Private harder and harder to breathe. || ledger, birthing

[private] harder and harder to breathe. || ledger, birthing - Printable Version

+- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum)
+-- Forum: OOC (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=24)
+--- Forum: Archive (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=81)
+---- Forum: Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=98)
+----- Forum: Tephra (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=85)
+----- Thread: [private] harder and harder to breathe. || ledger, birthing (/showthread.php?tid=16484)

harder and harder to breathe. || ledger, birthing - Ellyse - 09-25-2017

** this thread takes place before the current quest hosted by Carnage

Ellyse

I have the tendency of getting very physical,
so watch your step 'cause if I do you'll need a miracle.

Her breath catches in her throat, a hitch that interrupts her own voice as she trembles so suddenly against the rock-laden precipice, staring down onto the solemn shore. She had ignored the pangs of pain for too long - (she had known that her time had come when the immense waves of anguish began to pull away at her sanity like the salty ocean tide to the bay) - eager for resolution, desperate for solace. Yet now the rippling pain that echoes through every frayed nerve within her gilded body nearly cripples her. A low, guttural groan escapes her where words might have lain as she finally submits to her own pain, as her legs collapse under her within the dark and briny cave, her gaze flickering to Ledger for only a moment - he had yet to leave her side; he is the only semblance of comfort she can manage to cling onto.

Agony spreads across her as if it were a flame to kerosene, igniting every untouched nerve and leaving her raw and trembling. She had been through the experience of childbirth many times before, and yet, each time seemed more frightening than the last. A shuddering sigh emerges from her parted lips as the endlessly painful contraction engulfs her in anguish, though she attempts to muffle it by hardening the lines of her mouth. Labor had begun long ago, though she had tirelessly attempted to drown out the shockwave of rippling, harrowing pain. She had pushed herself too far, urged herself to the very edges of a darkening, twilight-painted Earth and now the trembling pain that has surged up through her sinewy muscles, pulsating once more.

She aches for the sky, for the sea and lands unknown, but for now she sweats and cries for the child bursting forth from her womb. Soon, the caress of moonlight gives way to the warmth of dawn and a sheen of yellow and periwinkle flood the wavering stalks of greener, and with it comes the birth of new life.

First, a winged colt – mottled ivory with the same deep, vivid russet of his father, beautiful and blinking wide-eyed as her teeth pry away at the sac enveloping him. She can hardly breathe in the beauty of him, nor can she wholly appreciate his curious stare, his deep, lively breathing, before her body is wracked with another excruciating contraction, tightening around her mid-section in a way she had not felt in many years – not since Canaan had been born, since she had lost his sister to stillbirth – not since Magnus.

And then, with a shuddering gasp, the second comes – a winged filly, buckskin – and the sight of her is nearly enough to unravel her, to expose the devastating loss she had endured so long ago, under a pale moon not unlike the one glistening across the delicately sifting grains of sand. But the filly is not still; she is breathing, and she is beautiful – absolute perfection, so much so that she cannot see nor reason that the daughter that looks to her with wide, gleaming hazel eyes has the color of her past, of Magnus. She can only feel her rapidly beating heart, the relief seeping into her very bone, as her pale, whiskered mouth pulls and gently cleanses her son and daughter of their afterbirth.

”Joplin,” she murmurs softly to her, and then to him, ”and Joaquin.”

And then, finally, the golden flecks of her eyes search for Ledger's own in the dark, dimly lit cave, a warmth chasing away the darkness that had long since settled within her chest - with a faint, fleeting smile.

You want to stay but you know very well I want you gone;
you're not fit to fucking tread the ground that I am walking on.

RE: harder and harder to breathe. || ledger, birthing - Ledger - 09-25-2017

Bound for trouble from the start
I've been walking through this old world in the dark

The anxiety within him builds as each day creeps closer to her due date. The day comes… And passes with nothing to show for it. He worries deeply, trying to hide his anxious gaze when she looks to him. Hoping that both she and the child (children?) are ok, that nothing has gone wrong. She is so good at hiding things from him, so stoic when the pain started that he hadn’t even realized. Little winces here and there, shifting of her body. Stating she was uncomfortable in her own skin. Of course he was oblivious that the birth was beginning, that it could take time.

When she finally submits to the process, he is caught off guard. Before he had simply kept a wary watch over her. Letting her go through her private trial, not knowing where it was appropriate for him to be. This time he is by her side throughout the whole process. When the due date had passed, he refused to leave her. Not wanting to miss when it happened, wanting to support her and be as available as she needed.

They are back in the cave, the same cave where Smoak had been born. It’s so different this time. He curls against her, supporting her straining and sweat slicked body with his own. Lips pressing against the nape of her neck, encouraging kisses when she seems to falter or struggle between contractions. He doesn’t speak, speechless with his worry. This time it’s longer than before. The foal doesn’t come easy. His expression is dark with concern, no longer able to hide it. Perhaps he needed to get help, someone who knew what she needed.

It’s the coming of dawn that brings the first foal out. He is as breathless as she as she clenches her teeth and pushes the child out. His good eye watching with amazement. As she instinctively reaches for the foal and frees him from the sac, begins to clean it. A boy. A beautiful boy that carries the same wings as his mother but also resembles him. A perfect representation of them both. Before she can finish cleaning, she suddenly pulls back and groans softly. There is panic in her voice and he presses his muzzle to her belly, unsure of what to do. The solution is nothing, another child slipping free from within her. She had been right, there were two. Always two.

