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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    [private]  my words are unerring tools of destruction; femur
    #1
    my words are unerring tools of destruction
    He is tired, and hungry, and he's cold.

    It has been almost an entire week since he lost Mother, and though he wandered as best as his little legs would take him, he did not find her again. He had found a place where the fae-folk had fed and cared for him, kept him warm, but Gansey simply hadn't felt comfortable with the place and so when they were busy with a new arrival, he slipped away early this morning. But night is falling again, and he has not yet found Mother. 

    The temperature is dropping, he's so hungry, and he feels tears threatening to choke him where they build in the back of is throat. From the Den he had wandered into a few places today but this place is darker under the tall, tall trees, and Gansey just can't walk any further. He's thirsty, too, and his legs hurt. His fury is baby-fluffy, but it's not quite enough. He picks a promising, lonely tree and drops to the ground beneath it, nearly hidden in the tall grass that has sprung up around its base, sweet-smelling but unappetizing to the weeks-old foal. 

    Maybe, if he wishes it hard enough, Mother will find him while he sleeps.
    gansey
    and I've become unequipped with the ability to disarm them


    @[Kristin]/@[Femur] sorry this took forever to get up :|
    Reply
    #2
    His son -
    No, their son, is in need of a sibling. To be specific, a brother to race the wind against and spar with. Or she tells herself that she’d prefer to steal him a brother instead of a brainless beautiful sister that he might one day covet for his own once he learns that there is no blood shared between them.

    Femur, of the magpie heart, has learned something too.
    She covets the newness of them and their blind trust in her once they’ve forgotten all about their own milk-mothers and cast their eyes upon her painted flesh. Least, that is how she tells it to herself on the long walks when the tide is out and the longer swims when she has to hold her head up above the waves. That the fresher from the womb they are, the likelier they are to like her.

    What she doesn’t fathom is this sudden desire to collect them in their infancies. Perhaps because her loins have felt the first invasive thrusts of her beloved’s thick length but has been left as empty as a dead galaxy bereft of a single star. She finds her stars in their tender soft heads that nestle against her shoulder and her flank. The dependent need in their imploring gazes is her tether to something that Femur has yet to experience for herself in the truest sense - motherhood, and so she steals and mothers as best as she can and no one has told her otherwise.

    (Femur would not be denied. Not by him, her blue lover or by the overseer of the land as she fattens their ranks with fresh impressionable minds. No, is not a word that she is familiar with in this life.)

    Night finds her stalking the tidal flats in the sea’s absence. It has drawn back, as if knowing her intent to peruse the places that a foal is likely to be left alone or forgotten. Some lose themselves and others are lost from the beginning. Femur, with a magpie’s sense of finding and direction, happens upon them with a coo and a murmur and a kiss planted on their tender brows. Like she’ll find him tonight - alone, disparaging, and she’ll bring her lips to his brow and leave a kiss there that is full of unspoken promise. But for now, she stalks forth, purposeful in her stride and invisible to the eye.

    The forest is a familiar haunt to the ghost-girl and she knows it well. Better than most but not half as well as she knows the iridescent blue of her lover’s skin. Here, is a tree separate from the rest and the grass tall and sweet beneath its boughs. She spares it a look but has no time to answer the call of hunger in her gut so she remains invisible and about to leave that tree and that sweet patch of grass behind when a scent makes its way to her on the wind. A tender scent of milk, despair, and newness that translates into her brain as the scent of a foal and look, no mother nearby!

    Femur, not mother, is who shall find him there, curled up asleep beneath that tree.
    Femur, who sniffs at his lightly furred face and might tickle his ears with her whiskers.
    Femur, who pops back into tangible flesh and shape in hopes that when he wakes, he’ll see her and she can begin the proceedings of stealing this one back to her - no, their - heart-home in Tephra. For now, Femur’s black eyes see only the colt - small and dark, and her soft croon is that of “Come wake, little brother” in such a manner as to cajole him from sleep and to her side.

