"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
And there's a lesson waiting to be learned the firestarters always get the burns and the good guys never get the girl
She’s a first-class idiot, that she is. First, for falling for the guys she should not be near, then, for seeking one of those guys out (the wrong one, she should have picked the other one at the time) and not recognizing that he was never there for her personality but for her looks, and third, for letting him get under skin once more. For calling him names and that it front of another, who could have been a friend had she handled things differently.
She’s pacing, chastising herself. She’s still angry with Arty, although the explosion of emotinos and words had drained her now. If she ever saw him again, she hopes she can handle it better. Perhaps ignore him for now. Yes. Pretend he’s nonexistent.
Outwardly she has calmed pretty well. Pawing at the riverbank, she knows that she is not calm enough yet. She needs to tell Llowell what happened today. She has no other opportunity, because sooner or later she knows that Arithmetic will get to him, talk to him, tell him the tell-tale fairy tale he’s spun for his own mind so as not to have to feel guilty about any of it. But in this state of mind of hers, she cannot go home yet.
Home! Oh, she can’t tell Kag about his whereabouts. She’d set out to murder him, and make a fool of herself just as Ilma had. Or Solace - her mind too occupied with kingdom matters, she should not be worried about any of this. Svedka then - she can’t ever tell him. She did tell him what Arithmetic had done back then, a year ago, and she’d felt him tense. No idea where that would go but, he shouldn’t be angry, doesn’t become him well.
Much like herself.
She stops and sighs. She can’t go back yet, she concludes over and over again. She’ll spend the night here if need be. It’s winter, but, no place is ever as cold as Hyaline in winter, so she will be quite okay.
Sortof.
and shooting stars cannot fix the world
@[Nymf] if you want. She could use a friend right about now I think. (:
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
Wandering. It almost felt to be a permanent state for her as she found it impossible to cease her tireless attempt to escape her guilt. The pounding of her heart thumped in tune to the pull that urged her to return to that moment of time. It felt like it could almost be too easy, to return back to the days when she would wake at his side and feel the warmth of him. Exhaling she hated to accept the complexity of their relations. Despite her growing desire, she could not bring herself to reveal to him the truth of her growing middle - and he had been blissfully ignorant to it. She knew she had remained there too long, embracing the ease that was her nightly return to his always eager embrace. Perhaps that painted her as slut - but the magnetism that was their attraction was undeniable.
Lost within the blue of sky, she followed the length of the river, accosted by a swarm of memories of her first meeting with Svedka. It had been midwinter when she had peeled herself out of his grasp. Hardly able to convince herself that their growing child had nothing to do with her sudden need for space. Alone, she had been tormented by nightmares nightly - forced to relive the cruelty that was the memory of her son's birth and death. Though, instead of his cream colored frame, a miniature of Svedka lay in a precious heap. Lifeless. Waves of panic would wake her - gifting her with another day to cling to her foal's small signs of life. With all that was within her, Nymf knew that she could not deliver the child near the place where she had bid farewell to her son. And so, she wandered, avoiding the coastal plain.
Swooping low, her eyes drank in the sight of the slowly thawing river. The rise in temperature was barely noticeable, but she caught glimpses of its evidences upon the land. Effortlessly her hooves met the slush that made up the ground with a shock of cold sent up the length of her legs. Wind whipped through the trees, icy as it drifted off the face if the river and wrapped her in his lingering scent. Even after so much time remnants if him clung to her. Stumbling forward she exhaled, her body trailing alongside the trickling body of water. Absently, her mind wandered as she walked. Rounding the bend a glimmer of light caught her attention. Blue eyes snapped to focus onto a lone milky figure belonging to another as she paced, clearly troubled by her thoughts. Nymf could relate. Like the cremello, the mare sported a brightly lit pair of wings - seemingly composed of the suns light as they glimmered with every movement made.
Hesitant to disrupt whatever plagued the mare, Nymf maintained the distance between them.
07-15-2018, 01:38 PM (This post was last modified: 07-15-2018, 01:39 PM by Ilma.)
Ilma
And there's a lesson waiting to be learned the firestarters always get the burns and the good guys never get the girl
The longer she stays by the water, the more she realizes that this winter night is not so cold as the ones before, or just not as cold as those in Hyaline. Spring is on it’s way. It leads her mind to last spring, the anxiety that had accompanied Llowell’s pending arrival, only countered by the palomino stallion’s unfaltering confidence in her. She smiles a little, but it wavers when she thinks of telling him -eventually- what had occurred today. With another sigh, she starts pacing back and forth again.
