06-30-2021, 09:37 PM
Cirilla had once thought herself blessed to have the family that she was given - a mother who doted on her, a father who called her perfect, and plenty of siblings to play with and get into trouble with. Everything should have been perfect - was perfect, so she thought, until the day that Gar had broken in front of them, explaining Father’s cruelty and showing them the wounds that he had inflicted upon his firstborn son. That had torn the ground out from under Cirilla’s hooves that day, and since then absolutely nothing had been the same.
Fleeing to Nerine had been a mistake, because Gar had never met them there. There, she had been separated from Tarte and even her mother for a time, who had joined them once she had discovered the cruelty that he had hidden even from the angel-mare. Asphyxea had never really understood what had driven Cirilla to leave, and Virgil had been too young to be anything but loyal to their father. It had broken her, to be separated from everyone that she had ever loved, and by the time she returned home, it had been too late.
Ghaul was dead.
She had always talked about having a family as a child, because in her childhood, so briefly, her family had been the perfect thing. But after Ghaul’s death… everything had changed. She had withdrawn from everyone, from everything. She had wanted to befriend her young half-brother, Sepulcher, but instead she had found herself pulling away from everything that had once mattered so dearly to her.
So when she found Tarte again, and life had fallen into place, even though the words had blurted from her lips she hadn’t believed in them until the day she felt the twins first stirring in her womb. And since then, the rest is history.
All that matters is the here and now, and that here and now is her wife and their children.
Cirilla trembles when Tarte’s nose brushes against her scars, but it is not trepidation that fills her mind as it once had. Instead, it is contentment. Her wife had shown her how to be comfortable in her own skin, scars and all, and Cirilla is at peace with the flames that she had once bathed in. Playfully she nips at her lover’s mane and giggles as she races away, her hooves carrying her over the familiar path to the waves. When her feet touch the water, she feels free.
@Tarte
Fleeing to Nerine had been a mistake, because Gar had never met them there. There, she had been separated from Tarte and even her mother for a time, who had joined them once she had discovered the cruelty that he had hidden even from the angel-mare. Asphyxea had never really understood what had driven Cirilla to leave, and Virgil had been too young to be anything but loyal to their father. It had broken her, to be separated from everyone that she had ever loved, and by the time she returned home, it had been too late.
Ghaul was dead.
She had always talked about having a family as a child, because in her childhood, so briefly, her family had been the perfect thing. But after Ghaul’s death… everything had changed. She had withdrawn from everyone, from everything. She had wanted to befriend her young half-brother, Sepulcher, but instead she had found herself pulling away from everything that had once mattered so dearly to her.
So when she found Tarte again, and life had fallen into place, even though the words had blurted from her lips she hadn’t believed in them until the day she felt the twins first stirring in her womb. And since then, the rest is history.
All that matters is the here and now, and that here and now is her wife and their children.
Cirilla trembles when Tarte’s nose brushes against her scars, but it is not trepidation that fills her mind as it once had. Instead, it is contentment. Her wife had shown her how to be comfortable in her own skin, scars and all, and Cirilla is at peace with the flames that she had once bathed in. Playfully she nips at her lover’s mane and giggles as she races away, her hooves carrying her over the familiar path to the waves. When her feet touch the water, she feels free.
@Tarte