavi, you gotta eat or drink something. Please." King pleads with the crumpled heap that no longer resembles the vibrant, beautiful, feisty wife of his.

That had an unyielding zest and appetite for life. Now a broken shell of a despondent, emotionless drone. Laying motionless, Lavender just closes her eyes and drowns out the sound of King's voice. Absolutely blocking out his presence until she feels the weight of his hand on her back. Shrinking into herself, she causes his hand to fall; weightlessly to their bed. Hearing him huff a defeated sigh and his weight be deducted from the bed, Lavender opens her swollen eyes.

She stares unblinking at her perfect sleeping boy in his white bassinet. Like a little angel sleeping on a cloud. Lost in her bubble of self loathing, despair, and misery the hours pass her by. Crumpled to an inconsolable skeletal frame of her former self, Lavender allows her sorrow to gnaw away at her. Like a parasite eating away at the host from the inside out.

"Alert. Maw Baptiste, now approaching the front door." Rosey blares through the intercom.

Still frozen, Lavender remains numb and insentient of the voices now entering her tomb of suffocating desolation.

"Well bay-bay, we'll do all we can. No promises, understand, Cher?"

Marguerite's thick New Orleans accent floats softly through the imperturbable room. Absolutely nothing King has done has elicited or roused any emotion or sounds from Lavender; and thus far neither are the voices of Laurent and his mother.

"Aight, Blaze. Do you wanna go to another room or stay in here?" Asking softly, Laurent needs a definitive answer.

"Uh, here is cool. I guess." Looking over to his unwavering wife, King answers softly.

"Alright boys join hands." Marguerite instructs them.

"Nou rasanble isit la nan oné nan yon nanm pédi ki bezwen konséy tounen nan peyi a nan k ap viv la! [We gather here in honor of a lost soul who needs guidance back to the land of the living!]"

Lavender tries to ignore the foreign tongue being spoken behind her, but as more is spoken an eerie chill begins to settle upon her once warm room.

"Lespri atache ede nou jwen nanm ki pédi a Kingston Iman Phan. Gide l'epi tounen vin jwen nou![Tethered spirits help us find the lost soul of Kingston Iman Phan. Guide him back to us!]" Chanting Marguerite's voice echoes loudly off the walls. "Do you have what we need?" Looking to King, he nods somberly.

As he reaches onto the nightstand by his side of the bed he walks over and hands her what she is asking for. Unwrapping the beautiful sky blue silk handkerchief, Marguerite reveals the section of the placenta that's veins resemble the strong roots, sturdy trunk, and flexible branches of the tree of life.