Beneath this sky of powerlines // Ivar, any

[Sabra]

There was a great rushing rise in the wind, grabbing and taking everything with it. Screams ripped the air like hungry teeth, and it felt as though her body and spirit were at war. Fiery lashes peppered her skin. At last, merciful blackness. Memory returned too late, only just soon enough to tell her that she lay in inches of icy water that was tinted pink with her blood as it whirled to touch her. Voices debated indistinctly overhead, growing louder and louder until they were once again screams of panic and rage. That godless wind was back, tearing at her violently enough to lift her listless form, unknowingly following the voices into a black void. 

For a moment there was peace. No pain, no sickness. Simply existence, and even that she wasn't too sure of. How long she drifted in impenetrable darkness was uncertain. When it was over, however, it waa painfully clear. The serene nothingness had been wonderful, until it was harshly interrupted by searing white light, a stomach plummeting drop, and the sharp smack of her hip dropping into more cold water and her forehalf jarring against hot sand. There was no rhyme or reason to the sensations. For several minutes she could only lay there stunned in the brightness, breath coming in fast, shallow gasps. Gritty sand coated her tongue, leaving it somehow drier than before. Masculine voices began to filter through her brain fog, sounding as shocked as she felt. 

                                 ▪■▪■▪■▪

"What the hell?" Raul flicked his head towards the weirdly twisting sands on the shore. It looked almost like a miniature water spout forming, not out of lint l line with the increasingly warm weather they were getting. It was strange to see one so close to shore, however. The fiery buckskin glanced to his brother where he had been grazing nearby, but the web winged twin was already approaching the water's edge. The ever present look of curiosity was etched into the paler brother's features, a fact that gave Raul no shortage of anxiety. Really, it was amazing the idiot hadn't gotten one or both of them killed already. 

Santana paid no mind to his brother's sighs and grumbles of doom as he trotted cautiously toward the twisting column of water and sand that had appeared on the beach moments ago. He knew his twin would follow him, albeit with an attitude and some tedious lecture once his curiosity had been satisfied. It had been like that basically their whole year of life. Their mother had vanished only couple months after there'd been born, and the only father they'd known was the gruff but kind Ivar, who had brought them here as young colts when they had been afraid and on their own. 

They had both grown quite a bit since then, lanky yearlings who favored separate parents. Santana had grown into a dreamer with a quick temper, while Raul was the more logical of the pair, and minded his careless brother as well as he knew how. Like now, for instance. Typical Tana, waltzing right into certain danger like a kakapo with a death wish. He couldn't just let the dork get himself killed, so he set out on his brothers tail, as usual. The beach opened up in front of them, grey clouds building overhead at an alarming rate. Was a typhoon brewing? 

A sudden roll of thunder made the twins flinch as it boomed over the water. The dervish on the beach exploded, and a strange, unnatural blackness appeared where it had been. It was as though the air itself had torn, revealing a heart of pure darkness superimposed over the backdrop of the ocean. It last just long enough to be registered before ejecting a pale mass and winking shut. The brothers looked at each other in trepidition. Raul knew strange things were commonplace in their homeland, his own twin claimed draconian wings and other traits, for fucks sake. But this felt different. Magic was not typically something good or evil, not any better or worse than the one who wielded it. This event had brought with it a distinctive sense of malevolence. 

They didn't recognize her at first. It would be difficult for anyone to reconcile the damaged creature on the beach with the vibrant mare who had been taken almost a year ago. Weeping red welts latticed her face, neck and shoulders, dozens of thin lacerations each one accompanied by its matching bruise. The pale pink of her primary feathers was almost nonexistent, smooth curves clipped into harsh, flightless angles. She was thin and ragged, a shell of herself. Some things could not be disguised however, and the uneven lengths of her mane and tail still claimed the fiery hues that matched her buckskin son's son well. The faded blue of her coat was also reflected in the glossy sheen found in his brother. 
"Mom...?" Tana spoke first, boyish concern in his voice. Raul could only stand and stare, watching for longer than he felt he should have for a rise. Some sign that she was still breathing. 

Her ribcage shifted at last, a harsh breath expanding her barrel painfully. "Ok, ok, she's breathing, she's alive, right? What do we do? Raul, what do we do now?" The slim palamino colt looked to his brother for any kind of answer. Raul saved that day, that was always how it went. The bulkier brother dropped his nose to their battered dam's shoulder, feeling every bone beneath the canvas of her skin. "Where's Ivar? Maybe he'll know what to do..." a groan pulled from deep within the recumbent mare's chest, and for a moment Raul just knew that it was her death rattle. The next moment though her forelegs struck out, neck arching weakly in an attempt at gaining her feet. "Shhh momma, lay still. We're getting you help." Raul knelt at her head, tossing his head at his brother insistently. The winged boy looked at them for a moment before nodding in understanding, spreading his wings to take to the sky in search of Ivar. He desperately hoped the sea stallion would know what to do. 