    (She is blessed to have learned how to make milk from her maiden teats to feed her first foundling. Femur can do it again for him.)

    @[Gansey] no worries! i'm a might slow right now in posting anyway and definitely too tired to use html lol. <3
    Reply
    #3
    my words are unerring tools of destruction
    He is cozy enough tucked into the tall grass with his wings wrapped around himself to doze, and then sleep fitfully. He dreams of mother, but already the memory is harder to conjure. Just the idea of a dark shape and right eyes, and a scent he will never forget. It is from one such dream of being wrapped in that comforting scent that her gentle touch awakens him, and the boy blinks open his dark eyes, murmuring “Mother?” with a surge of hope even as he locks his gaze on the light-colored mare who is not his mother.

    Another being might express disappointment but Gansey is a naturally happy and eager-to-please soul, so he smiles sweetly at the mare who is not mother, flaring his nostrils on a deep inhale as he instinctively tries to capture her scent, blowing his own back in her direction on the subsequent exhale. Before he can say anything further his tummy rumbles quite loudly for both of them to hear, and his ears flip out sideways in a rather depressing flop, his distress obvious on his little face. It was easy to forget he was hungry when he was asleep, but now it is back full-force.

    “Have you seen my mommy?” his attempt at bravery fails before it begins as he looks up at her from his position still curled as tight as possible with legs tucked underneath and wings wrapped round himself; “I lost her but I’m very hungry.” not that she couldn’t tell that for herself, since his stomach sounds as grumbly as an earthquake. “The faeries we’re feeding me, but I didn’t like it there. I thought I could find her.”
    gansey
    and I've become unequipped with the ability to disarm them


    @[Femur]
    Reply
    #4
    I love the way you rake my skin, I feel the hate you place inside.
    His sleeping looks fitful and it is fitting that she disrupt it before dreams become nightmares. Femur would have let him sleep further were it not for her own desire to be back in the lush tropic hideaway of her beloved where she has left another curled around himself in the grass to sleep and dream. She is distracted from thoughts of that one by how this one stirs beneath her tender touch and begins to come up and out of his dreams with a hopeful question that Femur can only shake her head at. No, she is not his mother - not the one who rightfully bore him, but she can be all else that a mother can be to him.

    She is not quick to answer him because he is charming her with a child’s smile that offers up all the innocence and trust left inside him. Femur is slaughtered by such a look as the one he gives her even as he breathes her in and exhales himself out so near to her nose that she cannot smell anything but the sweet soft baby scent of him. This moment, she is about to drop her nose into the tufted fuzz of baby forelock and mane and press more mothering sentiments to his brow when the thunderous rumble of his stomach shakes loose loud enough for even Femur to hear it.

    The sad flop of his ears and the disappointment on his face is more than enough to undo her - he must be hers! He is a perfect balance to the little one she left laying back in a hot secret part of Tephra that is known to few else but her beloved and her. Even his small attempt at bravery is commendable for all that he looks like he is trying to curl inward upon himself and her lips find his cheek in gentle encouragement. “No, I have not.” and the admittance is neither sad nor pained - just truthful as she looks at him with understanding rich in her eyes.

    “I’d imagine you are.” she has never known a hunger like the one he must be feeling. Sinew had been free with her milk for her daughter and now, Femur can do what she can for him by encouraging him further with her nose to get up and go to her flank. She is certain she can make the milk come for him as she has for her other son, odd to think of him - them - as hers, but they are and they will be. If only for a little while, until they’ve grown and take on the world in their own way. For now, she is content to be the gravitational pull that refuses to spit them back out onto their own feet.

