02-08-2016, 02:51 PM
it is not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves
Fiero had fallen, rather unknowingly, into fatherhood. He had planted the seed, but Vineine had given the life. She had grown the child with her own body, her own soul, all while Fiero whiled away his time without a clue. Perhaps it shouldn’t bother him that Trystane had grown up without his knowing. More often than not, the sires of Beqanna had little care for their progeny. Boys grew to be men none the wiser of who their fathers were (or even their mothers). Yet, Fiero isn’t bitter - not about that. He wonders whether being apart of Trystane’s early life would have done his son any good in the first place. This is what bothers him the most.
But, here is Vineine, all dressed in dawn, harmonious in her very existence here within the woodland.
He knows he cannot tame her. He knows that she is free - that she is not his. He wants her. He wants to make her stay, but he cannot. And she is oblivious. She is oblivious to the longing the steals the light from his eyes when she goes. Still, he cannot help the hope that surges through him when his eyes fall upon her after years of separation.
He is desperate. He is foolish. He is weak.
He cannot make her stay with him, but he will try. At least for a little while.
She flounders in her response, and Fiero’s chest wrenches painfully. He reaches out to touch her cheek with his nose: a soft, reassuring caress.
“You don’t owe me an explanation, Vineine.” He says gently, pulling away to look into her eyes, yearning for her to look at him. When she does, he smiles with a mixture of happy sadness. “We met in the Meadow. My father was there as well.” he ponders the situation for a moment. “Fate is a funny thing.”
She tells him that there are still things left to teach their son, and tears rise up to rim his eyes but do not fall. “I’ll be there for him.” he says, despite his worries of worthiness. He must be strong again, he knows, but not yet. Vineine steals away that bravado and leaves him naked and exposed. He cannot lie to her - not with words nor with body.
He wants to tell her that he has missed her. He wants to bring her back to the Gates with him - to make a family. He wants her to be his, but he knows that she belongs only to herself and the wilds. Instead, he reaches out to touch her withers, much the same way that he had before when their hearts were young.
But, here is Vineine, all dressed in dawn, harmonious in her very existence here within the woodland.
He knows he cannot tame her. He knows that she is free - that she is not his. He wants her. He wants to make her stay, but he cannot. And she is oblivious. She is oblivious to the longing the steals the light from his eyes when she goes. Still, he cannot help the hope that surges through him when his eyes fall upon her after years of separation.
He is desperate. He is foolish. He is weak.
He cannot make her stay with him, but he will try. At least for a little while.
She flounders in her response, and Fiero’s chest wrenches painfully. He reaches out to touch her cheek with his nose: a soft, reassuring caress.
“You don’t owe me an explanation, Vineine.” He says gently, pulling away to look into her eyes, yearning for her to look at him. When she does, he smiles with a mixture of happy sadness. “We met in the Meadow. My father was there as well.” he ponders the situation for a moment. “Fate is a funny thing.”
She tells him that there are still things left to teach their son, and tears rise up to rim his eyes but do not fall. “I’ll be there for him.” he says, despite his worries of worthiness. He must be strong again, he knows, but not yet. Vineine steals away that bravado and leaves him naked and exposed. He cannot lie to her - not with words nor with body.
He wants to tell her that he has missed her. He wants to bring her back to the Gates with him - to make a family. He wants her to be his, but he knows that she belongs only to herself and the wilds. Instead, he reaches out to touch her withers, much the same way that he had before when their hearts were young.