@[Ivar]

[Ivar]

As the spring days grow longer, Ivar's ventures away from the island grow shorter and less frequent. Kylin is due any day and her safety is tantamount. The piebald creature is never far from the western island where they - he, Kylin, Kyveli, and the twins - live, and today is no exception. The kelpie knows the currents along the shore, and when he senses an unfamiliar tugging, he surfaces for a better look.

What he sees is far from an explanation, but it most certaintly seems to be the cause: an odd melding of sand and water, whirling above a figure on the beach. Ivar scowls - he has never been fond of magic - but the ever curious Raul is already approaching, and the stallion knows he'll have to intervene lest something befall the colt.

By the time the blue and white creature reaches the shore, the more cautious twin has joined his brother, and the two are inspecting what Ivar now sees is a bleeding Sabra in the sand. He is just behind Santana when the boy turns to take flight, and Ivar shakes his head briefly, a 'you don't have to find me, I'm here', and steps around him to see the fire-haired mare struggling to her feet.

She is nearly unrecognizable, bleeding and bruised. There's no remaining danger that Ivar can see so he does not shoo the boys away, but rather instructs them: "Go 'round to her other side; make sure she doesn't fall." He does the same on her near side, a solid presence to keep her from falling.

"You've seen better days," he tells her mildly, as though she's having nothing more than a bad hair-day. "You'll feel better after a dip in something less salty." There's an inaudible command in his voice, one that might lesson the pain though it will do nothing to mend it. The kelpie has no knowledge of any healing methods but water and time; he at least has the foresight to not direct her back to the sea, where the water would bite at her exposed flesh. Instead, he does his best to lead her farther inland, where a cool spring provides freshwater for the handful of residents.

ooc: sorry this is so late!!
@[Sabra]

[Sabra]

Is it terrible, that for the first few moments of clarity her sons are strangers to her? That the approaching stallion draws a subconscious flinching reaction from her bones, that flight instinct still singing through her too-fast beating heart? Tears prick the backs of her eyes as she stands frozen, invisible roots anchoring her to the gritty sand. Warm solid bodies press up against either side. With some surprise she finds the support necessary, the strength in her own legs untrustworthy. Necessary, and repulsive. 

They touch her, and she feels her skin crawl. A flat laugh creeps up her throat at Ivar's comments, acknowledging his guidance as they begin moving away from the waves. Raul had taken position at her side, his winged brother trailing half a step behind. She was back, and he didn't know how. And at the moment, it felt like she wasn't back at all, just a ghost of the mother he remembered. Her ribs poked into his side, the skin tight to her bones, anemic skin visible through the patchy feathers on her pale wings. Wherever she had been these months gone, it did not seem to be a happy place. His eyes flicked to his brother, then back to the thin mare between he and Ivar. Was she always this small? His shoulder actually reached over hers now... 

Tana felt so helpless. Ivar was here, which was a massive relief. The aquatic stallion was the closest thing the twins knew for a father figure, and the only parent they'd had in recent time. Raul was ready to help, as usual. His bigger frame seemed well suited to assisting their mother to a safer place. The slimmer yearling watched, dancing in place and feeling generally useless. His wings fluttered at his sides and the almost familiar burning sensation took up residence in his chest, the forewarning feeling that told him his nostrils were going to start expelling anxious smoke soon if he didn't get his emotions under control. Sure enough, twin columns of hazey grey began to rise from flaring nares, accompanied by a prickling itch. The sudden sneeze flew out, chased by a shower of sparks. That was new and concerning and oh gods, did anybody see that? He didn't think so, they were getting further ahead and... what was he supposed to do? He almost missed her low voice in his own thoughts. 

"Thank you both. I think I can make it the rest of the way myself." Her tone was as flat as the rest of her, hoarse with disuse. No one had spoken to her in the Elsewhere, and she'd given up trying to make herself heard months ago. Mostly she just did not want to be touched. She could make it if it meant she wasn't being touched. She'd been touched enough, poked and prodded and burned and drugged and... Her eyes glossed unusually bright, unaware of the tears dampening her hollow cheeks. She'd been aware of the bodies around her, it was impossible not to be. Now she really looked at them. Hale and whole they were. Ivar looked much the same, for all they'd only met briefly before her absence. As unpredictable as the waters he called home, the older male gave her a sense of security that had long been missing. 

