12-07-2017, 09:05 AM
I love the way you rake my skin, I feel the hate you place inside.
It never occurred to her to want more than what she had -Longclaw, her beautiful blue mate who elicited such fire and drive from her in a way that no other could even breathe a spark of interest into. Now she has his son, for there was no denying the colt bore more than a striking resemblance to her beloved. Then too, there is this - the newfound filly, that is fast becoming a daughter when Femur never thought to have little ones tripping around under her own feet. But here they are, the girl and her, and that connection that is spawning between them.
The stretched out repetition of the word coaxes a laugh from Femur’s lips. “Yes, wings.” she echoes as the girl - no, her daughter now - beats them against the air for a moment. Femur can feel an ounce of pride swell her breast as the girl experiments with them and seems to arrive at a rather momentous conclusion that concerns those extra appendages - they will give her what Femur’s own invisibility and fangs give her, she is certain of that. Freedom. The sense of entitlement of those that Beqanna’s strange nature has gifted and made something other than just horse.
Femur looks down upon the child’s head as she presses herself closer to her.
She is slim of hip still, barely thick in the teat with milk (she makes it come, the others draw it out of her in quick tugging sucks), and not at all plump as a mare with foal ought to be. Femur is next to virgin still or would be had it not been for a hot sweet night with her beloved in their lush tropical haunt beneath the volcano’s smoldering eye. This is the first time she thinks of Tephra - of what has become home to her though home is wherever her blue mate makes it for them because he carries her heart like a strangled rabbit in his wolf’s teeth.
The resolve in the girl’s answer further confirms her initial thoughts at stumbling across this one, and though her smile is fanged (she cannot help it, the eyeteeth hang below her upper lip), there is no malice in it. “Good.” is all the answer she gives her as they sojourn forth, their sides never much apart for a few seconds here and there and Femur keeps her stride short and slow to accommodate the little one’s pace. She thinks nothing of the journey until the girl gives pause at the river and displays a bit of nervousness. Femur looks on as the wings flare and the filly sniffs at the water, probably seeing her reflection for the first time.
“A river, and we will cross it.” if there is assurance there, it is brief. There is no time to trifle with and the girl will learn of water and it’s ways through the coming days. Especially when they go to the shore and must cross the sea but Femur always picks the times to cross when the tide is at it’s lowest and her charges have a chance at something other than drowning. The girl does cross eventually with some assistance and encouragement from Femur, gentle bumps of her nose and a slight nip here and there to steer her into the calmer currents. That same initial sense of pride returns to her as they pause upon the opposite shore as the filly gets her first good look at the volcano thrusting up from the imperfect and hot landscape of Tephra.
Awe seems foremost to be on the girl’s face as Femur watches her, perhaps a little too keenly. Then comes the war of bravery and fear, and the play of it upon that little face is fascinating to look on. Is this how she once looked when she first beheld the wastes to which she had been spat from her mother’s loins upon? Perhaps, but she can hardly remember that for the quickness of one brother’s taunts that hardened her and the shambling sickness of the other against whose skin she cried her tears into. Odd, to think of those twins now and not know what either of them is up to.
But she has other things to think of now, foals and a mate that occupy her heart and brain in no particular order other than that Femur has copious amounts of attention to give them. The word crowed into the air that is directed at her snags at her ears and pulls her out of her thoughts - “Mama!” A glowing shout to match the glowing upturned face that her black eyes fall upon with a measure of earned affection. The expression of gratitude earns the girl another fanged but tender smile that is also a token of Femur’s rare affection. She decides the girl must have a name, if one had not been given to her…
“No need to thank me, my girl but your manners are impeccable and impressive already.” Natural, they come natural to the foal and Femur hones in on that - could the girl be a diplomat in the making? It is possible, as is the fact that she must introduce her to her brother and even though the girl gives her a stupid happy grin and nuzzles her neck, to which Femur drops her head and plays with the tiny whorl of hair on the girl’s brow, blowing out air through pursed lips for a moment before jerking her head back and giving a loud bellowing command for her son to come forth.
“My darling, do you have a name for yourself? Something that I can call you besides girl?” she had to ask it, had to know what her sweet one was called. “I also want you to meet someone -” but the sentence is unfinished as the blue roan colt with the amethyst purple ombre points comes forth from the underbrush. One son and one daughter, now united, and Femur is the picture of pride! “This is your brother, Wildling.” and the colt knows what is expected of him, so he gives a nod to the girl and extends his small purple nose to her as he exhales a little loudly in wordless greeting.
Femur
@[Valensia] don't post to the gansey thread. i'll tag you when he follows femur home because femur will want to introduce them all then to longclaw lol. trying to keep the timelines flowing right! <3