"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
It has been so long since she first gave birth to Adna that she almost forgets how peaceful it can be.
So many of the births in between have been marked by sorrow and despair; so many of them have been done either alone in the middle of winter or swallowed by a magic she could not contain. She forgets what it is like to feel it come in soft waves and then dangerous bites. She forgets what it is like to feel the swelling of it overtake her—completely natural except for the gentle way her magic curbs it.
It is spring and so much of Tephra has regrown.
She stands in one of her favorite spots, the flowers draping heavily in the arch above her, and she tips her head back, the corners of her crimson lips curving into a gentle smile. The breeze that winds around her is soft and sweet and carries the fragrance of the plants that now invade her volcanic home.
It is then that she feels the pressure in her belly.
She arches her neck slightly, letting the sensation ride through her, and she smiles again—so pleased to know that she had a chance to do this again. Like the first time, she lowers herself to the ground (this time on Tephran soil instead of Loessian rock) and, like the first time, she calls out for Vulgaris.
But this time, it is silent.
She lets her voice ride through the wind and gently curve around his jaw.
She beckons him forth to her nook of privacy within Tephra where she is settled on the ground. When he arrives, she angles her head so that her curled forelock slides to the side, her hazel eyes calm and steady. And then she says nothing. She simply gives into the natural ebbs and flow of life as it beckons. Her magic does not overtake her this time. Instead, it is sweet and subdued. She heals herself as she goes, blanketing the moment in serenity so that her neck is only barely damp when the second slips free.
An exhale breaks the silence and she rises, feeling none of the fatigue. Curving around her, she begins to clean the children—the only part of her not elated being the dull ache in her chest when she thinks of her other children and wonders where they are. She sends out a ripple of power toward them (not the first and certainly not the last)—a gentle reminder of her love and her concern. Her apology for all of her failings.
And then she looks up to Vulgaris.
“Twins again,” her laugh is silver bells as she rolls a shoulder. “They are beautiful.”
They are.
It doesn’t matter that they carry none of her or Vulgaris’ coloring like the other children. They are as bright as gems and she sees the shape of her husband in the barely formed curve of their cheek. She smiles, a tear softly falling down her cheek as she presses a kiss to each of their forehead’s.
“Saint,” she whispers into the fuzz of the girl and her eyes flick to Vulgaris.
Waiting for him to name the other.
As it has always been.
it's only you and me there until the darkness calls let's face the dawn together; we'll brave whatever comes
If there is anything in this world that challenges his love for Leliana, it is the depth of love he has for their children. Five girls and one boy, he reminds himself with a quiet laugh as he boredly walks along the border of Tephra. At least, he chalks it up to boredom but he has paced this trail so many times that it has begun to form a dirt trail. Several of the children had come early when the frost still clung to the grass fields in the morning but this year feels like an eternity. He swallows nervously as he turns to begin the path anew.
As he takes that first step, however, her beckon curls across his face like her gentle touch and he feels himself pause. His ears swivel forward and he hurries to her favorite corner of the kingdom. Vulgaris isn’t built for speed, of course, but his long legs carry him as swiftly as they can until he finds her there curled up on the ground. He smiles like an idiot, the expression wide enough to warm his eyes before he edges closer to her.
The pale man lowers himself carefully to lie behind her and occasionally brush her mane from her face with a loving touch. Leliana can heal herself and labor just fine even without him, he tells himself, but a knot forms in his stomach just the same as it has every time. The sound of her breaths coming in a steady rhythm is reassuring as he watches her face for any sign of discomfort beyond what he’s learned to expect.
Finally, he is surprised to watch a second baby join its sister on the ground. They shimmer like fire and little explosions of color when Leliana kisses them for the first time. Her voice is a morning hymn when she speaks the girl’s name like a precious secret. A slow exhale eases from his lungs, a breath he didn’t know he was holding, when he focuses on the boy. A boy and a girl, just like Larke and Chronos. Will they be as inseparable? His cheeks ache with the smile across his face as he carefully stands at last.
“Drache. A strong name for the youngest of our brood,” he says as he gently kisses each of their foreheads. “Saint and Drache.”
In this shook-up, twisted world, I'm gradually growing transparent and vanishing
Don’t look for me; don't look at me
08-03-2019, 09:53 PM (This post was last modified: 08-06-2019, 09:07 PM by saint.)
The first moments of her birth are warm. The air is not like the way she curled around her brother in her mother’s womb, but it is welcoming. She is immediately tied to the sulfur and the heat of her land. A soft chittering rises in the back of her throat: a hint at the creature her parent’s passions birthed. For a moment, her eyes are a rainbow of colors, and then they settle on a gentle olive green.
