V A K A R I A N
i'd rather be a riot than indifferent
She is so DONE with being pregnant.
The whole thing really hadn’t seemed so bad when other mares had talked about it, when her mother had talked about it. They’d reminisced in loving terms about the feeling of life growing inside them, of the joyful anticipation that comes as the due date nears …
And poor Vakarian just feels like a whale.
A horrendously fat whale.
Her belly has grown exponentially over the past few months, to the point where taking a trip anywhere is pretty much out of the question.
She’s been spending her days waddling about the Golden Plains, moving mostly between the stream and her favourite resting place. Her poor ankles aren’t fit for much else. She’s starting to get a little stir crazy too. It’s not that she particularly wants to leave the plains, it would just be nice to have the option every once in a while.
So, when the labour pains finally hit, she nearly shouts in relief. She represses it though, not wanting to startle the others, and waddles off as quickly as she can to the little grassy hollow in which she often rests.
The process itself is startlingly quick, and in under an hour, not one, but TWO little damp bundles lie in the golden grass at her side. “Oh.” She says as she hoists herself to her feet, and looks down on them in obvious surprise. Twins. “No wonder I’ve gotten so fat.”
She takes a few steps towards them and begins to clean off the mess of birth, making note of few important details. One being that one’s a boy (the bay) and the other’s a girl (the black), and that there appears to be a distinct lack of tail sticking out of the boy's butt. Oh dear. Something catches the light and Vakarian peers in closer, eyes widening when she realizes that one of the girl’s hooves appears to be made of shimmering diamond. “Oh hell.” Vakarian snorts as the diamond flashes, then turns into an ordinary, dark hoof. “Someone takes after me …” Hopefully in traits only. She doesn’t want a mini-me running around.
The wind changes, bringing with it the scent of the other horses of the herd, and Vakarian gives a brief start. Right, she should probably let Phaedrus know. She lets a low call out for the stallion, knowing that he’s likely somewhere nearby. The stallion hasn’t been travelling too far a field lately, what with all the pregnant mares in his herd. She has to wonder what he’ll think of adding another two little beasties to their family …
The whole thing really hadn’t seemed so bad when other mares had talked about it, when her mother had talked about it. They’d reminisced in loving terms about the feeling of life growing inside them, of the joyful anticipation that comes as the due date nears …
And poor Vakarian just feels like a whale.
A horrendously fat whale.
Her belly has grown exponentially over the past few months, to the point where taking a trip anywhere is pretty much out of the question.
She’s been spending her days waddling about the Golden Plains, moving mostly between the stream and her favourite resting place. Her poor ankles aren’t fit for much else. She’s starting to get a little stir crazy too. It’s not that she particularly wants to leave the plains, it would just be nice to have the option every once in a while.
So, when the labour pains finally hit, she nearly shouts in relief. She represses it though, not wanting to startle the others, and waddles off as quickly as she can to the little grassy hollow in which she often rests.
The process itself is startlingly quick, and in under an hour, not one, but TWO little damp bundles lie in the golden grass at her side. “Oh.” She says as she hoists herself to her feet, and looks down on them in obvious surprise. Twins. “No wonder I’ve gotten so fat.”
She takes a few steps towards them and begins to clean off the mess of birth, making note of few important details. One being that one’s a boy (the bay) and the other’s a girl (the black), and that there appears to be a distinct lack of tail sticking out of the boy's butt. Oh dear. Something catches the light and Vakarian peers in closer, eyes widening when she realizes that one of the girl’s hooves appears to be made of shimmering diamond. “Oh hell.” Vakarian snorts as the diamond flashes, then turns into an ordinary, dark hoof. “Someone takes after me …” Hopefully in traits only. She doesn’t want a mini-me running around.
The wind changes, bringing with it the scent of the other horses of the herd, and Vakarian gives a brief start. Right, she should probably let Phaedrus know. She lets a low call out for the stallion, knowing that he’s likely somewhere nearby. The stallion hasn’t been travelling too far a field lately, what with all the pregnant mares in his herd. She has to wonder what he’ll think of adding another two little beasties to their family …
Hey Tiny! I'll still post to the other thread, but I just wanted to get this up so we could get started with the twins.
