"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
They were touching her, so soft and little with persistent taps, and she tried not to care; tried not to feel it tickle at her heart or dare to make her believe something good could come of what had been done. But there they were, gently prodding at her and lipping at her, because they needed her. It was not like being loved, but they did need her and perhaps that was enough.
The man's laughter startled her, the sound of distant thunder from within his deep chest. "So nothing like Klaus or William?" he teased lightly, and she immediately followed his thoughts to her own name. Wallace. Her twin Dharwyn. Typically names for boys. Wallace is no name for a girl, he'd said, and named her Lacey.
Lacey.
She suddenly didn't feel that flicker of hope in her breast anymore as shadows clouded her eyes; hope that maybe she could laugh again. One day. So she said nothing, kept her gaze downcast.
"Kylin," he said finally, and she tentatively spied him in the corner of her eye as he tended the little girl with a soft smile. Again, she was soured with herself that even this stranger was a better mother than her. He reached for the boy then, played at his little forelock, before that warm and gentle gaze was falling to her. It burned, that warmth, that tenderness, and she glanced away again. It was a beautiful name though, fitting for such a beautiful girl.
"Can you stand, dove? I believe they're hungry." He stepped a mite closer and her heart began pacing a little quicker, her muscles tightening. Anxious, uncertain. Maybe..no, not afraid. She held her breath as she waited an eternity to see if he would touch her, unable to look at him. But he didn't. Only settled near. "Take it slow. I can help, if you need."
Her ears buried in her hair a moment as she tilted her head further away from him, hiding the cruel emotions in her eyes. Hating herself for her weak reactions to him, like some beaten and pathetic creature. I don't need help, she replied flatly with a bite to her tone, dragging herself stiffly to stand. Too quickly, it seemed, as she stumbled into his solid shoulder and her head began to spin. Seemed he was right to warn her to take it slow, but that certainly didn't help her mood.
She shrank away from that touch with a gasp, snapping her teeth at him as though it had been him pressing into her and not the other way around. Guilt came with that, only making her more frustrated with herself, avoiding his sea-blue eyes yet again. She steadied, pretended the walls were as still as they were supposed to be, and felt the little ones shuffle in beneath her. Their eagerness startled her and she almost jerked from their touch too, but managed to hold herself rather than fall into him again.
Dull, brown eyes could not be piercing, though they did give it a try as she finally lifted to meet his gaze, forcing herself to hold it. Who are you, she demanded, maybe even believably firm. She thought he may have said his name before, but she couldn't remember. Couldn't figure out why he would be so familiar with her as though she would know him. Did she?
Of course did they need her. She was their mother. She had given them life. And with that an automatic bond of love had been forged. Unconditional love. Like the bond between the twins. But it wasn’t their mother who cared for them. Instead it was the big white one, though she couldn’t say it was unpleasant. Instinctively she reaches for him, only to still as he names her. ’Kylin’. Her head tilts in his direction, hazel brown orbs blinking a few times, before her moving dam catches her attention. She doesn’t know the meaning behind it, not does the strange sound mean anything to her, but it feels off.
She doesn’t get a chance to ponder much longer over it, not that she would be able to, her short time in this world made it impossible for her to do so. Instead there was her brother, even though she didn’t yet knew what it exactly was. Her wombmate, the one who had been in there with her together, though left her early, was the one to distract her. She stumbles after him, copying the way how he nudged their mother’s side, a soft sound coming from her lips.
The big white moves, her dam stumbles into him an nips at his shoulder. Was that what she should’ve done too? But that’s another thing she does not ponder over, wobbly legs brining her forward as she leans against her brother’s equally lavender and white side. It is like a stable factor against her, supporting her and keeping her up, while she reaches underneath to nourish herself with her dam’s free udder. She’s unaware of the situation going on around her. Not the words her dam shares with the big white. Not the way they had brought into the world. She’s in the now, tasty substance making its way into her mouth and stomach as she gently sucks, though her legs still wobbly as she stood next to her taller brother.
