"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
05-13-2016, 02:42 PM (This post was last modified: 05-13-2016, 02:42 PM by Kerowyn.)
and the light of a fading star is what you were, is what you are
The relief of a single child after carrying twins permeates her entire pregnancy. Her body expands, but the weight of this one is fraction of her first two; her body and soul seem to float, whereas last year it seemed as if there were magnets in her hooves. Kerowyn found some comfort with this one’s father, which was enough for the time being. They both knew he wasn’t the staying type, and she was still too skittish to completely trust anyone. She was lonely. He seemed sad. He was kind to Tamora and Marigny, and in the end she thought a sibling for them would be nice. Someone to tie her to Tarnished. Someone to remember that oh-so-very-welcome bit of kindness.
His birth is easier, too. The girls keep watch while he sleeps easily from her body and into the bright, big world. They are naturally curious, but are sweet enough to give her a few hours alone with him. His dark coat dries to a deep blue color, and as her glacier colored eyes devour every inch of his little body, a name comes to mind. “Hello, darling,” she whispers to him when his eyes can finally focus on her. Kerowyn rises and urges him to do the same, gently prodding him up and onto spindly legs with a softest of touches from her velvet-soft nose. “Up you go, Torrid.” Kerowyn smiles as he wobbles, falls, and then tries again, this time with success. It seems the name fits.
Perhaps the worst part of her life is over. In this moment, there is nothing more she could ask for.
She stood alongside her twin during her new brother’s birth. Something strange was happening to their mother, and it was comforting having Tamora there. She had begun noticing changes in their mother a few months prior… primarily that their mother’s lovely girlish figure had begun to balloon. She had wanted to discuss it with her sister, but hadn’t been sure the appropriate avenue to comment on their mother’s weight gain.
Maybe she should have. It seemed like her mother was about to explode from being so large. Maybe the two of them could have saved her before she arrived at this state. “Do you know what’s goin’ on?” she quietly whispered to her sister while continuing to stare at their mother. “Should we do something?”
Before long, a small figure slips from their mother’s rear. Marigny’s small ears prick and her nostrils flare in shock. But she turns to her sister and grins, satisfied with her newly gathered knowledge: So THAT’s how new horses get made… you just eat a lot, grow extremely fat, and wait to pop! She must remember to try that someday. Her mother seemed occupied with the new one though, so Marigny reached out to bump her twin into a game of tag instead. Like a good daughter, she’d occupy herself until she and Tamora were beckoned to formally meet their new brother.
They are sheltered - some might call it naive, but Tamora understands it as love. Marigny and her Mama are all she needs right now. There is a stallion that comes and goes, and Mama seems fond of him, but Tamora is… skeptical. No, skeptical isn’t the word for it. Aloof. Indifferent. Polite. She’d rather keep out of the way with Marigny and play and practice their powers than hang out with Mama and her friend. He has - had? - a name. Tamora isn’t sure it’s worth remembering.
In the end, she’s right, because the stallion leaves them, and Mama seems to overcompensate for her feelings by eating. Tamora exchanges glances with her sister every now and then as she balloons outward, and while her twin might be more ‘worried’ about their mother’s state of being, Tamora is more disdainful. They were a very fetching trio; especially her twin, with her lovely wings, Mama’s slim body and beautiful eyes, and Tamora’s silken tongue. Two bays and a chestnut. Lithe and lovely.
Mama distances herself and seems to be rather uncomfortable, but makes no move to ask them to get help, so Tamora can only assume that she is ok. Her head shakes back and forth a couple of times, saying simply, “She’d tell us if she needed something.” But her eyes remain glued to her Mama from a distance, and when Torrid is birthed, she shares a knowing glance with Marigny. Huh. Go figure! Well now that the mystery is solved, Tamora isn’t as interested, and a game of tag sounds much more exciting. Her twin tags her, and she spends a couple of minutes running around with her before their Mama’s voice comes drifting towards them.
“Marigny, Tamora. Come meet your new brother…”
And just like that, they were four. But Tamora would always like Marigny best.
