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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "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


    [private]  what does the future hold, that's the story left unknown
    #1

    There is not much consciousness flowing through her little mind yet, but she is vaguely aware of the squeezing sensation that slowly works its way down her body. It is not uncomfortable, in fact, it lulls her need to kick and stretch her long limbs. The process seems to drag on for an eternity, but she eventually slides over a solid surface, though her hind end lands with a soft thud. She lays quietly for a minute or so before she stretches once more, finding the motion to be far more expansive and satisfying than it had been before. Her head lifts at the same time and all at once, a host of strange new sensations overcome her as her movements tear an opening in the thick membrane that envelops her.

    She takes her first breath and it awakens her sense of smell with the variety of rich, unfamiliar scents. As she becomes mindful of a heavier, more labored sound, her lids flutter open to reveal the storm cloud hue of her bewildered eyes. She wobbles in place, a sign of her body adjusting to the things it must change to operate properly in this new environment. She turns her head unsteadily and notices the large figure beside her, still prone with the exhaustion that giving birth tends to bring. The child stares, not quite understanding what is happening, but she feels compelled to move closer to this creature.

    Her forelegs legs thrash wildly, not a true attempt to stand, but at least an effort to push herself toward the figure. She can feel the warmth that radiates from the body and, as she becomes more aware of the cold that has begun creeping over her own wet body, it entices her to try even harder. The membrane slips from her head and falls to her shoulders as she eventually heaves herself close enough that Tirza might reach out when her strength is replenished. Somewhat content with her nearness, the newborn peers at her mother once more, a touch of curiosity, but mostly a spark of expectancy lighting her eyes as she waits to see what will happen next.

    tear

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    @Tirza (and @Tumult if you wanna jump in!)
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    #2
    This is such a strange reality for Tirza that she barely even believes that it is real. Surely this is a dream, the fact that she is continuing her bloodline. That a little piece of her parents are going to exist in another victim now, a fourth one. It had never been a desire of hers, to be a mother. Not even in an effort to overwrite the beginnings she has begun to feel fade with time and distance.

    Even now, this was all a mistake. Not quite an accident - she knew exactly what events had tipped the dominoes in this direction - but a surprising lack of forethought had certainly led to this moment.

    The birth of her daughter.

    She does not allow herself a moment’s peace, does not lie there for longer than she has to or take any more calming breaths than required. Whatever events had led her here, she was a mother now. Nothing would undo that.

    Tirza stands, she is thankful for nature and the instincts that it provides her when nurture gave her so very little. But not her daughter. Not this dark purple filly, a relief that it is her current colour - the reborn colour - that is on display instead of what once was. Hints of her father are already visible and this does not fill Tirza with dread. They will meet, she is sure, and he will be given a chance to be involved.

    For now it is just them, a soft orange-pink glow lighting up the small face she peers down to and whispers in her rough voice, attempting to soften it in a way she has never tried to before. “Little Tear.”

    And although she doesn’t quite mean it yet - because how could she? They had only just barely met? - she feels it is important that it is one of the first things the filly hears in her life. “I love you.”

    tirza


    @tear
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