[private] of his bones are coral made

[Oceane]

O C E A N E

Hath in her veins,
to beat and run,
the glad indomitable sea,
the strong white sun.

There's a predatory ferocity that lies in the depths of Sochi's eyes that remains, simmering, even when a brief moment of surprise flashes over her blue-blaze face. But she waits, holding her tongue against the inside of her blunted teeth expectantly, and watches uneasily as the other woman's analytic, silver-flecked eyes venture beyond her shoulder and to the swell of her belly. Oceane wants nothing more than to hide the proof of her night with the Loessian King beneath the lush blanket of balefire feathers that sprout from her shoulders, but she is a week or two beyond popping and there is no hope for discretion today.

Sochi finally breaks the silence and Oceane smiles apologetically. It is met with one absent of warmth and kindness when the smoky black mare questions her (stranger, she says, and it reminds Oceane of how large this chasm is between them), and while Loess' Scholar understands this abrasiveness, she knows she is about to make it much worse, to inflict damage ─ and that, alone, draws hot acid into her belly. A sharp pang causes a quick intake of breath through gritted teeth, but Oceane otherwise ignores it and clears her throat before answering Sochi's question.

"Lepis," she says, dry-mouthed, and upon realizing that she's only given half an explanation, continues, "I asked Lepis what you looked like because I wan─ I needed to speak to you."

Pressure grows inside her ─ not painful at first, but noticeable nonetheless. She ignores it, brushing it off as a discomfort with conflict, and tries to find the right words to say. And, additionally, the right way to say them. "My name is Oceane," she starts, and does not insult Sochi by telling her where she lives or how long she has been there; the scents of Loess cling to her much in the same way sweat clings after a long run, "And I needed you to know that the─"

The pressure gives way to pain, making Oceane's long legs quiver and nearly forcing her to her knees. Wide-eyed, she swings her head around and nips instinctively at her swollen belly, and in that moment she realizes. All of her time spent finding a safe place to give birth inside of Loess had been for naught. All of her intent to remain within her foothills home until she'd brought her son into the world... it didn't matter now.

And, what is worse, are Ilma's prophetic words that resound in Oceane's memory as another wave of pain courses through her body:

Careful. They won’t want to see him. His existence will upset her.

She thinks immediately of her sons from Nau-Aib, the ones taken from her just as soon as she'd birthed them, and her body is suddenly awash in cold panic as her pained amber eyes meet Sochi's silvered ones. Her front legs give out and the winged woman falls to her knees in the dirt beneath the willow and prepares herself to give birth to the son of Castile, and all the while her panicked brain cannot help but think about how she will die here protecting him if she needs to.

She will not lose another son.



@[sochi]
""

neamrel / thedayofshadow