There was an extra inch on her head. Her entire spatial awareness was thrown off, once again, ever so slightly. She really really hoped she would remember that when she went to bed later tonight, she absolutely did not want to hit the screws, even without the horns in place it would undoubtedly be painful.
She could already feel some of the effects of the openings, a subtle, vague feeling of pressure being relieved, like a tide gently ebbing. Though, it could be a placebo effect, she was still a bit out of it from the drugs, after all. Well, a bit more than that. Her eyes tracked a dust mote floating in front of her in the noon time sun, peering out from behind the curtained window. It drifted lazily in space, swirling slightly as it was displaced by Keris’ return to the room.
‘How are you feeling Ceiti-baby?’ She asked, kneeling down to meet Ceit’s eye level. ‘I feel a little, like, pink. Like if pink was a person, or, or a personality. Yeah. Do you think Oongx will like my socks? Even though they don’t match?’ She did her best to focus on Keris’ face, but her face kept shifting, her features blurring together. Keris chuckled. ‘Alright my pretty pink sweet-heart. Let’s get you something to drink. And I hear there’s no alcohol for you tonight, hm?’ She said, straightening Ceit’s outer robe fondly. Ovu humphed. ‘Back when I got my horns we didn’t have any of these fussy surgery rules.’ He gestured broadly with his hands, waving them as if to shake off the rules. ‘You’re the fussy one.’ Ceit slurred. Ovu looked a bit affronted but Keris just laughed as she poured Ceit some sweet milk.
After regaining some cognizance a couple hours later, she took afternoon tea with the family and Ovu, showing the little ones her bandages when they asked excitedly. ‘When will you put your horns in?’ Xia asked, approaching, eyeing her wrapped head gingerly, a colorful bandana loosely covering the bandages. ‘I’m supposed to wait at least six to eight weeks for the incisions to heal.’ She replied, sipping her arnica tea. ‘Does it hurt too much?’ Luth asked, concerned. ‘With all the painkillers I’m on, I’m still pretty out of it, so, no, not really. Just, my head feels heavier than normal. And my whole brain feels kind of fuzzy, like it's stuffed full of cotton.’ She put her tea down on the table, before flopping back into the depths of the couch cushions. ‘It’s not just my head though, my whole body, like literally every muscle feels so sore.’ Eistra came by with another pillow, nudging her to sit up in order to fluff the stack for her. She kept coming with more pillows, and Ceit was getting more and more reluctant to sit up with each pass.
It felt a bit reminiscent of her last surgery, only antithetical in all the ways that mattered. Here she was again, wrapped in bandages as her family milled around her, attentive to her every need. But despite all the apparent parallels, one thing was markedly different. Most importantly, she had chosen this, chosen to dedicate herself to Oongx. Now when the children asked about her operation their parents proudly shared her covenant with the calf god, rather than hushing them quietly.
Finishing up his tea, Xia headed out with the rest of the cousins to continue the afternoon milking, leaving Luth to help Ceit prepare for the celebration. She had already gone through the purification that morning, both mentally and physically, and was now going to take the additional step of an acolyte and paint her skin in bodily glyphs with the fragrant ink Keris had made her and Ovu, though neither her nor Ovu would be wearing Oongx’s relics, this event more celebratory than ceremonial. The cow hair brush swept over her skin as she bared her back to Luth, the ink slightly chilled, giving her goosebumps. She wondered who helped Ovu paint, or if he had perfected the ability to paint with a mirror. After the ink had dried, Luth held up her robes for her to step into, soft and billowy, with more of the fine filigree embroidery at the hems, this time in gold thread. She didn’t mention Ceit’s mismatched socks, though her gaze lingered for a moment, lips quirking.
As the mental fog slowly lifted, she realized she could think with greater clarity, that it was easier to concentrate, to focus. From Ovu’s account, trephining would open her mind to the gods, let in their messages. In the physician’s more technical description she was letting in more oxygen to her brain and altering both the pulse pressure and cerebrospinal fluid-blood ratio. It felt as if she was more herself. Like who she had been before had been muted slightly. Colors were brighter, more detailed, with so many more shades than she remembered. She felt both elevated and at peace. Like everything that should happen would fall into place.
