01-15-2016, 05:39 PM
***She is a softer sort. Of that there is no doubt.
***It is written in the quiet browns of her eyes.
***Drawn in iron resolve across the queen’s armoured flesh.
***She is much like her birth-mother that way. Left looking on in awe at the sisters bent to a warrior form. Because she is not made for that–fashioned from some of that stuff, maybe; Prague’s steel must temper the pacifism somewhere in the angles of her bones. She is small, and though sturdy and wild looking, Vineine has never found the flex in her muscles called for hardness. They were inclined to wander and to discover; to copulate and to birth.
***She is a bleeding-heart. No stranger to love, and no stranger to losing love. She had never stopped to wonder if Marley or Fiero were strong, not in their quiet and intimate moments or in their coition. She didn't need them to be, not there. She had played the single caregiver, nurturer and protector to her two previous children... Longear could be different. Should be different. She owed that to Fiero.
***But for now she touches the new, unsteady flesh of her filly and she fills full with the warmth of motherhood.
***She is a softer sort, but then, when Lagertha moves towards them, she feels compelled to bite out towards her without even looking to see who it is. In many ways Vineine is still dictated by the laws and customs of the hinterlands. There, she would ward off anyone from her young this soon. She is no stranger to having to protect her babes. It is against the grain that she has brought her into the fold. She looks at the dark grey queen and smiles back. Pride, and some exhaustion, on the quirk of her lips. But it twitches a bit. She is shaken, by the strangeness of it all. Fearful that the girl might return to that vulnerable second soul at any moment. The Mother has given the rosy mare a trying task.
***“Lagertha,” she inhales and takes a small side step away from the girl, to coax her from her side for a better introduction. The buckskin girl stays close, her large eyes glancing at the queen for a second, but seem yet too busy to maintain much focus. This is a much wider world than the confines of her mother's gently swaying abdomen. “Longear.” She smiles, an odd name, she knows. In time, it will need no explanation.
***That is, assuming her unusual birth was not just an isolated incident.
***The very nature of her daughter is uncharted territory for Vineine. “The newest sister.” For now. For as long as she chooses. If she can be convinced of this place, maybe for life. But, how could she not be? Very few places can match the grandeur of the jungle.
*magic-borne daughter of Prague and Elladora
****‘...Herself in the Heavens, her beam on the waves.’
- amazonian and mother -
***It is written in the quiet browns of her eyes.
***Drawn in iron resolve across the queen’s armoured flesh.
***She is much like her birth-mother that way. Left looking on in awe at the sisters bent to a warrior form. Because she is not made for that–fashioned from some of that stuff, maybe; Prague’s steel must temper the pacifism somewhere in the angles of her bones. She is small, and though sturdy and wild looking, Vineine has never found the flex in her muscles called for hardness. They were inclined to wander and to discover; to copulate and to birth.
***She is a bleeding-heart. No stranger to love, and no stranger to losing love. She had never stopped to wonder if Marley or Fiero were strong, not in their quiet and intimate moments or in their coition. She didn't need them to be, not there. She had played the single caregiver, nurturer and protector to her two previous children... Longear could be different. Should be different. She owed that to Fiero.
***But for now she touches the new, unsteady flesh of her filly and she fills full with the warmth of motherhood.
***She is a softer sort, but then, when Lagertha moves towards them, she feels compelled to bite out towards her without even looking to see who it is. In many ways Vineine is still dictated by the laws and customs of the hinterlands. There, she would ward off anyone from her young this soon. She is no stranger to having to protect her babes. It is against the grain that she has brought her into the fold. She looks at the dark grey queen and smiles back. Pride, and some exhaustion, on the quirk of her lips. But it twitches a bit. She is shaken, by the strangeness of it all. Fearful that the girl might return to that vulnerable second soul at any moment. The Mother has given the rosy mare a trying task.
***“Lagertha,” she inhales and takes a small side step away from the girl, to coax her from her side for a better introduction. The buckskin girl stays close, her large eyes glancing at the queen for a second, but seem yet too busy to maintain much focus. This is a much wider world than the confines of her mother's gently swaying abdomen. “Longear.” She smiles, an odd name, she knows. In time, it will need no explanation.
***That is, assuming her unusual birth was not just an isolated incident.
***The very nature of her daughter is uncharted territory for Vineine. “The newest sister.” For now. For as long as she chooses. If she can be convinced of this place, maybe for life. But, how could she not be? Very few places can match the grandeur of the jungle.
****‘...Herself in the Heavens, her beam on the waves.’
- amazonian and mother -