Turning around, she faces the riverbend where another mare has appeared in the meantime. She halts again, then approaches the other mare. A cremello, like Ilma herself was in her first two years before she’d started to white out even further, resulting in her moonlight colour she is today. Winged - like she once was, too, the only difference the copper points. At this time of the night Ilma’s own wings are fading into nothingness, clear almost as they are. They’ll be back and fully lit come sunrise, but she cannot fly at night any more. Something she did often last year, finding a peace and quiet in the moonlit sky back then. But perhaps she will not need that any more. Besides, she can walk, although it means that she meets more horses apparently.
”Hello.” she offers, from far enough away that the salty tang of the Nerinian rocks and even Svedka’s own masculine scent have not registered. She smiles - a diplomat once more, unlike not too long before. She closes the distance, then the smell hits familiarity, and she nods, ”Ah, you’re from Nerine! How does the kingdom fare under the new queen?”
It’s only then that she shakes her head with a laugh. ”Sorry, I’m jumbling up the order of this conversation. I’m Ilma, ambassador of Hyaline, though I can’t say if I’m worthy of the title today...” her voice trails, and she realizes she is talking too much again, very unlike her. Perhaps it’s the need to get the story out. But that’s no excuse. ”No matter. I shouldn’t tire a pregnant woman with my personal troubles.” she gives her new companion with an apologetic look. She smells vaguely of Svedka, she registers - well, she guesses she never laid a claim to him and shouldn’t start now either. Though she wonders if he is the father. As far as she knows, it would be his first, and he would be mighty proud of that baby if it was the case. But he hadn’t told Ilma anything about a baby, and well, she hadn’t exactly determined if she was actually in love with the man and if he was intersted in her that way either - all in all she felt she had no right to bring up the possibility of him being the father. If she had the right to lay any sort of claim on him anyway - he was always a wanderer, so of course he would have multiple women or love interests running around Beqanna. That’s just part of who he is. So perhaps - perhaps she should try and find them all and bring them home to Hyaline. Prevent possible siblings from having to live without a home.
Oh, now her thoughts are rambling even worse than her tongue. Good thing the other woman can’t read minds. Can she? Perhaps she reads faces, which in this case, might be just as bad.
She shouldn’t assume anything beforehand, after all. Rather she would let the conversation flow where it should, and see who this mare was and what she was like. Quite possibly this child was another’s entirely and she’d just recently met the palomino overo by chance. Or maybe she did not like Ilma at all. Also a possibiliy.
With that, she tries to still her mind and focus on the cremello-and-feathered mare. Her own wings dissipated as the last ray of sunlight disappeared behind the horizon, she was just a white Andalusian, as she always was.
and shooting stars cannot fix the world
So, that had like, no break at all. lol
@[Nymf]
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
The riverbank is rocky and alive as once slumbering creatures emerged from their holes. Spring was a beautiful time, even despite the rushing of the river. Lost to it's current, branches and debris traveled unwillingly with it. As dusk befell the land, the chill returned and Nymf shivered against it.
It doesnt take the ivory stranger long to turn and notice Nymf there, partially hidden by barren branches. Blushing, the cremello mare ducked her head in a meek greeting. The longer she stood, a discomfort had taken a hold of her. It was unlike anything she could explain, but she fought to keep her discomfort from impeding her courteousy. As she moved to approach the sunlit mare, a sharp prick radiated from deep within her abdomen. Flinching ever so slightly her trail twitched, its copper toned tresses swaying with the effect of the motion. Shaking away the cramp she refused her smile and took her steps forward.
The sun had faded substantially and, with it, the mare's own glowing wings seemed to yawn. Truly a marvel she wastes no time in offering a spoken greeting, her words warm and excited as her own feet carried her closer. With growing nerves, Nymf listened, ever aware of the clenching and unclenching of her uterine muscles. They felt tight and demanding and she did her best to hide her discomfort. It was easy to credit the sudden shift as a result of her incessant travel - perhaps something not advisable for one in her condition. Still, she found an unexpected joy to be in the presence of another mare. It had been longer than she cared to admit since she had strayed from her solitude. Lust had consumed her and it was her growing comfort that had motivated her to leave.
Ilma's questioning launched Nymf back into reality as she asked about their new queen. Her blush deepened.
"Truthfully, I would not know," she admitted sheepishly. Her muscles tensed as she spoke as another cramp snuck up on her. "I have not been back for quite some time -"
She gritted her teeth and stumbled backwards, her eyes closing against a strong wave as it overtook her. The child within her tossed itself violently, her hooves kicking out in protest.
"I'm sorry," she offered weakly. "I'm not quite sure my unborn child appreciates my sudden need to travel."
Although she chuckled, her nerves trembled. Grown lightheaded and began to sway as another shot of pain tightened its grip on her - this time accompanied by a sudden gush of fluid. Her water had broken.
And there's a lesson waiting to be learned the firestarters always get the burns and the good guys never get the girl
The urge to move her wings - imaginary at this point though - was still there, almost like a phantom pain, or in this case, a phantom itch. But it had nothing to do with itches; rather with the slightly stressed look she got from the other mare, as if she was preoccupied with something else.