Saint.
Leliana breathes her name into existence, and the filly’s heart drops into Tephra’s soil. A magical knowing flashes in her eyes. She twists her head to peer at her mother, long black lashes fluttering and beautiful against her skin. A sweet second passes, one where the girl presses her muzzle so gently to her mother’s. A flash of sharp, white fangs gleam against her skin. What teasing look into ferocity she possesses.
The little dragon within Saint roars to life.
Ah-chew: a sneeze that interrupts her stare with her mother. Such a goofy little smile lifts the corners of her lips. Colorful droplets of something drip out. Saint turns from Leliana and stumbles to her brother, tripping over his spindly legs to fall at his side. A quiet squeal rushes from her throat, and then she is wrapping herself irritatingly around her sibling. “Drah!” she yells before nibbling on his side with her fangs.
Already, they are so closely interwoven: Saint stares at her brother with an underlying intensity that only the magic of Beqanna can understand.
He has existed in warmth and safety from the first spark. Divided from an early glimmer of life into two parts, himself one and his sister the other. It isn’t until she leaves him and he is then born into the world that he is aware of much more than weightlessness, warmth, and her company.
He is not whole until he settles onto the ground in Tephra. He takes his first breath upon that verdant earth, cleansed by fire, regrown through his mother’s power. When his eyes snap open in response to the first thrill of connection to this land they are deeply green and draconic pupils adjust visible and swift. His other early movements are slower, measured even though his new muscles tremble. Mother first, her beauty the shaping of a boy’s heart. He knows her smell before he ever breathes it in and bows his handsome face when she cleans its star strewn darkness. His father, who names him and bestows a kiss upon his tender brow he examines with a long curious look and shifts his small forelegs in an early attempt to get a closer look at his parents.
Yet his sister will not permit him to forget her and as she makes some attempt at his name his small ears swirl with the drunken inaccuracy of newborns. She nibbles at his side and he bares his fangs to snap at her without aggression or coordination. A very first smile tips his small mouth, and he noses her face exuberantly. The boy does not make any attempt at all to speak but instead returns to the business getting his feet under him. The light that falls over his skin caresses the nebulas and flakes of color throughout his still damp pelt. Drache wants to stand, though he isn’t sure how to accomplish that or why he ought to, but his Draconic vision brings him an increasingly bright and exciting world and he does not have time for words or laying down when all of this spreads out around him.
When at last he sways pensively atop his long legs he takes his first stumbling steps into Leliana’s shoulder resting there as he reaches past her to bump his small nose against Vulgaris’ leg. Then he wobbles back close to the sister who has no doubt found her own feet by now, cuddling in close and grabbing at her short mane with his small sharp teeth, already harassing the girl.
[Drache]
we’re stars now, can’t you see? the center of the world is lonely me.
It is like how it should always be, and she finds that she falls in love with it all over again.
The feeling of Vulgaris curled around her—the muscular curve of his neck and the feel of his lips against the sweep of her forehead and curve of her cheek. His breath is sweet as wine and she leans against him to drink it in, feeling it feel her nose and then flood through the rest of her. It is a moment of shared air that she carries into the core of her as she braces against the coming pain, the gentle tension of birthing.
In the aftermath, she stands, her legs steady thanks to her magic, but her being exhausted. Her hazel eyes grow tired in the corners, but they remain bright as she watches Vulgaris interact with the twins. “You have always been so good with the children” she comments lightly, feeling a breeze of love sweep over her again—that perfumed reminder of the tenuous beauty of the life that they share and create now.
It was not a guarantee that they would ever get to this point.
But they are here now and she savors it.
As the children climb to their feet, she considers sending them a helping hand in the form of her magic, but ultimately decides against it. Her gift is useful for many things, but she doesn’t desire to have it serve as a crutch for her children (or herself, for that matter). They would grow up strong and sturdy.
Instead, she lets it seep into the ground around them and the flowers that begin to bloom are magnificent. The leaves are glossy, the petals thick, and soon they climb the trunks of the trees. In a whirl of wind, several of the flowers sacrifice their petals. She animates them into small beings that scuttle around at her feet. Her smile is bemused as she sends them upward to dance before the children in a dazzling spiral.
It soothes something within her to know that her magic has found such peaceful outlets as this, and she spins up more petals, weaving them amongst branches and leaves and then placing the small floral crowns atop each of their heads. Leaning against Vulgaris, she breathes in deeply. “This is all I’ve ever wanted.”
it's only you and me there until the darkness calls let's face the dawn together; we'll brave whatever comes
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