This one is a girl, who also has beautiful wings. Buckskin. Like Magnus. For a moment they are both suddenly lost in a flood of painful memories, mother and father. She grieves for a child lost that he does not know, he grieves for the father he longs for and despises. He wonders for a moment if she can see it too, the resemblance. If that was what Ellyse would think of every time she looked to her daughter. When the hazel eyes of both children look to him, it doesn’t matter anymore. They are his. His.

Joplin & Joaquin. Perfect, unique. Just like them. An eccentric little family. A slow exhale escapes him, relief flooding through him quickly followed by a swelling of pride and joy. Lovingly he pushes the drenched tendrils of forelock back from Ellyse’s face, pressing a kiss to her forehead. ”I'm so proud of you.” He murmurs huskily, meaning every word. She was the strongest woman, strongest person, he had ever met. ”No one has ever made me as happy as you, I love you.” Brushing against her cheek with a soft caress, protective already of his beautiful perfect family. His good eye can not be torn away from them, his children. Wondering what they thought of him, if they were frightened by the empty socket and savage claw marks. If they could sense his subliminal fear that he might fail as a father, fail them all.

Ledger

RE: harder and harder to breathe. || ledger, birthing - Ellyse - 09-25-2017

Ellyse

I have the tendency of getting very physical,
so watch your step 'cause if I do you'll need a miracle.

There is a thin sheen of sweat settled over her skin, and the gentle breeze carried in by the restless, rustling ocean current soothes her, splaying over her gilded skin and bristling, unkempt ivory feathers. She is beyond exhausted, but the sheer adrenaline pooling in alongside the euphoria does not permit her to rest for long – she does savor the sensation of his lips brushing across her forehead, of a tender kiss pressed against the bridge, lulling her heavy lashes into a fluttering close. The moment is fleeting ( she should cherish it – so much lies ahead; so much she does not know), and the warmth of his encouragement murmured against her ear is a reminder that she must rise, and so must they.

Slowly, though her barrel is still swollen and broad, she tucks her long and muscled legs beneath her, erecting herself before the small and spindly newborns that lay before her. Her tongue gently laves across the tender and hollow bones of their tightly tucked wings, plucking and preening affectionately at the soft, downy feathers that line the fragile bone structure until each are dry and cleansed of the remnants her womb had left behind across their skin.

With a gentle nudge to each, their own gangling limbs soon rise with a shake and a tremor, steadied only with her reassurance and soft, whispered praise – she is so often stoic and carved of hardened stone, but nothing has ever torn down the hefty, burdensome wall around her heart as easily as the warmth that only motherhood could bring to her icy heart. Her son and daughter - their son and daughter are wavering to and fro, but eventually become balanced enough to seek the warm and luscious milk from her teats, nestling close between the bodies of their mother and father – comfortable, safe.

Gently, her pale lips brush over Ledger’s cheek, and the heavy scarring of his empty, sullen eye socket, placing a kiss where his deepest vulnerability lay. ”Don’t worry, Ledger,” she murmurs softly across his jawline, resting her forehead near the crook of his neck to listen to the steady thrum of his heartbeat – to sync it with her own; to bring ease at last to her weary mind. ”they are mine and they are yours – they will love you as much as I, you. You’ll see.”

You’ll see.
Little did she know, fate had a different plan.

You want to stay but you know very well I want you gone;
you're not fit to fucking tread the ground that I am walking on.

RE: harder and harder to breathe. || ledger, birthing - Joplin - 09-27-2017

Joplin

freedoms just another word for nothing left to lose

The son was their present, the daughter their past. It had been stuffy in the womb. Once her brother had slipped out, she enjoyed the brief victory of more room. Until the sides of her prison tried to crush her and she was pushed out into the pale light of the world. At first she thinks she is suffocating before blunt teeth rip her free of the sac and she spills without grace out before them all.

The first deep breath is sweet with ocean air, tangy with the salt of sweat, metallic with afterbirth and blood. Little eyelashes flutter as hazel and gold eyes seek those that have brought her into this dimly lit cave. The first she sees is her brother, beloved darling twin, that had beat her into this world. Now she would always be the baby in their eyes, unable to be first. The indignity as she squeals softly, startled by the sound of her own voice. It seems loud and obnoxious as it echoes off the stone walls.

Big brother is already curled next to a larger figure who smells warm and milky. No wonder he’s by her. Spindly legs aren’t able to stand yet but she manages to scoot herself closer to the swollen side of her dam. The woman looks exhausted but she can’t help but focus more on the large white thing that she’s managed to snuggle underneath. It’s soft, feathers everywhere that tickle her nose and make her sneeze. Her own miniature wings try to move in reflex, still damp and clinging to each other with wet afterbirth.

As her head pokes out, and already trying to brutally move big brother over, she sees the stallion. He looks proud, happy. Grinning down at them with a warm dark flecked eye. She tries to smile back, not use to moving her face yet so it contorts awkwardly and she ends up squinting at him instead. The stallion laughs and in doing so, uncovers the empty socket with ravaged puckered skin. Looking between the two adults, she realizes one is not quite like the other. One has both eyes, the other does not.

There is no bad vibes in the cave, she feels peace and happiness and determines that a lost eye is nothing to be worried about. She gets her name first (take that big brother) and while her tongue can’t quite form it yet (gentle clicks fall instead) she decides she likes her moniker. Joplin. Mother’s tongue warms her backside as she cleans each of her little feathered wings. Her eyes closed, pleased with the affection but is distracted by a rumbling from within. Hungry, starving!

Determined to beat her brother in all things and prove how much of a baby she wasn't (setting herself towards destruction already) she tries to stand before he can. Twiggy legs crumple and fall before she can finally stand, shaking like the last leaf on a branch. Rudely butting against her dam’s side, she greedily searches for substance and finally latches on as if she may never eat again.

Welcome to the world precious pearl.