The copper-tipped cremello didn't get much time to put in an answer. She'd just about told Ilma that she hadn't been in Nerine for a while when she had a need to close her eyes, grit her teeth, catch her breath again. This pained look had Ilma worried, because if like the other mare said, it was the child not thinking travelling was a great idea, that could possibly end in complications with the foal.
She walked closer to the mare, examining how she looked - her own problems forgotten at the moment; children had priority. "I don't think... Is this your first?" she wondered. Perhaps she did not recognize the signs of starting labour, or she'd convinced herself that couldn't be it because it was early in spring. But nature always found a way, and, if she was to deliver relatively quick, then so be it. The white mare snorted softy in surprise when the water broke. Well, that's it. She's taking over. "Come here." she nodded to the bushes close by, a little bit more secluded from the open space by the water. "It's time, so you're better lie down." she instructed. Whatever the other mare had been thinking to go travelling this far into her pregnancy, it was of no matter now. She was going to give birth right here on the spot, leaving no time to think on any previous actions. Ilma thought herself lucky to be around here, even if the circumstances could have been better.
and shooting stars cannot fix the world
@[Nymf] You just got yourself a midwife
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
Her eyes blinked, in seeing as her mind attempting to grasp the reality of her circumstances. Hot fluid ran down the length of her legs, seeping into her tail as it signaled the imminent birth of her foal. Spring was still new and worry immediately erupted within her. Images of her lifeless son buried at the base of a Nerinian cliff flooded her senses and immediately panic gripped her heart. His labor had been quick and painful. Fully formed and utterly beautiful he had looked a picture of his father and she had waited - desperately searching for signs of life. Numbed by her numerous losses she had been ready to end her life, to join them on the other side. Only, Volcan had found her - had reminded her that her death would not have been what they would have wanted.
But now her body struggled as it prepared to deliver for the second time.
The temperature had dropped significantly as the sun's warmth fades, giving way to night. Wildly her eyes darted around, searching for him as her body hungered for the familiarity of his touch. It is only as her gaze idly passes upon the white mare that she comprehends the question asked. Shaking Ilma's voice sounds foreign, almost as if it had been shouted from a faraway place. Slowly she shook her head 'no', admitting to her past failure to deliver.
Her body clenched and writhed as the foal desperately fought to escape. Without the water to surround the child, Nymf could feel the full weight of the foal pressing upon her pelvis. It tore through her like knives and her eyes remain glued to Ilma as she instructed the worried mare to lie down.
She obeyed. Almost immediately as her body kissed the cold earth the urge to push consumed her. Tears streamed down her face as new fears presented themselves. What if the child was born still, what would Svedka say? Would he hate her for her failure? She couldn't bear to think upon such things as wave after wave of contractions tore through her petite body. The world around her swirled with color as her head fell to the dirt as she strained and fought against her own physical desire to push until she could no longer. With one massive heave she was greeted by a sudden relief as her foal slipped free from its place within her.
Breathless she lay still, the sudden quiet unsettling. Tear soaked and caked in sweat she shook from the effects of her exertion. She closed her eyes and listened to the pounding of her heart - above all else she wished to see her child alive and healthy. Lifting her head she gazed over the top of her vacated belly and locked eyes with a pair of warm irises.
Through wetted lashes the filly watched her mother with vibrant curiosity and waves of relief crashed upon Nymf. The foal's heart was beating and she was absolutely perfect. Although dampened by her mother's fluid, she was the color of summer skies. Like her father, however, the soft blue of her coat was interrupted by patches of white. Nymf smiled warmly and gently licked the film away from her daughter's nose. It was miraculous, she relialized with a weary grin, to see such a gift given to her.
Bleary eyed and delirious she gazed up at Ilma, fresh tears escaping past her veil of happiness. "Thank you, truly," she muttered through trembling chords. "I could not have done this without you."
Baby, you're like lightning in a bottle
I can't let you go, now that I've got ya
Thus far her existence had been one of utter simplicity. Her world had been compiled of fleshy walls and the singular beating of a heart belonging to the one whom she already felt connected to. She was safe and warm and fed, growing larger within the confines of her protection. But it was as her size continued to enlarge that she found her once abundant space suddenly shrinking until there was no longer any room left for her to stretch. The more cramped she became the more she kicked out in protest, until, one day, the walls began to kick back. Squeezing and pushing she found herself maneuvered towards a small opening and it was as the beat grew more insistent that everything would change.
Warmth exchanged itself for a bone aching chill as she fell onto a bed of coarse dirt. Dryness surrounded her, leaving her to feel uncomfortably sticky and detached. A gritty substance clung to where her body met earth and her limbs unfurled, finally freed from their confinement. There was so much room, she realized as her eyes blinked against the fading light. The dome above was no long pulsating and red, instead it sparkled against darkening shades of navy. Everything was so loud - so vibrant.