It was her sons who more clearly displayed just how much time had passed. Though not fully grown, they were well on their way. Kwartz had been near this age when she had last seen him, all legs, with the promise of more solid builds beginning to emerge. They were growing handsome, as she'd known they would. Castile was visible in them both, though more markedly in Raul's lines. Huskier than his brother, the blazing buckskin had the same shape of head, the same sturdy stance. Santana was following his dam more closely, it appeared. He was going to be built for the sky, it looked like. Still dwarfed by his leathery wings, his eyes hadn't left her since they'd begun moving, tendrils of smoke drifting before his  concerned face. Dear gods, had he inherited more of his father than she'd realized? Her gaze drifted back to the kelpie, a worn out sort of gratitude filling in the spaces in her expression. "I owe you much, Ivar. You've done well with them." 

She needed to relearn these strangers. How could it be, that she was destined to be so unfamiliar with her offspring? Their names and faces were one thing to know, but she could not name their personalities, what they loved and loathed. Did they have friends? Did they have a surrogate mother that they loved, as well as father? 

@[Ivar] Here, have a bucket of angst.

[Ivar]

Though the rough scales of Ivar's sides are not especially sensitive, so when he feels the repetitive click, he glances down to find a rather gruesome sight. The bones of Sabra's ribcage jut out sharply, covered only by a thin layer of bruised skin. This time of year, she should be sleek and well-fed, not looking like a walking skeleton. The flat laugh the erupts from her throat at Ivar's attempt at humor is unexpected, but the kelpie supposes that it might be a sign that she is not entirely broken.

Indeed, she wants to stand on her own in short order. For a moment, Ivar can picture the mare that he'd met alongside the river, though he blinks and she is the battered thing in front of him once more. The piebald stallion can see Raul and Santana from the corner of his eye, hovering just far enough away from their mother to satisfy her request.

Sabra compliments his child rearing and he takes another, longer look at them. He'd not done much, truly. Ensuring the island was safe from outsiders, that the water along the shore was free of hungry mouths. Life is not difficult on a tropic isle. Food and water are plentiful, and the days are always long and warm. For the most part, he leaves them to their own devices, knowing from the tracks they leave across the small western island where and how they have been.

"If you'll take them off my hands, I'll consider us even." He replies, having stepped away to give Sabra the space she wanted. He is still close - close enough to catch her - but not so near as to infringe on her movement. A half step behind, he walks with her to the shallow pool. Just large enough to hold a horse lying on their side, the spring is fed from a freshwater aquifer somewhere beneath the ocean's floor. The output of the spring is rather quick, and Ivar isn't worried that Sabra might contaminate their water. For a moment he follows the line of the running water back to the shore with his golden eyes, but soon turns them back to Sabra.

"Would you like to be alone?" The question is asked in a tone more somber than the jesting of moments before. There's no pity in it - Ivar's ability to empathize has always been minimal at best - but there is something almost like concern in his metallic gaze. "The boys and I can stand guard," he offers, uncertain how she might react. There is no telling what she has been subjected to, but Ivar knows the value of having someone to watch when he is unable. Raul and Santana are almost old enough to stand guard alone, but with that age often comes the need to strike out on one's own. Ivar had done much the same when he was not much older than the twins. "Or I could leave the three of you, if you'd prefer that."

[Sabra]

They make their way to the pool Ivar had indicated, the trio off stallions making their strides shorter to accommodate her stiff slowness. The hint had been taken and she soon found herself supporting her own weight, though they kept a close proximity. That was fine. That she could live with. It's strange, that they are almost making small talk as they go, she and Ivar at a pace, with the boys following close behind. She did not miss the brief hurt expression Raul had displayed at her request. He was a sweet one, then, not made hard by the absence of parents. They both were, if she was reading them correctly. 

Ivar responds with similar tones as the pool becomes visible, half hidden by ferns and other verdant plants. "I'll do that. But I think we will not be even for quite a while yet..." she was not a good mother, she was coming to realize. Her sons had developed a dreadful trend of doing much of their growing away from her. It hurt, that she had failed at something she had wanted to succeed at so badly. But she is not here to be pitied or mourned. At the moment, she wants water, and sleep, and perhaps a touch of amnesia. Elsewhere was cruel. Her face bent to touch the surface of the water, its coolness a pleasant shock to her anxiety ridden system. 

More words, and they are directed at her, but it is her sons who respond instead. Maybe once that would have irked her, but today there is simply no spare energy in her frame to handle decision making. The bedraggled mare knows when she is beaten. 
"Kylin needs you, Uncle. We'll be okay here, right Raul?" Surprisingly it was Santana who took charge, though Raul was quick to nod his own assent to the suggestion. It had been a long time. They needed to reintroduce themselves to their mother. 

@[Ivar]