05-05-2016, 02:54 AM
Dacia
Jamie x Astri
Was this what her mother had seen when Pollock turned her eyes into their own sockets? Her daughter: flesh of her flesh imbued with ancient history and gifted with a talent so useful in a world like this, twisted by the pain that another has inflicted upon her. Was this fear (the fear of everything suddenly seeming to cling to a gossamer thread) the same fear that had washed across her mother like Poseidon's fury? It feels like it. Arthas is there. She knows this. In her panic she can sense him move against her, breathing unsteadily while drenched in his own sort of terror. “Poor man … “ She thinks, but she cannot speak; only groan with uncertain agony.
There was someone missing. Someone who’d been present at Dacia’s own birth. Her eyes flicker around as she kneels unsteadily, the smell of the thick pines invading her nostrils while sweat begins to gather beneath her mane. Her skin instinctively changes, fading slowly in and out with her laboured breathing. “My brother ... “ She thinks, “Where is he?” The olive green mare turns her head, but finds only Killdare, face unreadable though his voice seems concerned. The fear only multiplies. “Don’t leave me, Arthas.” She says aloud, shocked by her own declaration.
Killdare frightened her more now than he ever had before. That look … it drove her mad. With a broken groan she eases to her side, bringing one life, shortly followed by another. As soon as it begins, it ends, and the draining worry that had clouded her mind since her King had arrived now settles. She’s slow to rise, unsteady but eager to turn back and clear the debris. One foal is blinking softly, molten bronze coat drying out while forest-green tipped ears wiggle freely. The other foal is trying out his legs, bright mane shockingly bold on a black body. There, almost invisible, are slick, clear bat wings, folded neatly onto his sides. With a shaky laugh the new mother stands before them, glancing once to their father and then, to Arthas. “I think Hellbane for the bay and that perhaps you’d like to choose the other, Killdare.” She says, feeling that uncertain ache creep steadily into her heart.
She wants to ask him what’s wrong. Wants to know why he’s standing so far away, where he’d been. A part of her, though, never wants the answers to these questions.
There was someone missing. Someone who’d been present at Dacia’s own birth. Her eyes flicker around as she kneels unsteadily, the smell of the thick pines invading her nostrils while sweat begins to gather beneath her mane. Her skin instinctively changes, fading slowly in and out with her laboured breathing. “My brother ... “ She thinks, “Where is he?” The olive green mare turns her head, but finds only Killdare, face unreadable though his voice seems concerned. The fear only multiplies. “Don’t leave me, Arthas.” She says aloud, shocked by her own declaration.
Killdare frightened her more now than he ever had before. That look … it drove her mad. With a broken groan she eases to her side, bringing one life, shortly followed by another. As soon as it begins, it ends, and the draining worry that had clouded her mind since her King had arrived now settles. She’s slow to rise, unsteady but eager to turn back and clear the debris. One foal is blinking softly, molten bronze coat drying out while forest-green tipped ears wiggle freely. The other foal is trying out his legs, bright mane shockingly bold on a black body. There, almost invisible, are slick, clear bat wings, folded neatly onto his sides. With a shaky laugh the new mother stands before them, glancing once to their father and then, to Arthas. “I think Hellbane for the bay and that perhaps you’d like to choose the other, Killdare.” She says, feeling that uncertain ache creep steadily into her heart.
She wants to ask him what’s wrong. Wants to know why he’s standing so far away, where he’d been. A part of her, though, never wants the answers to these questions.
Color-Changing Vixen of the Chamber