Weakly she found her strength and lifted her head. Immediately she was met by a pair of glistening blue orbs. She knew them, even without asking. Mother, her mind confirmed. Locked in a precious moment of recognition the newborn remained completely oblivious to the presence of another. It's only as the ivory mare moves forward that she is brought to the fillies attention. Frightened by the unfamiliarity of her she struggles backwards, a strangled sound of concern slipping past her newly discovered vocal chords. Confused she watches her mother address the stranger and then stand, her limbs in perfect unity to her intentions.
Inspired by the fluidity of her dam, the filly concentrates on her own gangly limbs. Summoning all her concentration she gathered her wobbly legs under her and lurched herself forward only to fall forward once more. Frustrated by her failure she huffed and tried once more with her tongue peeking out from between pursed lips. Finally standing she looked up at her mother, searching for approval.
07-24-2018, 01:59 PM (This post was last modified: 07-24-2018, 02:00 PM by Ilma.)
Ilma
And there's a lesson waiting to be learned the firestarters always get the burns and the good guys never get the girl
She left the other mare as little time to think about it as possible; that seemed the best thing to do, considering how fearful she looked. Ilma noted the small, but terrified-looking shake of the cremello mare's head with wonder - but it was something she stored for later. Right now, they had bigger fish to catch.
She moved around the cremello pegasus carefully, clearing bits of dirt, rocks and sharp branches away just in case. Keeping one ear and whenever possible also an eye on the other mare, it seemed that the birth itself was pretty normal. When the foal was half-out, eyes still closed, Ilma removed the leftover amniotic sack from the baby's face but otherwise did not come near again, or at least not in a touching-distance-matter, until the winged mare looked up to find her. Then, the white woman smiled back at her. "You did great. And she's lovely." Sky blue in base, and clouds upon her in a familiar pattern, Ilma could only wonder.
The filly made some standing attempts, and fell down a few times - Ilma kept an eye on her, but she seemed lively enough, and she would get the hang of it soon. She wondered what should be her name -
about that... she chuckled softly and addressed the new mother. "I didn't catch your name yet. And what about her?" she asked. Surely it would be helpful if she knew how to call them. The other prying question... could wait one more round.
and shooting stars cannot fix the world
@[Nymf]
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
The evening air was thick as the shield of night embraced them. Faraway a nightingale heralded the descent into darkness and Nymf shuddered at the spookiness of it. All around her time seemed to slow and she realized that it was later than she could have expected. Even the river seemed to move with an increased laziness, the sound of it almost soothing. Leaving behind a star littered sky, the sun slept bringing with it a cooling breeze. Upon weakened limbs, she stood protectively over the newborn filly. Sky blue, the filly would almost match the summer sky itself. White tufts of color broke apart the perfection of her soft hue and the ivory of her mane and tail contained the copper found I'm Nymf's own complexion. Soft and lithe the filly was built for beauty. Innocent brown eyes watched the adults with a curiosity as she hobbled around on unsteady limbs.
Nymf's own limbs seemed inspired by her daughter's perserverence and she felt her strength slowly returning to her. The sound of Ilma's voice broke the silence and the cremello mare turned towards her. She flushed at the embarrassment of having not introduced herself properly. Taking a steady step forward she waited patiently for her child to draw near. Clumisly the filly set off in search of milk, the effort nearly toppling her completely. Smiling, Nymf gently guided the foal towards her objective and the foal instantly began to nurse. Nymf grinned victoriously, elation coursing through her.
"I do apologize," she chuckled, her giddiness infecting her to her very core. "My name is Nymf, it is a pleasure to make your aquaintance. Words cannot even begin to describe my gratefulness towards you. Without you I do not think I could have done this."
Glancing at the blue framed filly her smile wavered as fresh emotion gathered in her throat. A name presented itself, one that she would have named her son had he been born female. It seemed appropriate that it would find a new meaning, purpose and life.
"I think I will call her, Faellyn," she said, the name fell past her like a breath held too long.
Tentatively she met Ilma's gaze, her giddiness fading with the realization that there was still much to be done. Her mind shifted towards Svedka and everything she had been so sure of became shrouded by a thick haze. It was obvious that she could not return to Nerine as she had previously planned. Absently, she felt her gaze turn towards the mountain ranges just barely visible above the canopy of trees. Heavy hearted and filled with worry she realized what needed to be done. Faellyn deserved to know her father and he had a right to know of and be a part of her life. As anticipation once again bubbled up within her she realized that she had to face him.
Nymf
I Have No Tears Left To Cry
@[Ilma] for timeline sake we can just say that they discuss svedka as being the father and Ilma agrees to escort them to Hyaline? I'll get a starter up there asap.
