Altissima had come earlier in the autumn than he had expected. He had expected to be greeted by cooler winds before the pale mare even returned to the foothills of Loess. But she had returned, and Tarian didn't bother to hide his happiness at seeing her. It was as clear as a shining day, as bright and beaming as any glow that either might shine.

The first few days with her had been just as Tarian liked them - quiet and secluded (though the white pegasus did draw her back to the sea, to show her that the aptly-named Altissimas hadn't grown dull on his watch), away from the rest of the world.

But, as Champion of Loess, Tarian couldn't hide away from the rest of his country (or his duties) forever. While the night still lingered, the pegasus cast a tender glance to the sleeping mare beside him. He doubted Wildling would tolerate him for that long; that she would stand for idle even less. Pressing a soft kiss against her lovely cheek, the winged horse stepped away and out into a bruised world that had yet to bleed into daylight. Tarian glanced back once and knowing that the resting female would be alright, the gray slipped into the shadows for his first patrol of the day.

Loess is quiet, as it always is. The hours are slow, and most of Tarian's trails remain empty. His morning is spent mostly in silence - until the sound of children's laughter - breaks it when the pegasus nears the canyon that he had seen Lady Oceane and the grizzled diplomat, Ledger, frequent. What he has to share can wait; the gray stallion turns away, giving the family their privacy, and his pace quickens, eager for a soak in his favorite hot spring and to return to Altissima.

She wasn't already soaking, like Tarian thought she might be. He had come around the bend to find the cloistered pool they often shared empty. But their resting spot is not, and the silver warrior smiles. It wasn't like her to rest so long. His patrols aren't routine. Tarian chooses different trails and times but Altissima was almost always awake when he returned. As he studied the soft outline of her glinting in the morning sun, he found that he couldn't recall a time that she had rested so much.

(His mind briefly flashes to the Eclipse, when she had been so weak from the absence of the sun, and Tarian wonders if he should find them a spot not so shaded.)

Stepping closer, Tarian decides that the rest of his plans can wait. He's careful not to disturb her, though his wings struggle to settle neatly against his sides. If Altissima wanted to rest through the day to tease him for his glow at night, Tarian didn't mind. He'd wait, ready with his courtier manners and his wry humor, to see if he could bring the light where he loved to see it the most: her ever-changing eyes.

TARIAN

When he feels her stirring, the pegasus can't help it; he gently reaches for her. If she had been planning to rest for a few more hours, he wouldn't have waked her. Tarian had planned to stay nearby, and perhaps take a rest himself. They often lose rest in other activities, and it wouldn't be hard for the gray stallion to doze off with the sun warming his hide and the warmth of Altissima so close. '

But she stirs so he smiles.

He catches the first color of her eyes - a shade not far from his piercing blue - and then it fades to violet. Her mouth moves against his skin and it dances in reply, lightning still striking where she touches. He presses his winged shoulder into her side and lifts a white wing, wishing to draw her close. But something is wrong, he thinks. Tarian turns his head to look at her, because they have come together often enough now that is second nature to him.

The shaking in her voice is new, and it immediately worries him.

Tarian studies her as she pulls away, though he is careful not to give away his concern. Her wings have appeared, and wrapped around her sides. He looks down at the way she holds herself, before glancing up as she began to speak. It takes him a moment to realize what she is asking; that she is asking him about children, about a family. (He wants to say that he could barely comprehend that there would ever be more to him than just his solitary existence. He wants to think that sometimes he still thinks is dreaming, that he had never dared to imagine her. How could imagine more?)

"No," he tells her honestly, "Before this...," he says, (before us, he means), "I was a soldier." After Paraiso, Tarian had planned on being a warrior until the day he died, until the day that a battlefield claimed him. He wanted no widow, no children. He's always stayed away from any lasting relationships because they would have to end with him, and Tarian never wanted to impart that pain on another. "And then came Loess."

Not a battlefield, but another ending just the same.

"Did you -," Tarian tries to continue their conversation, knowing that she already had a daughter. Did she want more? "I mean, do you want -"

TARIAN

Tarian knew about the timing of the seasons. It had never bothered him that Altissima came until early winter because a child was never something that they had to worry about. And though she had come earlier this year, he had honestly been so happy to see her that the Loessian never thought about the consequences.

He never thought of a child; he's never let himself think of a child.
Until now.