    “Come,” she murmurs, giving another encouraging bump of her muzzle to his cheek. “I’ve enough to go around.” and she gestures to her own teats that are not quite full and swollen but Femur is nothing if not resilient - there will be enough for this one too, she knows it, somehow. “You were brave to try and find her.” More encouragement, more bravado in the face of his despairing situation if he decides to not drink from her and follow her but Femur thinks he is a smart boy and he’ll not look a gift horse in the mouth even if she isn’t quite his mother. Beqanna provides, she always does.
    Femur


    @[Gansey]
    Reply
    #5
    my words are unerring tools of destruction
    Later, he will be sad that she has not seen his mother, but he is new. New enough that, in time, the loss will fade, and memories of Femur will take their place. It won't be instant, but he has a million and more years to sort through the complex feelings being adopted will bring upon him.

    But today? Today he is really, really hungry. She doesn't have to invite him to her milk twice; the boy climbs to his feet, wobbling only a moment. His wings are half spread for balance, still so downy they are barely useful for flight (not that he's had anyone to teach him, anyway), and he takes the few quick steps to her side, reaching down to lock hungry lips around a teat and search for the warm, life-giving liquid. While he is nursing hungrily he leans into her warmth, the feeling comfortably familiar. Both fuzzy ears flick back to catch her praising words and one wing mantles slightly, preening under the compliment, though the other is tucked neatly between Gansey and Femur.

    The colt drinks until he is not starving, and then a little more, because the simple joy in not being hungry is just so nice. But finally after a few mostly quiet moments of him nursing, curiosity gets the better of hunger and Gansey comes 'round the mare, brushing close as he walks around her haunches and back towards the front, looking up at her from where he lets himself stop, tucked against her right side. "Thank you," he chirps the words by rote; manners had at least been something mother had begun to teach him when they had encountered strangers in their few very short days of travels. The 'pleases' and 'thank you's' and 'excuse me's' that make polite society go round. "I'm Gansey," he adds after a moment's consideration.
    gansey
    and I've become unequipped with the ability to disarm them


    @[Femur] sorry these are short, still getting into him. :|
    Reply
    #6
    I love the way you rake my skin, I feel the hate you place inside.
    Stolen. Adopted. She takes the ones that the mothers leave behind. In this, she is a benevolent figure that comes amongst them with kisses and milk. It is the only benevolence she is capable of. Their little faces need to be cleaned and loved and Femur can give them that much, the same things that her mother always made sure she had. But she still cannot fathom how many mares walk away from those sweet little faces, leaving them to sleep and dream alone and unattended for the likes of Femur to find them. Their loss is her gain - he is her gain!

    She looks on, as he stands with a hint of a wobble. It is not a sign of weakness, but a sign of exhaustion and hunger as he spreads his wings half-out to balance himself before locking his lips around a singular teat and sucking for all his life. She could almost sigh, this felt natural. More so, the moment he leans into her further and sucks more and more. Femur understands so much in the seconds that tick by as she leans her head down to lick and chew at his little rump. Motherhood, it was a gift - a glorious gift that some just threw away, but she’d build this little one up, as part of her initial trio of foals.

    He’ll become brother to the two she has back home.
    She’ll ask the Overseer to teach him how to use those downy soft wings of his.
    Her mate, what will he think of this? No matter, she’ll convince him that this is her lot in life - to find them, bring them back, and make them more than their mothers gave them a chance to be. Stolen. Adopted. It made no difference. They were Femur’s now, and hers’ alone to care for.

    One last tug and he is free, full and satisfied and he toddles around her then looks up at her before tucking himself in against her side. An ear bends to the politeness of the manners instilled in him from the beginning. This too, impresses her and she has no reservations about having picked him from amongst the others that lay lost in slumber as their mothers crept off. She affords him a smile, another token of her affection.

    “You’re welcome Gansey. I’m Femur and I think you should come with me. This is no safe place for one as small as yourself.” She tries to impress upon him the nature of danger if he opts to remain, but she is certain he will not. He has suckled from her, known her kisses, and he is hers’ now. Gansey will follow, she is certain of it. As the first two had and she’ll show him a whole new world that is his for the taking, because she will make it so - for him, for all of them, those lost children of hers that are not so very lost now.
    Femur


    @[Gansey] no worries! he is absolutely adorable and i'm still figuring femur out as a mother so it's all good! <3
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