Kylin
being a twin is like being born with unconditional love
He watched curiously as the man ruffled through his twin's mane, bestowing upon her such a fine and delicate name, sweet and also steely. Kylin. The boy grinned widely at him in approval, little eyes dancing as he came to lip at his forelock. Lavender and white skull bumped back at his bigger muzzle playfully, but something quickly distracted him and he froze, staring at nothing.
Lacey.
A stranger's voice in his mind, so smooth and enchanting. Something entirely magical and intoxicating. Not mother's and not the man's, an echo from somewhere else, another time. He loved the sound of it, wanted to hear more. But again he was distracted, attention instantly snagged on mother rising and both babies settled in to nurse. He was oblivious to the stumbling and the snapping, only moving in once mousey mother had stilled.
He suckled eagerly as she directed a question to the man, his little hip pressed comfortably to his sister's side. Who are you? And he suddenly wanted to share the new thing he had learned, that wonderful voice that made him want to snuggle in close and cradle someone warm. But he waited for the man to answer first, tugging more milk hurriedly and then jerked away to break in to this adult conversation.
Lacey, he exclaimed confidently, proudly. He knew this thing, he'd heard it from the sweetest voice he'd heard yet! He was surprised to find his own voice was just as smooth, but much, much higher pitched. Still, his was beautiful too. He liked that. Bright eyes flew to mother to seek out the pride that must be there.
Only to find she had stiffened so sharply and ducked her pretty head away from them. He turned wide and wounded eyes to Reilly, little mouth agape in astonishment. He'd done something bad! But that voice was so wonderful, how could it be bad! He was certain it had said Lacey, absolutely positive! He pressed more firmly into Kylin for comfort, so confused at this painful reaction.
02-20-2017, 05:57 PM (This post was last modified: 02-20-2017, 06:05 PM by Reilly.)
His little joke hadn't gone over so well as he'd intended, instead setting off the opposite reaction. Reilly frowns as she seems to sink further into herself, hating that dull look in her lovely eyes. He has a need to wash that shrouded expression from her, but has no idea how to do that right now. It's clear to him that the gobshite that did this to her was still fresh on her mind, and as much as he wants to replace those awful memories with new and better ones, he knows it will not be a thing that can be rushed. And he will not rush her. So, perhaps it is lack of understanding his own emotions toward her and her new additions that leads him to go with instincts and gently clean the baby girl he'd been asked to name. And when he chooses one, it flows from him comfortably. Once spoken aloud, he is filled with some sense of pride- rebellious heart swelling- as Kharon seems to approve and Wallace seems to accept. His gaze meets the hazel of the girl's, and then the boy's, unable to keep a deep chuckle from escaping as Kharon bumps his muzzle back when he'd lipped at his little forelock. Then, they are growing impatient at their mother's side, and he can't help but smile.
He will not rush her, but he gently gives the suggestion for Wallace to stand, offering a steadying hand if she needs it. Her agitated response, however, has the edges of his lips quirking even as a shred of concern forces its way in as she rushes to a stand. Amusement fades as she sways, but he forces himself to remain where he is so as not to crowd her, even as every ounce of him wants to be right there to help. But then, he doesn't need to move. She stumbles into him and Reilly holds fast, tucking his neck under hers. He doesn't mean to touch her, truly, but his overall focus was to keep her from falling. It all happened so fast, and when she shrinks away and gasps, he jerks his red head up and away. Just in time, as she darts out to snap at him. Her teeth scrape the skin at his shoulder and he grunts- more in surprise than pain- and yet continues to remain in the same spot he'd been all along. It is little more than a sting, and his muscle ripples at the spot as if to shake off a fly. His blue-green eyes fill with hurt as he finds her face, turned away from him yet again, though he is still able to catch the guilt there. The pain isn't for him, but for her and the fact that he can't reassure her. He sighs then, washing his expression and backs a step once more, giving the little family space as the newborns grab their first meal. Eager lil things, he thinks with a touch of a smile.
