('Let’s pretend, okay?’ a little blonde girl had once asked and Lilli agreed. Of course, she agreed. She is much very like her father that way. It had all started out as a game; their own version of hide and seek. Here I am!, a smile would say, and here I hide.)
Funny, how the years change things.
And funny how they don't.
It’s such an odd thought and it only occurs to her now when the salt-air is tangling her copper mane.
There had been a time - a time before Taiga and her fog, before Nerine and her imposing ledges - that she hadn’t seen the ocean. She remembers asking and wondering and dreaming about what an endless expanse of water could look like. She had known her laughing creeks, her trickling streams. That there could be a meeting place - a place where the Moon and Sea might embrace like lovers and then break their own hearts by coming apart - had amazed her.
She loves Taiga for the trees that reach for the stars; she stays for the Sea that churns out to worlds unknown.
Or she thought she had known love.
From where she stands, a whole new world is encompassed by the two little boys in the surf. There is Magic in this. In watching the two flaxen colts experience new things, in taking them new places. She has seen the Ocean many times now - in Nerine, in Taiga, and in Ischia. But like this? Through the eyes of her children? Never like this. It gives the chestnut a whole new way of seeing.
The tropical sun dapples her skin and eases her mind (though she is still plagued by dreams, still lingering remembrances of something Elena once said: that happiness and hurt look the same when buried beneath layers of smiles). The surf engages her boys and each day they grow a little stronger, a little more fearless of the waves and bolder in the presence of the surf. It’s how they play so easily in it today.
It’s her name on the sea breeze that draws her attention away from the rambunctious pair. The motherly smile on her face turns into a grin, pleased to finally spot the lovely Ischian (are there any horses in this tropical paradise who are not as beautiful - if not more so - than their alluring island home?). "Aquaria,” the copper mare exhales, dipping her head in greeting before turning her cheek into the warmth of her breath.
She smelled of the flourishing jungle behind them, of secret pools of water and of the lovely fragrant flowers that Velkan loved to adorn his antlers with.
Lilliana leans into her touch and returns the gesture, placing a kiss of her own on the curve of her cheek. "Forget about you? About this place?” Her head gestures around them, "I’m surprised anybody ever leaves.” It was hard for her to even imagine the diplomats wanting to leave their island utopia.
”A friendly visit,” she teases. "But if you have news, I don’t mind a little bit of both.”
Her eyes glance anxiously out at the crashing waves again before she calls: "Remember the undertow!” The trio had scouted it out the days before and the twins were only allowed so far, in certain places to avoid it. She watches - waits - before they race down the beach, coming closer to the shore than they had previously been. Lilliana snorts gently before turning her attention back to the champagne mare with a light-hearted grin, "Colts.”
It falls away easily though, Aquaria’s question cutting through her as easily as the Handmaiden must slip through the waves.
Her attention drifts away, watching the two distant figures dancing in the waves further along the beach. Her expression turns apprehensive, almost as if she was afraid that they might hear. (Of course, they can’t. She knows this and yet the words themselves are still so hard to say.)
”It’s-,” she starts as her heart recounts every beat, "a long story.”
"Or perhaps,” Lilliana says with faltering grace, "not that long. A foolish mare. A handsome face.” Shaking her head, she pushes away memories of tentacled monsters and masked smiles. She came to Ischia to forget, not remember. But it’s never been that easy. She knows better than that.
Wistfully staring down the beach again, she poises a question. (Remembering those games from before, needing the familiarity it provides - a crutch and a vice both), "If you could pretend just one thing - anything at all @[Aquaria] - what would it be?”
Funny, how the years change things.
And funny how they don't.
It’s such an odd thought and it only occurs to her now when the salt-air is tangling her copper mane.
There had been a time - a time before Taiga and her fog, before Nerine and her imposing ledges - that she hadn’t seen the ocean. She remembers asking and wondering and dreaming about what an endless expanse of water could look like. She had known her laughing creeks, her trickling streams. That there could be a meeting place - a place where the Moon and Sea might embrace like lovers and then break their own hearts by coming apart - had amazed her.
She loves Taiga for the trees that reach for the stars; she stays for the Sea that churns out to worlds unknown.
Or she thought she had known love.
From where she stands, a whole new world is encompassed by the two little boys in the surf. There is Magic in this. In watching the two flaxen colts experience new things, in taking them new places. She has seen the Ocean many times now - in Nerine, in Taiga, and in Ischia. But like this? Through the eyes of her children? Never like this. It gives the chestnut a whole new way of seeing.
The tropical sun dapples her skin and eases her mind (though she is still plagued by dreams, still lingering remembrances of something Elena once said: that happiness and hurt look the same when buried beneath layers of smiles). The surf engages her boys and each day they grow a little stronger, a little more fearless of the waves and bolder in the presence of the surf. It’s how they play so easily in it today.
It’s her name on the sea breeze that draws her attention away from the rambunctious pair. The motherly smile on her face turns into a grin, pleased to finally spot the lovely Ischian (are there any horses in this tropical paradise who are not as beautiful - if not more so - than their alluring island home?). "Aquaria,” the copper mare exhales, dipping her head in greeting before turning her cheek into the warmth of her breath.
She smelled of the flourishing jungle behind them, of secret pools of water and of the lovely fragrant flowers that Velkan loved to adorn his antlers with.
Lilliana leans into her touch and returns the gesture, placing a kiss of her own on the curve of her cheek. "Forget about you? About this place?” Her head gestures around them, "I’m surprised anybody ever leaves.” It was hard for her to even imagine the diplomats wanting to leave their island utopia.
”A friendly visit,” she teases. "But if you have news, I don’t mind a little bit of both.”
Her eyes glance anxiously out at the crashing waves again before she calls: "Remember the undertow!” The trio had scouted it out the days before and the twins were only allowed so far, in certain places to avoid it. She watches - waits - before they race down the beach, coming closer to the shore than they had previously been. Lilliana snorts gently before turning her attention back to the champagne mare with a light-hearted grin, "Colts.”
It falls away easily though, Aquaria’s question cutting through her as easily as the Handmaiden must slip through the waves.
Her attention drifts away, watching the two distant figures dancing in the waves further along the beach. Her expression turns apprehensive, almost as if she was afraid that they might hear. (Of course, they can’t. She knows this and yet the words themselves are still so hard to say.)
”It’s-,” she starts as her heart recounts every beat, "a long story.”
"Or perhaps,” Lilliana says with faltering grace, "not that long. A foolish mare. A handsome face.” Shaking her head, she pushes away memories of tentacled monsters and masked smiles. She came to Ischia to forget, not remember. But it’s never been that easy. She knows better than that.
Wistfully staring down the beach again, she poises a question. (Remembering those games from before, needing the familiarity it provides - a crutch and a vice both), "If you could pretend just one thing - anything at all @[Aquaria] - what would it be?”
LILLIANA
all that i'm after is a life full of laughter
(as long as i'm laughing with you)
this is weird and all over the place and i'm sorry
but it's all in the past, love
it's all gone with the wind