Altissima is always the exception with him. Tarian has always been a man of very few words, and he has never had any strong desire to keep idle conversation. He deplores small talk much the same way that his pale mate loathes the cold weather. There is so much that he wants to say but there is a stone on his tongue, and it weighs down his voice so that there is no sound. He watches Altissima with her wrapped wings and the small laugh she gives startles him out of his silence.

I would have preferred to talk about it first.

Talk about what? His mind is clouded with confusion, something in him refusing to put all the pieces of Altissima's words together. But she is direct, and gets to the point in a brutal honesty that he'll appreciate later. He'd thought that they might be talking about the possibility of children, of starting a family. But what she says is that they are already past that point. There already is a child and the gray stallion lifts his head, and his careful expression gives way to one of shock.

"You mean," he starts, finally finding his voice though still lacking his ability for a complete sentence.

"You and me?" he asks, letting the revelation settle in his head, before it starts to flow through the rest of him. It lightens his broad wings and suddenly, there is a bursting sense of sky at the center of his chest. "No," he says, firmly. "No, it's not that." He moves hesitantly to reach for her, to touch her but pauses to glance down at Wildling, with a smile stuck in the middle of awe and admiration. "A child, Altissima."

Something - like her - that he had never imagined.

TARIAN

Altissima reaches for him and removes any divide or doubt between them. Ours, she tells him. The soft murmur of her voice reverberates through him, echoing the word over and over again, until Tarian repeats it smoothly back to her. "Ours," he says, still lingering between the shock and marvel of it all. His dark muzzle gingerly traces the top of her spine, glancing down at the still slender sides of the female beside him beneath her blue-sheened wings.

The moment they disappear, his silver one drapes over her and pulls her gently beside him. (Though there is a moment where he glances up, his blue eyes seeking hers out - not wanting to be too rough with her or their unborn child.) Altissima - even when she had been sick during the Eclipse - has never been a fragile thing to him; but he knows nothing of childbearing.

She's done this once before though, reminding him of her daughter, and if she does not object, then he will not worry (or try not to).

She tugs lightly on his white mane, and Tarian glances away from her barrel. He has no way to know anything about her condition, but his mind is suddenly full of questions. Did she know if it was a colt or a filly? Would they be winged like their parents, or would they be land-dwellers at Tarian's parents had been? Would they be as black as his grandfather Abaddonn, or would they inherit that lovely blue sheen of their mother?

And what would they call this child, besides the word (ours) that still rings in Tarian's mind?

"No?" the gray pegasus counters to Wildling, and though his voice is still quieter than his usual authoritative rumble and his touch somewhat still cautious against Altissima, the winged stallion teases her in a way that feels familiar for them. "I think Tarian the Second has a nice ring to it," he continues, attempting the courtier's lilt he had been taught during his days in Paraiso. He can't help but laugh quietly, the joy within in him having nowhere else to go but out. "Or how do you feel about Altissima Junior?"

TARIAN

The slightly smaller pegasus bumps Tarian - knocking a little sense into him - as her hip goes against his. He glances at Altissima, understanding her meaning well enough. He might be uncertain about the changes that would take place over the ensuing months - but this - his tentative touch would have to. His smile turns rueful, a quiet apology in place of his earlier reluctance.

Altissima's tug on his mane becomes more playful, and his blunt teeth give an equally hard tug on hers, obliging in her request that he treat no differently than before.

"What if I wanted to call you Glowy?" he asked teasingly, laughing against the lovely arc of her neck. "I think it suits you better."

He stands there a moment, imagining their child. He has similar thoughts, that their child might share a shine similar to its parents. That it will have wings, as he and Altissima do. His blue eyes roam over the curve of her spine, wondering if it would be speckled like its mother or if it might share her ability in changing the color of its eyes. He wonders if it will be quiet like him, or fearless like their mother. There are so many possibilities that Tarian decides there is no way to consider them all, and it seems even less likely that they all could take the form in just one child.

A child, he thinks again, still hardly believing the fact.

"We did," Tarian murmurs, coming back to Altissima. It makes him think briefly of when he first arrived in Loess, and spoke to Lepis about his family history. The way that the Legacy clan had traced their heritage through the name of their forefather's. "My grandfather's name meant valiant in our language. And my father's name meant the good yet to come." He's never explained it this way, it's always been that he was the son of Malachi, who had been the son of Valerio, who had been the son of Ichiro. He smiles warmly against her, "Mine means to shield, to protect."

Tarian had always wondered what Altissima meant; if the parents that left her in Pangea meant to give her name as strong as the woman she became. He wonders if they might start a tradition all their own. "What if we named them after you?"

TARIAN