She turns those tired eyes to him, trying her best to glower and it takes a large effort not to show his amusement. And pride. Even after all this, she is a feisty woman. So strong, even as she feels so low. "Who are you." She says, every bit a demand rather than a question. His first thought is to feign something in the way of hurt or offense that she doesn't remember him, although all things considered, she had been through so much. He couldn't blame her, wouldn't be upset with her. He does smile softly, dipping his head lightly. "My name is Reilly. I found y' in de forest and gave ya to Ashley so he could bring ya home here." Now it is his turn to glance away, barring guilt from entering his expression.
He's just about to apologize for not being around more, as he had meant to and wanted to, when her little boy pulls out from under her. He's adorable as he grins up at them, smacking his milk-covered lips. "Lacey." Kharon says, and at first Reilly is confused by the sudden statement which was followed by the stiffening of Wallace's body, the flash of so much pain he sees as she ducks her face away. Reilly frowns, unknowing of the significance of the nickname, though he definitely thinks it suits her. Though clearly it sparked some awful memory. He made a mental note of it. But.. "Where'd ya hear dat, boy?" Meeting the wounded colt's stunned expression with a curious one. He was careful to keep roughness from his voice, phrasing it as an idle inquiry and his face is warm and open as he lowers it to the lad's level. His eyes are on Kharon, waiting to hear his response, but a great deal of his attention remains on Wallace, watching her every move in his peripheral.
He looked like he might laugh or smile, and she was glad he didn't. She wasn't sure if it would have been a good thing, or how she would have responded, if she'd only lash out again or somehow find comfort it. Most likely she would become hostile again, and she didn't really want to. He didn't deserve her sharp moods and biting tongue. All he'd ever been was kind, and still she attacked him, put up walls and kept him at a distance.
Reilly, she repeated in her mind. Yes, it sounded right. Maybe she had known his name, had only forgotten it. He'd seen her in the forest, and her face flushed at that. Of all the times to come upon her, he'd managed all the worst ones. When she was soaked in sweat, blood, and sex, when she was drowning in her own lonely misery and forced to give birth alone. Or almost alone. His interaction with her would always be colored with the gross and the ugly, the weak.
She kept her face blank, though. Up until little Kharon spoke her name, her other name. She tensed and jerked away, her heart stopping. How could he know it? Her eyes were wide as she faced the wall, her mind reeling as she waited for him to answer that question, as Reilly voiced it for them. She was glad he spoke it, couldn't trust her voice not to be too harsh just then, sharp and lethal to an innocent child. But she also didn't want Reilly to hear his answer, whatever it was, to know any more of her troubles than he already did.
But she was locked in place. Couldn't turn, couldn't face them. Instead she reached for pretty Kylin, quiet Kylin, craning her neck around and methodically licking her teeny hip as she nursed as Reilly had done for her earlier to clean her. He was a better parent already, perhaps he had many of his own children, but she could at least pretend. Tried to keep herself busy, maybe appear not as shaken as she was, though her glass eyes told the truth.
Where she had been unresponsive to her given name, hé did seem to understand it. But thus far he had always been the first with things. He had entered this hazy world before her, he had managed to climb to his feet before her, he had gotten his name before her and now he understood things quicker than her too. But she couldn’t get herself to care, simply because her young mind is not able to gasp such deep thoughts just yet. Instead she keeps nurturing herself, totally oblivious to whatever conversation was being held.
But then. ’Lacey’. This has her pull her head back from underneath her dam’s barrel, turning around a bit to blink at her wombmate. She watched him smile at their dam and instinctively she reaches out to bump his flank with her muzzle. Perhaps to get his attention, perhaps to confirm if that was how they were supposed to call her. Because she is looking at him, she doesn’t notice the change in their dam right away, or maybe that was because of her dulled senses.
It seemed to have the desired effect though, as he is at her side soon after. Her muzzle brushes his cheek lightly, but only to move back to her dam’s udders. The bit white question’s aren’t directed at her, so in their little hazy world Kylin decides to go back to that one pleasant thing out here. The gently cares at her hip encourages her to continue. The first thing she does after finishing is reaching out towards her mother’s muzzle, rests of the food still lingering on her lips and thus its effectively smeared across her dam’s nose.
