09-10-2021, 02:58 PM
His muzzle touches her shoulder and she shudders at the touch, relief flowing through her as he comforts her. She knows nothing of her sire’s past, that he had experienced something similar to him, but at least she had been an adult when it happened to her. Cress and Dawn had lived very separate lives, only reuniting once every few months to swap stories and to talk about their children - Dawn has a younger brother that she knows of, who gave up his life to keep their mother alive, and Dawn has a smattering of children herself, all sired by men that she has loved differently over the years. Litotes, Clayton, Rhaegor; all three of them had been different forms of love, the purest of all finding her when Rhaegor found her after Cress’s death.
She has more children than just those borne of her body as well - Oriash and Ghaul, though the latter had burned too close to the sun. He had been like his father but multiplied tenfold, unknowingly cruel and ambitious, and had bitten off more than he could chew in the end. His life had been short but brutal, and it is often that Dawn wonders: if she had been more present in his youth, other than teaching him to hunt and keeping him fed and loved, would she have been able to curb some of his behavior?
Ledger brushes a few strands of her forelock out of her eyes and she meets his gaze gratefully, some of the pain melting away as he speaks of her mother. “Thank you,” she murmurs. She knows deep down that it wasn’t her fault, but maybe if she had been there… things would’ve been different.
He tells her that she looks like his mother as their conversation progresses, but then freezes as she mentions ice, and she watches him with curiosity. He tells her that she is strong and she can feel the tears welling up again but keeps a tight rein on them this time, a small smile stretching across her lips. “I’ve never had a father before,” she muses, quiet contentment flooding her veins. He asks her if she is a shifter and she doesn’t hesitate before answering: “I was, until they stripped the magic from my veins.”
She doesn’t mention how animalistic the shifting had made her, how any bit of anxiety had her digging claws into the ground. She doesn’t tell him how many times she has lost herself in the thrill of the hunt, or how when she is angry she loses herself to the bear entirely. Life has been strange without her shifting, and she honestly isn’t sure if she even misses that part of her.
“You have grandchildren, you know,” she tells him after a beat, smiling broadly as she thinks of each one of them. “Seven of them.”
@Ledger
She has more children than just those borne of her body as well - Oriash and Ghaul, though the latter had burned too close to the sun. He had been like his father but multiplied tenfold, unknowingly cruel and ambitious, and had bitten off more than he could chew in the end. His life had been short but brutal, and it is often that Dawn wonders: if she had been more present in his youth, other than teaching him to hunt and keeping him fed and loved, would she have been able to curb some of his behavior?
Ledger brushes a few strands of her forelock out of her eyes and she meets his gaze gratefully, some of the pain melting away as he speaks of her mother. “Thank you,” she murmurs. She knows deep down that it wasn’t her fault, but maybe if she had been there… things would’ve been different.
He tells her that she looks like his mother as their conversation progresses, but then freezes as she mentions ice, and she watches him with curiosity. He tells her that she is strong and she can feel the tears welling up again but keeps a tight rein on them this time, a small smile stretching across her lips. “I’ve never had a father before,” she muses, quiet contentment flooding her veins. He asks her if she is a shifter and she doesn’t hesitate before answering: “I was, until they stripped the magic from my veins.”
She doesn’t mention how animalistic the shifting had made her, how any bit of anxiety had her digging claws into the ground. She doesn’t tell him how many times she has lost herself in the thrill of the hunt, or how when she is angry she loses herself to the bear entirely. Life has been strange without her shifting, and she honestly isn’t sure if she even misses that part of her.
“You have grandchildren, you know,” she tells him after a beat, smiling broadly as she thinks of each one of them. “Seven of them.”
@Ledger